Ruins

She escapes.

She travels quickly through dark metal corridors past the death and decay that line the filthy, rust-ridden halls.

Her eyes search. They don’t settle on any of the scenes flying past her as she runs. They dart—frantically searching.

Her eyes find a place to land. A hole. Jagged and low on the metal wall. Through the hole she sees sunlight.

She leads with her head—eyes squeezed shut. She pushes and strains. Her shirt tears as her body pulls through. She slowly opens her eyes.

She is blinded.

Again, her vision adjusts. Her skin dances with foreign heat.

She watches the dappled light shift along the length of her arm. She doesn’t remember her skin being this fair.

She is overwhelmed—lost in the lush green world around her. The sounds are familiar; the birds are chirping, the wind is threading through the leaves, and water is rushing in the distance.

She needs water.

The sound of liquid crashing across rocks brings acute sensations to her mind. Her lips are cracked—her mouth is dry.

She startles at a sound.

Dropping to a crouch, she waits. Then, moving forward slowly, she is conscious of where she places her feet. She is careful not to make any noise.

A creature—small and quick—darts out of the brush and across the rocks and roots. She breathes, it’s only an animal.

She walks. Every step brings her closer to water. Clean water. Water that doesn’t taste like blood and iron.

She sees it.

A thin and clear stream runs blue through the rocks. It pools in level places—in others, it crashes. Here, the water lands heavily against the worn-smooth stones.

She drinks slowly at first, then desperately. The cool water quenching her vibrant thirst quickly. Moss grows bright around the edges of the pool.

She looks up, taking in her surroundings—her focus shifts.

She finds her eyes are drawn to a pattern. Rocks are stacked in places, woven throughout with dense ivy. The green fibrous vines and attached leaves suffocate the walls of smooth stone.

These are ruins.

She stands, revealing the extent of the structures. She remembers these walls, this was her home. She had laughed and played in this stream as a child.

She walks now, in a haze, seeing her memories play out before her. She sees her life—as it was before they came. As it could have been.

She hears chimes and bells. She sees her family walking carelessly through the narrow, charming alleys. She hears distant laughter.

She freezes.

She focuses, extending her perception—listening patiently—clearing her mind of memories.

She hears laughter.