I dont often post my writing for my stories/hopefully eventually books but I am unusually pleased with this part. It started out as a 10 minute warm up to do some work and ended up as a 2 n 1/2 page, full of emotion scene that fits into my ongoing plans for a novel. It really surprised me in the direction it went but i'm glad it did. So here, have at it! :]
Think not of the season around you, think not of the cold within you, think of the warmth all down you. The trails of feeling left by mindless fingers, trailing endlessly around you, up and down your arms, along your back, up your spine and around your neck, across your freckle covered face and through the hair on your temples. You are numb other than the trails, little pitter patters of feeling and raised hair, imagined hearths with blazing fires, warm wine settled deep within your stomach along with the welling daze that comes close to sleep.
The snow does not matter, the sluggish panic does not matter, all that matters are the remembered ghosts of past times, of winters inside and ones not buried in snow and ice at the edge of a lake that dragged you in and spat you out like a petulant child would an unwanted sweet.
You are dying, you know it, no one will find you, not now, hours down the river that they never saw you fall into. But it does not matter, not anymore, because you had the greatest time of your life in the past three weeks and you can die knowing that you where loved and you loved and at least you experienced that small part of the world which had always seemed so allusive before.
Numbness grasps you, wraps you in its ribs and settles you next to its heart, you can feel it beating in tandem with your own, slowing and quickening, fighting for life against the apathy that has kissed your lips and stolen your feelings and broken the dam to your thoughts.
Ears ring, teeth click and for a short moment your heart matches the beat, making the cold spread through the warmth you had somehow managed to keep, whisking it away on swift wings.
Morbidly you laugh, it rattles out your lungs and past frost filled lips, you had always said you liked the cold and now it is what takes you away. Your tears burn as they slide down your face and into the ice that clings to your damp hair.
Come on, your imagination was always your best aspect, so use it now. You imagine hurried footsteps crunching snow, running, you can hear running and voices. Almost as drown out by the sound of water as you were but they are there, just past the horizon. You don't know if it's your imagination anymore or your friends actually coming to get you so you rasp. Rasp out quiet whispers "I'm here. I'm here come find me." You know they can, they always can. They find when you most need it and they will do it again.
The sound fades, nothing other than the water and heartbeat ringing in your ears. No. No no no nonononononono. The apathy fades abruptly, like a thief struck, dropping the feelings it stole and you gather them into you. Gorging yourself on everything you can feel, mostly pain but ultimately, overwhelmingly panic. Panic for what you will lose, for what you had just gained being ripped away from you. Panic that they will not find you in time, oh you do not doubt that they will find you, just fear that they will be late the one time you need them more than anything.
Suddenly anger blooms. Anger at the snow, so beautiful but dangerous, hiding the edge of the river that you did not know was so close, anger at your pathetic self for not being able to move, to drag yourself any further away from the cold and back to the warmth that you just know is beyond the horizon. But most of all at yourself for that one stupid decision to go outside and make that stupid Fucking Snowman!
Your breathing gets even shorter for a moment, a rabbit kicking about your chest, before it stills, the same as your heart.
Breath!! Breathe in Now!
You gasp in air and the world pauses, the overcast clouds, the river, the birds, everything stops for a moment. You take everything you have. Every last bit of pain, of panic, of anger and you release them as you would a wild bird, you throw it from you and into the air. A mindless scream, an objection to the thought of going quietly. If you are going to die you will do it as reluctantly as possible. These last few weeks had not been a blessing for you to die happy. No. They had been an invitation for something to live for. Something you could fight for, to have again, something to protect and if you are not there, part of it will be broken. Fight! You will fight! Not everything is set in stone and you sure as hell ain't going to let go without doing as much as you can to hold on and fight for a life that you know has some meaning, no matter how small and low down it is on the scale of 'Important shit that the universe needs'.
Again you scream. Lungs heaving, burning, freezing, feeling. Objecting, always objecting. 'I will breathe, live, shout, scream! I will never mutter again! I am of use, I am important! Why did you never use me like this before! I am how you live, let me show you!' your lungs seem to be shouting at you as much as you are shouting at the world. A life of quiet whispers, of sighs, of soft silent breathing and now you are screaming. It's terrifying, you might die, but also it's exhilarating and you agree with your lungs, if you survive you will talk proudly, clearly, every morning when you wake up you will take a deep breath and say hello to a world that tried to drown you out and wash you away. You will appreciate every part of your body that works even if it's faulty and somewhat broken.
You scream once more and it makes it past the ringing in your ears and hopefully past the treeline, up the valley and into the ears of someone that can, that will, help. The edges of your vision go dark as you take your next breath, dimming out the glare of the snow but you don't care, you need to scream again, let them know where you are because you are sure every inch of the dark clothes you are wearing's covered with snow and ice, blending with the surrounding area.
Every scream is fluctuating and painful, fading in and out but you keep them up as long as possible even as your eyes reluctantly flutter closed.
Between one scream and the next you faintly hear something through the sound of your own mind. When you focus its not there anymore. So you continue, breathe, breathe, scream, breathe, breathe, scre- Its there again! You cut out half way through your scream, it hurts, oh it hurts, but it's worth it. Sound, something other than you or the river, its there. You snap open your eyes to look but can't do much other than look through your peripheral vision, stinging eyes rapidly rolling about until they hurt and can only look forward. Shouting now, calling your name, your heart aches, new tears spring to your eyes. "HERE! I'm here!" you try but it comes out little more than a broken shout but it's enough. Footsteps eat into the snow above where you lay and kick snow across your body as someone skids to a stop beside you. Two someones. Hands burning imprints into your neck and wrist as they press against veins. Two faces appear above you. Red and silver hair fills your vision as faces come into focus. Lips moving but you hear nothing. They found you. You needed them and so here they are, frantic and moving too fast for you to follow, but they are here and so your panic and anger gives out, though the pain still remains, and slowly sleep crawls through the cold in your body.
You watch silently as your outer layers of clothes are cut off and your body is wrapped up into the furs and fleeces that usually stay hidden under the bed until frost appears on the insides of the windows. Your friend picks you up, his strong arms supporting you and cradling you into his warmth as he had done the night before, only this time when you rest your head in the crook of his neck, laughs do not follow, instead silent tears run down your face and into his hair.
Red, in your sleepy daze it seems like the most brilliant colour you have seen in your life, the first colour other than white that you have seen since you fell into the river. Vibrant and warm like flames dancing around a campfire and it fits your friend perfectly. Beyond the red you see your other friend run ahead up the embankment and out of view. Before she disappears you see her swipe at her face with gloved hands but you know she couldn't be crying, she's never cried, not in all the years you've known her.
The gentle rocking motion of your friend as he carries you pulls oblivion closer so that it hovers about your head like bee around a flower. Your eyes close for a moment but you flinch them back open again and are surprise to take note that you are laid out in a car with your head in your friends lap as she strokes your hair away from your face. She notices your movement and looks down at you giving you a watery smile. Leaning down she presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and mutters against the skin there "Don't worry Petal, we're taking you home."
You give her a watery smile of your own and listen for a moment to the engine of the car as it speeds down roads you cannot see. 'Home sounds good right now' you think, wanting to say it but not having the strength or the energy, instead you slowly blink at her before letting oblivion once again cover your eyes and claim you.
I hope you liked it :] feed back would be nice?