Seeking Spring

Slumber

Chapter 3 | Slumber

Crisp, chilling wind, picked at the risen hairs of my skin. Proding at the dead skin and setting it adrift into the darkness. Where had the wind even brushed in from? It brought a scent of neither nature, nor fumes of artificial leaves off of trees, but a sense of emotions and feelings. With every inhale, a breath of grief. With every exhale, a once inhaled hope. I felt it all. I felt my heart curl and crumble beneath the feelings filling my lungs. Have you ever felt such a thing, the physical, actual feeling, of a heart breaking. It's subtle, however, you know that thing they say about how our ears are attracted to "new" sounds, sounds that outbreak from nowhere and are odd to our senses? Like when you're walking down a trail and a broken twig sounds from the bushes, and our minds immediately sense fear or alert. This feeling though, this physical breaking of that thing in your chest, sounded so loud yet so hushed above all others, that my ears had no choice but to hear it crack; only then to bring forth the feeling of pain to my mind. Pain, real pain. One in which I could not help but fall to my knees, grasping at my chest. But I did not fall. In fact, I found myself standing taller, the bend in my knees straightened and firm.

Another gust of wind tumbled in, from what felt like infinite directions, if there really were an infinite amount of directions to travel in from. This time, it brought an actual scent, one that still did not fail to bring with it, an emotion all of it's own. The smell was the stench of a hospital waiting room, and it brought with it, the feeling of death and yearning. Some sort of odd, mocking mixture, was all I could make of it. Thread unraveling, sounded from above. This place, this world, must've been decently silent, as I could hear everything, including things you shouldn't have the ability to hear. And I wasn't sure if I like that, just yet. As the sound of my heart crippling, continued, as well as the cruising wind, a string fell to it's weight, as if it were being held by something, or someone, above. It's end reached just at eye level, falling slightly below. It seemed uneffected by the continuous winds that moved in currents around me, and it also appeared to radiate its own light, as the room was completly dark; but as of now, with the string in front of me, the room was dim. The thread was crimson red, as if it had been dipped and soaked in the color a million lifetimes, possibly more. As I reached my hand towards the string, my hand was illuminated, and it was only then that I could see I was trembling. I wished to have no part in having my hands coated in red once more, and something ached in my mind, that if I were to grab hold of the thread, it would do just that. Yet, I was drawn so stubbornly by the string, that it felt as though the string not only illuminated itself in the complete darkness, as well as other thing, but it also exerted its own force, its personal push and pull; and it pulled my hand closer and closer, till the tips of my fingers grazed its frayed ends and sides. And it was true, the thread exerted a force all of its own, it was heavy and light all at once. Then again, I wasn't sure of my senses in this world, as I'm sure you couldn't breathe in emotions, as well as breathing them out.

The skin of my fingers ran up and down the length of the string in which was visible. My head turned upward towards what felt to be a ceiling, or possibly the sky of outer space, and the string seemed to dissapear, evaporate almost, into the darkness. Endless, I kept thinking. Completely, and utterly, endless. I began to curl my fingers, in attempt to wrap my complete palm around the thread that hung from somewhere. As more of my skin came in contact with the thread, the louder the sound of my heart became, breaking and putting itself back together, over and over again, repeatedly and endlessly. Endlessly. The thread began to tangle its way around my fingers, through the cracks and between the webs, till it circled its way around my pinky, wrapping and pulling, and tightening. The world continued to get louder. Gusts of wind, the sound of breaths from my emptying lungs, and my heart pumping and failing. I wanted to scream, and yell; and it felt as if I was, however I couldn't be sure, as my lips did not part nor did my voice strain, and I couldn't possibly hear it creak over the deafening sounds around me and within me. The sounds increased in there strain, till I counted to infinity and backwords and then... nothing. A silence worse then going deaf, with a slow and steady beeping sound.