Caty's Creek: Chapter Three: Memories from Long Ago

Okay, for those who haven't made it to FictionPress or heard about my story, Caty's Creek, you might want to head on over there and read the first two chapters before you read this. This is chapter three of the story, as so obviously stated in this post's title. So, let me continue on with the story..





Caty's Creek


Chapter Three: Memories from Long Ago


Elyse's POV





I sat there wondering how it all could have happened. Was it really ten years ago? A full decade? It seemed like only yesterday I sat at her memorial service, sandwhiched between Mom and Dad, the horrible flashbacks going through my mind. We had the ceremony at the base of the creek; the treacherous waters that claimed my sister was the loudest guest. It was stormy, a perfect cliche for a memorial service of a little girl's death, a horrible tragic death that there was nothing anyone could have done.


But me.


I always thought that if we hadn't gone out to the creek, hadn't scaled the mountain behind our house, hadn't played in the creek...she'd be here. She'd be fifteen now, chatting wildly with me about the hottest boy in school, or how she wanted to go to the winter formal later on this year. She wouldn't have been claimed by the creek if I had sucked up my pride and let her beat me in CandyLand. It was her favorite game, and we would have played for hours. She would continually beat me, and before long, we'd have dinner, watching out the kitchen window at the pouring rain. Later that night, instead of being at the bottom of every fall, being embeded into the banks of the creek, she'd be in my bed, with her little teddy bear and blanket, listening to me tell her what the thunder was. It wasn't just loud noise, I'd tell her, it was God, playing bowling with little Jesus. She'd learn that night the rain was just God's gardener's watering the Earth, God's little garden. The lightning was just the flash of a camera as people took pictures of Jesus. I'd tell her not be scared at all about the thunderstorm, and she'd fall asleep in my bed. We'd wake up and eat pancakes, we'd bake cakes on our birthdays. We'd continue our childhood. I'd still have a little sister, I wouldn't be an only child.



Everyone acted different from then on. Caty's birthday wasn't a joyous occasion each year, as it should have been. It was mournful, sad, a time of grieving. My friends acted different, they'd start complaining about their younger brother or sister, say they wished they were an only child, and then they'd just stop. They'd exchange nervous glances, and mutter apologizies. Nothing was ever the same without Caty. It was like she was the Sun that lit up my world, she was everything important to me then. I hated that I had drug her out to the mountain with me, "It's a beautiful day," I had said. "Let's go play in the creek, Caty. It's your creek, remember?"



The creek was always Caty's. Always had been, always will be. I remember watching the preacher tell how Caty was a happy child, gleeful. She brought joy to everyone around her. And it was true. But now, in those days after her death, everytime her name was mentioned, my mom would flee the room. That's where Momma was during the funeral, she was in the house, watching from the window. She couldn't bear it. She just couldn't. I don't blame her. Not even to this day.



The rain picked up and I had to adbandon my spot by the tree. I returned to the house and picked up my cell phone. I turned to the cabinet and rummaged through as the phone rang, calling Joel back. I found my treasure, a packet of cake mix and icing, as he picked up. "Come back. I'm making cake."


AN: as said above, this is a continuation from the story Caty's Creek posted on fictionpress. More of the story will be seen there and maybe the occasional update on here.
xo
Kayy