“It’s okay…sssh…” someone said again. It was all I could hear. Everything seemed like a dream now. The air felt thick and heavy. The Mud weighed me down, making my movement slow and labored. It was simpler to not move at all.
We were all in a Mud pit. Sure, we had been told never to set foot in this pit, but it wasn’t my fault, really. All my friends looked like they were having fun. Who was I to deny myself the same enjoyment? And it was fun, for a few minutes. Splashing around, feeling the Mud run in between my toes.
Now it’s dark. I can barely see three feet ahead of me. I’ve wiggled so much that I’m up to my neck in Mud, and slowly sinking. But at this point, I can’t think clearly. I want to close my eyes and let the Mud cover me completely. I wonder what would happen then.
I start to feel some pain in my toes.
"It’s okay, sssh…” I hear someone else in the Mud say. I look over to see a woman with her eyes shut, up to her chin in Mud. She doesn’t want to be disturbed. What I want to know is if she’s talking to me or to herself. I guess I know that it’s not okay. We’re not supposed to be here. But I should be able to do what I want. I’m so tired anyway…no sense in fighting it now.
I am about to close my eyes when I hear a moan. There is a man, rather a blurry image of a man a few feet away. Everything makes me dizzy. He sounds like he’s in pain. His moaning grows and grows and then turns to screams of agony. Maybe his feet are hurting too.
“Sssh…it’s okay…” come several voices. I realize I had chimed in too. We don’t want to be disturbed. Whatever’s bothering him shouldn’t bother us. His screams get louder and everyone shuts their eyes tighter. The mud is up to my bottom lip now. I see the man screaming, his head facing the black sky. The Mud finally slides into his mouth, over his nostrils, and closes in over him. The screaming stops. Everyone’s eyes relax.
“Sssh…it’s okay,” I hear again. My feet hurt more now, and my legs hurt a little bit too. I want to get out. But…maybe the pain will stop on its own.
It doesn’t stop. I’m spitting the foul-tasting Mud out of my mouth now. Through the blurriness of this dream, the weariness, the desperate longing for quiet, I realize that this place is not good. I should never have come here. The Protector was right.
“…it’s not okay…” I manage to mumble. I try moving my arms. They won’t budge. The pain is getting greater. I was wrong. This is a bad place. I’m not supposed to be here.
“It’s not okay,” I say again, with a bit of volume in my voice. I try to wiggle harder. I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to get out. “It’s not okay.”
"Sssh…” someone says. They don’t feel it yet. They don’t realize the pain they’re about to go through. Or maybe they do. Maybe they’re just hoping it will go away. They’re lying to themselves. This isn’t okay.
“No…” I blurt. My voice aches. My head is spinning. I push as hard as I can, trying desperately to get out. My legs burn. I was wrong.
“Got to get out,” I continue. Maybe someone will listen. I yelp in pain as my legs hurt more. Slowly, agonizingly, my right arm begins to muscle its way up to the surface.
“Sssh…” come several voices. Don’t they see? Can’t they see what’s going on? We’re all going to drown in here, one by one, and NOBODY is going to realize it!
“Help!” I yell, my voice cracking. The Mud tastes horrible. I can’t get out. I’m in too deep. My hand slowly works its way out of the Mud, dripping with strange red stuff. I hurt all over now. “HELP!” I scream. The others are closing their eyes tight.
“It’s okay…sssh…” they chant.
“HELP ME! I WAS WRONG!” I cry out before my mouth is covered by Mud. My body is screaming in pain. Only my hand is free. My nose falls beneath the Mud. Then it slops into my ears, and flows over my eyes. I have never felt pain like this before. I realize with terror that this is it. I’m going to die here. I was an idiot. I deserve this.
I can’t think clearly. Every fiber of my body is screaming out in a deafening, pain-stricken voice. I feel like I’m freezing to death, or burning alive, or being stabbed with a thousand tiny knives. I beg for it to end quickly. Pain! I can’t even remember what it was like without it. The Mud squeezes in on me, pushing and sucking and stabbing the life out of me. Someone please end this! I can’t do this…it hurts too much…let me die…please let me die now…
I feel something grab my hand. It pulls me up, gently but firmly. Every inch of me that comes out from the Mud gasps at the relief. I wheeze and cough and take in the air. It tastes amazing; like I’ve never breathed before. I am picked up and placed onto the grass. I ache, and red stuff is coming out of me. I roll onto my back, the Mud sliding off of my body and dissolving into the grass. I am crying, my teeth are chattering, and my body is shuddering violently. I manage to open my weary eyes and look up at my rescuer.
It’s the Protector.
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If you liked this, check out some of Matthew's other works.