this is an old story of mine..but thought i would share as it was considered for publication after i submitted it into a Austalian writing magazine for under 25 ..
i heard back personally from the editor with a re drafted piece by the woman herself! a rarity in the writing world! however i missed the boat as i was living in Byron at the time and to slow with my email responses as internet was far from my mind and access...
the fact it was recognised and felt was enough for me..its pretty dark and based on a personal experience...about someone special to me at the time and i felt compelled to write from my side of the shell after he gave me his journal to read- the journal was devowled in one nights sit, and touched the inside of my being- he recorded all he felt in this traumatic moment in his life..........peace with you all...
enjoy.
INSIDE A SHELL
Darius has lived a good life so far.
Free from suffering.
Full of blessings, family, music and laughter.
With Islander blood and rhythmic intuition Darius seems to sail through success, lovers, parties and friendships.
He has worked hard for his credits fully knowing, yet unassuming as to the talent he has been blessed with.
Little does Darius know yet of his psychic abilities, and lately I feel his ego slipping into new heights.
He marks homage to his faith, baring a crucifix around his neck and reaps from the music industry benefits on offer.
Girls booze and parties…
Guitar in one hand, charisma in the other. He carries himself well.
Darius is about to fall.
Experience severe sorrow.
Now is not a good time for him, now he will enter the room and never be the same.
Please have respect for him and his family at this difficult time.
…
Pen to paper, thoughts to prayer, nothing can block it, prevent it, or even stall it anymore, his being taken from me.
A sea of guilt floods repentance to my brain. I can’t hear anything or look at my mother anymore.
I need to pray, the chapel may be my escape mechanism at the moment buts it’s the only means available to me where I can help him find peace.
I can’t face another single sad look from my family, the ‘we are so sorry’ look in their eyes burns wholes in my chest.
I can’t explain it but there is a supreme force enate in the air somewhere above my head and my frequent visits to the chapel are drawing it closer. What I need to do with it I am not sure, the one that would usually help me lays lifeless by my side.
The chapel offers hope and quiet; it offers a strange sense of endurance or adrenalin that I desperately appreciate right now. It acts as replacement for rest and food something my body misses frequently.
Somehow I can just manage to move from car to room, to chapel to sleep, to lunch to chair to shower, to my brothers bed side.
Prayer for him. Prayer for us.
I asked Darren if he was scared.
He nodded. I felt something die inside me from that. I could not let him be scared. That’s one thing I can heal, if not his health but his fear. My brother, his my boy, my life and he knows I have it in me. It hurts to breathe to even turn my head, but what on earth he must be feeling at full right now I can’t imagine. I will spend ever last minute ensuring his not scared. Pass in peace my brother.
…..
Darius sat next to his brother studying his face. He no longer looked like his old self. Darius new in this moment he was actually going to loose his baby brother.
Loose his own sense of life and love. He could feel hope somewhere still, but uncertainty and fear triggered bullets in his mind that he refused to simply dodge anymore.
The pair were partners in crime. Adored and marvelled.
A rare blend of genuine brotherly love, music and creativity when put together were undefinable. Magnetic. Intoxicating.
The record deal was signed, the States in their horizon. Life was good. From humble upbringings they were about to live out their dream, the sweetest part of it all for them. Living it together.
Darren was three years younger than Darius and since birth barely left his brothers side. With no father around Darius felt responsible for his baby bro. He cared unfathomably deep for him and trained him into manhood when superior advise was all but absent. This was not a one way street of guidance however. As the pair grew up and became young men, they too became each others advisors; they were business partners, music creators, and best friends.
Darren was essentially his brother’s soul mate. His sole priority.
Nothing or no one will repair this tear. Tears now flood. The chapel door closes.
Bare a thought for his desperation. Re read the previous paragraph. Adhere to what was at stake. Life, youth, chance, love abolished.
Do come in.
…
I sit solid in prayer among a forum of angels, descendents and God, I pray ruthlessly, theirs are too in tune with mine, I will sit until I am heard.
Heavenly father hear my prayer
Here my plea, take me over him. Take all from me if you must, take my voice, my talent, my money, I will struggle for us both.
If you must take him from me let him not be afraid. Hold his hand, sing to him, I do not hate or blame you, I love you I worship all you do, I connect to your higher spirit I accept your way, I beg of you, if you must take him from us let his soul be upright and ok. Let him swing in breezes of golden rays, electrocute his mind with love so he is truly weightless and white.
Take him to his dream place where he can make it through and the moon and stars can’t even compare, take him to the love empire where he can stay for eternity.
I surrender my all to bear his suffering, list what you require of me and I will meet every need with force and without hesitance. I am yours to take.
Pros and cons.
Materials
To do lists
Brain storms
Lyrics
Lists mark my life. In pay cheques, identity, dreams and ideals.
What can I write now?
Who can I write with?
I need my brother. I need to hold his hand.
….
This room we are now looking down on is the room that will forever haunt Darius’s conscience. One room. One table. One doctor. Mum, sister, aunty and grandparents all grieve in silence or screams, and the room compassed with severe rays of pain and sensitivity cannot in any way dare to lend a hand.
The words seem to surreal to fathom.
‘Darren is going to die. I am so terribly sorry, the cancer is spreading now and a rapid rate and his body can’t fight it anymore.’
‘All you can do now is say your goodbyes and be with him until the end.”
Can you even imagine it?
A twenty six year old boy, stripped down to his shell, forced out of his body and life, into some other world. All too soon. Prayer for him. It’s ok to shed a tear.
…
I looked at Darren with every piece of my being, trying to force light upon him and inhale all the sorrow out of the room.
He just lay there in his shell. Out bodies are mere shells man, the face I stared into that was no longer my brother.
I told him I loved him and asked him if he loved me.
He couldn’t move.
I told him to squeeze my hand if he was scared. Nothing. I then told him to squeeze my hand if he loved me. The bones in my fingers felt like pieces of bruised fruit with everything I knew he had left in him Darren squeezed at my knuckles.
Tears streamed from my face in a strange downpour of sheer sadness and relief.
I deflated into his arms lying on my brother.
I felt his shell, cold and still, no longer in use, no more of me there. His fear passed, mine now creeping into my shell more alive than life itself.
I wept and held him and he surrendered.
I wanted so badly for my brother to live; instead I must live without him and have you always by my side. You sadness and you fear accompany me instead of Darren?
Yet Father I love you, yet my faith is more prominent than ever.
You tell me now how any of this is fair?
Pray for us. Pray for me.
