the ground beneath me

The school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, but I never went straight home. I always went to the park behind the school, a small place not many people knew about, with an abandoned house at the far end. Alex was the one who showed me that place. He said no one would find us there. No teachers, no parents, no one asking questions. Just us, and the quiet. I didn’t ask why he liked it so much. I just liked that he brought me there. We used to sit on the grass, doing homework we barely focused on, or just talking about nothing. Sometimes we didn’t talk at all. And somehow, that felt enough. But that day, Alex didn’t come to school. And for the first time, I went there alone.

At first, everything felt normal. The same grass, the same silence, the same old house standing at the edge like it had always been there. Until I sat down. Something felt wrong. Not a sound. No, more like a memory. Something that wasn’t mine, pressing from beneath my feet. It felt heavy, unfamiliar, like it had been buried for too long. Like someone was trying to remember something through me. I frowned and shifted slightly, pressing my hand against the ground as if I could feel it better that way. The grass was damp, the soil soft. But the feeling didn’t go away.

I stood up quickly, my heart beating faster than it should have. I looked around, half-expecting someone to be there, watching me. No one. Just the wind. But even as I walked away, the feeling stayed. Like it was still there. Like it was still… following me. I tried to ignore it. I told myself I was just tired. Or maybe getting sick. I hurried home, but the thought didn’t leave me. It stayed somewhere in the back of my mind, quiet, waiting.

The next day, I went back like always. But Alex wasn’t there. Not in the park. Not in school. Nowhere. I kept waiting every day. Didn’t he always come, even if he was late? I sat in the same spot, watching the empty path, expecting to see him appear at any moment, like he always did. Laughing. Acting like nothing mattered. But he didn’t come. And somehow, that didn’t feel right.

Time passed, though it didn’t feel like it was moving forward. My head started to ache, a dull pressure that wouldn’t go away. Every time I sat on the same patch of grass, the familiar smell of earth and the soft sound of the stream nearby started to feel strange. Too quiet. Too still. Everything I knew about that place felt slightly… off. Like it was waiting for something. Or someone. As if the ground itself was holding onto something it couldn’t let go of. And somehow, it was pulling me into it.

The next day, I got sick. I stayed home and slept until the afternoon. My body felt heavy, my head burning, but even then, I couldn’t stop thinking about the park. About Alex. About that feeling. When I woke up, the sun was already low. The world felt quieter than usual. Still. And I knew I had to go back.

I didn’t think about it too much. I just went. Even though my body still felt weak, I made my way to the park and sat on the grass again, right where I always did. I told myself Alex would come. He had to.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep. When I opened my eyes, the sky had dimmed, but it wasn’t fully dark yet. The wind had picked up, strong enough to rustle the trees and push against my skin. It felt like rain was coming. I stood up and walked toward the abandoned house, thinking I could wait there, but the door was locked. I stared at it for a moment, then let out a small breath. Right. Alex had made a copy of the key. He said it made things easier. He always carried it with him. I didn’t.

I sat down on the porch instead. The wind grew stronger. And then that feeling came back. But this time, it wasn’t faint. It pressed against me, heavier than before. Not just from below, but around me. Like something was there, close enough to touch. It felt familiar. Like the first day we came here, when it rained and we ran inside together, laughing, trying to stay dry. But this time, there was no laughter. Just the wind. Cold. Heavy. And something else. Something fragile. Like it was leaning against me. Like it needed something.

The feeling made my chest tighten. Everything around me, the grass, the house, the air, it all felt too familiar. Like it was trying to tell me something. Like it was asking me to remember. My head started to hurt more, a sharp constant pressure. I pressed my fingers against my temples, trying to make it stop. I knew something was missing. Something important. I just didn’t know what.

The wind grew stronger, almost unbearable now. It felt like it had weight, pressing down on me, forcing me to stay where I was. And then I heard it. A whisper. Faint. Almost gone. “If I leave… will you stay here?” I froze. My chest ached. That voice felt familiar. Too familiar. The pain that followed wasn’t like the fever. It was deeper. Sharper. My ears rang. My body felt weak. My vision blurred at the edges. And then everything went dark.

When I opened my eyes again, the rain had stopped. The air was cold, and I was still there, on the porch. I didn’t leave. I couldn’t. I stayed. Time stopped making sense. I wasn’t sure how long I had been there anymore. A day. Two. More. The sun rose and fell, but it all felt the same. I didn’t feel hungry. I didn’t feel tired. Nothing felt real except the wind. And the voice.

Every time it came back, it brought the same fragments. The house. The first day we came here. The quiet. And that sentence. “If I leave… will you stay here?” I wanted to answer. I tried. But nothing ever came out.

Then one day, the rain came harder than before. I didn’t move. Water soaked through my clothes, my skin, everything. I just sat there, waiting, desperate. And then through the storm, I heard it again. But this time, it was different. Clear. Close. “Leave.” The word cut through everything. Cold. Sharp. Final. I stopped breathing for a moment. For the first time, I didn’t feel the weight. I didn’t feel the pain. I felt something else. Like something had been holding me all this time… and finally let go.

The wind faded slowly until there was nothing left. No voice. No memory. No weight. Just silence.

When I opened my eyes again, the light was too bright. The smell was unfamiliar. Not earth. Not rain. Antiseptic. Voices. Footsteps. People in uniforms.

“Mrs, please come back.” I wanted to deny it. But this time… the ground beneath me was silent.