Mukuneiu 5: Whitewash

—–The world spun in a torrent of chaotic lights and sounds. There was no sense of order, from direction to colour, and as each, nearly dead, limb lunged forth to take another step upon the ground, the earth felt as though it spun with each press of her foot, much like a massive tredmill. At this pace, she would surely never reach salvation, nor sanctuary. Oh, how sweet the embrace of death had seemed to feel, and yet, there was no peace, but instead an overwhelming oppression of ache and sadness racking her body for all it was worth. Her skin felt torn and useless, dried in the burning light of the over-looming sun, and her clothing was raggedy and makeshift; it felt as beaten as her body, yet not quite as severally as her spirit. Trudging on desperately, her bones felt as though they would snap, jabbing razor-sharp bone splinters up through her muscle, and leave her helpless, laying in a blood-soaked heap on the asphault. Fortunately, such events had not, at least yet, taken shape.

—–While her vision remained horribly distorted, her inward sense of salvation steadily leeched life back into her, and she forced herself onward through the blistering conditions. She knew in her heart, unknown to reason, that she would soon find what she had been seeking. But… what had that been? Surely it was peace, but, in what dimension of the word? Nothing seemed to make sense, and as hopeful as she was becoming, at the same time, she was becoming more lost, and on occassion, quite more often than she had remembered in her entire past, she hadn’t the faintest idea as to why she did not simply lay down and let her life dissolve. Perhaps she should, she had grown far too tired to continue, and just as she began to let her new-found hopes leave her as quickly as they had come, she saw it.
—–The mailbox.

—–Yes, it was vague, blurry, and undefined, but she was certain that it was a mailbox. She recognized the high, narrow post, with the rectangular fixture secured on top. Seeing this her eyes felt heavy, and she began to cry. Her tears had long-since dried up, leaving only a faint trace of a tear to roll down her tattered cheek, and there was a deep ache within the cavity, but she was certain that she had found what she had been so desperately seeking. It was all clear now. She was surely in town, on the street near houses. She did not know what house, and in all actuality, a reality she did not wish to admit to herself, she was not even sure it was Hannisburg, but she knew it was better than what she had come from. It was not until this newly found rapture that she could once again feel the burning scars in her torso surge through her body, and she cramped down reflexively.

—–And that’s when she noticed it. The moisture whelming over her eyes had faintly cleared her vision, and from the corner of her eye there was a figure. She slowly raised her line of vision upward, and caught what she had so desperately saught for so long… and at the same time, the very thing that horrified her the most. The figure of a girl, all though it was dark and blurred, stood firm in front of her, only a few feet away. Her body began to once again quiver, and she felt her eyes lock securely onto the young female’s own sight. A tension formed, and she wanted to scream, but her throat had become far too parched to even attempt such things. In these conditions, it felt as though her very tissue make shred itself if she tried. So she remained still, in a trance, beginning for some form of resolution.

~

—–Her body surged in a sensation which could only be described as entrancing. The tensing muscles of her body writhed forward in convulsion, and her head pressed back. The whites of her eyes, and nothing more, became visible to the world. A gasp, long kept beneath her heavy breathing, escaped from between her luscious lips, and she curled up to roughly kiss her lover. His arms so passionately held her closely to him, and as he bucked his hips into her heated abdomine in a manner of deep lust and sacred love, her eyes once more rolled back, and she found herself rocking her hips towards his rhythmatically. His skin was so soft, and yet so comforting, much like the suprisingly gentle touch which opposed the powerful thrusts he gave her. She felt Heaven and Earth swirl around her, and soon felt her body lift into the skies. Their hot, lustful bodies rammed together forcively, and they began to moan out steadily.

—–Lowering her gently onto her back, Erika grasped Adra’s hips and thrust them up towards her chest, pressing his weight down against them. A loud moaning could be heard as he began to pound downward into the hot opening of his fragile lover, and beneath his breath he felt a smile remain on his lips. Her beautiful eyes, hidden by her tightly consealing eyelids, cursed him, and yet he felt a deep blessing as he knew of the bliss she was receiving. Gasping out, he felt himself begin to build heavily as her sensitively womanly prison convulsed and tightened around his hard shaft, and his thrusts began to quicken. A loud pair of moans echoed through the bedroom, and as they released themselves in unison, their motions slowed, Adra’s legs were released, and the controlling lover gently laided down just beside her, pulling her close in a secure embrace.

—–They lay silent for what felt as an hour of paradise, and gently drifted into sleep.

~

—–Within the dark corner of the small dwelling could be seen a tiny, quivering form. Curled up tightly within his own arms sat Azrael, the torn and withered boy that had once been so safe. His life had never been happy, but his sister was deeply loving, and anything, no matter how terrible it was, could be put behind him when she was nearby. She, however, was not here, and he was alone. The Dark One who, just a short time ago, had caused him such torments was gone now, but he did not feel at peace. It was all too much, too horrible to handle, and as the tears he had so long desired to release welled up, for the first time, he began to sob. And with that he knew his only release from these events.

—–Azrael curled his arms tightly to himself, laid his head softly against the old inner-wall of the structure, and let the darkness settle in. In a matter of an hour, Azrael was free from his sufferage. His veins, which had been such a boil, began to cool, his nerves settled into a numbing sensation, and his breath fell short. All though he knew his pains would soon be gone, he was horrified at the same time. And with this instant, his heart came into a hault, his lungs ceased to pump oxygen, and existance for Azrael Garbyn came to an end.

—–Abrupting the solitude of the desolate cabin, the limp arm of the lifeless figure fell to the floor, and the shard of wood, stained in a deep, red substance which had just a moment ago rested against the boy’s torn wrist, slipped quietly through his fingers.

~

—–A myriad of sound burst from the doorway as the hard-wood struck the outer side of the house, etching a hairline scrape in the all ready shabby paint. Lendon’s burning eyes gazed out hypnotically, his hand still resting tense upon the door, and his breath escaped quite audibly, amplifying the appearance of his heavily heaving chest. How!? It had been such a long time, and he was certain that she was gone, and yet, there she stood out upon the road. His entire perception of reality began to crumble, and the strong-hearted Lendon felt his feet lift and twirl beneath him, and just as quickly as he had rushed out, he had disappeared within the house once more.

—–The figure was so horrific, and yet, at the same time, saddening. While she could not move from paralysis, she desired to run out and embrace the pathetic figure. If this truly was who she thought it to be, then life in Hannisburg may become much stranger indeed. Molly felt a gentle tear flow down her cheek, and then another, and soon her fears had left her, and only her concern remained. Using all her might she propelled herself across the grass yard toward Amy, and just as she reached out to grasp her a horror far greater than she had imagined pulsed through the air.

—–A splatter of blood struck her warm, smooth skin. Nearly stumbling, her paralyzed muscles froze her in place, and as the realisation which had dawned a hope upon her struck her, she felt her body become, limp. The hard caps of her knees pounded onto the soft, green grass, and her body gently slumped. Her eyes, once again filled in tears, gazed up at the fresh cavity in Amy’s chest.

~

—–For just a moment, the miserable girl simply stood there, but steadily she tilted her head downward, saw the numbing hole in her flesh, and collapsed. The last thing she saw was the horrid face of a terrified young girl bounding towards her, and then the horrible face in a dark enterance way of the one who had done so much to her, and had, at last, finished his job. The bullet should have burned, but instead, she felt nothing as she lay on the pavement. A white light whelmed over her. Was this Heaven? No… there was no Heaven. She knew now, more than she could have ever known in life, that there is nothing better. The only light here was the blinding sun, shining so heavily down upon her.

~

—–Was it true? Had he actually done what he thought he had? Lendon stood frozen in the doorway, his outstretched arm still lifted high, his finger tense upon the cold trigger. It had been so long, he had assumed he had forgotten, but then again, how can you know if you remember something if you never give it any thought? Remaining stern and confident, he lowered the lethal weapon to his side, turned partially, and tossed it upon the couch of the living room. Torture was one thing, but murder was another. Yet, he was certain of what he had to do.

—–The only question was… how would he deal with Molly?

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