meredith-de-monstre

Memory is generally not one of my fortes, but in my childhood there were things that will not be escape me so easily.  One of those things is the time that I spent North at the cottage with my Granny and Pappy when there were only four of us.  Four grandchildren. The Mornings were cold and pale on the lake, and we rose early- me perhaps more so than some of the others.  I would silently slip from my bed, watching my parents sleep, hoping I didn't wake them as I crept down the stairs in my nightie.  The floor would always be cold and I would always have to stand on my toes to undo the lock.  Once I got past the doors, however, I was out alone

beast-not beastly beauty-not beautiful rebels in a war cave of wonderlessness camp foul animal love non romantic despair- ginding strenghth-brutal endurance rugged terrain trees- ragged and ancient poison death life memories loyalty betrayal family

  Though I have not dwelt on this earth for even twenty years, I feel frail.  I do not know whether or not I have a soul or not any longer; if I do it is ash from the once intense fire of my life.  For this reason I walk alone.  I walk alone to the one place that gave me comfort: the grove by the river.  No one will miss me.  The war has all but etinguished emotions here.  Families have been torn apart by the loss and violence, friends have changed in character, nobody is capable of trusting anyone but the dead.  Not even me.      These are my thoughts as I glide down the hidden path.  The people in my apartment complex have gotten to be to