Chases and Chickens (Afina I) (796 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.95 on 22 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by helbling (View user info) at 2005-12-28 15:07:46 EST
The wooden bar holding up the tarpaulin of our wagon knocks my shoulder again, deepening the bruise that has already formed, as we pass yet another pot-hole. Beside me, Jel sobs quietly, huddled over the bracelet that she has managed to weave out of Mattie's hair.
I feel numb, dead, unable to move, unable to wake from what must be a dream, for all I know that no dreams hurt like I am hurting now, and no dream lasts three weeks, no matter how time may fly.
And my time is not flying, it is crawling. Slow, dejected, defeated, it, whimpering, crawls.
Just when I thought I'd gotten used to it, the metallic smell in my nostrils breaks over me in a wave, making me struggle not to retch. That the smell is so strong is unsurprising - there is blood everywhere.
It soaks my skirt and my blouse so heavily both garments are now stained close to black, and are alternatively stiff and sticky with the liquid. Swirls and smudges of crusted brown are all over my arms, my bare feet and legs, smeared over my cheeks from where it splattered, and spread when I wiped the tears away. Most of it on my blouse is Mikal's, and the rest is Mattie, I think, but I'm no longer sure - they'll have gotten smeared together in the weeks of travel.
Human's don't die the same way other creatures do - even the blood looks different, pouring in great dark gouts and spurts, almost as if it carries with it the knowledge that you've killed an irreplaceable being, a sentient one that you could have reasoned with, that in different circumstances you might have liked, loved.
But these people don't think like that.
They put them down like we used to put down chickens before a feast, but people don't die like chickens. Chickens don't scream, or plead, or crouch on front of their children, begging for mercy. Chickens don't even comprehend what's happening, so stupid are they that their bodies keep flapping in denial even after they have no heads left to think with. People though, people are utterly still once they leave this life, an unearthly stillness that you never see until you know the comparison between before the moment of death and after it.
They cried too, all of them. Chickens don't - they remain oblivious even as you put their heads on the chopping block, but everyone human, children, women, even grown men who've seen more battle then I could imagine, sobbed out their hopes and their fears, leave their hates and grieve for their loves as they approached that final moment.
I saw my mother's last moments from where I hid behind the tree-line. I saw that even as the bandit that had run her through stood over her, even as her heart stopped, she reached one last time for my father as he fell. They spent a lifetime together, and yet she still mourned that they couldn't spend that one final moment together. I am sure she wept, although I was not close enough to see it.
My sorrow, and the pain I feel at their absence makes my heart bleed, even as the hatred I feel for the bandits who slaughtered my family turns it to stone. So this is how you draw blood from a rock.
We ran then, Mikal, Jel, Mattie and I. We stayed to watch our families fall, to know that there was nothing we could do to help, and then we fled through the trees. We took unfamiliar paths, thinking that our regular and habitual ways would be too obvious, too noticeable to those who would come after us. Foolish! How foolish we were! Only now, nearly a month after the event, do I realise that the routes our eyes were so accustomed to picking out were near-incomprehensible for the bandits, and that they would have moved over then at the same speed as they did over the way we took.
We were still faster, although not by much - you cannot grow up in a forest without learning some of its secrets, without learning how it whispers, just a little, and we are, we were, young enough, all four of us, to have remaining some of the unnatural fleetness of foot that all children seem to possess and grow out of.
We flew, with no heed to whether we would need to catch our breath. Foolish once more. No matter how many leisurely days you have spent gallivanting around a forest, you are never sufficiently prepared for a race for your life across unfamiliar ground, with unknown roots and burrows tricking your feet and twisting your ankles. We started to pant after barely a quart-hour. After one hour, we were gasping with desperate breaths that grasped at the air, and we could hear the occasional clank of armour, the creak of leather behind us, filtered through the trees. The closeness of the source of our terror urged us onward.
We should have slowed then. We should have realised that was the point to change direction, to climb, to try and make them lose our trail. Instead we merely tried to run faster, a pitiful effort that was in vain.
Mikal - ah Mikal! How I will miss your sweet smile! - my brother, I can see before my eyes even now in this dusty twilight, the moment before he fell. Flying through the forest, he looked back, wide green eyes, a mirror of my own Da would say, narrowed with terror, frozen to an icy emerald of grief and fear, his russet hair shining with strands of hidden gold, the freckles dusted across his nose all but forgotten as a beam of sunlight struck his skin, turning it tawny. The beauty of it twists my heart, more so now to know that I will never see him again.
He had run with us so well, for all he was but half my years and heavily frightened and confused, spared the slaughter only because Rold, our eldest brother, had shoved him into my arms as he hustled us girls out of the steading when it became apparent that the wall had been breached. He was as fast as any of us, and quieter than both Jel and Mattie, but then, in that one moment when he was watching the enemy and not his feet, he fell.
A spare root, a dip, a rabbit bolt, I never saw what caused it, and whatever god rolled his fate on that day I curse now with every ounce of my being, but I saw him pitch forward, saw his arms flail at empty air, before he slid down the slope at the top of which we'd been running. There was a sickening, dull sound of an impact as his head collided with a protruding rock, and he continued to flop down, unconscious, his limbs free and uncontrolled like a rag doll that has been allowed to fall from a stone wall, or off a kitchen table. There was a low crack as his right arm bent at an angle it shouldn't have done, and his body gave a strange lurch that had nothing to do with the fall as it slid to a stop at the bottom of the slope. I couldn't hold my voice, a fact I curse now, for I am quite sure it made our situation worse.
"Mikal!" I slid down the slope after him, Jel and Mattie following. We reached him and shook him, but he wouldn't wake. Behind us we could hear twigs snapping in a way that they do when they are stepped on by heavy leather boots.
"We'll carry him," I snapped at the other two, who, pale-faced and terrified, nodded their agreement. Jel and I formed a cradle between our hands and Mattie placed him on it, and we hurried along, picking our way as best we could.
It is far from easy to carry another person when they are unconscious, even if that person is an eight year old boy and you are nearly grown. Carrying another person when they are unconscious and you are hurrying and nearly blind from fear is well-nigh impossible. We managed less than ten minutes before they appeared in a ring around us.
One of them stepped forward, gave an inquisitive grunt and plucked Mikal from our arms as easily as you'd pick up a new-born pup from its littermates.
"Mikal!" I cried, lunging after him. One of the others grabbed me by the wrists and held me back; I tried to struggle, to scratch and twist, but his grip was like cold iron, his hands encased in thick leather gloves. Two others grabbed Jel and Mattie, and held them in similar grips.
"They'll do for the Guild," grunted the one that held Mikal, who was peering into his face with interest, "but this one, while pretty..."
"Too old to be broken in, too young to work," snapped the one holding me.
"And with a broken arm, agreed," said the first, and casual as you like, but fast enough so that I couldn't understand what was happening, he drew his dagger and slit his throat.
"No!" I shrieked, struggling even more. I could hear cries from Jel and Mattie, but I still couldn't get free. Unthinkingly, I kicked my holder in the one place that my brothers had always told me I should never hit a man, and scrabbled free as he doubled over with a grunt of pain.
I threw myself across the circle of men and onto Mikal from where the man had dropped him like so much unwanted rubbish. Blood, blood of every shade of red possible it seemed, was flooding out of the hole in his neck and onto the ground. I tried to put my hands over the cut to stop the flow, but it just caused it to splatter everywhere; over my clothing and his, over his face too, blending in with the freckles that we'd practised our numbers on, that now stood out on his skin like ink drops on parchment as the colour drained from his face.
His breathing slowed, becoming quieter, his thrashing less, when the man I'd kicked stepped forward with a string of curses, grabbed me around the upper arms and dragged me backwards. I resisted, but to no avail - although I was still close enough to see Mikal, in that final moment, give a ghost of a smile, and breathe out, then go still.
I can't close my eyes now without seeing that image - his small body, lying broken, bleeding on the forest floor, surrounded by enemies, and dying with my screams in his ears. He shouldn't have died like that. Gods, he should never have died at all, my smiling, sweet brother, pure as the spring rain, carefree as the wind.
Tears are rolling down my cheeks once again, and I almost don't want to wipe them away, because when I do I'll remove the splatters of blood that are left - what feels like my last connection with him. But I will wipe them away, because I will not allow these bastards to see me weak, see me succumb, I will not let them watch me fall, because I will not stumble again, not within their sight, ever.
Jel can cry - she lost her sister, and I lost my friend, but I will be strong enough for the both of us, I will carry her if needs be, I simply will not let them win.
User Reviews
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-05-19 18:41:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Yes.
Submitted by r1nce (user info) at 2006-10-02 22:28:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent.
Submitted by Amontillado (user info) at 2006-10-02 21:44:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
incredible first post
Submitted by seasofseems (user info) at 2006-01-17 19:58:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
First person narratives always take me a minute to get into. This one was no different. Didn't follow it till the pain really set in.
I took issue with a few grammatical choices here and there, particularly in your use of commas in places instead of the almighty elipses. Dramatic pause should be conveyed with an elipses, and I thought there were places that could have used one in this piece.
As for the narration, I had a little trouble placing this in a time period. The setting was a little unclear. At first I was in the Old West, then the armor and 'breaking of walls' brought me to the middle ages, but the language didn't jive with that, so I still don't really know.
Other than that, the writing was good...vivid.
See what I mean?
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-01-17 19:22:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh, and also, everything was very gripping and fascinating. This story has a lot of hook, baby.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2006-01-17 19:18:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Um, wow. This was amazing. You really got the reader into the head of the narrator.
I mean, wow. This was really good.
Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2006-01-14 03:39:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow, this was really good. I'm looking forward to reading the next in the series.
Submitted by Hirilnara (user info) at 2006-01-10 18:21:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Just found number 4, and curiousity sent me back here...
Curiousity has just redeemed itself!
Really REALLY good! I'm off to read the rest now!
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2006-01-04 16:49:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh. Hell. Yeah.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2006-01-03 20:02:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-12-29 16:40:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
WOLVERINES!!!!!!!!
Submitted by el_em_en_oh (user info) at 2005-12-29 08:04:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2005-12-28 16:34:29 (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-12-28 16:26:57 (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow! First post. Very nicely done.
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-12-29 00:15:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Oooh. Awesome first post.
Homer: Okay, okay, don't panic. To find Flanders, I just have to think
like Flanders!
Homer's Brain:
I'm a big four-eyed lame-o and I wear the same stupid sweater
everyday, and --
Homer: The Springfield River!
Home Sweet Homediddly-Dum-Doodily
Submitted by Clark_Kent (user info) at 2005-12-28 18:51:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I totally agree. Same thing happened here http://www.ubersite.com/m/81643
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-12-28 17:08:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good stuff.
Submitted by ruthless (user info) at 2005-12-28 17:03:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-12-28 15:13:11 (#)
Ranking: 2
more
Submitted by FALLEN (user info) at 2005-12-28 16:56:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
fuck! well done!
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-12-28 16:42:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
good first post, but i couldn't really get into it.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2005-12-28 16:34:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-12-28 16:26:57 (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow! First post. Very nicely done.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-12-28 16:26:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow! First post. Very nicely done.
Submitted by ubetidid (user info) at 2005-12-28 16:07:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2005-12-28 15:13:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
more