Reach

By an introvert

 

You always thought you liked it best
when you were left alone
hands pocketed, face closeted
drown voices out with your headphones
pretending you can’t hear the world
its got jack shit to say
don't talk to me, just let me be
thank God they know to stay away
these socialites, these vapid sheep
who needs to be this close,
this tied to others; you'd much rather
flit past, contactless, a ghost,
content to stand apart, estranged—
but suddenly the whole world changed
so now we all stand this far back
and now we dare not make contact
but now the world’s a different place
and now we're stuck in our own space
so now you see these barriers you've drawn
and now it’s what you wanted all along
but now you have no noises to drown out
now you wish that you could just reach out.

Space
Geographer
Part 10

Morgan Hannah
Life & Style Editor

 

he darkness is so pure, darker than anything I’ve experienced

before. I cannot help myself. Iam unnerved. It’s cold too. And
damp. Each surface I grasp at is slick and difficult. I want to call
out for the creature to make sure I’m not alone, but a part of me
wonders if I’ve been led into a trap. A chill runs across me like an
itch I cannot scratch. | cannot tell if it’s just me shaking or if it’s the
mountain that’s shaking—like a body quivering in the cold. I wish
I could reapply the layers I peeled off earlier, but I cannot see nor
do I trust my surroundings, which are narrow and only seem to be
growing more narrow the further into the mountain I tread.

My breathing is quick and painful. Count to ten, then
repeat... Vibrations, like a steady drum, pound below me in sync
with my rapid heart rate. When suddenly, a bright light shines
in the distance as if there’s a crack in the base of the mountain.

I pause and hold my breath, listening. The sounds of carefully
placed feet navigating the terrain ahead of me give me hope

that I’m not alone and that I’m almost out of this. Following the
sounds, I wander closer and closer to the light, my raw fingers
grasping at the slick stone surrounding me and pulling me
forward. The air that hits my face once I break free from the stone
is so sweet and fresh—then very soon after it starts to sour like
spoiled milk, and I wrinkle my nose. A flash of green catches my
eyes and I can feel my jaw drop and knees grow weak. Wobbling, I
crash into the wet stone beneath my feet.

 

“What the hell...?”

Continuation of this exciting adventure next week!

Illustration by Morgan Hannah