Falling Iii: Reality Has No Defined Boundaries

His body hit the ground finally. A muffled thud in the blossoming darkness. The conscious part of him glitched slightly.

Frozen from fear and confusion, he felt cornered against the boundary with the advancing figure feet away from him. Like some small insignificant piece of something he could only imagine, he cowered at her feet, unable to utilize his legs or hands even to crawl away.

The silhouette now had a finger rested on his shoulder. Her hair, now braids made out of fireflies, fell across her face, and her apparel, a cluster of the creeping and crawly, which seemed to spiral into the forest floor, went on to explain what was going on, but he could hear nothing. Save the footsteps of the several thoughts running through his head, questions of faith, the line between what was real and what wasn't, motivations for running after a stranger on impulse late evening and into such a place?

At that moment, he prayed, shut his eyes, and in the darkness, there was silence just as visible and audible as death. A silent prayer, afraid of the echo of his own voice. He opened his eyes slowly, he would have sighed in relief, but there was a distortion to the order of the residents of the woods that had arranged themselves into a stunning yet dreadful sight on Cynthia.

In the blinking of an eye, he was buried beneath the creeping and the crawling; a snake slithered over his right hand, sending shivers down his entire frame, and she was gone. He suddenly jerked up; this time, he didn't think before taking to his heels. The chirps were merry, and the moon was three-quarters into the belly of the sky.

There would be time to think later; trembling, he entered his room and shut the door, forcing himself into an instant sleep so early into the night. He would be awakened much later that night to a replay. Perhaps to a continuation. For now, he was in the arms of his bed and the safety of walls.

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