The Masters

   In a horrid place, whence not but filth comes forth; where dark times and evil men steal souls, our tale begins. A child, but nine years old, knowing nothing save this wretched suffering, walks among the trees. Her feet are bare, and the golden strands of her windswept hair graze her shoulders. She pulls a tattered shawl tight around her body as she tries desperately to cover her tracks with each footstep. She remembers the faces of her sisters, whose souls had already been forfeit. Their blank stares and empty gazes haunt her dreams. Her fate has yet to be decided, but the masters had not broken her. Her soul remains intact. Its space held firm by an unwavering strength and will to endure. The horrors visited upon her had not drained her of life or spirit, she used them as fuel, igniting her courage.

   She’d fled in the night, she was fleeing still. She knew not where to go, or if safe harbor existed, she knew only she had to run. If sanctuary survived somewhere beyond, she must find it. Hope and light had forsaken her home long ago, so in the dark and against all odds she makes her way through the forest. She will journey only at night, for in the light of day the masters roam, presenting their crooked and deceitful ways like badges for all to see. In the morning her absence will be discovered, and the masters will use all at their disposal to find her. Man, woman, child, and beast will be let loose to seek her out.

   As night begins to give way, she finds in the present haven of forest, a dragon’s blood tree. Hundreds of branches stretch outwards and upwards toward the dawning sky. Reaching above, the branches intertwine but are fixed in each their own place, as if thrust into the trunk by Zeus's bolt. The tree offers protection in the form of a giant hollow. The entrance shows itself underneath a massive root, half growing out from the earth. There is room enough for a small body to huddle against the innards of the tree. It’s here she takes refuge from the coming daylight. If she remains undiscovered, she will travel again after dusk. Though the space provides her with shelter, it cannot provide rest. She knows well that which pursues her, and her distress makes for disturbed and anguished sleep. Dark dreams offer no comfort, nor visions of goodness, for she has known neither. With a palpitating heart and a quickened breath, her weary body leeches what rest it can from this uneasy state, until she is awakened fully by the sound of dogs.

To Be Continued...