Saudade
Some call it cerebral. Others may say it's peaceful. Most drift, feeling the warmth of their mothers or imagining the safety of their father's comforting arms. This space is lucent. Weightless. An obscure intellectual city filled with one's solipsism. People tend to feel free. She feels free, believing a possibility of purgatory has found her. But this is not the end.
Comforted by sonorous muffles, memories form in her mind. She struggles to anchor herself in the abyss of somnolence. Thoughts of her childhood appear. They seem kind and gentle. She thinks about the pink satchel she used to take to school. Her mother would pack it with decorative lunches for her to nibble on during break time. She thought about how her tone-deaf father would sing her to sleep and kiss her goodnight. They were happy.
Her journey darkens as she's transported to her father's funeral. The atmosphere is colder now. Clouds blanket the sky. She stands in an open field of uncertainty, vision occupied by death and decay. Freshly turned dirt stings her nostrils as she desperately tries to move forward in her journey. A useless effort. She hears her mother's heartbreak with the vicious cycle of melancholy. Saudade she used to tell her.
Her mother stopped smiling after that. Debt pilled onto them with the main benefactor gone. To keep the lifestyle they once had her mother worked three jobs hopelessly. It got harder each day to afford a child's education, shelter and her own suffering from hospital bills. She watched her mother and the guilt grew. Her mission was clear.
'Oh the stokes of pain' she thought.
Her body gently sparks, awakening her heart. The pain arrives first, in small caresses like feathers tickling her toes and fingertips. It swirls inside her, flowing up through tiny nerves. They connect with each other creating a network of languages speaking only of torment. Energy rushes through her as the heaviness of life's touch returns to stimulate her system.
The pain sets in. Deepens. Rips through, bursting her veins. Fires erupt throughout her body, mutating every cell. Agony twists in her mind. She is fierce in her craving for relief. Trapped in the prison of terror and grief that is her mind. She can't scream. She can't move. She is alone.
Fear usually corrupts people's senses. More likely than not it takes over someone's very existence. Is this punishment?, or Was I too late? These types of journeys continue pushing one's mentality, testing them. Either until they snap or cultivate. She's thrown into this void battling herself and her destiny.
Anela Khani is twenty-six years old. An MRCS student. She works, studies and cares for her mother. In between her schedule, she spends her time with her closest three companions, Marta, Tiffany & Samir. They grew up together and would continue to do so for the rest of their lives. Anela wonders if she's comatose or if the final step of life is taking her. Is she surrounded by the right people? Are they holding her hand pleading for more time?
She thinks about whether she's being mourned. How this will affect her mother? Unachieved dreams, a missed rich life where she was in control. Not destiny.
During her cultivation. She had forgotten a crucial detail: How did she end up here?
A hot knife sensation cut through her head as she bumbled to remember. Electrical signals suffering from a shortage in her brain. Fried.
'There was water.' She was drowning in it. A river to be exact. Her eyes and ears prickled with sharp stings as her lungs ignited. They roared with flames with each inhale. Prangs of pain wrapped around her legs and stomach. Her mind penetrated with panic, deeply craving oxygen. Her head hits the surface and gasps for air. She chokes, taking raw breaths to purge the excess water. With blurred eyes, she spots land. She thrashes, clawing and kicking until she reaches the edge of the bank. When her nails smack the earth she digs them in deep, clinging to any type of sanctuary. The grass ripped with every pull as she brings her torso out of the water. Her lungs are screaming. She left a trail of a brutal fight behind her as she drags her twitching body further from the bank.
Subtle sparks of energy circulate through her palms whilst adrenaline fuels her being. One sound was all that could be heard for miles. The arrogance of a heartbeat. A tilted head was all she could manage. 'Yellow.' Trees the colour of the golden sun blurred themselves against the blue muster of the sky. That was all she remembered before she got here.
Faint harmonies puncture the internal torture. They are rich and ease her anguish ever so slightly. Visiting her, allowing a sense of peace to fall back into. She believes her mother is giving her this comfort while she travels in the void.
Click, click, click.
Click, click, click.
Click, click, click.
Irritation starts to creep in. Anela becomes unsettled with the idea that even her ears are not permitted any mercy.
'Enough!' Her hazel eyes snap open. They are bright, but not quite clear yet. Environments settle to foggy images of tan linen. It forms patterns of delicate architecture. Some time passes and the hazel eyes absorb reality. This place is not a hospital nor is it her room. Clammy hands and a plummeting heart meet with fear and anticipation. She may not have been cast away wishing for a better hell but this was not what was expected.
Click, click, click.
The sound that led her away from the depths of her mind resumed. A voice approaches, loud and demanding: speaking in a tongue somewhat enigmatic to Anela. There is familiarity in these muffled words. An unknown understanding exudes itself. One word stands out the most compared to the others. This word in fact is the only one that came to Anela's mind as she lunged forward.
'Run'