Staring up at her was a broken image
Under a Foreign Sky
Read for free!
--
The sun woke Amnesia, sprawling through the lush, plentiful canopy overhead and dappling streaks of pale-yellow light over her body and eyes. She had no way of knowing how long she’d slept, but when her arms slid up to protect her eyes, she felt stiff from lack of movement.
After several minutes taken to recalibrate herself, she was able to will her heavy body into moving just enough to put her into a sitting position that left her slouched and gazing sightlessly at the ground. Resting in the dirt in front of her were hands painted in various shades of earthen tones and caked a deep brown in the crevices, a sight that placed a stone in her stomach.
Standing, she made her slowly wending way through the intricate network of the forest, her mind caught in a distant place far off from her actions. She abandoned the usual unconscious grace with which she would normally navigate the forest in favor of loud, stumbling steps that disturbed all within her immediate vicinity. A guiding, mother-like presence alone kept her to her course, nudging her this way and that so that she wouldn’t walk into trees or other dangers.
She reached the stream without knowing how far she had walked or how long the trip had taken. She simply blinked and it was there — a gap in the dusty forest floor a few feet wide filled to the brim with slightly murky water that took on grayish tones. And staring up at her from the glassy surface was a broken image.
The girl that looked back up at her looked like a starving, wild forest creature. Her skin was only a few shades lighter than the soil underfoot, and her stature was narrow and scrawny. She barely resembled a young woman. Her dirty-blonde hair was impossibly tangled, snarled about her head like a badly constructed nest, and her wide eyes, a teal blue, appeared hazy and dark, robbed of both life and light. If she peered closely enough though, Amnesia could recognize a few familiar features that did not seem so grim. Still, it was the eyes that her gaze was continuously drawn to, distracting her from all other features. All else was acceptable and not unusual — the eyes made the image broken.
A cool spring breeze rustled through the branches overhead, detaching an oak leaf from its branch. The leaf, fresh and green and full of promise, spiraled down, carried by gravity’s pull until it finally came to a stop on the water and caused a series of ripples to spread out. And as the leaf found its end directly over the image that Amnesia had been unable to remove her eyes from, the disturbance successfully released her from the captivating hold of the image’s haunting gaze.
Suddenly, it became a struggle not to simply collapse into the gurgling water and allow it to wash her downstream, away to wherever it felt like depositing her. But she managed to convince her body to slowly pull up the hem of her dress over her head and remove the only garment of clothing she wore.
Nude, she finally stepped into the water of the stream that still nipped with winter’s lingering chill. Despite the goosebumps that rose all across her skin and the tingling shock that spread through her body as water rose up to caress her body, she lowered herself into the stream until it nearly reached her shoulders.
She scrubbed away layers upon layers of grime. She was thorough, leaving no surface or crevice forgotten in her washing, and when that had been done, she dipped her head back into the water. For some time, she allowed the water to move through her hair, and then she dug her fingers into the tangles and snarls and washed her hair as well.
When she finished, she stood and climbed out, eyes already touching upon the surrounding forest. Standing once more on land, naked, dripping, and shivering, light spilled over her, but she couldn’t feel it. After some time, Amnesia sat on a nearby log and allowed her hands to once more rise to her head, pulling apart knots a little at a time. She worked at a normal pace at first, but as she moved deeper into her task, her movements began to slow, bit by bit, until her body stilled entirely.
As her teal eyes touched upon the forest around her, the shapes began to gradually distort and blur. The tears that prickled overflowed from her eyes and dropped onto her cheeks, only to be quickly replaced. And there, alone in the forest, she crouched amongst the leaves and brush and sobbed.
Later, when the sun disappeared and the music of night began to play, she watched the stars appear, one by one, twinkling above the trees — searching for her star, the only light that could bring her comfort.
But no. This sky was not her own.
