the swing hums and sings

Left, right, left, right, left...

Right.

As the swing goes and the leaves touch my toes; when will it end?

Or perhaps it will never.

Humming the tune, the swing sang with me. The rusted chains and bars made a peculiar tandem. It was strange, though. It is yet to end. I didn't know when I arrived and how long I stayed, staring at the swing.

It seemed to be mocking me. The song didn't sound like a song anymore. It laughed at me, slow and menacing. To add to the strangeness I encountered, my mouth crept up to a small smile, then to laughter. The leaves rustled under the breeze, the red, red, candy-red leaves. But it doesn't smell sweet. The leaves matched the wine-dark sea. The sky was obscured through the sea, and I couldn't discern the horizon.

I like your necklace.

Thanks.

But there was no necklace, to begin with. Most importantly, there was no anyone.

I looked at the swing again. It didn't hum or sing anymore but is still swinging.

Oh, don't be scared now.

Who said I am?

The breeze became stronger, the leaves rustled louder. I removed my sweater. I wanted to feel the cold; the prickling of the wind on my skin. White shirt and black, thin pants. My feet were hidden beneath the subtle warmth of the pants so I wasn't sure if I wore a pair of shoes or not. Funnily enough, I was reminded of Schrodinger's cat.

I felt like I was naked, no shirt and pants were clinging to me. There was no heaviness in the heart. It was very strange — the rock that was with me, the rock that kept me in the rocks of the ocean, the rocks that had replaced my heart as I thought, suddenly vanished. I knelt down slowly, small rocks and leaf edges carving words in my knees. A vulnerable state. I couldn't breathe properly, so I closed my eyes. When I opened my eyes, everything slowed down.

Eyes closed, as you ventured on a continuous path. Rise and fall.

Where do you think you are now?

Fall, I shall. Eyes shut and body limp, I fell into an ice-cold depth. There was nothing to hear and see. Tranquil once, then ragged breaths next. Rustling of leaves, waves crashing, and

I sat back up, tiredly. The cold wind moves the leaves. Without much thought, I looked up with a blurry sight.

A still swing.

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