You peer out between the bars of your cell and jealously marvel at the freedom of the clouds in the sky. How did you end up in here, trapped and alone? You can’t recall. Time’s interminable tick-tock taps on, turning towards tomorrow, becoming more meaningless with each passing moment.
You hear a series of frantic cheeps. Suddenly, you feel a thrush tear through you, spraying your innards out in slow motion. White chunks scatter, tossed; lost pieces of you. The sun shines through the exit wound, warming and drying your insides. It cleaves you in two, cauterizing each side of the hole. You split apart. Where you were one, now you are two and change. As if a dollar bill were ripped and somehow two quarters and some dimes jangled out
Your perspective becomes confused, without a point of reference. Again things blur.
Air waffles and whooshes in your ears and flows all around you. You can feel micro-changes in humidity, pressure, and temperature in every pore and follicle of your body. You are dropping fast; the point of your head slicing through the fabric of atmosphere in which you move. Resistance is low as you bullet downward.
Suddenly, you feel drag. Your body tenses up as you are jerked left and right. The air becomes moist, thick, and cold. The sound in your ears becomes louder, fwaping and tearing. You come out the other side and collide into your target, feverishly jabbing at it.
Your adrenaline rushes and things blur.
Everything is black, and you’re lying on your back. You hear that same agitated chirping from before. You open your eyes. Your head is turned forty five degrees. Your vision is fuzzy. You squint, adjusting to the light. Above in the bright blue, you see a small bird pierce through a cloud and dive bomb a circling falcon below, swooping in to peck at its back before pulling up for another run. You see the cloud split where the bird passed through it, the sun shining through the fissure and refracting like a gemstone. It breaks into two large halves and some smaller pieces, which slowly disintegrate into the wide-open sky.
You blink. Your eyes focus and the scene above is painted over with bars. Briefly, you remember how you ended up here.
You close your eyes. Things blur. You wake up again.
For #MayBookPrompts day 23 prompt “A Hundred Years of Solitude”