The Writers Voice
The World's Favourite Literary Website

Thousand Year Wait

by

Adam Gilson

She carried the weight of a thousand years upon her shoulders. Moving quietly, she wished
for nothing more than silence. It was never given to her. Who was she to know that silence is not
given, but taken? Hunched over now, time passes faster and faster. She takes no comfort in this, as
she is anchored to her past. The sweet release perspective gives she can no longer achieve, as she is
too heavy to reach such great heights. Her toil continues unabated, slowly moving to an end she would
never understand.

When she was young, it was only the wind. Nothing else existed, but time blowing her to a
new places. "Run away, run away" rustled the trees. "Dive into me" gurgled the rivers. "Flow
eternal" sang the oceans.

And she did.

And she was FREE.

From the summit of these unorthodox trespasses, she breathed in the light of day. She felt all that
was hidden from those who see only where their feet have come, and where they are about to land. Her
feet ran naked in ages and times swept high above surrender. Nothing touched her. Nothing tried.

Green grasses gave generously, and majestic mountains mourned melodically at her passing. She
reverberated and raged in dusky canyons, screaming for moonlight. Undeniable was her lust for the
earth. Impossible was the earth's desire for her. And yet…it did not matter. She was young, and
had the wind.

Yet, a somber mood slowly took hold of her. She felt as if her life was lacking. How many times can
you dive into crystal waters? The depths of those places hold many wonders, but not all. She ached
for places within her to be moved, yet knew not how.

He knew.

He crashed upon her shores, toppling dunes and flooding deltas. It was a simple desire between the
Two. She needed something new, and he needed her. To what end, they knew not.

Time flew. Trees continued their arduous climb to the sun; fields grew old, withered, and were
reborn. The Cycle sang its stolid tune to all who would listen; and all were compelled to listen.

The Two listened as well. And yet…she was troubled. The trees would whisper to her such wonderful
things about the rocks, and the rocks would lie and blame it all on the mountains. The mountains would
sigh patiently, as they always had. She would tell this all to him. Trees don't talk, rocks aren't
alive, and mountains are dirt.

How could he not know, she wondered. Why would he not trust her? It wasn't about trust, he'd say.
It's common sense.

COMMON SENSE

It pained her to hear such words. How could you trivialize the air we breathe? Her very core was put
aside by him. His intent was not malicious, just PRACTICAL. Her dirty hands and quick smiles defied
PRACTICAL-ity.

sigh sigh sigh sigh sigh

She buried it within herself, this feeling of dismissal. Her life's validation was closer to her than
this earth, yet she did not want to change what she had. This life was not meant for rash decisions,
and serious changes.

WHO SAID THAT?

She heard herself rationalize in this way, and was befuddled. Why would there be two different kinds
of forces in this world? To confuse and hurt us? Why would you love, to only be unloved the moment
you feel your own self well up and burst into the chasms of those around you? Limiting yourself for
some one else's benefit was not her way.

WHO SAID THAT?

Life was not meant for serious changes…

…limiting yourself for some one else's benefit is not MY way.

And this weighed upon her, so light at first. This push and pull, this force of attraction versus that
which was her own fiery presence. To what end now shall we meet, she pondered. No answer came. None
would. She did not know answers like this are not given, but taken.

You can never tell when you first start slipping away. Bits of you can be chipped: ideals
abandoned, dreams forgotten, hopes lost. Slowly we lose ourselves to a flood of capitulations and
concessions, only to be swept into a life not meant for us. The true sadness is not failing at what
you truly are meant to do, but to cast aside entirely that which you ARE to fulfill the You that is
chipped and broken.

She was chipped and broken.

On those crevices she now bore were thoughts weighing her down with a cruel crushing
conscience. Ground she gave, parts of herself she let go, to meet an end she knew not what. Was it
right? Possibly, she thought. How could she know, this insignificant speck on a wildly spinning
world.

WHO SAID THAT?

Insignificant and speck are words meant for a scrape and a tadpole. Words not meant for
me, she thought.

But this conclusion came too slow and disjointed for her to understand. Where was this
reckless abandon that screamed endless at the stars? Raging away under cold moon light, soaring from
mountain to mountain?

Dead? Buried? Forgotten?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

She could be wrong. She could be doing what is right, as it might be all that she is
capable of.

"NOOOOOO!" screamed the trees.

She most likely should let it all go, this bitter anger. What good would it do, when the
Two are older and all they have are each other and a few blankets.

"NOOOOOO!" implored the rivers.

She wasn't going to reach beyond the futile grasp she had now, so beaten and weighted.

"NOOOOOO!" cried the oceans.

She heard the pleas not. What business would a tree have talking to her, anyways? Trees
can not talk, she knew.

The earth rumbled and shook, waking her heavy form from day dream.

"Come back to me, my child."

"WHO SAID THAT?"

"Your mother. Your earth. Your land. Your soul. We said that."

"They are all gone and dead. I don't believe I'm hearing you, anyways."

"Child, listen. I have missed you, your soul and your love. You left me, and now you
must come back. Live again."

"I cannot. I'm so heavy with time, so broken by life."

"What is time, child? What is life, child?"

"That which is too short, and that which is too long"

"I understand. You don't know who you are. You are to burdened by what you let happen,
you can't look behind you to see who you once were and the life you once lived."

"I LET HAPPEN? How can you blame me for what others have done, and what I had to do to
survive to live?"

"Survival and living are rock and water. Water will always over flow and wear down the
rock. You do not rock to water, you water to rock. You were once a mighty river…but you let yourself
run dry, to be only a hollowed bed of such trampled stones. "

"What would you have me do?"

"Live again."

"How?"

"Excellent."

She was borne away across the stars.

Moving to distances unknown, she looked down. She saw herself as a child, young and free. Singing
songs to birds and skitting across frozen lakes.

Where has this child gone, she wondered. When did I let this all go?

It was your decision to let it go, yet you knew not.

Mother, why did this happen? What part of me is so void of life that I was over come by
this burden?

Child, nothing about you is void of life. However, life sometimes leads us down roads
with many paths. We chose which ones we'll take, and they do not always lead where we had wanted.

I didn't want this! Who would want to be so heavy to the point that breathing is a chore?
The AIR is like water to me! Why?

Of course you didn't want this. This is entirely below you. But, there is no one thing
you can blame this on. You didn't flip a switch inside of you to "VOID". It just happens.

I see. But WHY?

I don't know why. No one knows why we do things. I think that you felt a need to be
someone you weren't, but fought against it in the beginning. However, every time you gave in to that
way, it became easier and easier to find that switch. A slow flick of your life being turned off is
hard to stop, since you can't notice it.

It's so unfair.

Yes.

How do I quit it, Mother?

It's really not a matter of how, child, but when. The attempt of bringing back your own
individuality is the act of "quitting" this life. You cannot start a journey if you do not want to.

I do not understand.

How could you look upon the sky at night, and think those stars didn't want to exist? They never
thought it would be a bad thing to light up our imaginations in the dark of the night. They never
wished to hang in those frozen depths. They just wished to be. THAT is life.

I do no understand.

Look at yourself when you were young. Who did you ask to run across the depths of me?

No one.

Exactly. And how can you label something so innocent? Why wouldn't its very existence, its need to
be, justify the life within? Finding THAT desire is the journey you must take.

I do no understand.

Child, what am I saying to you? What has been the point of the stars and your reckless abandon? Who
let that happen?

I did?

You did. THAT is life.

My very own desire for what I want is life? My need to be myself, and to accept myself is life?

Yes.

But I do not deserve this anymore. I have faltered, and left my own self sundered ages ago.

Let go all the hold ups you've created for yourself, all the barriers, and all the lies. Breath in
the open air, and see yourself for what you are. You DID create what you're living now. But that does
NOT mean you do not deserve the best.

Who is to say that, Mother?

You would say that, child.

I see.

Do you?

I've tried so hard to do the best. I never knew the right path, I just saw the roads as endless. I
lost track of my way long ago.

You did.

Well?

Well?

And she wept hard driving tears. In all corners of the earth, it rained torrents and sheets. Her
pain was felt across all time, for it was the most unbearable of all: the pain of a life freely lived;
then freely given away. Not once in a hundred years are people born to such things. Should they be
taken away, the world weeps. Should they be given away, worlds across all time weep.

How could she ever repay the self-debt she owed? How could she ever look upon Him and be happy,
knowing He made it all so easy to let herself go?

He was to her the unbearable, ticking clock {tick tick} of Time Eternal. Such a terrible beauty {tick
tick} to behold, like a siren's {aaaggghhh} call to her soul. She would set {tick} her internal organs
to that rhythm {tick tick}, if it meant she could feel cool comfort in its cogs {scrape}. Yet she
knew it was not the place for her.

All her bits had been chipped away by the incessant clamor of that Clock. Setting yourself to someone
else's time can lead to such great heights…and such great depths. She knew now her beat was
reverberating not atop distant mountains, but in the dank depths of world, so heavy and dark. She was
drowning in a reality not her own, and she MUST get out. She was beyond this betrayal of her desire
over truthfulness. She knew she deserved better.

WHO SAID THAT?

She did. I did. We did. Let us out of here, take this burden from our shoulders. Answer this call,
and let us go. {tick tick}

You do not need to ask ourselves that, for we know. If it is time, it is time.

Yes! I am so heavy, so weighed down. The light is like water, and the earth is stale. I want to
feel again. {tick tick tick}

WHO SAID THAT?

I did! Please, let me live again! It is time to accept and love my burden, and to cast it off!
{tick}

Why would you love such a horrible thing?

I can only let go that which I can accept as a part of myself, and not hate. Let me live again!
{tick}

To whom do you ask of this?

ME! It is me, I make this decision. {tick} I wish to let it go, to move on. I desire life. I
deserve life. I long for the hills and the stars, the peaceful quiet of river valleys. I shall
reclaim them, or die trying! {ti..}

Die trying? What is the point of living if you'd die getting what you want?

That IS the point of living. To care about something so much you would die for it. It has been a
long, thousand year wait. I want it all lifted off of me. I would rather die than be any other way
but free. {stop}

The trees sighed in wooden relief, happy to see their sister home again.

The rocks tumbled in places no one would ever know, feeling her smile in the moonlight.

And the mountains…the mountains had seen it all before. They knew this habit people
share, of letting themselves slip at the moment they can fall the farthest. They were never worried
about her, of course. They concerned themselves with those she touched, for they knew those are the
people that keep the Clock ticking in everyone's soul.

They just hoped her existence would provide solace in the lives of those who hear nothing
else but the tick tick tick Tick TICK…

Critique this work

Click on the book to leave a comment about this work

All Authors (hi-speed)    All Authors (dialup)    Children    Columnists    Contact    Drama    Fiction    Grammar    Guest Book    Home    Humour    Links    Narratives    Novels    Poems    Published Authors    Reviews    September 11    Short Stories    Teen Writings    Submission Guidelines

Be sure to have a look at our Discussion Forum today to see what's
happening on The World's Favourite Literary Website.