Sep 2013
My fingers brush lightly across the smooth keys, trying to find my way around these jumbled letters. My mind wonders freely with no restrains, allowing every thought to devour me, slowly ripping into their lifeless prey; savoring each bite until there lay a stack of bones.
The whistle pierces my cold ears beyond belief, breaking through the field of wheat, and past the garden of falling blue roses. It meets my face, an unnerving gust activating chills down my back, separating each hair on my head, and eventually leaving them twined as the stars surround me in a whirlwind.
My feet begin to rise from the dusted old black and white ground, into an abyss of dark, mysterious void. Puzzle pieces lost, frantically trying to find their place as they scramble somewhere in the ruins of what’s left.
“Mommy,” she calls, “Mommy?” The cringing cry of a small child realizing the lonesome truth of what is causes the cold object in my chest to burst into life and my legs to move at the speed of light.
“Hello?” my voice strains, only leaving an abundance of echo in this meaningless storm. “Who’s there?”
In a moment of sorrow, I feel a small and fragile hand slowly wrap around mine, cold and ever-so gentle her grasp. This tiny figure standing just a couple feet off the ground looks up at me endearingly, edging me on into something unknown. Her eyes, which sparkled with virtue and purity, widens as terror consumed every last morsel of her being.
My hand dropped in weightless gravity as she loosened her grasp and stepped back into the shadows, her silhouette gradually demolishing. I peered in her direction before becoming engulfed in such obscurity; the sound of a rock against payment brought my attention to a darting object running toward the vast woods.
“Wait! What’s your name? I beg of you, wait!” I begin to chase her through sharp trees and branches, feeling the sting of pain creep up on me.
“Please. Don’t.” Her words linger through the air.
The fog distorts my vision; I see a vacant old house when the trees fade from our path, in the midst of darkened clouds the little girl appears. Her thin delicate arm spreads out, pointing her index finger.
My eyes meet her gaze and I see it – drawing closer to us… the red balloon.
The whistle pierces my cold ears beyond belief, breaking through the field of wheat, and past the garden of falling blue roses. It meets my face, an unnerving gust activating chills down my back, separating each hair on my head, and eventually leaving them twined as the stars surround me in a whirlwind.
My feet begin to rise from the dusted old black and white ground, into an abyss of dark, mysterious void. Puzzle pieces lost, frantically trying to find their place as they scramble somewhere in the ruins of what’s left.
“Mommy,” she calls, “Mommy?” The cringing cry of a small child realizing the lonesome truth of what is causes the cold object in my chest to burst into life and my legs to move at the speed of light.
“Hello?” my voice strains, only leaving an abundance of echo in this meaningless storm. “Who’s there?”
In a moment of sorrow, I feel a small and fragile hand slowly wrap around mine, cold and ever-so gentle her grasp. This tiny figure standing just a couple feet off the ground looks up at me endearingly, edging me on into something unknown. Her eyes, which sparkled with virtue and purity, widens as terror consumed every last morsel of her being.
My hand dropped in weightless gravity as she loosened her grasp and stepped back into the shadows, her silhouette gradually demolishing. I peered in her direction before becoming engulfed in such obscurity; the sound of a rock against payment brought my attention to a darting object running toward the vast woods.
“Wait! What’s your name? I beg of you, wait!” I begin to chase her through sharp trees and branches, feeling the sting of pain creep up on me.
“Please. Don’t.” Her words linger through the air.
The fog distorts my vision; I see a vacant old house when the trees fade from our path, in the midst of darkened clouds the little girl appears. Her thin delicate arm spreads out, pointing her index finger.
My eyes meet her gaze and I see it – drawing closer to us… the red balloon.
