Whispers in the winter

I skate to feel. To feel the air and the Earth, and absorb the summer’s vibrant hue. Skating is my dance, my inner serenity, you could say. I push forward on the paved road, passing by all the colorful blurs that once were people, watching the sun peek in and out from the trees, like a toddler playing peek-a-boo. I notice how strangely vacant the road is. Even as I get closer to the main part of town, the road remains clear. I shake the thought off and the winds pick up. Not so much that I have to slow down, but I shut my eyes- just for a second.

Movies always describe falling as another kind of flying, it’s relaxing and you always have a soft landing- they lied, it feels like something is dragging me deeper into the darkness and not a lazy drag like an older sibling dragging the younger to the bath it was harsh and urgent, like whatever it was going to bring me down whatever the cost. It’s not painful, really, it’s more like intense pressure on my arms and legs, like they’re scraping against a tight rocky cavern. 

Then it stops, and I fall towards something. Then pure blackness when I hit the ground.

I wake up real slow and relaxed, waiting for the sunlight to leak through my blinds and hit my face, but there’s nothing, just icy darkness. Something thumps on the ground. I turn to see my sticker-covered skateboard. I move closer  to it, flipping it over and spotting the crushed remains of my hearing aid, the bright blue now looking dull.

I swear, but I don’t hear it, all I hear is hums everywhere, monotone- lifeless hums. I feel myself mouth the words, “I’m not scared,” but my body tightens and the silence is long- too long. I want to jump out of my skin and leap back onto my skateboard, to the sun and the empty road.

My eyes flick on like a light switch glued on some kind of complexed design in the black space. I tried to make even the slightest movement with my hands and nothing. Suddenly, the design glows white and carves two door shapes in the darkness. All at once, the ability to move came back with a loud smack to the face from my once comatose hand. I rubbed my cheek, “I pack a lot more of a punch than I thought,” I think slowly approaching the designs, something screams at me, “No, don’t touch them!”, but I don’t listen, not like there’s much else for me to do anyway.

The closer I get, the more I can feel it moving like it’s... breathing- or maybe a heartbeat? 

“Since when do doors have heartbeats?” I run my fingers along one shape when a small white tile appears. I touch it and it multiplies three white tiles, I touch it again, six tiles, nine, twelve, nothing. “Nothing?” I touch it again, “Nothing!” I hit it, “Come on, give me somethin’ here!” I mouth at the abyss.

The ground rumbles, and the tiles spread filling both shapes, one filling with white, the other with purple. Igniting the area in a new blinding white. I clench my eyes shut. When I open them back, I’m standing in front of the white door. The doorway is framed by ice, soft blue swirls of the cold giving it a ghostly hue. I look over at the purple door, its swirls containing entire galaxies; the stars and planets look like polka dots and admitting a low rumble.

My eyes go wide as the door opens revealing clothed trees dressed in pure white, like the snow in fairytales- a wintery place, plagued with dull clouds. Anxiety and fear grab me by the arms and dry my mouth. I can feel the fear in my chest, waiting to take over. It sits there like an angry pitbull prowling me towards anxiety. Still, I take a deep breath, look back at my skateboard, and let out a tired sigh, “Come on,” and we head through the door.

It was as if the trees had frozen in the camera flash, completely covered in the wintry feathers of pure snow. I hold my skateboard close and wait for the cold weather to seep through my thin clothing, for it to suck up any remains of heat from my body, but it doesn’t happens. There’s no shivering- there’s no runny nose, nothing.

Then a burst of lighting illuminates a dull wooden fence above. I clench my skateboard just a little tighter and continue the journey towards it. The boredom flows without a tick or a tock, and the fence is still a blur away. “If only there was less snow,” I mumble to my skateboard, the path seeming to grow longer by the second. When I finally reach the fence, I see how old and worn down it really is. The fence is many shades of brown, having been renewed a piece at a time over the years. It had probably stood there in rain and snow, withstood winter after winter. In a way, it was part of the landscape. 

It’s strange how the fence seems familiar, like a tree you’d broken a leg on when you were younger; a memory surrounded by pain, but still fond. There’s another flash of lightning in the distance, then I’m on the side of a road, fence still there, standing proud.

“Where am I?” I wonder, watching the cars flow over the road, lights on full beam. I watch how the yellowed yet bright light played in the snow, this avalanche from the sky, in solitary flakes. I take in this peace, this calm for a moment, only a moment. Then there are loud screeches, acrid smells, and screams I wish I could erase from my mind. The way the vehicles smashed against each other like they were nothing, the screams for a loved one that was long gone, and the heavy song from the horn. Knitted tight into my brain. 

I hold myself tighter and cling to the fence like it was my mama bear. I wait for the tears to fall, but they don’t. I’m not sure why. It’s like there’s a blockage. I wouldn’t doubt it. I’ve been through a lot and crying never did me any good.

“Mama?” a voice calls. I look up and search the grim scene for any sign of life. My eyes land on a small shadow in the distance. Without a second thought, I rush over to it. Not caring if my lips are turning blue or if my vision’s getting weaker. It seems like forever. Still, I reach the shadow which has taken the form of a small boy. He’s wearing a bright blue snow coat now ruined with smears of blood. 

“Poor kid,” I think before moving some debris out of the way, “It’s okay- friend” I sign, “Damn, does he even know sign language?” Still, the boy looks up at me. I can see it clearly now; the blood is trickling from his ears, his ebony eyes pink from tears. It feels stupid, but I give him a thumbs up and look around him, seeing if I could find anything to help. My hand grazes by something- I silently pray it isn’t a body part, but when I unfold my hands there it is, that bright blue hearing aid, looking better than ever.