Orange grass

A dream I had once, in which I was trapped in an eternally expanding field of orange grass and cyan skies.

On top of a tree, the faceless monkey appears and dissapears, and we beg for them to kill us, to free us.

They turn around. Are they faceless too? Are they with him? Are they like us? I wish I knew.

We are all desesperate and what can I do? We can not die, not here, and I don't want them to kill. I try to jump from the highest branch of the bright red tree, but (they) drag me back, my legs are useless now.

Where's the pain?

She found us, we are all together again. I look up from the ground, staring at these pitiful children- They need me, and I need them- But what can I do. I'm afraid, and they are afraid too.

I can hear her whispering, and suddenly she turns around. ''I have something.'' She says, pretending to be brave. She grew up so fast, too fast. ''I'll do it, one by one. We'll be free.'' Something that sparkles, that shines with the light of freedom and steel.

''I will not let you do it. Not like this.''

''There's no other way!''

''I can't leave you alone.''

''Hold him.''

Thirty-four quivering hands hold me down.

''You will find us, when you're out of here. You told us that, remember?''

And what if I can't? What if I forget?


''We'll be fine.''


''I love you.''

''Me too, idiot.''

We all chuckle. Thirty-four hands loosen their grip.

''Hold me. Hold me as hard as you can- If I try to stop you, don't listen to me. If I tell you I don't want to go, don't listen to me.

Please, for the love of everything that's good. Don't listen to me. Don't be afraid.

You kids are a lovely group of imbeciles, okay? Keep it that way.''

She steps forward, sitting on my lap. They hold me down, and I can feel how this body trembles. It's afraid- I'm afraid, too. I don't want to go.
She holds it high on the air, a shadow of pure silver in this eternal light.

From the lowest branch of the bright red tree, it looks at me. It looks at us.

''Don't do it.''

I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it in my forehead. I can't hear them. I can't see them.
When I was a kid, just like them, I used to do all sorts of dumb shit. I would put water on top of my eyes, pretending I was a goldfish. It's such an specific memory, but it's the only thing I could think of when my sight became blurry and I could no longer hear them.

They are asking me if I'm gone, if he (i'm) is free. I can't move. I'm not.

I'm still here!


I'm still here!


Please, listen to me.

''Noona, his mouth-''

I can feel the blade hitting my skull, and beyond that- What's beyond that? I can't see anything. I can't hear them. I can feel the silver sparkles on my mind, splitting my head in two.

My eyes open. My room, my bed- I'm covered in pillows. I can hear birds outside- I can hear them, laughing. I touch my eyes, my forehead. A single line filled with dull pain, where the dagger used to be a few minutes ago.

Where are they, now?

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