Disclaimer: I don't own spirited away.
Unbeing dead isn't being alive.
Chihiro doesn't not remember her head surfacing in the churning waters, or how she came to be within their hold, but her feet have found purchase -she knows even with the heavy weight of her kimono that if she can keep her footing she can wade out of the coldness that chills her to the bone.
It is hard, pulling herself out onto the river cloth that encases her arms is ripped -torn. She does not look to inspect where else her silks have been rent apart -it is not important. And she lays there for a time; -heaves- great wracking sobs, that dispel the last of the water from her lungs.
It is only then that she makes to stand, to walk back to her village. And Chihiro pays no heed to her own trembling; focuses only on putting one foot in front of the other until she she is home.
She is not far from humanity, and she cannot seem rouse a response to their stares as she strolls through main street. She ignores the dripping of her robes -the small aquatic creatures that tumble from their folds as she passes familiar faces. Reaches for her door with a hand that is not her own. Tumbles inside and toward her stairs without bothering to latch anything behind her. It's not real anyway.
It feels as if she is in a dream that makes no since -everything moving around her with no real motivation. Hers is only to sleep -to make since of the images that flash behind her eyes with bitter, dangerous truths. Silky lies. Sharks.
Note: Oh my, it seems Chihiro has risen from the dead. Would you look at that. As always though; Reviews are a very nice thing to leave.