A magnificent view of the afternoon valley was framed through a gap in the dense thickets. Achida, carrying a small backpack, peered through the clearing, observing the scenery. Cows grazed with delight in lush enclosures and a golden light reflected off of the rows of farmland below. A faded barn's overspilling hay was captured by the slight breeze and blew lazily about. She stared through the hole in the brush, completely captivated with the view below. A slap landed on her back. Her foot struck a hole in the rocky terrain. Her ankle bent, and she tumbled forward, down the jagged slope and into a pile of gravel and sediment. She stood, shaking and twitching spasmodically. Darkness controlled her vision, fading slowly in and out. She laid down and tried to muster the strength to move herself. Her head sank into the gravel and there it stayed. The stars moved across the night sky, the sun sank below the horizon, and a dawn rose from the gory remains of yesteryear. Time was warped within the mind of Achida; strange beings invaded her pain-wrought thoughts and scratched at her wounds, pressing against her infected skull and consciousness. It was now that a hand illuminated with light, a hand glowing with the smoothness of purity and salvation, reached out to her. It cleansed her nightmares and Achida gradually awoke, dazed yet alive. This hand belonged to the cowering Miasra. She felt Achida's forehead, sensing the heat of anguish and horror. She surveyed the area, looking for clues for the unfortunate incident. Achida's eyelid opened. Her ills were vanquished with the mere touch of the healer that was Miasra. The injured stared into her liberator's eyes, past her beady pupils and into the truth of her existence. She knew at once that this meeting was no accident; this encounter was planned, by the universe, by the power that controlled their lives, by some force. She also knew that if not for the existence of Miasra, she would not be alive today. She would have drowned into the flaming coals of torture and barbarism. At once, she sat up. However, she saw the hillside behind Miasra, as well as a moving, cloaked figure, creeping amongst the bushes and grandiflora. She ran, far down the dirt road, scattering dust behind her. A black dot on the horizon diminished to nothing as Miasra watched in horror. She could only wonder the reasons for this daring escape. Little did she know until she noticed a shadow on the ground, moving ever-closer. She whirled around; she fell into an unescapable, permanent darkness with a jolt, a thud, and then silence. There was no savior this time.
My Divine Note:
yes, i know I make people die too much in these. It's just a dirty, cheap little trick to garner sweet, sweet, drama (as well as reggae).