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Remember when It Rained

EstherT1's picture
on December 1, 2010 - 8:03am

This is the “story of a storm” from a dream of almost 4 years ago in the early morning quarter of my sleep, which I have vowed to write and never finished. It is sad, dreary and mysterious in it’s coming, glorious in it’s seemingly endless trail of adventure and raging waves. And ends with drops of rain on a couples rustic boat, it’s scarf of timeless life, lace of union marking the beginning of a future by rails, seas and skies unto one covenant. “It’s an unexpected song (and dance) that only we are hearing…” May it rest in this journal to find path of adventure within the confines of your songs and classic rhythm calling on the heart beats of the world to it’s rightful redeemer.
The Storm…
It all began on a cold and rain filled storm a woman named Alma carries her bookcases and trunk to the ceiling of her an 8 sided mission home in the deep forest of the Amazon. Behind is her child sleeping and cooing bundled up on white sheets of silk and cotton in gently rocking basinet.

Soon the dragging of boxes and trunk ensues at each jagged steps. The work endless yet Alma persists to save the belonging of her and her husband labored over candlelit vigils on ink pens and white parchments. His writings in black print and hers in red ink strokes of calligraphic design.

One last box of wooden trunk and Alma’s sole slipped down the spiral staircase of the attic. Her baby instantly started a pitiful cry. The wind blew ever more strongly replacing the draft of the air that has closed all pores of Alma’s body. A resounding last thud on the floor Alma exclaims in Spanish tone. “O…no!” “Mijo…donde esta?” Blood trickled down her whitewashed thighs depicting the bloodlet of a lost life within her!

She closed her eyes in teardrops and prayed a solemn prayer. Despite the pain she rushes up the steps to attend to her child on the basinet as he cried! Alma nurses her son on a cold damp night.

The wind blew solemnly surround the 8 sided wooden château while Alma tries to warm her babe.

Thumping of wooden boat comes scraping along the walls of flood-drenched chateau in the middle of an Amazon village. A man in his mid thirties with chocolate brown eyes and wavy hair approaches the château surrounded in moth. Her husband comes hurriedly calling out her name! “Alma! Alma! Donde esta!” He shatters the wall with his ax crashing madly… He hurries up the cellar into the attic where he hears the sound of his child…Alma exclaims, “Mijo!” Bewildered the man exhales as he embraced Alma while she holds on tight on her child. She wears a scarlet cape of thick material, which she clutched tightly while he embraces her. He kissed her on the temple undrapes her long silken neck. Among the 3 candlelights, she blew one out casting a grey hue on a drafty wooden attic. “He’s asleep she says and places him on his bassinet. In sweet embrace she cuddles her husband closely into the nights…

As Alma sleeps her husband held her tightly and soon discovers the blood-drenched sheets. Her husband gasps and with a half lit candle found Alma pale and white as snow. He realized what had happened as the Alma had hid her impending death loosing their child amidst the miserable flood in the middle of the night. “No! Alma no dejame (don’t leave me!” She simply sighs, “Empieza!” Don’t leave me exclaims her husband. Alma repeats in deep agony, “Empieza!” The window shatters as lightning and thunder strikes. A half open trunk slams open and papers flew page by page circling in whirlwind spiral out the shattered windows. Parchment papers encircle the house as wind blows in more vigorously. Alma kisses her babe and breaths her last breath as her husband held her helplessly in prayer.

The next day as the water ensues in the flooded valley… Alma’s husband laid her on a beautiful rustic boat he built for her from times endearing by the river. She dressed in white linen and embroidered white veil of their matrimonial garment. He carries his child Elijah and kissed him on the forehead holding back the tears he can’t contain.

To be continued

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