Pneuma

Pneuma

She was attired in all black, her long black-brown hair left loose to fall around her shoulders. A long sleeved dress which stopped mid-thigh and on her feet were a pair of black strapped, open toed wedges to make her appear slightly taller. A golden necklace also graced her features tying her look together.  She walked slowly into the church with the procession, ceaseless silent sobs and heads hung low. She took a seat near the back, as it was one of those funerals where you did not really know the deceased, but attended to show  respect and offer condolences.

There was an open casket at the back of the church and friends and family motioned toward it, burdened by the weight of grief . Their hearts were broken, worlds were shattered and lives were seemingly falling apart, without their dearly departed. A woman burst out crying, tears streaming like a river, barely able to control her emotions. Her face, however, unseen as everyone surrounded her figure, trying to comfort and console her. However, that voice, that warm gentle voice sounded all too familiar. For a moment she wandered, thinking to herself, but could not quite place her finger on it.

The service began and everyone returned to their seats. It was truly a beautiful sermon. The eulogy was recited and the life and works of Mallory Triste were reminisced whilst a few tears were shed. She sounded like a genuinely beautiful and pleasant person with whom she could have gotten along with if she had gotten the chance to know her. She tried to compare Mallory to herself reflecting on how each of them had spent their lives upon hearing hers, but nothing came to mind. Every memory, every moment she had, seemed to have gotten lost in a void and was unattainable. She even tried to fathom her own name, or an instance when someone had beckoned to her, but her mind was inexplicably blank.

Her mind raced, thoughts swirling uncontrollably around in her brain. Her breaths became short, fast and heavy. No one noticed her sudden change in behavior, however, and she was thankful, not wanting to take the attention away from the individual they were there for. The service ended and the procession walked out led by the pallbearers, heading toward the cemetery. It was time for the burial, and there came the waterworks once more.

The girl who now knew more about the deceased than of herself, composed her state of being and pushed all worrisome thoughts aside. She made her way to the burial site and stood along side the individuals taking part in the service. The six foot grave was dug by four strong, well built men, looking like the seven dwarfs down in the mines whilst doing so. A few mournful songs were sung and a prayer was said before laying the casket into the ground.

The casket was left open for a few more moments to allow the family to say their last goodbyes, overwhelmed by grief. The woman she had heard sobbing before then lost all composure and threw herself on the floor.

"Mallory! Mallory! What has happened to you my child? Why have you left me so soon?" 

Members of the congregation pushed through the crowd to the mother's aid, trampling all over the girl with no name's now crumpled figure. It was as if a stampede had just passed through and her screams and cries begging them to stop, asking why couldn't they see a human being beneath the soles of their shoes were drowned out by the heavy cladding of their boots.

With a new spurt of energy, she slowly rose from her position on the ground dusting herself off. At first a wave of anger stunned her, but she quickly remembered where she was and let all her rage dissipate. She ambled over to the casket trying to take a swift glance at her face before she was left to the earth. However what she saw surprised her. Was it a mirror? Or a small puddle of water in that casket? As all she saw was a splitting image of herself.  She became numb, her mind spinning once more.

Who was that girl down there? And who am I? These were the thoughts circling her mind in that moment but her memory was in shambles and no one seemed to notice her presence. Soon the casket was closed and dirt was sprinkled on top. It was then covered and the ground sealed, and with each step executed the air seemed to be getting lesser and thinner around her. The world was spinning and she could barely stand. Her mind went in and out of consciousness, remembering the day it all ended.

Her lungs slowly filled with water, her mouth sputtering. Slowly sinking, water forcefully pushing down on her petite frame from all sides. She writhed and thrashed, pounding against the glass in hopes that someone, anyone could hear her silent screams.  She then extended her arm seeking assistance from an illusive distant figure, but to no avail.

"Help! Someone help me!" Her thoughts were screaming as she could say nothing.

"I can't breathe! Someone please save me."

It stood before her huge and grey, the obstacle determining whether she lived or died, but she could not get it open, the doors were jammed. She pulled the handle incessantly but nothing happened. The car had plunged into the Ruins River and there was no way out. Her body unable to hold out any longer, showing signs and symptoms of oxygen deprivation, it would be all over soon. Her throat burning, blood vessels in her eyes rupturing and her frame convulsing. So it was there she lay weightless in the front seat of the submerged car. It was too late. She was already gone; Mallory was already gone.

These images came flooding back as the congregation dispersed. In realization she ran after them screaming, crying, but no one casted her a glance. Then in a blind rage, she banged against the windows and kicked the moving tires but no one saw or heard her, it was as if she wasn't even there.

"Don't leave me here." she pleaded.

She felt hopelessness creep over her as she had now become aware of two facts. One being  that everyone was gone, and they weren't coming back. The other being that the funeral she attended was none other than her own as she and the girl laying in the coffin were one and the same.

Her earlier memories then began making appearances which brought both joyful and mournful tears to her eyes. She was also finally able to pinpoint that woman with the distinct gentle voice; the one who lost all control. It was her mother; the same mother who gave her that necklace, the necklace she was wearing and the one she was buried with.  After which, she fell to the floor clutching her treasure; her necklace, the one thing she now felt the closest to in the world, the one thing that could console her and provide comfort; the one thing that could not leave.