The Creek

No matter what happened, I had Ellen, and Ellen had me.

Until I didn’t.

It’s funny when you’re happy one moment, then the next you feel like you’ve lost everything your life has depended on.  At least, that’s how I’d felt.

It was raining hard.  I could barely see 2 metres away from me.

“You don’t have to go.” I whined from my place on my bed, where I’d stayed for the entire week because of my broken leg.

“And who’s going to get the groceries, Sierra?  You?” She said jokingly.

Only if it was me, I wouldn’t have had to face this pain, the agony of feeling alone while standing in the middle of a crowd, the sadness of feeling like your missing something when everything you could ever want is in front of you, the emptiness of wanting attention from a special someone despite being on a stage.

I snapped out of my trance and realised that I was crying in the library.  A few students were looking my way, concern and pity written all over their faces. 

Pity, I hated it.  I didn’t need it, it was no use to me, and I don’t know why others give it.  

After all, crying over someone that will never come back has never done anyone good.

I looked around but everywhere I looked left a dull ache in my heart, reminding me of the one person I didn’t want to remember.

I sat there, staring at the black piece of paper that seemed impossibly long.

“Sierra,” A raspy deep voice from behind me said.

I jumped a little from surprise.  It was Professor Levisay, he teaches English Literature and gives me, “therapy lessons,” as he likes to call them.

He’s an old man, near his retirement, but he loves teaching.

He sits next to me, taking a long sip from his coffee.

“No food and drinks in the library.” I reminded him with a smile as I finally started on my essay.

“Oh right.  You know me.  Can’t stop drinking this stuff.”

“Well, it’s turning into an addiction.  There are many students here that are concerned for you and you need to stop drinking it.” I replied back.

“And you need to take a break.”

I paused, I knew where this was going, and I didn’t want to go there.  I started packing my stuff.

“Sierra, staying here will only haunt you, of all the memories of Ellen and you together.  You need to get away from here for a few days.”

“But what if I forget her?” I stopped and stared at his face, all-knowing, with a hint of sadness in his eyes.  No pity.

“Then visit her grave.  You didn’t go to her funeral, right?  Go to the cemetery.  Tell her everything.  Act like how you would be with her if she was with you.”  He said simply, taking another sip.

“I’ll do that when you quit coffee.” I mumbled, continuing to pack my things as an excuse to leave, but my hands fumbled with my books, making them fall again and again.

“Alright then.” He stood up and threw the cup of coffee in the trash.  “No more coffee for me.”

I looked at him in disbelief before finally putting the last book in.  Professor Levisay raises his eyebrows, looking at me expectantly. 

“How do I know that you actually quit?” I said finally.

Professor Levisay smiled.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

I stood at the entrance of the cemetery.  I was in Ellen’s hometown, where she was buried, but couldn’t make myself actually move and see her grave.  It was too early.

I shook my head and headed to the park instead.  Professor Levisay would never know.

I walked around looking at the various flowers and birds that were in the park.  A few children were playing tag, while their parents talked to each other, keeping an eye on them.  There were two friends, around my age, walking around the park, talking, laughing, playfully hitting each other.  

I turned my gaze away to see a hidden path.  It didn’t look like it was made by someone official, but it didn’t look natural either.  No, it looked as though one person had created it by walking on it.

I entered it.  I’m not the most adventurous person, Ellen was, but I might as well give this a try.

.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

“It looked so beautiful.” Ellen started.

“What was so beautiful?” I asked, while cooking dinner.

“The creek.” She said simply, opening her drawing book and started sketching.

“You saw a creek at your house?”

“No, at the park, near the cemetery.  The path was hidden but Sierra, it was so pretty.  I found it at night, when I was lost, and it just looked so gorgeous with the moon reflected on its waters, the willow trees hanging low, the golden sand gently massaging my feet…” She zoned out, staring into the distance, as though she was at the creek instead of our apartment.

“Anyway, you should come see it too.” Ellen chirped, and continued to doodle in her book.

“Later.” I replied.

There never was a later though.

Ellen went to the creek many times, fawning over its beauty, but I never understood how a single place could make someone want to stay there forever.

Not until I went there myself.

The sun was setting, casting the creek a pinkish glow while the willow trees on the side touched it ever so lightly, creating small ripples in its peaceful waters.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the sounds of moving water take over my senses. 

This was the first time in months that I’d felt peaceful, the first time where I didn’t have to worry over something that I was forgetting.  No, it was almost like being her refreshed my mind.  I can see why someone as adventurous and calm as Ellen liked being here.

I took off my shoes and let my feet sink into the sand.  Everywhere I looked, there was something pretty to see.  There was a bird perched on a branch of a tree, singing its song.  There were wildflowers growing near the treeline, past the willows.  On another side there was a big rock, right next to the creek so that if you sat on it your feet would dip into the water.

I saw a flash of light on the rock and I looked closely.  A silvery outline was seated on it, and it was moving its legs through the water, though there was no effect.

I got up and walked closer to the figure, hoping that it was just my brain tricking me.

“So you finally came.”

I froze and held my breath.  I knew that voice.

It was the voice that comforted me during the darkest parts of my life.  It was the voice that brought joy and happiness to me when I needed it the most.  It was the voice that I could no longer hear anymore, because it just didn’t exist.

“E-Ellen?” I asked silently, but I know she heard it.

“Hello, Sierra.” she said, then turned back to the water.

“Wh-why did you leave me?” I asked, suddenly feeling like a child who was lost in a supermarket.

“I was with you the whole time.  It was up to you to see me.” She said gently.

I wanted to start crying on the spot, but before I could open my mouth Ellen shushed me.

“Sierra, can you promise something for one last time?” I nodded, not letting my voice betray the emotion inside.

“Promise me that you’ll forget a person named Ellen.  Promise me that you’ll stop crying for me.  I don’t want you waiting on me or expect for some miracle to happen.  I want you to be the Sierra like before.  I want you to live life at its fullest.  If not for you then for me.  Can you do that?” She concluded, her silvery body slowly fading into wisps.

I nodded and closed my eyes, allowing myself to feel her presence next to me.

When I opened them again, I was in the creek, where suddenly nothing looked as magical as it seemed before, and everywhere I looked left a dull ache in my heart, reminding me of the one person I didn’t want to remember.  

But I let go, like she said, and for the first time since Ellen died, I felt truly as though I was free, as though a burden that I didn't know was on me was lifted. 

I let go for Ellen.