Summer Sights

05 | pebbles

It feels wrong.

I'm surrounded by grande oak trees and the gentle smell of freshly mowed grass, in some sort of park;

And it feels wrong.

On the surface, it's a peaceful scene. The sky is a calming periwinkle and clear as can be. There's nothing else out here to interfere with the serene atmosphere.

But that's the thing.

There's nothing else out here.

No birds.

No insects.

No flowers.

No people.

Just me.

It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Something's wrong. Something's coming. I can feel the hairs on my body that stand with the pass of each anxious moment. I sit up from the park bench that I'm lying on and rest my bare feet on the sharp blades of grass. I wriggle my toes deep into the soil, I always found this much more pleasurable than wriggling them into sand when I was younger. The soil was softer and colder. I've always preferred cold to hot.

Except right now.

Not the soil, but the area. It's a different type of cold. Not the temperature, but the feeling. It feels cold. Inhospitable. Hostile. I've kept my head down, my eyes on my toes and their turmoil against the earth, but I can sense the park getting darker. Clouds beginning to hover over me and pellets of rain slowly starting their downfall. I dare to look up from my now wet feet and I feel a breath catch in my throat when I face what's in front of me.

 Standing right before me, is a tall figure with a face that I can recognize but can't seem to place, now with its long pale fingers wrapped around my neck. He's scorching hot, like he has a fever, and the raindrops that are now coming down hard and fast are doing no justice to ease my pain. He lifts me up from the bench and dangles me like a doll, hands wrapped so tight around my throat that I know I'll be bruised.

 I thrash and claw at his hand, trying to release myself from his tight grasp, but he never lets up. No matter how deep I sink my nails into his hand. Or how hard I scratch. He just stands there. Looking at me with blank eyes. While my tears and the raindrops on my face mix together and glide easily down my cheeks.

 I try to scream. Try to cry for help. Beg for this person, whoever it is, to stop. But nothing comes out. No noise at all. I'm helpless. And I'm weak. But most importantly, I'm slipping. My vision beginning to spot and my arms are growing too tired to fight any longer. I feel myself allow this person I'll never know put me into the perpetual sleep that most fear. But before I'm too far gone, I sense him get close to my ear and he utters his first and last words to me.

"No one's ever gonna love you like I do Kammy."

His voice is just as familiar as the face. And it makes me sick. But it doesn't matter anyway. Because that's the last thing I remember before I sink all the way into the darkness.

♢♢♢

I wake with a start, as if I've been awoken from the dead. I'm panting like I've just run a 5k and I'm covered in sweat. Small droplets trickle down from my forehead and the rest of my body feels sticky like humid air. This always happens after a nightmare.