She Floats

She floated on the wooden boat. Rags torn from garments plugged the holes that threatened to take her under. The sky was peach, and the mist made it look fuzzy. But it was not sweet and juicy. On an island in the near distance, was the barn. It sat on its own little island, ostentatiously, lording over the rocks and the murky waters. It could have been a castle had it been made of stone. Instead, the wooden boards pulled down on themselves, as if trying to wrestle the support beams to the ground. The pride of the whitewashed edifice was what stood out as regal. It wouldn’t let itself fall. It would stand for a thousand more years.

All was silent except the sound of moving water. There was a rhythmic slosh, and she focused on that with her ears, while never taking her eyes from the barn. There was no current and the oars felt like bars of lead. Wet hair plastered her face, but she could pay it no mind. It was so close now.

There used to be farmland surrounding the barn. Now there was only water. Water that settled into the ground deeper in some places than others. Everything was wet, and she wanted to be in the barn. A bird landed its tiny talons on the edge of the boat. She couldn’t move her eyes to look at it; she must stay focused. Its guttural screeches pierced the air with sudden voltage. She could feel it in her heart, an electric charge that made the oars feel lighter in her hands. When it flew away, the lap of the water against the side of gloomy craft resumed. It echoed in her ears, faster than before.

The jagged rocks loomed before her like teeth, an open mouth ready to swallow her. She was a meal. A sacrifice. An appeasement to this monster of water. The boat scratched against stone, dislodging the makeshift plugs. A fountain sprung by her bare feet, quickly enveloping her ankles in an icy pool. It was time to abandon the oars and challenge the rocks. They were slippery, and the sinking vessel refused to be steady footing, moving out from under her with a taunt. Water was everywhere. But the barn was near.

One at a time, she carefully scaled over each rock that was large enough to peek out above the stillness. The bank was muddy. It menaced her, trying to suck in her hands and feet so that she could not move. The sound of suction was louder than it should have been as she pulled herself free, one extremity at a time. Nothing wanted her to get to the barn. The mire wanted her to stay in its filth, the water wanted to drown her, and the rocks wanted to make her bleed. But she persevered. Seconds moved as slowly as an hour, a constant drip that blurred her vision. The tall grass held out its hand, offering a heave to safety. Once out of the pit of the bank, her energy was spent. She lay, face in the grass, breathing heavily. Her eyes cut upwards, gazing at the barn. She could smell the comforts of home, the security of the shelter. Almost there. She would crawl if she had to. Nothing would stop her now.

Feeling the need to rise to her feet, she moved from her knees, palms pressing against the damp earth. The waters were behind her, and a second wind fell as a cloak around her shoulders. One step at a time, she approached the barn. The door was shining, the sun now reflecting off what was left of the chipping white paint. It looked warm. It beckoned her to come and rest. She looked down at herself, realizing most of her body was covered in mud. Would it matter? She was so weary.

With hesitant fingertips, she nudged the ominous door. To her surprise, the mud did not transfer, and the door stayed clean. A light spilled out that obscured the rest of the world, and she was overwhelmed with relief. Her journey was almost over. She could rest. The fragrant aroma of hay bales met her in the doorway, inviting her to drop her tentativeness. This was a place where she belonged. A smile began to creep across her countenance, a feeling of joy emanating from her achy bones. She was proud of herself. It hadn’t been an easy journey.

The bed of hay rustled beneath her as she settled in. She felt clean again. It felt natural and wholesome and pure. When she breathed deeply, she inhaled sweetness and calm. The entirety of her body began to relax, one muscle at a time. There was a peace in this barn that she could not describe. All of the hardships seemed miniscule in this moment. A soft sleep began to overtake her, and she did not fight it. It was welcome. And perhaps, when she woke, she would be in a different place.