Magnolia Bend

June 26, 1998


Keeping my head held high. Saving face. Holding onto pride. Laughing in spite of sadness. Sometimes it is all too clear. I criticize what I cannot begin to understand, but this does not mean I am bitter. Irritated by tiny gestures put forth in an attempt to turn on the unattainable party. You were in my dream helping me fight off an evil presence. It was a house occupied by my spirit in some lifetime, and once again I returned. This vision is reoccurring, but last night there was a clearness for the first time. Wood was rotting away from years of abandonment. All of our things were still in place as if this old memory was still our habitat. Nostalgia filled the room as I climbed the last step to enter through a closed door that whispers to me even now when eyes are open and thoughts are aware. Relics placed in a perfect pattern. Zig zag. Horizontal. Parallel. Circular. It started to rain and all began to soil. The cage in the backyard fell victim to three lone shots set fire by a well-known face. All fell silent. I could feel the loss, the guilt, the death. From then on chaos possessed main theme and distinction was deceiving. I knew it was a dream within a dream. Control was somewhat in my power but I couldn’t bring it to a halt.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist