The Walls That Hold, And Break

Inspired by the My Secret Friend video by IAMX and Imogen Heap.

I had a dream this night, as I have every night. Every single night I am visited by the same frustrating, hindering dream.

There we are, in darkness and shadow, only small glimmers of light available through unknown sources. It all smells of age, dust, and tears. Old pieces of memories in the form of small toys and shreds of rubble were laid upon handsome wooden beaurus.

I can sense her, though my eyes were always so ungrateful to see only glimpses of her. As if a camera was on her wall, I caught site of her and the room. She took up not but a sliver of shadow inside it, even though her head nearly scraped the ceiling when stood up strait, or so it seemed to me.

She sits upon the cold floor, tearing at her dark grey suit, her elegant head swaying from side to in grief unknown to me.

Was it also my pain she was feeling? Was empathy giving us both a bitter gift: to feel each others' agony?

I felt only longing. Not hunger, thirst, or tiredness. I hungered only for her, I thirsted for her touch, and I tired in my endless search for a way through to her.

Every night I had this dream. Every night I fell to bed, buried in my life's work, falling apart as it was created. And for it all, I never was to see her next to me.

This night was the same it seemed. However, something felt less heavy this time. A gentle breeze caressed my thighs. Where it came from I hadn't an idea. I looked around, my pink fabric fluttering around me. I lifted the ripped veil that fell over my eyes to better see. I glimpsed something, far away it appeared.

It was however just a few feet away. I saw it now. It had not been there before, on any of the nights previous. My heart pumped under the thin skin that held it inside me.

I reached a slim finger out and ran it down the cold, dry wall. My finger caved in every so slightly, and this told me that there was the smallest of cracks there.

Then, before my eyes, light poured in every so slowly from the vein in the wall. Light flowed out like it had substance. I floated forward, leveled myself with it, and looked beyond.

My eyelids flinched as I saw a bright ray of artificial light coming from a large, wide gash in the ceiling of the room. It shined down onto the side of a median, a large concrete beam wider than me. Against it was wooden rubble, and besides those were a few scattered chairs and chunks of rock.

And there!

It was her.

The pointed shoulders of a suit one would wear to a wedding, yet faded with time, draped around sharp, wide shoulders. Black, reedy hair fell barely past her ears, and upright lips, thick and pronounce, were only slightly visible in the uneven lighting.

She sat in a small char, silent and unmoving except for small breaths that I could swear I almost heard.

My finger fell through the gap in the wall and grasped it. How I wished I could turn the wall to willow branches and pull it apart, allowing me access.

It is easy to explain why I was frustrated, but hard to explain what for. I wanted to get inside that room; I had been denied it all these long nights. I wondered that if I had opened my eyes a bit wider if I might have seen the crack sooner, or it may have appeared in shorter time. This thought angered me.

I did not know her, yet I felt as if through her veins pumped my blood, and through her traveled my breath through her lungs.

I wanted her in my arms. Pressed against me. Just the thought of feeling her next to me chills of anticipation.

And yet, I was terrified. Horribly afraid of her. Yet, Innocently in love with somebody whose face I had never seen, whose voice I had never heard.

Suddenly, a noise so loud and startling that it sent me backwards onto the floor broke the silence. A scream, from her throat. It was agonizing, and agonized. It was as if the whole world exploded in my skull, and I writhed on the cold concrete, my mouth gaping in the shape of a yell that never made it out.  

When the room had stopped spinning, I got to my feet. I glanced back through the crack, not yet noticing that it had gotten bigger. I saw her body, bent backwards over the spine of the chair she was sitting in.

My lips parted with confusion, and I shivered with a sudden freeze. What if she was afraid of me? Or worse, angered by my existence. Had that been the reason for her vocal expulsion?

Or was it simply her sorrow, an unknown aliment torturing her? 

I stood there, unsure of what I wanted to do. Waking up seemed almost appropriate. Almost....

....Had it not been for her elegant head turning in a flash sideways, nearly dislodging itself from her neck.

Her lips formed words I could not understand.

She raised a hand, bony knuckles accentuated in the shadowy ambience, as if she was asking for mine in a dance.

My body remained statue like, my lips still parted, my eyes wide as they could get without falling out of their sockets.

It was then that my eyes shifted sideways and caught site of the wall. The crack of light had melted into a large section, spanning half of the entire wall. The woodwork was catching the light from her room, shining like a brown skeleton. There was no insulation or wires, just bars.

I saw her watching it as even now the rest of the paint and wallpaper curled upon itself and fell as whisps of dust to the floor.

I swiped the remains from my gown, and I saw her rise up out of the corner of my eye. I watched as she took three steps forward, then stopped.

She raised her hand and flicked off the wrist of the suit. She moved forward, ever slowly, and touched her fingertips to the crack. She felt along it, down, then back up.

I reached my hand out as well, as if I had waited for this moment my entire life. I moved it into the opening, and kept it still.

Her fingers brushed against mine and ceased their movement. Her appendages began to shake violently, and I could feel that her skin was warmer than fire.

As if suddenly frightened by me, she stepped back and threw herself against her wall and threw her fingers into her hair, wrenching it.

My breathing was hurting me as blood hammered against my brain.

I wanted to save her, to help her, to kneel beside her.  

A silence longer than I could stand was set in place.

I finally reached my arm through the crack and let it droop longingly. I could almost have fit my other one through if I had tried.

She stood still as death once again, but when I began to question if she was even alive, I felt a dark, menacing energy. I retracted my arm and felt my fear rising once more.

It happened so quick I couldn't react: she leaned down and grabbed one of the dust-covered chairs beside her, arched her entire body backwards, and rushed at me. I choked on my own tongue and lunged sideways. Just as I felt my back collide painfully with another wall, the one in front of me was broken through. Wood pieces flew away from it, and a cloud of dust flowed out.

I stared through it, the sharp flecks of wood debris burning my pupils, and saw the chair laying on the floor beside one of the beaurus. Where was she?

I got to my feet for the second time, and walked slowly in front of the destroyed wall. She was back against the other wall in her room, staring forward in what could only be fear and adrenaline.

I was compelled by a sudden bravery. I stepped down into the room.

I walked a slow semi-circle around her, and my wide eyes fell upon hers for the first time. She looked sad, ashamed even. I followed the curve of her jaw with my eyes, traced the arches of her lips, then flew back to her eyes.

I stopped. Life froze.

So many nights of wanting, wishing, hoping. And now I was with her. But this is not how I had wanted it to be. I wanted to sob with the idea that she hated me, or feared me. I feared her, but all I ever wished for was to see her, embrace her, tell her I was unsure of my love but knew it to be strong.

And all for what?

I would simply wake up back in my bed, sweating profusely, the sound of my stupid alarm clock humming angrily at me to awaken.

I would not have her in my arms, nor anywhere within my site. She was an illusion of my tortured imagination. And yet I loved her.

After a minute or so I noticed that across from me the room was torn away, and beyond it was a raining world. It was nighttime, and a furiously pounding river lay below.

Glancing at her, I walked over to it, compelled by curiosity. I watched in awe of the water's powerful rage. I was lost in its beauty and danger, and did not regard my footing.

The world began to warp and darken. Cold air hit me like blades.

As soon as I realized I was falling, I was already engulfed in the roaring water, thrashing my arms, water in my mouth.

Death would be upon me in the form of crashing waves and lack of oxygen.

My eyes flickered with the image of her, standing at the edge of the broken room. A dark shadow that seemed unmoving.

But then, I felt something constricting my ribcage. It was a long, dark arm. It grasped me as one would maintain a chokehold. I could feel air hitting my tongue, and craned my neck to look around.

And there she was; holding me above the water, her other arm wrapped around the thick branch of a fallen tree, blessfully stuck against the water.

I felt her strength as she carried us against the current, my life slipping away with weakness.

If this was to be the end, then when I woke up at least I could continue dreaming the same dream knowing that once, just once, I was cradled within her arms.

 

 

 

 

I had left the dream world. I could feel it.

The pain from what had just happened inside my mind was so real that I actually felt it throbbing through my body.

My chest hurt from heaving breathes, and the cold I was feeling felt so similar to freezing water.

I went to lift myself to stand, but my hand his something cold and wet.

I gazed downwards, and saw reeds of dark green grass weaving through my fingers.

What was this? How could a bed of sheets and pillows harbor nature?

I then noticed that I was both cold AND wet. Water droplets ran off my hair, and small puddles formed inside my socks, uncomfortably encircling my toes.

Suddenly, I sensed something in front of me.

I was met with a pair of beautiful brown eyes, with black, smooth hair...thick and pronounced lips...

A gentle, magnificent voice said softly to me, "You were asleep, and you fell from your porch into the water. I swam out to save you. You were asleep until just now".

Staring into the eyes of this woman, my heart stopped ever so briefly.

I saw her eyes slide out of focus, and her lips slowly parted.

The very breeze seemed to halt, the sound of the running water drained to nothing but a whisper.

As if in a trance, she lifted a finger slowly. I followed her gesture.

Our hands touched, then our fingers enclosed each other.

"How is it you?"

"I don't know. But it is, isn't it?"

 

 

Author's Note

This was before I read the interview that Chris Corner gave about what he had in mind with writing the song. I based this short story off of the music video, except for the ending, which I added to finish it up in an interesting fashion. I listened to it the whole time I was writing this. I'd love to know what you think/your interpretation of it.