It had been years, decades, since her feet had touched this particular path. It trickled its winding way in smooth white stones out of the nothingness that was the backs of her eyelids. A toe brushed against the first pebble. Her second footfall landed on the path itself, and the familiar trees sprung from the darkness to line the path.
Were she to look back, she would see only a sudden end to the stones, and forest beyond. It was as it had always been.
This was her Secret Place. When she was young and the world became too much, she would retreat to her room and to her imagined garden. Now that she was older and the world had become too much once more, she sought its comfort once more.
Karissa took another step forward, concentrating on the feel of the stones beneath her feet, small enough to curl around and between her toes as she moved. There were no sharp edges here. She continued her procession in this slow and ponderous manner, stretching her toes out before her to plant in the pebbles first, dropping her heel and taking the next step, toes extended.
She knew there were two bends in the path before she would see her garden. Her heart felt light as she reached the first of these two, though her shoulders felt weighed down by her nightie and dressing gown. With each step, the weight grew until it became a physical pain and her next step faltered. She shrugged out of her dressing gown. The nightie followed, and she stepped away from the blue-and-cream pile of clothing. But still something didn't feel right. Her steps weren't effortless.
She doubled back to the pile of clothing and shimmied out of her underwear, leaving them crumpled at the top of the heap, and stepped forward once more.
This time her body flowed smoothly, and she luxuriated in her nakedness. It hadn't been so when she was younger - she would run around in her shorts and t-shirt, climb up the side of the waterfall and sunbathe on the large flat rock by the pool. Age had changed her. Maybe it had changed her garden, too.
As she rounded the second corner she bit back a gasp. It was as she remembered. The path curved and grew into a much larger walkway about a rock- and fern-lined pool, into which a waterfall fell. Behind there, she knew, was a large and shallow cave. The waterfall was fed by a series of pools, kept warm by the sun on the black rock, and easily accessed by a staircase carved into the side of the cliff.
All around sprung flowers unlike any she had ever seen in reality. Plump and purple water-lilies graced the pool. The rock upon which she used to sunbathe, hanging over the pool so she might dip her fingers in it, was surrounded by little red-and-white buds on a dark creeping vine. Pine-line forest gave way to exotic palms and ferns, which in turn yielded to bright floral displays in pinks and oranges and reds that could never exist in the real world.
A tear spring to her eye before she knew it, she was running to the pool and diving in.
The water was as clear and warm as it had been so many years ago, and Karissa breathed a sigh of relief.
She swam to the edge of her pool and pulled herself onto her sunning rock. She kicked her feet in the water and leaned back on her hands, tipping her head to gain the most of the sun's warmth across her body.
She would never have gone nude outside, and so the feeling of warmth on her breasts was a novel - and incredibly pleasant - experience. Here she did not need the rigid prudishness that constrained the rest of her life. In order to not be seen as a sexual object at work, she removed all sexuality about herself. She was masculine enough to dissuade those interested in femininity, and politely uninterested enough to discourage those who might still be attentive.
But here, here she did not have to stiffen her walk to reduce her hip swing, or bend so as not to jut out her bottom. Here she could flaunt herself to the wind and the sun and no one would know.
With a move that would have made her blush in normal circumstances, Karissa rose to her feet and dropped back onto the stone walkway. She was keen to explore her waterfall, as the rocks would be warmer up there, and the water would be, too. It was the work of a few minutes to climb the staircase, and from her vantage point atop the (admittedly rather small) cliff, she could see her garden spread out before her. There, to the right and well past the pool, was a small gap in the trees she knew led to a grassy circle with a few toadstools dotted about the clearing. The pine-like trees that protected her garden were taller still, their narrow tops reaching a few more metres above her head.
The ponds that fed the waterfall were bliss. The stream fed out of the surrounding forest several metres away and into the first pool, which was deep enough to sit in comfortably. The next pool was shallow enough that you could lie back in it and the water would lap past the corners of your eyes. The next was a bit deeper again, and the third and final was curved rather like a large martini glass: deep at the middle, shallower at the edges. It was this pool that she immersed herself in, bottom sliding against the delicately ridged rock of the sides as she shimmied her way into deeper water.
She had forgotten the soothing feeling of the current as it tugged at her limbs and hair. It was oh so gentle, despite the lip the water fell off. It was not, after all, a particularly powerful waterfall. There was just enough water going over the edge to hide the cave behind and create an impressive display, but certainly not enough to be dangerous.
Her imagination would never permit that.
Karissa wriggled her way back into the shallower waters, lying back so that her shoulders were clear of the pool and the water would just skim the undersides of her breasts. She kicked her legs towards the surface, poking her feet out and into the fresh air as she did so.
