Margins of Spring
(Harry Potter FanFic)
Summary: Alice L. was married to Frank L.. They fought with Death Eaters and they were tortured to insanity. Now they're at St. Mungus, a wizard hospital. In this fanfic, Alice shows us through her diary that the madness might be superficial: the memories may not come back, but the clarity is inside her, untouchable.
Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stole something when you have the cash? Or thought your train moving while sitting still?
I can hear voices telling me that I was born crazy. Maybe. Who knows? I heard others saying that I got crazy. Why not? Or maybe I've been crazy during all my life and I just don't realized it. There are too much questions and few answers. Who is going to answer it? Will it be answered? I don't know. By the way, I've never knew. And I will never know.
The nurse entered on Alice's room muttering a few words:
Alice, honey, your son is here.
Alice looked up from her diary to see a plump, young boy, of about 8 years old, with blondish hair, walking into her boring room. The boy looked strangely like the man who lived in the room next to her's. The doctors tried to get her and the man in the same room as often as possible, and made sure they lived next to each other. People say they were married, but she doesn't remember getting married, or him.
How are you feeling today?- He asked
Alice just stared at the strange little boy. He looked slightly familiar, like she had seen him once before. Alice felt very confused and frustrated as she tired to remember to boy. She wanted to remember so badly, she wanted to remember one thing for more than a few mere minutes.
Have you talked yet? The doctors said you might be able to...- He said.
I don't know who he's. I just hear people saying that he's a very important part of my life- a part of me.
But I don't remeber.
I wish I could.
Among só many old newspapers and blankets semelling of mold, that boy made her fell in a lovely spring day, The doesn't remeber the boy, but she does remember the spring: the smell, the softness of the petals, the delicacy of the flowers. She loved the spring, she breathed in the spring, she used to see the spring. Used to.
- I guess not, then.- His voice awoke her from reverie.- Well, I'll see daddy now. If you need me, I'll be in the next room.
He approached her, stared at her for a few seconds and then, finally, hugged her. Alice shivered. Her body came into a source of combustion; she felt her face flush and her eyes filled with tears. The boy smiled, as if to say she could cry.
And then she cried.
I feel nothing at the same time I feel everything. Some people say that it's madness.
So, I'm mad:
No memories, musings, no feelings, all the feelings. Everything. Nothing. This room. The nurse. The men next door. The boy.
Spring.
The nurse entered again in the room and stared at Alice. She always thought Alice's face too enigmatic to be unveiled. How many secrets she has in this diary? The nurse asked herself. Then, she felt sorry for Alice.
- You lost your most precious memories to save the world. Your courage made you responsable for your insanity, honey.- The nurse murmured.
Alice stared at nurse. And then, she smiled. For the first time in months, Alice smiled.
Maybe now something makes sense. Maybe there's a reason somewhere. Maybe. Maybe I can give a good ending to my story, my life. Bury them in a garden... and forget them forever. Because it seems that life is meant for that, isn't? We are born knowing life. We are created to love life, loving every second of our lives. And, in the end, we always discarded it.
I think that I keep living because I want to see spring again. Everytime that the boy enters my room, I feel the spring here. Everytime I see the man who lives in the room next to me, I feel the spring here.
Everytime I'm alone, I feel the winter here: the snow hindering my vision, making me feel cold and the clouds covering the sun.
It's winter now- but the spring always come. Even if it's just a part of it, even if it's just a margin of it... but the spring always come.
