The River
Butterfly eyelids flutter open as a faint breeze caresses my cheeks. Iridescent spirits ride the wind, soaring through spring meadows, skimming wildflowers with pointed toes. I lie on my back amongst the swaying, tall grass in this blessed, abundant landscape, prospering in nature’s rebirth.
Delectable wildflower blooms trace my outline, burning me into the fertile soil, petals catching softly in my long hair. Blinking, I slowly take in the glow, as mother sun paints an infinite brushstroke canvas of every hue and colour. Bright gowns billow above in the April evening like bloody sheets on a washing line. Unearthly dancers lined in haphazard rows leave streaks of silky vapour tendrils across infinite mirror skies. A lone misplaced child’s balloon floats softly towards the river, cradled by the gentle winds.
Delicate, lace gloved hands turn the ornate key in the lock masked by battered ivy, piercing deep into the wall’s hidden clockwork heart. I push through the minuscule oak doorway, as brambles tear at my bare skin like blunt scalpels in the hands of a drunken surgeon, snagging and leaving rough hairline cuts from which angelic tears of blood fall towards the heavens.
I press forwards through briars that victoriously chew upon scraps of lavish clothing, clinging to their forsaken prizes. Down centuries old wilful stairs I go, each step descending further into calculated madness, steadily seeking the river that flows below. For within the plagued, cursed water’s depths lies the secret, said to reflect all past life, long since faded…
The river carries stolen treasures: a lost silver moon locket holding a withered black and white photograph of lovers long gone; battered toys of infants who could not be cured; belongings of victims taken by the cruel clutches of war, their stories forgotten. Each breath increasingly laboured as though reliving each sufferer’s last. Wading deeper into the fathomless, foggy liquid I blossom; feet losing the stability of solid ground, pale petticoats floating and unfurling like lily petals.
The longer I sink the less weight my body holds. Vibrant violet bubbles lace my lungs and float softly from my parted lips with each exhale. Finally, lighter than air, my body embraces the water, dissolving, shedding, fluid and transparent. I fall as warm peach rain upon the meadows where I once lay, forming glassy dewdrops on drooping wildflowers still standing in the shape of my ghostly memory. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. I am reborn.