When my eyes grew too heavy, I listened.
My contact with the stone made a tiny scraping sound whenever I shifted weight. Small brush and greenery rustled beyond the confines of the climbing road. Above my head what once felt like a claustrophobic cloud began to open with the rush of wind. A forming shape occupied my inner eye, and I allowed it to blossom across my physical awareness like watercolor over wet paper.
There were birds, almost silent but for their flitting wings. My breathing steadied and entered into the rhythm of the wind. My heartbeat calmed until I no longer felt its anxious pulse in my temples and wrists. There was a high sound, so distant I thought I imagined it, like a flute.
Though the rest was peaceful, my skin was clammy and the stone leeched warmth from my legs. The world rocked like the deck of the ship that brought me to this land. At these heights the air ran thin and did not fulfill my lungs.
I held doubt at bay, pushed back against fear, yet sleep finally overcame me.
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (2 so far!)
Average reader rating 5.00/5
Awesome use of hearing and touch to describe the scene! To sleep with the character, perchance to dream? Or maybe they wake to the answer of who is watching them.
- #2429 Posted 4 years ago
Perhaps the MC will wake to the realization that the watcher is herself, that she is, in fact, the one impeding her own progress?
- #2433 Posted 4 years ago
- 5 out of 5
Inspired by (sequel to):
At the broken rail, I stopped.
My head spun, it was difficult to focus. I could not stand. My tongu…The Second Lesson
- Published 4 years ago.
- Story viewed 7 times and rated 1 times.
All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?