Memories all alone in the moonlight

Clara Kate slowly walked down the hall and out into the street. For once she did not have to rush to be somewhere. She had requested the day off and her boss had gladly given her the day all to herself. She glanced back at the door and her mind conjured up that fateful moment so long ago. Those doors were a constant reminder of that moment. A moment when a five year olds world comes crashing down. Those doors, her only anchor in an ever changing world, reminded her of that day in September when her parents left and never came back. She was told that they went to a better place, that they were finally happy. All she knew was that they had abandoned her, they did not want her and she must live with her maiden aunt. Why did her parents leave for this happier, better place without her? They just told her they were leaving for the Opera in the big city nearby. The sense of sheer depression and abandonment still stung Clara Kate and made the hairs on the back of her neck tingle with agitation. Why did she always have to carry that memory around? Yes, it had shaped the rest of her life and molded her into the person she is today, as cheesy as that sounds even to herself. Why could she not remember all those happy moments in her life when she had felt loved and needed? For example, when her uncle had tried to claim Clara Kate and bring her home, just because he wanted to receive a slice of Clara Kate’s supposed fortune and Clara Kate’s maiden aunt rightly put him in his place and took her as her own child. Clara Kate’s aunt became a doting mother. Why could Clara Kate not remember that? Instead, when she had the day off to be happy and find peace she and all she could think about was the doom those ornate doors symbolized for her.

It's All a Matter of Perspective

Clara Kate was just leaving the clinic after a long, hard day of work. Too many patients to see in too little time. And each patient seemed sicker than the one before it. The sun dipped just below the horizon and it was getting dark. As she stepped out onto the still, damp street ,the nippy March air whipped around her, tossing her hair and tugging at her scrubs. Clara Kate decided to go for a walk. Work had been difficult that day and she needed to clear her head. Poking around the old Sawmill always made her feel better. She had so many fond memories of watching the work of the mills; she always fancied that she was its owner and responsible for the beautiful freshly hewn logs. Now, just an old theater, the mill reminded her of better days. The sweet, piney smell of cut wood that still lingered about the mill always reminded her of her father. So lost in thought, Clara Kate scarcely noticed the setting sun. Her wandering had taken her around the far side of the Sawmill where she was alone and away from the eyes of passing drivers. As she ambled about the old mill, Clara Kate heard a rustle. She turned around quickly, running head-long into a bushy haired man with a unkempt mustache. The impact cut her lip and knocked the man’s wallet, which he was carrying in his hand, to the ground. Distracted by the man’s presence, she unconsciously bent over to pick up the wallet, expecting to return it to the stranger. The bending motion released a gush of blood from the gash on her lip. Bleeding everywhere, Clara Kate quickly dropped the wallet and sprinted toward the clinic. She was so shaken by the experience she did not even notice that she ran straight into Emma Gerber. Mumbling a hurried apology, Clara Kate rushed on to the clinic, seeking both sanctuary and medical attention.