Thirty Days:Part Two(3)

By: Belle Brooks


“Ummm…okay.”

“You see, Abigail, the world is a fickle place. Life can be cruel, but it can also be very kind. It can be hard to take at times, but it’s also filled with incredible beauty and wonder. Life really should be treasured and cherished—never referred to as a curse. Now I’m telling you, through all its highs and all its lows, you need to appreciate every minute of time you get to stay here. Hexes...pfftt. You silly girl.”

I can’t help but hang off each word he says to me in a calm but scolding tone.

“Now…love. Love is the best gift we receive here on Earth. Once we find its truest form, we should never let it go…not in anger, not even in hardship, and most definitely not when our memories fail us. Abigail—”

“Sorry to interrupt you, but this isn’t really a story.”

“Patience, girl.”

“Okay,” I mouth.

“Now where was I? Love. That’s right. If a person is your soul mate, it doesn’t matter how much time passes, or how little. Whether you’re separated by the largest plains or the deepest oceans, eventually the gap will close on its own and the only thing left in your path is a patch of grass or a puddle at your feet.”

“There’s only a puddle now,” I whisper with an erratic pulsation in my chest.

“Oh, by the look on your face right now, I’d say you’ve remembered Marcus’ last words to you. Does he know you’ve remembered?” His lip curls upwards in amusement.

“I did. And he does.”

“Well, you know the story already.”

“But I don’t,” I bark, widening his smile.

“Are you sure? It’s all in here, Abigail.” Three fingers tap gently at his temple. “You just have to close your eyes and want it.”

“There’s a reason I chose to forget Marcus, Captain. Maybe you’re wrong and he’s not my soul mate. I’m actually not even sure soul mates exist.”

The Captain sighs loudly before his gaze connects with mine, and we briefly stop our trek.

“They do. I found my sweet Grace—she’s my soul mate, no doubt about it. You didn’t choose to forget yours, Abigail, you’ve just got scared, lass. This so called rubbish curse you speak of is controlled by your fear. Release the fear and it will be no more.”

“Ha. Easier said than done. You see, this curse has been around a long time, well before Marcus,” I tut.

“No, lass, it’s called inherited clumsiness. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Life. Slow reflexes. It’s what makes you uniquely special. Now stop your whining and live your life. There’s a reason our plane didn’t crash today, Abigail, and it’s not just my skill and experience that prevented it. Now stop this silly nonsense. We can’t be far.”

“Wow,” I mutter before the sound of sirens in the distance reaches my ears.





Unfinished Business

Archer Phelps is the name of the police officer who dragged my sorry behind from the maze of hell, and the man who has the job of delivering me back to the Coast. We weren’t too far from our final destination in the end, only about an hour and a half by car. I refused any treatment when they found us and got scolded by The Captain for rolling my eyes at the mere mention of a trip into Nambour Hospital.

I hate hospitals.

Captain, on the other hand, decided a check-up would be in his best interests, mainly because he said his Grace would tear him a new one if he didn’t. I couldn’t help but burst into a fit of hysteria from such a statement. I guess he’s scared of his soul mate.

We part ways with a gentle hug and four words from his lips, “Remember your story, Abigail.”

My story.

As Archer drives along the highway, various voices can be heard through the scanner inside the patrol car. The noise, pitches, and muffled tones have me shifting in my seat with irritation. Seated in the back, I try talking to Officer Phelps, but he’s not a chatty fellow. All I got was, “Try and get some rest.”

How can I rest when adrenalin pumps furiously through my body? Hulk style.

Closing my eyes, I try hard to remember my apparent story. It’s still blank. I can’t sleep. I’m uncomfortable and as every minute ticks by, I become mad to the point that my jaw aches from the pressure my teeth create grinding together. Not even the beautiful chartreuse scenery that whizzes by helps to bring me calm.

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