Trigger warnings

Dark subjects
Mention of fear, blood, getting lost, death.
Potential implications of other dark subjects based on interpretation
Read at your own discretion

Midnight Walk

When the girl was no older than a child, she used to know this place like the palm of her hand; but that all changed some time ago. She did not know how much. She could not come here as often, and only during night time. The path she once knew was replaced by trees blocking her way; the flowers which she used to water everyday were nowhere to be seen; thorns were now griping to her bare skin whenever they had the chance to come close; only a few leaves remained on the trees clinging to the hopes their lives were not at their very end; the soft grass was now replaced by messy roots; and the last parcels of grass now had an ugly yellowish color and tickled her just underneath her knee. There was a cold wind brushing her hair in all sorts of crazy ways and making her feel cold. She was surrounded by a protective wall of trees and that was enough for the girl in the forest.

Everything was so different.

The little girl listened. The forest was silent. The wind was too slow to make any sounds; she found that roots or branches did not snap underneath her weight; she could not hear a single animal hooting or howling or anything of the sort. Once again, she could only feel the loneliness that struck her even more. Was she deaf? Of course, she wasn’t; she could hear her feet hitting the roots on the ground in an energyless sort of way. But she knew that if she stopped advancing through the forest; tripping on the messy roots; moving the lower branches; stepping on dead leaves; kicking sharp rocks; she would be able to hear her own heartbeat.

Despite all of this, the girl carelessly kept walking. It felt good to finally be outside and enjoy the freedom of the forest. She did not care for the emptiness that surrounded her, she told herself. In fact, she found this wall that surrounded her comforting in a way. Nothing could see her. Nothing could find her. She would hopefully be left alone for a few hours. At least until the sun sets.

How much time is that?

The girl’s eyesight was getting a little bit better by the minute, yet she could not see well. She had to use her other senses, mainly her sense of touch, in order to advance. The moon, which she had thought to be pretty and full of life from the interior of her home, only reflected a little bit of life, hidden by a giant veil of death. The only light it could offer was cold and dead, a mere reflection of itself. So she would extend her arm in the direction of the shadows until she could find another trunk of a tree, she would then hold on to it and get closer to it, to then repeat the step over again. When a big enough root appeared on her path, she could not see it and she therefore fell into a sort of thud she was used to. She found the dead husk of a trunk, which she was sure was once a magnificent tree, and climbed back up to her feet. She felt around her knee the burning sensation of a new cut. She did not really care. She had lived through worse things.

So many worse things.

Although the girl could feel pain in her knee, she did not cry nor care about such trivial pain. It would be one scar amongst many on her body. Who but she knew how many scars, how many bruises, how many scratches she had hidden over the years? She usually had to hide her frail body behind dark and heavy clothes, but tonight, even in those light clothes, she knew most of them were still covered. They had been placed strategically, methodically, of course.

Was it shame or fear that forced her to hide them?

Now you might wonder where the girl was going. Truth is, she did too. Now that she could see a little better, she would advance even more carelessly, from tree to tree until later, she could go in between them without having to move their lowest branches. She could feel the blood, which had been dripping from her cut, starting to dry up a little bit. She just kept advancing. All that she wanted out of this night was simply to forget about her days.

Terrible days.

The girl could see bricks. She had never seen those here before. Slight rays of moonlight reflected lazily on the surface of the remains of old broken windows that remained in the holes in the walls of this abandoned monument. Perhaps in a past life, this place was the core of life around here, but now it was nothing more than mere walls with a collapsed ceiling, scraps of broken machinery and barely any remains of the life that once inhabited it. Sure, plants were running the place now, and wild animals hid amongst the debris, but those who built the place, or again those who might have lived or worked there, have been gone for years. Whatever this place was, it was no more than a memory, certainly a bad one too. Why was it abandoned if it was worth anything? Why was it left here to rot, if the people who inhabited the place felt anything it could offer were worth it? Why would people hurt something they love?

Why would people hurt something they love?

The girl did not enter the ruins of this old place. She knew that she could only get hurt there. She did not need to bleed more. Sure, she did not care that she had a new cut, but she did not really want more of them. She did not want questions to be asked to her, or maybe she did not want to give answers. She muttered under her breath about how the truth was impossible to give. She did not elaborate on this subject, although she repeated it once or twice after that. No one knows why it would be so important for her. Did she want for no one to know the truth, or did the truth hurt her too much?

They will never believe you.

I believe it is at this point the girl started crying. The tears ran slowly across her cheek coldly with a sort of heaviness only she could describe. Whatever caused those tears-not her wound from earlier-was strong. Perhaps they were the accumulation of everything in her life. Perhaps they were born from the fact that she was getting lost. Perhaps they were the results of overwhelming thoughts that poisoned the brain, like a tumor infecting it at a speed which could not be rivaled by any means. She told herself not to cry, but she knew it was vain. The tears kept flowing like a river. Using her hands, she whipped the tears as best as she could, like she was always told to do. She swallowed her pain and moved on. Walk it off, she told herself.

How often had she muttered those words under her breath?

So she walked it off. She always did. She knew she would always act like a little child; always crying when things did not go her way; had she not received reminders for her whole life that little pussies are worthless. How many times had she heard variations of such a basic rule of life? Whenever she thought she had suffered so much, she had to remind herself people had bigger problems and that hers were the one of a mere child. She was not a child.

Stop crying, you worthless b-

Suddenly, the girl found an old road. It had certainly not really been used for years, but there were signs vehicles used to go through this place: an absence of trees from left to right, harder dirt, shorter grass, and forgotten objects left on the sides. Now where should she go? She knew, based on the position of the moon, that going right would mean going home. She chose a side and stuck to it. Old abandoned objects sometimes layed here and there, hidden by the grass. Most of it were old rusty metal objects or rotting wooden remains. She had not really bothered to look at it though. She walked right around them. She could see the yellow tint in the grass that tickled just underneath her bleeding wound. She felt less protected by the forest than before. What used to be a massive wall surrounding her, protecting her from attacks was now the source from which it would arrive. I know everything will be alright, she hoped.

She had no right to have hope, she knew.

There was this old bridge on the path of the girl. It was made of sturdy concrete. Surely, despite the fact it hadn’t been looked after for who knows how long, the girl knew it was solid. She almost heard it before she saw it. She walked up the incline until she was in the middle of the bridge. For the first time since she went outside that night, she saw life. True animated life. Almost. Not real animal life; but a magnificent, animated river full of courent and certainly full of life. Sometimes, you could see the last remnants of the light of the moon reflecting amongst the speedy waves. She looked down from the center of the bridge. She could not see herself in the water; for she was too high.

If she were to fall from such a high place…

Who knows how long the girl stayed there, thinking, reflecting on everything? The sun began to rise. At first, it was only a slight change in the color of the sky, then the first rays began to appear lazily amongst the highest trees. Soon, it would finally, painfully, reach her. Its cold, unforgiving light would burn her skin again, covering her in new bruises and cuts. The cycle would begin again. Although the Sun is often regarded as the symbol of life, she did not see it. She did not like the sun: it was the reminder that it would begin all over again.

It seemed like it was time to go back home.