Never Look Behind

      The water is mind-numbing and insistent, pushing past Mandy’s legs as she stands in the winding river. She never bothers to roll her trousers up; she doesn’t mind the water, and treats it as a friend. Under the heat of the blazing summer sun, she takes a tentative step forward, and results in her legs being splattered in the salty droplets. Her trousers, normally a khaki green, have been stained to a dark green from all the moisture. Despite this, with each step Mandy takes, her confidence soars, like a baby bird finally being able to fly.

           Flowers twist lazily next to her, as she keeps on stepping forward. Her trousers are drenched, clinging onto her pale skin, but she doesn’t mind. Wispy hair bedraggled by the incessant breeze, she uses a hand to keep it out of her eyes, which are focused on the very-distant horizon.

           In the small town of Jacksonville, everything is quaint, and peaceful. Houses are modern, everything coated from top to bottom in a thick layer of white paint, the smell of which lingers for miles. The paint, combined with the heavy cloud of smog which overhangs the town, gives tourists’ noses a rough time when they visit. Rotten eggs, raw fish, smelly feet… the stench of these are always to be expected when you visit. The heinous smell is counteracted, though, by the abundance of flowers that grow in the gardens of these homes.

           Amongst the outside of the fences, you can always see plentiful of colours, ranging from a vivid fuchsia to a sophisticated purple. Plenty of them are a mixture of colours, dappled like they’ve had paint flicked at them. It truly is a delightful sight, the rainbow of flowers battling against the brutality of the atmosphere in the little town.

           Back in the centre of the town of Jacksonville, many riots have been occurring. Too many times, Mandy has been awoken in the middle of the nights by the sound of bullets ricocheting off her house. Every time, she watches fearfully as plaster breaks away from the ceiling, falling painfully slow onto her lips. Sometimes she inhales some, and it tastes unnatural on her tongue. With every visit from the bullets, Mandy cowers under her cotton sheets, willing the harsh clangs and clutters outside to cease to an end... they never do.

           In the mornings, the aftermath of the attacks are horrendous. A tremendous amount of bodies always litter the floor, not yet identified by the policemen, and blood splatters all over the houses. The flowers, normally adorned with beautiful colours, are all blanketed in the red liquid, and it drips down the stems and onto the soil. Traumatised every single time by it, Mandy always makes her way to the river; the cool current that laps at her legs calms her down almost immediately, as if the water is her protector. With no family to call her own, the water is all she has left.

           And I’m completely fine with that, she thinks to herself calmly.  

           As her foot stomps down on the water again, pushing it over the sides of the river, Mandy strains her ears. Her heart plummets to the floor, her mouth as dry as a desert, as she listens to the increasing cries of people back in the heart of Jacksonville.

           They’re here. They’re here again.

           Refusing to look back at her beloved village, she carries on striding through the water, her pace increasing every minute. She tries not to think about the endless shouts and scream that plague her, the sound travelling for miles before it reaches her. Mandy’s eyes, innocent and afraid, scan the surroundings in front of her, wondering where she can go for safety.

           I can’t go back. And whatever you do, don’t look behind.

           Whilst she firmly reminds herself of this, the land beside the river begins to rumble. Animals dash past at full pelt, escaping the terrors of the town, and even the wind wants to be away from it, soaring past her with a whoosh. The sky, usually clear and a dazzling blue, now looms over them, grey and stippled with clouds.

And with that, the skies open up.

Frustrated and frightened, it isn’t long before the sky lets the rain follow. Mandy eyes a particularly juicy droplet as it falls onto her outstretched hand. It runs off her, and dribbles down into the water below. The ripples created by the rain are captivating, and Mandy almost forgets herself. An explosion from behind her assures her that her troubles are coming closer, so she continues on.

As the rain begins to harshen, she can scarcely hear the atrocities going on behind her. With each step, she reminds herself that she must never look behind, or they’ll catch her. Breaking into a run – extremely difficult when wading through water – Mandy uses her last ounce of energy to push on, desperate to escape. Normally safe and comfortable in the river, Mandy now feels the water weighing her down, clutching at her feet with each footstep. Does it want to prevent me from escaping? Mandy starts to slow down, as she approaches the end of the river, which leads straight down into the water-collector below. Having no choice, Mandy heaves herself out of the water, scanning the distance for any sign of help, or a house that she can stay in. Seeing nothing but tall, towering trees and forests in sight, she turns around slowly.

Never look behind, Mandy tuts, however she ignores herself, turning to face the events that have been unfolding behind her. She should have listened to herself whilst she has the chance.

Looking back on the town of Jacksonville, Mandy can hardly recognise it. Against the grey skies, there are flashes of red and yellow – almost like fireworks – and orange flames lick up the side of the houses, engulfing them whole. Scaling the river, Mandy realises she hasn’t walked very far at all, although it had felt like years at the time. She stands rooted to the spot, transfixed, as she watches her town be destroyed by the fire and explosions. Weirdly, she doesn’t feel too saddened; although that might just be the shock taking over her body. And even when the soldiers, cladded in black and grey, are racing towards her, weapons held high, she doesn’t feel anything.

Numb. That’s all I feel.

Stepping back into the water, she closes her eyes tightly, steeling herself. Surprisingly, the water holds her hand, and the loneliness she has always experienced subsides. In that moment, it’s just her and the river, bracing themselves for the attack from the soldiers.

I should have listened: Never look behind, that’s what they always say. In an instant, the thoughts stop swirling around her mind, and her breathing ceases to nothing, as the soldiers reach her.