Lost by Forrister
Email address: forrister@hotmail.comFeedback: Please – I really appreciate some constructive feedback. (Not necessarily positive feedback, but definitely constructive.)
Distribution: Please don’t distribute or archive my story without asking me.
Rating: PG –13
Disclaimer: I know Joss owns them all. I know I don’t. (Some things belong with the people who really care for them.)
Note: This is a point of view piece covering the last four episodes of Season 5. The point of view is Tara’s. Yes, she has been mind-sucked by Glory, but I was always of the opinion that Tara was lost inside herself, struggling to find her way out. I always wondered what was going on inside her head while we were all torn up over what was happening to her in the traumatic end to S 5. The dialogue that appears here all belongs to Joss and is reproduced as it appears in the ‘Psyche transcripts’ of those episodes. The viewpoint is highly surreal, but is my interpretation of Tara’s journey back to herself. Hope you don’t get too weirded out by my way of explaining all Tara’s obscure comments. - F
Thanks: This piece was written for Katharyn’s birthday in 2001. She has encouraged me to post it, she beta read it and made suggestions that really improved it, she deserves the thanks and a chunk of the credit for making it what it is.
This is a one off, stand-alone piece . . . there will be no further chapters, this is it folks.
Lost Pain.
PAIN!!!!!
LIGHT! PAIN!!! LIGHT!
Darkness. . . . . . .**********
I exist on a formless plain of shadow. A steady rain of foul-smelling muck falls from an angry crimson sky.
I am naked and covered in putrid mud.
“It’s dirty. It’s all dirty. And all over me!” I recognise my own voice and know my own feelings but still, I’m strangely detached from it all.
Where am I?
Who am I?
I know that I smell. I’m a bad girl. I see a man who points his enormous finger at me and tells me so again and again. Father?
“Dirty. Dirty. I’m bad. Bad!” Wait.
Something, no,
someone is missing. Is that what I have to do? Do I have to find her?
Her?
Find who?
There is no direction, everything seems the same shade of muddy grey.
I have no idea how long I’ve walked, or how far. Time exists and doesn’t exist. I know I’ve slept and eaten, but I can’t recall when or what. As I walk things begin to form around me and I find myself in a corridor lined with doors. Each door holds something that belongs to me and each door is different. How do I know this? I have no idea, I just know it.
I go to the nearest door. It is short and round and green. Doors are meant for opening . . . or perhaps closing. I open this one a crack, fearful at what I might find there. It’s so bright inside. Bright with colour and light. An older woman wearing a pale floral dress and cardigan is talking to a girl dressed in a colourful tie-dyed shirt. The woman offers the girl a ripe red apple. I know there’s something wrong here, but what is it?
Then it comes to me. I know this. It’s the apple!
“It’s poisoned.” She can’t hear me? Am I speaking? Am I right?
“I – I – it has to be verified, of course. Anyone can tell you that. Of course.” They don’t listen, not to me anyway, and Rose Red takes a bite. She falls to the floor.
The room suddenly seems full of people, all staring, all silent.
“Of course, of course.” Of course what? Something is meant but I can’t quite grasp it. The scene is still, no movement, no breathing.
A little black and white kitty jumps into my arms and purrs for me. I smile. Kitties are good.
“They kill mice.” This kitty rubs up against me and gives me kitty cuddles, they feel good. But this isn’t allowed. They can see me and I can’t have a kitty because I’m bad. Donny told and Mother takes the kitty away.
“Don’t! Please don’t with that treachery!” I loved my kitty and now she’s gone. I plead.
“I told the cat. And now I beg my mother sitting all alone.” But she doesn’t listen and fades away. I am once again alone.
**********
The room fades and I’m left standing in that endless corridor once more. Muted lights swirl and part as I walk between them. I can hear sounds and snatches of conversation but I see no one. There were lots of doors here before. I wonder where they’ve all gone? I just walk, searching for … for something, someone. I wake. I sleep. Time flows and stands still all at once. Finally I see another door. A door that didn’t disappear on me. An old kitchen door. A door into summer.
The fields are full with ripening grain and the trees are laden with fruit. There’s a lazy, sweet smell of summer in the air. But there's something else too. Something acrid, something wrong. Why does something always have to be wrong? I walk around the tree and find Donny with my dolls. He has the seven of them tied to little stakes and has piled wood around them and set it alight. I don’t move. Donny hasn't seen me and if he doesn’t see me he can’t hurt me.
I watch as the flames take hold. The doll's faces are beginning to run now, probably because of what they're made of. I know the word, its on the tip of my tongue, but it escapes me for the moment. The largest doll melts fastest, collapsing into a molten mess long before the other six lose their form. Plastic!
"Plastic and their six sisters" I whisper, as they begin to sag into the flames.
"Six sick sisters." Donny destroys everything of mine. Everything except the things my mother keeps safe for me in the chest by the bed. The things that Grandma left for me.
Donny looks up and sees me. He has his angry face on and I have to run. I have to get away. I run through the orchard and the sweet smelling grass to the water where the willow trees sag into the water.
"Willow?" There's something about that word… Something comforting. Something safe. I climb high into her branches where I can’t be seen.
Donny is closer now. I know he’ll hurt me if he can catch me. I don't think he likes me much. I'm a person that only a mother could love. Hiding is a way to be safe from Donny, from Father and his disapproval. Donny knows I'm here somewhere. He throws stones and shatters the tree like he was shattering a mirror. He’s hurting her. He’d hurting the tree – just like he’ll hurt me.
"No. The place is cracking! It's cracking! Cracking! no, no, no!" I fall and land with a thud.
There’s only one way out. The door I came in. I run for it, dodging stones and bricks as I go. The door gets larger and larger and begins to glow.
"Oh, look at that, look at that. The light!" It’s a clear light and it beckons me. This light is the Key to everything. I’m sure of it. It’s so beautiful.
"Oh, it's so pure! Such pure green energy!" Finding the Key is everything. I have to move towards that light, to reach out and touch it.
"Oh, it's so beautiful !" As I reach it, the door dissolves into a cloud of green sparkles and I pass back into the corridor once more.
**********
Somehow the corridor seems more … crowded. I can't see another living soul but I can feel them there, whispering so softly that I can't quite hear them. Time is an illusion. Light and dark pass by, sleep comes and goes and I keep walking. I pass some doors, not daring to enter because I know the things that are locked inside. Things that are dark and evil. The things of mine I don't want but can't escape. I know they're there and they know I'm here and we keep apart by an unspoken agreement.
There is a door, a decorative door with wrought iron bands in ivy patterns. This door calls to me and I carefully lift the latch, wondering what I might find beyond the threshold. It is a sunny day and a crowded fair. People in medieval costumes, jugglers and tumblers, and a fire breather. We walk down the makeshift streets hand in hand, Mother and I. This is our special time. Father and Donny are back on the farm and we are here for this special day. Mother wanted it particularly and for some reason that I can't understand Father permitted it. Perhaps Mother used her magic? But no, she always said that changing people's minds by magic would end badly. I don't quite understand why, but if Mother says it then it must be so.
We pass stalls selling food and hats, carved boxes and leatherwork, until we come to a stall that gleams with a thousand points of light. They are selling crystals and prisms and to my eyes it looks like fairyland. All the colours of the rainbow are dancing in front of my eyes. They call to me. I turn to Mother and I ask,
"So pretty, can I have one?" as I reach out to touch. Mother gently takes my arm away, Father would never allow it to be hung up as it should be. He'd think it was one of those things that should never be spoken of, like Mother's bad days when she stays in the guest room.
The lights twinkle and glow. They are so beautiful and I just have to touch them and feel the light. As my hand brushes the prism it falls to the ground and cracks. The man is yelling and Mother holds me close although I can tell I've been very bad. I can't help it. I try, but Father says it's in me and will come out one day. Mother dries my eyes but the sun is covered by cloud and the crystals cease to shine.
"All the light is gone." The beautiful light is gone, Mother is gone and I’m alone. The stall is gone, the fair is gone. Only me, … me and the voices which have gotten louder.
"All dark. All dark." The voices echo my words in my thoughts and I know that something is coming. Something big.
I turn and run and try to escape whatever it is that’s coming. I try to find my Mother but I know inside that she is truly gone, never to return. Her light is gone too. I find myself in the corridor again and now it’s beginning to slowly pulse with a sullen, reddish light. The voices are stronger here and I need to get away so I start running in the hope that another door will open somewhere ahead of me.
Each door offers me hope. A part of myself. A distraction from this terrible journey I’m on. But distractions can’t last and every time I am driven back onto the path.
**********
Running. Faster and faster, swifter, like the wind. I have run far and fast into a joyous freedom. I'm no longer running but riding. My chestnut mare, Belle, is the fastest thing on four hooves as we gallop through the pasture and down to the river. She is my freedom and my friend. We travel together and enjoy each other's company. Father got her as payment for a cow in calf last spring. Donny had been given his horse two years ago but he wouldn't care for the gelding and Father sold it. Donny was angry about that but Father refused to give him another until he could prove that he was responsible enough to care for the animals needs before his own. I always look after Belle though, brushing her down after a ride, making sure she's safe in her stall with a blanket and fresh water and feed at night, and greeting her with a piece of apple or carrot in the morning. She's my only friend now that Beth has found better friends to be with.
We canter softly across the field until we stop beneath a tall oak. I dismount and sit while Belle rests and nuzzles my hair. These are the best of times. The summer days when I can be alone with my thoughts and dreams. I can hear the distant thunder of hooves and the sound of Belle replying to the call. The wild mustangs sometimes come down from the hills. The farmers hate them because they damage the crops but I love to catch a glimpse of their passing. They are free in away that I can never be. I take a tight grip on Belle's reins just in case the call is stronger than her love for me. I don't think that she would betray me and run, but she might not be able to help herself. You have to be where your heart takes you. I see the dust cloud and catch a fleeting glimpse of a tossing head or flashing hoof.
"Horsies!" I point out to Belle. But Belle is gone. The call was too strong and she left me too.
I am alone.
I just stand, drowning in regrets and unclaimed possibilities. The walls of the corridor appear faintly transparent as I watch the seasons whirl and change. Slowly at first and then with increasing swiftness.
"Time! Time! Time!" The voices echo as time comes unbidden to the land. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. Birth, growth, harvest, death. It shouldn’t be that fast but something is coming that makes it so. Time is running swiftly . . . running out.
"Time! Time! Time!" The voices are much stronger now, merging with the pulsing of the corridor walls which have solidified around me. One of the voices is mine, but my voice is part of a huge chorus of voices that echo in the endless corridor. I run back and forth, trying desperately to break free from the now solid walls. I hear the pulse of the chorus echoing my despair. There's also another voice. A soft voice, a soothing voice. Not Mother, someone else. The someone I need to find?
**********
The walls of the corridor are a blood red now and there are things crawling up the walls. Thin, slimy things.
"Wriggling!" I brush them out of my hair and continue on. The walls are pulsing like the sound of many heartbeats. My heart beats with them and I realise that I am travelling with a purpose. I have somewhere to be. I don't yet know where it is or what I'll find there, but I know I have to go. It pulls me, and pushes me. Keeps me moving ever onward.
The corridor ends suddenly in a pair of double doors. I stop because I know what's behind those doors. I don't want to go there again. I don't want to remember this. I'd rather have the pain and oblivion. But as usual, my choice doesn't change things. The corridor behind me shrinks. Closer and closer, forcing me to go where I don't want to be. Pushing, insistent. With a shove from behind, I'm there.
A hospital room, full of machines that beep and buzz and flash in the dull light. Wires and tubes and a bed, and very small, right in the middle is Mother. Her eyes are closed and there are tubes in her nose and mouth. Tubes in her arms and wires on her chest. This is the woman who taught me to love and revere nature. Surrounded by technology. She’d hate that.
The illness was slow at first, and almost unnoticeable. Mother grew tired easily and Father kept her locked in the guest room more often. Later, only when it was obvious that she was ill he decided that a doctor was needed. The doctor could not give much hope apart from poisonous chemicals and radiation to kill the disease in her, if it didn't kill her first. Father wanted her to do it, even though it might mean exposing her shameful secret. Mother refused, not wanting to lose herself any more than she already had. She cast some spells that brought her some relief and allowed me to help. I spent all the time I could with her, apart from the time she needed to be locked away of course. But eventually the illness began to win and so the road to this place was complete.
I wonder if she can hear me? Lying there, so small and helpless. No sign of the loving mother, the dutiful wife, or the powerful witch. Just a shell, being kept alive by modern machines. They’ve told us that they can keep her body alive but that her brain is no longer functioning. Is she here, or in the Summerland? Her body is here and it's alive. I don't want her to die but at the same time I can't stand for her to live like this. I feel so guilty for feeling this way and so sorry for feeling guilty. Like a mouse on a wheel, going around and around in guilt and despair and pain. Father has made his decision and they all come in. I have nothing more to say. I've said it all. They put their hand to the switch and there is silence. Nothing more, no last sigh, no loving look, just silence. I want to cry, scream, shake her until she wakes up, but I do nothing. I'm glad it's over. It's terrible of me, I know but I can't help myself.
The room fades and the corridor opens up yet again.
**********
I can feel it. It's coming to me or I'm going to it, I can't really tell anymore. The corridor is red - purple and veined with pulsing life. The voices join with me and call to me but I can't go to them, I'm held back by something or someone. Someone … The Someone, kisses me and lets me know that I'm loved. There are other voices now, voices that aren’t part of the chorus. I knew they were there but I couldn’t quite hear them before. I can't see them but I stretch out my hand in the hope that The Someone will grasp it and hold me close. There is nobody there.
The chorus gets more insistent and I'm bound from following them by the newer voices. I have to go!
"I have places to be!" No one answers but the chorus inside. The insistent chorus that pulse with the movement of the walls. Images float past as I walk. A man with a book. A blonde muscular woman. A tall man with white hair. I see a little figure move across the path and disappear.
"Hoppy toad." It makes me smile for some reason. The toad… all hoppy. It’s funny and strangely comforting.
I move forward but my surroundings stand still. I'm held immobile as I begin to run in vain.
"Big day. Oh, it calls me! I have to be there." I try to stop running in place but I fail. I so want to be there. I need to be there.
"Big Day!" The chorus is demanding, calling me to come, and I have to go.
I hear a voice.
" Tara, baby? Is there somewhere you should be?" It’s the one voice I search for, that I long for. I turn but see no one. I need to find that voice.
"They held me down," I complain to the air. An image floats in front of me. A beautiful woman with flaming red hair and lovely emerald eyes.
"No one’s holding you. It’s the big day, right?" The woman says in tender and loving tones.
"Do you wanna go?" I do want to go, but I don't want to leave her. The chorus in my head and the voice in front of me fight in a deafening crescendo but the chorus wins and I begin to move. As I pass the man with the book I can see the blood on his hands and the shadow in his eyes.
"You're a killer. " I tell him. There is nothing I can do. There is nothing he can do.
"This is all set down." It is as it is meant to be. It’s what will be. What is. What was.
I walk slowly toward the sullen glow at the end of the corridor. As I walk I free my hand from the stone that imprisons it, in preparation for the job at hand. As I get closer the chorus get louder and I can feel the images following behind me. I reach the tower and know that it is my task to help in the building of this monument to the goddess. Something is not quite right here, but the chorus in my head cries out in anticipation and joy. I think back on all I have seen in my journey and know inside that this is where it was always meant to end.
I can't help but hold the idea of the red-haired woman in my mind. I can tell she's looking for me and I want to be found. But there's so much to do and so little time! Then she's there. Strong, confident, in control. She touches me and I am filled with blue fire.
Light!
POWER!
FREEDOM!!!I fly through the air into blackness.
**********
"Tara!" I hear her calling my name. That lovely voice. I could listen to that voice forever.
"Tara?" Closer now. I open my eyes slowly to see her there before me.
"Tara?" "W … Willow?" Her smile is like dawn breaking in a clear sky.
"Tara?" She asks hopefully.
My tears flow, but they're tears of joy, not pain. I’m free.
"Willow … I got so lost." Her smile grows and shines with the glow of full sunshine.
"I found you." She replies.
I have her lips to caress me and her arms to hug me and I'm happy just to be here in those arms.
She looks at me and makes a solemn promise.
"I will always find you." THE END Mentem, non formam, plus pollereMind, not outward form, prevails
Edited by: forrister at: 4/14/03 12:14:20 pm