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by Anonymous | Score: 4350

The water passed over her, a viscous veil obscuring her vision, caressing her face. Before the darkness took her, and the mechanism of drowning infiltrated, her body, she thought how gentle it all felt.  How loving.

She awoke several hours later. Or several days.  Death makes meals of measuring sticks. Walking around her apartment, she felt the air ripple round her. A thick, malleable layer of tangibility had been infused into the space around her.  Walking to the fridge proved difficult, like wading through...well, water.

She feasted.  One after another,  scraps dropped to the floor. The takeout container from the  Vietnamese place she'd ordered from the other night, apple cores, banana peels, a. now-empty jar of pickles.  Stumbling, she raced toward the bathroom. The mirror. She needed to see.

Pale. Not deathly so. She'd seen the translucent white of death,  a gelatinous, blob of skin. But this was not that. Washed out, she thought. An old house in need of reshingling. A renaissance painting long past due for a touchup. But still vibrant, still alive.


Again her feet moved through sand.  Sluggish, lumbering. The food had settled and any fear of getting sick of it, dissipated. She was alive. Somehow. She should be happy. Ecstatic, even. But she could not shake the sense of dread building in her bones.

She shouldn't be alive. Shouldn't be experiencing the wave-like sensations all around her. How do you know? The thought startled her out of the haze she hadn't realized she'd slumped into. Maybe this is death. Maybe this is what comes next.

Doubt mostly born out of boredom convinced her that wasn't true. If a second life existed it would certainly be more interesting than her over-price studio apartment. Otherwise what would be the point.

The idea clung to her though. And before long she felt it suffocating her. She was dead.  Sucked down into the ocean like a bug. If she'd been rescued she'd be in the hospital. And even if her savior eschewed the more traditional methods,  there was no way they could know where she lived.

So what was this?

Her legs trembled and she had to hold onto the counter to steady herself. This was not happening. Maybe she wasn't really here. A trick of the mind. A final fucked up memory before brain death shut the lights out forever.  One foot in front of the other, she stumbled toward the window. Air. She became painfully aware of her sudden lack of fresh air. Her hands pressed against the window but with the air around her still thick like slush,  it felt immovable. Swollen and distended like a stubborn organ, petulant with fever, refusing to budge.

BANG! Her palm connected with the underside of the window and she heard the intimate details of wood and glass as their innermost particles began to split. BANG! A sharp hiss of breath as wood cracked and splinters were torn from each other's ancient arms. BANG! An explosion of wood and glass, but rushing in behind it, air. Cool,  restoring gulps of air crashed against her, assuring her life still existed and she could still count herself a part of it.

But the initial burst withered quickly. Subsumed by the claustrophobia of her studio, she. found herself wanting more. Needing it. The. screen fell away without effort. She didn't even recall pushing it. For years, Claudia marked acrophobia as her greatest fear. A dream in youth about falling from an airship into a dark field littered with torches standing out of the ground made sure of that. But now, desperate for  air, she thrust her head out of the fifth floor window without a thought. Falling would be preferable to the stocky suffocation of her apartment. At least then she would feel free. Weightless.

The sensation bolstered her. The idea of. breeze whipping past her, gently tickling the small hairs on her head. Wind like water crashing over her,  splitting around her as she cut through it.

Flying, she. thought. It feels. like flying,. She. opened. her eyes and found herself seventy feet abo

Completed challenges

The following challenges were completed during the writing exercise:

Begin Start typing to begin
Words Reach 50 words
Location An ocean
Prop Include a fridge
Words Reach 100 words
Words Reach 200 words
Words Reach 300 words
Words Reach 400 words
Words Reach 500 words
Words Reach 600 words

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