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Water from God

A Halloween short story
Gabriella Lopez

Half conscious, I don’t know how to wake up. My body won’t move, but I can still feel the wet leaves beneath me. Not knowing where I am, I try to listen. It sounds pretty, like a playlist of the rainforest with different animals, singing a harmonious song. However, behind the playlist, I can hear a woman and a man murmuring about a girl. It was said that if they don’t find her, they won’t see tomorrow.

My heart beats as if it knows something I don’t. I can hear their voices grow a little louder. “They might be able to help me,” my mind convinces me. My soul shouts “Get up and run.” I panicked without moving a muscle, suddenly I couldn’t breathe. A drop of water silenced my body, one drop, two drops, three. I got up and gasped for air. Water running down from my face; was it the water God woke me up with or from my eyes, I still couldn’t tell you.

 My eyes burned from the high sun as if I had just fled from prison through the underground tunnels. My eyes squinted; I looked around. The harmonious song grew silent as reality settled in. I was deep in the forest and I couldn’t remember a thing.

The smell of iron overtook the sweet fragrance of the forest. I tried to get up to investigate the smell and realized my right arm had a gash on it and was dripping with blood. I bit on a stick and tried to tie my arm with my orange jacket sleeve. The pain brought me to a flashback. I was in a dimly lit cabin that smelled like dollar store perfume, Marlboros cigarettes, and boxed wine. It seemed like I broke free from my lacerations and had a steak knife hidden behind my back. My flashback cut to me fighting with an English woman and she slashed my arm. I then shoved her, and she hit her head on the ash-covered coffee table as I ran out the front door.

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Suddenly, I was brought back by a shiver swiftly running down my back by an English accent in the far distance. I grab a stick to make my now vermilion jacket into a tourniquet. I don’t know why I’m out here and I don’t know who I’m running from, but I do know I can’t be found, and I can’t trust anyone. I may die out here, but I promised myself I wouldn’t be the only one. 

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About the Contributor
Gabriella Lopez
Gabriella Lopez, Graphics Editor
Gabriella Lopez is a senior majoring in digital media design with a minor in marketing. She is from Fort Lauderdale and now lives on campus. She has been working with graphics for seven years and has multiple certifications including Adobe Photoshop and Premiere. She has been helping Eagle Media since her sophomore year and has held the official title of Graphics Editor for over a year now. When she is not making the Eagle News magazine, she can be found biking around campus or reading a new book.

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