Bestowed with an adventurer’s hunger
she yearned for new experiences
Seeking the next anecdote
to add to her ever-growing
personal narrative
Filled with a restless soul always on the move
she arrived at the new homestead
with eyes wide opened
and spirit ready to receive
the story waiting to be revealed
Before her, a faded clapboard house
shutters slightly askew invited her in
Moving boxes decorating the sprawling lawn
beneath the tall pine with the lone tire swing
that swayed in the still air
Sensing she was being swallowed whole
she stepped through the massive oak door
as the arms of the boy long since deceased
embraced her with gentle relief
He’d been waiting a long time
His words echoed in her ears
as she climbed the twisted staircase
His life flashed before her eyes
as her hand traced his on the aged banister
And each step revealed another truth
Reaching the dusty attic room
ribbons of dust danced in the sunlight
pouring in from dilapidated windows
Flanked by faded lace curtains
and memories of a tattered life
In this space, stuck somewhere in time long ago,
steeped in sorrow and buried secrets
the story bridged the gap
between the past and the present
as her next adventure began
Running her fingers along dusty bookshelves
she listened as he urged her to seek
answers to questions that had been silenced
for far too long there in that lonely room
by a boy who had once filled it with dreams
Pausing to pull an old journal from its final resting place
she settled in on the old iron bed and read
tales of someone who lived an ordinary life
filled with trials and tribulations of a boy
who shared her age somewhere in another time
An average story of a life lived in ordinary circumstances
she shared his journey that mirrored her own
until the pages became dark
soaked with the blood of one too innocent
to see the danger that lurked within a shattered home
Although talk in town always portrayed
his death as nothing but tragic suicide
spurred on by teenaged angst,
she wept reading the cries for help
by a boy who was not so different from her
The story followed an arc of twisted curves
designed by an architect of disaster
who delighted in torment carried out
in this very room, now seemingly vacant
but filled with old ghosts longing for vindication
A promise made that day would not go unfulfilled
as new purpose gave sustenance to her adventurer’s hunger
She explored the story, adding new anecdotes to her personal narrative
as she uncovered the trail of a life no longer forsaken
Writing the story of his demise at the hands of one he trusted
Years passed slowly as she settled into that home,
straightening the shutters and adding fresh paint
to the place she shared with grateful angel
She often sat in the old tire swing
reading the novel they wrote together
