We were once part of the Earth

The doorknob twisted and a light twinkling of metal came from outside. With murderous intent, Harry flung open the door, clinging onto the arch in need for support. Like a cunning serpent, he entered the garden of artworks. Grabbing his phone torch; he lit his way through the gallery.

The air was dry, and his sinuses gnawed at him. He sneezed so hard he stumbled into something near the wall. It was wet paint. The gallery was still in the making, the interior design was incomplete, but there were a few noticeable artworks that he could make out. Harry needed to scan the wall and find a light source. Stumbling through the dark Harry trampled on a name tag. He was standing in front of a marine-inspired exhibit.

He did not understand art. It looked like blue wool strung down from the ceiling. "An interactive artwork", Harry murmured. Dona told him about these kinds of artworks; ones where the viewer can be truly immersed in the artists' representations. This piece filled the main atrium of the gallery. As Harry walked further into it, he noticed more details. It was a knitted blue net scented with aromatic spices. He didn't have to be an art expert to understand the purpose of the artwork. The aim was to provide an underwater atmosphere, achieved through the different scents and overwhelming blue.

It was the perfect place to contemplate. Between the little gaps of the nets, Harry could see Dona. She was braiding her hair, while Harry laid on the bed watching. She was so picturesque and grand, hiding her smile. He shook his head and knocked himself out of his daze. With only a few steps, Dona popped up at another hole. This time she was in her studio, creating a clay piece in the middle of the room. Looking up from her work she smiled at Harry. He could only describe her smile as painful. As she was not the one in pain, he was. Despite the pain, he could hear music. A harmony that only she produced. 

He closed to his eyes to grab onto the sound. In an echo as distant as a past lover, he heard her laughter. His heart suddenly got lost in the wind and carried by a dove that turned into a crow. He was alone now, in the darkness that befriended him. He opened his eyes, feeling faint he grabbed onto the net. Frustration brewing inside of his chest made his mind clustered. He tried to exit the exhibition but got tangled in the net.

He stopped his quarrelling and caught his breath. He expected a peaceful exhale but soon panicked at his inability to breathe. Part of the exhibit was around his neck. Without him moving, the rope was twisting and pulling from behind him. His eyes bulged, and he kept his hands near his throat. From the corner of his eye, he saw it. He tried to kick his way free and twist his body, but the entity did not relent to his efforts. His throat was burning, and his fingers charred against the material. He forced his eyes open although he was shifting in and out of consciousness. He felt Dona's presence and smiled. He thought that if he died; he might see her again. He forced a smile as he grew weaker and gagged breaths. The entity dragged him into a darkness he'd never seen before. His nose was running, and his throat dried his screams. Before he slipt into oblivion, a sound emitting from memory woke him. Dona's voice.

"Harry..."

A whisper in the reeds, so close he imagined her in the same vicinity. He knew it was improbable; she was a figment of his imagination.

"Harry..."

There it was again, jubilation he didn't deserve. He wanted it to stop; the entity was taking too long. The moment crystallized, and he thought that this might be the consequence of his sin. Dona's voice may either be his redemption or his execution. Before he raised the white flag, the lights turned on. As they did, the entity ceased any further punishment.

He heaved a breath-holding the wound of his neck, it was merely a scratch, but the sensation will forever taunt him. Kneeling on the floor, Harry started to weep. Before he dove into the depth of his sadness, he realised that his torment had only begun.

"Harry..."

He screamed out in frustration."Leave me alone!"

He knelt his head onto the cold concrete. "Please."

The voice stopped, and he flustered and sniffled to sit up. He kept mumbling to himself, saying please over and over again. When he stopped his whimpering, the ominous whispering stopped too. Replaced by the alarming voice was another, more lively but thin.

"Come Take my hand..."

He stood and followed the sound.

"Wipe your tears..."

The voice was serene. It left a minty taste in his mouth, and he felt refreshed. He desired the sensation that it brought.

"Drops of blood..."

It was a small distraction from what was to come.

"Will lead you here..."

He froze. A wave of distress, far greater than physical pain kicked him off his feet. It took him a second to comprehend and another to respond. His response was quick, an agonizing scream finally, left him. A dread, more unnerving than death itself, was born. He wanted to tear at his eyes, contort his body in a way that made him feel nothing. At that moment, he had nothing.

He was now, truly alone.