Sunday, 19 May 2013

Anatomy of a Ghost

    I’m going to recount something, something important; I’m going to recount the event that led up to this day, that made me make the decision I made just seconds ago. I’m not a diary kind of person; I write but not my life, I have a friend who writes everyday she has a suitcase full of old memories. I admire her for having the balls to write it all down, the mundane things, the significant things thing’s she might wish to forget, it’s all forged in the pages of pretty little note books and that’s what made me write this, I wanted to remember this because this is something I can’t forget. So here it goes, from the beginning, it started just over four months ago…      
     The day I met Damien Rivers the sunlight shone through him, he glistened with a transparency I had never before seen, I felt I might be afraid, I felt I should have been scared not of him but for my health; my rationality kicked in and I felt I should have been terrified that there were some sort of tumour festering away, eating at my brain taking in all of the goodness and leaving only rotten, dead tissues and old memories but I was not. I felt I should have been running scared but I was not, I was fascinated in the thing that stood before me, the luminous human and in the intensity of the situation I felt myself begin to weep.  He had this destructive air, I could feel his soul burning with-in him and I wanted to get burnt.
     Damien wasn’t really anything he didn’t have an occupation, a qualification or an address; he simply was and nobody really knew anything about him and I was no different. The first time I laid eyes upon Damien Rivers the rain fell in thick heavy drops, I was running back to work after losing track during my break when I saw him, I had never noticed him before and I know I would have because on that day he stopped me dead in my tracks, he was stood under the shelter in a beer garden, a group of women and men surrounded him but he seemed to stand out beyond the others. He was immersed in conversation with a blond who didn’t look as though she should have been able to hold a 5 second conversation and though he was deeply involved he also seemed to be elsewhere.  I stood there and watched him, mesmerised as the rain soaked into my clothes and down to my bones. I shuddered free from his grip and realised that I was now 15 minutes late returning to work, I have to admit that once I had gotten inside and began to return books back to their shelves, I worked at the London Library, I quickly forgot about him, though I did have this constant niggling feeling that there was something in the back of my mind I couldn’t remember, an important memory struggling to surface in the darkness. I lost hold of the memory I couldn’t remember and I didn’t even consider him again until the next day. The sun shone brightly, it was April and England was suffering from sporadic showers, I had gone into the coffee shop and walked out right into him.  Of course then I didn’t know his name and he looked straight through me muttering something resembling a sorry before embracing a brunette woman in a deep hug and as I watched them I finally recalled the day before and the memory I had lost was suddenly found; my mind fell blank when I looked at him and then it was filled with nothing other than him all day long; he plagued me, I knew nothing about him but I wanted to know it all.


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