A Tale of Time: The Malice of Men

Chapter 12: The Past

The Past is gone. The Past is done.

The Past was boring. The Past was exciting.

The Past lies in our present. The Past shall be in our future.

The Past will come to haunt us like a dream of second nature.

It was a stormy night. Clouds battled in the air for supremacy, watering the ground beneath them in their blood. The winds howled, tearing out roofs in their agony. Wolves found it too cold to howl and babies shivered due to fear and cold in equal parts . Candles and lanterns had long been extinguished. Their vigil had been in vain as the storm had come with such rage and ferocity that all living things hid from its sight. The night would have been dark if not for the thunderous bolts that the clouds struck against each other, trading blow for blow in a battle so terrible and awesome that none could withstand its sight.

When this great battle raged on, there was a single, tiny splotch of red that had the audacity to witness. She was stumbling forward, struggling to hold on and keep her feet on land lest the sea consume her. Weakened by hunger and laboured to the brink of exhaustion, she had little in her to keep her going. The next strong gust of wind might be the end of her. Or maybe the one after that.

The Reaper was watching. He enjoyed a spectacular death, his mind bent hellishly so to sadistic thoughts. It was a battle over the victim. The little girl didn't have much time. CRASH! The waves broke against the shore, her eager, menacing fingers struggling to grasp her victim. SWOOSH! The wind swept her, trying to make her break. It won't be long now. The Reaper always knew.

Her teeth cluttered in a violent manner. It was a ruckus that would certainly have alerted anybody if not for the din that spanned two worlds. "This is the last step." She told herself. "The last step. Then no more." But the last step never seemed to come, much to the interest of the spectator lurking in the shadows.

It had been two days since her last meal and four days since her last proper meal. She sold everything she could afford to lose, even her own shoes, to pay for bread. All that she was left with now were the clothes she wore and the cloak about her. It was cold and the cloak did little to keep her from being sopping wet. Her thin, weak legs weren't helping, ready to give up at the drop of a hat. But she had to run away. Her parents forbade her. No, they hated her. She was a disgrace. So be it. 'You are to never go about with others like that, Armanda.' Her father's words still stung. 'If I find that you have been running off into the wild again, you shall find no solace here'. She was only trying to help Edmund get his pet squirrel! It was not her fault that it had to take refuge behind a wild boar. It made no matter now. Edmund was killed by the boar and it made no good to pretend that her parents were more alive. They wouldn't have her. They didn't understand! She wanted to help out. She wanted to be strong. She hated all the things that girls of her age were meant to do. She was not made for dressing up and pretty talk.

"One more step. Just one more" she told herself as she bore the consequences of her decisions. Another gust of wind swept across the deserted landscape, causing Armanda to sway wildly to her side. Then, she resumed. SPLISH! SPLOSH! The sound of her bare feet in the rain were audible to the reaper, who noticed how each sound was fainter than its predecessor. Soon. Till then, he would have his fun. She had to break. She had to give way. Soon.

Her vision began to dim. The weight of water rained down upon her. She was barely able to stand up. The rain was relentless. She began to feel a dull, final warmth creeping up her body. Her feet ceased to shudder, her teeth no longer clattered. "Just one more step." SPLISH! The other leg never came. Her breath was shallow and weak. Her will broken. She fell with a big SPLASH!