Strangers

IV.

I’m walking home, my head swimming, when I hear a scream coming from a cluster of trees across the street. I take off towards the sound, stopping in a clearing. The temperature seems to have dropped several degrees, and it’s darker.

There’s a gleaming bronze sword in front of me. Now, I know under normal circumstances, you shouldn’t pick up a two foot weapon, but I walk over and pick it up.

Someone breathes behind me. I turn around, and nearly drop my blade. There’s a wrinkled old man in a bathrobe holding a cane standing a few feet in front of me.

He doesn’t open his mouth, but a hissing sound comes out.

‘I have not been resurrected to find my path blocked by a worthless mundane like you. This is an insult to my existence’

‘Gee, thanks’

‘You must die’ He hisses with a gleam in his eye ‘She will relish the sacrifice’

The cane melts into a gold spear. He charges at me, and I only have time to think: This is a pretty freaking embarrassing way to die. Killed by a confused old grandpa who could seriously use a shave.

I try to run, but the tip of his spear catches me on my shoulder- and a shock runs through the right side of my body.

Damn, I think, that thing is electric.

He jabs at me again, but I sidestep, and stab into his side. He wails, but I only managed to annoy him. His old man form melts into a monster. He looks like the grim reaper, except his face is just mist, his hands are red, scarred purple.

He punctures my right arm twice with his spear, and I double over in pain.

Any bravery I had left vanishes. I’m not a hero. I can’t kill this creature. What’s happening to me? I must be insane, fighting a misty man with a sword in an orchard. Dark mist rolls off in waves him and envelops me, and my vision starts to go blurry. I’m going to die.

I take one last try, and throw my sword at him like a knife. I can just make out the creature melting into the shadows.

I try to sit up, but the breath has been knocked out of my lungs. My right side feels like it’s embedded with needles. My arm’s broken, or maybe sprained. Gasping for breath, I vaguely remember art class. Rachel … and Eve.

If I survive, I’m not going to be able to go anymore. I won’t be able to play football. We had a match coming up. I have to stay alive. I hear faint footsteps, out on the street. I try to call out for help, but all that comes out is a strangled yelp.

I close my eyes.

I’m standing in the doorway of a throne room. On the throne sits a woman with dark hair. I focus my eyes, and see it is woven with snakes. Her face is beautiful, but her eyes are completely black. No white. The designs on her gown are woven with bones and leathery skin.

She stands up and walks to and old man kneeling in front of her. His hands are chained, and there’s dried blood on them.

The woman sneers down at him, and I get a look at her throne. There are carvings out of stone on the pedestal below the seat. The carvings are of naked humans crushed into one another, their faces and bodies twisted in pain and terror. They are forced to support the seat of honor she sits on.

When the old man speaks, his voice sounds quite familiar.

‘Heal him, my lady’ He begs

‘Silence, you insufferable man’ She snarls ‘I have called upon you for information of the curse’

‘I shall give you anything you desire, your highness. But please, first … save the boy’ He puts his head on her feet.

‘You dare touch me?’ She kicks his head ‘The boy dies as we speak, you fool. The child must not be saved. He shall not live beyond today, nor shall he spread any further suffering to our kind. Much like you did.’

Their conversation becomes a distant buzz, I am only aware of myself. My heartbeat is slowing.

The scene shifts. I’m at the edge of a chasm in a wasteland. Next to me, there is a bent, bony figure of a girl with wild dark hair. She is kneeling over the edge of the chasm, retching and sobbing.

I try to cry out for her to get away from the edge, but no sound comes. I put my hand on her shoulder, and she turns. I draw back in shock.

 It is the girl from my drawing. Once, she must have been beautiful. She seems from recent memory, other than from the sketch I made. Her face is exactly like I remember from my drawing. Suddenly, she slips into the pit of which I see no bottom, and grabs onto the ledge.

 Feeling panicked, I reach my arms out, determined to save her from the fate I knew she would have. She takes them- and pulls me into the chasm with her.

As we fall, her mouth that was open in a scream of terror curves into a smile. 

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Okay, another chapter out. 

Happy reading and what not! 

Oh, and for the romantics out there, check out my other story "Yours, Truly" 

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Also, should I do a cast for this story? Tell me what you think.

- Raven