Amy Nye Biography

The sky is gray. I watch blindly as the wood coffin is lowered into the ground. Black umbrellas are like mushrooms crying as the wet rain drips off and finds its place alone on the ground. My tears stream off my face and join the raindrops on the barren cement.

A sallow faced man with a pointed nose and graying hair reads out of a black book in words that sound like garbled nonsense. The stone is engraved with well-deserved words.
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“Today is the day.” I whisper the words of finality into your ear, savoring every word as it comes out of my raspy throat. I slip my frigid, stiff hand into yours as my voice echoes from the lonely white halls, as I stare up at the rafters where the angels sit idly and play their harps. Music that no living being should hear. But I do. Their angelic choir makes my soul ache with the longing for a forgotten memory. The fluorescent lights shine their best. Attempting to make this godforsaken place seem brighter than the rest of the world. It fails. The shadows cast their reflection across the long hall. Their ethereal beauty does not belong to this world, yet here they are. Out of place in this unyielding plateau of misery called home. The irony does not escape me. That something of such beauty should be condemned to lay here alone and unwanted. It torments me to the deepest fiber of my being. But for no longer.

“Today is the day” I echo my thoughts around my head. They chase each other until I feel sanity slipping away like grains of sand. But they never stop. You and I hold hands as we skip down the lonely white halls that no sane being would walk upon. The floor is oddly padded. I convince myself that we sit upon corpses of people who couldn’t find their way back. This is not home. I don’t understand why I’m here. Wilted flowers and past memories lay on the white counters. White everything. White counters. White paper with engraved words that shelter years of pain and struggles. But they’re gone now. My shrill laughter is carried away down the broken hall. Your charcoal black eyes reflect nothing but me.
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Garbled speech through the telephone. Words I never thought I’d hear.

“We need to talk.” Four words. Twelve little letters. A world of hurt behind the feigned mask of vacant politeness. My reply was perfectly modulated. A balance between casualness and calmness. Neither of which I felt.

“Okay. What time works for you? ”
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I made a mistake. I trusted. You lied. I forgave, but didn't forget. I never did. The leaves fly away to unknown lands. Brown and grey and dead. Everything. It's all gone and so are you. But I don't care. And neither do you. I know that all too well by now. You drew me in further and farther until i couldn't touch the bottom anymore. I trusted. You betrayed. I don't care. That was a lie. The wind turns cold and surrounds me in a nimbus of icy despair.
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