Stepping Back Into Her Memories- Creative Writing

Stepping Back Into Her Memories- Creative Writing
The cold fingers grasped around her throat and the long nails pierced into her skin, driving her down the icy water? screaming as she sat straight up; shaken by the dream, she tried gain control of her breath. Her fingers carefully ran through her neck finding no marks as she surveyed the familiar surrounding: she was safe in her bedroom; her long hair still clung to her face and a few cold sweat was visible on her forehead; it was the same nightmare that have haunted her for a long time, her mind was racing ? The air pressed against her chest, thick and heavy. She stopped to catch her breath, drops of perspiration slid down her spine. There was not a breath of wind, but the glare of blazing heat devoured every drop of moisture. She looked at the long, deserted, cobbled path that seemed to have been melted by the sun.
For countless months her sister had haunted her footsteps in her dreams, night by night, growing deep into her heart until she could not tear her away. There was no way out. The only thing she could do now was to step back into her past and confront her nightmare. With each painful step she took, she sank deeper into the bottomless pit of her memories, and got closer to her long lost home, and the winding river of her dream. It had been thirteen long years since she walked out of this life and swore never to return. Her parents had passed away, but nothing had changed; the same old, familiar air of hatred once surrounded her, like an endless rope tightening around her neck. She could now see the forlorn cottage, the cottage which was once her home. Her heart started to race: she was a vulnerable girl again, her father coming out with a whiskey bottle, his cold eyes piercing into her bare face. A sudden chill bought her back to her sense; the cottage stood desolately on the small bare hill which was once covered in green, its shabby door tightly shut. She looked away from the cottage, and brushed away those painful memories with her tears. She continued walking down to the river, which once danced lightly in the sun and was now a bottomless black hole. The atmosphere around her started to change; the heat slid away, and a chill started to creep up her spine. There stood the old wooden bridge, the place where she spent most of her childhood counting the number of pebbles under the clear water. The steps creaked as she walked up the bridge, and she could almost smell the unwelcoming air. Unable to shut out the memories anymore that flooded her heart? sore memories of when she was a little girl, who wished she was never born? she saw her drunken father coming home at night, thrashing her because he?d lost at gambling; she saw herself hiding in a corner crying out her misery; she saw her mother softly caressing her sister who was loved by everyone; she saw her jealousy grow like burning fire, and saw herself watching her own sister falling into the river? It had been thirteen long years, but the past could not be shaken off. She could hear her sister?s mellifluous voice floating in her ears, and see her smiling sweetly in victory. She could feel the chill air twisting around her neck, flowing through her bones, as she gasped for breath, sinking deep into the black hole, dissolving with the water.

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