Silent Hill

I feel as though I am standing on a very large hill. The grass has been burnt, the sky is red, the clouds ashen, my heart is tender, my direction is confused. There is no path from here, there is only the hill. Food is tasteless, friends company a tolerance. I want to run but my feet are stuck in red clay. I go to scream but my mouth and throat too dry to utter a sound. They surround me holding me close, telling me to hold on, telling me to fight. How can you fight your own body. The pain is too much for me to move, occasionally something suprise me and I am brought back to the bright room where the pain is and can utter a few words before being sucked back to the hill. I'm aware that they are talking to me, I am aware that they are praying for me. My only companion a silent fellow with wings. Large black wings that slowly flap in the red sky, the sound thumpf, thumpf large eagle like wings. They can cover me, in deed I want and am afraid of this comfort. These wings can lift me out of the red clay, off of this hill. But then what of those around me that I sense but can no longer see through my eyes, can hear, but no longer tolerate the sound.

They speak over me, around me, I am third person, I am not there.

Each day passes, the bright world on the bed is a dream I dreamt once. I screamed in the dream, my mouth full of my own blood. I screamed and searched the room for help, my daughter was there I reached for her, help me, tell me what's going on!?! She was crying, I couldn't stand to see her tears but her presence gave me peace, slowly the red returned, my feet landed back into the red clay bog. The voices are now a background noise sometimes I recognize my husbands voice, he talks to me and cries... But its hard to hear and understand, its all getting red, all but the large man with wings that flap. The wind from the wings are cool, they are a balm to my fever.

I feel tears, I feel moisture being put to my lips, I can not tell where the moisture comes from, with all my strength I bite down on the wet source of water. I wonder where it comes from, my eyes no longer focus. Its just the water is so precious here, is this hell? My screams and moans are too painful to make. Why does the man with wings move closer?

Its all red now, they are telling me to let go, in an effort to hold on I do what hurts me the most, I scream with each forced breath, something on my face, I want to push it away, its all red, all of it, the voices, the tubes oh my god I can feel the tubes on my face, my children, they are red, their voices red... MY GOD WHY DO THEY TELL ME TO LET GO, WHY when I stand on this hill for them. The hill may still let go, the dream may still pass, so I hold on, I scream with each breath, they come harder now. Each breath more in synch with the wings that now surround me. That cool and warm me. I can feel the tears around me, they soften the clay freeing my feet so that the wings of he who was sent to bring me home can lift me off of this hill. At first I struggle and moan against his grip.

With his touch the red is gone, the dreams are gone, I can see them... My love pours to them but they do not know I am already gone. I can see my self now, not a reflection but a shell that I have let go of. My shell, its mouth hangs open as those I love hang onto me. They are covering me with kisses and tears. The wings bear me up past this room of pain and I am One.

Mom in heaven, know that I love you.... Chris