Sparks of light- blue and green- fly across the sky. There is thunder and lightning as the sky bubbles like a witch’s broth. There are black dots flying past as witches cackle in the distance. The rocky horizon embraces the setting sun, it hold growing tighter as it sinks below the outline. The sky grows darker as the flying dots come closer. Closer and closer they come, bringing their stench, their dejection nearer.
A flash of lightening brings light to the despair and darkness. The dots- or small figures as they are now- are closer. The blaze remains in the sky frightening the flying figures away from me. They are unprepared to leave. One witch- as she can see her now- shouts at her- an inaudible mumble of words. But she know the peril hasn’t passed. she wait. And she wait some more. But the witches don’t return and she grow sleepy staring at the dark sky glittering with clusters of stars, galaxies, and universes all staring down at me. The blaze is still there- it’s light protecting her from danger, its warmth giving her a sense of reassurance that she was not alone. It was still there just not as bright.
I decided to go to sleep. For the first time she looked under her feet. Sand surrounded me, its warmth inviting her to lay her heavy head on it. There was a cliff behind her in the distance. she thought she saw a reflection- a small light, but it was gone before she could be sure. All she knew was some was watching over me. she bent down to lay her head on the sand. Just as she closed her eyes felt something wet. she opened her eyes just to realise it was all a dream.
But it had felt so real. So petrifying.
A beautiful tweet from outside and she knew she was safe. Who could hurt her when she was standing in the most beautiful spot in the world? Outside herwindow a long patches of green fields- in all shades- stretched out in front of me. The olive green fields dotted between the summery greens. Beyond the fields was the lining of Trees. The entrance to the forests. The thing that separated her from the dangerous forest with its deathly animals and terrifyingly precarious Trees. But she never went on that side. All she wanted was here for me.
Another tweet and she knew that she had to get on with her day. First she walked up to the basin, filling it up with cold aqua that took her breath away as she washed her face. she rinsed her mouth with some aqua, then brushing away the morning breath. she used an old towel that had been white but now its colour was musky. Although it was old it still felt soft and refreshing to her skin.
Then she walked across to the door of her small hut. The plain floor felt cold to her bare feet, each step like walking on ice. A small shudder quivered her body. Every small action felt cold. Opening the door, she was greeted with a blast of freezing air, its embrace choking the air out of her lungs. But a warm sight greeted her eye. A small wicker basket lay at her feet. she had left it out the night before. And now it was filled with food. The warm smell of the bread vanquished the cold. Next to the bread were six eggs. Four in one cluster and two separately, shaped like a smiley face gleaming with amiability. There were pieces of asparaguses that formed the hair on this little person. Each petite baton of the vegetable shone in the bright sunlight. There was a small cube of butter sat on the middle of the bread, acting like a little nose. she picked up the basket by its tight woven handle, carefully pacing it on one of the few articles in the house- a large mahogany table. The table was shiny and beautiful with the most delicate border. It snaked around the edges. However it was the only part of the table that reflected the mistakes made along its making. There were discontinuities in the border, in different shapes, some large some small.
The basket felt out of place on the table, its smallness enflamed into making it look miniscule. she walked to the ancient stove, a part of the house that had existed before she started living there. The burnt insides echoed the aeons of people living there. It spooked her to think that someone had shared the home that she lived in. they had lived there like me, and died there like she would. The idea of being confined to one space scared her more than the idea of death. she wanted to see the outside world. Experience its joys its. But the Trees stopped her from going further.
I picked up fifteen pieces of wood- all different sizes and arranged them so the smallest would be on the surface. she lit the matchstick but as soon as it touched the wood it died. she looked around for some more kindling but there was none. she stepped outside to go to the outhouse- a brick building containing all the firewood. It too like the basket refilled itself mystically. she walked in to the building. Its musty smell made her nauseous like she had smelt it when she was small. It was a foggy memory that she had and she couldn’t really remember it but she know that there was another thing in her life when she was small taking care of me.