fragment

There had been nothing for years. No words. No twinklings from the direction it would eventually creep back in. Gone.
Or so it seemed.
Nothing is ever gone once it is or was. Once something has been done it always remains. Time traveling is just the simple act of slipping back into one's thoughts and seeing, smelling the events that were. Once something is, a line a path of being is projected into space and life exists with it catch in its folds.
The direction from which it would come back is of importance only to her. The thing oozed its trail of disregard framing its entrance in the location that she gazed for refuge. Her sacred location no more.
And as she gazed into the cool morning mists rising from the fields when she expected to find calm and strength to face the long day ahead, she saw the horrors of the past trudging back into her mind. The marsh that had been reclaimed lay in ruins under the heavy revolutions of the enormous tire's tracks.
Her scream pierced the morning. It was the scream unleashed at knowing your child is dead. It is the scream unleashed that causes weeping upon its hearing. It was the scream we know but never ever wish to hear.
Had the emergence of this foul creature been from any point but this one, she would have been safe. Had her gaze centering been moments earlier, perhaps she would had a different mind about the ordeal to come.
But perhaps not.
The soul is a tenacious creature. The soul links itself like a vine between the heart and the mind, wrapping them both, binding them together.
Screams are powerful. Cries of pain cause us to breathe. The heart listens closely to the reptile brain...studies its signals always. And a broken heart is especially adept at this reading process.