Falling on Your Ankles

The story seems to begin with absolute chaos- but that could be entirely untrue.

Take a walk. All elements- tangible would have met you.

That is- at least for her... more on that later.

Brisk, cold wind,

blinding light,

cloudless,

all met with warm rain.

Leaves and pollen accosting everything and anything, as the maniacal laughter of the wind, sends chills down your spine.

And suddenly, it is black as blood, still as death. Warmth settles like a damp cloud around your ankles, and there it would sit.

And if that doesn't explain that particular season of her life- nothing else will.

Standing at the base of the weighted cloud of her thoughts, they appeared as a dark mass, suspended over her. So, rashly, she decided to start laughing at them instead of feeling laughed at herself. And that is where all of this actually began.

Not amid chaos,

but in a single fleeting moment of clarity-

a sudden knowledge of her desire for a small, soft, smile in the warm, wet, whirlwind at her ankles- a cry for new air. And out of (almost) pure innocence.

And so, she set about laughing. And the change of the seasons filled her lungs and riffled through her hair.

And

honestly- it worked.

Well, that is, at first.

Then, in continuation of the joke, she began giggling on a tangent. And it took an unexpected turn.

She was hesitant- as she always was- and genuinely didn't understand its development.

Chaos sprang up, shaking her again. And the heat around her ankles began rising: past her ribs, to her neck. Its grip around her throat was so firm, in fact, that the only noise that escaped her lips was a gasp of terror. And so she ran, leading to a split-second break in her joke, a crack in her voice. She continued to run, only until it was deafening: the wind cackling in her ears. And then suddenly it stopped. It became oddly quiet. As the silence started seeping forwards, she could feel it surrounding her- encroaching with each lap it took around her.

Heavy breathing,

heart-pounding,

hands shaking,

-these things shook her back to reality. And it wasn't until she was out of the depths of her panic that she realized that it was, in fact, her own heartbeat and labored breathing that was flooding her ears.

And anew, she found herself at the base of the polluted cloud that was her mind. Thus began her second attempted escape: quiet giggles to make herself feel bigger.

And the warmth slowly sank right back down to her ankles.

So- at the base of it all, she chuckled. Oddly enough, she noticed a soft echo in response. And as she continued the joke, as did her new Mockingbird. Upon realizing that she was not alone, she did not know how to hide her terror from whoever was watching. She could feel the echo steadily approaching, and it made her squirm under the dampness around her feet. And as her breathing grew shallower and faster, so did her pace. And suddenly she was flying forwards, running from the heat and the Mockingbird. She ran until she couldn't breathe, and when she tried to gasp for air, she fell- directly, on her ankles, the source of all of the impulsive, irrational decisions.

And so she sat. Bruises began appearing in formation, on her knees and shins, panting, as the air came back into her lungs. The heat was steadily increasing, and she could feel it climbing up past her waist, past her chest, her shoulders, and settling in around her throat. But this time, she screamed, and her panic filled her chest. She writhed in discomfort, knowing full well she was being watched, and she couldn't stand it. Her voice filled the air with unhinged, shivering, dread. As the last notes left her throat, a melody began to drip from her eyes. And her song of yielding shook the entirety of her being, taking every ounce of oxygen from her lungs.

But suddenly, from someplace in the chaos behind her, the Mockingbird repeated the tangent of the joke. And it laughed. She was silent in her protest of its presence. But it repeated the farce once more and snickered. She maintained her solemnity for a few moments more and suddenly found herself smirking silently. And again, the Mockingbird repeated itself and laughed uproariously, similar to that of a child you've just told to be quiet. And this time, much to her surprise, she giggled too.

In all honesty,

the joke had transcended anything she would have ever thought. And so had the Mockingbird.

But that's for another time.