When destiny comes knocking, will you rise to its siren call? If FATE was carved in stone, do you have a choice to change the course of your life?
"One hundred thousand lifetimes,
Twenty-five to a fragment,
Four chances to a rotation complete,
And b...
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The pinkish hue of the sky darkens as myriads of purples and blues bleed in, oranges creeping into black, twisting twilight into dusk. The silver bright moon, having been summoned, floats in the watercolour of garments that have shrouded the clouds, charioting her in the accompaniment of her starry hosts as they slowly glide their way around their orbits before returning to their dwelling place.
As she stands at the edge of the forest, fear snakes its way through her ribs, gripping her heart. She is on the verge of a breakdown. Tears, hot and fat, thick with salt, run down her cheeks, dripping down her chin. She can hear her pulse drumming against her ears, her temples throbbing with blood rush. She feels her heart giving way, tattered as it is. Hope, no more a ray, but embers glowing dim, fragile yet sharp like glass shards. The thread is taut, tangible, ready to snap. She is soaked in sweat, her fear so palpable. Her garment, the only one allowed her, has become transparent.
As the night wind blows, she hears the rumbling of thunder in the distance. Looking yonder in disbelieve, she sees storm clouds gathering in a hurry as the wind picks up speed. Lightning racing across the cavernous sky, lighting it up in bursts and spurts, then tearing through and splitting it. She shivers. Gives a self-depreciating smile. 'What could go wrong has already gone wrong. What else is there to possibly go wrong?' She shakes her head. She needs to think, fast. What she needs is a plan - a step-by-step action plan. She can't do anything with the rains coming and she is losing light fast. She wouldn't be able to rely on the light of the moon with the storm clouds about to smother her.
So, she has to find shelter - above ground for obvious safety and under a canopy preferably, of a shorter tree for high survival chances instead of being fried by lightning. The light was fading fast. She didn't want to remain at the edge as she was exposed to the elements. 'Seek permission at each step' she tells herself. 'Every step...seek permission; or stay until given.' Then, seeking permission and apologising in advance to the forest spirit, she inhales deeply the electric air and exhaling on a 'whoosh!...,'she starts walking into the forest, careful of her steps yet observant of the tree she wants to climb. Having picked one, and having been granted access for the night, she whispers her "thank you" before she nimbly climbs, pulling herself up branch by branch, until she is a good way up, perfectly shielded by the large umbrella like leaves at every level from the highest tree down. The branches cradle her lithe body and she is able to find a comfortable spot to secure herself a night's sleep. She grabs a couple of leaves from the branch below and uses it as a makeshift blanket, wrapping it around her body and head. It was going to be one of the hardest nights she's ever had to face.
In the dense darkness of the forest, her imagination thrives, the placement of fear blooming in her mind's eye, she feels the penetrative gaze of invisible eyes upon her person. The wailing of the wind screeches past her ears and the trees seem to whisper and sneer, jeeringly judging her.
Eerie silence, haunting resonance surround her, pressing in. She hears the scritch-scratches on the barks below, the scurrying of feet on the forest floor, the crunch of dead leaves and the swish-swishing of leafy branches. A hoot of an owl here, the howling of a lone wolf there. She imagines it can't get any worse than this, before the sky brilliantly illuminates with streams of white-fire and the sound of roaring thunder causes her heart to skip a few beats. Then, the heavens tear open and rains down rivers from their storehouses. Miserable is not what she would use for herself - it feels too mild a word. But, she is strong, and she knows her purpose and will keep to it. She just needs to outlast this weather and make it through to the morn. It is there that her destiny awaits. She is just thankful that she is going through a storm - which means that she will come out the other end of it. Thank the Mother she is not stuck in this storm forever. One night. Just one night. Through her spike of fear, adrenaline, worries and determination, she falls into a fitful sleep.
