The Swamp
When I open my eyes it’s dark.
The air drapes itself on my skin and clothes and I know I’m standing in the yawning expanse of night. There are woods all around and I stand to my shins in a frigid, shimming ink. I can’t feel my feet and I can see my ragged breath swirl into nothing. The trees have roots that rise through the water below; hundreds of fingers lined with teeth reaching to me. I taste blood in my mouth and in my breath. A pair of hands in front of me, mine I suppose, shiver and quake with the force of electricity. I can’t move quickly or steadily and I don’t know exactly what’s happened. My heart pounds through my forehead and my right ear is hot and leaking.
I am not alone.
I know I can’t see the moon or the stars through the leaves above: I’ve already searched.
There is a figure in front of me. A shadow that drags air in with effort and sprays me with heat and breath. His voice is low, accented and laced with smoke:
“Keep up. You keep up, you scrawny bastard!”
I don’t move.
He grabs my coat hard, twists it and my skin violently and I open my mouth. Something hot and hard smacks my teeth. He loudly whispers directly into my searing, wet ear.
“This is all you fucking get. Move.”
The shadow pulls away and swishes through the sludge and fingers. I follow it lugging a heavy bag and spit out parts of my teeth.
The water is getting deeper.
The air drapes itself on my skin and clothes and I know I’m standing in the yawning expanse of night. There are woods all around and I stand to my shins in a frigid, shimming ink. I can’t feel my feet and I can see my ragged breath swirl into nothing. The trees have roots that rise through the water below; hundreds of fingers lined with teeth reaching to me. I taste blood in my mouth and in my breath. A pair of hands in front of me, mine I suppose, shiver and quake with the force of electricity. I can’t move quickly or steadily and I don’t know exactly what’s happened. My heart pounds through my forehead and my right ear is hot and leaking.
I am not alone.
I know I can’t see the moon or the stars through the leaves above: I’ve already searched.
There is a figure in front of me. A shadow that drags air in with effort and sprays me with heat and breath. His voice is low, accented and laced with smoke:
“Keep up. You keep up, you scrawny bastard!”
I don’t move.
He grabs my coat hard, twists it and my skin violently and I open my mouth. Something hot and hard smacks my teeth. He loudly whispers directly into my searing, wet ear.
“This is all you fucking get. Move.”
The shadow pulls away and swishes through the sludge and fingers. I follow it lugging a heavy bag and spit out parts of my teeth.
The water is getting deeper.