The installation this weekend went pretty smoothly, so I didn’t have much down time to pass nor think about the plots let alone the conclusion. I am sorry to have to disappoint you. I still don’t know where I am heading and how to end the story. By the way, since this is work in progress, I constantly reread what I wrote and revise it. So if you have read what I wrote previously, you might want to reread it again. I have reposted what I wrote earlier with additional plot. If you are tired of reading what you have already read, you can start with the part highlighted which contains the new plot. Please bear with me while I try to put an end to this story. By the way, I have come up with a title for the story but might rename it later, depending on where the plots lead.
Written by Elisa English, all rights reserved
Drafted on 1/29/2011 in Minneapolis.
Modified on 2/6/2011 in Minneapolis.
Modified on 2/12/2011 in Minneapolis.
Revised on 2/14/2012 in Minneapolis.
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A Fictional Story – A Glimpse of the Past
Chapter 1: Diana
Inside the house was utter silence, not a pin drop to be heard. Came into her view were toys scattered and pieces of paper strewed everywhere. Uneasiness crept up her spine; she froze for a moment. Feeling unsettled, she roamed from room to room only to find stillness filling the air. Frantically, she ran outside into the backyard. There was neither a rustling of leaves nor a sound obtruding but the deep stilled hush that permeated the woods in this inky blackness. Fear saturated, she collapsed to the ground, unable to form a coherent thought. Her world shattered, “Amelia. Carly”, reverberating in the air were echoes of her cry. Diana awoke with a paralyzing rush of sadness enveloping her, so deeply bone-aching that it was excruciatingly unbearable. What was it all about? Somehow, she felt as if she was standing next to that lady, witnessing the event, so lucid yet so surreal. What was her role in this dream? Was it nothing but a dream, this recurring dream which left her intensely perturbed? This overwhelming sense of loss, agonizingly heart-wrenching, clouded her mind with confusion.
Outside, the night was still and dark as in her dream, not a trace of light seeping through nor a breath of air stirring. This silence that reigned supreme, whose dominancy no sound dared to challenge, left her lost again in her reclusiveness. She stared vacantly into the emptiness where her mind wandered in the impermeable twilight that lay beyond. Another restless night, she thought.
Gradually, within the clouds a silvery blue peeked through, followed by gleams of crimson which blazed the somber sky. Bright streaks of dawn stretched across the horizon, streaming through the windows and covering the room with rosy veil, which illuminated her face and dispelled the gloom of the tedious night that once clouded the room. The day was bright and crisp anew. Maybe it was time to put an end to this recurring dream, she thought. She grabbed a pair of sunglasses to hide the dark circle under her eyes, and then headed to the library.
The search turned out to be a wild-goose chase. She was completely clueless, buried by the influx of information. How little trace she had to begin with, like finding a needle in a hay stack. She chuckled; maybe she should see a shrink instead. A strange sensation flowed through her body. She was somewhat surprised at her ability to laugh, an emotion which had fled her ever since she could remember. This recurring dream must have driven her insane. How could her, a child brought up in a strict, oppressive and traditional Asian family, act so out of character? Imprisoned by rigidity, she was always so focused, disciplined and goal-driven. Suddenly, a surge of emotion, so tumultuous, incapacitated her. Quickly, she brushed off any thought of the past. She hated all that pretension under the disguise of a so-called “virtuous circle” and the great sacrifice claimed by her parents to maximize her chance of success and for the benefit of her well-being. She resented all the comparisons with other Asian kids and felt immensely repulsive at the snobbishness in most Asians under the guise of “false” humility. All these years of coercion since she was a toddler to push her to where she was now had finally driven her over the edge to the point of no return.
Her past, was it truly such unbearable? Not something she would reminisce over. The mere thought of her family revolted her. Though her life in seclusion was sadly, derived solely for the purpose of escaping her haunting past, inadvertently creating gossips around her the enormity of which like a fly in the ointment distracted from the peace of mind in her solitude, she was glad that her parents never bothered her after her suicide. She finally got her own life back, or did she? Deep in her mind, she was eminently troubled by the missing years from the time she earned her doctorate degree to the time she committed suicide. What could have happened during those years which seemed to leave a total blank in her life? Did it have anything to do with her recurring dream? Suspicious as Diana now was that her dream might in a fashion connect to her amnesia, she was curious as to what might have caused it, but at the same time intimidated by the likelihood that something detrimental could be the culprit.
The serene sunshine, whose warmth rendered it delightful, sequentially extinguished the smoldering disquiet lurking in silence. She decided to put this mystery aside and enjoy the lovely day instead.
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Written by Elisa English, all rights reserved
Drafted on 1/29/2011 in Minneapolis.
Modified on 2/6/2011 in Minneapolis.
Modified on 2/12/2011 in Minneapolis.
Revised on 2/14/2012 in Minneapolis.
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