THE FALL

I stepped out of the taxi and crossed the street. The only thing on my mind after my long day at work was taking a hot shower and relaxing in bed with a book. I began walking up the short lane that led to my small, yet cozy apartment; I ignored my environment and allowed my body to go into autopilot. I did not think there was much to be hyper-aware of at this hour, and the walk was short, and I was tired. I wanted to just drift towards my space so I could dissociate from the world. However, as per usual, life had other things in mind for me today.

As I passed the last house before I got to my building, I spotted one of the numerous neighbourhood men who often whistled at me whenever I passed, situated in the yard. They were usually not around at this hour, but today, I was going to have to deal with this again. I tried to pick up the pace, hoping I could make it past without him noticing, but of course, that was not on the books. I saw movement from the corner of my eyes and noticed that, today of all days, he was not staying put in his typical location, seated in a worn-out lawn chair, but he was heading in my direction. He closed the gap between us quickly, and before I could make it to the end of the house, he appeared right in front of me.

He made a point to stop directly in my path, and when I moved to the right to bypass him, he moved as well, blocking my way. Then, saying quietly with a slight smirk,

“Good evening, beautiful.”

I felt the most intense sense of fear I have ever felt before. I felt cornered; trapped. I wanted to run away, but I knew I couldn’t because I thought of all the other future encounters. If I ran away today, what would happen tomorrow? So, I did the only thing I knew, I responded politely without looking him in the eye.

“Good evening,” I said, moving quickly to the left to bypass him. This time, I got past him, but I felt his presence still behind me, and when he spoke again, I swore I could feel his hot breath on my neck.

“Take care of yourself okay,” he said.

I did not respond, and my step quickened; I was almost to my front gate. Safety was within reach.

“Take care of yourself,” he repeated. “I have a special love for you, I always observe you and wanted you to know how I felt. I have a special love for you.”

When I heard those words, I instinctively froze in my step. What did he mean? But no, I could not hesitate. Move, Daria! I took another step and began fumbling in my purse for my keys to open the gate.

“Okay, thanks,” I said loud enough for him to hear, and I kept searching for my keys. Where were these damn things?

I realised he had moved closer to me and was silent. I turned to look at him, and the smile he had pasted on his face was now working its way into a scowl. He was getting angry. He had expected a better reception to his confession. I needed to open this gate now because I think this may get ugly. Finally, I got my hands on the keys and put them into the lock. As I felt it turn, I also felt a sharp pain in my left shoulder. I looked, and there was a knife sticking out of it, and he was holding the handle. Shock turned to searing pain and fear in an instant, and I screamed like my life depended on it. I turned and pushed against his chest, and he let go of the knife, but I also slipped and fell back. He was able to gather himself quicker than I and was above me in a moment, pulling at the knife. I never stopped screaming and began to kick and punch him frantically, but he was stronger than I. He held me down and moved to stab me again, shouting as he did.

“I tell you I love you, and you dismiss me?”

Those words were followed by more searing pain as he sank the knife into my arm.

“You cannot dismiss me!”

The knife slid close to my neck, narrowly missing as I turned.

The pain. The pain was the worst I had felt, and I started feeling as if I was falling into a dark hole. I heard myself still screaming, but I felt as if the sound was no longer made by me. I hope someone else was listening; I wanted to be saved. I saw my right arm flailing in vain, trying to fight him off; I could no longer connect to my left arm. It had no feeling in it, and I could not move it. I looked down and I saw darkness seeping up my legs slowly, like a shadow. I felt as if I was looking at this happening; I was here and not here at the same time. The shadow had reached my hips. Where was it taking me? I did not want to know the answer; I just knew I didn’t want to go there. I found some strength and reached out, finding my purse that had been flung on the ground in the attack. I swung it with everything in me towards his face as he had his arm lifted, preparing to stab me once more. Spit had begun to collect at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes had grown at least three times their size. He was mad. My purse hit him squarely in the face, and I heard him make a sound that sounded like ‘oof’, and he collapsed onto the roadway. I guess the metal water bottle I carried every day had a purpose after all. The knife went flying out of his hand and landed between us. I looked at it, and I knew what I had to do. I crawled to it and picked it up, and before he could recover, I rose onto my knees, and I stabbed him in the chest. That was all I had in me. I felt myself fall back into the street; the shadow was closer now. As if in a dream, I saw him get up, grab the knife that was in his chest, and pull it out.

He looked at me, shocked. Almost as if he had not expected me to fight back, shocked at my very audacity to not be killed quietly. I watched as he lost power over his legs and slumped down in the street. A gurgle escaped his lips, and he coughed, and I saw the flow of blood.

I looked up at the sky, and it had grown darker. The passage of time was lost on me as I realised my fate. Had no one heard all the commotion? Was no one coming to help? I raised my only working arm and saw the shadow had taken over. This is not so bad, I think, not so bad. I closed my eyes as I felt a warm feeling take over my body. Suddenly, I felt that feeling you have when you are falling in a dream. I was falling, falling very fast. The darkness was all around me, and I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed; all I perceived was darkness and warmth. The warmth was nice, the darkness was a welcome reprieve from the brightness of every day; there was also the silence. Thick and heavy, I welcomed it all.

In a moment, my descent slowed significantly, and the darkness waned. Flames flickered in each corner of the space. Imperceptible space. Just flame and shadow. I landed softly onto black sand; it looked like the black sand of Icelandic beaches. Volcanic ash. The landscape around me took shape, and I could see a vast land of volcanic rock, ash, and sand. All around was black, and the flames flickered in random pits. I began to walk, and I felt the warmth come off the flames. I get closer to one pit, stretched out my hand, and let the fire lick and caress my skin. I keep walking, deeper and deeper into the landscape, suddenly aware of my pain. The cuts that were made by that man began to burn as if they had fire inside, but also, I felt a deep inner pain. The pain of my soul is extremely perceptible. I had a visceral reaction to it; it came through and out of my stomach. I retch and spew green liquid. I see all my hopes and dreams splash upon the hot rocks and evaporate in the heat. I empty my body of everything that I hold dear; what is the meaning of all of it? Why am I here? What is even here?

After what feels like an eternity of emptying my body, I check and notice the wounds have stopped bleeding. This does not make sense. I had felt as if my life was being drained from me, as the number of times he stabbed me increased. I should be dead; how could they have stopped bleeding? Was I dead? Was this hell or purgatory? I straightened up and looked all around me at the vast landscape of what looked like how I had imagined religious people described hell, at least the closest estimation of hell. Heaven did not have firepits. Heaven wasn’t a dark and dead wasteland. There was no green here, no life, save for the bubbling of the fire pits. The darkness had been cut by the fire, but the silence had gotten even more deafening. Why was I here? I know I was not an angel, but did I truly deserve hell?

I stepped further into this space, and the ground started to feel softer as I went on. I am walking on mud now; I look on as it bubbles up in the heat. My feet sink deep into the mud, and soon I am stuck and cannot move any further. I immediately accepted my fate because what could I do? I was in a space, in a place that was like hell, or was hell with no one around. Why would I fight? There was no point in fighting. I stopped moving and resigned myself to whatever fate dictated.

Movement came from the corner of my eyes; something appeared to be coming from the depths of the mud. I turned and saw a figure draped in a blue cloak, its pale face and hands providing a stark contrast in the black landscape. The mud did not sully the figure’s cloak, and when it had fully emerged, it floated above it towards me. As it grew closer, I saw it had vibrant blue eyes that made me feel exposed. I could not look away and was stuck in the mud, looking at them. I found it hard to tell if the figure was human or what gender it was, as the more I looked at it, the more I realised that it did not have just one face. It seemed to be going through an array of facial features, never landing on one face for too long; it was both unnerving and intriguing. They stopped about a foot away from where I was stuck in the ground and pulled their arms out from inside the long sleeves of the cloak. It held a blue gemstone on a black chain in its right hand and held it toward me.

“Do you know why you are here, my child?”

I shook my head; I was a bit scared to speak.

“I…I…I don’t know where I am,” I managed to stutter.

The figure smiled, or at least I think I was able to make out a smile on its ever-changing face, and I felt myself get lifted out of the mud. I was lifted out and placed on what felt like stone, just a few feet away from the creature.

“You are in what we like to call the In Between. Here is where the human forms come to get judged. You are tried, and if you are found to be wanting, we allow the landscape to take you. It is our gift to this place. The more you humans come here, the toxic lot of you, the more we can keep it tame.”

I looked around at the numerous burning fires and wondered if that was the landscape being tamed. I did not want to be here when it wasn’t. I looked into the figure’s stark blue eyes and asked the question that was suddenly on my lips.

“Was…was I found to be wanting? Are you going to let the landscape keep me? Am I dead?”

The figure smiled again, and I felt this intense pull. I felt the urge to move closer to them, but I somehow resisted.

“No. Despite what you did to get here, you were not found to be wanting. You may be a curious case yet. I have been instructed to send you back.”

“What? Send me back to…where?”

“Send you back to your life. You were removed too soon; there is much life for you to live. Of course, you do have a choice. You can always stay here, and we will send you along, but that will have to be your choice as we will have to find someone to give the rest of your life allotment to.”

“Oh. So, I can say yes, and I go back to my life, or no, and I get to see where you will take me? Hmm.”

I looked away from their intense gaze and contemplated my choice. I had always thought that I was so fed up with the life I lived, but then again, here I was, barely dead, and given a choice to be fully alive and wanting nothing but to breathe that life again. I felt an intense longing for the experiences that I was yet to have, and I knew what my decision would be.

“I want to go back,” I said, meeting their intense gaze.

They nodded, and without a word, I felt a tingling that moved up from my ankles. I looked down and saw the same shadow I had seen before I had reached this place; the shadow that had deposited me here. I closed my eyes and welcomed the sensation as it rumbled upward, and my mouth opened into a scream. The scream released the tension I did not realise I was experiencing, and I started to feel delirious. I felt as if I was being consumed and renewed at the same time.

I woke up, and my eyes took a minute to adjust. I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I was in the hospital, the machines sounded loud in my ear, and the light was a little bit too harsh, but I was alive. My sister was at my bedside, and she had fallen into a doze with her mouth hanging open and her head cocked to the side. I chuckled seeing her in that familiar state. I saw an overnight bag on the floor next to her feet, clothing spilling from it; she had been there for a while. Knowing her, she had dropped everything when she had heard and bullied the doctors to allow her to stay in my room. My sister, my soulmate, my backbone. I was happy to be alive, and I was happy to see her again. This was the beginning of a new life for me, the beginning of new experiences. I had gotten a second chance, and I was about to make the most of it.

Omega Francis is a writer from Trinidad & Tobago who has self-published four books: Beneath My Skin and Mindspace (poetry), Through Her Eyes, and Raw (short stories).  Her writing has been published in Harness Magazine, UWI Today, Intersect Antigua Online, and Small Axe/SX Salon.