#oneaday, Day 53: Freewriting #3, or What The Hell Is Going On In My Head?

[In the absence of any particular inspiration today, I’m going to start that clock for ten minutes once again and just write without editing, except that which happens on “autopilot” as I type. Let’s see what happens this time, shall we? Three. Two. One. Go!]

Fire light.

A camp fire.

Figures all around. Standing. Waiting. What are they waiting for?

Who knows. No-one knows, not even the woman standing apart from the group, facing the other way, into the forest. She weeps, for something lost and almost forgotten.

The men chant. No-one knows what they are saying, not even then. It is a dead language, dredged up for this ceremony which no-one is sure of its purpose.

The woman turns. The men continue, seemingly oblivious to her presence. Her face is streaked with tears.

She pulls off the shoulder of her fur top, first one, then the other. The garment falls to the floor. She is naked in the darkness, the red glow of the fire illuminating her skin.

She walks towards the fire. The men still chant. Over and over. She walks. Closer. The heat is on her skin now, making her sweat.

What is this? she thinks. Why am I here? I don’t know what this ceremony is about, or what it is that is going to happen next.

A man’s attention is distracted. He stumbles over one of the words of the dead language. No-one notices except the woman. She turns, her flaxen hair falling over her bare shoulders. She locks eyes with the man.

One word goes through her mind. Heretic.

Why heretic? Why is he a heretic when I don’t understand why any of us are here? she thinks.

The man is panicking, trying his best to find his rhythm and get back with the rest of the group. Still no-one has noticed except the woman, now staring at him, the light of the fire reflected in her widening eyes, still glistening with tears.

The man looks away from her, down at the floor, as he continues to mumble the words, missing things here and there.

Eventually, he can take it no longer, and sinks to his knees, his bare legs striking the dirt on the ground and grazing them. It hurts more than he expected, but in a short while it won’t matter.

The woman is filled with sorrow for this man’s fate. She doesn’t know what it is, but a flash of something – a forgotten memory? A vision? Something blasts through her mind, and it is not a pretty sight. She catches a glimpse of the man’s face in her mind’s eye, his face contorted with intense torment and pain.

Then she knows. She has to save him. She has to get out of here. She takes a step forward. Towards him. Moving slowly, her bare feet gliding across the dirty floor.

The kneeling man looks up at her with pleading eyes. Her eyes still glisten. Her heart is filled with compassion for this man, this poor man dragged into this situation beyond his control, just like she was. And she knows that it is time. It is time for this to continue no longer.

She takes his hand. The other men chant, over and over in a forgotten, dead language. They are oblivious to what she is doing, and oblivious to the young man’s mistakes. In a few short minutes, all that will change, and she knows this. She pulls him up to his feet and nods her head towards the darkness of the forest, away from the angry red glow of the firelight.

Where should we go? she asks herself. I don’t know where we are.

Run, he says with his eyes, looking at her, on the verge of tears.

The unspoken communication between the two of them passes quickly, and, hands clasped tightly together, they run into the forest. Plants and branches sting and lacerate their bare legs as they run, but in a few short minutes none of that will matter. In a few short minutes, the ceremony will be over, for better or worse, and all this will cease to matter.

Given our desertion, she thinks, my money is on “worse”.

But she doesn’t want to stick around to find out. And she’s sure he doesn’t either.

Where to go? The forest paths seem to lead in every direction.

The only thing they can think of is the direction they cannot go in – back towards the flames. That way lies only suffering and death.

But where to go from here?

[Yeah, I know. Don’t ask.]