Yesterday while taking a walk down memory lane, I found this key that oddly enough seemed unlike any other lost key. I somehow knew it unlocked some special door. I had a crazy feeling that there was a doorâ€¦ But, here’s the thing, I didn’t know where the door was, or in the event that I found the door, where the door would lead me. With that in mind, I took the key and placed it on a shoe lace and tied it around my neck, as to not forget it. In the corner of my eye, orâ€¦ “Mind’s eye” rather, I could see a path forming and it somehow seemed normalâ€¦ normal like flowers blossoming or a tree growing. As if it were fates that lead me, I followed this windy narrow walkway, as it formed, to a now visible orchard. I walked into the orchard, leading myself to an interesting dead area, absent of greenery. There in the midst was this sort of gnarled and knobby looking tree. Its branches looked as if they had been removed, then complacently put back together. It had these sorts of pasty beige leaves on it, each of which looked as if it were hanging for dear life. The tree looked deadâ€¦but alive? Nonetheless, equally bizarre the tree had a knothole with a flag protruding right out of it. It was a maroon flag with a peculiar type of writing on it. I searched for an interpretation within myself, but none was to be found. Since this was memory lane, I figured that somewhere in the surrounding area I would find the memory that helped me read this interesting transcript, or whatever it was.
Here’s the ironic thing about the whole situation. Before taking this walk down what I saw as a harmless memory lane, I was told by my grandmother “The past is sinful. Do not look back unless you are searching for the truth.” I laughed thinking she was joking because obviously there is nothing wrong with gleaning on the past as well as the future. I mean, a lot of good things happened down memory lane. So really, I just wanted a quick recapâ€¦ to feel good for a few minutes. Nonetheless, here I was staring at this odd writing that resembled something out of a medieval novel. I was perplexed by it. Enthralled in the shapes and symbols, I reached up to scratch the top of my head but as touched my hair I could feel a warm wetness. I abruptly retracted my hand. Staring at my visibly dry hand perplexed me. So I hesitantly returned my hand to the wet spotâ€¦ still wet. Now feeling a bit anxious I looked again only to find that my hand wasâ€¦ dry? In a fit of idiocy, I frantically molested the top of my head, feeling for what I knew was not there but what I felt was. The “sensation” was so real and it was growing. I mean, the liquid was growing… The wetness was now pouring down my body; streams of an imaginary liquid now splashing to the floor. I could feel it rising up around my ankles. My feet were drenched. I forcefully averted my attention to the flag as I stood now soakedâ€¦ but dry. I ignored the feeling and focused my efforts on understanding the words on the paper that had undoubtedly cast a spell on me. THAT EVIL TREE! I had learned Arabic manuscript years ago and somehow convinced myself that I needed to revisit those thoughts to figure out what this flag of words meantâ€¦ but with every recollection came the debilitating discomfort of the liquid that was now somehow warm. Grasping onto the little bit of reality that I still new; I lay recalling what my grandmother had said. “Do not look back unless you are searching for the truth.” I thought aggressively as to what this could have meant because now I was trapped
I know how to swim… I mean I know how to swim in water, but this wasn’t water, this wasn’t even liquid in the form that we know liquid. I could see no fluid but the overwhelming feeling of anxiety gripped my body as the “wet” feeling grew more and more discomforting. This path had become a little bit more than what I bargained for… to say the least. I regained my composure and assured myself everything would be okay but breathing had now become more difficult. Coupled with the sensation of being submerged in water was the feeling that pressure (like the pressure of being under water) was encapsulating my body. I sprung backward to try to run… to maybe escape this feeling with the tangible solution but my movements were sluggish and inhibited. The weight on my legs caused me to stumble and I fell on the path that led me to the tree… In my right hand was still this weird looking script on the flag that I had found. I knew I couldn’t understand any of the writing but I frantically looked again… My desperate desire to find a cure for what was ailing me mentally at this point must have triggered an intellectual epiphany… The flag read: “beware the gnarly oak… it has the ability to secretly drown you!” The words began to get fuzzy and almost bleed off of the paper… I shook the paper and rubbed my eyes… Nothing… I repeated… Nothing… I was gasping now for the air I had so frivolously taken for granted in my complacent search for adventure. Now I lay in a place where there was only me… seemingly.
“Dear Sir, what ever is the matter?” A voice from the distance repeated to me what sounded like muffled sound (like trying to hear underwater) “What is the matter… Are you ill sir?” I could only reach out in desperation now feeling quite faint because of my lack of adequate oxygen. I held up the flag. “THE GNARLY CURSE!” He screamed. He grabbed my hand and told me to get up, but I couldn’t. “GET UP!” He yelled. At this point I knew I couldn’t move so I lay until about the 5th time he yelled… I grabbed my throat and he reached for his satchel. He pulled out a rather large needle and jabbed it into my throat… air rushed in as I gasped gurgled breaths in through my neck. My site began to clear and I could slightly make out the gentle… man? creature?… What was this?
If you would like to see the author complete this work, please comment and or email us here at Y-vonneAdams.com. Thanks again for your support.