1-4.5 | Tucked Away

I know what you’re thinking, that I really got over Iris quickly to have loved her so much. The truth is, I’ll never fully get over her. How can I? She was my first love, the one I built my hopes and dreams around. The one I just knew I would be with forever. How can someone get over that? Not just the immense love, but the dreams they have that center around that love and that person?

1-4 | Luck of the Draw

I arrived in Roaring Heights the next day and met the real estate agent at the house I agreed to rent. I admit it was smaller than the house I had in Aurora Skies and weirdly built. There was a spiral staircase in the Living Room/Dining area and it led up to the balcony which had a door leading to the bedroom. I had a feeling I would be glad I signed only a three month lease.  The real estate agent gave me the keys, I signed the papers and she informed me that she stocked the fridge and left some brochures about the town on the counter. Apparently she was use to dealing with a lot of corporate people and this was a courtesy provided by her agency. 

I was busy unpacking my meager belongings and setting up my new computer when the doorbell rang. Apparently it was the welcome committee welcoming me to Roaring Heights. This time I didn’t mind as there was a beautiful woman leading the committee.

1-3 | End of the Road

I wasn’t sure how many days had passed, but my hand was healing and Gundrun at some point left some art supplies on my porch so I was painting again. I had to have some outlet for my emotions. My life consisted of painting and fishing. I painted until my hands were blistered then went fishing to clear my mind.      

1-2

I come to in front of a house and I am holding an envelope. I stand up and fight the wave of feeling that came over me. I was alive. I feel the heat of the sun on my back, I feel hunger, thirst and I feel my heart beating in my chest.

I smile.

I laugh.

I take a deep breath.

I am alive.

1-1

My name is Olaf Oddison, friends call me “Oddish” as in Odd-Finnish; or they use to that is, when I was alive. Now I roam around, looking over those I’ve loved and lost, mainly her. I long to reach out and wipe her tears away, to hold her hand and kiss her lips. Oh what I would give to be able to hold my beautiful Iris one last time. I shake away the thoughts and fight the urge to scream, to punch the air because as a ghost, that is all I can hit. I float around in a state of misery and sadness, wondering what I did to deserve this hell, she is all I can think of and that makes this that much harder.

I’m not alone. I am surrounded by others like me but we don’t talk, we rarely make eye contact. Each of us is figuring out how to deal with this helpless, trapped feeling. Anger rises in my throat and I try to choke it back. I know it will only consume me whole. Instead I float to her house and linger in the trees by her house. I see her through the window, she’s in her studio creating one of her masterpieces. Iris is a jewelry designer. I absently touch the pendant around my neck and recall the day she gave it to me, the day I left Aurora Skies to sell my art.