In The Bird Song | TWD

chapter 44 - Unfiltered Abundance

Harlow pov

How long have I been floating here? Water laps at my arms as it carries my body making me feel weightless and ache free. am I drifting or is the sky simply moving? if the former is correct, I must be in a river of some sort. Except how can I be drifting when I can't hear the rush of water? And if I really am in a river, why am I not wet?

With great effort I force my head to the side away from the maybe moving sky so I can look at the dry water beneath me. Strange, the water is green? 'If the water is green, it mustn't really be water at all,' I hear myself think but I struggle to grasp onto the words. all my thoughts feel too slippery like a bar of soap you can never quite get a grip on.

When the explanation does come out from through fog it seems obvious but at the same time not. I am not in water at all, dry or otherwise. I'm in grass, long grass by the looks of it but grass nonetheless. The blades sway in the wind and caress my arm softly wetting them with morning due. Before I can begin to ponder why I am in grass and not a river a muffled crying sounds out faintly through the fog sounding very far away. It's a baby's cries...or at least it was.

But there is no baby here and there is something so very wrong about that. Suddenly I am no longer weightless or perhaps I never was, My chest heaves with the weight sorrow and black spots dot over the world like bleeding blots of ink. I push myself up with shaking arms that moan and groan under the strain.

Once the world is back on its feet, I find that I'm looking at the back of a large house with a shaded patio complete with a lonesome porch swing that creaks helplessly in its solitude. sagging wood steps lead down to a dreary plain of tired downtrodden grass that's framed by neglected flowerbeds who's inhabitants hang their heads in shame, mournful of their nakedness. The whole garden seems to wilt under my scrutiny appearing pitiful in comparison to the polished suburban home with its painted shutters and sunny disposition. I can almost feel the house rejecting its outdoor counterpart like it to knows that ugly things have no place here. And yet here we are.

I turn my head to my other side and let out a breath of relief I didn't know I was holding at the sight of Izzy only a metre away sitting hunched over and picking at the grass sluggishly trying to braid it. posy is at the back end of the garden sniffing at the fence like she is scouting out for week spots which she can potentially exploit if needed.

"Izzy?" I croak causing the little girl to freeze for a second before slowly turning around to look at me ripping out a clump of grass as she does so. Her face is blank but there is something foreboding in her to large eyes that she is yet to fully grow into.

"You wouldn't answer me." she states and I struggle to tell if she is annoyed or not. "I'm sorry love I just...drifted off. I didn't mean to ignore you I promise," I try to smile reassuringly but I know its unconvincing.

Izzy just stares at me for a moment, her eyes calculating, before her shoulders drop and she slowly, almost reluctantly, crawls over to my side. she exhales a heavy breath through her nose before looking me in the eye.

"Netty is with mummy, isn't she." Izzy's voice is forced but not asking. I suck in a breath, I blink at her, I open my mouth only to close it, I blink again, I fumble with her words, they slip away, I pull them back, I swallow, I try to speak.

"I..." whatever I was trying to say dies in my throat. I can't do this. Izzys is looking at me expectantly, her face set save for a barely noticeable quiver racking her bottom lip. She has thought about this, she has accepted this, and she has held herself together so I can break.

"Izzy I-" can't. I just can't.

Im helpless as a single tear runs down her cheek. I can't even get myself to wipe it away, my body wont move.