𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈: Waking up to Ash and Dust

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WAKING UP TO ASH AND DUST

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ONCE UPON A TIME, in a spaceship far, far away. . . there lived a girl who, more often than not, feels like a universe of exploding stars.

Once upon a time, in a spaceship far, far away. . . there lived a girl, who. . . who. . .

Once upon a time, in a spaceship far, far away. . . there lived. . .

Thoughts slide away as Lyra crawls from the darkest corner of the universe and into consciousness. For the first few moments, she can't remember much. Actually, she can't remember anything at all.

Her head is throbbing. Fire erupts beneath her temple as she moves herself ever so slightly and she winces in pain, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she can. She tries to breathe in through her nose only to find it entirely impossible. Something is blocking her nose. It aches fiercely and she slumps backwards, trying desperately to collect her thoughts. She can practically taste ruby rust on her mouth and yet when her tongue swipes her lips, they're almost painfully smooth, as if they've been sanded over.

Birds chirp dully. When she starts to wriggle her aching limbs, she registers the fact that she's on something strange. Not stiff like the cots in camp. Strangely soft, like what she imagines laying on a cloud is like.

Her eyes snap open with a start.

     The sunlight is blinding.

      Blazing white seers straight through her retinas. She blinks once. Twice. Boiling supernovae stab at her vision, daggers seeking out her sight everywhere she looks. The stars burn her eyes; she blinks a third time to melt back into the molten shadows simmering between galaxies.

     Memories slam into her all at once, so quick that they nearly take her breath. The fight. The war. Dying children surrounding her. She can still taste the ash of the hellfire on her lips, feel her hands slippery with the blood of friends, hear the screams of the dying. A kaleidoscope of violent colors dragging her into a treacherous vortex. Sounds bleeding together. Explosions. Gunfire. Screams. Oh, the screams. She wonders how many of the one-hundred had died. How many of the Grounders had died. Because they'd won, hadn't they?

IN MY HEAD¹ ━━  Bellamy BlakeWhere stories live. Discover now