Like Smoke
Eyes slit open as the darkness deepens to a colder shade of smoke-blackened grey. She's frozen; for a moment she thinks she is dead. No. She can see her breath, feel it in the darkness. There is no moon tonight. It fled, knowing the carnage about to be wrought upon Her land.
It's all so vivid in her mind; playing like a mildewed slideshow on her mental projector screen. First the fire; blinding, bright, unyielding fire. She can still feel the echoes of shattered screams, splintering through her ears as the forest cracked around her, falling to the element's immeasurable power.
Why. What had they done to deserve this terror? Were they ever the slightest bit unfaithful? Did they ever forget Her name? Her gifts?
The flames had come at them like buzzards, swooping down on their doomed prey - some of it already dead, and the rest slowly dying. Even those who had escaped the searing heat could not flee the smoke, as it bound towards them like ravenous wolves stalking a future kill. Was she the only one left? No, she couldn’t be… no…
Why hadn't the priestesses warned them? Had the Oracle not seen? Had there not been time? Why had none of their holy women been there to save them? Where had they all gone.
She lifted her head from the bitter earth. Snow. It was so hard to see in the darkness, and her numb body hadn't the will to respond, but she could faintly make out the shapes of the flakes as they fell silently around her. A shudder; as it fell around her, like the bodies of the men and women she had known all her life.
The only light her eyes could find was the sharp red glow of embers, lighting the world enough to show it was made of only blood, snow, and ashes.
With a jolt, she felt a presence behind her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She tensed, then watched the Oracle ghost above her through the wreckage, her soft white flowing dress fluttering in the wind, her pale ivory skin glowing softly. Tears fell from the woman's closed eyes.
"Help! Please! Help me Great One!" she cried hoarsely from the ground, but the Oracle passed her by, fading into the darkness. Perhaps she was going mad with the cold.
A woman in thick, hooded, red robes appeared in the now dead woods beside her. The priestesses were here; they would save us. There had to be more than just her alive. There had to be. Surveying the world around her, she saw the other priestesses over the bodies of the dead, checking for signs of life. She would live. The priestesses meant safety, home, love.
The woman carefully flipped her over onto her back. It hurt, but she could not be carried to safety with her face to the earth.
"Help me," she whispered to the woman above her, "please; save us…"
The priestess kneeled down to the ground beside her, and she could see that it was her mother in the robes. Closing her eyes she felt the comfort of the woman's presence wash over her like a blanket, trickling down her entire body. No, was that water? It was freezing, chilling her to the bone.
"Mother? What are you doing?" she asked with worry, her eyes snapping back open. She was so cold she could no longer even shiver - with neither chill nor terror.
"Forgive us," the priestess said quietly, then drew a dagger from its sheath at her side. No, that was her ceremonial dagger, she could not cut anything with it. What was going on?
"No, wait!" she screamed, but her words were cut short with a sputtering gurgle, as the blood slid down her neck and her vocal cords were slit through. Her body convulsed, eyes wide with terror and realization, before they unfocused and were left staring at the carnage they had only just understood.
The woman wiped her blade on the snow, then dried it with her robe, standing. As she looked to the sky and sheathed it, her hood fell back. "Forgive us, Great Mother. Forgive us." Then she walked away into the pitch black char of the forest, and staring eyes looked unseeing at the same empty sky. They were alone.
It's all so vivid in her mind; playing like a mildewed slideshow on her mental projector screen. First the fire; blinding, bright, unyielding fire. She can still feel the echoes of shattered screams, splintering through her ears as the forest cracked around her, falling to the element's immeasurable power.
Why. What had they done to deserve this terror? Were they ever the slightest bit unfaithful? Did they ever forget Her name? Her gifts?
The flames had come at them like buzzards, swooping down on their doomed prey - some of it already dead, and the rest slowly dying. Even those who had escaped the searing heat could not flee the smoke, as it bound towards them like ravenous wolves stalking a future kill. Was she the only one left? No, she couldn’t be… no…
Why hadn't the priestesses warned them? Had the Oracle not seen? Had there not been time? Why had none of their holy women been there to save them? Where had they all gone.
She lifted her head from the bitter earth. Snow. It was so hard to see in the darkness, and her numb body hadn't the will to respond, but she could faintly make out the shapes of the flakes as they fell silently around her. A shudder; as it fell around her, like the bodies of the men and women she had known all her life.
The only light her eyes could find was the sharp red glow of embers, lighting the world enough to show it was made of only blood, snow, and ashes.
With a jolt, she felt a presence behind her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She tensed, then watched the Oracle ghost above her through the wreckage, her soft white flowing dress fluttering in the wind, her pale ivory skin glowing softly. Tears fell from the woman's closed eyes.
"Help! Please! Help me Great One!" she cried hoarsely from the ground, but the Oracle passed her by, fading into the darkness. Perhaps she was going mad with the cold.
A woman in thick, hooded, red robes appeared in the now dead woods beside her. The priestesses were here; they would save us. There had to be more than just her alive. There had to be. Surveying the world around her, she saw the other priestesses over the bodies of the dead, checking for signs of life. She would live. The priestesses meant safety, home, love.
The woman carefully flipped her over onto her back. It hurt, but she could not be carried to safety with her face to the earth.
"Help me," she whispered to the woman above her, "please; save us…"
The priestess kneeled down to the ground beside her, and she could see that it was her mother in the robes. Closing her eyes she felt the comfort of the woman's presence wash over her like a blanket, trickling down her entire body. No, was that water? It was freezing, chilling her to the bone.
"Mother? What are you doing?" she asked with worry, her eyes snapping back open. She was so cold she could no longer even shiver - with neither chill nor terror.
"Forgive us," the priestess said quietly, then drew a dagger from its sheath at her side. No, that was her ceremonial dagger, she could not cut anything with it. What was going on?
"No, wait!" she screamed, but her words were cut short with a sputtering gurgle, as the blood slid down her neck and her vocal cords were slit through. Her body convulsed, eyes wide with terror and realization, before they unfocused and were left staring at the carnage they had only just understood.
The woman wiped her blade on the snow, then dried it with her robe, standing. As she looked to the sky and sheathed it, her hood fell back. "Forgive us, Great Mother. Forgive us." Then she walked away into the pitch black char of the forest, and staring eyes looked unseeing at the same empty sky. They were alone.