by Brianna G. Harte
“He – hello?” My voice was as fierce as a kitten’s. I neared in on the source of the noise, but could not see it. Each step was timid, progressing me only inches at a time. Looking back at the door raised my nerves. The door Odessa stood behind was almost out of sight, yet I could only feel curiosity pulling me farther away.
“Hello . . .” The voice lingered softly, inviting me to come closer. It was youthful female’s. A thought tugged at the back of my mind. Not one of worry; rather, one of familiarity. I had heard this voice before, though I couldn’t figure out where.
When I finally found the speaker, the lights brightened. I couldn’t move. My eyes widened as I faced her. No shadow accompanied her like me. Her skin was pale and transparent, darkened on her neck, arms, and chest as though bruised, yet she did not come off as violent. Her light green eyes seemed to sparkle below the worry lines on her forehead. Long, strawberry blonde hair flowed down her back, covering the scarlet-stained white long-sleeve she had on. Jeans she wore were also stained, though with dirt it seemed. Despite all of this, a smile opened on her face. This, too, was familiar, but it wasn’t enough to make me remember where I saw it from.
“Harrison?” she asked, stepping forward.
My feet fell backward as I shook my head. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
She shook her head in turn as she continued toward me. “Oh, Harrison. It is you. I’m so sorry for everything.” She tried to hug me, but I left even though I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew her.
“Who are you?”
“Don’t you remember me?” The woman stopped advancing as her eyes turned toward the ceiling. “Why are you torturing me even in death?” she cried.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, feeling her genuine sorrow. She radiated a weak despair, as though defeat had claimed her. Whatever hurt her, caused those bruises before death, took a toll on more than her life it seemed. I wanted to hug her, to let her know that it was okay. I just couldn’t do that. I couldn’t even convince myself of this.
Eyes willing to tear peered deeply into mine. “Oh, Harrison. It’s me – Mom.”
Copyright © 2015 Brianna G. Harte. All rights reserved.
Part 1: “On the Other Side, 1”
Part 2: “On the Other Side, 2”
Part 3: “On the Other Side, 3”
Part 4: “On the Other Side, 4”
Part 5: “On the Other Side, 5”
Part 6: “On the Other Side, 6”
Part 7: “On the Other Side, 7”
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