Layers upon more layers dry
Claustrophobia sets in slowly
She's encased
There's no room for movement
She feels her core harden
She's struggling to breath
She can't see
She's been blind for a while
She instinctively slows her breathing
This has happened before
She knows moving now would wound her so she waits
She keeps her breath slow
And she imagines herself dancing in the wind
Feeling the freedom in the space around her
The smell of pine and sage reach her on the currents of the sky
In the midst of her dancing she sees a woman in silver and white in a grove below
She lands next to her
She knows her soul
The woman in white places her finger tips on the wind dancers chest
Something within the dancer twitches violently
The woman in white pulls her hand back and ash and tar pull from every orifice and pore of the dancer
The dancer purges, struggling to breath
She twitches again painfully and cries out
The woman in white put her hand on the dancers shoulder reassuringly
The dancer barely standing asks "why?"
The woman in white smiles, "it's time to rise"
An electric shock shot through the dancer's core
Somewhere in the waking realm a loud tearing deafens the dancer into awareness. She can feel her elbow is free and there is a slight draft
This is the moment she's been waiting for
She struggles against the chysalis and screams thrashing pulling pushing until she is standing in the morning dew, it's cold, bright, she is naked, and sore.
But, she is free.
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