Found & Lost
By: Jason Mcbride
Tags: Poetry, Ghosts, Grief, Fiction, Writing

Lost in thought, I wandered through the meadow

Overwhelmed by guilt and wracked by remorse-

Time and distance blended into nothing

She pulled the trigger, but it was my gun

The sun burst free from its gray entombment

Its rays reflected off some strange object

The piercing light yanked me from my stupor

My feet stopped moving and I stared at it

Compelled, I stutter-stepped towards the object

Embedded in the ground was an egg shell

Glancing around, I first noticed the woods

The thick, tall trees stood just a yard away

My grief had blinded me to their presence

The image of my child’s destroyed face

Began once again to consume my soul

The reflected light pulled me back again

I stooped down to examine the egg shell

My fingers began to excavate it

The thick clay fought to retain its treasure

Grudgingly the Earth began to recede

The object was no egg, it was too big

Excited, I clawed around the puzzle

Once the edges were discovered, I knew

I was working to free a human skull

I slammed my fists on the ground and howled

My heart shattered over the thought of her

The gun had been purchased for my escape

She had found it after I lost my nerve

I resolved to go back and finish it

Movement flickered on the edge of the woods

A strange gossamer shape danced like a kite

My fingers brushed the cool, egg-shell white skull

That instant, the shape brightened and sharpened

I removed my hand and the shape faded

Alarmed, I again touched the buried skull

The shape flared and dance — and I understood

I dug my fingers into the red clay

Inch by inch I began to free her skull

Every few minutes I glanced at the woods

Each time her form was more defined and bright

Once I uncovered the skull’s eyes I looked

My daughter smiled at me from the woods

“Can we talk to each other now?” I asked

She shook her head and pointed to the skull

I nodded and returned to the battle

Clay clung to my hands and covered my clothes

The skull remained spotless, unsoiled

What magic connected spirit and bone?

Flashes of my dead daughter’s body came

I chased them with glances of her spirit

In the woods she was perfect and intact

Unlike the corpse oozing gore I had left

As the work progressed, she became present

Less apparition and more corporeal

Was my work some kind of resurrection?

I couldn’t get any answers from her

Her gaze never left me or the white skull

Her response to every question the same,

She would tip her head to her left shoulder,

She would smile and then point to the skull

I longed to hear her sweet voice and hold her

I knew once the skull was free she would change

My knuckles were swollen, my hands gnarled

But nothing could stop me from freeing her

Only the lower jaw remained buried

Twilight was being enveloped by night

I growled and threw myself at the work

The horizon strangled the suns last rays

The skull was fully exposed. Exultant,

I palmed the skull, stood up, and looked at her

Her entire figure pulsed with furor

Like a time lapse film, her head and face changed

First her smile vanished, then her features —

Caved in on themselves and a hole appeared

Allowing me to see through her small head

Just like the moment when the gun went off

Fear and disgust stole my voice and my will

I stood like an ancient oak in the clay

She raised a finger and pointed at me

No — not at me — she pointed to the skull

Finding volition, I dropped the white skull

It hung in the air, beyond gravity

She turned her palm over and beckoned it

The skull sailed to her waiting, upturned hand

Eternity inside of a moment

There was nothing. No motion. No feeling.

My dead, deformed daughter began to pulse

Millions of pinpricks of starlight speared her

A fury erupted from everywhere

The sounds and the lights were too much for me

But, I remained cemented to the spot

The Devil’s transfiguration began

The being in front of me gained a face

She grew to the height of a tall woman

This was no spirit. She was real like me

Silence and darkness made the night thicker

The woman smiled as she palmed the skull

Her smile was not my daughter’s smile

She threw her head back in a cruel laugh

With blinding speed she threw the skull at me

It landed at my feet back in the clay

I swallowed hard as the Earth reclaimed it

As the clay advanced my form diminished

The woman cackled and walked from the woods

I was transported to her former spot

The top of the skull could barely be seen

My crumpled body rested next to it

She examined my corpse and turned around

“I have waited at the edge of the woods

For sixty-five years until someone came

Someone who had committed a greater

Atrocity than the one I had done”

Her accent and voice were strange to my ears

I tied to speak to her but had no voice

Searching her eyes for meaning, I pointed

She glanced down at the strange white, egg shell shape

“The skull is a talisman. It’s your key

You will be restored to yourself once one

Who has done worse than you digs up the skull.

Until then you will haunt the woods unheard.”

The woman strolled away across the field

Hikers found my body two days later

I explored the limits of my prison

I try to avoid the edge near the skull

There is no anger or sorrow in me

True divine justice has been carried out

My prayer is I will never be restored

Living is suffering. This is better.