To Say Goodbye
She looked towards the forest, past the field, on her left side. Then towards the houses on her right. They seemed to be like beacons, shining bright against the dark night sky. She looked back again towards the forest. The skeletons of the branches, highlighted by the moonlight, cast eerie shadows on the ground. Further into the forest, she could just make out a silhouette of something that she was sure wouldn't be pleased to have her visiting its territory. Now she cast her eyes down the road in front of her. It was straight, but it then snaked its way around a bend and out of sight.
She held her torch up to her map. She could make out where the houses were, she could see where the forest was, but there wasn't even so much as a footpath marked anywhere near where she was presently standing. The road that she was on seemed to be, according to the map, non-existent, but as far as her mind (and body) was telling her, it was very much there. "This map must be out of date", she thought. "But the road looks like it has been here a long time. Something's not right."
However, she put all her doubts into the back of her mind and continued to follow the road, or whatever it was, around the bend. As she did so, she came upon the most wondrous sight. She was looking out over what appeared to be a harbour. Little fishing boats were tied up to the side, and a few larger ones, tied up to the dock, weighted down by anchors, or floating next to buoys. Looking further round from the harbour, she could see some more houses - small, cottage-like ones, with white picket fences, the only part of the gardens she could see in the dark night. Glancing back to the harbour and out towards the sea, it was a deadly calm and flat surface, with only the occasional ripple and she could hear the water gently lapping up onto the shore of the little bay below her.
Ahead of her, she could see a path that led down to this bay, so she followed it, making sure that she didn't slip on the wet grass beneath her feet. As she got nearer to the shore, she got the slight smell of seawater and the fishing harbour, for the wind was blowing in her direction.
Finally reaching the bay, with the wind picking up a little, her senses were only too fully aware now, not so much of the harbour but of the seawater itself and a damp spray blowing in her face.
She removed her bag from her back and took out the small, urn-shaped container, two pieces of paper and her glasses case. She removed the glasses from their enclosure and placed them on her face and then proceeded to put the container in the sand, trapping the two pieces of paper beneath it. She now turned her attention back towards the bag, and took out a tartan-patterned blanket, which she lay on the sand beneath her. Now she extracted six tea light candles from the side pockets of her bag and a cigarette lighter from the pocket of her beige combat trousers. She positioned four of the candles around the blanket, one at each corner, and the remaining two candles on either side of the urn. She then lit each one of them and took the pieces of paper out from underneath the container.
She sat herself in the middle of the blanket, facing the sea, the urn in front of her in the sand. She unfolded the pieces of paper, and using the shared light of the moon and the candles, read the one with writing on aloud, seemingly to no-one.
On the first piece of paper was a poem. Written in her own hand, it was occasionally blotted and blurred with tear stains. As she read it, though, she shed no tears. But her voice croaked as she read it, almost as if she was holding back the tears.
'True Love is a sacred flame
That burns eternally,
And none can dim its special glow
Or change its destiny.
True Love speaks in tender tones
And hears with gentle ears,
True Love gives with open heart
And True Love conquers fears.
True Love makes no harsh demands
It neither rules nor binds,
And True Love holds with gentle hands
The heart that it entwines'
After she had finished reading this, she picked up the other piece of paper, this one with a picture on it. Looking at this picture, you could see the image of a couple. The woman had her hand entwined with the man's and he had his other hand in her brown hair. One of her hands too was entwined in his unruly black hair. Her head was underneath his chin, and she had her eyes closed, a slight smile cast across her face. The man too had his eyes closed.
She looked at this picture for a few minutes, folded it up and then momentarily wiped her eyes underneath her glasses. She stood up, collected the container and walked towards the water's edge. She opened the lid of the container and tipped it upside down. A sand-like substance flowed from within the urn out into the water, the wind catching a few particles, carrying them high into the sky that was now starting to lighten with the rising sun. She took the pieces of paper and put them inside the now empty urn, pressed the lid on and threw it as far as she could into the waves.
Taking a few deep, calming breaths, she turned back towards the blanket and proceeded to collect everything together. She blew out the tea lights, being careful not to burn herself on the hot wax that had now formed, and wrapped them up in the blanket. She removed her glasses and placed them back in their case. Everything then went back in her bag. She put it on her back and then she climbed up the path again towards the snaking road, which was still non-existent on the map. Once she got back to the point where the path joined the road, she turned to look at the harbour. She could now see clearly the little houses with their white fences. The morning sun was casting a yellowish-red tint across the harbour and the grass appeared to twinkle with the freshly deposited morning dew that lay upon it.
She turned back to face the road and walked along it, back the way she had come a few hours ago. She got to the point where she could see the forest and the first lot of houses on the straight part of the road. The trees were less eerie now that the sun was up and a few of the houses had smoking chimneys. As she breathed in, this time she got the hint of frying bacon that the wind carried towards her.
A car was parked further up the road. She walked towards it and opened the back door and threw her bag in. She walked around to the driver's side, put the keys in the ignition and drove along the road, away from the harbour, the bay, the small, cottage-like houses with their white picket fences and away from the urn that was now floating far into the distance.
As she drove, the road disappeared behind her. It would reappear again, when the time came for another person to say goodbye.
She looked towards the forest, past the field, on her left side. Then towards the houses on her right. They seemed to be like beacons, shining bright against the dark night sky. She looked back again towards the forest. The skeletons of the branches, highlighted by the moonlight, cast eerie shadows on the ground. Further into the forest, she could just make out a silhouette of something that she was sure wouldn't be pleased to have her visiting its territory. Now she cast her eyes down the road in front of her. It was straight, but it then snaked its way around a bend and out of sight.
She held her torch up to her map. She could make out where the houses were, she could see where the forest was, but there wasn't even so much as a footpath marked anywhere near where she was presently standing. The road that she was on seemed to be, according to the map, non-existent, but as far as her mind (and body) was telling her, it was very much there. "This map must be out of date", she thought. "But the road looks like it has been here a long time. Something's not right."
However, she put all her doubts into the back of her mind and continued to follow the road, or whatever it was, around the bend. As she did so, she came upon the most wondrous sight. She was looking out over what appeared to be a harbour. Little fishing boats were tied up to the side, and a few larger ones, tied up to the dock, weighted down by anchors, or floating next to buoys. Looking further round from the harbour, she could see some more houses - small, cottage-like ones, with white picket fences, the only part of the gardens she could see in the dark night. Glancing back to the harbour and out towards the sea, it was a deadly calm and flat surface, with only the occasional ripple and she could hear the water gently lapping up onto the shore of the little bay below her.
Ahead of her, she could see a path that led down to this bay, so she followed it, making sure that she didn't slip on the wet grass beneath her feet. As she got nearer to the shore, she got the slight smell of seawater and the fishing harbour, for the wind was blowing in her direction.
Finally reaching the bay, with the wind picking up a little, her senses were only too fully aware now, not so much of the harbour but of the seawater itself and a damp spray blowing in her face.
She removed her bag from her back and took out the small, urn-shaped container, two pieces of paper and her glasses case. She removed the glasses from their enclosure and placed them on her face and then proceeded to put the container in the sand, trapping the two pieces of paper beneath it. She now turned her attention back towards the bag, and took out a tartan-patterned blanket, which she lay on the sand beneath her. Now she extracted six tea light candles from the side pockets of her bag and a cigarette lighter from the pocket of her beige combat trousers. She positioned four of the candles around the blanket, one at each corner, and the remaining two candles on either side of the urn. She then lit each one of them and took the pieces of paper out from underneath the container.
She sat herself in the middle of the blanket, facing the sea, the urn in front of her in the sand. She unfolded the pieces of paper, and using the shared light of the moon and the candles, read the one with writing on aloud, seemingly to no-one.
On the first piece of paper was a poem. Written in her own hand, it was occasionally blotted and blurred with tear stains. As she read it, though, she shed no tears. But her voice croaked as she read it, almost as if she was holding back the tears.
'True Love is a sacred flame
That burns eternally,
And none can dim its special glow
Or change its destiny.
True Love speaks in tender tones
And hears with gentle ears,
True Love gives with open heart
And True Love conquers fears.
True Love makes no harsh demands
It neither rules nor binds,
And True Love holds with gentle hands
The heart that it entwines'
After she had finished reading this, she picked up the other piece of paper, this one with a picture on it. Looking at this picture, you could see the image of a couple. The woman had her hand entwined with the man's and he had his other hand in her brown hair. One of her hands too was entwined in his unruly black hair. Her head was underneath his chin, and she had her eyes closed, a slight smile cast across her face. The man too had his eyes closed.
She looked at this picture for a few minutes, folded it up and then momentarily wiped her eyes underneath her glasses. She stood up, collected the container and walked towards the water's edge. She opened the lid of the container and tipped it upside down. A sand-like substance flowed from within the urn out into the water, the wind catching a few particles, carrying them high into the sky that was now starting to lighten with the rising sun. She took the pieces of paper and put them inside the now empty urn, pressed the lid on and threw it as far as she could into the waves.
Taking a few deep, calming breaths, she turned back towards the blanket and proceeded to collect everything together. She blew out the tea lights, being careful not to burn herself on the hot wax that had now formed, and wrapped them up in the blanket. She removed her glasses and placed them back in their case. Everything then went back in her bag. She put it on her back and then she climbed up the path again towards the snaking road, which was still non-existent on the map. Once she got back to the point where the path joined the road, she turned to look at the harbour. She could now see clearly the little houses with their white fences. The morning sun was casting a yellowish-red tint across the harbour and the grass appeared to twinkle with the freshly deposited morning dew that lay upon it.
She turned back to face the road and walked along it, back the way she had come a few hours ago. She got to the point where she could see the forest and the first lot of houses on the straight part of the road. The trees were less eerie now that the sun was up and a few of the houses had smoking chimneys. As she breathed in, this time she got the hint of frying bacon that the wind carried towards her.
A car was parked further up the road. She walked towards it and opened the back door and threw her bag in. She walked around to the driver's side, put the keys in the ignition and drove along the road, away from the harbour, the bay, the small, cottage-like houses with their white picket fences and away from the urn that was now floating far into the distance.
As she drove, the road disappeared behind her. It would reappear again, when the time came for another person to say goodbye.