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Red Dress

Fiction

The Girl with the Red Dress

The water pushed me down further as I was trying so helplessly to fight it. I kicked. Over and over again, waiting for the single wave of oxygen to engulf my pressured lungs. I could no longer hold my breath in the hopes that I could somehow be saved. I subconsciously opened my mouth, begging for air. But instead, the strong flow of the water surrounding me found its way into my insignificant frame, accelerating the beats that were pounding so aggressively within my chest.

I thrashed my weak limbs wildly again, attempting to rescue myself from a tragic end. But this one-sided battle felt like I was clawing at walls that did not exist.

Now, I could no longer separate the saltiness of my own tears and the bitterness of the water enveloping me.

My muscles could no longer resist the overwhelming mightiness of the water. My lungs now replaced the freshness of the oxygen that I was so used to with the unfriendly iciness of the moisture. Yet, my blurry vision did not stop me from recognizing the scarlet hue of what I had been wearing.

The depths of the water interrupted my last attempt at opening my eyes and the rush of adrenaline in my body was soon replaced with a relaxation that I had forgotten. I no longer had control over my muscles or my limbs so I no longer resisted the pressure that pushed me down further. The tranquility of the ambiance substituted my fear of the utter darkness I was fading into.

So I let myself fall.

Into the depths of the unknown and sink into the mysteries of the power beyond me.

And then I realized that my red dress no longer mattered.

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Just an 18 year old girl from Kuwait with a lot on her mind.

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