Steve
the EX-QUEEN of FW~!
[updated:LAST EDITED ON Aug-01-02 AT 06:49 PM (EDT)]Time of departure: 8:45.
Mark Windham hates to travel, much less that early. He’s not a morning person, never has been, never will be. No Windham is. It’s not so much a personal hang up, as it is a family trait.
When you run from the idea of rest, when it does come, you take advantage of it, until one day it stops forgiving you. Mark, Troy, Timmy, they’ve spent their lives extending the night.
It’s simple really. They’re running.
Mark discovered at an early age, when you lay still in the darkness, it comes for your soul. The fires that have destroyed his life have both been the only light in the sky.
He waded through a forest in Sweetwater, looking for his brother on the night of the first fire, to no end. While his bare feet bled, Mark searched, passing quiet trees, who knew where Timmy had run off to, but weren’t kind enough to light a course. They were playing a game he thought. It wasn’t the time. He dropped to his knees, quickly being surrounded by the pain gushing out of his open cuts, and prayed. He couldn’t play the game now. Please, he prayed, show him where fate carried Timmy. He’d come back later and dance with them until they no longer could stand the thought of being entertained, but at that moment, he asked for light so that he might save Timmy.
Mark was found at dawn the next morning, fallen to a fetal position, exhausted, but not too tired to cry. He knew what he lost that night, and it was more than just a brother.
Years later, there are men and women sickened by Windham’s reaction to the fire in Sweetwater that brought down Fish Fund Park, and nearly claimed his “brother’s” life. It was as if the game never stopped. Timmy was gone again, and Windham vilified for not searching. Mark’s resolve to look, to save his brother, died that night as a boy, when he broke himself searching in the night. His soul was lost long ago. If fate had opened the door for Windham to save it, he stood alone, far from being amused. He prayed the first time, but never again. How can you save others when you can’t save yourself? Mark Windham was Lost. He understood that. And on that second fiery night in Sweetwater, he got off his knees, cleaned his old wounds, and started running.
Surprisingly, probably most to Windham himself, Mark’s destination was the light.
What destroyed Mark’s life wasn’t a fire in Sweetwater, or an old-man hell bent on revenge. It was a decision he made when Timmy was lost, to stop. Windham gave up the search.
He ran after the blaze that crippled Fish Fund park, to begin looking anew, for Timmy, and for his Lost Soul.
That’s been Windham’s life in the night. Lives destroyed when he’s rested. But everyman must rest, and when Mark consents, he never wants to wake. Sometimes he thinks it’s the only way he’ll win, to sleep long enough for the search to work itself out. But Mark knows too well now, one who doesn’t walk the path himself, is destined to be off course.
8:45.
He’s trying to sleep tonight. Sunshine’s head tucked under his, her blonde hair hugging his neck, reassuring Mark the trees can’t keep silent forever. Mark slides his right hand over Sunshine’s bareback, lightly digging his nails into her pale skin. He sleeps best when covered by her. Sunshine knows this, he’s sure, but now isn’t the time for secrets between the two. It’s one of many things Troy’s older brother has never told her.
Mark just has to let his nails dig a little longer then he’s certain he’ll sleep. Once more up Sunshine’s back before he stops waiting for disaster to come between them.
She’s saved him. This is how he’ll sleep for the rest of his life, with Sunshine, and with satisfaction that he’s close to having rebuilt his own soul.
Then Windham may look for and save others.
The Lost Soul’s eyes shut and his hand rests for the night on the small of his love’s back. He has to get up early tomorrow, and board a flight he hopes will be the beginning of a new awakening for anyone who cares to listen.
And there are many who must.
Mark Windham hates to travel, much less that early. He’s not a morning person, never has been, never will be. No Windham is. It’s not so much a personal hang up, as it is a family trait.
When you run from the idea of rest, when it does come, you take advantage of it, until one day it stops forgiving you. Mark, Troy, Timmy, they’ve spent their lives extending the night.
It’s simple really. They’re running.
Mark discovered at an early age, when you lay still in the darkness, it comes for your soul. The fires that have destroyed his life have both been the only light in the sky.
He waded through a forest in Sweetwater, looking for his brother on the night of the first fire, to no end. While his bare feet bled, Mark searched, passing quiet trees, who knew where Timmy had run off to, but weren’t kind enough to light a course. They were playing a game he thought. It wasn’t the time. He dropped to his knees, quickly being surrounded by the pain gushing out of his open cuts, and prayed. He couldn’t play the game now. Please, he prayed, show him where fate carried Timmy. He’d come back later and dance with them until they no longer could stand the thought of being entertained, but at that moment, he asked for light so that he might save Timmy.
Mark was found at dawn the next morning, fallen to a fetal position, exhausted, but not too tired to cry. He knew what he lost that night, and it was more than just a brother.
Years later, there are men and women sickened by Windham’s reaction to the fire in Sweetwater that brought down Fish Fund Park, and nearly claimed his “brother’s” life. It was as if the game never stopped. Timmy was gone again, and Windham vilified for not searching. Mark’s resolve to look, to save his brother, died that night as a boy, when he broke himself searching in the night. His soul was lost long ago. If fate had opened the door for Windham to save it, he stood alone, far from being amused. He prayed the first time, but never again. How can you save others when you can’t save yourself? Mark Windham was Lost. He understood that. And on that second fiery night in Sweetwater, he got off his knees, cleaned his old wounds, and started running.
Surprisingly, probably most to Windham himself, Mark’s destination was the light.
What destroyed Mark’s life wasn’t a fire in Sweetwater, or an old-man hell bent on revenge. It was a decision he made when Timmy was lost, to stop. Windham gave up the search.
He ran after the blaze that crippled Fish Fund park, to begin looking anew, for Timmy, and for his Lost Soul.
That’s been Windham’s life in the night. Lives destroyed when he’s rested. But everyman must rest, and when Mark consents, he never wants to wake. Sometimes he thinks it’s the only way he’ll win, to sleep long enough for the search to work itself out. But Mark knows too well now, one who doesn’t walk the path himself, is destined to be off course.
8:45.
He’s trying to sleep tonight. Sunshine’s head tucked under his, her blonde hair hugging his neck, reassuring Mark the trees can’t keep silent forever. Mark slides his right hand over Sunshine’s bareback, lightly digging his nails into her pale skin. He sleeps best when covered by her. Sunshine knows this, he’s sure, but now isn’t the time for secrets between the two. It’s one of many things Troy’s older brother has never told her.
Mark just has to let his nails dig a little longer then he’s certain he’ll sleep. Once more up Sunshine’s back before he stops waiting for disaster to come between them.
She’s saved him. This is how he’ll sleep for the rest of his life, with Sunshine, and with satisfaction that he’s close to having rebuilt his own soul.
Then Windham may look for and save others.
The Lost Soul’s eyes shut and his hand rests for the night on the small of his love’s back. He has to get up early tomorrow, and board a flight he hopes will be the beginning of a new awakening for anyone who cares to listen.
And there are many who must.