My Words Remain

Thwap!

The arrow flew past her face, narrowly missing her cheek before it embedded itself in the tree a few feet behind. Lilliana whipped around and dove for cover as another arrow landed on the ground sinking into the dirt her foot had just vacated.

Breathing hard, Lilliana pressed her back against a tree and grinned to herself, she could never have moved that fast before. Robin was just a few feet away but she couldn’t see where Little John had gotten to. She pulled her own bow taut and let a few arrows fly in the direction of the Sheriff's men before crouching down again.

“Good shot Lil!” Robin’s voice rang out as she heard a body hit the ground.

Seven more left.

Now three.

The remaining men threw their weapons down and ran for town like the true cowards they were!

Before long, their attackers were on the run and Robin’s band was emerging from the surrounding forest to congratulate her. Breathing hard and caked in mud, they clapped each other on the back and shook hands all round.

“Well done lads,” Robin’s mischievous grin was infectious as he clapped Lil on the shoulder, “and lass! It looks like we live to fight another day!”

“Here, here!” Cried the return.

Suddenly and without warning, the world seemed to crackle for a moment. The trees - so real so solid - shimmered and dimmed out of focus. Everything seemed to dull for a moment, the colors became less vibrant and the sounds seemed to grow quiet. Where seconds before, Lilliana could smell the crisp autumn leaves on the ground and the sweat and mud all mingled together, now the sweet smell of baking bread wafted through the air. She turned her head in the direction of the sun knowing exactly what was about to happen seconds before it did.

The bright yellow light of the sun grew and spread, enveloping everything around it in a blinding flash. Lilliana’s head spun with the dizzying light and the smell of baked goods grew stronger by the minute. She felt her feet part ways with the ground and for a brief second she was floating in the golden light.

“Bonjour, ma chérie! Du pain pour toi?”

The lilting voice was the first thing to break through the light, until she felt her feet gently return to the ground and her vision slowly returned to normal.The rolly polly baker smiled at her from behind his counter as he held out a warm loaf of bread to her. Trying to pick up where the story had gone next, Lilliana smiled and nodded. Her French was less than desirable, but she understood that much at least.

Exchanging the bread for the coins she found in her pocket, she turned to go from the shop, bracing herself for what came next.

Angry French cries echoed from the street as the tumbrel made its way through the crowd. Lilliana was grateful for her tenuous grasp on the language as it afforded her the luxury of ignorance. The condemned clutched at the sides of the cart in an effort to keep themselves steady. Others had given up and lay motionless on its floor. The poor souls had accepted their fate and like lambs led to the slaughter, awaited their turn at the guillotine.

Lilliana swallowed hard and exited the baker’s shop.

This was a terrible idea, death is the last thing I want to focus on. Only a few more moments and it would be over. Rounding the corner to avoid the smell and sound of the anger behind, Lilliana looked up at the sun waiting. Her heart skipped a beat when nothing happened, but then the light began to grow and dissolve everything in its path.

The raucous sound of jazz filled her ears next. The gentle brush of a flapper’s dress swished across her knees as her shoes slowly returned to the floor.

“Woo hoo!!!”

The cries of the young dancers around her were rivaled only by the blast of the trumpets from the stage. The press and pull was infectious and Lilliana let it envelop her.

She always liked to end her night with something fun, something she never would be able to do anywhere else.

An elbow bashed into her jaw as the gent next to her threw his hands up.

“Sorry doll!” He turned with a grin, “Need a drink?” He motioned to the bar, “The password’s different than the one at the door,” he slurred. “Its -”

“Don’t worry I know!” Lilliana grinned, I wrote it, she thought.

She slipped her way through the crowd - one of her specialties - and reached the bar on the edge of the room. As she reached to find her cash she realized she couldn’t remember what came next.

The bartender grinned, about to ask for her drink when -

Beeeeep, beeeeep, beeeeep, beep, beep, beep!

Ugh, not already. Lilliana thought to herself as she rolled over and slapped the ‘OFF’ button on her phone’s alarm. She closed her eyes, her head still spinning. Time is a strange concept, and lately she just did not seem to have enough of it.

Ok, three time periods and story lines in one night is way too much for my brain to handle.

Flinging the covers off of her, she rolled out of bed and stretched. Even though it was only her mind that traveled at night, it always left her muscles feeling stiff and sore; and more often than not she felt more tired waking than before sleeping. She reached down and touched her toes, hearing her spine crack as she did. She stared down and her hairless arms, once covered in light blond hairs.

It was only because she was bent in two that she saw it laying there on the floor, half peeking out from under the bed.

The little black book.

Lilliana smiled to herself as she reached over to pick it up. It must have fallen out of her hand last night when she fell asleep.

No wonder it ended abruptly. Maybe tomorrow night I’ll try something different...

Flipping to the page labeled ‘43rd Trip’ at the top, Lilliana read the last sentence in the middle of the page: “Lilliana slid her way through the crowd, making her way to the bar. The bartender smiled at her as she reached for her mon-” followed by an incredibly long pen scribble that trailed down the remainder of the page.

No matter how much she wrote during the day, it always stopped being fiction the second she fell asleep.

She closed the book carefully, its worn black spine sighing with age as the front cover slowly rejoined the first page. A small piece of paper could be seen just barely peeking out of the back cover. Gently, Lilliana tugged at the corner, until the rectangular piece of paper was in her hand. The check was as fresh and new as the book was old and worn. The solid black ink still clearly showed the amount: $20,000.

Every so often Lilliana liked to pull the check out and look at it carefully. It never changed in amount or shape, nor did the inscription on the inside back cover of the book.

“In freedom you’ll dream, in waking you’ll fight. With money comes greed, but with generosity comes light.”

It had always been clear to her since finding the book and discovering its secrets, the money did not belong to her. It would not have done her much good anyway. They would find it eventually, along with the book, when she was gone. When she was no more, they would be able to see the gift she had left behind. In doing so, maybe she could leave behind something good, something to help others avoid the pain she knew every day.

The money would quickly run out, but the words, her words would remain.

Now that the experiments were complete, it was time to write the true story, the story that the world needed to hear. She would have to live through it, and it would not be easy, but doing the right thing rarely was.

Lilliana placed the book on her nightstand, accidentally knocking over the bottles of ibuprofen, anti nausea medication, steroids. The medications did their best, but the only escape came every night when her pen strokes came to life. Each day she pushed further so that she could write more before her body shut itself off. The down side was, the more she wrote, the fewer pages she had.

Soon it would run out and she would have nothing left.

Nothing left but to wait for the tumor to win, and for Lilliana to finally sleep in peace.