This is my entry to Scholars & Scribes and DreemPort collab, week 2.
If you want to join, check these posts:
Dreemport, Scholars & Scribe challenge, week 2
About a collaboration on Scholars an Scribe community channel
This is part 2 of 'Ariadne's Tread.
Here you can read first part:
Ariadne's Thread part 1
An indescribable fear overwhelmed him once again - he was afraid to step into the darkness. His eyes were still unaccustomed to the absence of light and still tired from the blinding light. His body began to demand water and food. The burbling in his stomach finally dispelled his hopes that everything that had happened was just a nightmare.
Slowly, holding the red thread tightly - he stepped into the blackness . He felt a wave of heat rising within him. His head became heavy, warm tears ran into his eyes. They ran down his cheeks in stinging streams. He wanted to touch his face, to wipe away the tears in order to pretend, if only to himself, that he had the courage to go on. But he did not. He was afraid that as soon as he let go of the thread, even for a moment, it would disappear. It would disappear along with the hope of finding a way out.
He recalled the beautiful mountainous landscape in his mind. Instead of reassuring him, the image in his mind was as dark as the abyss that surrounded him. He knelt down and as before - he lay face down on the ground, hoping to see an open space full of greenery, sunshine and air. The ground was indeed as clear as glass as before, but the landscape that stretched out before him - was completely different. The world was turned upside down, or it was he who lay trapped beneath its surface.
He could see the soles of his feet trampling on him but doing him no harm, he could see the sky streaked with clouds in which the tops of giant skyscrapers were fading. Raindrops fell on his face, but he felt neither the coolness nor the relief of the water washing over his wounds. He took a closer look - broken windows, the stark skeletons of unfinished or devastated buildings standing out. People with indescribable sadness painted on their grey faces. Ruin. The endlessness of destruction and wasted lives.
He could not take his eyes off the street signs. They seemed strangely familiar. The trees though now stripped of their leaves - he remembered green and full of life. A woman running across the street.... He could not believe his eyes - Eli!
-Eli! It's me! Eli! He slammed his fist with all his might into the barrier separating him from his beloved.
-Eli!
A woman in a checkered coat with an unlit cigarette in her hand walked across his face as if nothing had happened. No one heard him. No one could help him.
He clenched his hands on the thread even tighter, stood up quickly, pulled at it hard - and moved on, almost running. He was furious at himself, furious at the images in his head that he could neither discard nor tame. The thread wound his hands like a string from a kite. He didn't pay much atettion to it, he ran on. When he ran out of breath, he stopped for a moment, but decided not to seek any more consolation.
-To hell with dreams, enough illusions and pipe dreams!
As soon as his breathing returned to normal he looked behind him - the pillar of light was still visible in the distance. The fact that he was moving through space, however, gave him encouragement.
He smiled to himself and moved forward, and as soon as he took his first step - the ground cleared beneath his feet. The smooth sheet began to move. He lost his balance, fell to his knees and began to slip off the surface, which only moments ago had been perfectly horizontal. At the last moment he grabbed onto the thread, wrapped it tightly around his forearm and wrist and held on tightly with both hands. The thin string was hurting his hands, poking painfully into the soft flesh. There was no point of support. He spread his legs wide to probe with his toes for some ground - but in vain. Worst of all, he didn't know what was really happening.
The darkness was still impenetrable and his senses completely deafened. He felt he wouldn't last long like this. He tried to climb up the thread, but it cut his hands like a knife. When he had completely lost his strength - the thread on his wrist had started to loosen, he was falling down faster and faster. He was spinning on his axis, he no longer knew where was the top was, where the bottom. He wanted that it was all over, he wanted to fall already. He dreamt of the end. Of a surface so hard that the momentum of the impact would shatter his body into thousands of pieces. A rush of air stroked his lithe body when it suddenly hung on...something.
-It's... impossible.
A piercing pain radiated from his right wrist to his elbow up to his shoulder. He tried to lift his left arm but felt it immobilised. Something was holding him tightly by his other wrist. His whole body began to move without his will. His head tilted so far back that he felt his neck could snap, his arms began to rotate at the joints and move in random directions. His knees bent then straightened.
He danced naked in the darkness.
Happy Friday Eve!
Yours,
Strega Azure
Drawing & pics are my authorship if not stated otherwise.
@strega.azure ©I used black paper 200mg, white watercolour pencil, white acrylic paint, red permanent marker. White version has been altered in photoshop(I inverted colours and kept red thread)
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