Flightless Bird

Flurries

Foggy images danced along the edges of my consciousness as I tried and tried to wake myself. Violent images of pain and torment filled my mind as I fought the darkness. I was too afraid of never waking up again.

Images of a little blue bird, perched on the knee of a swinging girl filled my periphery, calling me into the void. She was happy, she was free. I knew that if I followed her, all my cares would melt away. But I knew if I did, I would never wake to finish what life had been started.

The blue bird landed upon her finger, and the shadow girl whispered her soft, jovial song to it. Her secrets were left unheard by me, but I could not take my eyes from the moving pendulum.

I pulled back, fearing that the dark of her form was pulling me in. I was too close, the blue bird of my freedom too near. I panicked, I tried to scream, but only cold water met my flooded lungs. Then suddenly, the dream shattered into thousands of tiny fragments, and I was freed.

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I awoke to the hum of the electric bulb overhead, buzzing with dim light in the musty room. My eyes flickered open slowly, focusing on the grimy wall in front of me too slowly.

I felt numb, like the cold had frozen me. I could not figure out where I was.

As I woke slowly, sloth-like, I felt the pain return and the ringing in my ears intensify. I felt every thing at once.

Every cut.

Every tear.

Every bruise.

I gasped in pain, unable to move and unsure of time. I panted there for what seemed an eternity, too afraid to move and discover more pain, or to find that I was paralyzed, or to die if I tried. My muscles were knotted as I allowed myself time to get used to this pain.

Suddenly, I coughed.

I coughed so violently, so harshly that my body seized in pain. Every inch of me reacted as warm blood splattered the filthy concrete I lied on. My body wracked with injury, I finally caught my breath, and tried to slow it to calm my heart.

I was alive, that much was true.

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Eventually, I passed out again after another coughing fit.

This time, the girl had her back to me. She sat on the swing, but did not move. The bird was the only thing that seemed alive, for her statue-like figure was unmoved, still hidden by shadows. I did not linger long this time, as she soon disappeared into the void too, kissing her birdie goodbye.

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The next time I woke, it was to the distant sound of rumbling walls. The faint shudder from the subway in the distance, buried under the streets of New York, had awoken me.

I was much more aware of my surroundings this time, the memories hitting me full force while the pain was now an ever-present ache.

I struggled to sit up, unable to move very quickly as I assessed the movement of every inch of my body. Blood littered the floor and the walls, a horrific sight to be sure. I was numb to it, familiar with such terrible reminders of my existence.

I tested each limb, feeling for any permanent damage. Though I was battered and covered in open wounds, it appeared that nothing was broken besides a rib or two.

I was well enough to go on, it seemed.

I focused all my attention on the next step: standing up.

I took several minutes to sit in the quiet, scary room before I tried to shift to my hands and knees. Every muscle, bone, and tissue of my body disagreed with me and I nearly collapsed as I whimpered on the floor. I was stronger than this though.