When there is nowhere left to run…
My eyes are closed tight, trying desperately to hold on to my wavering sanity. The words of a Christmas carol swim around in my head. ‘Tis the season to be jolly…’ I pinch my arms, hoping that the pain will keep me connected to the present. ‘Troll the ancient Yuletide carol. Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.’
My mind is being torn between two worlds, two parallel universes? I’m not sure. The accumulated energy from the past and the present collide head-on at a million miles per hour in my skull. The persistent struggle for existence in the confined space meant for one. ‘See the blazing Yule before us. Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.’
I can hear the shrill laughter of a child reverberate from my throat. An old man is cussing. Hens are clucking angrily in response.
My vision starts to focus and forms ghostly blobs of light and dark floating in front of me. Then colour starts to filter through and the images become more distinguishable.
I hear feet running. Then I realise they are my feet, running weightlessly along a cobbled path. Someone rushes past me, more laughing. I feel the brush of their skin on my arm. Lose strands of hair tickle my face as I run. I giggle. My long skirt flaps around my legs.
“Wait for me,” I call out as I run….