Memories

I miss it. All of it. You would miss it too, if you were taken away from everything you love and ever did love. The things I saw there, the feelings I held, the things I experienced I'll never forget. But I can't go back, I can't go forward, I can't go anywhere.
I used to sit on the window ledge; watch the sun as it made It's decent into the unknown. I thought about how someday I would escape this wretched little town and travel the world. I wanted so many things. Things I could never have. I wanted to feel the waves caress my feet. I wanted to hear the trees whisper delicate harmonies to the song of the wind. I wanted to be free.
Sometimes, if I was allowed I would sit on the hill beside the house under the apple tree, watching. I would watch the people in the market below go about their daily business: trading goats and cattle for loaves of bread and clothes. They were happy. At least it seemed like it, but they weren't. I was always able to see past the happy, smiling faces. I could see they all wanted the same thing: a life on the outside. They didn't want this. None of us did.
To the untrained eye the village was normal: little wooden cottages coated in roses and tulips. But those who lived elsewhere didn't see. They were too blinded by what they thought was beauty to see that what little of it that was left, was dying. I didn't know much about the history of the village but I didn't need to, to know not much had changed. The cobbled pathways, like a spider's wed connecting the streets, were cracked and littered with pot holes. Crows sang their ominous tunes as winter stole life from the party of trees in the orchard. Beauty was scared to come near the village; if it did, it would die. The village was a prison. The convicts too scared to escape. But not me. I was different. I always had been. You may think I was crazy to leave it all behind, a loving family, a warm house, fresh food. But you don't understand.
The lake. It was in the heart of the forest. Most people were afraid to step foot in the forest as many rumors had been passed down from generation to generation, striking fear into the hearts of every living thing in the village. Every one said I was a fool to go trampling over the fence that separated it from civilization but I took no notice. I went out there as often as I could. I would run down the hill, sneak past the market, traipse across the road and jump over the fence. It was so calm there, so peaceful. It was the only place in the village where I felt truly free. Like I could do anything.
I would roam through the forest collecting feelings I thought I had lost: happiness, satisfaction, love. I would look at the nature around me with a burning passion in my eyes, and in my soul. I would let the darkness comfort me as the wind bounced around my shaking figure. I could see the lights from the village shining, illuminating the ebony back-ground. But now the flowers have shriveled. The wind and darkness are never ending. The passion is gone.
I miss it. All of it. You would miss it too if you were taken away from everything you love and ever did love. The sights I saw there, the feelings I held, the things I experienced I'll never forget. But I can't go back, I can't go forward, I can't go anywhere. Why? You may ask...
Because I'm dead.