Tremor wanted to run; to hide. The night felt like it was trying to swallow her as the silhouettes of trees became claws that stretched out to capture, their nails sharp enough to mutilate - or worse. Everything in her peripheral vision became monstrous, and only when she turned to look directly at the offending shadow or wind-rustled leaf did it stop trying to sneak up on them, but Tremor could not look everywhere at once.
?Are you alright??
The whispered question jolted her, surprise dumping ice into her veins and raising bumps on the otherwise smooth surface of her skin. Inhaling, she let her guard down long enough to look at Imagine, and bobbed her head in response. He was depending on her to guide him through this. After all, he had never known life outside of The Asylum?s bleached walls, while she had been raised in The City before her unwilling tenancy had begun. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, to feel for certain she wasn?t alone in the dark forest, but feared her sweaty, shaking palms would give her away. In spite of years of experimentation and medication, her night terrors had never faded, but suffering in silence while locked away inside of a colorless cube at night was not the same as experiencing it out in the open. The nighttime world filled the air with unknown sounds that pumped even the steadiest heart more quickly through the veins, and brought air more readily into and out from the lungs. Tremor had to be strong; she could not let Imagine see that she was afraid.
He walked just ahead of her, looking at everything with his blue eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. The groan of labored tree limbs - something could be waiting up there for them - did not faze him, the hoot of a nighttime bird - it could be trying to warn them - did not make him hold his breath, and the crunch then snap of fallen foliage - Tremor gasped, spinning and crouching as she stared into the darkness.
A moment passed while she peered into the trees, trying to see beyond them - silence. Nothing leapt from the shadows to claim them, and, unable to hear much over the throbbing bu-bump-bu-bump of her own heart, Tremor slowly straightened up, hoping that Imagine would assume her continued shivering was a result of the night air. She could feel his eyes on her, but was unable to meet them, afraid of what she might find. Would she find the same disappointment her mother had always worn upon entering Tremor?s room after yet another nightmare had sprung to life therein? Would he mock her for her fears the way other patients had, or simply tell her that she was imagining things in the condescending way of the doctors? Unlike them, Tremor had long since known the difference between when other people used their imaginations, and what happened when she used her own. If she could turn it off? but she knew she could not.
She curled in on herself, picturing Imagine responding to her like all the others. If he did, she would leave. No, she would - she would - if - maybe she should just? Her protesting jaw and the sharp pain in the palms of her hands gave Tremor something else to focus on until she could breath again, and, unclenching her jaw and both fists, she filled her lungs with air, slowly letting it out again before turning, resigned to what she might find in the depths of those water-blue eyes.
You can write just about anything. Whoever's writing is the most interesting based on my judgement they will win the grand prize of the Unoriginal Stitches!
