(Written based on the below line of poetry)
"Through the narrow aisles of pain."- Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Bare feet pounding on the chilly floor, I charged across the tenebrous colossal cave. Each hasty breath I took crashed into my lungs. Turning to see the blue lips and cold eyes chasing me, my voice rasped my throat "Stop!" A face pale as a marble statue smiled back menacingly, holding its familiar grazed arms out at me. A gut wrenching pain of recognition struck my heart as I whirled my head back around, putting every muscle into my sprint.
My face flushed as searing tears of terror washed down my cheeks; my jaw launched into a tremble and was wide open as though someone had attached it to an anvil. As I continued to run, my feet ground small objects beneath them causing me to wince in pain. My mouth managed to shut tightly by now and a metallic taste of blood-tinted the briny tears on my tongue. My cheeks were soaked and heavy. Mucus started clogging up my nose restricting my ability to breathe.
Sudden ribbons of yellow-gold light shone into the cave irregularly but just enough times for me to see the cerulean and white pills inordinately coating the invisible floor from behind my lachrymose eyes. I could finally see.
A surge of hysterical energy and joy took over me.
My feet began to throb and legs started to ache. Despite putting extreme effort into picking each leg up and moving forward being tiresome, I persisted on running. The cave grew dimmer once more. "You're fine!" The voice coming from behind me was at close quarters; my feet were now 100-tonne weights. The narrowing cave hindered my arm movements. An unanticipated rock sliced through my upper arm and I felt my heart rise to my throat –more rocks went for the back of my hand, cheek and neck. Flinch. Wince. Squirm. The death trap was so confined I had to hold in my tummy and tilt my chin upwards to fit through. Holding my breath, I could still hear breathing close by... It was me. The body that had been chasing me so insistently, so consistently, was mine. Briskly, I made my way out of cramped hellhole and into a suspiciously spacious section of the tunnel.
I halted. Bent double and rapidly taking in the air with my hands on my knees, I looked up; an exit lay straight ahead, bright and white. Rising into an assertive posture with increasing hope, I walked ahead gingerly, wounds stinging in the cold atmosphere. As my pace increased, I began to notice thin lines appearing in front of the exit. Worried I had been caged in with metal bars – as I edged closer – I realised there was a nest of snakes hanging from the ceiling that disguised themselves as ropes.
Ropes.
Ropes obstructed my way out. With a churning sickness in my tummy, I resorted to running rather than walking. They wouldn't stop me, would they? I swung my arms out back and forth brushing past the sinewy ropes.
Pounding my knees onto the firm icy floor, I faltered. Disconcerted by my arm getting caught in one of the looped ropes, I forced my - now numb from the cold- fingers to untangle my arms without aggravating my wounds.
It was impossible; the ropes were tightening their grip on my arms like snakes ready to feast on their prey. Panting, I felt drunken and in a haze. I was a worn out addict on the side of a street, slowly shrivelling into a coma... I was blind. "See, you're alright. Just get over it." My voice came from above me, giving me a snigger and a touch on the cheek for reassurance.
For a brief moment, I believed I could leave behind the dissimulated character I was.
After all, you can never escape yourself.