The cricket’s noise crept into her sleep.
And followed her into her dream.
She wandered a winding path, through an ancient wood, led by the small cricket.
It took her from the path, to a clearing of trees.
And in the clearing, there was a stream.
Cold, crystal, clear water ran from it, shimmering and shining over the stones in its bed.
But then the sky began to grey.
She peered up.
The sun had gone, hidden behind trees and clouds.
The cricket’s chirping grew louder at this sudden onset of darkness.
She looked down at him as he hopped further along the stream.
He took a leap across the water.
Holding her breath, she worried he’d drown.
But he landed on a stone in the middle of the swirling water.
As she gazed at him the clear water turned murky.
It grew darker.
Just like the sky had.
And it grew thicker, too. Like blood.
The cricket stopped chirping.
It edged forward, bent over the stream, and took a sip.
She bent down too, closer to him, but as she did, the mossy rocks she leaned on gave way.
She splashed down into the water, gasping for air.
But only the metallic taste of blood filled her lungs.
And as she sank, the sound of crickets followed her.
She tumbled in the darkness.
Endless backward and forward somersaults.
The kind she did as a kid in the pool in the backyard.
The thought brought a smile to her lips.
And when her cheeks reached her ears, she realized the chirping had softened.
It wasn’t as thunderous anymore.
It was a soft lull.
She opened her eyes next.
She could see again.
The liquid blood all around her was less ruby.
It was a crystal pink, and not as thick now.
Her somersaulting feet touched something.
The ground.
She stood up in the ankle deep water, ready to wring her nightgown dry.
But it wasn’t wet, or red.
It was the same as when she slipped it on that night.
She took a step toward the embankment, and then another, until she was back at the shore.
She didn’t see the cricket anymore.
She spun around in all directions.
Silence. And clear skies beyond the tree’s canopy of leaves.
“What now?” she said aloud.
The silence was deafening.
So deafening it became a roar.
A roar that sounded like crickets.
The sky overhead clapped with lightning, its thunder reverberating in the air.
Reverberating through her.
Droplets began to fall.
Ruby red droplets.
She held her hands out, palms up to the sky.
The ruby red droplets began to form pools of blood in her hands.
She blinked the red raindrops out of her eyes.
And saw beady black ones blinking back up at her.
Two little crickets, one in each hand, were poking their heads out of the blood pools in her hands.
They chirped at her, softly. Not the loud roar of the forest crickets.
She placed them on each of her shoulders.
Don’t worry she whispered to them. I got you.
She awoke startled.
The cricket’s chirping had become a roar.
She pulled the bedsheet over her, trying to drown out their noise.