The Lost Souls

Down the Rabbit Hole

 The waves are crashing, beating against my ears. It's different this time. I'm not on the edge of the cliff, I'm drifting towards it. I'm almost floating through the shadows of trees, twigs which poke out are jabbing me at my ghostly white arms. I can only move forward, I can't  turn my head to look back at where I came from.

Where am I? It feels different. Something has changed. Something important. The chill attacks me, it almost feels real. It feels very real. Goosebumps patter my skin like a cobblestoned road. It hasn't rained yet. That's strange. The cloud above me seems to move at the same time as I do, it looks ready to burst at the seams. But it should have already. It always rains, and I'm always at the edge of the cliff, on tip toes ready to end everything. What's happening? Why is nothing going right?

It feels real. Everything around me is so vivid. This isn't a dream. It can't be. The leaves are brushing against my arms; the dirt is caking my feet. I'm in the dark of the forest, late at night when I should be asleep in my bed. I need to get home. None of this is going right.

I feel fear. Quivering inside me, wobbling against my organs and taking over my body. It's rooted deep, as deep as you can go. It's cold and damp, like how it would feel to wear a wet sock. I'm scared. I'm alone. I'm terrified. It wasn't like this before, I was at peace. I wanted it. Something has changed. None of this feels right, it doesn't make sense.

There is a gravitational pull, pulling me through tangles of forest that scratch my face and tear it. I can feel blood seeping out of my cheeks. There is a rope, snug around my waist, coiling and knotting around trunks of trees. It protrudes from my stomach, stretching my insides as it pulls me forward. It's bright red, like the colour of blood. The only visible colour. It pinches me from the inside; tugging me forward with all the force it can muster. After a while, I give up fighting it, letting it pull me forward even though it moves at a speed which makes me trip over my own feet. Dirt kicks up in the process; at one point my shoulder knocks violently into the side of a tree.

Thunder rumbles overhead, like the deep, low growl of a wild animal, an agitated predator. The fear shakes me from the inside, spreading across my skin and creating a lump in my throat. The trees are beginning to part, divided and opening. I don't want to go outside. I'm afraid. I feel safer being covered by the gloom of branches than out in the open with no one to protect me.

Yanked forward, I reach the outskirts of the cliff, greeted by jagged rocks cutting at my skin. But someone has already beaten me to it. There is a person, standing there, more at peace than I am. Standing so close to edge, Â just one push away from the great fall. The rope has settled, dipping lower than where it connects to me. I follow it with my eyes, wondering if it extends over the cliff and into the water or if it carries on further.

But it doesn't.

It connects to something else.

Or should I say someone else? That shadow of a person who I can't see at all, the rope of red doesn't go any further than there. I don't want this person to turn around; I don't want to be a part of whoever it is.

The cloud erupts; it waited till it was a colour as close to the night sky as it could be. Fat drops roll into my hair, down my chin and the slope of my nose. Slick and painfully present. Before long, I'm shuddering in the cold. I've been standing here for a long time, and nothing has happened. I get the feeling this scene won't begin unless I play my part. So I walk slowly, the dirt that has turned to mud follows me.

As I walk closer, on slippery jagged floor that could end everything right now, I realise who it is. I don't know whether to feel comforted or horrified. He stands there, so sure. So ready. And I can't help but immediately blame myself. Did I cause this? Did I bring him to his end?

But how? He was different. Confident. Happy. He was sure in a different ways. Does this mean we failed?

I must be doomed. And I have doomed him in the process. I've ruined everything.

My steps become less willing as I come behind him, I don't want to be responsible for the damage that I have caused. I'm afraid. Something terrible is going to happen.

It's pouring now. Hard and fast like it's supposed to, but I don't want it anymore. Everything is falling into place and it can't. Not with him. I don't want to see this. I don't want to be a part of "it. He turns now; I'm met with glassy eyes and a trembling lip. He's cold. It haunts me. That terrible, sad face. It looks unnatural. It sets the scene perfectly but this is not how I wanted to remember him.

What have I done to you?

"You ruined him.' There it is. The next character for the scene. Waiting , watching. Claiming victory of not one soul but two. The voice in my ears which speaks truth. Always there to tell me when I've done wrong and what I deserve for it.

Now I weep. It mixes in with rain from grieving skies. I wonder if he notices, he's still turned to me, his heels hanging off the edge. Like this, it's scarier. It looks like I pushed him to his death. Metaphorically, I did. 

"Jump with me." He whispers. His voice is broken, raspy and complimentary of his chapped lips. He takes me by the shoulders urgently and I see a single tear, only distinguishable because of its size against the raindrops, fall from the corner of his eye travelling down his cheek. "Let's end it all."

"Together."

An unstoppable storm passes by in the night. I'm awake to hear it because of a nightmare. The dark scares me; I hide under sweaty covers because I don't want the lack of light to play tricks on me. I look at my sad window, avoiding the feeling of shadows creeping over my head. As I close my eyes again in an effort to sleep, glassy eyes and a broken face appear.

- 

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