Within

Go on…you’ll be fine…touch it

The snake’s fangs shut on my hand and suddenly I lay flat on my back. It was dark. No there was light, but it wasn’t lit. Like a night with no moon. How did I get here? Where was my sister? Had that even been my sister? Am I awake? Am I dreaming? I’m scared. I don’t know where I am. Nothing hurts but I remember the bite. Why did I do that? I just – I just –

I’m just so tired.

Oh no. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. I’m dreaming, I have to be, but I don’t think it matters now. I must not shut my eyes. Oh but I’m exhausted. And the heaviness is so warm, so inviting. Maybe…just maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Like falling asleep right? What am I leaving behind? Am I leaving at all? My eyelids drift down. It feels right. But I shouldn’t, I have to wake up. I can’t move anything, every part of me is weighed down. Maybe I could close my eyes for moment…

I’m dying…I think…

But I can’t be because my eyes open again. I’m somewhere different now. The first thing I notice is how utterly quiet it is. The air like a clear fog of nothing, light but somehow oppressing. I sit up and realize I lay on grass bordering a colossal forest. The trees stretched skyward, thick trunks of brown, grey, and silver with an intensely vibrant green foliage that I had to look away from. I tried to remember the darkness and everything before that. It was all a dizzying blur. I’m still me…I think… I looked at my hands. I try to trace my name on my palm – no marks ¬– but the letters don’t seem right. Then a weight shifts near my feet and I look up. A great snake lay coiled in the grass. How had I not seen it before? It was oddly familiar to me. It wasn’t the snake that had bitten me before. I knew that for certain but didn’t know how. There was something about it. Perhaps the iridescent scales shimmering in the light? The wispy tongue constantly tasting the air? I wasn’t scared of the snake. For its own part, it doesn’t attack me, it doesn’t bare its fangs. But the eyes, the eyes scrutinize me.

I speak, “Who are you?”

“I am.” It hisses and lithely unravels its body to slide along the ground, broaching the treeline like a living brook. The snake turns its head to look at me and waits. I gaze at the trees. For what I don’t know. There was no wind to lift the vivid leaves or rustle the many branches of the dense canopy. I look to the snake; it’s still staring at me. I stand up. It slithers into the woods. I follow it without question.

The forest is thick with no discernable path. I should be more nervous but the light filtering in makes the area calming and warm. Odd…I didn’t feel this way in the clearing. I keep pace with the snake’s winding trail through the brush and over roots. It seems intent on getting somewhere. Where? I do not know. I can hear music.

The heavy percussive beats reach my ears first. Bizarrely it doesn’t shatter the silence as much as it blends into it. The music and the absence of it are one in this place. The closer we draw, the more I hear. It is glorious. The high call of flutes and jingling bells. It touches something within me that glows. I barely cast a glance at my companion before taking off to get closer.

A young woman is dancing. She wears a rich purple skirt and top with intricate silver embroidery that glitters in the light. Her feet are adorned with silver bells and silver bangles on her hands. The light catches and she was dazzling. There were words to her music by they didn’t matter. Not really. Not when dancer’s movements spoke all of their own. Each spin. Each kick. She dances with such abandon and joy that it takes me some time to realize that she is alone. There are no musicians to be seen. No audience to watch her performance. I grow sad. No one would see her dance. I don’t count. The snake appears at my hand, “Where is the music coming from?” I ask.

“I am.” It hisses and moves away. I reluctantly follow. One last look. The dancing girl continues.

The snake moves more surely now. Its great head spearing into the growth with purposeful intent. Perhaps it is my imagination – in truth perhaps this is all my imagination – but the forest changes. The trees are the same but different. Faded. Not blurred, just aged. Like a drawing left on a wall for too long. Deeper and deeper into the woods we go. It is getting darker now. I’m not scared. I am uncomfortable. As if I was intruding on someone’s private space. The snake abruptly veers left and leads me down a hidden stone path. The first I’ve seen in the entire wood. My heartbeat speeds up and I am filled anger and trepidation. “We shouldn’t be here. You know that.” Why did I say that?

“I am.” Was all the answer I receive and despite my own words, I keep going too. The last of the light dissipates and the last persevering shred of vibrancy from the forest is lost to the darkness. It seems like we have been walking for hours before a break appears. The sunshine is a distant memory in this place. I’m not sure what was illuminating the area but I can see again but wish I couldn’t.

The glade comprises of dense trees and ribbons of dull ivy creating soft curtains. A thick circular slab of rock stands rooted in the middle, moss and growth making its slow ascent up the sides. The growth underfoot is such that noise is dulled to the barest hum. One might think it is a place for mourning. They would not be wrong. Chained to the rock by its arms and legs, a massive harpy lay bedraggled and beaten. Its face was covered with dark red hair, matted with blood, dirt, and debris while the harpy’s body is shielded from view by its massive crimson wings. The feathers are haphazard or broken or entirely gone in places. Tiny breaths and whimpers escape the tangled mass of flesh and feather. I step closer, drawn out of heartbreak for such a woeful sight. The harpy twitches; one grey and taloned hand draws small patterns on the rock surface. Closer, I can hear other noises as well. Disjointed but still, there is something. Is it singing? I take another step.

Things…I most…ber…and…song…one

I watch the snake slide over to the creature, nudging the head with its own. The harpy raises up a little, hair falling away, wings roused into the air. I gasp. There are slash marks all over it’s face crusted with blood. Its nude body is beaten black and blue and seems incapable of moving even without the chains. The snake flickers its tongue over the harpy’s face, clearing some of the blood away from its wounds. The bound creature moans pitifully, tugging on its shackles.

One more step. The harpy eyes fix on me. It tries to sit up all the while peering at me as if trying to determine whether I was friend or foe. I still had my arms outstretched, “I can help…”

Suddenly it points at me, wheezing and rasping, NO! It seems as though that singular moment of coherency cost the harpy everything. She clasps her neck, coughing and retching and crying. Then. Before my very eyes. A long gash tears up the creature leg. Blood runs out in rivulets. The harpy screams in agony. NO! PLEASE! Vainly trying to save itself from damage already inflicted. Then another cut by an invisible knife, carves open the harpy’s arm. It falls against the stone, shrieking into the surface.

Frozen in shock and horror, I look to the snake. It did not move. It did not speak. The harpy is sobbing but it sees me again. She tries to fling herself at me, snarling a high-pitched keen causing me to stumble back. The restraints make fresh blood trickle from its ankles and wrists. It doesn’t care. Just pulls harder. I can tell. I don’t understand but I am certain. It hates me. I back away. The snake now watches me. It hates me too. What had I done? I do the only thing I could think of. I run. Away from the creature tearing its own flesh to get at me. Away from the snake that deceived me. Away from the dancing girl in her blissful bubble. I must get out of this place. Flee. Fleeing the snake and the harpy, the trees and the music. This was a hateful place. How did I not realize this before? I try to go back the way I came but it only gets darker. Branches whip around me and rocks cut into my feet. I don’t stop. Not once. I had to leave. The forest isn’t letting me go.

Was I dead? Was this hell? Was I dreaming? Was this just an illusion?

Nothing.

I stop. I can’t run anymore. This is it. I’m not scared. How can I be? There is a sense of certainty in defeat. I know the ending. At least I think I do. A small twig snaps from behind and I turn. Perhaps the snake had caught up with me or maybe the harpy had come to claim its kill.

No.

It’s a child. A little girl. No older than four. Her tan skin is pale and ashen, eyes sunken, dark and red-rimmed from tears long past. Her black hair fell to her waist in messy, oily waves. She wears a simple white dress with pink roses with no shoes or socks and holds a doll in one hand. She steps forward and offers her doll to me. A blonde baby doll with blue eyes that blinked and a woolen dress of pink and black. I fall to my knees. I know her.

I take the doll, noticing the dark rash on her arm. She would come to hate her skin. I thumbed the mark, soon the rashes would fade. Only to be replaced with bruises…from herself.

A stray sniffle makes it out of her but she wipes it away. I smile. She would continue to cry without tears. For every dark thought. For every dream that was snatched away. She’d try to so hard to keep it all in…if only she hadn’t gotten so good at it. With a tang of bitterness, I brush the skirt of her dress. She would have to watch while her mother gave away her favourite dress to a distant relative whose name she didn’t even know.

I clutch the doll to my chest. The hard plastic and synthetic hair a welcome feeling. I smooth the woolen dress. Nobody knew what became of the original outfit but it didn’t matter. Her doll was wearing a dress her grandmother crocheted for her. They’d spent hours together. And yet, they would slowly drift apart after a while.

I see it all in painful clarity, too painful. I don’t want to know this. I don’t want to be here. In this place. I want to leave everything and never come back. She knows better than anyone why I can never be here. “Why did you bring me here?”

The little girl cocks her head to one side. She points to my arm. I hadn’t noticed the black ink seeping out from the scratches and cuts the forest had left on me. “You’re dying again.”

“I am.”