Lacuna
(n.) a blank space, a missing part
It’s happening again. It always starts the same way. But I never get to see the end nor the beginning.
It was around the dusk of day. A dismal silence overhung the green interior. Faint strips of the setting sun filtered through the verdurous canopy of the mossy green forest casting an unearthly green-gold luminescence over the detritus. The tall pines and the maple were timeless as they rose gracefully and disappeared into the sky, wreathed in ivy, and their ancient roots gnarled into and out of the dark damp grounds.
Sieves of mist caressed the spore engulfing oaks setting a mystical aura. The quick breath I took in filled me with a raw, earthy scent of wet mud and dewy foliage. The dark forest was astir of life. Something about the wilderness felt familiar. But I couldn’t recall how and why the moisture I felt in my face when the leaves hit my face felt familiar. Or, why the lush, illusory path I saw in front of me looked habitual. Or why the blurred trees seemed as if I passed them too many times, but not enough.
I desperately wanted to know what dark secrets it held. As the verdant trees swept past me in Godspeed, I could barely feel how wet and slippery the grass was. The harsh vegetation harbored wild thorns that left blood dripping down my ankles. The twigs and stones bruised my bare feet complementing the cuts from the sharp grass.
Small insects slammed into my eyes and mouth as I hurtled into the deep. I didn’t see an end. The path seemed to stretch infinitely. I was in my white nightgown and wearing a familiar confusion. But I didn’t have time to think. I couldn’t stop. I was running.
The adrenaline gush was overwhelming. The cold air bit into my lungs as my strides turned to leaps. I discovered how traumatizing the stress and the anxiety I felt, fueled my body. Hot tears of anxiety blinded my vision and all I could hear was the pounding noise of my throbbing heart resonating with my steps. I could feel my knees jostling, ready to give away any second now. I was running frantically, with terror mounting with every step.
That was the fastest I ever ran. My rasping throat was parched and there was bitterness in my mouth. I heard myself wheezing and gasping for air. It was a peculiar sensation to be excruciatingly pained yet unable to stop running. I was terrified. Of what? That I couldn’t recall.
It was fear. It was tormenting as panic surged through my body. I felt it in my bones. I was being chased. Dread twisted in my gut as I kept fighting the rising panic. Whatever was after me, was closing up on me by the second. My body couldn’t take it anymore. I let out a faint little cry, letting out the last of air I held in my chest. It was quite alarmingly saddening how edgy and helpless it sounded. Whatever that was chasing me, now could smell the acrid odor of my sweat dripping down the nape of my neck. I knew I couldn’t make it. Death was here.
I’m not sure if it was my palpitations or the loud gasp for air that woke me up. But I remember as if it was seconds ago, I was running for my life. I sat up on my bed, among the ruffled sheets. I tried to breathe and convince myself it was just another dream. The lights were bright and a floral aroma filled the room. It was calming. I headed to the bathroom. As the warm water ran through my body I felt safe within the tiled bathroom walls, the white porcelain, and the steel. I closed my eyes as I felt my toes curve at the hot water that ran down my legs. I tried not to look at the water, staining a light shade of crimson as it left my feet before disappearing into the drain.
P.S. It’s my first short fiction :)
