The forest pulsed with colours she
didn’t know existed. Clara leaned against a tree, her fingers sinking into its
bark as if it were breathing, alive in a way she could feel. Every leaf
shimmered, a cascade of fractals spilling down into eternity. Her body felt
both infinite and dissolving. She could hear her heartbeat, not in her chest
but in the ground beneath her. It synced with the rhythm of something ancient,
a hum that vibrated through the soil and into her bones. Her breath became
mist, but it didn’t dissipate; it danced, swirling in intricate patterns before
her eyes. A version of herself stared back from the haze, her eyes wide with
the same wonder she felt in this moment.
“Who are you?” Clara asked.
“Whoever you need me
to be.” The voice was her own, echoing as the mist broke apart, spinning away
in ribbons that wrapped around the trees before fading into the vibrant,
breathing night.
She stepped forward, her legs unsteady, each movement
leaving trails of light in the air. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but
she felt no fear. The forest wanted her here, every root and branch leaning
closer as if welcoming her home. A stream bubbled nearby, the water not clear
but glowing, swirling with colours like melted jewels. She knelt by it and
cupped her hands, letting the liquid drip through her fingers. As it touched
her skin, it sang—a symphony so beautiful that tears rolled down her cheeks.
She walked as if it were all one moment, feeling herself
blend with all the colours around her. The forest was her, and she was the
forest. She could no longer tell where her heartbeat ended
and the hum began.
When the first light of dawn painted the sky in pale orange
and pink, Clara emerged from the woods. She looked back, expecting to see the vibrant
kaleidoscopic beauty of the night, but it was just trees now, still and
ordinary. She stared at her hands; they were her hands again, not glowing or
dissolving.
Yet in her chest, the hum remained.
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