Fiction: The Horizon
Sep. 10th, 2012 11:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonflyTitle: The Horizon
Word count: 500
Rating: G
Prompt:![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
inkstains contest 65: horizon
She keeps her gaze fixed on the horizon.
It’s all she can do, the only place to look. She has to keep walking. She knows that somewhere, far ahead of her, is somewhere she can go, somewhere she can be safe.
Or at least she believes so.
She can’t look at her feet, or she’ll stumble. She can’t look up, or she’ll be dazzled. She can’t look to her left, or she’ll be tempted. She can’t look to her right, or she’ll break.
She can’t look back, or she’ll fall, and she’ll never be able to rise again.
Forward. The horizon. There is no other place. No other way that it is safe to look.
She can feel the heat of the ground even through the thick, hobnailed soles of her heavy boots. She can feel it rising in waves up to her hands, scorching her fingertips as she swings them to match her stride. She can feel it pressing on her lower eyelids, tempting her to close her eyes, worrying at the tear ducts, trying to make her cry. But she can’t. She won’t.
The wind tickles and teases at her, pushes her back and forward and side to side, trying to make her trip, trying to overbalance her. It brings cool breezes and droplets of rain that tempt her to turn her face into it. It brings hot zephyrs and specks of burning sand that tempt her to turn her face away. But she can’t move her gaze, and she won’t.
She can hear the wind, too, whistling and rustling, making her think there may be trees somewhere, rain somewhere, running water somewhere. She knows it isn’t true. There are no trees, no water, unless they’re ahead of her, over the horizon. She must keep her focus there.
And it brings smells, sweet and spicy and musky, ever-changing, ever-moving. Those don’t even interest her. They change too quickly. They’re too strong. They seem to come from right under her nose, when there is nothing there, nothing for miles away. They may make her mouth water and her stomach rumble and the spot between her shoulder blades prickle with fear, but they will not make her turn.
She will not turn. Somewhere ahead is safety. Somewhere ahead is peace.
She keeps her eyes fixed on the horizon and walks, and walks, and walks. Her muscles ache and strain and burn but she puts one foot in front of the other, once, twice, so many times she doesn’t know the words for the numbers to count them. Pain shoots up her shins from her ankles to her knees but she doesn’t let it stop her.
And then she sees it: ahead of her, green. The wind rustles the leaves, the scent of water wafts to her, the cool air flows toward her and over her burning face and tingling fingertips.
Her eyes begin to water, and she takes quicker steps.
She is almost there. Almost to the horizon.
Did you enjoy this story? You can read more stories in this world or see all my fiction posted at Dreamwidth!
Word count: 500
Rating: G
Prompt:
inkstains contest 65: horizonShe keeps her gaze fixed on the horizon.
It’s all she can do, the only place to look. She has to keep walking. She knows that somewhere, far ahead of her, is somewhere she can go, somewhere she can be safe.
Or at least she believes so.
She can’t look at her feet, or she’ll stumble. She can’t look up, or she’ll be dazzled. She can’t look to her left, or she’ll be tempted. She can’t look to her right, or she’ll break.
She can’t look back, or she’ll fall, and she’ll never be able to rise again.
Forward. The horizon. There is no other place. No other way that it is safe to look.
She can feel the heat of the ground even through the thick, hobnailed soles of her heavy boots. She can feel it rising in waves up to her hands, scorching her fingertips as she swings them to match her stride. She can feel it pressing on her lower eyelids, tempting her to close her eyes, worrying at the tear ducts, trying to make her cry. But she can’t. She won’t.
The wind tickles and teases at her, pushes her back and forward and side to side, trying to make her trip, trying to overbalance her. It brings cool breezes and droplets of rain that tempt her to turn her face into it. It brings hot zephyrs and specks of burning sand that tempt her to turn her face away. But she can’t move her gaze, and she won’t.
She can hear the wind, too, whistling and rustling, making her think there may be trees somewhere, rain somewhere, running water somewhere. She knows it isn’t true. There are no trees, no water, unless they’re ahead of her, over the horizon. She must keep her focus there.
And it brings smells, sweet and spicy and musky, ever-changing, ever-moving. Those don’t even interest her. They change too quickly. They’re too strong. They seem to come from right under her nose, when there is nothing there, nothing for miles away. They may make her mouth water and her stomach rumble and the spot between her shoulder blades prickle with fear, but they will not make her turn.
She will not turn. Somewhere ahead is safety. Somewhere ahead is peace.
She keeps her eyes fixed on the horizon and walks, and walks, and walks. Her muscles ache and strain and burn but she puts one foot in front of the other, once, twice, so many times she doesn’t know the words for the numbers to count them. Pain shoots up her shins from her ankles to her knees but she doesn’t let it stop her.
And then she sees it: ahead of her, green. The wind rustles the leaves, the scent of water wafts to her, the cool air flows toward her and over her burning face and tingling fingertips.
Her eyes begin to water, and she takes quicker steps.
She is almost there. Almost to the horizon.
Did you enjoy this story? You can read more stories in this world or see all my fiction posted at Dreamwidth!
no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 10:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-09-16 09:00 pm (UTC)