Short Stories || Original

YOU

Written for - School Assessment
Year written - 2018
Word count - 1029

     Ivory and blush flowers dance with ribbons of green in a sea surrounding you. They tangle around your body; you lay in the soft bed of petals. Soft melodies of birds trickle through the meadow; you rise. The origin of the beautiful melodies are more of a mystery than they would normally be, as the hidden stages of large oak or small dogwood trees from which the birds perform are nowhere to be seen. The spring sun glares down on you from behind a layer of bleached cloud and the light hazes your sight. You stand and look around yourself only to discover every near horizon drops away without a marker or change from the endless ocean in which you exist. You make a choice and walk. Other than the birdless song, you are alone.

     The summit of a rise reveals secrets; a shallow valley carves its way before you. The same field of pastel waves flood the expanse of the hallow, being interrupted only by a glistening diamond river. You expect some sort of coast between the ocean and the river, however the blossoms continue to waltz as the water laps at the bottom of their stalks. It isn't the border that you are focusing on, it is the crouching figure dressed in blue.

     Indigo fabric falls delicately from her small frame's shoulders hidden by raven hair; the dark colours contrast against the lightness of the area around her and yourself in a way you find particularly unnerving. As you get closer you can see what she appears to be doing; white and pink flowers float from her mahogany hands and continue on down the crystalline river spinning mesmerizingly in a tango with the currents. You call out to her.

     She stops her activity, standing silently from her crouch and even from behind she shows her young age. She is a child, your guess is about nine or ten, maybe eleven at a stretch. As you run to her you are pulled to dance. Pinks and whites drag at your ankles as you get closer to her; the seafloor dropping away as you venture further into the waves.

     Now, as you walk through the quicksand of plant life that had only been so kind to you, you are sure you feel strands wrap as high as your knees. Once more you call out to the girl, this time however you are more desperate. The blooms do not stop their crusade of invitation but you must go on. She's right there. You must reach her. You must, you must, you must.

     One more step. That's as far as you get before your legs are completely anchored. One more shout and finally the girl turns around to look at you. You can't look away from her as she stares you down, walking to you and sitting herself cross-legged before you. You expect her to push you under and hold you down but it isn't what happens. Instead she just looks at you, admires you, observes you as though you were a sculpture in a fine art museum.

     The grass and blossoms continue to coil around you, creeping closer and closer to your head and stopping you from grabbing the girl. If only you could grab her. Perhaps if she was also in danger she would help you. But she seems calm about everything, about you. The only expression you can read on her face are those of wonder and curiosity. No worry, no panic, no sadness; not even when you waste your breath asking for help. She extends a hand towards your head and with a single finger she flicks a strand of your hair back into place, patting it down as you would have had you seen this out of place hair in a mirror or window.

     Rather innocently you continue to battle against the fate that you seem to have sealed for yourself. It is beginning to hurt as thorns begin to grow into your bound legs. You cry out at the feeling, just as much in discomfort as in pain. You yell at her, questioning her. Why is she just watching? Why is she not helping you?

     Everything is her. She is the one controlling the surf and currents that are dragging you down and down to your death. It is her that is doing this to you, and with one swift movement of a hand she steers the arms of her army around your mouth to shut you up. There's nothing you can do as you are dragged down and down, blossoms and blades of fine grass framing your vision of the girl, closing in together, and you swear you can hear her laugh. Her laugh is light and melodic, but with the situation playing out as it is it also sounds rather sadistic.

     Any light escapes your vision as the brambles haul you under the surface. No matter how hard you swim and flail against the vines that are drowning you there is nothing you can do. There are no sounds. The complete cover of boa-like vines tighten and tighten into flesh, squeezing and suffocating its prey, suffocating you. There's nowhere you can go, nothing you can do to stop yourself from the torrential current of thorns griping into your skin and dragging you deeper to the depths of the ocean you had previously been standing it.

     Luminous space envelopes you; a forged pure white. Gravity takes affect and you plummet downwards toward the earth below. The sky whistles past you as a familiar ocean rushes up to catch you in it's arms. You land on your back with a hard splash. Ivory and blush flowers dance with ribbons of green in a sea around you. They tangle around your body as you lay in the soft bed of petals and meadow. Soft melodies of birds trickle into your ears as you rise, where they begin is more of a mystery than it would normally be as the hidden stages of large oaks or small dogwoods from which the singers perform. You pick a direction and begin to walk.

Are you sure it all exists?