Left on Lundy



An excerpt from a novel in progress.

                                                                                  Left on Lundy


                                                                               James R. Cavell




            It took fifty years to reach the time of weeping.  Deep and guttural, from way down far where the diaphragm spasms, uncontrollable tremors summon the sky to open and shower the earth with tears.  All because of a brief moment in time so long ago.

            Only three hours had elapsed from the time my father dropped me off at the church until I was found in the desert.  Three hours that ended one life and created another.  Enough time to cleanse a child's memory and construct an impassable barrier that would endure half of century.

            I remember the confusion when they found me.  There were many questions.  How did I get there?  Why did I leave the church?  What happened?  There were no answers because I was stuck in a fog, all around me the ground pulsed.  I tasted poison and felt poisoned if a child could taste and feel such things.

            In the days that followed, everything changed in my World and stayed the same in the ground I lived on.  The questions ended without answers.  It seemed to satisfy all of them.  My return to the church to finish classes for my First Holy Communion held no more importance.  Secrets in the form of hushed conversations swirled all around me.  Something dark pulsed like a diseased machine and made me very angry.

            Those hushed voices soon suggested it would be a good idea for me to travel and visit relatives I had never met or heard of.  Spending the rest of the summer in a different place was the best medicine.  It would be good for any young boy.  I remember that time as the time I was no longer a boy.

            My return home was the summoning.  Everything had returned to order and I was back to normal.  The sandbox was different though, and all the other places adults ignored had changed.  They said I didn't play well with others anymore.  I was quiet and sullen, prone to outbursts of uncontrollable anger.  It was normal wasn't it?  Boys will be boys.

            Their memories faded until life was normal again.  It wasn't the same for me.  Mine stayed the same except for three very long hours that totally disappeared.  I could feel them, like a monster always lurking just beyond my vision.  The hours were obdurate, mired in a fen of anger and hate because I wouldn't know them.


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