It had seemed effervescent, the wooden floor squeaking and the squeamish laughter. The boy held the dense sword ready to strike, muscles tensing under a teasing smile. The silver-eyed girl raised an eyebrow at this noisy fly that lurked about her nose. The smile grew wicked and the sword plunged down in mock fight.
The sword had meant to stop inches away from her stomach, yet it thudded down ferociously, as the girl slyly rolled away. The shocked moment turned against the boy, as his leg twisted and he fell heavy onto the planks that murmured slightly in protest. Giddy laughter filled the room as sword boy and silver eyed girl clumsily fought for reprisal.
Nodding affectionately she walked out of the room towards the kitchen, listening to the dry sound of her footsteps, as the two thudded away. She filled the kettle with water and put it to boil. The window spewed cold dewy light. The mist had set herself down pleasingly against distant gray mountains. It was real. This tumbling landscape, the music wafting on the chilly winds, the mock sword fights, the stolen kisses whispered to wet lips, and the breathless climb up beaten paths. This was all true. It had to be true; she was in it all.
She sighed forcefully as the water began to boil and saw herself standing crooked at the window clutching a steaming kettle. Her heart missed a beat, she clung dreadfully to the present, it seemed to be fleeing into a cave smothered with past memories and the sneaking future. Their glow, blinding and alive, bounded her; her leaden legs wouldn’t budge, the molten darkness chanted the melancholic tune of her enslavement. Time silently observed, rigidly unperturbed by her drowning screams. There was no future, no present in this cavernous pit; there were only glimmering, endless echoes of the past.
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