Fading Light

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A runaway lies hidden in a windmill.

Submitted: July 06, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 06, 2017



The steady whoosh of the windmill’s blades outside buzz through the air in a steady rhythm. I count my breaths with each one. 

Whoosh. One.

Whoosh. Two.

I wonder what is happening now that I’ve run. I wonder if they’re still alive, but more importantly, I wonder if he’s still alive.

Whoosh. Three.

Whoosh. Four.

Last night seems surreal with the day between it and me. Yet, I can close my eyes and listen to Rheta’s last scream. Still see her gray eyes widening as a red blot flourished on the front of her dress like an ugly blooming flower. I can picture her small body crumpling to the ground like a marionette cut from its strings.

Whoosh. Five.

Whoosh. Six.

Breathe, I remind myself. Breathe and don’t think. Unfortunately, there’s not much else to do in the dark recess of the old windmill I’ve been in since early this morning. It hurts to think of the chaos, the chaos that was all my fault. But it hurts worse to think of him.

I give my head a vigorous shake like that will knock the thoughts out of my head. Too bad thoughts cling harder than that.

Whoosh. Seven.

Whoosh. Eight.

Once they’ve cleared up my mess, will he worry about me, or will he just be disappointed? The last words he said to me echo in my mind.

“I have to end this, Cass.” He’d said running a hand through his dark hair like he always did when he was stressed.

“Why?” I’d demanded.

I wish I wasn’t so selfish now.

“Because I have responsibilities. Because I have to learn how to run a kingdom. Because you…” he trailed off.

“Because I’m not marriage material for a future king.” I finished.

I wish I hadn’t been so callous.

“I’m sorry, Cass.” He looked so despondent at the time that I’d had to give in.

I wish I hadn’t given up so easily.

Whoosh. Nine.

Whoosh. Ten.

The chaos had come later. Dozens were dead, lying on the ground with glassy, staring eyes and cold skin. Little Rheta, friendly Peria, quiet Marys, all dead because of a mistake I made.

Whoosh. Eleven.

Whoosh. Twelve.

I’d run when he’d told me to even if every fiber of my being rebelled against running like a coward. I’d make it worse for him by staying, I knew that deep down. So long as I stayed in the shadows, he could sweep my mess away. He’d marry Ofelia and have the picturesque royal family the court expected. He’d never have to think about me again.

Whoosh. Thirteen.

Whoosh. Fourteen.

I blinked back tears that burned the corners of my eyes. I didn’t want him to forget me. I didn’t want to think that the burning, tearing pain in my chest could be one sided.

Whoosh. Fifteen.

Whoosh. Sixteen.

I wish I’d stumbled upon a time machine instead of a windmill. Then, I could have gone back and fixed it all. 

Whoosh. Seventeen.

Whoosh. Eighteen.

The light’s fading in the cracks between the wooden walls. I’ll be able to get moving soon. Maybe tomorrow I can find a better place with less room for turbulent thoughts stirred like the air around the windmill’s blades.

Whoosh. Nineteen.

Whoosh. Twenty. 

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