The Endarkening of Maia Minha

End Of The Begining

She screamed. And she screamed. And she screamed. A wail of anguish clawing its way up and out of her throat. She wanted to shut her eyes. To Turn. To run. But she was glued in place. Watching. In the sickest, most sadistic way possible . . . waiting . . . for the blade to strike down and decapitate her savior. There was nothing for her to do. Except scream. So that is exactly what she did.

She screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

Until her voice shone light around all the dark corners of the tall, harrowing trees whose branches reached out to claw at the night sky. Until the shadows faltered, some even turned their horrid eyes to look her way. Until all white noise faded out and there was just her standing there.

Alone. Defenseless.

The shadows, the good ones not the bad- though it was getting harder and harder to discern the defenders from the aggressors- were beaten. Nothing could save her. Save them, whoever they were.

Her presence did nothing.

In the dim light, she even saw one of the dark figures twist their mouth into a menacing grin.

They were enjoying this. This suffering brought them satisfaction.

And here she was giving them exactly what they wanted.

Screaming.

All the trepidation, anxiety, panic spilling over and turning into the tortured cries of a banshee witnessing an impending massacre.

In a way she was. Although, she was certainly no banshee. She was a girl. Terrified out of her mind. Bowing down to an utterly illogical, stubbornly unyielding fear that dug its talons into her body and refused to let go.

Her cries were getting louder and louder and louder, leaving her throat raw and aching. Her own treacherous ear drums threatened to shatter. She brought both her palms up to the sides of her head in an attempt to limit the damage, all to no avail.

There was nothing in her but fear. It was as if she was made of it. A crippling, chilling fear that hallowed out her insides and made a home for itself in the marrow of her bones. There was no light. There was no happy end. But there was fear.

Fear.

Fear.

Fear.

There is no where to go. This was it. How I meet my end. No one can save me.

These thoughts zoomed through her skull as her screams continuing to puncture the nights unearthly stillness.

And then the most peculiar thing happened.

Time seemed to halt. The movement around her slowed. There was a flurry of emotions and thoughts colliding in her head. Her wounds. The gnashes on her body kept bleeding, but now the blood ran thin. Crimson lines dripping down and streaked across her neck, arms, and knees, and with it, she felt the draining of all her trepidation, her anxiety, her panic. It took with it her apprehension. Her terror. Her shock. And in its place surfaced an undying rage. A rage that tore its way through her body. Her mind. Her chest. The hallow where scientists dictate her heart should be. And in its wake, instilled a sense of calm. Tranquility. Inner peace. She had never been this full of rage. She had experienced anger. . . But this? It was different. It was a rage so pure, so concentrated. Her inhibitions fled. Were no where to be found. It left her wondering how she'd never experienced something so freeing. So exhilarating.