Creative Writing: Home

I want to die, and it was the worse feeling in the world.

Open mouth.

Lungs.

Air in, air out.

Nothing was happening.

Get your tongue out of the way.

Air sears into my lungs. I shook, and retch, and try to move my head again. Head. Stomach. Face. Skin. Pain washes down my body in agonizing waves. Body. I wiggle my fingers and toes, excruciating and wrong.

So incredibly wrong.

I open my mouth to laugh before I start to realize that I don't know how to.

Stand.

I brace my hand against the ground and began to lift myself up.

Stay still.

The man's voice echoes painfully in my head. Was that my voice? I wonder what buried conscious could possibly want to stop me from running all the way home.

Home.

Suddenly, memories surge and broke the dam that had built up in my mind. I didn't have time before the darkness consumed me.

---

I wake up to tears on cheeks. Somewhere around me, a woodpecker raps. The air on my skin made me shiver. The rain continues to fall softly, before they start to fall in chaotic drops. It runs down my face as a thin layer and washes my face of dirt and sweat. It wasn't as cold as when November comes, but without the warmth of spring showers. The sky is so bright I could see reds and yellows through my thin eyelids without having to open them. I open my eyes.

Too bright.

I closed them again.

Get things done one at a time.

In my thoughts, the sun shines in her nutty brown hair as she stretches out on the ground beside me. She smiles brilliantly at me, as fresh and wild and innocent and mysterious as the woods itself. She speaks, her perfect, bright crystal tones soothes me. She laughs with her whole body, and even the radiant smile that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle glows. She was startlingly beautiful, like a newborn fawn, even more so in her unawareness of the fact. She was at the same time selfish and giving, ungrateful and kind. Her name is Elisa