A dream I had once, in which I was trapped in an eternal field of orange grass and cyan skies.
On top of a tree, the faceless monkey appears— Beyond the tree, they stand in line, cyan rainbow reflecting off their chromed visors.
It's been 28 minutes. I try to jump from the highest branch of the bright red tree, to embrace the grass with my body.
Numb to everything, they (she) drags me back, limping legs still attached to this sad body.
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 she turns around, resolve in her eyes. ''I have something.'' Her words are soft. She grew up so fast, too fast. ''I'll do it, one by one. And when I'm done, I'll cut my throat.'' Something that sparkles, that shines with the light of freedom and steel. ''To the bone if I must.''
'You aren't strong enough.'' She is.
''It's a sharp knife.'' I know.
''I can't leave you alone.'' Will you make me?
''Hold him.''
Thirty-four quivering hands hold me down.
''You will find us, when you're out of here.''
And what if I can't? What if I forget? What if.
''Yes.''
''We'll be fine.''
''Yes.''
''I'm sorry.''
''Me too.''
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.'' Don't listen to me. Don't be afraid. ''I'm glad we met, kids.''
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.
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.
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.
A child looks at a murky, green glass box. He wonders, how do fish see? And for that bout of curiosity, he pours a tablespoon of water on each eye, as he looks up to the ceiling. Him and I, the only ones who know what it looked like after the dagger pierced my forehead.
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!
''…''
''Noona, his mouth-''
Two, three pushes, and my skull gives in with a delightful crunch. I can feel the metallic sparkle on my mind, splitting my head in two.
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?