Thick strokes of brown, every shade of brown, faded together like the sands of a beach, or a desert. I can see ditches and dunes in the distance, though whether they are real or a figment of my imagination I do not yet know. Off in the distance, the brown switches to blue, all shades of blue, though I cannot tell whether it is ocean or sky. White highlights appear as clouds that turn the blue space into a sky, but a green hue in the mass reminds me of sea foam and seaweed, the things of the sea. I decide not to choose which one it is, but instead to let it be both.
Whatever it is, sea or sky, it seems lonely. There are no trees, no birds, no creatures to accompany the vast expanse of color. It lies in wait, waiting for something, someone to come along and fill it with feeling, to give life to its empty space. Yet somehow, it already possesses life. The sands shift in an imaginary wind, the sea buffing in the breeze and the sky smiling down at it all. It is not void. It does feel. It is free. Free from stress and decisions. Free from constraint. Utterly, absolutely free.
Someone calls my name. Reluctantly, my eyes flutter open. I have fallen back into reality. The brown shades of a whispering sand and the deep blues of an ocean sky disintegrate and in their place rest women in tattered dresses. The shackles around my wrist remind me that in this place, I am anything but free. Dirtied faces of my young companions hold varied expressions; disdain, sorrow, fear. My expression remains blank as my eyes are lifted to the iron bars, where on the other side stands a guard in wait. This time, his gaze falls upon me. It is my turn.
Slowly, I stand, all eyes in the cell watching as the iron gate opens only for me, then locks my companions back inside. I stumble after the guard, legs sore from lack of use, my arms trapped uselessly in front of me. My eyes do not move from the floor until I feel a tug on my neck as he ties me to the gallows. Only then to I look up to see the solitary window before me, the landscape. It is their attempt to make us happier as we are unfairly murdered. Instead of keeping my eyes on the window, I squeeze them shut, seeing instead the beautiful brown sand and wide blue ocean sky. I see my freedom, and I reach for it as the veil is tugged over my eyes.
Heart-wrenching, Emmi. I love the way you describe the ambiguity in the image: "white highlights appear as clouds that turn the blue space into a sky, but a green hue in the mass reminds me of sea foam and seaweed, the things of the sea. I decide not to choose which one it is, but instead to let it be both." And how you circle back to it in the end as a comfort to the person in such an unjust final moment. Beautifully written.
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