A Terrible Thing To Waste

A Terrible Thing To Waste

by Mike Pollock

So, there I was.

That’s how stories like mine start; in a single moment. Sure, you could argue that we’re much closer to the end than the actual beginning, but who’s interested in hearing about a mewling babe and his too-drunk mother drifting from hovel to hovel?

In truth, each moment is indeed the last step in a universal game of hopscotch. If I could see beyond this finite plane, into the vast sand-line shores of eternal time, I could point out each moment as a footstep winding as far back as the straining release of my creation.

I’d also like to point out that the occasional tsunami whose sole purpose is to wipe our memories from existence.

“Kole!” A familiar voice cried from the wispy-thin clouds of my memory. With it I felt my soul washed over with the feeling of home. The warmth swept me away from the crash and calamity that roared around me.

Her face, loving eyes crying tears of sorrow draw me in. I knew her but could not place her name.

 “Kevin!” The call came again, and I find myself rummaging through a thick oaken chest. I missed the warm glow from a friendly fire place, and I missed the constant laughter of my sisters. We’d rummaged through Pa’s chest only once before.

Way back on that beach is a footstep filled with the pain from a raw hide belt, and the next one filled with the teary eyed wonder as I turned a poorly forged knife in my hands, curled sideways, alone in my room, to avoid the sore redness of my backside.

It was a moment like that which changed the path I’d be destined to walk on. That would lead me here to this blood soaked field. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I was there. I walked the space in between knowing and feeling, and the cold that swept over me was nothing more than a footnote on today’s page.

“Kevin!”

“What?!” I finally replied, letting the memory fade and turning to face a new darkness. Forms filled the void before me, their figures moving in a frantic dance. Limbs lift over silhouetted heads, crashing down and leaving carnage in its path.

There was no sign of the voice calling out.