1 by Brian Lynch
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landay echo by Brian Lynch 1 landay echo is an original creative work by Brian Lynch, and I do hereby warrant and represent that I am the sole and exclusive author and owner of all right, title, and interest in and to the Idea and/or have obtained prior written authorization or license to submit the Idea from any and all third party rights holders therein. landay echo has not been previously produced, sold, or optioned by or to anyone, at any time, and I warrant and represent that the Idea has never been produced, sold, or optioned by anyone at any time. With a drop of my sweetheart's blood, Shed in defense of the Motherland, Will I put a beauty spot on my forehead, Such as would put to shame the rose in the garden Malalai 2 landay echo is an original creative work by Brian Lynch, and I do hereby warrant and represent that I am the sole and exclusive author and owner of all right, title, and interest in and to the Idea and/or have obtained prior written authorization or license to submit the Idea from any and all third party rights holders therein. landay echo has not been previously produced, sold, or optioned by or to anyone, at any time, and I warrant and represent that the Idea has never been produced, sold, or optioned by anyone at any time. January The day brought a new year on the calendar only, as the promise of opportunity was anchored by circumstance. She leaned against the icy glass, and glared into the open field as the snow and wind danced for hours – like the view, she was silent, gray and appeared lifeless. Only her eyes pulsed. Her head bowed lazily, slumped to the same side her shoulder also rested, modestly protected by her robe. The temperature had no bearing on her upper torso. The nerves were dead, cauterized to insensitivity. Overt clinical brightness filled the warm therapy room. An enormous wall of unobstructed, transparent doors, four meters high, framed the view. Despite this, she saw nothing and felt even less. The Belgian hospital was perched atop a small wooded knoll in Roeselare, with expansive views across the town and of the distant North Sea. It was a small brick facility, more like a cottage, designed to keep its patients secluded and wrapped in serenity. She assumed this position for hours a day, weeks on end, sometimes seeking answers from the landscape, mostly concentrating, pondering, searching. Analyzing her silence only on occasion, she didn’t seem bothered by the uncharacteristic inaction. Emotionally adrift, months passed before she allowed visitors. A man had come to see her several times over the course of nearly two weeks. She was still in a coma. He was not family, so the staff was reluctant to allow him in. Due to his persistent charm and the fact that she had few visitors at all, they acquiesced and allowed him to sit with her. It didn’t hurt his case that he brought coffee for the nurses daily, and that he was “tall, young and adorable” as they said. He came every day for eleven days straight, reading to her, holding her hand and whispering to her gently. He cried several times by her side. The staff knew him only as her colleague from Afghanistan, but he did leave contact data to give to her once she awoke. “Delaram?” a hushed voice questioned. She turned slightly from the window to acknowledge the request. Then she stopped. Without facing her guest, her eyebrows raised without expression. “Delaram, it’s me,” she said. There was whispering behind her, and within a few minutes, her friend had left. The ever-polite attendants immediately left her alone. She hadn’t heard a familiar voice in a long time. Other than searing pain, she hadn’t felt much of anything for some time. But she didn’t smile. Without warning, an unfamiliar, teeming rage enveloped her entirely. Her face grew hot - she closed her eyes and wept quietly, allowing volumes of trapped sadness to escape. Tears cascaded onto her gown for several minutes, soaking the blue neckline. She tightened her right hand and rubbed up and down on the scars. 3 landay echo is an original creative work by Brian Lynch, and I do hereby warrant and represent that I am the sole and exclusive author and owner of all right, title, and interest in and to the Idea and/or have obtained prior written authorization or license to submit the Idea from any and all third party rights holders therein. landay echo has not been previously produced, sold, or optioned by or to anyone, at any time, and I warrant and represent that the Idea has never been produced, sold, or optioned by anyone at any time. When her eyes opened, she felt direction. Walking away from the window, she left her therapy behind. On this New Year's Day, it would be the last time she cried for anything. Javid and Farah sat anxiously in the café, waiting. Just after sunrise, it was early for both to be up, but the occasion was unique and long overdue - they were eager to see their dear friend. The Brussels restaurant was packed with busy weekday commuters and tourists, but they were able to get a corner spot. Crammed against the window, she faced the door, while Javid sat opposite her at the tiny table. The flowerpots were empty, and it was brutally cold, but the white covered square at Grand Place was bustling. Delaram called Farah the day before and asked them to meet her there. As a group, it was their favorite place to eat, study, and relax while attending VUB years earlier. “I hope so,” Farah said, more focused on convincing herself than answering the question. She and Javid were talking about Delaram's disposition. They were both optimistic that this was a turning point, as it had been a week since Farah's failed visit. For months she tried to get in but was never accepted. Tapping her foot nervously, she scanned the square and front door. “We’ll have to see – I’m nervous, too, but it is a good thing that she asked us to get together. And she’s out of rehab!” Farah continued, still scanning. They chatted for a few minutes more, Farah bouncing in her chair while Javid sipped his coffee. She was wringing her scarf. They kept their coats on as they waited, unsure if they would stay long. The sun was cresting the roof above them and lit the opposite side of the square in a slow, sensational, ocherous wave. Dozens of ornate golden fixtures on the aging facades burst into brightness as if they were ablaze. They both observed that the tenth-century beauty of the guildhalls never looked prettier than it did at sunrise. “She’s here! She’s here!” Farah shouted in a whisper, shaking Javid’s arm, causing his cup to buck and spill a sip. She stood and quickly clapped her mittens repeatedly, waiting, beaming like a child. Javid dabbed the cuff of his jacket with a napkin, placed it deliberately on his saucer, adjusted his scarf, and stood as well. Through the crowd, Delaram made her way to the corner table. She wore a full-length, brown wool coat over a tan sweater dress, over the knee boots, her long, dark auburn hair tucked inside the neckline. No purse, no jewelry, no hat or sunglasses, no need – she was captivating without the accessories. She was tall to begin with, even more striking with the boots, which put her at six feet tall. Never one to notice the attention, she walked deliberately to the corner. Heads turned obediently as she passed. “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,” Farah sang as she and Delaram hugged. 4 landay echo is an original creative work by Brian Lynch, and I do hereby warrant and represent that I am the sole and exclusive author and owner of all right, title, and interest in and to the Idea and/or have obtained prior written authorization or license to submit the Idea from any and all third party rights holders therein. landay echo has not been previously produced, sold, or optioned by or to anyone, at any time, and I warrant and represent that the Idea has never been produced, sold, or optioned by anyone at any time. Javid reached from behind Farah and slowly wrapped his arms around both. Delaram smiled once, and the girls hummed. "Oh, sorry," Javid retracted. "Is it OK if I touch the …" “It’s fine. I’m fine,” Delaram injected. “Great to see you both. Do you have a few minutes to talk?” Pleasant but direct, she extracted herself from the embrace prematurely and stepped back. Farah's expression went blank. Javid tugged gently backward on her shoulders to redirect her. “Sure. We’ve got time,” he said. “Let’s sit. Do you want some coffee?” "No. Nothing for me, thanks," Delaram replied, taking Javid's seat without removing her coat. Farah resumed her chair, Javid sat on the outside of the table, looking directly into the square. They could all see each other's eyes and could lean forward for an intimate discussion. “Isn’t this great!” Farah announced excitedly, taking her mittens off to settle in. “Back in the square where it all began! Oh, and the flower carpet is supposed to be a huge week-long event again this year with a band and a…” “How much time do you have?” Delaram asked flatly.