Moving Spirits

Moving Spirits

  by Annie Gosselin & Ron Mahedy

  copyright Gosselin/Mahedy

  published by 2 Esprits Inc.

  Dreaming

  The wind sings a song taking me to my dreams. The leaves spin and one by one, dropping gentle hints of dreams and nightmares to come.

  I scream with all my force while the nurse urges me to push harder and in spite of my fatigue I try. Suddenly I lose all control, it burns, my legs shake and my insides churn. Everything wants to come out. Even when I push it hurts. Again for the third time the nurse urges me onward, its almost finished. I am almost burned out, tears roll down my cheeks, my lungs burst as I cry out for deliverance.

  My newborn releases my suffering body and it is hard to believe that behind the pain, the magic of birth fills me with joy.

  What a terrible awakening! The scream of a cat in heat, the cry of an angry raven and a symphony of disturbed crickets.

  Who has judged me so severely? How many times will my thoughts and dreams be invaded by this horror? Please allow me a moment of peace.

  memories...

  How dull it is to be stuck in the Ferris wheel. It goes up, it goes down, it turns and goes nowhere. The worst is when you get vertigo and when it stops at the top. Even worse, facing you is a young man looking for love.

  After five minutes I am going to be sick. Alphonse then begins to talk to me, I try to talk with my hand upon my mouth unable to hold on any longer I vomit.

  The young man operating the wheel gets drenched in my lunch.

  He decides to leave us there while he cleans himself up.

  Silent tears begin to fall.

  Alphonse tries to console me. His only choice is to stay there...and not touch me.

  I am tired of being awake.

  If I had arms I would push above me.

  If I had hands I would dig a way through the wood, the earth and the rocks.

  If I had feet I would run away.

  If I had eyes I could see the light of day.

  My body fills with dust.

  Visitors

  I had to listen to a brother and a sister argue about their father's will while standing upon his grave.

  Standing over her husband's tomb Mrs. Riopelle begins crying again.

  She wastes a lot of time being here.

  If I had the choice I would leave. She has been saying the same thing for the past eight years.

  I hear a small delicate voice talking with her parents who have come to pray at the grave of their grandfather.

  The voice comes closer and whispers to me.

  "Mrs. Riopelle talks to him as if he is there! She brings him lots and lots of flowers. Everyone has flowers except for you. The next time I will bring you lots of flowers, here are two dandelions and a daisy for you...Adele Carlington, born one, eight, four, nine..."

  I hear a woman's voice.

  "Julie Carter don't lie there, there is someone asleep there".

  A man says, "Julie, listen to your mother and get up from there".

  "Papa, my story is not finished, yet".

  Her mother's voice, "you can continue next week".

  "No, she wants to listen to my story".

  "Stop telling us about spirits who talk to you, in any case they have all left for paradise".

  "No mom, she is still there and listening to me".

  She whispers to me, " I have to go now before mom gets angry, bye "!

  Waiting.

  It has not been very long since the child has left.

  Maybe it's my imagination.

  Does she really know I am here?

  How does she know I am here?

  Are there others like me?

  Does she speak to them?

  Where are they?

  Why don't they talk to me?

  Why can't I hear them?

  Am I the only one imprisoned here, am I the only one being punished?

  Pain! I hurt without pain.

  Alone it is dark, my thoughts are the only source of light, they turn into nightmares that I must relive over and over again.

  Again...

  After five minutes I am going to be sick. Alphonse then begins to talk to me, I try to talk with my hand upon my mouth unable to hold on any longer I vomit...

  Alphonse tries to console me. His only choice is to stay there and not touch me...

  I am at my husband's fortieth birthday telling this anecdote...Again.

  The Storm

  The calm has been broken. This infernal noise will never end, for two weeks it has continued!

  The cemetery has become a construction site filled with the sound of beaten iron, howling of motors, machines whistling and men screaming. How many dead are there?

  I hear the wind threatening the sky and bringing in the storm. Men work faster. I sense the nervousness in their voices, their heavy steps upon the ground. The drops of rain fall producing an infernal metallic rhythm.

  A violent quake shakes the earth around me. I hear metal on wood. I sense movement. I have the strange sensation of being exposed to the storm beneath the rain. My mother once told me don't be afraid, I am here. It is only the mice dancing on the roof.

  Suddenly! I fall into the void.

  Abruptly! I stop and a deep silence invades my soul!

  An instance of silence broken by the sound of machines, I plunge into my reality.

  In a clear voice a man says, " the storm is too violent , I have no intention of ending my days with these people, that's enough for today."

  The Graves

  An explosion of sound invades my senses.

  Sounds so strong they bury my thoughts!

  I cannot hear because of the cracking...

  Thunder is so near, so strong!

  Between the cracks their are flashes of light!

  Could my imagination be part of the storm?

  Impossible?

  A fearful sound produces the effect of being on the Ferris wheel at high speed.

  Everything stops!

  I feel dizzy!

  What is happening?

  Where am I?

  I have been exposed, I see stars! All around me are cracked and broken coffins. I am part of this horror. I need to flee this nightmare. I try harder to fly but I am attached to this old carcass that served as my body. Difficult to imagine that my spirit has lived next to a pile of bones and a skull with thin grey hair. That is all that remains of me!

  The Others.

  I sit on the corner. Unable to return inside. I stay as far away from me as I can. The night backs away as the beauty of the rising sun reaches out for the day. Hope rises. I contemplate for hours. As the birds take wing the wind arrives with a million possibilities...

  fall deep into memory...

  How dull it is to be stuck in the Ferris wheel. It goes up, it goes down, it turns and goes nowhere. The worst is when you get vertigo and when it stops at the top. Even worse, facing you are two men...

  After five minutes I am going to be sick. Alphonse asks me a question and the other man asks if I am alright...

  After five minutes I am going to be sick. Alphonse then begins to talk to me, I try to talk with my hand upon my mouth unable to hold on any longer I vomit.

  " What are you doing in my thoughts, Sir?"

  " I don't know! Finally I am able to talk with someone, I am Mister Riopelle, at least what is left of me.”

  " I remember your wife's voice. I envy you, she has been coming here for years. Alphonse used to come often and now I have no idea where he is. "

  " You envy me, Adele! I cannot take her in my arms to console her... I don't want her to come here anymore, her sadness rips through me like a dull razor blade. "

  Like all my thoughts this one leaves with the soft war
m wind to be soon forgotten.

  The Site

  The sun struggled to pierce through the gloom of the morning fog which covered the iron arch of the entrance to the cemetery. Father Damon parked his car and then walked tentatively through the gates trying to find the path which leads to the construction site. His feet were quickly covered in mud and as he advanced he saw the destruction in front of him. There was a huge pile of broken coffins. He ran his hand through his long grey hair overwhelmed by the work he'd have to do. He opened the left side of his coat and pulled out a flask of whiskey. Father Damon sat down in the mud and took a long haul from his flask. Sitting there thinking his eyes began to water and he felt very tired.

  He shook his head and now determined to make everything right again within his world, he put a hand on the ground and rose. On his way to the chapel he called the construction boss on his cell phone.

  Wearing a warm overcoat, old black boots and work gloves he went to the shed and got a shovel and returned to the site. The shovel fell from his hand and he bent to retrieve two red cards from a damaged coffin. Looking around him he saw more cards scattered about the mess. Cleaning one of the cards he saw they were for identifying the coffins.

  Adele watched the desperate priest trying to match the cards with the coffins. She saw the priest fall into the coffin of a decomposing body. He panicked and fled toward the chapel.

  Father Damon felt completely helpless and guilty about renovating the cemetery to give it a modern look.

  The foreman and his helper arrived. They were stunned that the storm had caused so much damage. It would be difficult identifying all the coffins.

  Father Damon came out from the chapel dressed in his robes. In his hand he swung a brass incense burner which hung from a chain.

  The priest went to both men.

  " I want you to clean up everything as quickly as you can so that there is no trace of what happened here. I am going to purify the bodies."

  Both men returned to their truck and changed into their work clothes. The young man asked his foreman " Which machine should I use for this? "

  The foreman showed him his hands.

  " Aw shit" he said.

  Father Damon began mumbling words as he swung the incense burner in all directions.

  Adele

  Mister Riopelle does not contact her again, but she knows she is not alone.

  I see them whispering!

  I see what's happening!

  I know the sounds!

  I am powerless!

  I am afraid the vision of the sky disappears!

  Adele knows they must return below ground and return to their thoughts for eternity.

  La Purification

  Father Damon climbed some of the coffins in order to purify them. Still swinging the burner by its chain he lost his balance and fell. All the contents spilled out. A cloud of ashes fell over the wood. Suffocated by the strong odor of incense he crawled away and returned to the chapel swearing.

  His right leg hurt terribly so he sat down for a break and checked his injury. In the window he saw the reflection of the fire behind him.

  He turned around to see the flames engulf the entire area of the site. Unable to run he began to cry out. In the chapel he found a small fire extinguisher but looking at the fire he threw it to the ground. Sitting down on the porch of the chapel he watched everything burn.

  Dust

  I am in the middle of the flames!

  I feel nothing!

  What joy the colors of life!

  I don't have to escape!

  All that burns turns to dust.

  Lost souls light up like a million candles and fly in all directions.

  I blow a goodbye kiss and fly in silence to the mountains in the west where I was born.

  In the flames I witness a spectacle of explosions of light off in the horizon. I see a woman's face and feel her joy of being free of her chains.

  This moment guides my future of an other vision...ashes to ashes, dust to LIFE.

  ###

  copyright Gosselin Mahedy.

  Annie Gosselin, Ron Mahedy

  2 Esprits Inc.

  2 Esprits/Spirits