The Hum

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 mist, her eyes wide with the same wonder she felt now.

“Who are you?” Clara whispered.

The mist smiled, and its voice was her own. “Whoever you need me to be.” Then it 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 tears rolled down her cheeks.

She walked as if it were all one moment, feeling herself blend with everything 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 once, expecting to see the vibrant chaos 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.

But in her chest, the hum remained.