Maya's eyes blinked in quick fits. The air around her was congested. Unsaid words and emotions hurtled in the air. The black void around her remained unnerving. The blackness began to clear, stifling its dark toll. Colour slowly morphed into the environment. They first overlapped, blurring the lines between the distinct colors making them appear as a horrid mess .
Soon, it slowly evened out. The colours shifting to position, they swirled a bit before they became stoic. She blinked. She was in a dimly lit hall. Her emotions heightened. Her chest constricted. Her body trembled. The only source of light, stood a few feet away from her by a door. A torch. Its glowing flames threw shadows on the near walls. The crackle of its dance comforted her somewhat.
Soon, light voices crept down the hall. The uneasiness choked her yet, she started to walk.
Down the hall, her vision began to singe. The spiraling emotions swept through the boughs of her mind. She gritted her teeth, the hollowing of her vision continued. Deep lobes of pain reared through the corners of her heart. She fell onto her knees, the urgency to reach the end of the hall burning in her.
She crawled, barely seeing through the flickers of vision. The anxiety filled the hall, suffocating her. She clawed through grits of a slightly damaged wooden floor. Soon, she reached the end of the hall. The heightened emotions increased. Her vision zoned in and out. Her body flailed, the grotesque nature of the floor hammering down on her brain. A wail fingered past her.
She resisted and clambered to her feet. The numbness of her feet made her wobble. She fell to her knees as she hung on to the frame of the door. Metallic. She raised her head. In a bed in the middle of the room, a woman. Not a woman but the hollow shell of a human being lay. A man weept, his head digging into the plush sheets of the bed. Yet, her mind seemed to remain blank.
Who are these people?
Nothingness swirled through the burrows of her mind. The prickling feeling in her chest told her she knew. The woman's face was pale beyond comprehension. The red hair splayed across a strikingly white pillow. Even, her hair seemed too pale to belong to a living person. Her eyes zoned on the the golden trinket that lay on an outstretched hand that hung down the side of the bed. No. She noticed now. The person and the trinket she hadn't seen before.
A little girl with forest green eyes and curly blonde hair, stayed at her bedside clinging onto her palm. Too aghast to cry or scream. The girl. The woman. Her head swiveled. Suddenly, screams ransacked the environment. A mighty rush of wind carried hundreds of thousands of disfigured voices, all screaming something undecipherable.
Her hair whipped back as she clawed at the floor. Her brain looped , frying under the insurmountable weight. Her emotions jumbled, lolling within her. Cobwebs threaded through her inside, binding further valuables. Pain wove through her. The massacre killed streams of reasoning in her. The voices continued to roar in their frenzied state, their voices barely passing as human. Then the howl of the voices got starkly clear.
The images of both the girl and the woman flooded into mind. The voices continued to howl one painful word.
Mother!
After that, her mind fell apart.
She jerked out of sleep. Her gasps were loud and clear. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her eyes flicked through the room, looking for both the woman and the girl. To meet the screaming. The starkly white sheets. She continued to look. None of it was here. She ran a hand through her hair. The dark and tiny little room made of dark oak wood made no semblance to that of the room. The light from the rising overhead sun from the window behind her bed sunk its rays to illuminate.
She pulled her hands away from her hair and jammed them together. The hollowness remained. The pain cascaded down her chest. She didn't need anyone to tell her. Even after 5 years, the feelings never stepped down. Her ringing ears. Her hammering chest. Her trembling limbs. The horrific nightmare.
Today was the day.
The day her mother died. She sighed. She tried to move her legs from the mess of tangled sheets. She suddenly felt the drenched state of her sleeping garments. Sweat continued to pool down her in light beads. The dark shade that the dream left on her mind drew further down.
The feeling of wood against her body. She wallowed slowly. The screams. Her heart hammered. Her younger and horrified self. The stench of decay and death. Her head fell onto her palms. Her breaths rasped out faster than before. The flashes of images flickered through her in fast paces.
The cauldron of emotions returned. She scratched her face. Her vision shook. The room began to spin. The voices returned, brandishing her mind with the calloused musk of the deceased. Her mother. Her face flashed. Her pale face. Her limbs trembled. Her extremely cracked lips. The weight on her chest squeezed the air out of her. She sputtered. Her throat clogged. Spasms of headache came back, stressing her down.
Her head spun. Her breathing wobbled. She continued to tremble under the dark storm of emotions. Her headache increased. She bit down on her lip. Hard. Her head continued to be plunged into a recurring nightmare. The images ran down at the background.
She breathed. The wobbly motion barely escaping her throat. She continued as she straightened her back. She closed her eyes, allowing the darkness encase her. The images continued to envelope the corridor of her mind. She pushed them back. The dark cloud was slowly pushed and restrained into a little chest, locked in a tiny vault.
She sighed. At least now she could control them. She pulled herself from the tangle of sheets. Her bare feet dropped onto the cold oak floor. She felt breathless, suddenly tired. She pushed the feeling away. She dragged her feet against the wood, heading to the wardrobe that stood at the left side of the room. Soon, she had pulled on an old black tunic before pulling on a pair of tights. She hurried to the door where her boots lay just beside it. She wiggled her feet into it quickly.
She walked out of the door and into a semi dark small corridor. A now nearly burnt candle laid at a small candle holder etched to the wall. Three other mahogany doors; two by her left and one by her right, ran through the corridor. The sound of the clip clop of her boots distracted her train of thought.
The room was a combination of two rooms. To Mayas right, a little table stood at the centre surrounded by freshly made chairs. The scent of wood reeked from them. Pushed to the east wall, a little distance from the table was a fire place. Chunks of ashes peeked out from the other piles of wood that covered them. The floor was a honey brown.
Towards her left, the floor changed to a dark brown. Another table, except smaller and its edges outlined with metal lay at the middle. Pushed to the leftmost corner was a small furnace. On top of it, was a small metal pot that sizzled as the heat from the furnace whisked up to it. Identical drawers lined the top walls, matching the colour of the wall except the graying patches of decay. A few mud clays bowls were packed into a neat pile at the corner with some other clay equipment.
She walked out the door, the silence of the house baring through her. A flower bed with thriving flowers lined the gravelly path. She picked up a red flower. The prickly surface of it coerced her fingers. She dropped it in the pocket of the side of the tunic. A stone wall encircled the compound like the rest of the houses. She walked through a little gate held rigid by a leathery latch. She unhooked it and set off for the Graveyard.
Stone walkways ascended and descended through this landform. It wove through the buildings, paling the environment a bit. Each building was made of dried mud and stone, similar looking designs across the environment. A bungalow, some larger than the others with a thatched roof that stifled under the sun's alarming rays . Flowerbeds and hedges lined these walkways, their scents drenching the atmosphere. Marble statues of a few officials, stood brightly at the way side of the walkways. The walkways were empty just how they were every morning, they were all ready meeting at the clearing. She walked down the walkway that became broader and sturdier. Soon she entered the central walkway, a large marble statue stood at the heart of the walkway. There, other smaller walkways sprang up from it.
The statue glinted at the sun. Maya felt the anger bubble up. She gritted her teeth, stomping violently on the ground. If he had just provided the herbs for their isle. Her chest constricted. If he had just been the benevolent leader that he should have. Her joints shook even after she passed the statue. If he had just tried to care. Her face grew hot. The hollow cloud escaped from its vault with a growl.
Her eyes swam in and out of focus. If only he wasn't so money hungry. Her ears rung. If only he and those other horrible leaders weren't so obsessed with position. If only he and his advisers had just agreed to give them the batch of herb and medicine in exchange for the little money their isle had been able to pool.
Her fists clenched. Her mother would've been alive. She breathed in sharply. Her head spun. The cloud of darkness soaked into every pore. The loud gurgle stifled the sense of reasoning. Her eyes trembled. The scent of blood, only sensed by her, afflicted her nostrils.
A reason apart from getting out of this wretched isle that she wanted to go to the Central isle. The pain that breathed down on her worsened. Her headache went on a rampage again. She collapsed onto the walkway. Her knees scraped against the coarse stone edges. The jagged edges drew blood from her knees. The statue lingered in her mind, fueling her anger. To get back at that horrible man.
The coherent thought crossed through her head. She felt the thirst for violence claw at her fists. The anger within her had filled a cup in her mind. The dark contents sloshed, spiraling with force. It began to crack, the tiny scar maliciously gnawing away to something more. The heat rose to her belly. As if slapped out of it, she tried to push it away.
Think of happy thoughts, she tried. Yet, the silent urge to make the supreme leader pay grew. Soon, she began to run. The surroundings at her periphery went by in a blur. The seething rage increased. She ran faster. The itch for violence clawed harder. She ignored the misty stones that were all engraved into the edges of this highland before sloping down to the beady grains of sand. Sweat pooled down her body as she clambered down the large wooden staircase that led to the large expanse of sand.
The rest of the population stretched across the huge expanse of sand. The population was silent as they all bowed. At the centre of it all, another statue of the supreme leader stood in towering glory with an owl perched on his arm. The tips glinted, sparkling under the life of the song. Her anger swept through her as she speed walked, clambering past the haze of people as they spoke. The song of accolade.
Their voices rose in unison, young and old as their voices filled the silent air.
To you whom reigns above,
In caves and high alcoves,
Of strength and wisdom you guide,
Of intuition and courage you glide.
To your visage that blesses our eyes,
In the passing of days and nights,
Of beauty and pride you shimmer,
Of love and affection you glimmer.
To your scales that set us alight,
Aghast to your treasury of light,
Of harmony and grace you manifest,
Of trust and loyalty you protect.
To your bosom that ripens with fruit,
And your hands that glisten with loot,
Of luck and fortune you refine,
The forces of life that define.
She walked faster, unwilling to let it sink in her mind. He had done nothing but cause pain. His extreme taxes. The outrageous laws. She drew in breath after breath, feeling her arms prickling with violent thoughts. Her boots sunk into the beady sand, her vision wavering. Her mother, dead or alive, was and will always be more important than any important authoritative figure.
After what felt like hours, she'd reached the Graveyard; it was a walking distance from the forest that stretched right after the scorching sand. A few weeds and small shrubs obscured the tiny railings of the fence that circled the land. Maya soon stopped. Her chest heaved from exertion. The smell of the damp soil licked her nostrils. She felt the dearth of happiness in her heart. Two wooden poles grounded into the damp soil stood at its centre.
A plank of wood hung across both of them, scraped onto it in a sad and droopy manner was The Graveyard. A horrid stench reached her nose. It didn't faze her though. She picked her way through the overgrowth of vines and creepers that marred the soil. She could see the entirety of the land that rolled up and down in tiny lumps. Headstones stood at different places; some a bit brighter and larger while the rest duller and smaller. A few trees covered this seemingly bare place.
The anger she'd accumulated sucked on her energy. She walked forward, not so minding the many rocks scattered across the soil. The familiar smell of death that resonated in her mind filled her. She continued walking, her eyes casting around the familiar place.
A few headstones were littered both her sides. She didnt have to look at them to know the information.
AALIYAH IWAR
BORN IN THE XV YEAR, ON THE III MONTH AND THE XX DAY OF THE REIGN OF HIS SUPREME HIGHNESS, RHETT RENOLD ISSACAR
DIED OF THE BIRD FLU IN THE XXIII YEAR, ON THE X MONTH AND THE III DAY OF THE REIGN OF HIS SUPREME HIGHNESS, RHETT RENOLD ISSACHAR.
MAY HIS SUPREME HIGHNESS GRANT YOU SAFE PASSAGE.
IZDIHAR JOD
BORN IN THE X YEAR, ON THE VI MONTH AND THE XI DAY OF THE REIGN OF HIS SUPREME HIGHNESS, RHETT RENOLD ISSACAR
DIED OF THE BIRD FLU IN THE XXIII YEAR, ON THE III MONTH AND THE II DAY OF THE REIGN OF HIS SUPREME HIGHNESS RHETT RENOLD ISSACAR
MAY HIS SUPREME HIGHNESS GRANT YOU SAFE PASSAGE.
So many more people lay, murdered by the bird flu that had rampaged the Western isle five years ago. The massacre was one of the worst that had gone down. She knew a lot of the the headstones that had passed by heart. Five years was a long time. Yet, it was only one headstone that struck a chord within her.
The crunching of twigs resounded beneath her feet. Soon she saw it, under a mighty tree that its branches spanned more than six people with both their arms apart, the headstone lay. She rushed to it almost slipping over a small boulder piled with moss. She caught herself before running to it, she stopped upon entering the shade of the tree. Its evergreen leaves delighted in the basking hot sun. Some of its leaves got pulled away by the little breeze that caressed her. They silently dropped to the floor.
Maya soon stopped at the headstone. It was larger than the average sized one. It was made of marble that still sparkled with life. Metal encased its sides, allowing the pinkish marble fade away to a dull blue metal that was barely available in this isle. The bottom wilted from the marble to hard bluish-grey stone. Fit for a queen. She read the words engraved into it although she knew them already.
SKYE CLOVER
BORN IN THE XXXII YEAR, ON THE IV MONTH AND THE XV DAY OF THE REIGN OF HIS SUPREME HIGHNESS, SINJIN DREUX ISSACAR
DIED OF THE BIRD FLU IN THE XXIII YEAR, ON THE III MONTH AND THE IV DAY OF THE REIGN OF HIS SUPREME HIGHNESS, RHETT RENOLD ISSACAR
QUEEN OF THE WESTERN ISLE UNDER THE REIGN OF HIS SUPREME HIGHNESS, RETT RENOLD ISSACAR
MAY HIS SUPREME HIGHNESS GRANT YOU SAFE PASSAGE.
Her blood boiled at the mention of The Supreme Leader. Her anger pulsed within her. Her fists trembled, blanching bit by bit. Her breaths wheezed out of her chest. She envisioned the statue of the man. His face puffing out as a result of his notorious gluttony. Her nails dug into her palms. His plush body stood on a high pedestal, his stubby and petite hands lying on his rounded hips. His apparel thickly stretching across his body in multiple layers that spoke of royalty.
Jewels covered him from head to toe, showing the world, the impoverished and rich, how much he had acquired. His mousy features looked on from his rotund face hinting at the scum that he truly was, undeserving of the praise and worship his subjects were forced to accord him. His bright and strong owl perched on his shoulder. Otto. She gritted her teeth. The greatest of the birds of the eight isles, the richest in knowledge. Being trusted as far as to judge trials. The man only truly cared for those who stocked the world treasury at the Capital in Central. Her stomach lurched.
"I'll get back at you for this." Her words left out her mouth in a venomous tone. She would make him pay . For taking one of the few people that was there for her every step of the way. She shook out of her thoughts and and grabbed the flower from her pocket. She reached over the headstone and dropped it into a an old and exotic vase that already overflowed with other flowers.
She knelt down, pushing the pieces of pebbles away. She took a small and flimsy rag from her other pocket and cleaned the headstone. The little pints of dirt and muck sunk and stuck to the fabric of the rag.
"You know, revenge wont really help you." a voice said quietly from behind her. Maya wasnt surprised. She wiped down the headstone.
"I thought you were still doing the morning praise." Maya said instead, her face set as she wiped the metal corners.
"We finished off early, the monthly announcements came in this morning from the hawks so, they let us off early. I also wanted to be sure that you were okay." the girl said as she ran a hand through her light brown hair. Maya dropped the handkerchief back into her pocket and shuffled up to her feet. She turned to her.
"Amelia, do I look like I'm sad? No. So, you don't need to check up on me. I'm fine." Maya said as she folded her hands over her chest. Maya towered above Amelia a little. Her dark brown eyes bored through Maya's green ones. Amelia sighed as she picked at the sleeves of her gray tunic.
"Look, this whole revenge plan won't help you to get over your feeling of loss." Amelia said. Maya turned away, already settling back to her former position. She swiped the handkerchief down the muddled stone.
"Why?" She asked in nonchalance. Amelia circled to the front of the headstone.
"He wasn't even the one that killed her in the first place. Besides, the deed has been done and nothing can change that-" Maya visibly stiffened "Two wrongs don't make a right." A crackle of annoyance sapped through Maya. She looked up at Amelia with a forced smile.
"So now youre acting all self righteous? Why am I surprised, acting like your pure lot?" Maya's tone soured with every word. Maya picked herself up from the floor. Amelia circled back to stand beside her as she dusted her tunic.
"I'm not being self righteous. I'm just stating the truth, that's what friends are for. Revenge wont give you a hint of satisfaction; you'll just end up back in square one!" Maya looked back at her with narrowed eyes.
"Even if you luckily carry it out, nothing will change," she grabbed Maya's calloused hand with her soft palms. "You have to let go." She said pleadingly. Maya pulled her hand back sharply.
"You disgust me." Her face scrunched up. Anger and irritation pulsed off her. "It's that scum of a leaders fault that my mother is dead, that your parents are dead. I was there when the council members had said their plea to Central had been denied even though we all knew they had the exact herbs needed to combat the flu. Letting go would be like saying, I'm fine with what they did and my mother's life was merely based on how much gold she could offer." Amelia flinched slightly, cowering at the harshness that she hadn't heard in a long while.
"Of course their lives do matter, all I'm saying is you avenging them won't help anything. It won't bring them back to life. Plus, this talking could get you killed." She placed a hand on Mayas shoulder. Maya couldn't help but scoff.
"Of course you'd say that, you sound awfully like Diane. Those loving people were all willing to stay by your side and attend to your every need while,I was lying day and night by this grave, not even my wonderful father and brother giving a heed to my situation. And the days that I wasn't here, I was at my house being beaten, starved and insulted by my family!" The word felt bitter on her tongue. Maya moved away, Amelias hand fell off her shoulder.
"I'm-"
"The only person that would have cared had suddenly died and it felt like there was nothing that I could do." Sadness crept up her body. It pushed past her eyes. The surface of her eyes glistened slightly before it wiped away. Amelia watched her friend sadly.
"At least you have Alia, Ajax, Diane and I." Silence. She looked forward, watching the rest of the similar lumps that rose and fell.
"Amelia, go home. You've helped enough." Amelia opened her mouth to say something but she stopped herself. Amelia's head drooped slightly. Her lips curled down, her usual smile no where in sight. She turned away silently before walking down the path she came. The sound of her retreating footsteps entwined with the guilt that resonated within Maya.
She'd got caught up in her sadness again. Shed have to apologize later. After, what felt like minutes she reached up to the golden trinket. She rubbed it softly. The words Amelia said all this time failed to help her. Her anger towards the man, rekindled. Like a mighty flame, it waltzed brightly. Her stomach rumbled, reminding' her of her negligence to food this morning. She looked back at the headstone softly. The fire wilted. She tenderly touched it, grasping onto the happy memories her mother had shared with her. She turned away from the headstone. As soon as she'd done that, her eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing here?"
I want to thank God for giving me the Grace to write this. Who do you think she saw? Vote and comment if you like.