Fan Fiction ❯ Storms ❯ Storms ( One-Shot )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Storms

Rejected_Requisite

Original Fiction

“It seems like these storms have been brewin' for ages.” The elderly man grunted as he pulled out his lead pipe. Pulling it to his dry lips, a puff of smoky air released began to linger.

A simplistic woman stood in the brisk air, long locks of cappuccino tossing with the rising breezes as she hung her linens. From the wavering tuft of hair pulling gently against her scalp, she had a feeling that something was beginning.

“Lady Ria, why is it that you would pick to visit your estate in such unruly weather?” The woman gracefully pulled herself from the carriage, giving the noisy servant a cold look. “Foolish, what right do you have to question my ideals?” she answered sharply, as she signaled with her hand toward the seemingly empty carriage. “Come Ceira, let us enter quickly.” The lady waited as a small voice replied. “Yes.” Without haste, a pale young girl emerged from the shadows.

“What did you say?! The Lady has decided to visit a town as small as ours?” The young boy stood dumbfounded as the street clerk sighed. “Quiet down. It's only a lingering rumor.” The boy frowned. “Come now! Nothing this exciting has ever happened here before! How could I dream of keeping this news a secret?!” the boy continued in enthusiasm.

“Boy, I'd advise you to not believe everything you hear.” The trimmed woman stated, as the boy immediately went silent. “Lady Ria! Lady Ria! What are you doing interacting with the commoners?” the guards from the estate crowded into position around the woman. “I thought it would be best to inform them of my arrival directly. Besides, I have business to attend.” She replied, as the young girl appeared from the formation. Coal black hair contrasted with the piercing gray eyes that bore into the boy. A long elegant white dress fell from her shoulders, but even with a step forward across the dusty ground, the bottom would never tarnish.

The lady and her guards continued to walk down the dusty inner streets of the village. As they continued, the girl was turned astray. With a flash of her eyes, she turned away from the silenced boy to a small path leading into an open garden. Ivy hung from every edge of the wall that the eye could see. Slowly maneuvering through the thin corridors, she finally reached the garden. A memory flashed to the back of her mind. A small child smiled to her mother as she tended the blooming flowers. A quick release brought her back to reality, as the rain began to pour from the blackened sky. Taking another step, memories began to fill her mind. The child's first day in the village school, the day that she fell into a large puddle of water and caught pneumonia from the cold. The girl reached out for more, as the last memory was given as her pale hand touched the willow tree at the edge of the path.

The lights of the elderly man's house began to dim as lightning continued to strike. “My lady, not all secrets are to be revealed.” The man leaned back in his chair to blow another cloud of gray into the air. “Do not deny me, Colonel. This town is damned and needs to be lifted from its earliest torments. How can you continue to keep everything from these people?!” the woman stopped and regained her composure as the man pulled the pipe from his lips. “Please, my lady, I have retired.” he began. “Excuse my tone, but I see no further need for correction. This town is made up of nothing but the people who work for everything they own. If I was to tell them the truths of the past, it would only create the earlier chaos that we once silenced.”

The girl stepped back, fingers trembling. Falling to her knees, tears streaked her pale face as the rain washed them away. “My mind… is returning.” She whispered. An aura began to encircle the girl's body as she wept over the grave.

A fire blazed brightly in the darkness of the storm. Burning away at the tough fabric that covered a merchant's stand, the fire began to engulf more of the surrounding homes and shops as the people panicked. The lightning and thunder became more intense, but the young boy did not move from where they had been mere seconds ago.

“William! William!” a young mother called out to the boy who stood staring at the ivy. The fire should have been burning it, but instead, it left an open path, not even scorching a leaf. “William, we must leave! This fire has become too much to handle!” the mother pleaded as she reached for the boy's arm, but it was too late. The boy had run into the ivy corridor.

“Why are you waiting?” the thin woman questioned the man who was sitting across from him. “I have a feeling that the truth will be revealed.” He answered, as he took another puff from his pipe. Coughing, he tilted his head back. “A storm this great could tell a powerful story, don't you think?” he asked, as the lighting reflected across the walls of the room.

“This child returned from nowhere. A devil child, it seemed.” The villager began to tell the story to the encircled children sitting on the ashy ground.“Only a few years after the war, a child looking not much older than thirteen appeared at the edge of the fields. It was a brisk day at start, but when she arrived, the clouds began to darken with an unrequited hate.The rain began to pour heavily against the dry ground, until it seemed that the town could no longer retain any more. A beautiful woman by the name of Elsa called the girl into her small abode. Attempting to dry the soaking girl, the woman asked for the girl to slip from her clothing. At the request, the girl began to slip her white dress from the shoulder, only to reveal a sight that could never be captured. Elsa was found lying across her hardwood floor, pronounced of an unknown cause of death.

Not long after, the young girl was spotted numerous times. The villagers would follow the girl with knives, guns, fire, and pitchforks, but never could they penetrate her presence. Many men were hit in reflection to their own weapon. From that point, the people kept their distance from the mysterious girl. Even as they shunned her, she continued to roam the region, seeming to be searching for something she could never find.

The war against the eastern region began soon after, and it seemed the girl had disappeared. The count of men killed continued to rise, and the village was becoming a dangerous place to reside. The people continued to believe they were living peacefully, but with even the women gone, the population continued to decrease until the last few families moved on. By the time the war ended, and the proud few returned home, there was no one left to congratulate their victory. Having to begin from scratch, they thought that the village could be rebuilt into a better place to live life. Only one presence could change their mind.”

The boy ran through the corridor, knowing every leaf and every branch that surrounded him. The air was pure, and the rain was warm, but only moments ago had the feeling been different. Ashes crinkling as bright sparks sprinkled in the moonlit sky. The sounds of anger, worry, and fear. Nearby houses slowly being engulfed from the anguish of a stray flame. The storm was unforgiving, the clouds releasing the bolts of destruction from god's wrath. Only one corridor left unturned by the anguish of the northern skies.

“The girl had only returned for the purpose of finding what she had desired.” The villager continued, sitting back on a wooden box. “No matter how many attempts were taken to kill her, she would never die. Every day, she'd walk across the vast hillsides searching, never tiring, and never aging a day. Some said that she had arrived from the heavens to find an unrequited love, but many believed that she was a witch who had arrived out of her own free will.”

The boy ran through the remaining pathway, breathing heavily against the smoky air that was following him. Every step he took, the ivy from behind began to burn with the following flames. The white aura that protected the corridor was beginning to unravel. At the edge of the pathway, the boy ceased, his heart skipping a beat. The girl from earlier sat on the damp ground, a white glow surrounding her skin. Knees buckled, she let her head fall to her chest as the tears continued to fall. Sitting in silent torment, every sob and words she ever wanted to speak became a whisper.

“The girl was the exact replica of a child who died a tragic death. Raised in the earlier times, she grew up with only her mother, since her father contracted polio only a few months after she was born. Her mother was a beautiful woman, but after she married and had a child, even as a widow she could not earn her keep in the village. The wealthy men agreed to pay off her husband's debt if she was to sleep with them, but because she could never forget her husband, she would never give the men what they desired. For a while, they continued to pile up her debt without letting the others know. Even the child of the mother was unaware to her mother's troubles. At the age of thirteen, a wealthy man requested of the child to be married to his older son. This son was very tactful, but was also very violent and abusive man. The father agreed to pay off the mother's debts in exchange for the child, but the mother did not allow it. Only the following day was the child's mother found dead, hung from a tree at the edge of her flower garden.

The father arranged the marriage for the child and his son only a day after the mother's death. Miserable, the child began to wallow away, as the son raped and beat her until she could hardly stand. Unable to continue, the child escaped from the son. The clouds were heavy, and the rain flooded the dry fields where the summer crops laid. Taking the only possession that she had left of her mother's, she laid out the elegant white dress across the damp ground that once produced the magnificent flowers that they tended to. Pulling her tattered clothes from her body, every muscle ached with the tension, the grief that she had never been able to release. Slipping into the dress, she took the knife that once punctured her mother's flesh and slit her own. Lying across the flooded ground, she died as the most powerful roll of thunder crashed across the hillside.”

The boy stood back watching the girl in shock as she fell to the ground. Running to catch her, he rolled her body to the side, only to hold his breath. The girl's once cloudy, empty eyes, were beginning to take hue. Every scar across her body revealed, small streams of scarlet running from them. The thunder cracked across the sky, barriers of no end at the brink. The flames that were climbing above the peak of every leaf began to die, as the greatest storm had finally reached its peak.

“The person who sees the scars of the child will never wake up from the terror. As long as the child continues to roam the hillsides in search for the truth, the village will never grow or flourish. The plants will always die, and the storms, the storms will never lie.”

The elderly man put his pipe in its rest, releasing himself from the chair. “Now Lady Ria, do you believe that the truth has been revealed?” the man questioned, as he reached for the open window. The rain began to soften, and the pattering against the roof returned to a solemn pace. The rising sun surfaced above the blackened clouds, as the darkness faded to light.

The boy watched as the girl awoke, eyes darting towards the open sky. Ash covered every inch of the surrounding ground, but still she and the boy stayed untouched. “Please let me go.” she whispered to the boy, as she released her from the place where she laid on his lap. His hands were drenched in her blood, but he didn't seem to notice. The girl pulled herself up slowly, gathering her white dress. The scars and blood faded from her body, and she returned to her original image. Walking off into the distance, the boy ran after her.

“Wait! Where are you going?” the boy yelled across the empty fields. The girl stopped abruptly. “You are so noisy. Come here if you must.” Her reply excited the boy. He wanted to know more about this mysterious person, and he wasn't in the least afraid to do so.

Slowing his pace, he finally reached the girl. Turning to face him, she set her hand on his cheek, pulling him into a soft kiss. Surprised, the boy suddenly heard a voice echo from the back of his mind. “My time has ended here.” The whispering voice told him. “What do you mean?” he thought in remorse. “Be quiet and sleep.” The voice said abruptly, as the boy's mind darkened.

Every memory of the incident, the wars, and every moment rushed through his mind. He could see everything from her eyes. The years passing of death and murder, the day when she was taken in by Lady Ria in exchange to stop causing a ruckus throughout the region. She wasn't a legend, a witch, or a lover's spirit, she was an awakened shell who returned only to be set at peace.

The boy's mind faded back to dark, and he opened his eyes once more. He was alone, lying in a white bed. “Ceira!” he called out for the girl, but she had been long gone. “Was everything just a dream?” he thought, as he lifted the white sheets from his body.

“William! William! Are you finally awake?” a girl threw open the wooden door parallel to the bed. Running in, she grabbed the edge of the bed, sobbing. “Mother's been so worried for these last five years! How could you leave us like that?!” the girl's pigtails wiggled as she threw up her head. “We thought you were dead! How cruel you are, brother!” she finished, bowing her head. “Kay? You are saying that it has been five years?” the boy asked. The door opened again to release a mother and two more siblings. “William! You have finally awoken!” the older boy said, stepping in to let the others through. “One more month, and the doctors said they'd pronounce you dead! You're a lucky one!” the older boy continued, as William pulled himself into a sitting position.

“Be quiet.” William demanded as the room went silent. “I would like to understand what I have missed.” The mother sat on the edge of the white sheets, stroking the fibers. “William, you have been in a coma for five years. After the storm, you were found lying at the edge of the river.” She began, as the others gathered around her.

“Damn it, why of all times did the worst storm in history have to arrive?” The two men walking across the ashy and deserted meadows continued to search for life. “They've had plenty of legends about this kind of stuff, but to be serious, I don't know what this storm was after.” One continued, as they stopped in front of the ivy corridor. “What the- how can this be?”

Looking down the brick walls of the corridor, the ivy barely burned at the edges, laid a figure barely noticeable by the fog next to running waters. The two men ran down the corridor, stopping in front of the figure, lying on its back across the rocky meadow. Looking closer, the figure was a young man. His hands were covered in dried blood, and his body was still, seemingly rapped in a hue of white. “Must be the fog.” The man muttered as he helped his accomplice carry the body back through the corridor.

“How bothersome. She made such a mess.” The Lady scanned the hillsides from the open window of her castle. “May I surmise that you are now satisfied, my lady?” The elderly man opened the door a crack, as if to tempt his entrance. “Do not suspect something so meaningful. There is still much to be accomplished.” She retorted, as she turned to face him. “Is that so?” he questioned, looking out into the vast horizon.

William closed the door from behind him. At the current age of nineteen, he wondered still what life had renewed while he was reliving the past. Walking down the growing streets, he saw the survivors of his village, old and young, begin to rebuild what they had lost. Continuing to follow the paths, he caught a glimpse of the hidden corridor. The ivy hanging from the edges of the brick walls still flourished. Taking a glimpse inside, his mind repeated the scene in his mind. The small of ashes, flames burning all around him. The ivy was protected from the white aura that surrounded the corridor. Running, as if there was no hope left, he mimicked the actions from years before. Brushing away the stray leaves that fell in his way, he finally came upon the garden. It had changed slightly, the water from the river was still trickling down the side of the hill, but the once lush green grass that surrounded it was now replaced by rocks. He returned to the place she'd once kneeled, sobbing into her chest. Looking down, something caught his eye. A group of white flowers barely moved as the faint breezes began to increase.

“As a spider spins their web, there is no basic pattern. The storms however are not guided by something you can see. When the wandering girl finally finds the truth, the storms will die, and all will be well again.”

The villager got up from his stance on the wooded box, as the children slowly left from their places. “William, how can you tell the children such a horrible story?” A woman at the edge of the street yelled in his direction. Picking up her small child, she walked to a place next to him. “William?” the woman questioned, as the man stared wide-eyed at an open window, the curtains swaying from the wind. Those grey eyes peeked from the long black hair that surrounded them. Raindrops began to fall, and the wind gained speed.

“I never said I wouldn't return to visit.”