Somewhere in the Past

With every step I take I sink farther back into the past; I remember what has been with a vague awareness. It's the same feeling as if I stepped into a novel and became someone I didn't really know. As if the story that has unfolded before my eyes is merely that: a story. And slowly I realize that the things I dream don't describe who I really am.

Llenora closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Her back ached from sitting in one place for so long and her eyes burned with lack of sleep. The sheets of paper lying on the desk were as bare as they had been hours ago and the pen was held limply between her fingers. The little mirror propped in her writing desk shone with the dying embers of the fire. Taking the mirror, Llenora looked at her tired face--the dark circles, the sallow complexion that had stolen away her bloom, and the lifeless hair that once had shone in the sunlight. Nothing was the same as it had been, and all at once, everything that she never thought would happen to her had come crashing down...leaving both her heart and her life in ruins.

She watched a sadness creep into her eyes, and then, slowly, the glass slipped from her cold hands to drop to the floor. Llenora picked up her aching bones and crawled up the stairs to her bed. The room was cold, the grate empty. There was frost on the glass and only cold water in the basin, but her mind had dulled and thought only of rest. Shivering in her nightgown, she pulled the old quilt over her head and for once, allowed herself to truly forget everything. Forget everything and sleep.