Amerikan Primitive

It was A Dark And Stormy Night..... the lightening flashed and the thunder rumbled the wind whipped through the eves of the old house, creating creaks and groans as if the house itself was moaning in pain. I had thought I heard a thud or a bump, in the night, generating from the upstairs hallway? I brushed it off, old houses need to settle I remembered.  I sat at the computer, the greenish glow from the screen reflecting in my eyeglasses and allowing me to catch a glimpse of a shadow dart behind me. Was it my imagination? I spun around only to see the darkness of the hallway and the faint glow of the light in the kitchen. The rain splattered on the windows and thunder rolled, “who’s there” I cried out? I was answered by another groan from the roof top, a creak on the stairway….a ghost from the past answered with a knock, then a faint whisper, and spoke of days gone by. My past reached out to me, a cold breath of air on my neck reminding me I can’t let it go, it won’t die. It will remain a ghost, haunting me, appearing in my dreams, nightmares, conversations, and solitude until I acknowledge it, give it attention. So many people were affected by it. Some call it fate some called it Superthrive, or Slang Girl, but it was more then just a piece of me back then, it consumed me and I let it. I wanted it to feed on me so there was nothing left of me only it. As did others. I wasn’t the only one.

Now it walks the dark halls of me, I let it out, sometimes, but I ignore it when it cries, trying to show it- nothing has the best of me anymore old friend. A futile attempt I know.  I gave up trying to bury it, it just digs it’s way back to the surface but I can act like I hate it, it knows how I feel but the hate makes me feel like I have control. Sometimes. It will be the death of me I think at times, for more than twenty years I was convinced it would kill me. Now it seems the opposite, as if it blows a strange life into a dead part of me.