The sun was shining brightly and steadily on me, beads of sweat rolled down the back of my neck. I opened my eyes. I looked around and found that I was neither in my comfy home nor in the city where I lived. Instead, I was in a savannah filled with bushes, azaleas and tall grass. The sky was light blue and cloudless.

The plants were so tall that they blocked my view. All I could see was a huge Weeping Willow in front of me whose arms undulated pleasantly in the breeze. All my life, it seemed to me, I had never been one of those scarecrows who remain still when facing a changing environment. I was the one who loved to explore, hunt and pull up the curtains. Mysterious it might appear, I plucked up the courage to go forward. Pushing the flowers away, I briskly walked towards it. For a few seconds I was too stunned even as my heart skipped a beat. The shiver of excitement came from the giant lake beside the tree. The water was pastel blue, soft as silk. Coral Daisy, orange English wallflower, dodger-blue cornflower, snow-white Baby’s breath, the giant tree, the bright lake and a crystal-clear sky.

I sat beside the lake. Amber daffodils grew abundantly along it, which reminded me of Narcissus. He possessed me. I took a cursory glance at the mirror-like lake, which reflected a girl with brunette ringlets and brown eyes. Her dark eyes looked deep into my own and banished me from the fantasy world and reminded me of the world I belonged to. Petals of violet were lurking near the surface. I barely touched the water and a petite, unformed hand pulled me into the lake. I was drowning. A familiar face flashed in front of my eyes and everything turned black.

I awoke to find myself once again standing beside the lake. The curtain of night had fallen. The wind was gusting and howling violently. The Weeping Willow was still there and courageously standing up to the fierce wind though its branches all stretched themselves in one way. The icy air made me shiver. Leaving here was my first instinct but I dared not touch that fluid again.

I knelt down to the ground. I was tired, exhausted and desperate. I was in a dungeon, labyrinth, purgatory. A sense of helplessness took hold of me. The wind ceased.

“What makes you so sad?”
My heart was thumping very hard that I doubted whether I would be able to speak.
“Are you Death?
“What do you want? I have nothing.”
It did not reply. I gave in.
“You know? My screwed up life has just taken a turn for the better. My mother finally believes that father will never come back and that their marriage had reached a cul-de-sac. Do you know how many years I had to persuade her to accept that fact? THREE years. Can you imagine how miserable my life was during those three years? Every single day, every single day, I had to bear the sudden wailing of my mother, the foolish blame, the cracking of china. The most torturous part was when she turned silent. That ghostly innocent look …”
“What do you think about their divorce?”
“Happy. I am very happy. Their divorce has freed me, unchained me, kicked me from that hell. I could have had a bright future, but now”
“You hate them?”
“Yes.”
The seconds were ticking by.
“Please. Free me.”
Silence was the answer.

Morning came. Willow herb straggled over the patch. I had walked several kilometers until I could not see any shadow of the lake. I caught a glimpse of some purple spots in the greenness. I immediately rode up and found a sea of violet. The first buds of the indigo violet did not give me the glorious feeling that I owned in that heaven-like world but it brought me calm. My anxiety had died down. An ash-brown haired creature, about five foot seven, was heading towards me. Its curly hair was flipping in the air and its eyes were shining with a glimmer of light accenting the wrinkles around its eyes. As the figure approached, I surprisingly found that it was a human being, a man. He gave me a wide warm smile that melted my heart. I was not alone! He waved at me.
“Hi, Vi! I am Indigo,” he commenced.
A curious emotion sprouted in my heart. He kissed my forehead and handed me a bunch of fresh violet buds. We lay down on the comfy flowerbed and he started telling me tales. I laughed at times because of his ridiculous imitation of characters. He was humorous, witty and romantic. Every morning he greeted me with “Good morning gorgeous” and a glamorous smile. Day in, day out, we ran across the grass, climbed to the top of the Weeping Willow to view the gradual change of dawn and dusk. It was the best of times. I could never take my eyes off of him. My afterlife had ceased to be miserable. I had no longer any impulse to blame. Death and that unknown room ceased to scare me. He filled the emptiness in my heart.

At the twilight of a very ordinary day, we were sitting under the Weeping Willow, giggling at one of his jokes. Looking at the setting sun, a tiny hollow circle dangled from a light string. The circle was plaited with two different colors of grass. On the edge of the circle, there lay a violet blossom. The heart-shaped purple flower illuminated the natural beauty of the grass.
“But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and you are the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid are far more fair than she,” he soliloquized.
He paused.
“I love you,” he added.
He gazed at me and something in the tone of his voice asked me to carry on his lines. I could not; I really could not make any vow. I was speechless. A twinge of fear vibrated through me. A beautiful sunset, an evergreen tree, a magnificent ring, a beautiful extraction of a poet. This was what I had desired for ages. But why did I stay motionless when it actually happened? Maybe it was just because I was not ready.
I tried to squeeze a smile and set my features into the expression of being touched. He put the ring on my finger.
“With God or not, we are bound together,”
“I will use my last breath to protect you,”
I stared at the bluish purple thing and the finger beside it until the last ray of sunlight faded.

I had no intention to sleep. That scene I just could not get out of my head. If I loved him, why did I hesitate? He, undoubtedly, was my Mr. Darcy. I loved him and he loved me. So what had happened to me? Not ready to take the chance? That was nonsense. So he should organize a rehearsal or tell me the plan? That was rubbish!

In the darkness, looking at the withered flower, I started to understand a cruel truth: He was good enough. The problem was me. I could not trust him. No matter how honest and sincere he was, my so-called conscience kept telling me the opposite. Nothing could last forever. The world was changing. Everything including promises, vows with god or not would fade into mist. No one should be trusted.

My feet had brought me back to the lake of my own accord. The water reflected my face. I hated myself for being so heartless. I wanted to leave!
The voice rang in again.
“No one has ever succeeded in locking you in. You have always been free.”
It was Death again, NO!
I was the one who created this buzz! For Heaven’s sake, I had used one-third of my life hiding my emotion in order to gain my so-called freedom. But the joke was all on me. Why didn’t I shout at my father that I hated him for cheating with all the others instead of asking for a divorce? A divorce is the same as a marriage. Paperwork and claims!
A gush of relief and excitement flowed into my heart and my body. I was released, reborn and free!
I laid my shaky hands onto the placid water.
“Come and join us, Violet!”
“I am sorry for what I have done to you and your mother,”
“Sweetie. Turn around, my dearest girl,”
Petals of resurrected violet sprung up from the lake and flew onto me. I regained consciousness and then my courage seemed to suddenly stiffen of its own accord. I touched the water.