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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1696733-An-Oblivion
by Alaska
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #1696733
A story of a man navigating a twisted landscape,
My heart thunders and my lungs burn. I suck in the air, it burns my mouth and nostrils as I drag it through my throat and on into my lungs. And yet my lungs continue to scream in agony, begging for air, pure air. Such is a luxury my body has not experienced in months. My mind blanks and I freeze. Memories drift to the fore of my mind and I recall my life as it once was. Fields stretching for miles until they reach the tender shade of the forest. Flowers dot the view and scatter into the horizon. With a shake and moan of agony I force these memories away. Memories that I do not have the time to enjoy. The world I am in now is all that matters. It has to be the only thing I focus on. It demands my full awareness upon it. The air here is hot, too hot. And it is full of wrongness, a wrongness that coats the lungs and seeps further into my body with each desperate gasp. There is no time to think on it. I can not sit here and rest any longer. My legs feel as though they are consumed in flame and my chest heaves as I rise. I must keep moving. It is the only thing that has kept me whole.

Darting from my fleeting shelter I run for what seems to be a dead forest. Behind me my temporary alcove flows away. Flitting from pillar to pillar I make my way to the forest. My senses are focused on any movement around me. I can not be delayed. I can not. Any delay could well mean perpetual agony. Though I do not think on it my mind still perceives my surroundings. The pillars I hide under as I make my way to the forest are not of stone and earth. No. They are of bone and metal. What were once hands caress my back, shoulders, and head as I pause briefly under each pillar. The ground beneath my feet is not of dirt nor grass. It is a softness with small crevices crawling across it, like mud dried under the sun. And the grass that I tread upon is too thick and too rough. These things I do not dwell on.

As I reach the once-living forest I turn my head and look back on the terrain I have just traversed. A mistake. A mistake I rarely make. When I do the sight grinds at my mind and my eyes feel as though thousands of needles are slowly pushed into them. The pillars of metal and bone standing atop the too soft ground and amongst the too rough grass sway into darkness. A shadow seeps between each pillar and consumes it. The ground convulses and dies as the shadow caresses it. Turning quickly I flee into the forest. The darkness here is not the same as that which pursues. It is still an evil, but it is not an aggressive one. It is heavy and thick as though walking through a swamp. But it is not a wetness that surrounds. It is a chilling and gnawing evil. Here though, I may hide.
Deep in this forest I rest. My legs are no longer mine, they are a distant flame burning slowly out. My lungs, throat, and nose still burn but it is slower now and less agonizing. My body aches and screams for rest. For a brief time I may grant my body it's wish. The edges of my sight lengthen and turn dark. Slowly I slip into oblivion.

My eyes snap open and my heart explodes into action. Instantly I am alert and running. I have been awakened from my torpor by a howl. Not a howl as you know. No, nothing like you know. A wolf booming in the distance preparing to hunt does not cause such terror as this. The sound of this howl shatters the mind and strips one of strength. There is no thought and one can do not but freeze. But I have heard this call before. Too many times before. I know it's purpose and it's meaning. And so I flee. As I pass under the boughs of this dead forest my thoughts drift into remembrance. Playing in the forest of my home as a child I dart from tree to tree eluding my friends as they seek me out. The little bit of light that filters through the trees plays on the face of my friends and there is no thought in our minds other than delight. No. I cannot allow myself to dwell on what once was.

Fallen branches snap under my feet and the arms of these dead trees whip at my face. They bring forth memories of my past life that avail themselves upon me unbidden.
I am running across a field. Not a field of green and peace. No, this is a field of war. The bodies of my enemies and of my friends are strewn before me. So disfigured are they that I cannot tell one from another. But still I rush forward with axe in hand. Old bones from wars long past snap under my feet as arrows slide past me, leaving small furrows in my skin.

In a daze I am standing again in the once-living forest. I try to move and I try to fight, but to no avail. The shadow is near. In the distance I hear desperate cries of sorrow. My head falls back and I gaze into the sky. Memories that I have held back for eternity to better survive come flooding back. White blanks my mind and I see my wife. Beautiful Claire. Black seeps through my thoughts and I am brought back to the field of battle. Rushing forth with axe held low I sweep at an approaching enemy. With a tumble he evades my blow and I begin to know darkness. The darkness fades into shadow as I watch my Claire crying above me and caressing my face. Sweet Claire, what is the matter? Why do you cry so? My heart slows and becomes a faint echo as it thumps it's way to oblivion. What is this?

Word count: 1045
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