Author's Note: Hey, guys! I don't know if anyone's taken an interest in these stories, but here's my next one. This is told from Willow's POV as she remembers Tara. Her memory becomes so vivid that it's as if Tara is right there beside her. This is a conversation that I imagine them having, and whether Tara's soul is really there or it's just Willow's imagination is entirely up to you. Enjoy!
Underneath The Willow Tree
Willow Tree. She called me that once.
There's one out back. Sometimes when I sit under it, I talk to her. And sometimes, when the trees whisper and the wind blows, I can imagine her answering.
I feel her hand wrapping around mine, her fingers snaking through mine. Maybe I can't feel it...but I at least remember what she used to feel like. I imagine that she's here now, and she's holding me.
Tara. I whisper her name, and it slides out without thinking about it. Her name makes me smile, as my eyes close, because if I keep them open I might remember that she's not really here, that she's gone.
Hey.
And I don't know what to say, because there is so much to say, and nothing at all.
"Tara. I miss you."
I imagine her hand squeezing mine, reassuring me that I don't have to miss her-she's right here, with me. Always with me. Always.
"...Does it hurt?" I ask, because it's the question that never goes away, and I hope I know the answer, and that the horrible thoughts inside my head are wrong.
Oh, no, no, not anymore. I imagine her shaking her head, that look on her face, that look of concern that she'd get.
It hurt at first, not so much the physical plane...the astral plane...it hurt. For a while. But it doesn't hurt anymore.
"Because it hurts for me. Oh, god, baby, it hurts so much." I feel myself blubbering and I feel ridiculous, but I take comfort in knowing that she is within me and knows exactly what I am feeling. "And I miss you so much, baby…"
Do you think about me a lot?
"I never stop. Never. I don't stop for a single second."
I imagine her becoming quiet, and us just sitting together underneath the willow tree, because I'm worried of what comes next. I'm worried that anything I imagine us saying could make everything worse, somehow make this pain greater, if that's possible. Then she whispers. And this time, I'm not even imagining it. I can hear her, over the wind, or maybe in the wind, the willow tree speaking to me.
Just so you know, I still am.
"Still am what?" I ask, confused, not just because I don't know what she means, but also because I don't understand how I'm hearing her, these words that I'm not even coming up with.
Yours.
The tears are there, and I squeeze my eyes shut and wish things were different. Because I want her back. I want to trade the world to get her back, but it's not mine to trade. I tell myself I should be allowed to have her back, but I know I don't deserve to have her.
I feel her tense in my grasp, and she draws her fingers back.
Kennedy's waiting.
And then she's gone.
Please feel free to leave comments, constructive criticism, advice, or even requests for future Snippets. And please subscribe to receive alerts for future updates! Thanks for reading.