Young Writers Society

Who am I?

That was the first thought to ever enter my mind—or rather, the empty chamber that should have contained the answer to that question and every other question nobody wanted to find themselves asking.

Where am I? When? Why?

To find answers I would need to remember, but attempting to do so resulted in excruciating pain, pain that took up more space than I existed in, pain that clearly warned: backwards isn’t a direction your mind can travel.

Forward, then.

My eyes cracked open. Hazy shapes swam before me, a mesh of vibrant colours that bled into each other, none of them having a clear beginning or end. After a while, they slowed to a lazy drift, then sharpened and separated. My surroundings materialised, and with that came a sudden sense of gravity; I was lying atop a rough surface, my head tilted to one side.

I found myself inside a crescent-shaped cave, the opening of which was veiled by a vertical torrent. The water glistened and twinkled as sunlight filtered through from outside, creating a dancing display of light and shadow on the craggy walls.

A word formed in my mind. I said it out loud before I even decided to. My voice was deep, with a smooth, velvety tone.

"Waterfall."

How was it possible for me to know that? How could I know it was called a waterfall, but at the same time know I'd never seen one before?

There were too many unanswerable questions swarming around my mind. With each passing second, another would appear and sprout feverish wings before taking flight and joining the others. I needed to get up before I went insane. Or perhaps further insane would have been a fairer statement. There was just one slight issue; I couldn't move. My body felt like it hadn’t been used for a century (which for all I knew, was true). I had a vague sense of my extremities, but couldn't differentiate individual fingers and toes or the bend in my arms and legs. I was a slab of meat that barely resembled a human figure.

A slab of meat that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

***

I wasted about half a day attempting to stand.

The sun's position, which I saw through the waterfall, served as a rough measurement of time. When I woke, it had been hovering just above the floor. By the time I was ready to give up standing--I got as far as being able to wobble my legs--it had risen past the ceiling, taking much of my visibility along with it.

I was still determined to gain control of my body but now accepted, albeit resentfully, that I needed to start smaller. So, I closed my eyes, relaxed, and simply honed in on my senses.

My eyes ached for a few minutes after closing them but otherwise seemed to work. A white imprint of the sun danced on the back of my eyelids, like the eye of someone (or something) keeping me in sight.

The cave was filled with the thunderous roar of the waterfall. It sounded like it cascaded from high above and continued below for quite some time. It was so loud and incessant that my brain could tune it out altogether.

A mossy aroma clung in the air, catching in my nose with every inhale. I tried to breathe through my mouth but it made my tongue feel fuzzy and stiff.

My first breakthrough came when I explored my sense of touch. I felt the bumpy surface of the cave against my spine, and every painful stone beneath my head. But that wasn't all. It was so subtle that I surprised myself by detecting it at all.

Every so often I felt the gentlest of touches, like tiny insects landing on my exposed skin. One of them landed on my cheek and a tickling sensation trailed away from it, onto my nose.

Droplets. I opened my eyes and surveyed the edge of the cave. Sure enough, the waterfall clipped it in some areas, sending up splashes of water.

Somehow, the waterfall saved me.

Every drop helped me map out a new part of my body. More than that, the water gave me what I can only describe as . . . life. In fact, it stopped feeling like water altogether. Each droplet was like a tiny ball of energy seeping into my skin and igniting the muscles and bones beneath. And the more I opened myself up to the idea that the water was healing me, the better I started to feel. I felt a connection to the waterfall as if it were an extension of my own body, only not in a physical sense--the physical world could crumble and burn to ash and be swept aside by the relentless passing of time and still the connection I felt to the waterfall would remain.

The sun began its descent behind the cave; the light faded until the water turned grey and there wasn't much difference between having my eyes open or closed.

Despite the energy flowing into me from the waterfall, exhaustion took over and sleep carried me away.

***

When I awoke for the second time in my life, I felt stronger.

Part of me still couldn't believe it. I hadn't eaten or drank anything in, well, maybe never. I started out with the agility of a tree. How could I feel better than before?

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't healed. I wasn't about to jump up and do backflips. Yet, the difference was remarkable. I could raise my left arm and touch my face. There wasn't a part of my body that I couldn't at least flex. But what I was most grateful for, was being able to lift my head and sweep away the pebbles underneath. As I did so, damp, shoulder-length hair ran between my fingers.

Feeling my hair--learning something about my identity--sparked an idea.

The water helped my body heal. Maybe it could do the same thing for my mind. Maybe it could restore my memories. Why not? I didn't have anything to lose.

The sun was dead centre of the waterfall, with beautiful golden tones bleeding around it, making the water seem like liquid glass. I closed my eyes and focused like I did before, but this time on my mind, my inability to recall a single memory. I opened myself to the waterfall and its mysterious power.

A droplet landed on my forehead, and that was when everything fell apart.

My brain exploded with agony, as if my skull was caging a monster that was trying with all its might to break free.

My eyes snapped open and a searing, white-hot pain started on each iris, circling around the pupil and connecting with the other side.

Something was roaring in my ears, drowning out the waterfall.

I was screaming.

The pain consumed me.

***

It took a while before I could trust the water again.

When I regained consciousness, it was with an overwhelming sense of respect. I was messing with something I didn't understand, something real and more powerful than I anticipated.

For hours, I could only lay there, staring apologetically at the water and daring myself to re-establish my connection with it. What little strength I had accumulated began to fade, until I had to abandon caution if I wanted to survive.

And so, I refocused my thoughts on my physical being, opened myself to the waterfall, and continued my journey towards healing.

I set myself small tasks, like being able to bend my legs or fold my arms. Each time I reached a new milestone, I let myself fall asleep and recharge.

Five days. That's how long I'd say I spent in that cave. Sometimes I woke, caught a new cycle of the sun and watched it float its way up the waterfall. Other times I opened my eyes to the inky blackness of the night.

On the last day, I knew I was ready to stand. I already lifted myself into a sitting position and slept with my back against the cave. My body felt flexible. Strong.

I placed a hand on either side and pushed off against the wall. As I ascended, I walked backwards until my heels were parallel with my shoulders and my legs had taken on my body weight. And with that, I was on my feet.

I marched forward, reaching out and allowing my fingertips to enter the waterfall.

The feeling that washed over me was euphoric. It was like the water poured into my fingers, into my body, filling me with raw energy, sparking every nerve with power.

With hands cupped together, I brought water to my lips and drank. If I felt strong before, it was nothing compared to how I felt after the water splashed to the pit of my stomach. An explosion of energy rocked my body, turning into a scream of triumph which tore out of me on its own accord.

I stood awhile, gliding my fingers across the surface of the waterfall, surveying it with utmost gratitude.

"Thank you, friend."