Perpendicular: Silence

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Perpendicular: Silence Empty Perpendicular: Silence

Post  AzzarianThunda on Wed Jan 04, 2012 6:46 pm

A musty old run down fortress. The walls have begun to crumble, and because of that, the roof was beginning to fall in. This was not a safe place, not one bit. But it was safer than most places around here. And it was her home.
She was beautiful in the way uncut stone is to jewelers. Her hair was wild, from many years of being unattended. She and her dress were covered with grime and filth. The dress was her only clothing, of a murky tan color. It used to be white before: she remembered. She always remembered.
She had gathered her food for the day, and the sun was setting. The cold stones of the floor always startled her after walking through the grass and dirt. She always tried to step on the little grassy patches that were fighting their way into the world, trying desperately to live. She never understood why people made these cold, hard floors to begin with. If it wasn't for them, she wouldn't have to stay in this place. But it offered her protection from the elements, and other people like bandits. The old fortress was supposedly haunted. She was never sure by what though. She had heard them talk of many different tales of this place. The ghost of a noblewoman, a powerful, feral witch... Those seemed the most common. She smiled. She had lived here her whole life, and never ran into either. She kept smiling as she ate her dinner, a handful of wild berries. When night fell, she listened to the songs of the insects as she fell asleep in her special room. She then felt sad. It would be winter soon, and all the insects would leave or die. Last winter was hard. A blizzard had snowed her in for 2 days before she managed to break free. She had almost died. Since then, she had moved the food that wouldn't spoil into her room, just in case that happened again. She dreamt of that horrible day, 4379 turns of the sun ago. All of that blood... the fires... the screams...
She woke up the next day. She wished those dreams would stop haunting her, but she remembered. She always remembered. She waited for the tear to roll down her cheek, and let it fall. she got up, and without drying the tear, began to harvest again. She picked some fruit today, knowing they were ripe now. She had to climb the tree to get them though, and was very careful not to scrape herself. Then she heard something. Horses, at a gallop. only a few, so not a stampede... Men. They came near the fortress, and dismounted. They were looking at the ground for tracks. Then she realized they were her tracks. Slave takers. They remounted, and galloped toward her. She hoped they wouldn't see her in the tree, but she new that was a false hope. They slowed when they came to the tree. One of the men looked right at her, and smiled an evil smile. She leapt from the tree, onto him and his horse, slamming her fist into his head. The man's skull caved in, and she broke her hand. It was worth it though. she now had his horse. She took the reigns in her good hand, and spurred the horse on, the other men quickly following. She turned the horse around the tree, and back towards the fortress, past the other men, reaching out to grab her. They missed, and also turned around the tree, right behind her. The men had armor and weapons, and were heavier than her, so she was losing them, even if it was slowly. If she made it to her special room, they wouldn't be able to find her. She led the horse by the fortress, not even slowing down, and jumped off. She was moving too fast, so she started to fall forward. She put her good arm up, and tucked her head. She rolled over once, twice, thrice, before her feet could keep up, and she kept running. The stones had scraped her arm up, but that wasn't important to her now. She ran forward, looking back to see the men off their horses and chasing on foot. Now they were catching up, but they had lost time dismounting. She got to her room and hit the brick. The men were chasing still, gaining. she slipped in as soon as it was big enough to fit her, and she hit the brick on the other side. The secret door started closing again, but the men were catching up. The man who got there first stuck his hand in, hoping to stop the door from closing. He reached for her, trying to grab her through the crack, but the door kept closing on him. His bones cracked, and his arm went squish, and his hand fell off as the girl watched. The man screamed and screamed, as the blood burst from his severed arm, splattering on the girl. Her eyes were wide, her heart beating faster than the galloping horse, and she slumped against the wall. Too close, she thought. She was going to have to leave her home. But then she heard a slap on the stones. The men knew there was a way to open this door, and that it was one of the bricks. There were only so many bricks in that wall, it wouldn't be long before they found it and got her. Then she heard it activate, and she immediately hit the one on her side. They hit it again, and she hit hers again. Whoever was hitting the brick had a faster reaction time than her, because the door was slowly opening. She knew she couldn't win anymore. But she didn't want to be a slave. She had seen that once, the women wailing as the men hurt them. She could fight them, but her hand was broken. No, this was it. She had promised herself to live, and face life with dignity, so she backed up and sat against the far wall, holding her legs. The men barged in, and when they saw her, slowed down, and looked at her. She saw where they were looking, and the lust in their eyes, and held herself tighter. The men laughed. She prepared herself for the pain. But then the man furthest back fell to the floor, bleeding from a wound in his chest. The other men turned, and saw a beautiful woman with a sword drawn. Those that were left smirked at their luck. But then they looked at her eyes, and began to panic. She charged forward, slicing through the next man's neck. She parried a slash from the nearest living man, stabbed him in the heart, then kicked him off her sword. Only one man left. He threw a knife at her, and she caught it with her free hand, and threw it back at him, right into his eye. She then put him out of his misery. The girl looked at her savior in awe. The woman smiled, then ran off. That was her mother, she knew it.
Because she remembered, she always remembered.

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