Where You Left Me - Prologue

An Introduction to my Novel

In every dream, she existed only there; in that rickety old barn that felt as if it might fall down at any moment, where the horses breathed their dreamless restful breaths in the background, and the noise of the countryside around them was such a comfort.

She could almost smell the fresh cut grass, feel the silk of her evening dress as it brushed against her ankles, and the warmth of his skin so close to hers as she rested on the nape of neck, the breeze kissing her skin as it so often did in midsummer.

Though she spent little time there in the grand scheme of things, it was this memory that was so pervasive, so everlasting, that her mind could not forget it even in unconsciousness. It returned like pressing play on an old tape, picking up where it last left off, and her mind so well versed in this fantasy would play again from that moment that she so wished to return to. The warmth of his body was a comfort even when it was not real, the gentle rise and fall of his chest that had now subsided. Mostly she would only exist in that moment, too scared to move. Sometimes she would wander around that old familiar ground, pacing back and forth between the old sycamore trees and the steep hill of the field towards the sleepy village. Once or twice she had ventured down towards the woodland until she could see the rooftop of the big house coming into view beyond the horizon, breathing in until all the familiarity and comfort of home could be felt in her bones.

 It was a comfort that she solemn felt in reality now. She would awake in her own unfamiliar bed, much older than she had been a moment before, and feel the ache of her old bones radiating down, meeting with the emptiness of the space beside her. The barn and the fields and the big house would fade away with each waking moment until the thought of them felt foreign to her. Just a memory now and nothing more.

She knew that soon the dreams would turn to darkness; a path that had taken a lifetime was soon to end and she was ready to welcome it. Fading often in and out of consciousness, she barely noticed the bodies that came and went at her bedside. Days could no longer be distinguished from one another, a morning seemed to stretch out until a week had gone by, and nights were fleeting moments of lucidity that faded back into hazy confusion. She lived more in that dream than she did in her own life, and when the end finally came it was in that dream that she lived her final moments.

She could rest now, knowing that the secrets she kept would remain hers, eternally.

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar etc. I am just looking for notes on the content and writing in general. Thanks!