Tumbled Steps
As soft as a whisper, inaudible, almost like a plea, she said,
“We need to leave.”
The quiet figure who stirred feebly, was drenched in white shrouds, enveloping him fondly, yet stiflingly.
He slowly turned toward his sister, dazed, his half-lidded eyes shadowed by lashes that clung together like threads of ink.
A streak of ebony black slashed across his pale, burgeoned cheek who shone dully in the dim light, seeming to disrupt the sense of fragility he held.
A slight frown paraded his expression as the putrid odor that approached him penetrated his nostrils.
The half-slumberous boy muttered indolently, voice guttural,
“What...?”
“We need to leave.”
She repeated, her words seeped through her clenched teeth and escaped the barricade of lusterless, cracked lips, and swooned with the glacial wind of the gloaming.
Her begrimed fingers, clutched onto the white blanket, faint traces of blackened fingerprints were imprinted in the snow, she gripped, searching for his arm, only to find nothing.
“We need to leave.” She repeated, her hands grasping everywhere still searching.
“We need to leave.” She repeated, clawing through the endless shrouds that imprisoned her brother.
“We need to-”
“Delyth?”
Pang.
A frigid jolt etched in her heart.
She slowly twisted her neck.
There stood behind her, a runtish figure.
Small, scarred hands hugged a pillow with damp spots, his ebony entangled hair drooped down by his sides, slightly curling like ink tentacles.
The young girl trembled.
With each quiver, a cold tingle dispersed in her body, like propagating shock waves. Miniscule nodules emerged on her skin, endowing it a lumpish texture.
Lips quaking, her pupils oscillating, she slowly turned her head back, as if time fought her.
On the bed, was no one.
Solely ripples of the blankets stippled with black stains that sullied the white and a vague dent of a small silhouette.
There also lay, two pale hands. Grime besmirched stains.
They teemed with filth, befouled palms, dirt tracing the faint lines of fate.
Bemired hands.
Sullied hands.
Bedraggled claws.
“Delyth”
She snapped her head towards her brother.
Unknowingly, wet streaks cascaded down her face, still welling up.
“Why?” He asked.
“Wh-...” She stuttered. Why what?”
“Why do we need to leave?” He asked.
Chirp.
“I-..because.”
Chirp.
“Because...”
Her lips parted.
Nothing. No words came. Only the sound of her pulse screaming in her ears.
Chirp.
“Because..because.”
Her fingers twitched.
“I saw...”
A dull ache swarmed her head.
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“They wanted...”
Breathing became arduous.
“They-”
A low-pitch buzz drifted silently in her ear.
“They...they...they-”
She muttered incessantly, her voice gradually distorting into a hoarse, raspy tone that scraped her throat.
She wanted to tell him.
Tell him the things she saw, she discovered, the danger that pursued him.
But she couldn’t. She was a coward.
Afraid of spilling out the dreadful truth that resided in the deep walls of her beliefs.
But she couldn’t. She was greedy.
Afraid of losing the sole gleam of innocence, that wafted fragilely in the obscurity, that she pertained in life.
Her blackened hands clutched ruthlessly the wool blankets.
Her trimmed nails tore through the cloud-soft threads, puncturing the white shroud.
A faint scent of smoke tickled her nose, sharp, acrid. But she was too focused on her brother to notice.
The young girl finally choked out,
“We need to leave.”
Abruptly, a distant shout resounded from afar,
“FIRE! The barn is on fire!”
Buzz.
The low-pitch hum chirred unremittingly, it grew louder.
Deafening.
Plangent.
Discordant.
Blunted throe plagued her mind, rattling anew.
The hum of gurgling incomprehensibilities slowly distorted into cavernous whispering and muttering of one word;
Run.
Delyth hastily gripped her brother’s arm and ran.
She ran.
Head, limbs, throat, body, aching.
She didn’t know what she was doing nor where she was going.
Inch by inch, all she could feel was agony and the gelid, pale arm of her brother under the brute grasp of her begrimed hands.
A searing scorch bruised her gorge.
Her legs pulsated, radiating an unendurable scalding scathe, coursing through her veins.
Her mind disheveled, detrimental pain emanated within, only one word stood clear.
Run.
Run.
Run.
She heard the strident screams and shouts of the people surrounding the fire, scurrying riotously to extinguish the roaring fire, its incandescent flames refusing to be annihilated.
The young girl scampered down the overlapping paths of the village, her wooden shoes colliding with the ingrained rocks in the soil.
Clack, clack, clack.
Frigid gusts of wind hurled in her ear, blending with the buzz that persisted.
As she escaped, behind a dark figure watched silently from the window.
Pale, slender fingers gripped the edge, nails curling, clawing the wooden slab, as damp spots slowly formed while torrent drops sputtered.
A small murmur, reverberated quietly,
“Goodbye, my dear children.”
Clack, clack, clack.
It continued, the grating noise lingered in the silent air of the night.
She ran.
She didn’t know for how long or where she was.
She couldn’t feel anything. Nothing. Everything was dull. Numb.
Only the cold touch of her brother lingered.
Screech.
A harsh, excruciating, grating sound resonated clamorously.
Thud.
She couldn’t feel anything.
Only the wrenching, harrowing sting she felt on her knees.
The throb palpitated, exposed in the cold air, it twinged, sweltering, scalding.
Tears deluged her eyes, they trickled abundantly, scudding downwards, leaving damp streaks.
She couldn’t feel anything.
“FUCK.”
The young girl howled belligerently, agony interlacing with the strained shriek.
Subdued, choked sobs rang incessantly next to her.
She inhumanly twisted her head, her eyes darting distraughtly, growing uneasiness engraved in her heart.
There lay, a runtish figure, ebony hair splayed on the ground, face planted in the ground.
Ache bloomed and hammered through her skull, echoing like a bell.
Fingers dug in the soft soil; she tightened her grasp and dragged herself towards the whimpering shadow.
Rugged, jagged pebbles rubbed against her skin, scraping elongated stripes, as she lugged, gritting her teeth through the fervent pain.
The young girl hastily encased the crying boy in her arms, warmth seeping through the endless streaming tears. Her hands trembled as she caressed shakily, yet dotingly, tracing large circles on his back, pleading to calm his never ceasing cries.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, burying his head in her arms.
“I’m sorry.” She muttered, her voice brittle was tears emerged once again, overflowing.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...-” She breathed, frantically choking out a splintered string of unfathomable words as her throat clogged up, spiraling into never-ending begging for forgiveness.
“Sister will fix this.” Her arms tightened.
“Please forgive sister.” Her caresses whisking into a pugnacious rhythm.
“She didn’t want to hurt you.” Her warm breath ghosted his trembling cheek.
A drenched patch of moisture blossomed on her left shoulder.
She precipitately cupped his face in her hands.
Beads of crimson drooped down from a deep gash lacerated on his forehead and amalgamated with the droplets of tears that rolled on his swelled cheeks, plummeting from the red-rimmed eyes that harbored watery eyelashes.
White fangs protruded from the confines of his mouth, biting down hard his lower lip to muffle his sobs and hopefully nullify the pain.
A white, darkened finger surged in front of his face, lurking above the stinging wound, restraining the urge to soothe it, afraid of scarring him further.
Rip.
A flutter of white surfaced, billowing in the air, before wrapping itself around the weeping incision, the once white cloth was progressively tainted into a deep, vast red.
The boy stared wide-eyed at his sister, eyes still glistening due to the excess tears.
Her torn, tattered skirt swayed in the unyielding breeze, a large gap exposed the elongated slit that traced down her ankle and the mangled flesh of her bloodied knees.
Rip. Shred.
Other flurry of white swept briskly past the sight of the brother, enveloping the crimson dripping, aching lacerations.
With a pitiless clench of her teeth and repressed winced, she hastily got up, slightly tremulous in her abrupt movements.
He sat quietly on the ground, unfazed by the piercing gravel embedding into his palms.
“Do you need me to carry you?” She asked disturbed at the sight of her brother unwilling to move, ready to sling him on her back at any moment.
He jerked at the question and quickly shook his head, already steadying himself on the dirt to lift himself up.
Clack, clack, clack.
The unchanging sound of wooden shoes reverberated in peculiarly sullen forest.
Sage leaves faltered from the towering, gnarled trees, their boughs overhanging ominously of their heads, as numerous patches of moss infested the crevices.
Twisted roots rose from the damp earth, as if placed deliberately to trip any soul daring to enter the tenebrous forest.
Poison ambiguous mushrooms and berries littered the soil, alluring and appetizing from the outwards.
The waning moon shone murkily on a small narrow cave.
Boulders encompassed the entrance, as if barricading it, as purge-colored, thorn residing, vines descended from the sides accompanied by water from an unknown source that drizzled incessantly.
The drowsiness of the dark sagged somberly on their half-lidded eyes, with their steps dragging towards the cave to rest.
“Delyth, are you sure it’s safe to be resting here?” A slightly trembling voice resounded in the hollow cavern, gripping his sister’s arm harsh enough to leave red marks.
“Don’t worry, Sister will protect you.”
