The stillness of the barren fields was punctuated only by the rhythmic panting of the two boys, their breaths visible in the crisp air as they trained with unwavering determination. They moved with a sense of urgency, aware that the encroaching winter was fast approaching. With each drop of sweat that fell to the earth, they prepared themselves, their bodies and minds honing in on the strength and resilience needed to face the challenges that the cold season would inevitably bring. The stark landscape around them, stripped of its harvest, served as a reminder of the starkness of the season to come, and they pushed on, forging their wills in the face of the impending frost.
The fields were our arena, the earth our witness, as we pushed our bodies to the limit, training under the vast, open sky. Our goal was singular: to gain entry into the prestigious battle school, a place where strength and skill were currency, and where that currency translated into a generous allowance for the adept. "Hey Ash," the familiar voice of my friend cut through the silence, his grin wide and infectious. Despite my countless corrections, he clung to the nickname 'Ash' with a stubborn fondness, and so, in playful retaliation, I had begun to call him 'Al', short for Alex.
His use of my nickname earned a simple hum from me, an acknowledgment steeped in the camaraderie that had grown between us. "When we get into the school, I'm gonna use that money to move my mom out of this wretched place," he declared, the smile on his face betraying the gravity of his words. A pause followed, a brief lapse into contemplation, before he suddenly leaped up, startling me. His abrupt movement sent a jolt through me, a mix of surprise and anticipation for the dreams that lay on the horizon, dreams that the battle school could help us achieve.
His question hung in the air, a challenge and a curiosity all at once. "What about you, Ash? What will you do with your money?" We were but ten years old, the age where dreams are as vast as the skies, yet the reality of the battle school was a distant shore, five years away. The thought hadn't truly crossed my mind; after all, fifteen was an eternity away at our age. Yet, Alex's question stirred something within me, a flicker of contemplation about my own future and the possibilities that money could unlock.
As I waded through my thoughts, trying to grasp at an answer, Alex's sudden burst of energy caught me off guard, my heart skipping a beat in tandem with his lively motions. "Okay, grandma, it wasn't a trick question," he teased, his voice dancing with mischief. Without missing a beat, I reached out and thumped him lightly on the back of his head, a playful reprimand for the nickname he knew all too well got under my skin. It was our way, this back and forth, a dance of words and jests that wove the fabric of our friendship tighter with each shared laugh and dream.
"I know, idiot," I sighed, the nickname slipping out with an affectionate roll of my eyes. Gathering my thoughts, I finally addressed the question that lingered between us. "I'd leave, too... take my mom and sister somewhere safe, somewhere far from the shadows that cling to this place," I murmured, my gaze lifting to the endless blue above us. As I let my eyes drift shut, basking in the warmth of the sun, a prickling sensation crept over me, the unmistakable feeling of being observed. Cracking one eye open, I found Alex's intense gaze fixed on me, an uncharacteristic silence enveloping him. "Okay, you're being unusually quiet, and you're staring me down. Stop looking at me, idiot," I hissed, a playful edge to my words despite the unease that tinged them. The silence stretched on, a stark contrast to Alex's usual stream of banter, leaving a peculiar void where his voice should have been. It was a rare moment of stillness from him, one that hung in the air, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Perplexed by the sudden shift in the air, I couldn't help but raise my voice, a touch of concern threading through my words. "Okay, what the hell is wrong?" I shouted, my eyes snapping open as I jerked my head up to face his direction, only to find him looking down, his usual firey spirit dimmed. His voice, uncharacteristically soft, broke the tension. "If you move, can me and mom come with you... You won't abandon me, right, Ash?" The vulnerability in Alex's question was a stark contrast to his typically loud and obnoxious demeanor. I felt a deep sigh escape me as I reached out, draping my arm around his shoulder.
"I'm not going anywhere without you, Al, okay?" I assured him, my words a sturdy bridge over his sea of doubts. It seemed to do the trick; a spark reignited in his eyes as he quickly perked up. With a bounce in his step, he leapt to his feet, extending his hand to pull me up alongside him.
As Alex extended his hand toward me, I couldn't help but notice the scar etched across his skin—a memento from the day a flying rock had sealed our friendship. I clasped his hand, feeling the familiar roughness, and with a gentle tug, he hoisted me to my feet.
Looking up, I was met with his signature toothy grin, yet something was different. An orange hue bathed his face, casting a warm glow that piqued my curiosity. I turned, following the source of this unexpected light, only to be greeted by the breathtaking canvas of the sunset.
The sky, once a vast expanse of unblemished blue, was now awash with a mesmerizing blend of reds and oranges. It was as if the heavens themselves were ablaze, the colors dancing and flickering with the same life as a crackling fire. I stood there, transfixed by the spectacle.
The sudden grip on my arm sent a jolt of tension through my body, but it melted away as soon as I recognized the hand as Alex's. "Time to go, Ash. The parents will start to worry," he murmured, a note of urgency in his voice. He was right; lingering was not an option.
I nodded, silently agreeing, and we began our covert retreat, weaving through the shadows to avoid the prying eyes of townsfolk. To them, we were omens of misfortune, targets for their fear-fueled aggression. We maneuvered with practiced stealth, our presence undetected, our spirits unscathed by their groundless accusations.
As we reached the familiar territory of our neighboring homes, the tension of our escape dissolved into the night. Our laughter mingled in the air—his boisterous, mine more subdued—as we celebrated another successful evasion with a triumphant fist bump. With a shared nod, we parted ways, each disappearing into the sanctuary of our own home, the echo of our chuckles a testament to the day's adventure and training.
The air in my house suddenly vibrated with the high-pitched summons of "BUBBA!" echoing off the walls, a title that could only belong to one person in the world—my little sister. There she was, a tiny whirlwind of blonde curls and piercing blue eyes, the spitting image of innocence... if not for the scowl she was currently sporting.
"You idiot," she huffed, though the insult was softened by the smile I couldn't suppress. She was a determined little sprite, grappling with a stool far too big for her petite frame. The stool wobbled as she dragged it across the floor, her tiny muscles straining with the effort.
With a triumphant huff, she planted the stool before me and clambered atop it like a queen conquering her throne. Yet, even perched on her makeshift pedestal, she had to stretch onto the tips of her toes to level her gaze with mine. Her eyes were alight with the fire of a five-year-old's grave injustice as she declared, "You promised to play with me at lunch, and yet it's supper."
Her pout was formidable, her brows knitting together in a display of adorable indignation. I could only chuckle at the sight, my heart swelling with affection for this pint-sized bundle of sass who had me wrapped around her little finger.
Her hand gripped my cheek, causing my face to contort into a series of comical expressions. "To make up for that, I demand a piggy back ride, Bubba!" she declared, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The sheer excitement in her voice was infectious, a reminder that she remained untouched by the harsh realities of the world that often plagued our small town.
I couldn't help but be filled with joy at her request. She was a beacon of happiness, a reminder that innocence and pure joy could still exist amidst the chaos. With a nod, I agreed, dropping to one knee in a swift motion. In a flash, she leaped from the stool onto my back, her small arms wrapping around my neck for stability.
And then, we were off. I straightened up, her weight easily carried by the strength of my legs from the physical labor I do to earn a little money. We embarked on a grand adventure through the house, her gleeful laughter echoing through the halls. We were free from the burdens of the world, lost in our own little bubble of laughters.
The nights were often harsh, a stark reminder of the disdain the villagers harbored towards us. It was the fact they believed my mother was a witch and cursed that left our pantry empty, forcing us to forage in the dense woods that bordered our home. My mother was out there right now, scouring the forest looking for food for the next day.
Our life hadn't always been shadowed by the cold shoulder of a town. Once, we dwelled in the solitude of the mountains, before we met Alex and his mother, before my father went missing, a place where the sky felt close enough to touch and the stars were our nightly companions. But fate, with its unpredictability, uprooted us from our home, sending us tumbling down into the valley of judgmental eyes.
As I walked through the house, my sister's weight on my back was a comforting presence. My mind had been wandering in the thought of our past struggles, but the soft, rhythmic sound of her yawning brought me back to the present. I felt her small chest rise and fall against my back as her grip loosened slightly, the adventures of the day catching up to her. With each step, I felt a renewed determination to carry not just her tired body, but also the hope that one day, we'd find our place of acceptance.
"Hey there, bubba! Where do you think your off to?" she asked, her voice filled with suspicion as she caught on to my plan fully waking her back up. I couldn't help but chuckle at her cleverness. "Well, Alyssa, I'm actually heading to your bedroom," I replied, causing her to let out a sniffle. "But bubba, I thought we were gonna play some more. I wanna play dress-up, and you can be the princess!" she giggled, her excitement palpable. I couldn't resist her infectious laughter, but I had a different idea in mind.
With a small smile, I gently placed her on the bed. It was an old, creaky bed"Goodnight, bubba. Love you," she whispered giving into her sleepiness, her voice filled with innocence and affection. I sighed softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling upon me. "Yeah, yeah, goodnight," I mumbled, my tiredness seeping into my words. But I promised myself that I would tell her I loved her tomorrow, before breakfast. Right now, I was just too weary to do anything else.
I shuffled over to the candle, the little flame doing its last dance before I blew it out. A stream of smoke rose up, like it was trying to chase after the light it just lost. I watched it disappear before heading out the door, giving it a quiet push to close it behind me.
Then, off to my room I went, the hallway feeling extra long tonight. My bed's as welcoming as a slab of concrete, but hey, it's mine. You'd be surprised how something so hard can start to feel like home after a while. I dropped onto it, not even bothering to get under the covers.
My eyes started feeling like they had weights on them, and before I knew it, everything just faded out. I was out like a light, deep in dreamland before I could even think about how the day went.
smoke....was that smoke...thats all i could think about and smell, The pervasive odor enveloped me, a relentless assault on my senses, My head was all over the place, like I was stuck in some weird, foggy dream. Breathing was like trying to inhale through a tiny straw, my lungs ablaze with an intense, searing pain.I was on the edge of consciousness, my body yearning to succumb to the weight of sleep once again.my physical form lagging behind my mental commands. The act of sitting up felt like an eternity, my limbs heavy and uncooperative, betraying my desperate attempts to rouse them from their slumber.
Opening my eyes was like turning on the high beams in pitch darkness. Too bright, too sudden. It reminded me of those stories about seeing the light when you're born. But this? This was a whole different kind of light. It wasn't warm or welcoming, rather, it bore an ominous quality, a sinister glow that foretold of danger. It took a few moments for my eyes to adapt to the intensity of the light, and as they did, the grim reality of my surroundings became apparent. The brightness that had initially blinded me now revealed itself to be the malevolent dance of flames, a realization that struck a chord of primal fear within me.
. as soon as i was gonna reach it my door had exploded and the heat of the flames had made its way to me, out of instinct i brought up my hand to protect my face and turned my back to it my adrenaline was rushing so i didn't feel the burn on my shoulder that would soon leave a scar. the door that had been somehow exploded off the hinges hit me and threw me against a wall.
As the smoke crept into my room, I instinctively raised my hands, which are usually icy to the touch, to my face. But this time, they radiated an unfamiliar warmth. I pressed them against my mouth and nose, trying to filter the smoky air. My coughs punctuated the silence as I urged my sluggish body.
Trapped and desperate, I scanned my surroundings for another escape. My gaze darted around the room until it settled on the window. It was a simple opening without a frame—luxuries like that were beyond our means. Yet, it seemed just large enough to fit my body though. The lack of a frame, once a reminder of our financial struggles, now appeared as a beacon of hope in the chaos.
In an instant, my world was reduced to a blur of disorientation. There I was, sprawled on the ground, the hard surface pressing against my back. A veil of confusion clouded my thoughts, making it hard to piece together the sequence of events that had led me here. I could feel a pervasive heat enveloping me.
A peculiar sensation caught my attention—a warm, iron-tasting liquid trickling down from my head. It was unsettlingly familiar, the taste of blood. My mind struggled to make sense of it, to understand the why and the how, but clarity remained just out of reach.
Amidst the haze, a voice pierced through the chaos, insistent and clear.
"Wake up."
echoed with urgency.
"Wake up,"
each iteration more pressing than the last a command that I couldn't ignore, compelling me to rise
'wake up' that kept ringing through my head.
Rising again, I was met with the advancing flames, their glow now closer, more insistent. Yet, within me, a strange tranquility had taken root. Emotions seemed distant,no fear, no pain, not even a flicker of joy.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, a familiar friend in the face of danger, but it was accompanied by something else, a force that filled me with a sense of power.
"Get out,"
the voice commanded once more, cutting through the silence with clarity and purpose. It spurred me into action, and almost reflexively, I found myself navigating through the window. The moment my feet touched the ground outside, reality crashed over me with overwhelming force. Every sensation that had been muted roared back to life, each one hitting me with the unstoppable force of a freight train. Overwhelmed by the ordeal, a fleeting sense of joy managed to surface amidst the turmoil. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the ground, utterly spent from the emotional drain that had just swept through me. As I lay there, the air was suddenly filled with a chorus of voices, chanting in unison with in a way that sent chills down my spine. The words they uttered were chilling, "Finally, the witch and her cursed offspring have been vanquished."
The townspeople were rejoicing, their cheers echoing with a dark satisfaction over the demise of a family — my family. The realization hit me like a tidal wave, and a profound sense of loss engulfed me. Wait, my family? The words echoed in my head as Desperation clawed at my mind spinning around, seeking any glimpse of my mom and sister amidst the chaos. They were nowhere—a haunting absence in the midst of smoke and flame. Then, cutting through the roar of the fire, their screams could be heard, one laced with the fear of a child, the other with the fierce protectiveness of a mother. Both cries were muffled by the hungry flames still consuming our home.
"No, no, no!" The words were a strangled cry, torn from the depths of my stomach. I had to save them, I had to reach through the fire and pull them to safety. My body tensed, every fiber of my being screaming to move, to act. But as my feet readied to launch me back into the blaze, a sudden force collided with me, sending me sprawling to the ground. Strong arms held me down, pinning me against the earth, as if the very ground had conspired to keep me from my family.
My heart sank as I heard the familiar voice calling me "Ash." Only one person ever used that nickname for me—my dear friend Alex. In that moment of despair, I realized that he was the only one who had ever truly seen me, who had taken the time to understand my dreams and fears. Tears welled up in my eyes as I pleaded with him, "Alex, please, let me go. They need me!"
I struggled against his firm grip, desperation fueling my every move. But no matter how hard I fought, his hold remained unyielding. It was as if he knew that my impulsive actions would only lead to my demise. "Ash, listen to me," he said, his voice filled with concern. "I can't let you go in there. You'll only get yourself killed."
After a couple minutes, the fire gradually subsided, its crackling flames replaced by a haunting silence, the townspeople dispersed, leaving behind a desolate scene. No more screams echoed through the air, no more cries for help. Only the eerie sound of smoldering embers filled the void. But amidst the stillness, I felt a gentle sensation on my face—a trickle of water.
The raw emotion in Alex's voice made it clear that the loss was as personal for him as it was for me. They weren't just my family; they were his too, in all the ways that mattered. He had been a constant presence in our lives, and the thought that he might be mourning them as deeply as I was only added to the pain.
As the fire raged on, I felt his weight lift from me. For a moment, I was confused, thinking perhaps Alex's grief had become too much, but then I realized it wasn't his tears that dampened my cheeks—it was the sky itself, weeping with us. The clouds, heavy with sorrow, had opened up, unleashing a downpour that began to quench the flames which had consumed everything I loved.
I sat there, numb, watching as the rain washed away the fiery destruction, feeling as though it was trying to cleanse the despair that had settled over my heart. No tears came from me; it was as if the sky was crying the tears I couldn't find within myself.
Then, out of the somber quiet that followed the storm's intervention, I felt a weight once more. But it wasn't the oppressive force of restraint—it was something warmer, more comforting. It was Alex's arms, pulling me into an embrace, a silent promise that he was there, that we were in this together. A cascade of heartfelt remorse, seemed to drift past me, barely registering in the haze of my shock. "I'm so sorry, Ash, I'm so, so sorry," he repeated, but the words just floated through one ear and out the other, unable to find a place to land within my numbed mind.
It was only when I spoke, my voice hollow, devoid of any emotions, that I realized the depth of my own detachment. "I didn't even get the chance to say I love you back to her," I murmured, the words feeling foreign as they left my lips, as if someone else were speaking them.
Ash's eyes, brimming with empathy, met mine, and I saw my pain reflected in his gaze. Without a word, he stepped forward, pulling me into an embrace that seemed to break the dam I hadn't known was there. My tears, salty and bitter, began to flow freely, blending with the rain that continued to pour from the heavens. It was as though the sky and I were mourning in unison, our tears mingling as the reality of my loss finally hit me.
The throbbing pain in my heart was an unbearable weight, a relentless reminder with every breath that they were gone, and I was here, submerged in a sorrow that whispered I was unworthy to continue without them.
Each pulse of pain was like a knife, stabbing over and over, a cruel echo of loss that refused to be silenced. The flames that had taken them danced cruelly in my memory, their fiery tongues painting a picture too similar to the red sunset Alex and I had watched just before coming home...before the world as I knew it had crumbled to ash and grief.
That sunset, once a beautiful tapestry of color stretching across the sky, was now a haunting prelude to the nightmare that followed. The vibrant reds and oranges that had filled our eyes with wonder had turned to the malevolent glow of the fire that had stolen them from me. And there, in the ashes of my shattered reality, the pain was a relentless tide, ebbing and flowing but never ceasing, a constant reminder that they were dead, and I was left to navigate this darkened world without their light.