The Wings Of A Caged Bird | First Draft

chapter 54: good memories, bad memories

A long time passes, and I still don't see an end to the field.

The anxiety returns, my heartbeats becoming faster. I never realized how bad my sense of direction is. I call July's name again. The sunrays are becoming more inclined every passing minute. The flowers that felt like a spellbinding blanket of nature a while ago now feel suffocating for how closely packed they are, how they don't let me see much beyond a metre.

I don't know for how long I walk, but my panic-stricken mind thinks it's been very long indeed. My legs start to ache, sweat dripping down my temple. Then I stop walking. Maybe it's better if I stay in one place and wait for someone to find me. Surely July will.

So I wait. And wait. And wait.

It's as if an eternity passes. And as I'm standing there, in the middle of the vast, dense sunflower field, I feel the sharp claws of utter loneliness gnawing at my skin. This is a loneliness different than the one left by Dawn. It's the loneliness that reminds you of a possibility that when you die, there will be no one around you to know that you're gone, no one to call you and realize something is wrong when every call goes to voicemail, no one to ring your doorbell to come meet you and wonder if you went on a vacation. And your body will just lie there, lifeless, rotting away pathetically, being acknowledged only when the odour alerts neighbours. And the funeral hall, it will be deserted, like it was for Jay Gatsby.

It's so terrifying.

No, I can't let these thoughts paralyze me. I should keep walking. If I keep moving ahead, there is bound to be an end to this field, at some point, no matter how long it is. Surely I won't be stuck here forever. Surely it will pass.

So I start moving again, this time faster. I move the plants to both sides to make way, not stopping, nor hesitating.

And sure enough, I soon start to see the end of the field, as the flowers become smaller and less denser, and the lake peeks in between the leaves. Relief washes over me as I run the last few steps.

Finally out of the cramped field and into the open, I let out a loud exhale. This is probably the other end of the garden, a small grassy space between it and the lake. I realize my heart is still pounding wildly against my chest. The boats I saw earlier are now replaced by a different set of boats. The sun, too, is closer to the surface now.

"Cedar!"

I turn back, to find July rushing out of the garden, a look of panic in his face. He runs up to me. "I've been looking for your everywhere! I thought you got lost and I was- are you okay?"

Without a word, I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tightly. His hand comes up to caress my back. I feel overwhelmed with a complex mesh of emotions, but I console myself, It's okay, I'm out, I'm safe now.

"Were you scared?" July asks when I bury my face into his shoulder. "I'm here now. Sorry, I shouldn't have ran ahead."

I pull away and shake my head. "This place is too big and dense."

"But you still found your way out by yourself." He smiles. "And you're okay now, right?" He takes my hand. "Your hand has gone cold."

"I'm fine." I take some deep breaths to fully calm down.

"Okay, then let's sit down. Oh wait! You stay here, I'll be back in a bit."

"Okay."

So I sit down comfortably. Surprisingly enough, there are no people here. I can see the main road in the distance, and the bridge that runs over the lake.

A few seconds later, I hear, "Hey, sweetheart!"

I turn my face back. There he is, standing with a sunflower in his arms, it's stem half-broken, but its leaves blowing lightly in the wind. He has a bright smile on his face, as though he has found a treasure. Bathed at the golden rays of the sun, that smile spreads light by itself. And as the sunflower faces him, so do I, both of us starstruck by his beauty.