Something of a ghost story, but far too real to tell around the campfire.
lyrics
It was the last dinner they’d have together, just the three of them; him, her and the boy, a family. As the boy peered through the doorway, he watched like a ghost, fruitlessly attempting to compose himself. She was appearing and disappearing behind the walls of different rooms on the other side of the house with an apparent inane lack of purpose
The heavy weight of inescapable circumstance felt like the earth's gravity had actually increased. He knew what the man knew as they glanced at each other with the unstable energy of vibrating glass. Were the glimpses of her still real? Those glimpses of her true self, the self that they both came to know so well over the years. Well, those glimpses might never be seen again after they all retired that night. He knew it. The boy knew it. But, she did not - she was leaving in the morning
How does one conduct themselves during such harsh, contrasting moments of painful reality that can’t be interpreted or deciphered without years of contemplation and experience? The two had a secret that they couldn’t tell her, they wanted to but they couldn’t, because it would have made things worse. They loved her so much that they refused to torture her, and had no choice but to torture themselves instead
It was twilight and before they approached the dinner table, the woman put her hand on the tall boy’s throat in a loving yet peculiar way, and with a kind smile, gently spoke his name. They sat down to dinner, the man's swollen red eyes and contorted face not so subtly quivered as he tried his best to maintain some semblance of normality during what the boy & himself knew would be their last meal together, their last meal with her
The boy, although struggling himself from crumpling to the ground, was able to attempt small talk and to ask small questions to capture any final flickers of her life’s recollections & to somehow make these pivotal unforgettable moments special in some inconceivable way. He tried to make her laugh when he saw the chance, and she did, when she wasn’t distracted by the invisible voices and unwanted strangers only she was privy to
There’s a unique sound from the grotesque type of horror that is released, from secrets that are bottled up for too long. When the pressure is released, that horror comes rushing out. It squeals and moans like a man who’s been forced to do cruel acts; horrid and inhumane acts in front of a witness they respect. It’s the type of horrible sound that could splinter the mind and shatter the psyche
To cry in front of another person, as if they’ve already passed on is indescribable, it’s a nightmarish pain that comes from, in this case, a questionable betrayal that some will know and some will not. There’s disturbing tricks and sleight of hand. It’s like the old saying goes, “it’s real if you believe it’s real.” Well, this saying has the mentality one must adopt to sidestep this particular nightmare, if only for a minute or a moment. It’s all you might need to keep the truth, the lesser of two deadly dogs from biting your heels; to keep your beautiful bird undisturbed and aloft, unscathed without much bother or complaint for as many moments of peace that are gifted yet drifting away
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