Aftersight

The Following is a sample of the novel I am writing:

[The 4:00pm pitch black skies in which I arrive
back at the barracks abruptly remind me of where I am.
No longer wanting to bear the burden of isolation, I accompany myself to the sounds of Vivaldi and the
taste of Cabernet. Book in one hand, wine glass in
the other, I begin to read and realize why so many do during the long hours of the night. I wasn't known for reading books! I was simply diverting myself from having my first anxiety attack telling myself it's jet lag and rightly so perhaps and that the love I left everything I knew for was worth it.] END SAMPLE

[Want to hear more? The following is, well more of my rough work. It is still part of the beginning of the short story I am working on.]

Truth is, I had my chance and then some. If I really wanted to live my life with him, I could have. I just didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust my heart. I was confused. I know I am not alone. Now that I think about it, with the divorce rate being so high, I am not the only one that had to start again, and again. I made three choices and I made the same choice three times. My insides are all turned around and all I want to do is find a way to live with the choice in peace. Yes, I still have me. That is the good part. I’m still happy with myself. I’d rather feel something than feel nothing. I’ve suppressed these feelings long enough with alcohol, cigarettes then drugs. Can’t run away from my decisions though. Why should I? I’ve finally stopped running. What do I have left? Myself. I ran away from everything…even my own life. It’s like trying to run away from your shadow, thinking you’ve fooled it, and then finding it again.

Who was I before I fell in love? Answer: Half a person. I became complete but when separated, I turned back into my incomplete self. Didn’t know it before…know it now. I smile with surreal relief knowing this is the beginning of loving myself again.

What a beautiful experience…love. I’ve felt it twice in my life but yet I have neither of these loves in my life. One love clashed with the other, and my own conscience separated me from the two. Lesson learned. I actually can accept that now. I know there is another love for me, but I don’t have to look anymore. This non-fiction based on a true story novel will be my first book. I have no formal training except for Composition I and art class. I know when I look at art what it says to me. I know when my mind stops thinking and my sixth sense kicks in. The words graph a picture filled with color and emotion so perfectly suited for what I’m trying to communicate, that it captures the very essence of my soul. And so I begin.


“I’ll loose you both!” His eyes (green as the forest), veins and tears revealed the most despairing appeal for a savior, only I was sinking too. How much I wanted to run to you, feel your embrace, and leave that place of torment. Everything became scattered. I lose my marriage, forced to move out of country with a passport giving me about a month to collect myself, and leave the love of my life. My soul screams like that of a man on fire tied by his own hands.

What do I do, what do I do? My mind goes in and out trying to make sense of it all. I just need time to sort it out…time to heal, recover, grow, know and understand what the hell this all means. Wrong answer, it isn’t a matter of time. From that point on, I would never be the same again.

My burning desire wasn’t enough to reach him. I tried to suffocated it…or at least tried so bad to move on. And I did move on, but my heart for him stayed behind. I asked myself could I live with myself knowing how I got him? I had an affair, he loses his marriage like I lost mine—just doesn’t sound like a good start to me. Perhaps I should have though. Suffering it alone wasn’t easy either. The misery of being without him is far greater. I succeeded in numbing my pain through cigarettes, drugs, alcohol, and denial, just long enough to meet someone else to help satisfy my hunger for love, and to forget about what I left behind.

Sot THAT’S why I started smoking. Even now the subject makes me want to self-distruct because the pain is so bad! I lost him twice, and had no one to blame but myself. Why couldn’t I have visited him just once? He asked me twice, you know. Once in 1995, and again in 1996 or 1997, then again…he must not even take me seriously anymore. And when I finally get the nerve to see him, he’s married.

I talked to him today, over the internet. He crossed my mind which then in turn woke up my heart with a jolt of truth: I had a temporary fix of amnesia…I was about to marry the wrong person because I still loved him. I must run to him…I wrote him a letter, only to have it discovered by my fiancé before I could mail it.

There is a part of me that know’s I’ve blown this thing all out of proportion, that in time I would see his weaknesses and maybe not like him at all. I don’t like you Brian. You were bad for me.
Ah, that feels so good to say! You were bad for me Brian! I don’t love you because I never knew you long enough to know what loving you really is. I know I loved the time we had.

But then the other part of me says “You liar” you were just afraid. You knew this was the real deal and now you are eternally damned.” I hate that part!


No one told me love could be hell on earth. This happened to me? I can’t believe it. And why didn’t I follow through? I said I would see him in the states…why didn’t I see him and live happily ever after when I had the chance? Fear of rejection? Hmm.

Ok, I’ll calm down. It isn’t that bad. I can live with this. Ok, it’s a bit intense but he’s still alive and I’m still alive and this WILL work together for good. It will. See, I’m writing a book about it. It will be fine. I would have never met him if I didn’t marry the other guy. I would have been a lot further along had I committed to Brian.

Then there were these times when I was with Brian, and I realized I didn’t want to be around him. It only happened twice but it happened. I think it was only when I started dwelling on the fact my life was about to drastically change…again.

Relief. Words on the page..relief, again.


Short Unfinished Work by Fianna Rain