Jennifer Louise Barnard
An African journey
Another beautiful African sunrise. The sun is a bright orange as it lifts up off the horizon. I sit on a small hill as I look over the empty flood planes. You can smell the freshness of a new day in the air. The bush is dry, but rain is almost here. Every day the heat brings with it more clouds. And soon they will be too heavy for the wind to blow away.
The light of another day
The light came in through the window. Shining bright. A lot brighter than my mood. My mind is alert but my body is slow to respond. Not wanting to wake up, not wanting to start the day, I lie dead still, with my eyes still closed, trying to push the day away. Like a movie, I play the last year of my life through my head.
Ice cold. My veins are ice cold. The coldness moves from my right forearm up to my shoulder, into my chest and spreads through out. Why is it so cold? I try to look, but I cannot open my eyes. I cannot move. Why can’t I move? I try to assess my surroundings as much as possible, to help me to calm down. I am lying on something hard. The ground? A table? Is it cold as well or is it because of my cold veins? The coldness has almost reached my toes. I breathe in deep, hoping to put some heat into my body. How did I get here? I don’t know. I can’t remember anything. There is nothing before this moment. Okay, don’t panic. Let’s start with something small. My name. What is my name?