I. In Between

Wary, he walked in the middle of the sea and woods. He felt the bits of black sand beneath his feet. The seagulls squawking up ahead, moving farther away. The sea was quiet though the churning waves were unceasing. He kept sauntering with no choice but to go where he was, in between.

Alora. Alora. Alora.

The wind passed through the thickets of old, forgotten trees; withered branches cracked and fell. The leaves were green, no, brown. He blinked. They were black. He looked at the woods again. It has gone still. There was no sound but fire, cackling.

Alora. Alora. Alora.

The waters teasingly touched his ankles. His feet sunk within the sand. It kept him steady as the waters rushed back. He felt the pull of the sea. The brackish sea. He tasted it in his mouth, he felt it in his eyes—it stung. The smoke had risen, from white to grey then black and that was when he decided—he had nowhere else to go. He pulled his feet from the sands and traced his steps back. Bits of white sand, stained with blood got in between his toes. He felt the earth rumble.

Alora. Alora. Alora.

He moved closer to where she was, her body lay, strewn with blood and sand. His shadow casting over her as her eyes stared straight right at his face, or so he thought. They were the color of the sky. The grey sky.

“Don’t worry, I’m here,” he said, tasting his bitter tears. He laid beside her, feeling her blood seep through his clothes. He gazed at her gentle wan face and as he did, he saw the waters withdraw, a massive wave was approaching from the horizon. He smiled. He brought his hand to her face and touched the lids of her eyes, bringing them down. “You don’t have to see this.”

He felt the heat on his back, the fire cackled louder, the smoke turned darker.

Alora. Alora. A—

He closed his eyes and felt the cool waters sweeping him away from white sands and grey skies.

fin