And The Heavens Fell Silent by Maria Louise (beach read TXT) 📖

dirt path. But my spirit and mind were fresh and new, and ready to keep fighting, despite the protest from my aching limbs.

   After what seemed like forever I reached the flickering light. A tear rolled silently down my cheek. It was not the smoke, the smell, or the look that made me cry, it was the people. Children with just enough flesh to keep their bones from piercing through their skin. Mothers dead in the streets, beaten, starved, raped, it didn’t matter to the people here. They had no emotions of fidelity, or love, only hatred. In a place where the makings of pity, empathy, and love could be kindled into a spark, there was nothing but rage and hate. Hate that had burned the homes of thousands, hate that left the ruffled bodies in the street to be eaten by whatever craven beast was hungry enough. It made me sick, and so I gave over to my instincts and became sick. Shortly after I relieved myself of nothing my vision blurred. “Good”, I thought to myself,” I won’t have to look at this distorted world through a clear glass anymore.” And with that last sentiment I succumbed to unconsciousness, swirling aimlessly in the bliss of ignorance.

Yram

 

However long the night, the dawn will break-English proverbs

        Fear? No. I did not feel it.

        Rage? Yes. It boiled inside me like a pit of lava.

        Anger? I followed it blindly. It was my only guidance.

        Sorrow? I was drowning in it.

        My chains were thankfully removed, only to be replaced with a scratchy rope tied tightly around my wrists. The rope was attached to a saddle on top of a tall midnight colored horse. Riding the horse was none other than the man of a thousand voices.

        I stumbled and wheezed to keep up with the horses fast gate. It felt as though I had been running for hours, though I knew it could have only been more than twenty minutes. Without any food for days and walking relentlessly through the dead forest, I was drained.

        I could not run much longer. My chest felt constricted as if a large rock was laying on top of it and my whole body ached and shook in exertion.

        Abruptly my knees gave way and I fell to the wet, cold, asphalt.The sun could no longer absorb the dew of the morning, leaving a muddled film of water across the land.

  The man on the horses did not seem to notice or care that he was dragging me through the filth covered street.

        I was too weak to get back up so instead I tightened my body and let the horse pull me over rough rocks, through the ash of old fire pits and some new ones. The hot coals singed my flesh, the asphalt tore at my raw skin and the rocks continued to bruise my body, but I would not give in. I refused to succumb to the pain and cry out for God to save me or even take me away from this agony. I felt as though God would not so much as look down upon this city. As if he turned his back on it.

        As the horse quickened her pace we came upon a group of people which I tried to dodge to no avail. I smashed roughly into a man and woman who were locked in a passionate embrace of naked flesh. I shouted out a “Sorry!”  But sorry was only a broken word that held no feeling or meaning. A word of no use. It was funny, I thought. That was how I felt.

        Broken, with no feeling nor meaning. No, I realized with a disgusted smile. I had a meaning.

       Finally, I slid to a stop on the outskirts of the city. Distantly, I heard pigs snorting and children whimpering and people moaning as starvation ate away at their flesh.

         My face was raw and torn, with bits of gravel stuck into it. I did not notice. I had only one thing on my mind.

   To kill.

     I heard a thunk as the man of a thousand voices jumped off his horse. I peeled my eyes open to see his slick, black leather boots crunching in the gravel road towards me. I noticed odd rust colored blotches that sprinkled his shoes. My vision went red with rage as I realized it was the stains of blood. I saw another pair of feet appear within my vision. They wore no shoes and were covered in filth. The feet then walked towards the black horse and led it away. A servant, I realised.

    “Get up child.” the evil man told me, his voice slithering under my bloodied skin.

        I tried to obey him, but only made it halfway up before I collapsed back down. The man made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and grabbed the ropes on my wrists and yanked me to my sore feet.

     I looked around me and realized we must have been at his home. It was a huge mansion with Latin writing carved into the sides of it. Satanic symbols and blood soaked the doorway and the path leading to his house. A small ditch that snaked around the mansion reeking of fermented blood. I realized he was trying to protect himself from anything “unholy” or Godly. He had set up wards around the house.

    Horse footsteps clicked on the road behind me. I slowly, painfully, turned to see the woman who had originally captured me, sitting on a scruffy pony. Bile arose in my throat as I saw various bloodied whip lashes on the small ponies rump. I should have been immune to the cruelty of this world by now, however, I was not. It relentlessly sickened me.

        “Slaves!” Bellowed the man of a thousand voices. “Bring me ten pounds of meat, a small chunk of bread and the lighting device!”

        I heard scurrying around inside the house then a emaciated middle aged man ran out of the door towards us, carrying the bag of things he asked for.

The man of a thousand voices gave the bag to the big woman, and pulled a small rectangular object out of it. He then proceeded to flick a switch on the side of it. Flames burst forth from the tip, blinding me for a few short moments. Me and the woman on the pony, gasped in awe. It was unlike anything I had seen before. Like magic!

        “Now leave me, woman.” said the demon after he had shown her how to work the device. She quickly took it, hopped on her pony, and kicked the poor creator into a run.

As I watched the woman leave, I noticed just how dark the day was. How lifeless and without color. Without the sun warming the day and brightening the land, it looked as though the color was sucked out of the world, leaving only a dark gray haze.

        When I use to be afraid of the dark, Mama would always hold me close in her arms, warmed against her beating heart and say, “However long the night, the dawn will always brake.”

        Tears wept down the sides of my face and stung my cuts as I said to know one, “Not this time Mama. There is no dawn to save me from this never ending darkness.”

       

                                                                   

        The man of thousand voices jerked me alone behind him up to the paths of his house. The bloody ropes were cutting into my flesh, making me lose feeling in my tingly hands. Everything hurt. My whole body was a throbbing agony.

        Sorrowfully, I caught the brown eyes of a man. His eyes were sunken in and staring lifelessly into nothingness. I then move my eyes to the rest of his face. His cheekbones were jutting out, his skin was a pale blue gray color and his lips- Oh his lips- were sown together with black string. Blood was caked around the uneven stitch holes. The man was dead I realized while trying to control my breathing. He was hanging from his hands, crucified to a tree in the front yard. He was unclothed with Latin script carved on his chest. It read, “Ave Satanas.” (Hail Satan.)

        “We see you have met our little friend!” said the satanic man smiling proudly.

        “Oh-oh-no-no-no-no-.” I staggered and fell to my still bleeding knees. I placed my hand over my mouth trying to hold back bile. I could not look away. My eyes were locked in his dead, unblinking, gaze.

        “Oh, don’t worry crimson girl, he deserved what he got. He was a bad man! A very bad man indeed. You see, he was found practicing the UN-holy arts of Christianity.” the evil man spat. “So we chose to end him the way his savior was ended.”

        While I was on the ground I felt underneath the waistband of my pants where I hid Toothless's knife. The warmed metal against my flesh brought me hope.

       Once again I was pulled to my feet and drug towards the dreaded house. Most likely the defences he had up to keep any Godliness out, would kill me. Most likely, I would not even live long enough to reach the threshold of the satanic house.

        Most likely, I would soon be dead.

        A calm came over me then. A peace with death one might say. Death was only a part of life, without death there would be no worth in living in the first place. I shook my head. I had always been quite melodramatic. I blame it on my insane mother and my demonic father.

       As I came upon the blood stained door, my heart rate doubled in speed. Maybe I was not okay with death. Not yet, anyway.

  I did not, however, have a say in the matter of my death. I guess no one has a say in death. No one can speak to her nor persuade her. When she is hungry, she feeds.

        Without even a last breath, I was jerked into the house.

       Lucky for me, death was not hungry at the moment.

       Instead of the pain and horror I thought I would feel, I felt a warmth soak my skin and a sense of home calm my heart. I also smelt a soothing smell that rolled over my senses in pure bliss. The satanic man must have smelt it to because he tipped his head back and breathed in deeply. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and said groaning, “Mmmh. Breath this in crimson girl. It is the smell of hell. Of sulphur. A smell I am sure you long for, as do all demons.” 

        I gasped in shock, blood draining from my face.

        “Now Crimson, did you really believe that we, the most powerful being in the city, wanted you for a breeder like the rest of the lustful men? No! We do not crave the fleshly desires of men, nor do we care about beauty.” said the demon licking his lips as if thinking about what he actually desired.

        “Then