The Price of Fire(Cormac-Style Prompt)

The Price of Fire

Cormac-Style Prompt

Part 1 : Rain

         When she woke in the woods by the side of a sodden dirt road she knew not where she was. Where am I? the girl mumbled. But the earth soaked in her query like it did the rain. She picked herself up from the mud and meandered deeper into the forest where none ought see her for her naked visage was too much to love. She hated it deeply. She hoped that the further she traveled the more welcomed she would be. But in truth, there was nothing for her now. Everyone hated her, the animals, too. She scrubbed her eyes with murky hands in order to stop the tears from coming, but she couldn't stop them from surging. She wanted a moment of rest. But the makeshift path had become too slippery, and she found herself sliding down away from it all.

         The river was strong. She fell into it from atop the valley's slope. As the river claimed her, she tried to escape, to cling on to the river's mudbank but it proved impossible. Pulled down with increasing weight, glaring at the figure of her father abandoning her to the waves. The dismal forest was consumed before her like death and she had no choice but to submit to the tides and hope the brier-like stones along the river's edge would not kill her. Every second she drowned, every second she gasped. How she still lived wasn't questioned. The water's chill was pressed against her in a suffocating grasp, and she moved to the maven's strings. Then she passed away into cold, unsettling dreams kept half awake by the rampant waters. Her father's disdainful voice still in her ear.

         In her dream she was hungry and a child cared for her. He was about the same age as she. There was a sense of kindness to be had, but those who think so are disillusioned. The boy leaves and she is killed by an insecure pair while trapped without a sense of light. To those who are immersed in darkness: if death were to shelter you from the rain, would you even notice? Would you even care?

         A beach emerged amidst the torrent, like a great grass-covered hand for those adrift. The taste of grime lingered on the tongue and her body was numb and she wanted to reach solid earth so badly. She struggled to reach it. Upon washing ashore, she coughed, and inhaled for what seemed to be her last and first breathe. She turned and fell onto her back to stare into the expanse of gray clouds that hung above her. Above the world. The sky flashed in random furies, followed by the beat of a mountain god. The sound of water never faded, even when they were pressed against the sound of the sky's drums. To the right, a light flickered in and out of existence. A figure with a black raiment was holding a torch and an umbrella and proceeded towards her. Behind him was a path surrounded by a thicket of weathered trees stark in the light. Farther along was a manse in the distance. Are you going to kill me? the girl said. No. No I won't be. I'm here to help. Yes. Yes, you look absolutely wretched. Here, a hand. the man said. He extinguished the torch and lowered the umbrella before her eyes. He reached out. Why are you helping me? the girl said. Common courtesy, dear, the man said. Let me help you with that. It's cold. Yes, I know. He lifted her up with his free hand and carried her on his shoulder and began walking back towards the manse. Behind them, the waves smashed against the shore and a lone pair of eyes watched the two march through the raw wind-blown path. And then they were gone. The rain never stopped falling.

         Warmth was a feeling never known to her. Those who could have provided it had left her whenever they could because she was the burden that prevented flight. Even then, within the confines of the manse and wrapped in blankets, she held within her breast a mote of ice to be her heart. Impossible to be warmed from without. She lay there in the darkness, immolate in the dense cloth. Like a reclusive suicide. None would come for her. Her strength was like sap to kindle the flame. Slowly, her iconoclastic belief that staying alive was better than death turned to ash, and she rested her head against a pillow waiting for her executioner on her deathbed.

         Hapless fate treads ever forward. By day Time lives out its sordid crucibles in hope for better days. By night his blade flickers in hand, cutting the threads of his tormentors.

         Vision blurred, she came to within a brightly lit room. She was wrapped in fluffy blankets, and beneath her head was a soft pillow. The walls were painted a vanilla white, but possessed a golden hue from the lamplight. On the far end of the room was a door, gray and shut. She discarded the blankets and approached the windows to her side. The world was covered in wetness, but the rain had finally stopped. The sun was rising or setting, and the sky retained an azure blue. Stretches of clouds remained to be places that only the birds of the forest could reach, and the world was lively again. The raindrops that remained on the trees and grasses reflected the sun's cordial brilliance. Like a sheet made of silvery gold. Where am I? the girl mumbled. But she was too taken in by the world's rebirth to have even cared. She pressed her face and hands against the glass, fogging it up. She trembled as she grasped the handles for the window, gently opening them outwards into the radiant gardens below. The fragrant wind plowed in, a refreshing zephyr. Slowly, she lifted her foot on to the sill, and then raised her other beside the first, and with a deep breath, her eyes shut, her nightgown fluttering, she fell from the heavens into Eden.
         At last, at last--I'm home.