Page 24 - Contrast2007
P. 24
Flight
Barbara jensen "Ryuu" Toperzer
I stand, one foot on the stone windowsill, the close the window, overcoming even its fear
other still on the wooden floor. I feel the cold tex-
ture of the stone, stone that has been here, high of what's behind me in the face of what might
above the womb of the earth, for hundreds of years.
It has been long, too, since the wood beneath my be. My bare feet touch the pool - it is abso-
left foot stretched desperate arms to the sky, sighed
whispers to the wind, creaked when storms lashed lutely frigid, sending shivers through me.
at its branches. I put my hands on the handles and
I wonder, idly, if either material misses those
pause.
days. It is raining outside - a cold thunder-
I stand, my hands on either side of the win-
storm. It is not a raging beast, no ... this is a
dow, looking out at the blue sky. I stand in indeci-
storm whose energy is spent. The rain still
sion.
Go, says a voice in my head. Step out into comes down steadily, the sky is still dark and
the abyss. Let yourself go. Set yourself free. grey, the wind still blows cold, and in the dis-
The wind tugs at my hair. It joins the voice,
tance, there is a brief flash.
sibilantly sighing promises of freedom.
Both are drowned by the thundering of my I count the seconds ... one, two, three, four,
heart. My chest muscles tighten and my knuckles five ... Each count highlights the fluttering of
grow white from gripping the stone.
my heart.
No. Not today. The center of the storm, then, is still far
I reach out and close the window.
I run. I run, feet thudding on the carpeted away.
floors, a soft I pathd pathd pathd'. I run, my The rain strikes me and starts to soak into
blood struggling to provide enough oxygen to
my muscles; I run, not yet at that point where my clothes, my hair. It is cold, so cold, and my
I don't feel the pain. Blindly, I run, my hands
brushing and striking the walls, searching, skin sprouts goose pimples in response.
searching ... My hands slide back from the handles to
There.
I press down the handle, and the door the frame, and my right foot reaches up to the
opens. Quickly, I close it and lock it, then set sill. Luckily, the stone is rough from age, and
about shoving furniture in front of it.
so not too slippery yet.
It is as I am moving a beautiful old desk For a moment, what's behind me is for-
that I realize where I am.
gotten. There is only the storm; the mind-
The window.
It is open. numbing drop past the bridge down to the
A cold breeze hisses through it, flutter-
ing the gossamer curtains. The shutters clang tiny stretch of salt water between the stone
against the outside of the building, and the
dim grey light outlines a pool of water where and the land; the road that goes from the
the rain has gotten in.
I walk over, slowly. My mind says to bridge to be swallowed by the wood; and the
wood itself, the mist-shrouded trees stretch-
ing into seeming infinity.
The breeze picks up, driving rain into my
eyes. I lick droplets off my lips - they taste of
rainwater and sweat. I can smell the sea, but
the castle is so high that the sound of waves
escapes me.
I try to ignore the voice in my head. The
voice that screams, Jump! Leap, and fall, fa~l,
ever-dream, go! Fly till darkness take you; fly ttll
earth's embrace stop you; fall, fall! ,I
They'll leave. Of course they will. They 1
cease their search and leave me in peace.
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