Continuing Story, Part 2.

The ocean rushed under her as the moonlight danced off its swiftly flowing undulations. She became aware of this as the strong arms continued to hold her as they all flew across the silent night sky. In the distance she noticed thunderclouds, with lighting bolts dancing with each other to a silent melody inside and out.

It was some time before the arms landed on a shore that seemed nearly foreign to her, its salty sea air dotted with pungent, alluring whiffs of unseen sweets, and fruits to which she had never been introduced.

The arms held her tight as the body they belonged to walked nearly motionlessly across the sandy beach. The waves were so calm she barely heard them.

The arms carried her towards a light in front of them. The light was bluish, unlike the sun. Was she dying? At this point, she had determined that these were spirits taking her to the afterlife. Perhaps she had done something to merit a good afterlife. Perhaps she wasn't an abomination as everyone had said.

As they approached, she readied herself to leave this life. To leave behind her family, those that tried to cut her skin, to cut off the atrocities. Those who paraded her through the streets to her village shaman who tried to kill her in the sight of the approving audience. She was ready to forgive them all. To let them all go.

As the figures entered the light, she realized suddenly that the warm air was cooler, and there were other figures inside. The figure walked over calmly to the corner of the room, and laid her on a bed. New pain swelled as her wounded flesh met the soft bed. She heard a ripping sound as her dried blood separated from her body and clung to the figures arms.

The figure looked at the blood, and picked up a blanket, flowing it over her broken frame. The figure left to talk to the others, and they all spoke in a language she could not understand. A gutteral language she had only heard once before.

She felt sleep overpowering her again, and as she did she could faintly hear a low rumble, and nearly felt as if the enclosed space they occupied was flying off from the ground.
To be continued...

Continuing Story, Part 1.

She looked at the cliff below her shaking feet that barely held up her shattered body. Beneath her blood-covered toes was nearly a mile of nothing, which broke violently into jagged rocks and waves thrashing in anticipation of her arrival.

This was it. The end of her life. 

She whirled around in terror as the horde of men and women flew out of the jungle like angry panthers ready to eat their damaged prey. The glistening of their knifes and scythes sparkled in the moonlight. Her very bones nearly shook themselves apart in panic as their high pitched screams of delight drew closer.

In the last bit of bravery she could muster, she turned around and jumped. Her tattered dress flailed violently as she tumbled head over feet to the rocky tempest below her.

She was ready to let go. Ready to let go of the last five years of her life. Ready to let go of the torture she endured. The cages, beatings. All of it.

She was ready to meet her end.

But her end did not visit that moonlit night, for as she began to feel the ocean spray across her face, and the jagged rocks rising in greedy anticipation of smashing her already broken body, a firm hand grabbed her, and strong arms held her, as she suddenly felt a rush of air to her side. 

Her body, now completely limp, was thrown around a bit as this figure held her, carrying her from the torrent of hate and cacophony of death swirled behind her. 

As she drifted into sleep, she caught a glimpse of his face. A strong, confident and kind face. Her last memory was that of two other figures behind him, with nearly the came kindness on their faces as well.

Perhaps today was not the day she would die after all.

To be continued.

This will be a continuing story. Have fun reading! (Style is stream of consciousness.)