Warm, sweet sickly crimson drapes down from their black and blue blossoms, pooling around me. Raw iron sang at the back of my throat, tearing a path through my jugular, the pearly dam unable to hold back the oncoming wave of blood. Encroaching darkness began to eclipse the scant few rays peeking into the alley. The two men before me began to fade until only their outline remained, their coarse chortling ringing through my ears as consciousness slowly filtered into the abyss.
Howling winds of a blizzard whips me out of my slumber. I awake standing, a cascade of ichor pours from me, staining the snow beneath me. The powdery gales race around me and begin to enclose, like hungry dogs closing on their wounded pray. The cold has already flayed my skin pink and raw, threatening to shatter my bones next. Despite this, nothing but warmth permeated through me. Like waves crashing a sandy shore, this furnace within burns the survival instincts ingrained into my being as fuel, the desire to survive held strong against the siege mounted by the cold. A rumbling thunder began to brew deep in the blizzard, falling into a violent crescendo until the beating of hooves was all I could hear. Two massive jets of black race past, impervious to any law the universe had ruled out, as their gallops had drummed up such deafening din on the veil of snow. Too late did I notice the thick chain that clung to both of the beasts as it blindsided me, beginning to tangle itself around my squirming body, locking me into the journey of the two creatures.
At first, I tried to keep on my feet, stumbling through the snow. My futile attempts of trying to keep pace at their breakneck speeds had only awarded me with a mouthful of snow. I could feel my body break as the steel tightened around my form, slaking its thirst on the burgundy bounty that had aged for 17 years within its now ruined cask. But it was not the life essence pouring out of me that was my primary concern, nor was it the fact that I was being towed to an unknown location with my face grinding into the ground. It was the ever-growing feeling of the fire dying. The flame that had burned so fierce, that had warded me from the cold was now fading, the freezing fangs of my constraints had begun to leave a growing mark in my mind.
Without warning the beasts bolted still. My bound form sailed through the air and crashing, the snow breaking my fall, not that it had mattered as by this point, I looked no different than a garden of roses, upturned and ruined. Awkwardly shifting around I had finally laid eyes upon my unrequested chauffeurs. Two stallions, darker than night stood stock still without a hint of snow across their hellish forms. They looked absolutely draconian. If the manifestation of nightmares had messengers, these two would find no competition. Their blazing coals for eyes lock onto mine, their faces contort as a smile that no horse should ever have prints itself onto their ebony faces. They were mocking me. Although not a word was exchanged between the pair, the malice dancing amongst their gums and the schadenfreude leaking through the dark coals was palpable. A goading whinny rumbled simultaneously before they began to follow the trail of blood, bowing their heads down to occasionally lap the gore stained into the snow.
It hurt. It hurt so much. Or at least I think it was meant to. I couldn’t feel anything. By now the furnace had long ran out of fuel. Hell, I doubt that if it was still there, or had even existed in the first place. Perhaps this was for the best. After all, why would I want the displeasure of being able to feel right now? Maybe I will just lie down here, down in the snow. The snow was nice. It didn’t wrap chains around me, berate me of my intellect, strike me for voicing my opinions. It wasn’t like dad. Dad. The mere thought of him had almost returned feeling to my body. If it were possible, I would have felt a venomous rage beginning to boil deep in my stomach. He was the cause behind all this. He was the reason I was here, abducted by heinous beasts and handled like some unwanted luggage. My wounds, this emptiness I feel, the past five days of absolute misery had all been caused by him. I scream. I scream and I scream, and I scream. I do not know who or what I am hoping my voice reaches, I just know that I must scream. Blood curdles in my throat and I still scream. I curse my father’s name, the world, that shithole of a household. As that final rebuke echoes through the air, I begin to realise the blizzard had long died down. The howling winds had ceased their screeching, as if standing aside for me to let out my bellows. Coming in to replace the blizzard was a silvery film. A fog as thick as my layers of troubles had rolled in. Slowly oozing its way towards me, as if it could sense my vulnerability. Perhaps the shepherd of this dull flock was the hazy figure plastered in the far distance of the mist. Although it had become hard to tell if it was really there or if it was my mind playing tricks on me, a hallucination of the reaper coming to collect me. The last thing I recall is the delicate smell of flowers that rode passenger on the fog.
Once again, I awake in a strange new environment. A gentle rhythm of swaying coax me out of my slumber. A plush, lavish pillow beneath me, yet unlike the snow it was not cold, it was inviting me to sink back to sleep. Perhaps it may have been tempting if I had not grown curious. A quick scan had revealed that I had found myself in a shikara and the oarsman paddling us along had their face covered in a inky cowl. They made no attempt to answer or even respond to any of the questions thrown at them. Instead, I had turned my attention outwards. We had been travelling down a narrow river, its waters murky. Along the banks, chrysanthemums lined in rank and file, their dark violet heads bowing down to us as we passed. A pleasant calm had washed over. This feeling of profound relief had somehow felt nostalgic, like an old friend that once you were close with and had shared many memories with. Rumination upon this matter had borne fruit as I recall when I had felt this. The details were lost but one undeniable fact that I recall was being in possession of the prophet’s hair. Yes, it was when the vial was in my pockets was when a similar feeling was present.
The boat had pulled over to a meadow full of flowers, their scent filling the air with a motherly warmth. The boatman tapped his oar on the shikara thrice, signalling the arrival of my destination. As I step off, a pair of does jump out of the bed of flowers and glide over the fields towards me. The smaller one of the two circles me, inspecting my person before departing in the direction the shikara had come from. I was not given much time to ponder why though, as the remaining doe began guiding me deeper into the meadows. As I waltz through the flowers, the feeling of peace further cemented itself into my soul. The lush grass beneath my feet, gentle rays of the sun caressing my body and the soft coat of the down filling my hand. It was as if the tender love of a mother had become one with nature.
I was eventually led to a tree made of glass. The structure protruding out of the ground had all the liken features of a tree, simply that it had been constructed out of glass. At its core rested a vial, tinted glass cased in exquisitely wrought silver. It had all made sense. What else than the hair of the prophet would have been capable of creating such a serene landscape. As I drank in its majesty, the smaller doe of the pair had nestled into my palm. Unconsciously, my hand stroked through its fur, until the sensation of slick grime stuck to my hand. The moment ruined; I look down to see that the deer had been soiled. Streaks of dirt had run through its once pristine coat. Any speculations on the matter were halted by a familiar sound. A rumbling thunder brewed behind me and as I turned to confirm the mounting duress, a stygian beast was bolting right for us! Throwing myself to the ground I had brace for impact. Though it never came. Instead, an ear-piercing crash rang throughout the meadows. Looking up, I saw that the creature had smashed through the transparent tree and had the vial clenched betwixt its jaws. Another hideous smile wretched itself across its face before it had taken off again, sprinting away with the manifestation of my security. A ruinous rage began to light deep within, and this time it had spilt over. I had endured and risen through the filth and muck, yet this foul beast dares to steal my saviour. Running after the horse, I had made all of my frustrations and resentment for the creature knowns to all.
“Thief! Thief! Thief!”
