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The spilled wine

Short story By: Lola Domni
Fantasy



After a strange dream I decided to write this story based on it. I hope you can decipher the meaning behind the surreality of it all :p


Submitted:May 28, 2014    Reads: 17    Comments: 0    Likes: 1   


She was running towards it and she couldn't stop. She ran with a sense of urgency, but with a distinct serenity. The darkness grew around her. As she looked back, she saw the clouds of them pushing past her, charging towards the others, the scarlets and reds splattering everywhere, staining the weakest souls. She turned back towards her target and carried on running. She had to keep running. She spread her arms outwards to shoulder level as she ran closer. They were outstretched to the furthest point they could be; it made her look as if she could take off and fly.
She collided into him and she screamed with a deafening shrill that pierced through the darkness. The red bruised sky bled a little as she cried.
They slashed at her and they slashed at her but she remained with her arms spread open, her face buried in his chest, and she stood tall, sturdy and strong. She was sacred as the protector she was.

But of course the darkness would take over. It never failed to and she was simply another piece in the game. No, she was a saviour. A saviour.
She released herself, she submitted, she cried. Moving her fingertips with a nurturing grace all over his face, she kissed him sincerely on the forehead. She marked him with the black dirt that stained her thumb, before letting go and walking back towards the house on the hill. They ran and they violently pushed against her. They pushed her out of the way. They pushed her down into the soot in the ground with a savage hate, so close to her own marked grave. All she could hear was the slaughter. She could not look back - even for second. She brushed herself off the ground and kept on walking forward, head held high. The sparks ignited, the embers blazed fiercely behind her, and although the distance from it was far by then, she still felt the scorning on her skin. As his head rolled to the floor, like the ones before him, and the ones to come, she didn't even flinch. The darkness wrapped around her, but she pushed past it, as they had done her, as everything eventually will. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't afraid to fade away. All protectors fade away.
She always knew she was a miniature, insignificant part of a system. Too small to matter, but big enough to cut so many innocent into tiny little pieces.
All protectors fade away. All the sacred fade away. She wasn't afraid to fade away.

She sipped the wine that was left for her; whether it was the holy wine of Christ or Satan's sweet nectar did not seem to matter anymore. She felt every bit of the immeasurable time that went by as she sat in the house on the hill and blocked out the noise of the fires. Instead of listening to the screams of the lost, she concentrated on the steady beating of her heart.
That was her absolution.





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