Floating... Falling - by by Annecy York

Dreams of Beauty, Dreams of Horror





She was with Papa again. They were in a beautiful garden, and Papa was seated on the grass just
beyond her, rather a shadowy figure as he played his beloved violin.  Music filled the air.  The softest
of summer breezes caressed her face and teased her hair as she drifted to and fro on a swing.  Her
fingers curled lightly round the vine-covered ropes while she dreamily contemplated the flowers
trailing from the swing above her head and below her dainty buckled shoes, wafting their delicate
perfume into the air around her, some of the exquisitely coloured petals floating down to rest and
form a fragile carpet on the soft grass.  Back and forth she swung, long hair hanging like a cloud of
chestnut curls behind her.

 The gentle motion of the swing continued, until gradually, her eyelids became heavy and she grew
quite sleepy.  The sun was warm on her face, the violin sang out its sweet melody and the
atmosphere was conducive to pleasant imaginings. Then all of a sudden she was startled into
wakefulness, for it was as though someone or something came behind her and started to push the
swing.  At first she laughed delightedly, thinking it was Papa.  She called out to him, but he did not
answer. The music changed to harsh, discordant sounds, the notes crying out a warning.  She looked
round for him, but he had gone from her sight.  A menacing black cloud appeared and hid the sun as
a chill wind sprang up and the lovely sunlit garden slowly crumbled around her until there was nothing
but a cold, dark area of sinister shadows.

 Stronger and more violent became the intensity of the thrusting force behind her as higher and higher
she soared.  Her eyes opened wide with fear as the swing came up level with the crossbar of the
poles, then rushed down and backwards and up again with terrifying speed.  She screamed over and
over again as she gripped the ropes with all her strength. The swing went hurtling up skywards, then
formed a wide arc as the ropes snapped and she was hurled into the air.

She was falling.  Down and down, onwards and ever downwards into a huge, bottomless black pit.
The breath was knocked from her body as she tried to scream. No sound issued from her mouth.
She was powerless, caught in a whirling vortex of air, hissing past her with numbing chill. The
vastness of the abyss was infinite.  She was dwindling into a speck of nothingness.
Falling....falling....ever falling....

 And then unexpectedly, the headlong plunge lessened and slowed down until eventually, she found
that she was floating.

 The horrifying precipitation into darkness ended as she began to float.  She spread her arms wide
like that of the wings of a swallow, then soared and dipped her way up out of the great dark
cosmos.  She flew upwards and onwards to the light, oh! such welcoming light after the freezing
blackness of the pit.  Warmth, sunshine and light!  Papa, I’m coming, wait for me!

 Her body was an arrow, arms and hands pointing straight up in front of her to freedom.  Then
something hit her.  Struck her hard in the chest.  Her arms fell helpless, dangling by her sides as her
senses deserted her and she knew nothing save that once more, she was floating...falling...

 Falling...down...down...  Floating...weightless...soft as a feather spiralling downwards...

 Someone was singing.  The voice of an angel uplifted in song.

 The darkness had a different quality;  softer, warmer, not as dense and cold.  She could see through
the gloom a little.  A shape below her;  a shadowy form with arms upraised.  A gleaming sliver of
white flashed in the surrounding blackness.

 And then...and then there was the feeling of both softness and firm stability as those upraised arms
caught her, strong welcoming arms which came deftly around her and broke her fall.  She could see
nothing, hear nothing;  could only sense the formless dark shape and feel a velvety warmth
surrounding her trembling body.  Bewilderment turned to panic;  her body grew rigid as she drew in
a breath to scream.

“I beg you, do not be frightened.”



Go to Chapter 3 of Floating... Falling.


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