Not Yet

6 | 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕀 ℕ𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕤

"How could you forget about me?"

I blinked at the sudden voice. Soft and delicate, pure like snow.

"How could you forget about me?" It repeated.

I was surrounded in a field of strawberry bushes. It went on for endless, just a solid green plane of bushes. The sky above was at the time where it was pinkish-orange. The whole scenery was supple and enchanting.

"Hello?" My voice came out as a loud thunder clap, reverberating around the world somehow.

Was the world a room? For I feel trapped but the rising panic is suppressed by the scenery. I ran through the landscape, passing through rows of bushes. Their leaves brushed against my leg. I looked down and found myself wearing a black tuxedo – the basic type of ones. I also wore black leather shoes shined to perfection, and a white bow tie interwoven into my suit. Huh? What was the special occasion?

Again the voice questioned in the same tone, "How could you forget about me?"

I looked around, finding where the voice originated from.

"Who are you?" My voice again ricocheted.

Silence returned and I continued traipsing through the strange farmland, from what I had concluded that this had to be a farmland. Due to the rows of bushes. Oh you're so stupid. Anyone could deduct that you're in a farm. But who's and where?

After ten minutes elapsed, I found a figure calmly sat on a picnic blanket, with the bushes cleared around her. Her face was obscured by a cream-pink veil, while she wore a pink dress that blossomed down to the ground. She also wore a petite, floral-decorated hat, that curved down the left side of her face. A blue parasol was clutched in her white-gloved hands.

"How could you forget about me?" The breath of the figure moved the veil by a small amount.

I was interested at this sudden encounter. It's queer, but that's the fun of it to experience something far different than what I've faced. She beckoned me to come sit with her, to accompany her in a field of emerald green. I followed command, and carefully positioned myself in front of the figure.

I smelt a whiff of floral perfume, as she pulled something from behind and held it in front of me. A simple glass jar contained a neon-coloured butterfly. Fluttering inside without a care. It was elegant, except that it was trapped inside

"What is it for?" I questioned.

There was the whispers of the wind, that caressed the glade of strawberry bushes, carrying that fresh, sweet smell of fertile soil.

She ignored my previous question, "What are you Liam?"

Her voice was still beautiful, which could harness a greater power to cause such self-destruction to another individual. It could drive them mad with love. I was becoming insane, desiring more, for my lust has once been dammed but now pierced by her seemingly perfect voice. I almost forgot what she said.

I cocked my head in perplexity, "What do you mean?"

"What are you Liam?" she repeated once more.

I dug my nails into my palm. What am I? The answer is unobtainable.
It's a haze that I cannot see pass.

"A burden Liam. You're a burden," she finally answered and I watched as the butterfly in the jar withered away into a lifeless pulp.