Inception
Downpour. Heavy and seasoned with the abrupt explosion from above. Light and sound combined to make a powerful blow. With a single pillow on her head and what little space was left for her, caressed by the feeling of safety and the gentle glimmer of the fading candlelight. She, however, did not tremble at the darkness that slowly crept up to her minuscule toes and fingers - instead she welcomed it like the beckoning warmth of familiarity. Innocence created a rhythm out of the cacophony of every raindrop falling upon their tin roof. She felt safe, and soon she fell into a deep sleep. In the cramped mattress, where she lay, and the short blanket futile to keep her whole body from the cold. Beside her was her sister, and then her grandparents, that seemed all too much for her to understand. At that time, she felt whole. Loved. Important.
Now, she stares above. The cream coloured ceiling, and the yellow hue of her lampshade. She lay there in wait for sleep to come to her. Dozens of stuffed animals to keep her company, and soft feathered pillows that should be enough to provide comfort. Sheets upon sheets to shelter her body from the winter cold. Darkness was nowhere to be found now. In a spacious area on which she and only she occupied. A soft bed to hold her aching body and haven for her soul. It did nothing, but welcome the uneasy feeling of loneliness. She felt vulnerable. Alone. Forgotten.
Closing her eyes did little to help her succumb to the lullaby of the night that would soon turn to dawn in the next few minutes. It did open up fragments of memories she thought were long buried in the sands of time.
Within the stronghold of mountain ranges, were the lustrous shades of green she would open her eyes to see, the lurid rays of the sun. Like a gentle kiss from some god she had now ceased to believe in. The soft breeze from the small window opening that whispered tales of yesterday, and what was to come today, rendered useless by the child’s naive ears. The rise of the sun set flames to the calm blue horizon, painted with colours that might have been visible only to her. The call of the rooster signaled the official start of her day, where she would read books whose colours resembled the painting she saw earlier. Thin, like leaf pages that condense a world within them. Filled with wonder and fantasy that would guarantee curiosity from a child her age. A cup for each of the people that resided in her home, that was filled to the brim with a rich brown colour - her and her sister’s was white. Her backpack, contained things she needed for school and the uniform she would need to wear. And when the school bus would stop in front of their house, she would not run nor skip toward it; instead, she would skip. Amusing and almost comedic, it mirrored the joy she felt each time.
The landscape made it difficult for travel but the ups and downs made the journey in the morning more exciting. Fits of giggles and laughter would fill the vehicle, with children like her smiling ear to ear. The mountains created a world of their own. One that she would always hold close to her heart. Of course it wouldn’t always be like this. Nevertheless, it was certain that she felt content.
Such appreciation and excitement for a single morning surprises her now. The woman would open her eyes to rows and rows of white houses, with the brutal cold of the night still lingering. Nearly twelve summers had passed, and the sun no longer emits rays of colours. The sky looked bleak and empty as she would walk to school, accompanied by the howling winter air. Books that now were her only escape from the misery of her reality. Worlds within worlds she yearns to trod and hopefully get lost in. The woman goes on with her day with measly minutes of rest - hours if she’s lucky - and the rich brown drink on her hand. Crippled by fear of tomorrow and mistakes of the past.
As she continues to walk on solid, flat ground, she remembers the landscape. Her home now out of reach, and with it each emotion embedded into it.
That child is now a woman.
