The Fall

Six Months Earlier…

I was falling.

There was no rush of air.
No sky.
No sense of how far there was to go.

Just the drop.

Not spinning. Not flailing. Just… falling.
Like the world had let go of me and decided not to tell me why.

And the pain in my ribs was back.
That old ache—the one from before—tight and deep like a bruise buried under something else.
It didn’t make sense.
Nothing had touched me.
Nothing had caused it.
But it was there, holding on like memory.

Then—

I saw the wall.
Not a dream version.
The wall.

The one from The Well, just before the drop. The one I hit with my head.

And somehow, I felt it again.
The sharpness behind the eye. The jolt in my jaw.
Even though I wasn’t anywhere near it now.
Even though it had already happened.

My body remembered.

And through that blur of falling, something moved below me.

That thin figure.

Still far, but closer than before.
Not floating. Not falling.
Just there.

Waiting.

I twisted in the air—somehow.
The motion felt right, even though there was no air, no pull.
And then—

The ground from Through.
The cracked path.
The tree with no leaves.
The sound of something skittering just out of view.

My shoulder lit up.

A new pain? No.
Another old one.
From that time I fell and caught myself with the wrong arm.
Or maybe from a moment that hadn’t happened yet.

And lower down—

The figure again.

Thinner than before.
Its head angled up now.

Watching.

I fell past a shadow that wasn’t cast by anything.
And then—

There it was.

The camera.
Tripod tilted.
Lens aimed too high, like someone set it up in a rush and forgot to check it.

I tried to look away.

But the pressure in my head surged, like a laugh that wouldn’t come out.
Something was off about that tripod.
It looked like it was pointed at me.

And just below—

The figure again.

Closer.

I reached out—
to nothing.
Nothing met me. Nothing slowed me.

Not the wind.
Not the light.
Not even time.

I passed the wall from Parched.
The one that melted into the red stone.
And I remembered the heat in my palms even though there was no surface to press against.

The world around me flickered.

Like film skipping.
Like someone editing out the safe parts.

I turned.
Or maybe the world did.
And now—

The figure was almost beneath me.

Arms stretched out—not to catch, but to meet me.

And I laughed.

Loud and ugly. The kind of laugh that doesn't sound like it's yours.
I didn’t know why.

I just—

laughed.
It grabbed me.