Escape the Nest V – Slipping away
There are two types of people who inhabit the Nests…
Those who considered what life outside of the thick concrete walls might be like, and those who shut out anything that was not inherently Nest related. So much so that it was heresy to even speak of the Outside.
Obviously people did speak of the Outside. Secretively and quietly. Two or three like minded souls would imagine what it was like, allowing their imaginations a short time to wander through the imagined fields of long grass…
BAM – reality was back like a sledgehammer at the door. Joey had carefully crossed the narrow rock bridge over the river and continued along the path. It was all she could do. But now another problem faced her, and she was .. worried, or was it concerned, troubled, unsure, WHAT ?
She stood just inside the cover of the bush for a while, the strange purple hued sky casting just enough light for her to see a prone form lying on the grass up ahead. It was too far to see much detail. Sleeping? Dead? A trap?
So she watched and fretted, and then alternated that with fretting and watching. Nothing stirred so she edged out of the bushes, along a rough rocky wall to a small drop off in the ground.
It was becoming so hard to think clearly, a hand, a hand making water ripples flooded her mind.
Her heart felt only wrenching sadness as she gazed upon the beautiful female form in front of her, tendrils of pent up emotion wanted to sweep the woman up and give her life. Why was she dead ? She was sure she was dead. There appeared to be a lot of blood, and something else…
Her eyes lit up at the sight of a sword glittering in the grass.
Perhaps – if she were able to overcome here squeamishness – she could liberate the still body of its clothing and weapon. This could be just what she had been wanting.
Still unmoving, she thought back to death in the Nest. People died of course, but you were never confronted by it, you never had to deal with it. You knew it resembled sleep – just permanent, but it was all taken care of. You simply went on with your life.
The womans life had stopped, and possibly at the hands of someone else. That thought alone made her hackles rise, covered her arms in goosebumps, and again the tendrils of emotion reached out to the still one. She felt connected to her, she was no longer Joey from the Nest, Berry picker by trade. No more…
In pain she pressed her hands to her ears, the air humming and alive with a staccato beat of eratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoeratoerato.
Silence again, just a low whisper of ‘Erato’ and she felt the tendril of her heart retract from the dead woman, once more she was whole, but felt new. She was Erato and the blade looked good in hands. Her feet found the path …..
If you missed Part IV, it is here
Part VI is here
Prone model stock : faestock
Seated model : Wolfworx
Background stock image : faestock
Ghost brushes : obsidiandawn
Weapon brushes : spyderwitch
Sky : Wolfworx
Editing : Wolfworx