Fireflies

The night was cool and the silence absolute with the exception of the sound made by her bare feet rushing through the moist grass. She was out of breath, but kept running. Anything was better than having to sit still and feel the pressure of the night pressing hard against her temples. The dampness was beginning to creep up her nightgown as if it were vines, causing the fabric to cling to her legs; she merely pulled it off and kept running. The air was now gently caressing her nude body as she flung her head back to admire the celestial beauty. She smiled; the stars were not only dancing in the sky, but in the blackness of her eyes. Her late-night excursion had led her to the edge of the forest and she knew deep down she could go no further, however just the thought of going back sent spasms of anxiety through her entire being. Panic stricken, she bolted to the first tree she could reach, leaned against it, shut her eyes tightly and began to sing. She sang and sang until the echo of her own voice soothed her. In between breaths, she could hear the leaves applauding and this was all the encouragement she needed. As her worries subsided, her voice grew stronger and more pure. She was happy. There were now lights treading on her eyelids, she supposed they were from the fireflies that must have come to waltz about. Smiling, she finally opened her eyes to admire the spectacle only to find the absence of such creatures. She immediately fell silent. She was horror-struck: they had come to get her, the men with the cold hands. It was too late, they were too close, she could not escape this time, she could never escape. They were closing in on her, calling out her name with that falsified softness in their voices. When, by the light of the moon, she caught a glimpse of the silver rod that stings, she began to scream. They threw themselves on her; two of them restrained her while the third sedated her. As they took her back to the castle with the cold rooms, she could still hear the leaves applauding.