The sky was purple, maroon and tangerine all at the same time. Clouds were brewing in from the east side at a fast and jovial pace. Thayer stood below them, searching the ground for her lost silver Miza.
I knew I dropped it here somewhere,” she mumbled to herself as sudden leaves started to fall from the clouds above her. She gazed up, confused as to why such dead plants were falling from such an unusual object. Leaves fell from trees during the cold season of autumn, not from clouds during the warm weather Thayer felt kissing her face.
Suddenly as if reading her questioning thoughts, the leaves transformed themselves into large droplets of water. Inside these bulbs of liquid were small green specks that seemed to glow and pulse in rhythm to her beating heart. She watched one fall, noticing it land perfectly onto her missing, but now found, silver Miza. Thayer reached down to grab it when the raindrop starting sprouting thick, black vines that reached up and swallowed Thayer’s hand, consuming it in their strong, aching grasp.
A numbing sensation enveloped her wrist, spreading up the rest of her arm and through her trunk all the way to her toes until she felt high and falsely elated. It felt as though she had been drugged or poisoned with lazy gel, only it tickled her heart and filled her mind with empty, happy thoughts of relaxation. Soon, however, the dark vine started to crawl the rest of the way up her arm, licking her ulna, condemning vital organs and nerve endings along the way to closing in on her heart.
She felt sharp spikes of pain throbbing where once numbness had been. Presently, the vines had entwined themselves between her legs and around her torso, hugging her extremely tight. They twisted around her neck and squeezed her shoulders like a cobra did when it was trying to end it’s prey’s life for food.
The pain was excruciating by now, but a small smile was latched onto the Kelvic’s pale lips. She was accepting of the pain and the ugly truth that she was going to die.
Her peripheral vision was diminishing around the edges. She felt blood dripping down her chin and neck, and knew her ears, nose and mouth were the source of such un-natural fluids.
Time was cut short as the clouds stopped flowing at their jubilant speed and grew malevolent faces. Their mouths were pulled back to such extent that is was as if hooks were holding them in place behind their head. Their eyebrows were drawn down and their teeth were sharp and unwelcoming. Their laughter was maniacal as it’s dark melody sung nightmares into her now hollow skull.
Whispers entered the emptiness of her soul, sending shivers down her fractured spine, snapped from the suffocating grip of the black vines that had wrapped around her waist. The interpretations were muffled, by Thayer could make out some words.
“He hated me and hurt me.”
“He loved you which I was thankful for.”
“He abused and raped your mother and I, Thayer.”
The voice was soft, but recognisable. She could picture his smooth face, his noble, high cheekbones and his small, button nose that twitched when curious, shy or afraid. It was Toril’s voice that soothed her aching heart and thoughtless mind. She could visualize his crystal, Icelandic, blue eyes looking her up and down for injury or any sign of pain; she could make out his curly, black hair that swept in his face by even the gentlest of breeze. But these images, these words were being taken away by a dark figure, a looming silhouette shrouded by black fog and disease. It was her father and the words she had heard made her hate him even more now that she knew the truth.
“Hello there sweetie,” he cooed to her through the mask of vines and betrayal that held her grounded. The words he spoke were like needles poking into Thayer’s eyes. Tears brimmed the edges of her eyes, threatening to make themselves known if pushed too far. She didn’t know what to do; should she love him when Toril’s voice spoke of a terrible man? Her confusion was nauseating as her father stepped closer at an alarmingly quick pace.
“I’ve missed you” he sneered closing the rest of the gap between him and her. Should she tell Toril of what is happening if given the chance or keep this encounter all a big secret? Will her father release her from the terror of the vines that confined her?
“I have been worried sick about you, my dear. Has Toril been treating your fairly?” The mock in his voice was horror to her ears. What was to happen next?
Shadows squirmed from behind her father, trailing him in a less than dominant manner. Her father was the leader around here and he wanted it known to all who questioned his authority.
Thayer tried to release herself from the vines’ stunningly manacle-like grip, but she couldn’t budge and now the strange man was standing even closer to her, that she could feel his breath on her lips and eyes boring into hers. His grin was spreading so wide now, that it was spooky and abnormal. His eyes were yellow as if from virus or infection.
Sparing her the simple, quick death, he rummaged through his satanic mind for a more classic tactic. Settling for a slow, yet painful departure, he invited the shadows closer to his daughter, whom still struggled for safety or the freedom to move as she wished.
Air did not meet the Kelvic girl’s lungs for the longest time before she managed to realise that she was indeed choking. Thayer heaved up blood and bile, but oxygen was defiant on entering her windpipe. She coughed for air, but her father merely laughed at her every whim, a laugh so short and bellowing that it resembled more of a bark than not.
Images of her father and her when Thayer was younger flashed subconsciously through her near blank mind. Toril came into view when he was a young child as well, but her mother she couldn’t capture. She could hear her voice in her heart, but the facial recognition was blurry and dull.
Thayer continued to cough and heave, begging and pleading for air, but none would come.
“Sleep tight,” her father growled, his smile a frown of anguish and defeat rather than or pleasure and success. Thayer wondered why her father could be so cruel. She wondered why her mother or her brother hadn’t tried to stop his acts of abuse. She was confused on the thought that she was loved by her father, yet her mother nor her brother weren’t. Was it because she was younger? Was it because she was a young female and her mother had been outgrown? All of these unanswered questions made Thayer’s head throb. It was either that or the vines that tried to decapitate her or sever her into two.
“Sleep tight,” her father seethed once more as a blanket of darkness was cast upon her.
Thayer’s eyes fluttered open, finding that she was indeed still alive and breathing, laying on a sleeping mat, with a blanket thrown over her body, covering the wound she still felt throbbing on her shoulder.
Toril had been applying medicine and plants as well as washing out the injury with water ever since yesterday. She admired her brother, but with his words still in her mind, she couldn’t be sure to see him as the same, whether he took care of her or not.
Lavine was talking to Thayer, trying desperately to hide the quiver in her voice.
“I know it will be,” Thayer reassured her friend. Lavine quickly looked up at her with wide eyes, full of disbelief and confusion, but Thayer simply smiled back at her, eyes crinkling to show genuine happiness.
“I think I am strong enough to handle having my wound stitched up.” Thayer toyed with her blanket, using the arm that wasn’t hurt so she wouldn’t irritate it further. She racked her brain, trying to recover the meaning to her nightmare. Was it real, or all a big hoax? Should she tell Toril? Endless questions with only two different ways to go. She was stuck at a fork in the road and she knew which way to go.
“Can you go get Toril?"
I knew I dropped it here somewhere,” she mumbled to herself as sudden leaves started to fall from the clouds above her. She gazed up, confused as to why such dead plants were falling from such an unusual object. Leaves fell from trees during the cold season of autumn, not from clouds during the warm weather Thayer felt kissing her face.
Suddenly as if reading her questioning thoughts, the leaves transformed themselves into large droplets of water. Inside these bulbs of liquid were small green specks that seemed to glow and pulse in rhythm to her beating heart. She watched one fall, noticing it land perfectly onto her missing, but now found, silver Miza. Thayer reached down to grab it when the raindrop starting sprouting thick, black vines that reached up and swallowed Thayer’s hand, consuming it in their strong, aching grasp.
A numbing sensation enveloped her wrist, spreading up the rest of her arm and through her trunk all the way to her toes until she felt high and falsely elated. It felt as though she had been drugged or poisoned with lazy gel, only it tickled her heart and filled her mind with empty, happy thoughts of relaxation. Soon, however, the dark vine started to crawl the rest of the way up her arm, licking her ulna, condemning vital organs and nerve endings along the way to closing in on her heart.
She felt sharp spikes of pain throbbing where once numbness had been. Presently, the vines had entwined themselves between her legs and around her torso, hugging her extremely tight. They twisted around her neck and squeezed her shoulders like a cobra did when it was trying to end it’s prey’s life for food.
The pain was excruciating by now, but a small smile was latched onto the Kelvic’s pale lips. She was accepting of the pain and the ugly truth that she was going to die.
Her peripheral vision was diminishing around the edges. She felt blood dripping down her chin and neck, and knew her ears, nose and mouth were the source of such un-natural fluids.
Time was cut short as the clouds stopped flowing at their jubilant speed and grew malevolent faces. Their mouths were pulled back to such extent that is was as if hooks were holding them in place behind their head. Their eyebrows were drawn down and their teeth were sharp and unwelcoming. Their laughter was maniacal as it’s dark melody sung nightmares into her now hollow skull.
Whispers entered the emptiness of her soul, sending shivers down her fractured spine, snapped from the suffocating grip of the black vines that had wrapped around her waist. The interpretations were muffled, by Thayer could make out some words.
“He hated me and hurt me.”
“He loved you which I was thankful for.”
“He abused and raped your mother and I, Thayer.”
The voice was soft, but recognisable. She could picture his smooth face, his noble, high cheekbones and his small, button nose that twitched when curious, shy or afraid. It was Toril’s voice that soothed her aching heart and thoughtless mind. She could visualize his crystal, Icelandic, blue eyes looking her up and down for injury or any sign of pain; she could make out his curly, black hair that swept in his face by even the gentlest of breeze. But these images, these words were being taken away by a dark figure, a looming silhouette shrouded by black fog and disease. It was her father and the words she had heard made her hate him even more now that she knew the truth.
“Hello there sweetie,” he cooed to her through the mask of vines and betrayal that held her grounded. The words he spoke were like needles poking into Thayer’s eyes. Tears brimmed the edges of her eyes, threatening to make themselves known if pushed too far. She didn’t know what to do; should she love him when Toril’s voice spoke of a terrible man? Her confusion was nauseating as her father stepped closer at an alarmingly quick pace.
“I’ve missed you” he sneered closing the rest of the gap between him and her. Should she tell Toril of what is happening if given the chance or keep this encounter all a big secret? Will her father release her from the terror of the vines that confined her?
“I have been worried sick about you, my dear. Has Toril been treating your fairly?” The mock in his voice was horror to her ears. What was to happen next?
Shadows squirmed from behind her father, trailing him in a less than dominant manner. Her father was the leader around here and he wanted it known to all who questioned his authority.
Thayer tried to release herself from the vines’ stunningly manacle-like grip, but she couldn’t budge and now the strange man was standing even closer to her, that she could feel his breath on her lips and eyes boring into hers. His grin was spreading so wide now, that it was spooky and abnormal. His eyes were yellow as if from virus or infection.
Sparing her the simple, quick death, he rummaged through his satanic mind for a more classic tactic. Settling for a slow, yet painful departure, he invited the shadows closer to his daughter, whom still struggled for safety or the freedom to move as she wished.
Air did not meet the Kelvic girl’s lungs for the longest time before she managed to realise that she was indeed choking. Thayer heaved up blood and bile, but oxygen was defiant on entering her windpipe. She coughed for air, but her father merely laughed at her every whim, a laugh so short and bellowing that it resembled more of a bark than not.
Images of her father and her when Thayer was younger flashed subconsciously through her near blank mind. Toril came into view when he was a young child as well, but her mother she couldn’t capture. She could hear her voice in her heart, but the facial recognition was blurry and dull.
Thayer continued to cough and heave, begging and pleading for air, but none would come.
“Sleep tight,” her father growled, his smile a frown of anguish and defeat rather than or pleasure and success. Thayer wondered why her father could be so cruel. She wondered why her mother or her brother hadn’t tried to stop his acts of abuse. She was confused on the thought that she was loved by her father, yet her mother nor her brother weren’t. Was it because she was younger? Was it because she was a young female and her mother had been outgrown? All of these unanswered questions made Thayer’s head throb. It was either that or the vines that tried to decapitate her or sever her into two.
“Sleep tight,” her father seethed once more as a blanket of darkness was cast upon her.
Thayer’s eyes fluttered open, finding that she was indeed still alive and breathing, laying on a sleeping mat, with a blanket thrown over her body, covering the wound she still felt throbbing on her shoulder.
Toril had been applying medicine and plants as well as washing out the injury with water ever since yesterday. She admired her brother, but with his words still in her mind, she couldn’t be sure to see him as the same, whether he took care of her or not.
Lavine was talking to Thayer, trying desperately to hide the quiver in her voice.
“I know it will be,” Thayer reassured her friend. Lavine quickly looked up at her with wide eyes, full of disbelief and confusion, but Thayer simply smiled back at her, eyes crinkling to show genuine happiness.
“I think I am strong enough to handle having my wound stitched up.” Thayer toyed with her blanket, using the arm that wasn’t hurt so she wouldn’t irritate it further. She racked her brain, trying to recover the meaning to her nightmare. Was it real, or all a big hoax? Should she tell Toril? Endless questions with only two different ways to go. She was stuck at a fork in the road and she knew which way to go.
“Can you go get Toril?"
