______________
His
thoughts were muddled with the sound of leaves like a hive of bees. Eyes
closed, darkness encasing all sides, Kevin listened.
Air was
cool, changing. Heat and breeze was between each breath through mouth, coursing
through lungs and limb before returning to the night. Kevin could feel the
world waking, leaves breathing, and roots drinking. It was all different. On
nights like this all he could do was leave his house, lie on Greene Field,
listen, and feel. He tried sleeping, lying in bed ignoring the sounds, but like
the summer before, the pull was too strong. He had to leave. If not, the
whispers became screams, refusing to be ignored, until he stepped from the
front door to the open field.
And
that’s where he was, staring into the specs of white in the sea of black overhead,
listening to the murmur on the other side and feeling the grass against his
skin.
He
enjoyed this time alone. The town was quiet, unknowing. The darkness closed
around the trees and houses, muffling his footsteps as he walked along the
deserted sidewalks and gentle breathes as he lay on the grass. He knew the
shadows on the other side of dark windows and more than those who lived behind
their locked doors. He never wondered, or wished he knew, what they dreamed or
wished. Here, in this world of sounds and silence he was content.
On
nights like this he would lay on the field for hours, absorbing the song of
leaves moving in the distance on the white oak in the center courtyard, and
wait…Eventually, he would sleep and fragments of phrases and faces would appear
abruptly and out of sequence. At first it happened few and far between, but now
it happened whenever he seemed to close his eyes, creating a story with unfamiliar
characters and names such as Kara, Thomas, and Alice in a place and time much
different from now. Their lives, conversations, feelings, and emotions would
appear one after the other until just before sunrise when he would make his way
back into bed before anyone noticed him gone.
Most
nights this was the routine and this night was no exception. He lay in the
grass, clutching the diary, hoping for the images of the people he had seen
mature and grow, people he had grown used to seeing as family, people he had
grown to love. Only tonight was different. He was so focused on the murmur of
the rustling leaves and need to dream he never heard Jennifer walk across the
field and stand at the base of his feet.
