THE MUSE | n. mikaelson

i - ophelia

Realising none of this was helping, surrounded by dark and panic, she opened her mouth to scream for help, but no sound escaped her throat, making the girl believe this was just some kind of another nightmare of hers. Why was she in a box if she spent all the time enduring the rough coldness of the water on her skin that was fiercely moving to her lungs? Choking her over and over again?

She, with difficulty, kept on hitting the coffin and to her surprise, it suddenly opened, inflating the lady's lungs with fresher air. Even if the coffin opened, she was still surrounded by the dark, causing her to feel unwelcome. She squinted her frightened eyes, eagerly trying to get used to the dark, unwittingly making her temples pulsate, developing a terrible migraine.

The poor lady slowly sat down and every brittle bone cracked, solemnly announcing she was indeed alive. Her trembling hands hugged her own petite body and squeezed herself as if she had to know this was not a lucid dream. While squeezing the silky fabric of her ruined dress, she exhaled sharply, trying to calm herself down to make her discover some solution.

She slowly stood up, placing her bare feet on a cold, stony ground, which made her shiver even more. This breezy and moist air caused her to feel sleepy, but she could not allow her to fall asleep again and go back to her nightmares. Instead, she focused on the fact that she was smelling the mould in the place that surrounded her, that she felt the rough stone against her feet, that she could feel something else apart from water.

With difficulty, she turned her head around and encountered a tiny light source in the distance, which was behind her. It was undoubtedly her only chance to stay alive. She was walking leisurely and painfully, trying not to fall with each step that she took. She was getting closer to the source of light that was dimmed, making her eyes get used to it faster than she expected to.

A slight breeze reached her calves and small shivers ran down her body, making her grit her teeth together, her hands painfully grasping her fragile body. It was unbelievably silent, but within each step, she could hear the light breeze that was making the leaves shake, creating a melody. She forgot what it was to be alive.

Soon her feet stood on the grass, her hands were holding the stone walls beside her as the full moon shone on her, creating dangerous shadows all around her for her paranoid mind. She didn't know where she was, she didn't know how she was here and she didn't know where to go if she will be able to make it out of here alive.

Suddenly, her mind got alerted again—warmth, she needed warmth to stay alive. Without guidance, without a clear mental state, without anything, her footsteps crunched on the grass as she made her way through the forest. Moving as if she was barely alive, and she was, her lifeless eyes looking forward, as her feet were a bit behind her—she didn't even feel the way of the rough pebbles ripped her skin.

Strangely enough, she felt hopeful—her chapped lips were curved into a small smile that was unnecessary as if she was about to make it. Her mind kept asking her for warmth, stating that water was her worst enemy. She kept on moving forward until she noticed a distant source of light that shined in warm orange, making her halt in her steps.

There, she had to go there. She bitterly gulped to relive the ache in her throat again as she moved past the branches towards the light that was igniting around her, guiding her towards her. Distant voices were overheard and her chest got flooded with panic. What will the people do when they see her like this? What will they do when they see that she didn't die? Will they tie her ankles, won't they?

Tears formed in her eyes, except nothing fell down her cheeks, but her lips trembled as she kept on going forward, trying to mutter out a shout for help, but nothing left her lips. She was damned, cursed in the worst ways.