Just Breath

The air was thin. Too thin. It left me gaping like a carp above its pond.

The mountain was high. Yet, too short. I could have travelled further.

At the top, I peered at a circle of tall, rectangular boulders with edges smoothed from time. In the center of it was a stain of dry animal blood. Different tribal groups used to perform sacrifices to their gods up here all the time. Usually animals like lambs or goats. Sometimes humans.

Their history was lost for over half a millenium. But, as a historian, it was my job to rediscover it.

Slowly, I climbed over a mount of rocks to the center of the circle. “Ow.” I whispered to myself.

Gazing down at my left hand, I noticed a small gash. Must have cut myself on the rocks. I clasped my hand tight and held it to my chest.

I stared at the stones’ carvings, memorized. Such intricate work. Must have taken several years without the proper tools. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine it. Sweat dripping off my forehead as I furrowed my eyes and tried to aim the chisel and hammer…

My hand filled with blood.

“Crap.” I murmured. This was going to cut my trip short. Didn’t want to risk infection.

A drop of blood fell from my hand and splattered on the sacrifice circle. As I applied pressure to the wound, I scrambled for the exit. Just as I was about to cross out of the circle, a strong gust of wind pushed me back. Back into the center.

I groaned and walked back to the edge when a voice called out to me. “It’s been a while.”

My eyes widened. I thought was alone up here. Slowly, I pivoted around to see a small child in a dress made of silk and feathers. “Who… who are you?”

“Who am I?” She echoed. “My real name is gone. Lost in a sea of lies. Who I am might as well be who you say I am. So tell me, girl, who am I?”

“I—I don’t know.”

At first, I thought she might be some kind of god, but I’ve studied ancient religions for the past six years, but I couldn’t piece together who this girl was.

“You’re not a god.” I cautiously answered. “But you’re not a human.”

“But who am I?”

I bit down on my nail. Come on, Meredith, think! You’re standing in the middle of an ancient sacrificial altar, who would be here? If not the god they pray to, then…

“You’re Death.”

“Perhaps.” She began to approach me. “But what constraint does death have if one never… ” She grazed my cheek gently with the tip of her finger. “Truly lives? So tell me, girl, is there truth in death? Or do the lies only become stronger?”

Hours later, I awoke in my bed in a cold sweat. My head swirled, and I began to doubt the reality of the whole ordeal. “Must have been a dream.” I muttered. “Or a nightmare.”

But the fresh scar on my left hand begged to differ.

I stared down at it. “What the fUC—”