Surviving Death

Noise filled Marla’s mind. Thousands of voices overlapped in a cacophony of a screaming white roar, crashing around in her head; confusing her senses as she lay frozen in bed in the dead of night. A crushing weight squeezed her chest. She wheezed. Her whistling breath quietly echoed in the still of the room. Panic exploded inside her and the bedroom walls began to close in.

She tried to move her legs but they were stuck. She struggled. Instinctively knowing that if she didn’t fight, she would die. She had seen this before. But never had her nightmare crossed over to her waking world.

Tears stung her eyes as they darted, searching through her wobbly vision in the darkness. She was not ready! Not yet! Not yet… she began to panic as the noise in her head was becoming unbearable. Building and building. She wanted to cover her ears, to shout but she couldn’t move. Her heart thundered and her breathing was laboured. Stars danced at the corner of her eyes as she started to feel light-headed. Electricity flashed over her body and her jaw clamped tight against the pain that was steadily growing. She felt her head preparing to explode. She needed to get it to stop. Now.

Sweat beaded on her brow as she grunted in the effort to move. Underneath the chaos of the screams in her head, she heard a rhythmic ticking followed by a winding up of… something.

It was like a key winding up a music box. But it hurt as it squeezed and pressed the liquid from the jelly of the brain with each painful turn. She imagined the grey goo seeping out of the sockets of her skull. Squeezing her eyes shut, she gritted her teeth against the pain and focused on her breathing. The snapping electricity kept her tied to the spot. She whimpered.

Her knees and her thighs twitched as they struggled to do what her brain was telling them to do. Something held her in its grip; something was controlling her body.

The winding in her ears was excruciating. Sobs escaped from her throat as she lay helpless in bed, her heart in her ears. And then she heard it. Riding on top of the noise.

Panicked shouting above the white chaos, above the pain of the ticking and above the hammering of her heart. Someone was shouting at her. As faint as a whisper but distinctive. Someone was shouting her name.

Marla

The skin on the back of her neck prickled as the temperature in the room dropped. Plunged into the black of silence, and everything stopped. The electric snapping of the currents around her body stopped. The noise in her head stopped. The ticking and winding stopped. All she could hear was the wheezing of her own breath. The silence was tangible. And then she heard it.

Slowly, it slithered into her room. Light as air.

Her eyes, filled with tears, blinked and strained through the darkness. A roar of a scream bubbled in her throat, swelling and turning her neck into grotesque, bulbous shapes as it fought against the containment. Her eyes bulged.

Like a recording starting slowly, the distorted screaming started up again, quickly reaching a crescendo. And amid the insane screaming in her head, amid the shouting of her name, and amid her own heart banging in her ears; a formless white shape hovered in front of her.

As if someone took their finger off the pause button, her body burst into action. She leapt out of bed and ran. Not knowing where she was running to, she ran straight for the front door of her little home, and flew down the dark street of her neighbourhood. Nightdress billowing in the black like a ghost; a white streak streaming in the darkness. Flashing past the bushes and the trees, she ran down the dirt track to nowhere.

And she kept running until her lungs hurt and her heart threatened to burst. The rocks underneath her bare feet poked her painfully, reminding her that she was alive and inappropriately dressed.

A cool breeze calmed her body that was drenched in sweat. The ground, still damp from yesterday's rain, was soft. The fresh smell reminded her again, that she was still very much of the earth; she was very much still alive. Planting her bare feet deeper into the soil, she steadied her heart as the wind caressed her in its warm embrace. The trees whispered reassuringly, telling her it was all okay. It was gone. She was safe and fireflies hummed to calm her heart and she slowed to a walk.

She was near Sister Poll’s house. And despite it being dark, despite there being not a single soul on the road, she could see it. It left an imprint on her eyelids before she was able to get away.

When she was trapped in there, in that room, it had come right up to her face for a moment. It had looked straight into her eyes. It had seen her. And she saw it. Even though it was dark, and even though her mortal eyes didn’t register anything at the time, it registered it now. She saw it now. It was on her eyelids. Like a print. She had been stamped. Maybe marked.

Coming to a halt on the dirt path, she blinked, and it was there. Looking at her. Staring into her eyes. She blinked again to get another look and she recognised it.

What was on her eyelids was the imprint of a face. She took a sharp intake of breath. Her hand flew to her mouth as she collapsed onto the ground in shock. She blinked again and again. Looking closer at the face. For with each blink, the imprint faded more and more until, eventually, the face was gone.

She blinked again, but all she saw was the darkness of the surrounding bush. Crickets buzzed in the undergrowth rooting her to reality. It was gone. But in her heart she knew. She clutched her chest. She had seen it. The imprint. It was a face. She furrowed her brows not understanding what she saw, because the face that she saw was familiar. So familiar. She had seen it everyday. In the mirror. The face she saw… was hers.

Clasping her chest, she stood, breathed deep and raised her face to the black heavens. The cloudless dark sky glared back, swirling diamonds taunted her, reminding her how insignificant she was in the vast universe. The blackness pushed away from her into infinity, dwarfing her existence to that of an annoying gnat. It was dizzying. She blinked, pressed her feet into the cool earth and reminded herself of her place. She belonged. She was home. She was a part of the whole. Part of the world. Nothing could change that. Her heart skipped a beat at the obvious lie. She ignored it and as she steadied herself as she slowly continued to walk in the darkness. It took her a moment before realising that her feet were taking her straight to Sister Poll’s house.

She found her way onto the veranda. Sitting on the steps, she looked out to the path from where she came. Crickets chirped as the sun slowly began to rise in the distance. The sky was still a deep blue but soon the world would crack like an egg, spilling colour all over the horizon before the sun seeped into everything that was green and lush. And alive.

Marla knew what was happening. Residual chest pain still clung to her. She rubbed the sore spot. God was playing. He had to be. She chuckled humorlessly at his humour, as despair filled her heart. Life was so vibrant, so colourful, seemed so constant.

Peering into the direction she came, she could sense it was still there. She would not outrun it. She would not escape. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she knew that nothing was in this world without God’s permission. Placing her hand over her heart, she calmed herself. She couldn’t outrun it, but it was not here. It was not now.

Squinting, she searched for it in the distance. She tried to see if she could feel it. And she did. Lurking in the peripheral. It had started.

Sister Poll knew all about these things. If anyone could help, she could. Her eyes took in the charms that hung on her veranda that were giving off a homely twinkling sound as the wind reminded her that it was still there. On her side. She grimaced. Did God place himself opposite her now? Was she being fed to the wolves?

She listened to the silence that chattered back. There were frogs in the nearby river. They whistled and bellowed in the distance. She could hear the river reeds submitting as the warm breeze bowed their heads. And although the world was alive and vocal, God was silent in her pain.

Maybe it wasn’t him after all. Maybe it was something deeper. Darker. More sinister. Maybe… She rubbed her aching chest again, and breathed deeply. Her breathing still whistled. The memory of the crushing weight was still close.

Sister Poll would know what was going on. Sister Poll would know what she should do. With all the magic protection of animal bones and all her life experience, she should be safe. Sister Poll knew of Obeah. She knew protection spells. She would be safe. She caressed her heart again reassuring herself that everything would be okay. She would be safe.

From God? The voice inside her said mockingly. Her heart sank. This was not God, she told herself. It couldn’t be. It must be something else. Something with her face.

She closed her eyes and was still. And while she listened to the voice of the world, she heard the white noise in her head climbing in the distance, it had begun again, winding and ticking… Snapping her eyes open, she told it quite firmly. Not now. Not yet. To her surprise, it held back. She could feel it in the corner of her mind. Waiting. She had time, but it was limited. Marla breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed her aching chest again.

She sat on the steps of the veranda watching the world wake up, one eye on the earthy path that led to her home, one eye on where she saw it last; where she saw it first. The thing with her face. She would need to figure out what it all meant.

Blue and pink had begun to seep into the sky, creating shadows under wispy clouds. Trees and bushes, touched by the heavens began to awaken to the bright greens and deep blues that chased back the black. The night noises were fading like fireflies as the soundtrack of the morning was beginning. Marla was determined to stay awake and keep the monster at bay. She would need the light to survive. She would need Sister Poll to wake up. She would need the fire of the world at her fingertips if she even hoped to stand a chance in this fight.

Marla

She heard again whisper her name. The same voice as before, but this time, it was floating on the breeze, wafting in as if harmless. Reminding her that it was still there. She touched her heart instinctively. It was pounding. Out of place. Out of time. And as she closed her eyes, she opened her mind and peered inside.

Deep inside, she could see it. A dark spot in the blood red of her heart. She was marked. Her days were numbered. Her heart flamed to life in panic as she heard the faint ticking, mocking her in her head. She breathed deep and stroked her chest, calming herself.

Just then, the front screen door opened. Sister Poll stared at her sitting on the steps. Her old eyes set, her toothless mouth in a determined line. She sighed, looked up to the heavens with her aged milky-blue eyes, then gestured for Marla to come in. She had seen this day coming. Marla's fight had finally begun.