Pondfather (story in the works-updated 10/20)

Father had been dead for over a month before Warren realized that he was actually, fatherless.

Sure, he had stood by as his mother as she had cried great tears of pain, and listened to his grandmother tell countless tales of his father as a boy; but it hadn’t really hit him, the death of his father, until he witnessed the miracle at the pond.

Warren and his father were not particularly close when he was alive, so in his death, Warren forgot these specific details. He reminded himself instead by sketching odd picture-like notes, and then posting them on his bedroom walls, or by tying black strings to his fingers…in remembrance.

After all, black was the color of death.

It was also the color of water…sometimes.

But still, he forgot. He was careless, asking his mother why his father had gone on such a long vacation this time, and to this…his mother would cry and leave the room.

Then other times, Warren would remember and cry as he should…with long intervals of sadness and pain….

Warren and his father had been similar in many ways; even his grandmother had told him so.

 Both had eyes the color of coal and hair that glistened in the sun, like a metallic metal, shifting to and fro, from a golden hue to a mirage of colors, quite unnatural to that of a human being; a hyper color of rainbows.  He was his father, only his colors, mirrored far greater brilliance.

 Warren never felt his father’s spirit; many people like to think of their loved ones lingering close, even in death…they feel their presence, they say. Warren scoffed at this thought; when he would remember his dead father, that is. 

When he was alive, his father felt further away than even now, this was true; but Warren preferred his father gone, and relished the thought of it being just his mother and him now. He couldn’t remember why he felt this way.  He just did.

One morning, not so long ago, Warren’s mother sat him down gently to inquire as to why he did not miss his father as she had. She had asked him… “Warren, did you not love your daddy?”

To this, Warren only stared at her with his dark fluid-like eyes and smiled. Warren loved his mother, but she was beginning to ask the strangest questions! Sure he loved his dad, but what Warren could not understand was why his father was gone all of the time. Maybe his father didn’t love them back? Maybe… that was why he was never around anymore.

Something in Warren’s memory sparked as he thought of this….

“Mom, where is my dad?” Warren whispered.

“Honey, your father is dead,” mother replied with her blue eyes, as sad as pond water.

Things went on like this, Warren had his strings and pictures to remind him, and his mother had only memories; something Warren did not possess.

Warren’s mother grew concerned for Warren, as he grew older she noticed his memory fading more and more…growing murky and dull…even the light in his eyes had dimmed.

Grandmother only laughed at this idea and urged Warren to find peace in nature; she looked to Warren’s mother and replied, “My dear, the pond will make him remember…”

Mother looked on with confusion.

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Warren decided to follow his grandmother’s advice and sought out his memories within nature. He thought to himself, that maybe…just maybe, the trees, the grass and the pond knew him better than he knew himself. Maybe he had lost his memories somewhere out there, just as grandmother had said. So Warren began to look. He looked in the bushes, and within the small forest that lay just beyond the house, but all he had found was a couple of bouncy balls and a crumpled up handkerchief. Warren became fearful that he may never recover the memories he had lost. And if he had found them…how would he know that they were his anyway?

Warren searched for many days, but nothing reminded him of nothing….and still his mind grew cloudy. Mother grew more worried as Warren forgot dinner time and misplaced his knapsack, making him miss his bus on more than one occasion.  He even lost his way among the walls that made up his home, walking into the pantry when he had to go to the bathroom.

Mother grew so afraid for her son’s ailing memory, that she took Warren to the family doctor to get his head examined, even against the grandmother’s wishes.

“Mrs. Waters, Warren appears to be just fine,” said Warren’s doctor to his mother. “He is reacting to his father’s death in a way that we cannot understand, that’s all… let him be and he will pull through.”

So mother let him be.

And Warren wandered…

Then one day, while Warren sat in his room reading his comics, he heard a curious sound carried through the wind. Like a whisper, it came in fluid bursts….reminding Warren of something he once knew.  Warren looked into the sky, then down to the ground, but he could not locate the whispering wind. It was everywhere, and yet, nowhere at all.

Once, when Warren was a small child, he liked to collect stones from down by the pond. He couldn’t recall their meaning to him then, but he did remember the coldness of them within his small palms. He remembered their smell, of moss and watery beasts below.

He remembered….

Warren hurried to collect the rocks that were hidden away in his sock drawer. In a panic, he dug for those rocks, those small stones from down by the pond. There they were, all 5 stones, blackish blue skipping rocks and smooth round agates found their way back into the boys palms. How could he have forgotten?

His memories, held captive within stones, lay waiting for his return.

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With all of the commotion momma heard from upstairs, she thought Warren had joined a circus, complete with riding ponies and tumbling acrobats; which would, after all, not surprise her one bit, considering the most recent events. So up the stairs she began, to warn Warren of the dangers of playing indoors! After all, Warren was such a fragile child!

“Warren honey, what are you doing in there?”

Loud sloshing noises answered her back from beyond Warren’s bedroom door. Momma grew anxious and called again. Perhaps Warren mistook his bedroom for the bath again?

“Warren, momma’s worried dear. Are you ok? Can I come in?”

Pools of water collected from beneath Warren’s door, but no answer came. The sloshing grew to a loud crashing sound, that resembled waves, the hissssing wave pounded back, as if to reply to momma’s concerned pleas.

Momma pushed open the swelling door, water crashed at her from all sides, pooling around her ankles and calves. She could not understand what lay beyond that door…not ever; her eyes grew murky and unable to adjust…as, she did not yet have her under water sight.

“Where is my Warrrrreeennnn?” momma gurgled from beneath the crashing waves.

But Warren and his memories were gone.