Wednesday Writing Essential: The SLUTS Memoires© Chapter One: Whisper My Name

Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on January 22, 2012 0 Comments



“The room was empty! I woke this morning to an empty room, just like every other day in the past year. All our bedroom furniture is still where it was, but it may as well be empty, because you are not there! Our bed, where you made love to me, is still there, and it is empty. I still haven’t been able to bring myself to get rid of your things. Everything is just how it was when you left me.”

On the anniversary of her husband’s death, Lacey sat at his lonely grave, wondering when she would finally begin to feel numb. She’d always heard when someone suffers the loss of a loved one they go numb after the grief passes.

It had been a year since she lost her precious husband, and her wounds were still fresh, raw to her innermost being. She hardly slept and when she did, she dreamed of the beautiful life they shared together, the life which ended far too soon. Sometimes, she would see him standing off in the distance watching her, as if he was waiting for her to join him.

She had this very dream the night before, and could hardly wait until she got the kids to school, so she could go visit his grave. She often went to visit him, taking a single red rose from the rose garden they had grown together. Most of the roses came from Tyler, Texas, The Rose Capital of the World. He called her his very own Rose Queen.

While she sat alone in the grave yard, she felt as though she was going to erupt. She felt this way all the time, but now it was coming out and there was no stopping the force in which it came bursting forth from her mouth, ” W-a-y-l-a-n! I n-e-e-d y-o-u!”

The bowels of Mother Earth protested, groaning in agony along with her daughter, while the clouds quickly gathered to cover the sun. Lightning struck the tree where she had parked her car. She suddenly felt a gentle breeze, as the clouds parted just enough to filter a golden ray of sunlight upon her face. The smells of sandalwood, moss and cedar permeated the air. She inhaled deeply, taking in the unmistakable aroma. She could feel his kiss and heard his soft whisper on the wind.

“When you need me, just close your eyes, whisper my name in your heart, and I will be there.”

She cried, “How do I do this? It’s been an entire year…and the pain is still as fresh…as the day you left. I miss you…so much and…I want you…to come home.” She needed to catch her breath, so she took a moment to look at the trees, whose leaves were beginning to turn.

“Waylan, please make the pain go away. I am so raw. I write in my journal every day. The doctor says that it’s good for me to write, but how do I find closure in writing my memoires? I miss our long walks, taking the kids to the beach in Galveston, and riding horses into the sunset. Tomorrow is Justin’s birthday, and he’s already said that he wants nothing if he can’t have his Dad. Dallas prays to Jesus every night to bring her Daddy home to us.

“Speaking of the kids, I need to get them from school. I can’t think straight most of the time. I honestly don’t know how I get through my shifts on the ambulance and at the fire station. Thankfully, the guys I work with are good and they never complain, but I know how their wives treat them. They think that I am a slut for working with their men. I guess I would be jealous, too. But, they don’t have to worry about that ever happening. I would never take someone’s husband and you are the only man that I ever wanted. I still and always will love you more, with each passing day. I will come see you again, soon.”

She walked to her car, stopping in her tracks when she saw the lightning bolt in the tree, still smoldering. Immediately, her head  felt hot, so she ran her fingers through the hair at the top of her head, like she always did, to pull it away from her eyes. A single cotton white tendril loosely fell in front of her face. She was stunned and finally began feeling the numbness coming from the soles of her feet, slowly up through her limbs, into her auburn hair.

She wondered how she would have a single chunk of white hair, when she’d never even entertained the thought of frosting her hair. Waylan would have had a conniption fit had she done anything to her beautiful, long red hair. He always said that he could watch the sunset every day of the world, just by looking at her hair.

Funny how she had wondered when the numbness would come, because in that moment, she no longer felt anything. She got into the car, remembering that her mother was supposed to pick up the kids from school, so she headed to the house, instead. She no longer thought of it as home, because Waylan was her home. She did however, try to make it a home for the kids. She was a good mother and had become even more protective of them since Waylan passed. She was so afraid that she would lose them, like she did him, and she couldn’t bear it.

The rain was coming down in solid sheets and she could barely see past the windshield. Suddenly, she saw red tail lights directly in front of her. She slammed on the brakes, popped the clutch, grabbing third, as she swerved right, to avoid hitting the pick up truck that had stopped in front of her.

The wind picked up the front tires of her car, spinning her into a complete three hundred and sixty degrees, slamming her car into the passenger side rear quarter panel of the pick up. The car rolled end over end and then side to side over the edge of the shoulder of the road, down the hill, finally landing over-turned in the trees.

Lacey felt hot liquid pouring down her head, face and into her mouth, choking her. She couldn’t see anything, so she wiped her eyes, noticing the liquid was blood. She looked around, seeing blood all over the place. She’d never seen so much blood in her life. She was trapped inside the car and she couldn’t move. Her foot was caught on something and the seatbelt held her suspended in the air.
She closed her eyes and whispered, “Waylan.”



If you like this story, be sure to read the next chapter, Breathe by clicking the link below. I will be posting more, soon. :-)



About the Author ()

I'm a simple Texas woman of Scots-Irish and Native American descent. I learned story telling from my Grams and other elders. I like to tell a good story; some true and some, merely figments of my imagination. When I was growing up, story time was

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