| Second Chance |
Are you still listening ? It's me, Sophia. I must
prepare you for the next story. Will you
believe?
Your scientists believe memories are locked in
the tissues of your body. It's called “muscle
memory.” When an amputee feels the leg that
has been removed, when he wants to scratch
the missing toe, that is “muscle memory.”
Some scientists believe memories of our
ancestors are locked within tissues of our
bodies.
If so, what if we could contact our ancestral
memories? What if our ancestors could
contact us if they needed help?
These were the thoughts behind the idea for
this story. That is how the idea for this story
started, but it is not how this story ends.
I remember how deep it was, how quick it
flowed; Liquid Imagination poured through the
mind of Sue Babcock as she wrote “Second
Chance.”
Drink with me.
prepare you for the next story. Will you
believe?
Your scientists believe memories are locked in
the tissues of your body. It's called “muscle
memory.” When an amputee feels the leg that
has been removed, when he wants to scratch
the missing toe, that is “muscle memory.”
Some scientists believe memories of our
ancestors are locked within tissues of our
bodies.
If so, what if we could contact our ancestral
memories? What if our ancestors could
contact us if they needed help?
These were the thoughts behind the idea for
this story. That is how the idea for this story
started, but it is not how this story ends.
I remember how deep it was, how quick it
flowed; Liquid Imagination poured through the
mind of Sue Babcock as she wrote “Second
Chance.”
Drink with me.
| by Sue Babcock |
Second Chance
by Sue Babcock
Jul 25, 2008
Hannah’s eyes lock onto Hezekiah’s as he
rests her head on his lap. A force she doesn’t
understand emanates from her husband’s
eyes, pulling her towards him. Like gravity, the
force is irresistible, tugging at Hannah,
begging her to stay. But Death seduces her.
“Stay with me, Hannah,” he says, as he grips
her hand.
Hannah feels Hezekiah’s lap under her head
and the warm dampness of her blood seeping
from her chest. She closes her eyes and
cherishes his fingers against her brow and his
moist breath on her face as he leans over her,
his lips whispering. She forces her eyes open
and looks into his eyes a final time and then
looks down. The musket ball is lodged in her
chest. Dark red blood soaks her bodice. Her
hand drifts to her chest, feeling the splintered
bones deep inside her. She again closes her
eyes.
by Sue Babcock
Jul 25, 2008
Hannah’s eyes lock onto Hezekiah’s as he
rests her head on his lap. A force she doesn’t
understand emanates from her husband’s
eyes, pulling her towards him. Like gravity, the
force is irresistible, tugging at Hannah,
begging her to stay. But Death seduces her.
“Stay with me, Hannah,” he says, as he grips
her hand.
Hannah feels Hezekiah’s lap under her head
and the warm dampness of her blood seeping
from her chest. She closes her eyes and
cherishes his fingers against her brow and his
moist breath on her face as he leans over her,
his lips whispering. She forces her eyes open
and looks into his eyes a final time and then
looks down. The musket ball is lodged in her
chest. Dark red blood soaks her bodice. Her
hand drifts to her chest, feeling the splintered
bones deep inside her. She again closes her
eyes.
“Stay with me, Hannah,” he says, pleading
with her.
She sucks in a breath of air and expels. Air
leaks from the hole in her chest. Her lungs
wheeze. She struggles for another breath. She
must stay with him. She tries hard to stay with
him, but numbness washes away the ache in
her chest. Hezekiah’s touch fades. Blackness,
a void; her breathing stops, yet she still feels
him pulling at her soul.
*****
Anna strides down the sidewalk. Her practical
pumps click on the concrete, her briefcase
hangs at her side. She had just bought the
gray, pin-striped suit. The skirt teases her
knees and the jacket enhances her slim figure;
she knows she looks good.
with her.
She sucks in a breath of air and expels. Air
leaks from the hole in her chest. Her lungs
wheeze. She struggles for another breath. She
must stay with him. She tries hard to stay with
him, but numbness washes away the ache in
her chest. Hezekiah’s touch fades. Blackness,
a void; her breathing stops, yet she still feels
him pulling at her soul.
*****
Anna strides down the sidewalk. Her practical
pumps click on the concrete, her briefcase
hangs at her side. She had just bought the
gray, pin-striped suit. The skirt teases her
knees and the jacket enhances her slim figure;
she knows she looks good.
She passes a store front window and glances
at her image. A woman with an old fashion
cap, wearing a blue gown over long white
petticoats glances back at her. Anna gasps
and turns towards the glass; her own suit and
short hair stare back.
“Wow, stress’s really getting to me,” she
says, her voice a low whisper as she walks
away. Her head turns backwards to look at
the window. “Or maybe someone was in
costume inside the store.”
Hours later, Anna leaves the courthouse
where she defended a man she knows is
guilty of murder. Her head down, she
wonders how her hopes of defending the
innocent—the people without a voice—has
come to this. Her life does not feel like her
own anymore. As far back as she can
remember, she has felt a different life, an
unknown force, tugging at her.
at her image. A woman with an old fashion
cap, wearing a blue gown over long white
petticoats glances back at her. Anna gasps
and turns towards the glass; her own suit and
short hair stare back.
“Wow, stress’s really getting to me,” she
says, her voice a low whisper as she walks
away. Her head turns backwards to look at
the window. “Or maybe someone was in
costume inside the store.”
Hours later, Anna leaves the courthouse
where she defended a man she knows is
guilty of murder. Her head down, she
wonders how her hopes of defending the
innocent—the people without a voice—has
come to this. Her life does not feel like her
own anymore. As far back as she can
remember, she has felt a different life, an
unknown force, tugging at her.
She looks up at the dark streets stretching
empty around her, streetlights beaming cones
of hazy light into the misty air. As she reaches
the store front window, she stops, and
remembers the vision from that morning.
Watching the window out of the corner of her
eye, she slowly walks in front of it. A woman in
a billowing blue gown walks across the
window. Anna stops and turns quickly towards
it; the long blue gown and white petticoats
remain. Anna studies the image, places her
briefcase on the ground and takes a step to the
right and a step to the left. The image mirrors
her actions, the petticoats swaying as the
woman in the glass moves back and forth.
Anna walks to the next door store and looks at
her image in a small square of glass. A tired
looking woman in a gray suit faces her. Back at
the other window, the reflection is hers– the
blue gown has vanished.
A deep voice out of the dark startles her.
“Anna,” she thinks it says, “my life be yours
ever after.”
empty around her, streetlights beaming cones
of hazy light into the misty air. As she reaches
the store front window, she stops, and
remembers the vision from that morning.
Watching the window out of the corner of her
eye, she slowly walks in front of it. A woman in
a billowing blue gown walks across the
window. Anna stops and turns quickly towards
it; the long blue gown and white petticoats
remain. Anna studies the image, places her
briefcase on the ground and takes a step to the
right and a step to the left. The image mirrors
her actions, the petticoats swaying as the
woman in the glass moves back and forth.
Anna walks to the next door store and looks at
her image in a small square of glass. A tired
looking woman in a gray suit faces her. Back at
the other window, the reflection is hers– the
blue gown has vanished.
A deep voice out of the dark startles her.
“Anna,” she thinks it says, “my life be yours
ever after.”
Anna looks around. Stillness vibrates. She
squints to peer up and down the street:
empty. She grabs her briefcase and turns to
dash to her apartment when she catches
sight of the image in the window again. This
time a man stands behind the woman in the
white cap and blue gown. His hands rest on
her shoulders. The man is a head taller and
wears a wide brimmed hat. He is clothed in a
heavy tan jacket extending almost to his
knees, snug pants reaching his calves and
thick white stockings encasing his legs. Dark
blue eyes stare at her. Anna’s heart pounds
in her chest. Her palms sweat. Without
thinking, Anna says in a hushed voice,
“Hezekiah.”
squints to peer up and down the street:
empty. She grabs her briefcase and turns to
dash to her apartment when she catches
sight of the image in the window again. This
time a man stands behind the woman in the
white cap and blue gown. His hands rest on
her shoulders. The man is a head taller and
wears a wide brimmed hat. He is clothed in a
heavy tan jacket extending almost to his
knees, snug pants reaching his calves and
thick white stockings encasing his legs. Dark
blue eyes stare at her. Anna’s heart pounds
in her chest. Her palms sweat. Without
thinking, Anna says in a hushed voice,
“Hezekiah.”
Strange forces pull at her, and she reaches out to the window and the image of his face. The
window dissolves. Ripples spread out from her touch. Anna snatches her hand back and the
images and ripples disappear. She again sees herself.
Without a glance backward, Anna rushes to her apartment. Her hands tremble and she drops
her keys as she tries to unlock the door. She leans her head against the door and takes a
deep breath, picks up the keys, and tries again. Before she shuts the door behind her, she
looks again up and down the street. Only mist and darkness surround her.
The next morning Anna avoids the shop window. The night had been restless. She had said
the name “Hezekiah” over and over. During brief periods of sleep, she had dreamed of the
woman in the blue gown. The woman bent over cot after cot. At each cot she removed bloody
bandages, tossed them in a pile on the floor, and dressed horrible wounds, missing limbs,
wounds blackened and gangrened, with fresh strips of cloth.
The dreams all ended the same. A bullet – or maybe it was a musket ball, Anna couldn’t tell –
advanced towards her chest one inch at a time. Just before it reached her chest, she jerked
awake with a terrible ache deep inside her, a terrible and nostalgic yearning, her heart
pounding.
That evening, exhausted, Anna walks the direct route home. She had promised herself she
would not glance at the window. Just as she passes it, a car motor roars to life in a driveway in
front of her. As it races towards her, she recognizes the blue and black du-rag colors, colors of
a man she had defended and lost. The man’s brother sat in the back seat. He flicked the gang
sign she saw him and his brother using at the trial.
She jumps backwards and catches a glimpse of an image in the window. This time, it is the
man staring at her. Her heart feels like it stops and she again reaches towards the window,
unable to stop herself, the unexplained force stronger than before.
The man stretches his hand toward her. With her fingers inches from the window, she
hesitates. The man beckons. She shakes her head. He bows, turns and walks away. Tears
drip down Anna’s face. She extends her hand and touches the image of his retreating back.
Anna gasps; a muddy road appears before her. The hem of her long blue gown trails in a
puddle. She turns and finds an old fashion store window facing her. A woman in a gray pin-
striped suit stares back. Anna recognizes herself. She turns and sees Hezekiah striding away
from her. She glances back at her future self. She remembers both lives. She remembers the
arrogant man waiting on death row for her defense. She remembers the musket ball and the
shattered bone. She remembers the field hospitals and the men that need her.
She looks down. Blood oozes from a hole in her chest. She lifts a hand to her chest and feels
splintered bones and an unrelenting ache and nausea. She knows this is her future if she
remains in the past. She turns again and looks at Hezekiah.
“You be coming?” he says from far away. “You be okay?”
Anna shakes her head. How can she leave him again, but how can she stay, knowing what
she knows, that a musket ball will rip through her body, that she’ll lose Hezekiah all over again.
She turns and reaches one hand towards the window as she holds the other hand over her
wound.
As she looks in the window, a car roars behind her future self. The blue and black du-rags
flash past her. Streetlights reflect the hard glimmer of metal. She knows this brother of her
client has sentenced her to death. The sounds of shots boom across centuries. Anna sees a
bullet inch towards the image. She can’t turn away as the bullet strikes her future self in the
chest and slams her into the concrete. The woman in the window glances down. Blood gushes
from the hole, soaking into the gray suit. The future Anna closes her eyes and seems to
embrace the wound. Anna’s own eyes ache as tears run down her face.
No one comforts the future self. No man holds her hand or strokes her head as she takes a
final breath. The store window turns to mist.
Anna looks down at her own chest. The bodice of the blue gown covers her chest, whole and
unmarred by blood or bones.
“I’ll be fine. Wait for me,” Hannah says to Hezekiah.
She smiles as she runs up the road, pulled by the forces she cannot understand.
A man looks up from his computer at the sound of gun fire. A woman in a pin-striped suit lies in
a puddle of blood on the concrete in front of his store. He rushes outside.
“Who is she?” someone says.
“Call 911!”
“Why is she smiling?”
window dissolves. Ripples spread out from her touch. Anna snatches her hand back and the
images and ripples disappear. She again sees herself.
Without a glance backward, Anna rushes to her apartment. Her hands tremble and she drops
her keys as she tries to unlock the door. She leans her head against the door and takes a
deep breath, picks up the keys, and tries again. Before she shuts the door behind her, she
looks again up and down the street. Only mist and darkness surround her.
The next morning Anna avoids the shop window. The night had been restless. She had said
the name “Hezekiah” over and over. During brief periods of sleep, she had dreamed of the
woman in the blue gown. The woman bent over cot after cot. At each cot she removed bloody
bandages, tossed them in a pile on the floor, and dressed horrible wounds, missing limbs,
wounds blackened and gangrened, with fresh strips of cloth.
The dreams all ended the same. A bullet – or maybe it was a musket ball, Anna couldn’t tell –
advanced towards her chest one inch at a time. Just before it reached her chest, she jerked
awake with a terrible ache deep inside her, a terrible and nostalgic yearning, her heart
pounding.
That evening, exhausted, Anna walks the direct route home. She had promised herself she
would not glance at the window. Just as she passes it, a car motor roars to life in a driveway in
front of her. As it races towards her, she recognizes the blue and black du-rag colors, colors of
a man she had defended and lost. The man’s brother sat in the back seat. He flicked the gang
sign she saw him and his brother using at the trial.
She jumps backwards and catches a glimpse of an image in the window. This time, it is the
man staring at her. Her heart feels like it stops and she again reaches towards the window,
unable to stop herself, the unexplained force stronger than before.
The man stretches his hand toward her. With her fingers inches from the window, she
hesitates. The man beckons. She shakes her head. He bows, turns and walks away. Tears
drip down Anna’s face. She extends her hand and touches the image of his retreating back.
Anna gasps; a muddy road appears before her. The hem of her long blue gown trails in a
puddle. She turns and finds an old fashion store window facing her. A woman in a gray pin-
striped suit stares back. Anna recognizes herself. She turns and sees Hezekiah striding away
from her. She glances back at her future self. She remembers both lives. She remembers the
arrogant man waiting on death row for her defense. She remembers the musket ball and the
shattered bone. She remembers the field hospitals and the men that need her.
She looks down. Blood oozes from a hole in her chest. She lifts a hand to her chest and feels
splintered bones and an unrelenting ache and nausea. She knows this is her future if she
remains in the past. She turns again and looks at Hezekiah.
“You be coming?” he says from far away. “You be okay?”
Anna shakes her head. How can she leave him again, but how can she stay, knowing what
she knows, that a musket ball will rip through her body, that she’ll lose Hezekiah all over again.
She turns and reaches one hand towards the window as she holds the other hand over her
wound.
As she looks in the window, a car roars behind her future self. The blue and black du-rags
flash past her. Streetlights reflect the hard glimmer of metal. She knows this brother of her
client has sentenced her to death. The sounds of shots boom across centuries. Anna sees a
bullet inch towards the image. She can’t turn away as the bullet strikes her future self in the
chest and slams her into the concrete. The woman in the window glances down. Blood gushes
from the hole, soaking into the gray suit. The future Anna closes her eyes and seems to
embrace the wound. Anna’s own eyes ache as tears run down her face.
No one comforts the future self. No man holds her hand or strokes her head as she takes a
final breath. The store window turns to mist.
Anna looks down at her own chest. The bodice of the blue gown covers her chest, whole and
unmarred by blood or bones.
“I’ll be fine. Wait for me,” Hannah says to Hezekiah.
She smiles as she runs up the road, pulled by the forces she cannot understand.
A man looks up from his computer at the sound of gun fire. A woman in a pin-striped suit lies in
a puddle of blood on the concrete in front of his store. He rushes outside.
“Who is she?” someone says.
“Call 911!”
“Why is she smiling?”
