I have recently discovered platforms like HubPages where I can express and share of myself creatively.
Am walking along the boardwalk, orange running shoes, orange cap, white tank top and black shorts. I can feel my backpack, light. I can feel the sun pressing down firmly on my crown and shoulders. My shadow eludes me.
To my left, a guardrail stands between myself and a greyish shimmering hazy looking Lake Ontario. In the distance I see the flicker of sailboats and gulls. I do not feel a breeze.
To my right, and as far as I could see east and west, buildings of all colors, heights and designs dazzled my sight. They appear to be swaying left and right from all the bright flashing digital ads and their reflections on the surrounding structures. Ahead, I see people on bicycles and rollerblades, jogging and walking. I see cars and trucks speed by, even a streetcar slithering along. So much life and beauty, so many colors, but I hear no sound.
Appreciating the varied manifestations of life, I feel lucky and humbly blessed. As I continued my walk, I came to the joined end of the boardwalk and lake, at which point I noticed another path veering off to my left, with tall pine and maple trees forming a semi dark grey little forest. There were brown woodchips and round purple stones on either side of the path. Seems odd to see purple stones, but I walked towards the trees, smiling and enjoying my adventure. Then faintly I could hear some type of sound, music perhaps. I like live music. I began walking with purpose towards the sound, silently counting, first the maple trees then the pine, eyes flitting from side to side.
As I counted, I suddenly smelled a strong burnt cloth odor, I could even taste the ash on the sides of my tongue, which was quite strange. I glanced behind me; I could see a faint finger of purple smoke snaking through the trees, maybe someone was smoking or messing about? not wise.
As I turned back forward, the sound became eerily louder, which turned out to be noise- music, sounds like a fuse of squealing guitar and deep tap tap of a drum. What is THAT. ok, this is not normal. I turned around to head back to the boardwalk, but I couldn't see the end of the path, it had become much darker and quieter, it seemed like I had walked a mile from the turn point. Am thinking, did I self-medicate? had a sippy sip of my vodka-based concoction? I started going over my movements but can't remember how my day started. I can't think, am telling myself not to panic, not to think about true crime murder tv shows, my backpack felt heavy, I had forgotten I had it, my palms are sweating, I started walking fast, I can feel my blood pressure rising, I can feel the bottom of my feet on the asphalt, I can taste the dry salty ash in my mouth; I looked behind me, I saw the purple smoke multiply into 2 then 4 then 6 fingers, reaching for me, I bolted, running as fast as I can put foot down, the trees I was just counting had tripled in numbers and thickness and seemed to be running beside me, then faster, I felt my heart pounding and felt it moving towards my throat, then I heard it fluttering in my ears, I want to scream but my mouth felt full of cotton balls and no sounds came, and am running and running, I looked back and two grey- hooded male teenagers with scythes were now chasing me and am running and I can't feel my feet on the ground anymore and the smell and taste of ash is overpowering and all the hairs on my body is standing up, my backpack is heavy and I can't scream and just as my heart is about to explode,
I woke up
In my room, in my bed and biting my pillow.
© 2022 C Marie Brown