languid

“Running from nothing. The cold air like daggers on his lungs. ‘Do you remember?’ The sound of leaves crunching and sticks snapping, broke the silence in the still night. A full moon, of course, how cliché. ‘That time you wrote that letter?’ The boy stopped, scanning his surroundings, silence taking over again. The bloodthirsty, flesh-eating, creature would have taken his head easily if he hadn’t ducked in time. ‘What letter?’ This sudden interaction caused a twitch in the boy’s leg, and in no time he was off. He ran traumatized, for no man alive shall, come upon a beast so gruesome, and grotesque, and leave carefree. ‘And still, I lit a candle in that small room.’ And just like the movies, the boy tripped on a tree’s root, and his fate was soon decided. A short passing of three days, and seconds were mellow. The sun was sleeping, the moon hanging on by a thread, and the stars making up for lost time. Where have all the stars gone? Are they down under or up above? If you stretch will they stray, or reel you in faster than you can manage?’ 

Amnesia: a partial or total loss of memory. I wasn't always like this, not everything used to be “empty”. But now the world is like a white canvas. Amnesia, who would've known. 

It's been 2 months since I've come home and something is off. They're not telling me something, just something isn't right. But we can only hope for the best, and wait until tomorrow. And so I did.

Today is such a nice day, not too cold, not too hot, perfect for a walk to get everything off my mind. I was walking in the woods admiring Mother Nature’s beautiful work when I saw something strange on the path ahead. 

They seemed to be footprints? They were coming out of the bushes, crossing the path, and disappearing into the bushes on the other side. 

I decided to follow them, because why not? Somewhere inside me knew not to go, but I ignored it and trudged on. 

I need to know where they lead, but why? My canvas is still blank. I can't remember a thing.

The prints were slowly disappearing, wind blowing dirt and leaves back and forth. I ran, my feet aching from the previous hours of walking, energy replaced by determination.

And finally, I came across something I knew, but didn’t? Why are things so confusing! There laid a strange house before me and, maybe the owner of the footprints is in there? I walked in pushing away the feeling of being here before. 

Remembering why I was there, I went upstairs feeling the rotting oak creek below my feet.

I entered a room with my jaw dropping to the floor. There were stuffed animals everywhere, all feet matching the footprints I saw earlier. 

I stopped, pictures appearing on my canvas, I know why I'm here... 

    “BUZZZZZ!” I was awoken by my alarm clock. It was all a dream, but felt so real. What even is real anymore? I need to know why I was there. 

I ran downstairs and through the door, thank goodness everyone was still asleep. I cut through the same woods. 

The house is gone? 

“Or is it?” 

I heard a voice, and with that my head ached with so many questions that may never be answered. 

“W-Who said that?” My voice cracked a bit, something felt off. No one answered. My hair stood and my hands became warm.

I was scared. But, I couldn’t have been too scared because I immediately continued searching. The house felt so real and I was walking, looking, until I ran into something standing in, seemingly, nothing.

I reached my arm out and it was forcibly stopped from stretching completely, my fingers rolled against a surface. Don’t tell me- it was invisible. I felt around until I touched what seemed to be a doorknob.

And when I pulled, the door flew open, I guess it was.

I walked inside heading straight for the stairs, to find the animals talking and walking. This can’t be real. 

I crept into the room.

“Oh, it’s you,” I heard a voice say, a slight drawl to his o’s. ”I’m Mr. Taravan and you’re a bit earlier than I’d expected.” He finished.

“And I’m Mr. Leaving.” I rushed towards the door, stopped by sharp talons digging into my shoulders.

And I turned. The animals slithered, danced, and crawled around me. I dropped to the floor damp wood cold on my back, and remembered.

I had my ear against the bedroom door while playing with my stuffed animals, listening to the two conversing in the next room. “We need this house, those animals will protect him.” I heard a familiar voice say, but the next one not so much. ”He’s coming we must leave.” It all happened so fast, my mother grabbed me and into the car I went.

I don't remember much because of my current state, but I was able to pull out the little information my brain helped. 

And when surged forward,

alI could do was run.

There was no destination in my mind, but there was one thing. I was running to a place where I’d never be seen again. 

First things first get out of those woods. It may not have been clear where I was going, but I knew my journey was just beginning.

With puffy eyes and cheeks stained red, I slowed into a steady pace, and continued. What do you do when more than half your life was cut, no, ripped out.

Leaving you with a mind full of nothingness. Nothing, but new memories and thoughts. Guess, they weren't kidding when they said out with the old and in with the new.

Even in life threatening moments I could joke around.

To go from the innocent child that silently plays with his toys alone enjoying himself, to  being hunted like prey by an unknown predator.