I Looked Back

i should have never lookedback i should have moved on

I woke up to the same feeling of sickness that I felt the night before. It is just as strong, just as ferocious, just as hungry, and I hate myself for its presence. It is only when I sleep that I am free from the churning in my stomach, as it sits inches from the back of my throat.

It has been this way for weeks now, mornings of grogginess and nausea leading into afternoons intermittently filled with a sharp pain in my midsection, and cold sweets. This leads into the night, when the pain and nausea are so great that I can barely stand, and eventually pass out with the hurt erupting in my head.

This morning is easier than many, as the nausea is only slight, and the pain in my gut has given me a couple of hours to myself before it awakes. I fear moments like these, because behind all the these symptoms, all the sickness rests memories waiting to be seen.

A crumpled form lays on the tracks, birds and buzzards retreating from a passing train, unable to stop. Your eyes look at me, no matter which way I approach. They are always perfect, those beautiful blue eyes, even as your body is bloated and festering, and your face gnarled and curled. I used to not understand why that was, but now I know.

The soul resides in the eyes, and in that single look you pass your soul to me, as your body was lost to the trains and the vultures. I am its new host, and it grows restless, demanding a new form.

And so I wake up again and again from the image to the pain in my stomach, a trapped and angry spirit lashing out out day after day at the one who looked away.

That is why I won't take anything, why I endure the pain, because the image that rests in my head, the look in your eyes is worse than all the nausea, all the sickness, all the pain. But this is my curse, my punishment. I brought it on myself, my brother. I should have been watching you, should have kept track of you.

The sound of the trains whistle pierces sharply in my ear. It is the same pitch as your screams. I tried to get to you, tried to save you, but I couldn't. All I could do is watch as the train came towards you. You looked at me with those perfect eyes doted with tears. All you wanted me to do was watch, so you would not be alone in your final moments. But I couldn't bring myself to do it, and I left you alone. I looked away. God help me, I looked away.

Author's Note

worte this a week ago.

Reviews

[Abigail T]

Wow. What a powerful piece! So creepy and sad, but mostly creepy. It doesn't come off at all like "poor me poor me," which is impressive. Sometimes when writing about sad things, it can turn into a pity party. But you stray away from that, which I really appreciate.

You also got goosebumps all over my arms! I love how the reveal of why this person is having stomach issues is much later in the piece. It makes it all the more powerful. And the description of the mangled body... that definitely got me. Especially the vultures!

Altogether, wonderful job.

[Crinkle°]

wow...... a very strong story, very intense to read, believe me.