She can’t breathe. Trying to gasp for air. A rope is tied around her throat. She tries to free herself. With every breath she feels the narrowness. The pulse stops when he touches her. Millions of insects crawl, crawl and spread over her body. When he slowly strokes her shoulder, each of her limbs shrugs.
Electrocution. Small, but strong. A light hammering. When she closes her eyes, she sees fireworks. Bright, rich colours. She can even feel their heat. She is stunned, paralyzed. When their eyes cross, she feels cold and warmth at the same time.
“High above – above her the sky, below her the whole world. She floats. He gives her bliss. Perfection. ”
He says, “I give you freedom,” and lifts her high above the vastness of the city. She loses her balance, doesn’t feel the ground. Weightlessness. High above – above her the sky, below her the whole world. She floats. He gives her bliss. Perfection.
Deep down, the swamp of fears and doubts awaits her. Delicate whisper, the temptation to jump is great. She is so close. Only one step. Only a small step, she thinks. She lets herself fall. Falls. Loses hold. Is pulled into the depth. More and more moves away from him. Always sinks further into the swamp.
She forgets the feeling of space and time. Loses consciousness, orientation, self awareness. Everything turns. The picture becomes blurred. Now it is only a rough shadow in the distance. What remains is memory. Memory of yesterday and thoughts of tomorrow.
She sees a huge fishing net gradually spreading out, stretching around her and becoming ever narrower and narrower. She sees the tightly woven ropes and knots getting tighter and tighter. See how he tries to get through to her. But he gets caught in it. The colours fade and uniform silhouettes and patterns form.
She calls and screams for him, but her screams will never reach him. Darkness. Deep black waves approach and move away from her. Waves of despair, injury and betrayal. She is almost flooded, crushed by their screams, their laughter. All the sounds mix and become one. An hypnotic monochord.
“The wind takes shape. A rigid facial expression of an old man. Wrinkled and marked by life. “
Strong wind pushes them down and a strange feeling of dizziness drives them through. She plunges deeper and deeper. Above her the water surface, infinite. No beginning, no end. She sees the lights shimmering through from above. They are so far away from her. The wind takes shape. A rigid facial expression of an old man. Wrinkled and marked by life.
He speaks to her in a language she has never heard before. She does not understand. He mumbles to himself. Starts singing. Louder and louder until it becomes unbearable. She reaches for him, but he dissolves and becomes dark smoke. Then he reappears, pulling her hair. She takes them off one after the other as if they were thin blades of grass.
His eyes widen. His gaze becomes more piercing. She wants to go up, wants to go back to him. Wants freedom. The higher she wants, the greater the distance to the surface. With every movement she only approaches the abyss again. She can neither climb nor swim. Neither run nor jump. She can’t stand longer. Her arms are weakening.
“The louder she roars, the more incomprehensible and softer her sounds become. “
She feels her fingertips slowly decomposing in the water. She tries to scream, but you can only hear a soft, faint whisper. The louder she roars, the more incomprehensible and softer her sounds become. Roots protrude from the ground and the branches slowly nestle around her legs. Like arms grabbing, pulling, they drag her into the depths.
He wonders why she jumped. She becomes one with the dark water, with the shadow, transparent like a shell. Strange in the fog. How deep do you think it still goes? When she opens her eyes, he opens the curtains. Quietly, so that she doesn’t wake up. It is still early, the sky so clear. The sun will shine in every moment.
He sits at the window and lights a cigarette. She loves to see how deep and concentrated he is. He asks: “Did you had a bad dream?” and smiles at her. He puts the cigarette away and approaches her. He sits down at the edge of the bed and caresses her gently. He looks so lovingly that words are superfluous in this moment. Then he kisses her on the forehead.
Millions of insects spread on her body. Sparks spray. What was yesterday remains yesterday – what comes tomorrow, tomorrow will show. Thist is today. This is now.
Masha is the founder of Literaa Poetry and the better half of Pedro.
She likes to write columns and lifestyle topics and takes care of the editorial staff.
Read more about Masha here.