Page 33 - The Houseguest

the unusual faces of the painted fiberglass horses. They display their angry teeth and their widened eyes stay fixated upon me as they circle around and around. The carousel loops in time to the rhythm of the echoed tune in my head. Karina and Katie are riding, side by side, on separate horses that match their dresses. They are laughing, holding hands, and enjoying the ride. Moving in closer trying to get their attention, they pass me by, their hair carried in the breeze created by the rotating platform. Yearning to live inside their joy once again, I want to join them. My heart pounds faster as I feel their essence getting closer to me. The details are so vivid, I can clearly see the bright, colorful dresses they are wearing and the bows wrapped around Katie’s ponytails. For five seconds of bliss, I feel whole again, overwhelmed with the sense that it was all a horrible mistake. It was merely a speed bump in my journey, an unexplained time warp that is over now. Everything is going to be okay. I reach out for Katie’s hand as she whirls past the spot where I am standing. Feeling nothing, I step closer to the carousel and stretch out my arm to touch Karina’s hair as it flows behind her. Suddenly, my hand feels a sensation of freezing cold air as I cry out in desperation: “Karina! Katie!” But their presence, with details appearing so real to me, is only a cruel delusion. They can’t see me. They can’t hear me. They are on the other side.
If someone were to research my Google searches, they would either assume I was on the edge or composing a how-to manual on suicide. They would reveal my inquiries for the least painful, the fastest, the less complicated and the most “popular” techniques to end a life. After experiencing the loss of a loved one, I’d heard many people say they
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The Houseguest by Linda Ellis www.LindaEllis.life