Run, Hamster, Run! - 2. Chapter 2: Dialogue Prompt: Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture”

Dialogue Prompt: Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture”

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“Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.” I muttered to myself, using the wrist of a soap-covered hand to wipe away my tears before returning my focus to the tack in my lap. “Memories come, even when all you want to do is forget.”

“And what is it you want to forget, my love?” asked a deep, silky smooth baritone voice from behind me. Startled, I whipped around fast enough that I managed to smack myself in the face with my braid

Standing there, surrounded with what looked like a golden aura, was Nolan. His chocolate brown eyes showed as much pain as mine surely did, and the muscle in the left side of his jaw twitched like it always did when he was fighting back tears. Suddenly he broke into a smile that did not reach his eyes, his teeth snow white against the deep tan of his face. “Surely it’s not me.”

“But…How….” I gasped, reaching out my hand towards him, suds still clinging to my fingers. He extended his own towards me, and instead of our fingers meeting, they passed through each other. Then the memory of what happened hit me hard, and the tears broke through my hastily build facade. “Oh!” I sobbed, drawing my hand back and turning back to the leather. “You’re not really here. I’m just imagining you.”

“Just because you can’t physically touch me, doesn’t mean I’m not actually here.” Nolan replied softly, settling his weightless form onto the bench next to me “You of all people should know that.”

“You’re not REALLY here, my darling.” I stressed, tears forming clean tracks in the dirt on my cheeks. “N…Not in the way I need you to be.” My shoulders shook with every ragged, tear filled breath I took, and I quickly rinsed my hands before burying my face into them.

I lifted my face when I felt something cool cover my left hand, and glancing at it I saw Nolan’s hand gripping mine. Lifting my face higher, I came nose to nose with the man I loved, the man that was taken away from me.

Seeing that he was trying to flip my hand, I turned it over so the light sparkled off of the ring on my finger.

“Trust me when I say that no one regrets what happened more than I do.” He whispered, circling his translucent thumb over the ring. “There is nothing I wouldn’t give right now to be able to hold you properly. Fact remains that when I leave here, you will still have your memories of me, of us.”

“But the memories hurt, Nolan.” I whimpered.

“I know, my love. But sometimes a little torture can make us stronger.” Nolan lifted his face to look at the sky outside the barn door, and sighed.

“What?” I inquired.

“I must be going now, my love. My time here is over and I am being called back.” He replied, his features beginning to fade. He looked at me with eyes so filled with love, my heart broke once more.

“I miss you.” I cried out, trying to grip his fading hand. “Every day.”

“I know, my love.” He answered as his form faded completely from view. “But remember, some forms are torture are worth the pain.” His voice whispered one last time, and then he was gone.

Tears overcame me once more, and I hugged myself tight as sobs wracked my body. Over the sobs, however, I heard the soft metallic clink of medal bouncing against another piece. I focused and calmed myself enough to listen, but the clinking stopped.

Lifting my closed hand to wipe away the tears, I felt a ball chain brush against my cheek. Uncurling it, I found myself gazing in confusion at three dog tags and a simple silver ring on the chain. Lifting the first tag, my eyes went wide as I read my love’s information on it. The second had a bullet hole through it, clearly marking where it was when he was shot and killed in action. The last, however, was different from the others and surprised me the most. It was not like the other two tags, which were both military issue, but instead was a silver tag that you would get from a mall kiosk. Laser etched on one side was a photo of me and my mare taking a barrel. On the other side was a phrase that I always said to Nolan, the first time being when we first met.

“Not Everyone Needs Wings to Fly.”

Reading that one little phrase had me clasping my hand over my mouth, remembering the look of sheer aw on Nolan’s face as he sat in rapture watching me practice my barrel runs. A smile played on my lips as the memory ran through my head. Lowering my hand, I twirled the silver ring once around my finger before slipping the entire set up over my head to land around my neck.

“Sometimes Memories are the worst form of torture.” I whispered to myself, glancing up at the clouds, knowing Nolan was up there watching over me. I sighed one last time and went back to cleaning my tack. “But some forms of torture are worth the pain.”