Autumn. The air was Always frigid yet optimistic. It brought a crisp, refreshing chill to the air, signalling the arrival of cosy sweaters and vibrant fall foliage. The wind rustled along the pathway, gusting a light breeze within the bushland. Locks of hair escaped from sight and roamed out the window as the wind meddled together solemnly. The autonomous vehicle stopped at the hedge, reaching its terminal - its passenger stepping off, its exhaust creating streaks of opaque steam in return. Soon, it vanished, left to explore the lengths of the world.
High school. Students roam the halls, Navigating their locations. Peers gaze at the teacher, waiting to be taught. Pens and pencils roll around the table excitedly, some escaping from eyesight, never to be retraced. Teachers sit down and gaze at their surroundings, grinning from ear to ear as the students approach. Then, it all grows quiet at the alarming noise of the bell that pierces through the hallway.
Classroom D8. The room remains sombre and still - filled with classmates chattering about anything that appears in their heads - forming a Xenial bond. Pens and pencils move around the page, capturing a world that not everyone will come to know. It is mellow. Then, it all stops. Inferno filters from the inside out, engulfing the once motionless, fragile atmosphere. Untamed flames catch alight inside the room, seemingly painting the vicinity a forecast of catastrophic amber. Beams of smarmy light pierce through the window frame - though, there is no light and even if there was - it is pessimistic - cold. Casts of dense, dominant waves shatter the tempered glass - roaring out from within, wanting to be heard. Glass strikes her body - draining the colour from her olive skin. Her heavy eyes gaze at the scene unfolding before her - it all turns to obsidian - still the sound roars in her ear drums. She feels the world shut out around her in the blink of an eye and she feels herself fall into an endless cave - she tries to scream - tries to call for help. But, she is alone. She sits down in the middle of the deconstructed atmosphere around me, listening as the cries grow louder - injecting fire into her delicate veins, and leaving a fervorous presence within her. Then she wakes up, she opens her eyes and everything is as it was. The teacher is still discussing the lecture, peers are still murmuring and the environment is still mellow.
Escape. Water drips down her admirable flushed face, hosing the catastrophic heat waves remaining inside her. She gazes longingly at the pearl-stained mirror - internalising her present being standing before her. Inferno-filled air pacifies her, tears streaming down her delicate face. She needs to go home, but for what reason? Slowly, she steps foot into “hell” and excuses herself. A doctor's appointment, she says, but she isn’t ill, though it would be a thrill, knowing that was all it was. There she left, and she ran, peers, watching her disappear.
Pacing. The air grows lighter and the waves of coolness replenish the waves of inferno. There, she sits on the calico rock, Emotions pouring over her. Immobilised by fear, breathless from the self-induced symptoms, weakness, from it all. Her heart thumps, beating like a drum still. The autonomous vehicle comes speeding down the slope, arriving at its destination. As she sits down, she ponders outside longingly. She escaped, but there was no monster, just herself, the wind and a sense of defeat.
Reasoning. She sits in the vehicle, the wind stroking her locks of hair. Nothing seems to block out the mindless sense of grief and remorse; she feels as if she lost something important to her, something she maybe never really had control over in the first place. Thoughts race through her thumping brain - her vision blurs, her palms grow heavy and clammy - she does not know why. As the vehicle continues its journey, thoughts of turning back and restarting remain in her head - she does not know why. Though she prevails adamantly, guilt pierces her body. She can only go on from here.
Sovereignty. Crashing onto her quaking bed, tears streaming down her face, she lies motionless. She feels herself stuck in that same cave again, all alone, no monster, just the ambience of grief and loss. Her now pale skin shakes slightly despite no amount of fear existing in her body. Gusts of wind push her sage green curtains towards her, swallowing her, and leaving her with no control. As the day sweeps her away, she lies awake yet lifeless - Yearning for control. The moon casts a pale light over the emptiness in her room, where shadows whisper of memories lost and the silence of the night feels heavy with unspoken sorrows.
I died that day. Well, maybe I didn’t die that day or the days following the sequence of attacks, but pieces of “me” passed, forever gone, never to be found again.