Alive

The moon was nearly full as she ran barefoot through the forest. The slap of her feet against the forest floor rose to match her thrumming heartbeat. There was no one chasing her but she had to get away, away, away. But to where? Anywhere else but here was fine with her.

Even with the moonlight, it was hard to see a few feet in front of her. The dense foliage of the surrounding trees blanketed her in oppressive darkness. She was vaguely aware of the coolness of the grass beneath her toes, in sharp contrast with her burning lungs, but those sensations felt distant. They were secondary to the needle-like points of her fractured soul beneath her skin.

Near a particular thick tree, her foot snagged on a root. The woods tipped on their side as her body was flung forward. She reached her forearms in front of her to break her fall. The forest fell silent again.

Now that she wasn’t running, the pain was unbearable. She bore no outward marks aside from cuts and snags from the thorny bushes and bramble, but she felt as if her innards were being shredded. She wanted to get up and keep running, but it was as if the last of her strength had seeped from her body. She howled and sobbed trying to force some of the pain outward.

After some time, she fell still. Glorious numbness tingled through her fingers, up through her toes and into her chest. Completely spent, without even the strength to stand, she curled onto her side in the dirt. Her tears soaked into the ground beneath her and her blood leaking through her pants nourished the soil. Now that the screech of her shattered being had subsided she could hear the howl of wolves and the chirp of cicada. She wondered if she might be eaten before she slipped into unconsciousness.

When she woke, the sun had long passed the horizon. The forest floor beneath her cheek was still cool under the shade of the towering oak trees. Rays of light danced across her as the leaves swayed in the gentle breeze. Still she felt no warmth. In her wakefulness the oppressive weight of memory crushed her. Under its force, she could not move.

She did not move. Not as the sun traveled over its peak or as nearby voices called out for her. Not even as a white rabbit sat in front of her, its nose twitching inquisitively at her prone form. It sat there a while, nibbling at the grass and wildflowers. She imagined it to be wondering what she was doing.

I won’t move from here. Not until I draw my last breath. She thought at the rabbit.

It thumped its foot against the ground and twitched its nose at her. The rabbit sat near her, munching thoughtfully until the sky began to turn gold. It turned around and hopped off into a bush, its cotton tail disappearing into the thick bramble. Still, the girl did not move.

This night she was restless. Her dreams were full of shadowy monsters that hunted her down. She stared ahead into the darkness instead. She heard soft footsteps approach her. A nose sniffed near her ear over her head. She heard a deep grumble follow. She reached into her being, searching for fear, but found nothing. Her visitor howled, calling to its family.

Perhaps they’ll eat me. That would at least be faster.

She heard the pads of at least four more, emerging from the forest all around her. They began closing a circle around her, wasting their energy trapping their immobile prey. She waited, but they did not pounce. She strained to hear their movements, unable to see through the darkness. She heard something land in front of her face, and then the sounds of retreating footsteps. Her nose picked up the tangy scent of blood, and the thick warmth of meat. Her stomach roiled.

I will not eat another morsel of food. She thought, growing angry. Why wouldn’t they just eat me?

When dawn came, she lay staring at what might have been a squirrel. She closed her eyes against the gore. Eventually, she heard some animal drag the carcass away. With her eyes closed, she noticed a new feeling through her haze of misery.

Every point of contact her body had with the ground tingled. It felt as if these points pulsed with her energy, going out of her body and into the ground. She felt ants climb around her and worms wriggle in the soil but she didn’t squirm. Finally, she was returning to the earth. Soon the suffering would end. She focused on pressing her life force into the ground. All day, her body grew weaker and she lost sense of the line between her body and the ground.

A day later, she was bearing the end, trickling the last of her broken soul into the ground. She didn’t not have any sense besides feel left, so she was unaware of the leaves falling over her body. They rained down from above as a stubborn crow tore branch after branch from the towering oak, creating a small hole in the canopy. A ray of light pierced through the darkness, onto the girls face.

Her last bit of soul was stubborn, refusing to  leave her chest. Was this all she was? A soul lost in the forest, destined to fade away into nothing. This little part of her didn’t feel that it was fair. But instead of wallowing in the darkness, it spread through her chest. Now the girl almost felt warm. Almost.

Annoyingly, the next day she could see again, the sun glaringly bright. In front of her today was a crow, preening its glossy black feathers, shifting to blue and purple and green. She felt stronger today. Instead of energy flowing out, she felt like it was flowing into her. As if the earth was nourishing her.

The crow noticed her and titled its head, looking at her with a black eye. Move. The crow urged.

I don’t want to. The girl replied.

Then why didn’t you leave? You could have surrendered. You chose not to.

No, I didn’t. The girl grew angry. I just couldn’t.

Why won’t you move? The crow asked.

There is too much pain. The world is cold and cruel.

Are you in pain now? Are you cold?

Yes.

Is that all? The crow pressed.

The girl thought. She wasn’t all cold. In fact, part of her was overly warm; her face was bathed in sunlight. She was still in agony, but she felt part of her that was angry, and a part that was content talking with the bird. It was a distraction. She felt a muscle twitch in her pinky, but lifting it was too much work. She was too tired. She did not dream that night.

The crow sat with her as her hand twitched and spasmed. The girl should be dead. She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed, but it had been long enough. She realized then that her chest no longer rose and fell.

Am I dead? She asked the crow.

We are in the land of the living. Was all the crow responded with.

Then why was she still here? Why wouldn’t she go? She felt stuck in limbo, unable to do anything. She felt her energy spike with her anger. In a jolt, her arm tore away from the ground in a stinging rip. It felt as if her flesh had been torn off. A cry sounded in her throat as her arm plopped down in front of her face, the first sound and bit of movement she had made since the first night.

With her hand now in her line of sight, she marveled at its appearance. Her flesh was mottled with the colors of the forest, browns and umbers and greens. She had not been green before. Turning her hand over, she saw loose bits of thread handing from it. Thin and stringy brown threads lined her whole arm. The girl squinted. No, not thread. Roots.

Roots ran all the way down her arm where it had come in contact with the earth. The roots disappeared into the flesh of her arm. She felt something other than agony looking at her new hand.

What am I? She asked the crow.

Alive. The crow answered.