Sire by Ava Galbraith
Lena sat on the forest floor; her legs folded and her head bowed. The wind tumbled through the lush vegetation. Like her thoughts, it seemed to come from nowhere and go nowhere. Her surroundings were unfamiliar, but they were vibrant. A multitude of colors: greens, yellows, and blues, lay beneath her feet and strange noises emanated from the trees that reached for the sky. A small spiny insect crawled over her toe; its bristled feet lightly tickled her. Grass twined around her ankles and vines grappled for her hands. She felt every blade of grass, piece of grain, and drop of water as if she ran her hand over the entire globe. The Earth wanted Lena more than anything. The power that she contained was immense and the Earth desired it.
She was covered in a white lacy substance that did little to shield her delicate skin from the harsh Sun. Lena was on fire. The glowing orb was angry with her; she had caught the Earth’s attention and now the Sun was being ignored. Lena was frustrated with her mind. The organ that could name itself was little use for naming her past or current location. She stretched her willowy limbs forward and heaved her torso up. Earth tightened its grip and she stumbled, tripped, and fell onto her forearms. The thin skin ripped like paper and angry, hot blood seeped into the ground; her eyes grew misty. She ached, but she knew that the game had yet to start.
The area around the torn skin throbbed. Was this pain? No, this was only physical; deep inside her blank mind she knew that she was running from the soul-shattering brokenness and choking fear that engulfed her past. Lena shivered, screams pulled her consciousness inward and everything stopped. Memories and flashbacks; strange to know that the screams were from her past self, but as she gazed upon the snippet of time it felt as though she was in a new life and body. She pushed herself up and stood, trembling on barely used legs. Her steps were shaky and her breath tumbled from her lungs. Her body was not used to activity and Lena leaned on the rough bark of a towering tree. Her lips were cracked and her mouth dry. Keep moving, always moving. After months of being trapped in a cage with her siblings, she was free. Even when caught, Lena would pretend as if she had not been molded into the perfect prey. She laughed; the sound echoed faintly.
Lena’s feet moved. She had not realized that her body bumbled through the thicket. The forest stilled, the hair on her neck bristled, and her heart leapt to her throat. The birds had stopped crooning and the prey found shelter, except for Lena. She was being followed; tracked. Her pace quickened as she scampered. Nature closed in and darkness encompassed her soul. The past smothered her.
Rushing water entered her view and she stopped. The time for running had come to an end and her essence had dimmed. No one escapes the past. Lena could feel his eyes and she shook. He had yet to emerge from the thicket. The game came to an end; this had been the shortest round that she had played. Lena knew he was angry, she wondered what he would do to the others when it was their turn to play.
The Hunter had caught his prey, and Lena was far too tired to fight. The scars on her back and heart had yet to heal, and her wrists still stung from iron chains. She would not go back; she would not be fooled by love.
“You are easy to track. Next time I hope to have more fun with you.” The Hunter grinned; his yellow teeth gleamed in the bright day, there were no clouds in the sky. The Sun laughed at Lena’s demise. His words rung with humor, but his eyes told of the pain she would endure for being weak.
Lena stepped back and faced her captor; she smiled but it did not reach her eyes. She was disappointed with the outcome of life. She knew that she would always return to him. He owned her.
“I have forgiven you, and I hope you will learn to forgive those who hurt you.” Lena looked directly into his eyes. This was the first time she had the courage to voice any of her thoughts. The Hunter’s brows rose; it was not like any of his precious prey to speak back to their master.
“Come to me.” His arms spread wide.
Lena stepped back, and her heel met the raging river. She would not return to the torment, abuse, and lies. She wished the Hunter meant nothing to her. She fell into the water; he never had taught her to swim.
The Hunter screamed and strained to catch her. He would not lose his prize. The light dimmed from her eyes, and the Sun cheered.
As death captured her in a warm embrace, Lena gazed at her Hunter.
“Goodbye, father.”
Ava Galbraith is fascinated by unexpected turns in stories. She dives deep into characters’ psyches and uses stream of consciousness to tell stories. Her work has been published in Ripples In Space, The Dewdrop, and Finding the Birds. She competes in equestrian jumping and emerges herself in foreign cultures. Ava lives in Tucson, Arizona.