Narzack

            Tom shut the door lightly behind him.  The moonlight cast a soft blue glow through the open window, illuminating the room enough for him to see.  He padded softly to his bed, briefly observing the thick steel plates that would slide in front of the window, blocking the fatal sunlight.  But, for now, he let the window remain open.  A myriad smells wafted into the room, all of them distinctly Orlando. 

            Tom sat on the edge of his bed, reaching over to the nightstand and pulling out the top drawer.  He pulled out a few books, cds, envelopes; and withdrew a small brown notebook, tattered and worn.

            He gently unwrapped the cord binding it shut and open the book, thumbing through the creased pages, searching.  Momentarily, he found the entry he was seeking.

Monday, June 05

This is it.  I’ve found someone who knows where I can find Nona.

Her name is Jacqueline, and I’m meeting her tonight.  I’m so nervous and excited, that I can barely write this.  It’s just so overwhelming, I can’t eat, and I can’t sleep.  This nightmare is almost at an end.  It’s been nearly a year of people-even the family- telling me that she’s dead, to let it go, that I’m tearing them apart.  But, I know she’s not dead.  God, I know how stupid it sounds, but I would know if she was gone.  I would feel a part of my soul gone.  If she was dead, I would be dead, too, because I can’t live in a world without her. 

            Tom closed the book, shaking his head.  “No more. . .I can’t.”  He bowed his head, fists clenching, whispering, “Please, I don’t want to go on.  It’s too hard.”  His body trembled, and he tilted his head, as if listening.

            He reopened the book, and, shuddering, read on.

I can’t imagine a world without her light, her joy.

What a hell that must be.  I don’t know how Mom and Dad can endure it, if they truly believe she’s dead. 

It doesn’t matter.  I know she’s alive, and I’m going to find her.  I don’t care what it takes.  I will walk down into Hell and carry her out if I have to. 

These last few weeks have been especially hard.  I’m out of money and out of friends.  In fact I’m writing this under a bridge, in the damn rain.  Luckily, no bums are about to kick me out of their home.  Little joke, there. 

Beyond all that, though, I’m lonely.  I’ve never been away from her for this long.  Even when we were at summer camp, I’d sneak over to the girl’s camp to see her.  Of course, I got caught plenty of times and caught merry hell for it.  It was worth it, though, sneaking through the woods, nearly terrified out of my mind from all the ghost stories the counselors told about that forest, but forging on because I knew that she was waiting for me.

I guess this is much the same.   I’m scared and hungry and tired and alone, but it’s okay, because I know at the end of this, Nona will be there. 

I’m so close to the end, here.  I can almost hear Nona; I can almost hear her singing to me, calling me to her. 

This time, I get to save her.  Nona, my twin, hang on.  I’m coming.

            Tom softly closed the book.  And wept.