Window Cracks

▶️The Merge◀️

The wood has an eerie atmosphere at night. The trees are darker shadows against the greyish-black backdrop of the sky which is covered with thick clouds. The trees sway lazily in the lowly-whistling wind. Apart from me and the trees, everything is still.

I boldly march on, tightening my fist as my fingers wrap themselves around the straps of my grey bag like a merciless snake coiling around its prey. My legs are antagonistic levers, with my feet in old grey sandals cracking and crushing the dead, fallen and dried leaves as I step on them.

My footsteps cannot even distract me from my thoughts as I think of Hannah with each progressive move I make.

"I live there."

That is what she said to me when we first talked, and she pointed up the hill. Despite the fact that she said those words probably for conversation, she knew that my knowledge of where she lives would come in handy right about now, and I am grateful for that. I charge up to her house.

I climb the steep hill with gliding and light steps, stepping on the now plush and twisted vegetation that I can feel grabbing my toes with each step I take. I feel myself slowly falling short of breath as I desperately inhale for more air. I am not unfit. I am no longer unfit. It is just that I am nervous. This is Hannah's house I am going to. She is probably sleeping, or having a conversation with her mother and/or father or guardian that I know nothing about and have not met.

Did Zelch tell her elders that she constantly leaves the Tank?
Do her elders know about the world?
Do they support her?
What if I am about to interrupt her sleep and she will never look at me the same?
I am such a creep.

My steps falter because of my sudden hesitance being fed by my thoughts, and I fall back, close to tripping and tumbling down the slope, but I dig my fingers into the soft soil and jolt myself up with my legs.

Just then do I realise how much distance I have covered. I feel the cool thin wind blowing wistfully and vacantly on this distantly elevated land, and I feel free, like I am in a heaven. Replenishing. I know I am high up now and it is not an option to go back down.

I reach Hannah's house, analysing it. It is small and dark, wooden and creaking, but still sturdy and firm for its precarious location. The wind blows stronger and I feel dizzy, as if my thoughts are being whirled in my head by the strong breeze.

I slowly approach the door made of strong-looking wooden boards. They have small cracks of spaces between them and they are just spacious enough to let candlelight probe through, and that is exactly what I see. I slowly put my right eye near the crack and try locate the origin of the light.

One side of this thick board is illuminated more the side of the other thick board.

To the right of the room. The candle, that is.

I cannot see much from my perspective. I manoeuvre the perimeter of the wooden house with careful, lightly-treading steps. I gently place my pale looking hand on the wood. My hand, it looks translucent because of the moon that has emboldened itself from the thick clouds. I guess it helps me see where I touch on the wood.

As I progress, brushing my blistering fingertips against the wooden walls of the house, I am about to reach where I was standing in the beginning. I start considering knocking the door and being formal in greeting to Hannah and her elders.

Trying to be formal.

However, I spot a very wide crack with a weaker lighting probing through and I instantly place my eye there. I can see almost everything.

This room is dimly lit. It has no door, just a space where one usually is. The candle is a distance ahead near a wooden door.

I realise I am spotting the same candle from the beginning, just from a different perspective, and room.