Death and Rebirth
I couldn't sleep that night. Every time I shut my eyes, images of Anya's flesh being flayed from her bones filled my mind. That, curiously, wasn't what disturbed me. No. What disturbed me was the scaly hide that sludged forth to replace her ivory skin. Each putrid, gray scale seemed even more rancid than the last. And when the transformation was complete, the steel blue eyes I loved before seemed to take on a sinister light, almost in mockery of the gentle vision they once were.
Stoking the fire, I glanced over at her sleeping frame, finding relief in that the progeny of my mind was simply that. But something seemed...different. The feeling of serenity I used to feel when looking upon her was gone. The beautiful features I was so enamored with in the past appear alien now, as if they were a mask to something deranged beneath.
"You're up early," she yawned, pulling me from my reverie.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Oh? Why not?"
"I was thinking how lucky I must be to have found you again."
"Didn't I find you, silly?" She stuck her tongue out at me. Sinister or not, she was still unbearably cute.
"I suppose." I looked around for some sort of indication as to where we were, but the trees that surrounded us seemed so foreign that it was pointless. "So, where are we? More importantly, where were we?"
"Well, I don't know where we are, but we just escaped a place known as the Prison of the Damned."
"Sounds like a cozy place."
"Tell me about it. It's a place where souls of those who die before their time due to their own ignorance end up."
"Wait. I died?"
"The last few months of your life, you were so weak from the chemo that you fell into a coma. Then one day, you just drifted into death. It was very painful. Your mother, as you know, never left your side. Unfortunately, she wouldn't accept that you were gone. She denied it for days, never leaving your bedside. When they finally wrested your body from her grasp, she went mad. She returned to her home, carrying a picture of you around the house, talking to it as if it was you.
"Your dad, on the other hand, drunk himself into a stupor. As far as I can tell, it's the only thing that kept him sane. Sadly, it strained his liver horribly, and it finally gave out a month after you died."
"Is he still alive?" I asked, not wanting to believe what she was telling me.
"I don't know. I was suffering so greatly after you died, so desperate to be with you again, that I took my own life. That's how I ended up in the Prison. But at least it worked," she smiled weakly, "having found you. Though, truth be told, I wasn't sure it was you."
"You killed yourself? I didn't think you were that weak."
"Hey!" she snapped, "I tried to reconcile with your death, but I just couldn't handle life without you. You were always the one telling me, 'Things will be OK.' When you were gone, I had no one left."
We sat in silence for what seemed like hours. "We should probably move," I finally said. "Those things will probably come after us soon."
"To where? We're stranded in this wasteland, with no food or supplies."
"Well, I know of a shaman not too far from here." I did? "Mother Krelo, as she's known, would at least give us some answers." Mother Krelo? Where was this coming from? I couldn't even determine where we are, and suddenly I can find witchdoctors?
"Wait. Where did that come from?"
"I'm not sure, but at this point, I'd rather just try it. It beats wandering around aimlessly through a bleak forest, being pursued by horrible abominations, and barely enough wherewithal to figure out which way is up."
"Ah, so instead, we're wandering around aimlessly through a bleak forest, being pursued by horrible abominations, with barely enough wherewithal to figure out which way is up, heading to a destination you pulled you pulled out of your ass," she said derisively.
"Have any better ideas?"
"Well, no"
"I thought not."
I couldn't sleep that night. Every time I shut my eyes, images of Anya's flesh being flayed from her bones filled my mind. That, curiously, wasn't what disturbed me. No. What disturbed me was the scaly hide that sludged forth to replace her ivory skin. Each putrid, gray scale seemed even more rancid than the last. And when the transformation was complete, the steel blue eyes I loved before seemed to take on a sinister light, almost in mockery of the gentle vision they once were.
Stoking the fire, I glanced over at her sleeping frame, finding relief in that the progeny of my mind was simply that. But something seemed...different. The feeling of serenity I used to feel when looking upon her was gone. The beautiful features I was so enamored with in the past appear alien now, as if they were a mask to something deranged beneath.
"You're up early," she yawned, pulling me from my reverie.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Oh? Why not?"
"I was thinking how lucky I must be to have found you again."
"Didn't I find you, silly?" She stuck her tongue out at me. Sinister or not, she was still unbearably cute.
"I suppose." I looked around for some sort of indication as to where we were, but the trees that surrounded us seemed so foreign that it was pointless. "So, where are we? More importantly, where were we?"
"Well, I don't know where we are, but we just escaped a place known as the Prison of the Damned."
"Sounds like a cozy place."
"Tell me about it. It's a place where souls of those who die before their time due to their own ignorance end up."
"Wait. I died?"
"The last few months of your life, you were so weak from the chemo that you fell into a coma. Then one day, you just drifted into death. It was very painful. Your mother, as you know, never left your side. Unfortunately, she wouldn't accept that you were gone. She denied it for days, never leaving your bedside. When they finally wrested your body from her grasp, she went mad. She returned to her home, carrying a picture of you around the house, talking to it as if it was you.
"Your dad, on the other hand, drunk himself into a stupor. As far as I can tell, it's the only thing that kept him sane. Sadly, it strained his liver horribly, and it finally gave out a month after you died."
"Is he still alive?" I asked, not wanting to believe what she was telling me.
"I don't know. I was suffering so greatly after you died, so desperate to be with you again, that I took my own life. That's how I ended up in the Prison. But at least it worked," she smiled weakly, "having found you. Though, truth be told, I wasn't sure it was you."
"You killed yourself? I didn't think you were that weak."
"Hey!" she snapped, "I tried to reconcile with your death, but I just couldn't handle life without you. You were always the one telling me, 'Things will be OK.' When you were gone, I had no one left."
We sat in silence for what seemed like hours. "We should probably move," I finally said. "Those things will probably come after us soon."
"To where? We're stranded in this wasteland, with no food or supplies."
"Well, I know of a shaman not too far from here." I did? "Mother Krelo, as she's known, would at least give us some answers." Mother Krelo? Where was this coming from? I couldn't even determine where we are, and suddenly I can find witchdoctors?
"Wait. Where did that come from?"
"I'm not sure, but at this point, I'd rather just try it. It beats wandering around aimlessly through a bleak forest, being pursued by horrible abominations, and barely enough wherewithal to figure out which way is up."
"Ah, so instead, we're wandering around aimlessly through a bleak forest, being pursued by horrible abominations, with barely enough wherewithal to figure out which way is up, heading to a destination you pulled you pulled out of your ass," she said derisively.
"Have any better ideas?"
"Well, no"
"I thought not."