The Vision

This is a piece I had to write for one of my modules, Experiments In Writing - we've been creating fictional 'blog' characters, complete with life history, interests etc and a specific 'trauma' which occured in their past life. For this exercise, we had t

 

My feet are wet. I can feel it, but I don’t look down. It’s cold – and it’s not till the mist clears that I realise I’m standing in a garden. The grass is soaked with dew. That would explain the feet.

          All around me the grass is shimmering – shimmering, because it’s wet, and there is a white light coming from somewhere. Is it the sun? But there isn’t any sun. I don’t know where that light is coming from.

It looks as if there are thousands of tiny crystals, sparkling in the grass. I’m trying to catch a glimpse of each of them, even for a second – but as soon as I get close, they disappear again. It’s so frustrating; I know they are there, but they keep getting away!

My feet are so cold. I realise now that my shoes have disappeared. I’m sure I had shoes on before. My trousers are soaking. I can see the water slowing creeping up my legs. Soon, I’ll be drenched all over.

Wait! – A child’s cry! Or was it a bird? I look up, and through the haze I can make out some shapes, floating before me, obscured by the mist. Why is there so much mist? It’s hard to see. I’m squinting. It’s so frustrating. I try to move my arms to force the mist out of the way, but they won’t move. Why won’t they move? This is so irritating.

I blow at the mist, but it still doesn’t move. You can see my breath in the air. The cold is numbing. I can’t imagine being warm again.

Another cry! So piercing, it sends shivers right through me. It sounds so distant, and yet so close! If only I could reach out for it, and stifle it with my hands; muffle it until it can’t scream anymore…

I’m starting to panic. I can’t move, and the cry is tormenting me.

Lottie!

It’s Lottie, she’s crying for me! But I can’t move.

I try to call out to her – but no sound comes from my mouth! I try so desperately to cry out that I strain my throat till it burns; but still nothing. Now I’m getting frightened.

The mist is clearing. Something is driving it away. Is it the wind? There it is – the iciest wind you can imagine, cutting through you like a knife to the bone. That’s how it feels.

Now the mist has thinned, I notice that the garden is fairly large. But all I can see is grass, stretching out for eternity – and these darned crystals! drifting around me in an emerald ocean, gliding between the waves. Why do they keep hiding from me! I keep losing them! It is infuriating. Soon they will drown.

There is a shape ahead of me. A tall shape – I’m moving towards it – but how am I moving towards it? I’m not moving… I can’t move. Or is it moving towards me?

But it’s a tree!

Trees can’t move. Not by themselves.

It’s huge, thick with olive leaves and towering over me. I gaze upwards to see it extending above me forever. I have an urge to climb it, but I can’t move. How frustrating, I wish I could move.

The leaves rustle lightly in the breeze. It’s so peaceful here; I could stay here and listen forever. It’s like summer – but yet it’s so cold. That’s very confusing; it being so cold yet there are so many leaves.

I don’t worry anymore about that cry. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Lottie will be ok, I’m sure – yet if she isn’t, it’ll be all my fault! There is no one else around to see to her!

But I’m so happy standing here by myself. I don’t want to leave the tree.

I really want to touch it. I could sit under it and go to sleep there. It looks so comfortable; I wouldn’t need to get up at all. I could be alone, under this tree, just me.

A powerful burst of wind, and the leaves shake violently. I’m suddenly aware of my gaze, directed towards a spot amidst the branches – there’s something in the tree; a dark blemish, floating amidst the greenery – There’s something swinging from the tree!

Suddenly, I am arrested with a horror that makes my blood run cold. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. I want to run, but my legs won’t move. I can’t take my eyes of that shape, hanging lifelessly from the braches. A dark stain amidst the leaves; limp, swayed by the force of the wind.

I hear a blaring scream. This time it’s so close! It’s right in my ear, slicing through the air and piercing me like a dagger to the heart. Don’t let her see it – don’t let Lottie see it! I’m trying to cry out, but I still can’t. Terror seizes me. Where is she? Don’t let her see the body! Please don’t see the body!

There is a loud thud. I stare in horror; the body has dropped from the tree. It lies in a heap, like a pile of rags, under the tree – under that very tree where I wanted to sit.

I feel sick. Somewhere buried deep within me lies an impulse, a desire, an intense longing to go over and pick up the body, to nurse it, to love it –Yet I am horrified, repulsed, filled with dread. The body is disgusting, it’s drained of life, it’s horrific, it’s dead.

Suddenly, a girl throws herself upon me from out of the mist – She’s howling, screaming – her black eyes gaze at me, penetrate me; her face is white – terrifying! She’s thrashing me, beating me, cursing me. I’m trying to sooth her, to call out her name, to make her understand, to make her see! – But she’s already seen the body. She’s shrieking. The screams are ear-piercing. I’m screaming, screaming – if only she could hear me screaming –

        I awake suddenly, in a cold sweat.

Reviews

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This is an interesting little scene here. It could fit well in a longer work where more of a story is developed around it. Having a surrounding story would also help to bring out themes in this episode as well. With that idea, there is still some work to be done with just this section. Overall, I would look for better images. Drops of water as crystals is a really overused image. Maybe try shards of shattered glass. That way it engages the reader more, not being a connection that is normally made. I'm not saying mine suggestion is all that great, but it's a little different and something to think about. There are other moments that are like that one. "Like a knife to the bone" is another one that you use that everyone already knows. When you look for more original images, it grabs the reader's attention more and also gets your image across better. It will stick in their minds. Along the same lines as knives, you use the same kind of image later with "like a dagger to the heart." Though this last one is also overused, it's also too similar to the previous image, and give the prose a repetitive feel that doesn't fit with the story. There was also some confusion about the mist at the beginning. It said it cleared, and then it was still around and the character could not see through it, or something like that. Just a little clarification there. The later stuff about the mist fits well. The story has an interesting mix of realism along with the fanciful, which I think works well. Overall it was a fun read and just needs a little clean up. It would be nice to see a larger story come out of this.