Unknown
When I open my eyes, I am surprised to see translucency, cut with pointed edges and secret corners.
After a moment that spans lifetimes, my fleshy little heart begins to drum. Do-DungDo-DungDo-DungDo-Dung. The blood– flooding through my capillaries–clears my vision, but does nothing for my discernment. Feeling a slight tickle at my toes I look down and through squinted lids, I can just barely make it out but, yes – there it is! A puddle of wet forming at my feet, shapeless and warm. I search for the source and find nothing. With immense effort, I attempt to lift my leg in protest. But my body has not yet caught up with my mind and as a consequence, it remains – rooted right where I rediscovered it. I stare at my toes, confused and curious. Another lifetime passes before I start to see the colorless liquid has a pattern; a flow. I feel my synapses spring into action and my vision clears. This thing. It moves in spirals, but also in waves. Teasing. Testing. Teaching. It feels, almost, familiar.
The liquid is now up to my ankles; my toes completely submerged. I look up and around, eyes desperate to find answers. Where am I? What is this? The fogginess that at first clouded my eyes, now moves out and surrounds me. It takes form wherever my sight lands, blurring and obscuring my field of vision. The frustration comes first, then the fear. My fingers begin to wiggle and, inspired, my arm shoots out before me. Fully extended the upright palm connects with a hard, unwavering surface. Glass? Plastic? The texture feels impossible. My mind is a whorl of tornadoes as I struggle to understand. The surface is soft, yet grainy – like marble sandpaper. It gives nothing away, and yet moves as if to make way for my approach. It holds a vibration that tingles and travels through my skin like ice-fire. It makes no sense, but I know that it knows me. Is speaking to me. It’s as if the surface comes alive to warn me – no, challenges me. Activated by the passion of my movements it cautions me away, while also daring me to touch. My other arm obliges like a bull racing towards the red. This time above my head. It, too, comes to a stop. Blocked. And for what feels like the first time my lungs expand fantastically, sucking in air. A box. A fucking box. God, please don’t let this be a cage.
The liquid is at my knees and, for a moment, steals my attention. I can’t feel it yet I know it’s there, echoing the heat of my body. A perfect imitation. It transfixes me, the way that it moves. It changes quickly, rolling thick and slow like jello in one breath and crashing weightlessly against the corners in the next. I can taste the dread. The sour tang – like lemon soaking into an untested tongue – slows my thoughts. What is going on? Who put me here? My mind is amplified. Electric blue waves of energy pulsate out and around as I sway to the rhythm of the wetness, invisible to my own power. Suddenly, I am animated again. My locs bounce with a perceptible delay as my head dances about. My eyes are searching. Racing with the hunger of a lion, desperate for a clue. Hunting for a flaw. The effort only rewards me with more skittish cloud, cementing me on all sides. It goes on forever, in every direction. A soot tinted aura breaks away and settles beneath my skin. The feeling saps the inspiration from my bones. I have never felt such numbness. Such neverending empty. Another burst of blue. There’s still some fight left. As I look out and through to the surface, it shows me things within. I can see eyes, wide and growing wider. A reflection. Mine. I can say it. Those eyes are mine, that much I know.
The heatless wet swirls around my hips. It is determined now. It does not like dissent. The flow has gotten stronger and it rocks me from ball to heel. From out to in. From there to where. I almost fail to follow its movement. My eyes are sharp, however. I catch it as it dances and grinds around my waistline. It does not have a pace. No tempo to be matched. But I learn and I adapt. It moves quickly. I am quick, as well, but it isn’t enough. The wetness surges upward, engulfing me in a pool of mighty nothingness. My fight is fruitless, it’s willpower emboldened. It knows I’m giving in. There is a shift, one final surge and then back again as gravity regains hold. I know this water. I swear I do. The wetness reaches for my neck. Squeeze...release. Teasing. Squeeze...release. Testing. What does it want from me? The tendrils of my thought flail hopelessly as reality sets in. I am losing this fight. Still, I open my mouth to form the words. Squeeze. I am rendered mute. Release. I open my lungs to draw in air. Squeeze. I have none left. Release. The last of the electric blue that was humming just atop my bones is quiet now. I am a body suspended and surrounded. The process can begin.
It hurts, but it’s more than gentle. The grey blur joins in with the wetness and I am utterly consumed. I can’t tell which side is right, and which is down. I think I am scared, but I can’t remember the feeling to name it. I do not move. I try to think back, but there’s nothing to recall. A flash of cobalt zips by, followed by the ghosts of something lost. No memories. Where did they go? Why can’t I remember? What did I even know? The deep cloud clears enough for me to see.
Eyes like citrine. Those eyes reflected, blinking back at you. Beautiful. To whom do they belong?
