Never Swing Too High

Never Swing Too High

    Fen and Tyrn sat curled on the curved seats layered with rusty fuzz, their ghostly bodies flickering every time a breeze stirred their perches. Their swings dangled on two sinewy ropes, mounted to a cylinder, bleached like aged bones. The apparitions’ fingers wrapped around the cords which cast stretched shadows across the small clearing hugged by mottled trees.

    “If only I had sticked the landing. If only,” moaned Fen.

    Tyrn sighed. Not again. How many decades had it been? The same tirade from Fen, repeated over and over. He was tired of it, living in repetitive hell and locked to this swing set. He couldn’t stop her ranting, no matter how hard he tried.

    “I knew how to do an earth drop perfectly. I don’t know what happened that day. I don’t know why I made a messed up.” Fen’s wispy body swirled, then darkened. “I would still be alive. Walking around. Instead of here with you.” Her form dimmed. “Why? Why me?”

    Tyrn did not respond. There was no point. His thoughts floated away from the conversation, coalescing on a day in the past.

    Tyrn and Fen rocked on the swings, their thin, tan arms pumping while their legs stretched. Back and forth they flowed under the sparkling sun.

    “Don’t go too high,” Fen squealed, her voice wrapped in laughter. She kicked her leather booted feet and her white tunic billowed.

    Tyrn stiffened to decrease the height of his arc. Terrible things happened if you swung too high. He wasn’t sure what, but his parents had warned him with deepened frowns and hissed words. They forbid him from doing many things, telling Tyrn he must respect the ways of the dwell. Avoid the emerald waters. Pass swiftly by the ebony-barked trees. And never stare into the crystal caves. His parents said when he was older and braver, they would tell him why.

    “I am going to do it.” Fen leaned backward, pivoting on her butt bones, her legs curling over her head. “Watch me Tyrn. Tyrn watch me!”

    Tyrn’s silver-grey eyes tracked Fen’s movements. She somersaulted backward and flipped from the swing. Her body spun through the air until her foot snagged the rope, snagging her like a fish. She crashed to the stony ground, her head cushioning the force from her body, her neck cracking. She crumpled on the ground.

    “Fen. Fen. Fen!” Tyrn shrieked, spraying her with pebbles as his heels stopped his swing.

    Fen remained motionless, her chest still. Tyrn sobbed. Fen lay like the greese did after his Mumma broken its neck, preparing it for dinner. Fen couldn’t be dead. She was his forever friend and they always played together. No, she wasn’t gone. She couldn’t be. And they made a pact never to leave each other.

    Tyrn riveted his gaze forward, jerking his body back and forth, until his swing hurled toward the ashy sky. If he didn’t see Fen, nothing bad had happened. Everything was still the same. Tyrn flexed his arms, his whitened knuckles gripping the cables, going higher and higher, faster, and faster. He was flying, soaring away from the clearing. A rush of euphoria washed over him.

    Tryn was free. Nothing weighed him down. Fen and he would get together tomorrow, as they always did. The ropes shrieked and sang.

    The earth rumbled and tremors rocked the swing set. Tyrn tumbled to the ground, the stones piercing his flesh. He gasped for breath.

    One of the structure’s legs ripped from the ground and twisted upward, a pointed, scaled head with three amber eyes attached to its end. The head shook, spraying Tyrn with dirt. It opened its maw lined with tiny spikes and a low, guttural bark exploded from its throat. The swings flipped upward, and webbing grew, creating fanned plates. The creature spied Fen.

    The beast yanked Fen off the ground with its mouth, ground her body, then swallowed her. When Tyrn screamed, the beast spun towards him.

    Tyrn struggled to raise as the head loomed over him, darkening him in its shadow. Tyrn beat the creature with his fists as its maw engulfed him. He shrieked then was shoved into darkness.

    The memory seeped from Tyrn’s consciousness, hiding itself deep in his psyche, to return in nightmares. The voice of Fen vibrated the air.

    “Do you think if I didn’t try the earth drop, I would still be alive? Why is life so unfair? Why am I here?” Without lungs, Fen never had a need to pause to breathe.

    Fen paused her prattling as a petite figure skipped into the clearing, her boots squeaking on the stony ground. The girl lowered her bottom on the swing Fen sat on, causing Fen’s essence to crack. Fen reappeared sitting next to Tyrn on his seat. Both watch the girl rock gently back and forth until she drifted into the air. 

    Fen turned toward Tyrn. “So, if I would have swung like she is, would I be alive? But I had to get high enough to do the drop. But why, why did I do it? Why is she alive, and I am dead?”

    Tryn clutched his head, dying inside. I can’t take her anymore. Gone was the warmth of their friendship, scrapped away over the years locked together.

    The girl reached a high arc then stiffened, controlling her momentum.

    Tyrn watched her when a thought slipped into his mind. He couldn’t. Or could he? Would it work?

    Tyrn drifted to the girl and wrapped himself around her. He felt the thumping of her heart, the fluid coursing through vessels, her neurons firing. He thought of how exhilarating he felt the moment after Fen died. How crazy it was, how free he was.

    The girl’s muscles tightened, and she threw herself into swinging. She soared higher and higher. The ropes vibrated and began to sing.

    The ground rumbled and stones danced on the ground. A gaping maw streaked with grey appeared. The swings tossed the girl into the air. A snap, a swallow and she was gone. The beast snorted then thrust its head back into the ground. The swings tumbled down.

    Fen perched on the swing next to Tyrn, for once speechless. A small, spectral figure formed in the clearing. She flowed over to the empty swing next to Fen and sat down. Fen eyed at her.

    “Hello I am Fen.”

    “Hello, I am Muria”

    Fen leaned closer to Muria. “I also died here. Let me tell you how….”

    Pain raked Tyrn’s consciousness. His body shimmered then fragmented, scattering wisps toward the sky, then reformed. Tyrn flowed to the edge of the clearing. He lifted his hand and touched the curling bark of one of the trees. Smiling, he slipped into the forest.