Story

Survival

Some mornings still felt like the night before; she still waited for the day she didn’t miss it all anymore. But she knew she would have to wait a long time, before all the memories finally bade her good bye. She smiled wanly as the sunlight peering through set her hair aflame; to result in all this she was the only one to blame. The fire in her had long since died; no wonder she collapsed in a heap and cried. She thought again if she was beautiful inside out, but then realised that was the last thing to ponder about. The darkness in her soul made her thoughts trivial and foul; the blackness in her mind giving birth to fresh sorrow inside. It ripped and clashed and destroyed her very being; all she could do was refrain from seeing.

But how could she possibly turn a blind eye when she herself was being freshly dyed; in colours of scarlet and gold, portraying her as injured but shamelessly bold. The wounds wouldn’t heal but her scars shone silver; a constant reminder of how she escaped death by a quiver. She cried out loud then, an inhuman groan; giving Satan the perfect opportunity to happily moan. She shook her head then and whispered faintly; the pain wouldn’t last long she wasn’t its only deity. She allowed the hint of a smile to smudge her face; it was going to be one hell of a race. Between her instincts and hopes she let the competition start; reality and imagination would do their best to tear her apart. But she knew she had to be ready this time; tools of ignorance and self importance set up in prime. Closing her eyes she made one last wish; she wished she could serve vengeance in a cold dish. She began a journey from the end, hoping fortune would this time bend.