ALL IN THE HEAD 1

FATHER

My life used to be pretty simple, as a country kid with country kid dreams and expectations I did not want for much. Life for some time to come, I had hoped, wouldn't be more complicated than milking cows and helping dad in the field and I was happy with that, until the day dad died that is.

The tractor had been playing up for months. Dad decided he'd let it go because there was always something else that needed doing on the farm. Some bill had to get squared away. Some other task needed to be done. Dad should have seen to it earlier, though it probably wouldn't have mattered much if he had. Looking back, I wish he had at least done something but now that's neither here nor there.

The tractor died on him in the middle of the field. He climbed down to take a look. His face in the hot sun was red and frustration etched in every groove. I sat on the fence about two hundred meters away. I called out asking if he wanted a hand, he waved me off, indicating to me that I should stay right where I was.

Dad flipped the cover and steam blew high into the air. A thought flashed through my head 'Good one dad, your face could have been steamed off'. The tractor hummed to life again and dad climbed back up into the seat smiling an assuring smile. And then it blew up. Dad was thrown clear of the tractor but not before I saw his arm go in one direction and a foot go in another.

'Dad ...' I screamed leaping from the fence.

It was too late. He was gone. Burnt on one side of his face, gone was his right arm and left foot. Bloody was his body. Whatever happened next was a blur. My movements slowed, my eyes red with a constant fill of tears, I lived in a daze which lasted for days.

People spoke comforting to me things for days, weeks even but I don't remember much of the spoken words or even by who they were spoken. Who pays attention to those sorts of things when grieving? I'd seen my dad blown to shreds and hell, you want me to say 'thank you for your kind well-meaning words?'

Holy hell, such a place is exactly where I was both physically and mentally. My dad was blown to bits. I will grieve until I'm good and ready not too and I had no idea if such a time would ever come.

The wake, when it happened, was pretty large. Farming communities, well ours anyhow, always come together for four things, weddings, funerals, socials, and church. I just couldn't bear being around any of these people and more than anything I needed ... space.

Finding home claustrophobic, I left the house and walked. Soon I stood at the fence line, not far from where I sat that day. Standing at the fence line I couldn't contain my tears. My memory played over and over ... dad's face with the sun's heat beating down upon him, his waving me still and then his dying.

'Hell of a thing' spoke a gruff old voice.

I almost jumped out of my skin, my head whipped round, and my eyes landing on a grizzly face of an old man. I cursed this moment, couldn't help it, this man scared the be-jaysus out of me.

'Young ladies ought not to swear, your dad wouldn't like it' he continued to speak.

'Who the hell are you?' I snapped.

'I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate the attitude either.'

'I don't give a crap what you think my dad would like or appreciate. He's dead or didn't you notice the friggen coffin in the living room' I yelled back, I didn't mean to react like this, it all just got the better of me I guess, maybe instinct was guiding me to react in the manner I did.

'You'll mind your manners young lady and respect your dad, he ain't gone ya know' the old man flipped back.

At the time I didn't care who the hell this old git thought he was. He had no right to be here telling me about my dad not being gone when I saw him die. Spinning on my heels, I ran to the barn to get away from the old fool. Looking back upon all this it is clear I really wasn't my usual self.

Rounding the corner, opening a barn door with an almighty pull I stepped into a bright light. My eyes blinded at first. In the barn, in the middle of the barn, there stood dad.

'I don't like you swearing baby-doll' he said.

Shocked, I blinked and dad was gone. My eyes fully adjusted to the sunlight shining through an opening as I searched the length and breadth of the barn. My mind was tripping. I'm in grief, shock. That had to be it.

'Dad ... dad ...' I called out without receiving reply.

I turned and the old man stood behind me.

'It's alright girl, we got him. He's safe, but he's worried about you' he spoke with a softness I might have found comforting if I weren't so confused.

'Who are you?' I simply asked, my tone changing with how I was feeling.

The old man smiled a toothless grin. His figure wavered like heat you see coming off a hot pavement and then he was gone. I stood crying for what seemed like ages. Dad wasn't in the barn. I couldn't feel or sense his presence, if he had been present at all. The old man indeed had gone too, and I was alone.

Weeks had past and the old man appeared and disappeared as randomly as he did that first day, telling me that I had to let my father go. He often came whenever I thought of dad. Again, at the fence my mind replayed that day and once more the old man was there.

'Why won't you tell me who you are and why you're here?' I inquired without even looking at him.

'Don't need to little Miss, it doesn't matter who I am ... however it matters what I say.'

The old man's gibberish was becoming less annoying over time, but not by much. Something most definitely was off. I'd gotten used to him giving me half answers or no answer at all, this odd kind of run around was becoming familiar. On this particular occasion, I turned to leave the fence but found I couldn't. He had one more thing to say and his determination to say it held me long enough to hear it.

'Let him go' he said and once again the old man vanished.

The visits kept coming and he kept telling me to let dad go, the more he did this the more I seemed determined to hold on to my father. A night soon came when I finally understood, or at least to a degree. Having not slept much like many nights since my dad's death, I imagined I would not get much rest before morning, but I did. My body couldn't take it and I was out cold before long.

He came to me; dad came to me in my dreaming.

'You need to let me go baby-girl' he said, his face full worry and also, fear.

'Daddy, I miss you so much.'

'I know and I miss you too but ... you need to let me go baby-girl' he had repeated those words, more firmly this time.

'I can't dad, I won't' I said with angry tears welling.

A morphing occurred; the old man took my father's place. He, the old man, was grey, his eyes were black, harsh, and dark, his features twisted and menacing.

'Let him go' he ordered with evil intent so clear and thick I nearly choked.

I woke in a sweat. I heard my dad's voice whisper. 'You need to let me go baby-girl.'

Getting out of bed, no longer able to sleep I padded down the stairs to get a drink of water while having no idea of what to make of what was happening to me. The television had been left on again and mum was snoring in front of it. Standing at the base of the steps I saw the old man standing over her. He was grey, dark, just like in the dream.

'Let him go or I'll take her too' he threatened.

Behind him my father's ghost stood terrified, screaming soundless words to me, but I knew what he said.

'Let me go, for God's sake, you need to let me go baby-girl.'

I knew instantly why I kept holding on to my father's memory. Dad's spirit was going to be taken by that thing that stood over my mother; dad probably had been killed by it too. Somehow my will or love for my dad was preventing that entity, or whatever it is, from completely claiming dad. I looked from dad to mum and back to dad, my eyes blurred with tears once more, my heart breaking all over again.

Oh God, what the hell was I going to I do?