Sparks of periwinkle and storm clouds prickle against my skin and threaten to overwhelm me entirely. Gusts of wind filled with trinkets and mementos I once loved scrape against my skin and squeal in that way that only nails can do on a blackboard. I remember that too. When cringe-worthy sounds evoked some feeling in me.
Telephones still ringing plead by my ears, voices raspy and long forgotten while wilted chrysanthemums die and fade into the dust. But I close my eyes and rock, my hands clasping the seams of my jeans for dear life.
Still the sounds creep onto my earlobe and up to my scalp and crawl down my back. Songs I once loved, words I once used, mannerisms I once had. I shake my head to let the demons out but they just bang louder on pots and pans in my mind. Even through the loud sounds I can hear the eerie voices of loved ones and hated ones and all the ones in between.
All around the tempest roars on, holding me hostage inside its harsh claws, but I keep my eyes shut and keep rocking, back and forth, back and forth.
The smell of fresh home baked bread rolls through my nose, the distinct scent of crinkled, coffee stained book pages quick to follow. Worn down notebooks flash by, spinning and twisting to open pages, adding dust and shreds of paper to the mist. May 23, 2006, October 7th, 2009, January 18, 2012, the words pound as insistently and ceaselessly as my head.
Bursts of yellow stumble around me, mixing into the storm with navy streaks and ivy threads. Long buried emotions bounce off one color to the next, painting a sky of rage, sorrow, and glee.
Bricks, pencils and rusted keys snap around my cheeks, clinging onto me angrily. But I swat my hands in front of me and try in earnest to blow them away. They don’t budge. My arms collapse onto my knees and drops of bitter water trickle down my chin, but I don’t dare open my eyes.
I rock faster now, pushing away the tornado with all the energy I can muster. But it grows louder and fiercer, a bomb counting down to an explosion.
The whisper of chances weaves itself into the winds, to wispy for me too catch and too swift to be there at all. But somehow familiar faces grab onto the chances, gracefully gliding along with the whirlwind as effortlessly as if it were easy.
I open my eyes, squinting in the mess of memories rushing about me. My arms fling out from beside me and I try to latch onto anything I can reach, but my hand comes back with nothing. I shriek and beg for it all to stop. For just one moment of silence, I would do anything.
But time never stop, it never even falters.