Through the Crack

crack_of_the_door_by_mariana_vieira-d3b3e7d

Crack of the door by *Mariana-Vieira
Digital Art / Drawings & Paintings / Fantasy ©2011-2013 *Mariana-Vieira

Her body was sprawled on the floor visible through the heavy door’s open crack.  Her eyes were shut, but I knew that face, only, I couldn’t remember how.  I couldn’t remember much of anything.

I wanted to see if she was alive; I felt that I needed to.  My breathing was getting too fast and too loud, so I held it and stepped closer pushing the door open.  But that widening inch sounded like thunder hitting the dark hallway and my hand withdrew from the wood like it had turned white hot.

Footsteps came from my right.  The corridor was a long, narrow expanse of darkness, but a golden archway was now rippling forward, lighting the stone, approaching in time with the footfalls.

Fear rose inside me like an animal, pressing my stomach up against my heart.  I bolted; every blind step hammering against my pounding, burning head.

The place was a maze, twisting and turning in the darkness.  ‘Take left, always left.’ The voice led me out; a woman’s voice, but a stranger to me.

A door came at me and I flung myself at it.

Crisp air, wet grass, the sound of running water; weightlessness as my fear abated.

I stepped out and followed the sound of water, my feet sinking in mud. I looked back once and out of the darkness a castle jutted out, its stone reflecting white under an incomplete moon.

A river emerged from the thickening woodland.  I plunged into it and let it carry me to safety as my head cleared with each new smell, each tactile sensation of freedom.

When the castle was but a shining grey speck in the distance, I clung to a branch and pulled myself onto the bank.

There, a new scent embraced me; wet cedar, rich dark soil and something else.

Wild roses.

Her smell.

And it all came crashing on me; her face, her smile, her voice.

My guilt.

She was mine and I left her there.

 

For Trifecta:  the word this week is CRACK – 3a : a narrow break : fissure   b : a narrow opening —used figuratively in phrases like fall through the cracks to describe one that has been improperly or inadvertently ignored or left out.  

I’m very happy that I managed to participate this week.  In fact, I take this opportunity to apologise for the haphazard way my posts are coming.  I’m too busy with my day job at the moment and I can only dedicated the remaining microscopic free time I have for my writing.  So please bear with me, better times are coming; the sun will rise again; there is a light at the end of the tunnel; no winter lasts forever…I hope!

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10 comments on “Through the Crack

  1. Gabriella says:

    Very well-written with a bit of mystery!

  2. Mike says:

    An intriguing story. I get the feeling, however far he runs he’s never going to forget.

  3. The Real Cie says:

    Oh, beautifully done. Sad as well.

  4. latonya says:

    Enjoyed the pace of the write, the tension his confusion and fear are palpable.

  5. Christina says:

    oh awesome ending.

  6. Draug419 says:

    He seems to be quite the coward. Mayhap she deserves better.

  7. Lorri says:

    Oh my! I like the ending, like the self-examination within the coward he is.

  8. I loved your piece … It did remind me of Criminal Minds … No human is perfect ! Cowardice catches up sooner or later !

  9. jannatwrites says:

    I like the ending; the guilt that came with running away.

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