Written by Jacob Ibrag

Yesterday you whispered goodnight

to him, lying that you’ll be there in the

morning. Planning and waiting for the

opportune moment to run away. Instead

you close your eyes and with that, your

guard faded. Asleep in your cozy bed in

the middle of sun soaked Brazil, only to

wake submerged in a powdery white grave.

Unable to feel your skin except for the

breathing tube placed between your lips.

Left for dead or was it an option to live?

You want to cry but hold back the tears,

‘this isn’t how I die, tomorrow will be

another day.’ Your mind starts to wander

into the darkness, begging to return to a

more permanent dream state. Seconds before

drifting, a voice floods your ears and mind.

Barely being able to hear anything except a

for a couple of sentences, ‘run away, run

away. Follow the frozen footsteps back to

me.’ That voice, it was him. It had to be.

Art by inetgrafx


4 comments on “Footsteps

  1. Well written! Nice perspective on the fight back to life. Or is it a fight against the pull of the other side. Sometimes it takes the call of one who loves you so deeply that they refuse to let go. Beautiful perspective!

    Liked by 1 person

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