Oretha's View

In the dead of the night, there was a harsh brisk breeze that had the

stale taste of fermented wine in the air, the howling of wolves, and

the scattered calling of owls. My ears could hear how fast I was

running as I was calling to him on my spiritline. “My sunlight

do you hear me….”My voice was shaken as if the air in my lungs

were being clasped and crushed inside of my body. “ Tell me I am

still your moonlight..” My lips were shaken I could feel the way my soul

was leaving my body. “I don't want to do this anymore.. I don’t

want to struggle I don’t want to feel my life leaving my body… My

sunlight. I don’t want to disappoint you…. I wouldn’t do

anything to hurt you intentionally.” I could hear the pattering of

beasts coming from all sides of me as if surely this is the last

breath I would surely make. I could hear the fogging of his voice “My

Moonlight. I am sorry I don't know...you have done this to me I

don't know If I can forgive you for this.” All I could think at

this time it was like the perfect crumbling of a perfect tragic love

story, his voice utterly breaking knowing it was all my doing. What I

would have done to change things, but wishing won't do anything..I

just wish I was the one...I wish I was the one he would have moved

worlds to be with….I wished to be the one thing he valued the

most...to never let me fall to never let us fail. I could only mutter

a few words before I would slumber into a deep sleep that would take

me to years past reliving every moment till the words that were to

leave my lips. “Do you remember how everything started?…. Didn't

you promise me that we would be together through everything...Didn’t

you promise me you would never hurt me the way they hurt me?” I

felt my body just wanting and crying and searching for an answer

that would be enlightening as if I would understand that everything

happened for a reason and that we would grow from our mistakes and

it wouldn’t ever happen again…? My Sunlight did we not make

each-other promises? Love of my life. I know I have done you

wrong..please don’t leave me...didn't you remember that you broke

promises too?” The spiritline that connected us seems all but

severed and I can’t hear his call anymore and I don't feel his

spirit in my body anymore because he refuses… all I can do is take

my spirit to the past in hopes he finds me. After all maybe if I

could drift my spirit to the past things maybe might have been

different, maybe choices would have changed, maybe I would have

spoken more openly...Maybe if I would have let him be himself, by

letting him do what he wants instead of protecting him and his dignity

maybe he would have valued my heart more. If Only I could tell myself

to love myself first. I wish I could go back all them years ago when

it first started...I wish I loved myself as much as I loved you to

show you how to have properly loved me.

My name is Oretha Snider the third, I am the third daughter of the

Snider family, A middle-class family. My Father is of the Middle noble

class, and my mother is an Exotic woman of the sands. So I was

particularly looking, I used to have hair dark brown that in the sun

sparkled like a firecracker and eyes that were brown but looked like

tiger eyes, lips plump and desirable even from a young age. My

father expected us, ladies, to act a certain way and my mother expected

us to be groomed into smart intelligent elegant women. I was a bit

secret with my likes, as I knew that it would displease their

future for me. They wanted me to be the perfect housewife for a man

and to live comfortably. I know this, but some of the way they

treated me…. To be compared to the perfect eldest sister who would

stride above all us siblings, my sister a medic and healer. To be

smarter and as skinny as my second sister, to be fit and athletic and

smart in books. A sister who teaches the younger generation. I wonder

if they remember things how they were when we were… I wonder If

they remember the rumbling and grumbling of father, the shattering of

pictures falling down the spindle staircase way. I wonder if they

remember how mother and father would come back home smelling like the

ooze of booze. I know I was always fluctuating in weight. I remember

the stress of trying to remain the perfect daughter, my beauty

feeling sub-par to that of my sisters. Each of us with our own

interests. I wanted to find love, I wanted to become someone worth

loving and I wanted to be proud of myself as I was growing up, All I

wanted was for people to be proud to be my friend and to know me.

And it seems as of right now I might have given myself a little too

much for love as the breath in my lungs feels like heavy bricks that

add a chalky taste to the fermented air. So to say the least that

growing up, I might have a twisted view of myself than others might

see. After all,  mother always would tell me “Kitchen is closed

Oretha, you don’t want to be as big as a house.” I remember

how It would feel to be hungry and not hungry at the same time. I

remember feeling starved and not starved for someone to love me and

to love me through all of the ugly faults that I see in myself and

that others see in me. To still feel the warm touch of someone I

love touching me and wanting to feel safe inside their arms as if to

never worry as if we were to hurt each other. I realize now how

innocent that thinking is, I should have never thought that love

would be perfect and that both people would never hurt each other. To

expect to twisted seeds to grow into a perfect fruit with no sour

tastes. If your own parent can hurt you why would someone else love

you through all of your mistakes? Still, even now I remember how

growing up began to change, It was shortly after my father began to

follow the church's call. I remember how Father used to tell us how

women should act. I think I remember most how my father was always

disappointed in me in for my school work, But I also remember always

trying to be my father's favorite daughter. Like spending time in the

hot summer days in the sun, the walks in the river, and the late

nights sneaking and listening to the royal guards' radio to

hear what shenanigans were happening in town. I remember when things

have gotten worse. They wouldn’t understand things from my view, it was

always I was a mess up. I lied, I didn’t care, I am fat. I am not

smart. To want to be perfect to know you are not, to know that no

matter what things will never be perfect in one's path. I don't think

they realized how it made me feel when my sisters would leave me to

play with others, to always be grounded for being unable to retain

information like others. It was as if sometimes information would

fall out of my head as I was read or as if things would dissipate if

not repeated often. I wonder if they would tell you how I was boy

obsessed, that I would always place myself first. I wonder if they

would tell you how I would always try to cook to warm their bellies

and make sure they knew I wanted to be around. I wonder if they knew

when I asked if they wanted to be with me and play with the entertainment

box, that I was crying for them to love me and accept me. I wonder

if they knew everything that I ever tried to cover up was so that

they wouldn't find out that I was just wanting them to love me no

matter what I had to say or what my opinion of things was. I always

asked when I felt things weren’t right, but then I discovered things

aren’t always black and white after all how can it be when even

something that is supposed to be as simple as love can be so devastating.

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