...I'm... I'm losing my breath...
I seem to
hear
a distinctcacklein the midst of my sneezing, and I see agolden
figurestanding still in the middle of theblue mist, and thegreen trees. But my eyes
arewatery, and my face is feelinghot, contrasting with thecoolnessof the air
around me and thehumid grassbelow me, and as such, I can't know for sure thatthat
ghost
in the trees is
real
, and is laughing at me, sneering because of me, or if it is just a
delusion
because of my constant sneezing.
...Stop... Please stop... I'm...
I'm starting to feel
di
zz
y
, my head is
spinning
, the world is going
round
and
round
in my eyes, but my nose doesn't stop feelingitchy, and my mouth doesn't seem tohold still, it doesn't let me catchair, anyairat all, theoxygenthat not so long ago
was flowing so freely out of my mouth, theoxygenthat I need, theoxygenthat I
need to live...!
...What's going on
?
I keepsneezingandcoughingandcryingand now I'm alsodrooling, and I should
have fallen down already, but I'm still standing and holding my belly, and I'm stillseeing that samegoldenfigure that is still standing in that same middle of themist,
in that same middle of thetrees, ... meaning that it's
real
, and not a
delusion
. Atthe thought of this, the figure's mouth seems to move, and then I hear a distinctivelaugh, acackle, like someone's having fun watching mesufferlike this,....alonein
the middle of the forest, surrounded by evil butterflies and anemptyspace!
What the hell do you want from me?!
And suddenly,silence. I stop sneezing. I stop crying my eyes out. My belly stopshurting. And then, I feel a hugerelief,my lungs catching a lot of airat once. I look
around, and notice that everything is changed. The mist is now ashining blue,covering the whole area,darkeningthe horizon. The butterflies are gone, thetrees
seem taller, wider and less cluttered, and I can't see the sky. The air is stillcold, butthe floor has also changed. Thegrassis shorter, and it doesn't feel as cold asbefore.
Just.... where am I, really?
It is a world of blue,green, andyellow.
"
It is a
world of illusion
."Thegolden figurestarted talking to me. Ablondewoman, with a finedress. I could
see her clearly now. She was holding asmoking pipe, and was sitting on arock
bench."It is your
world of illusion
", she continued. "Where you go from here, is up to you."
...Who are you?
"
Don't be a fool; you knowwho I am. Don't worry, though, becausenot remembering does not
necessarily mean not knowing
." She spoke words of wisdom, andsmokeda little. She
made me remember a story where a little blonde girl was looking for the way homeand instead found a centipede who liked to smoke letters, among other curiousindividuals.
I am looking for the way home.
"
Well, indeed you are
." She said, looking at me. I kept looking at her and sheseemed to notice something. "
Oh, you want an answer! Well, sorry, I though it was
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