Calm down, Lance begged of himself. His body was in need of guidance, his mind panicky yet knowing that it was the only thing available to give command. Dazzled, indistinctive demands blurted uncontrollably from stress and tediousness from Lance's brain, confusing the body further. Sunlight began to be confused for hurricanes; trees began to fuse with moons. Hot became cold and light churned to dark. Senses were lost, dropped from the clumsy bag. Calm down, calm down! Lance continued to command. Use your eye for detail…
With shaken, dazed hands, the trembling silver bow and arrow reflected darkness as it rose with unstableness. The pike finger held in the instrument's prowess rattled like an infant's toy. It, too, was chattering from nervousness, an anxiety never thought to exist. "You're not special…!" a fiend's raspy voice sounded from underwater as it randomly swam through the calm, murky sea of confusion.
Lance stayed alert, scared, wondering if he would get slashed up like Rick. Think, Lance, think! Calm down! He scorned himself. No, there was no time to calm. Only time for actions – and if that was the case, then actions would take place. Timing it incorrectly and wastefully, the silver fingers launched the arrow, the spinning prowess sinking into the deep green, sickening waters. It drilled a microscopic whirlpool of slicing whorls, an eye of the immobile olive opening with awake; eating at the cool, once anxious metal. Chewed up, the splicing eye returned to a calm sleep. There was no way Lance could've gotten that hit correct. A loud burst of laughter came from a direction beneath the surface. "You missed! That's why people less special like you have no use in the world!" the voice seemed to come from the crashing, hateful waves.
Full of grudge and wrath, Lance launched a second arrow quickly, this time more precise, more fixed, more expertly. The intense whirling of the arrow's head would dazzle anyone put under it, a swirling whirlwind of confusion piercing the water like a rice paper defense. The rotating, rolling silver body was connected by a limp, silver string bound to the bone, as if this Minor was going fishing. A scream was given from beneath the water from the distance. The horrid cry for help conceived a pool of red-green mixture on the olive surface. Reeling the silver string back into him, hearing the loud scuffling wires roll back in like a mechanical lasso of the west, Lance felt the heavy weight be carried in with it. He had caught a fish! And this one was big, too! He took a gasp of victorious relief as the enemy was brought to the surface, a metallic arrow glimmering in the sunlight struck through his heart. The sign of the cupid's arrow and love would never be thought of the same way again. Blank, accusing eyes stared up at Lance as the silver-haired boy dropped to the floor, plopping to the ground. His legs were weak, as if he had run miles and miles, finally attaining the taste of victory.
His choked voice through raspier, wet lips was a red liquid fount, a fount of life that painted his chin red. "How did you… someone that was not special…" The enemy asked seconds before his death. The dark, demonic green waves acted as a shroud for the approaching corpse, ready to drown and overkill the body of soulless eyes, to throttle a voiceless throat.
Taking deep breaths of release, Lance answered. "You gave away your locations with your mocking voices," Lance breathed out unsteadily. He had won the fight, so easily too, however, the fear had not washed away. I can't be scared like this all the time. I have to get used to this kind of stuff, Lance scorned. "Idiot," Lance ridiculed as the accusations of eyes withered away and sunk below, carrying the arrow with the body. Lance's arm formed and hissed and churned into its normal condition as he disconnected the wire from his fingers, taking one last exhale of long-awaited relaxation.
His normal, steady voice returning, Lance called out. "Marissa," he cried weakly. His hands support him on the ground. Marissa quickly turned, as if somewhat had caught her doing something she shouldn't have been doing. Her voice was empty as her lips' gates opened showing nothing but empty treasure, nonexistent gold, nothing of piquing interest. Eyes broadened in surprise as dryness entered her breath. Her body froze, nerves broken everywhere as her fingers carried the medicine used to treat Rick. This was her way of asking, "What?"
"Do you need help?" Lance asked voluntarily. His breathing was still somewhat broken and heavy. It took a while to bring it back to normality. His eyes closed in wanted rest, but he knew he couldn't rest. There were still things he had to take care of.
Marissa stammered uneasily, as if to fall over. "Why are you so timid all of a sudden?" Lance asked. "Loser," he mocked playfully. Marissa knew somehow that he was just joking, but her face looked hurt. She got up to her feet without thinking, her mind absent at the moment, out to lunch. She brought praying hands to her face, masking her humiliation and ran off into the trees, her golden hair swinging at her side as she ran off, realizing just how useless she was. Lance put a confused feature on his face, sighing helplessly.
Rick… Marissa thought as she ran off past the trees, the thin, dreadful bodies seeming to run past her in an unwanted feeling towards her. Thin, stretched fingers tickled the breezes that huddled past, amusingly exciting themselves, keeping their hands busy, their feet rooted to the ground in imprisonment disallowing them to move. Why am I so useless? She cried in her thoughts and into her sifting fingers. Knives of grass crunched under her sore, cold feet, as if vegetables crunched by a resistant, yet hungry baby. Their bodies were left unbent and uncared for, a trail of death Marissa left behind, a trail that seemed just too real in reality.
PoVS
Swinging from tree to tree, Daniel scanned the wide area of which the team fought in. His eyes moved left to right like an emerald volleyball being passed across the net between two skilled teams, a wrecking ball of walls to the eyes. Stopping as he brought a hand to the shoulder of a tree, Daniel put his feet on its uncaring body. The wood was damp in his fingers, a disgusting wetness molding and caking his whorled fingerprints. Teeth ground tightly, he thought. This guy's good. He can't be hit with physical attacks and on top of that, I can barely sense his aura anymore. Skilled and thoughtful perspiration fell from the redhead's tired temples. No time for rest. No time to fool around. Everything was serious – all the time. Even outside the Swamp of Mystery – everywhere and I mean everywhere!
"Got you!" a booming, godly yet ungodly voice screeched through the trees, bringing trees to their powerless knees. Limbs rustled uneasily as they praised the powerful apparition's presence. Heads tried to bow but determined spines disallowed it, causing further anger in the shrieking voice. Rattling, dreadful chains brought out the deep panic of Daniel's emotions as they torpedoed through the air, slicing them hatefully and powerfully, claiming power of it.
They targeted Kenneth, and the blue haired boy turned around too late. The shocked eyes did not freeze time like they wish they did. Oh, how this boy could freeze a ton of things, but time and life and fate remained hot, remained resistant to everything they went up against. Nor would they ever boil to a melt. "Kenneth!" Daniel cried out protectively. He had totally forgotten about his brother, and he would scold himself for that mistake afterwards. Would there be even be an afterwards? The icy-eyed Minor's feet stood frozen, ironically. His power would now be his downfall.
It would be too wasteful if he tried to go after it now. The two brothers were much too far away. Daniel had to use the last resort and be hopeful. Soul spheres shot from his back, leaving a ghastly trail of holy white. The orbs knocked the bound chained daggers and rendered them limp at a tree's knees. Slowly, they drew back into the camouflaged figure of the enemy. Daniel sighed in relief and returning comfort. "That was close," he muttered to himself.
It's him… Teresa thought, crumbled into a compacted ball at a tree's forelegs, the woody skin barely supporting her trembling layers. Teeth chattered, not only from the cold numbness, but from fearful memories of hell. It's him… he's back… Her arms wrapped tightly for lost traces warmth in her legs. Eyes wanted to close but found no energy to. They chiseled at the arctic ice around them, shuddering unsightly.
Chains rattled from invisibleness, screeching outwards into the mist. It caught Kenneth at his feet, and swung him around as if he were on the actual wheel of fortune. The chains bound him by his feet and he screamed, screamed horribly as his body was thrown against an army of trees, their heads rustling in shock and pain. "Kenneth!" Daniel called out. The redhead jumped from his place on the woody, damp tree as he rushed through the mist, feeling the tickling fingers of no privacy search him everywhere. His shuffling feet ignored the greedy, tempting fingers that tried to bring him in; beckon him into dark seduction. He picked up his glasses as his brother seemed farther and farther away at a tree's base. The mist seemed to create distance despite the frantic, needy running. Perspiration was flung away into the cold, freezing air as he ran, like tears of his skin that were shed for the unwanted droplets of eyes – a fake replacement.
Chains pierced the air once more and got Daniel at his bicep, slicing a cut on his arm. He cried out in despair, wincing as his pace stopped, feeling the chafing metal scrape against his wound, irritating it with further pain and fear. He screamed out a cold scream, unheard in the forest of hell. All protection was lost as he dropped to his knees, spitting out a shocked puddle of blood. He coughed as he screamed more and more, a broken record.
Teresa heard those screams. Somehow – someway, she heard them. The cries of hell, the cries of a darkness world. The cries of despair from far, far away inside her hypnotized trance. And those screams of her teammate churned. They churned and changed themselves into screams of a faraway memory. A hellish cry becoming another hellish cry; an activation of a pointless change. Scream after scream bulleted past her mind, and brought forth cries of her past, instead of her present. Horribly distorted, Daniel's screams of pain pulled out recollection after recollection easily, like fun-loving fingers quickly picking out nicely folded names from a wacky, purple hat as quickly as possible, a greedy child's hand searching through cereal boxes for their individual prizes, sugar coated fingers and palms staunching and scenting the air afterwards.
Crazily distorted and transformed, the memories began to play like an old, photographic video, a movie of an unwanted past:
Screams echoed underway from the cemented white walls. Dead lights flickered, as if trying to regain the hope and happiness the city had lost. Flicker once. Flicker twice. Flicker three times, until finally, it flickered none. The yellow, full moon gasped in horror, cratered mouths opening in fear as it took upon itself to watch the horror massacres below, away from the trees, away from the foresting limbs of pleads that exhaled from begging mouths, away from the tall, pillared building of happy-go lucky white, a painful tranquility. The full moon poured in a squared flood of fair light through imprisoning bars, dark shadows slicing the hopeful light in barred pieces. White walls carried the stench of over-cleanliness; bed sheets white and fluffy, supposedly comfortable pillows pale as rice paper, the only color in the room being the prisoner's streaks of natural purple hair and the dead brown of table desks and shelves, the silver of mealy trays and untouched food, collected from day after day.
Teresa crumbled in a tight, forgetting ball. Her locked arms were sore from a year and a half of a hellhole. The broad, white room was the least bit comforting yet all the while worth remembering. She backed herself into a protective corner, arms she had none, legs too weak. Purple strands of hair were at her face, and she no longer cared to brush them away. She no longer cared for material things. Her lips were tightly sealed secretly, the straight light of secretion twitching after every scream in the bloodlust night. Stars would give no hope today, she knew. The foggy, periwinkle clouds would act as a fabric coverlet over the sky, forcefully putting them to sleep, as if parental, authorized fingers creating imprisoning bars to a young one's eyes, hopefully leaving them unaware of the sexual and violent scenes displayed on the movie screen. The foggy purple clouds began to wonder why they had even brought these tiny specks of hope-giving children to watch the film of death.
Sad violet eyes of a fourteen and a half year-old wanted to fall asleep, wanted to close and seal themselves away into sadness. Her mind would not allow it. If she fell asleep for even a second, she would punish herself. She was too afraid that something would happen to her – just like the same thing that killed her bonds, killed her relations with other people. She hoped to hide herself away from the horrid yells, hoping to keep herself away from them. It would not work. The stench of hot, thick bloodlust filled even the highest of rooms in the building, driving other prisoners crazy with their own thirst of death, and driving others with fear and over accentuated faces. Biting her bottom lip, Teresa hoped to wash the fear away with pain. No matter how much she bled, in never went away. There was no sea strong enough to seep this fear away.
She thought of her friends, her friends that she had not spoken to in a year, friends that she still hopefully had relations with. She would not let herself become a lonely person with no connections. Then, she wondered what really was happening out there. Time after time, she heard a familiar cry, a strangely familiar cry at that, even though it had been so long since she had heard last from them. Just what was going on? Would she even want to know? Cracking of bone filled the air outside. Her eyes winced in hellish thoughts. She slowly brought herself to her feet. It seemed hard to even do that. Her arms felt so unbelievably uncomfortable in their prison of tight hold against her body. This damned straightjacket would never come off, and when it finally does, my arms will probably be glued together with hateful sweat, Teresa thought to herself.
Her light, uncomfortable shoes stretched as her feet had outgrown them. They paced silently across white, pale tiles of slipperiness. It was like walking on solid water, however, yet not ice. A new tile iced the bottoms of her feet as she stepped to new ones, leaving the warmth she set up in the corner die away. She peered out the window, hoping to find something. Somehow, the moonlight irritated her eyes. The yellow-green glow of widened eyes filled her eyes with dents of shine. Purple hair fixed itself.
She hoped to find some answers beyond the foresting trees below, but all she found was shaking, shameful heads. Some were calm, some were frozen in horror. Or was it all of them were frozen in horror, and in fact, shaking in horror as well? Maybe that was it. Powerful, yet to be discovered eyes peered down below and beyond the forest. Nothing remained but faraway buildings in the distance that seemed to rumble cries through the night. The large body of moon seemed to want to crash down like a hateful meteor on the city below it. Stars tried to twinkle beneath the bedcovers of misty clouds, children's innocent and curious eyes trying to peer through the filtered cracks between parents' fingers.
"What're you looking at?" a voice called out to her suddenly in the same room.
She gasped. Who was there? Who could be visiting now? She hadn't heard the door open. She hadn't sensed anyone enter. How could anyone be there? She turned her head uneasily, her violet eyes broadened and stretched with curiosity and disbelief, knowing that whoever was there, she certainly wouldn't like the presence of him or her. It was mostly him's, though. Her eyes widened even more in realization, as if possible. She tried to speak, but her voice was choked, lost. It seems that she had not forgotten anything over the years. It seemed that she remembered everything perfectly clear, as if a photograph struck through her mind with the absence of a camera. Would that be one thing gained out of this whole horrid incident back then?
"Wondering about your friends?" the voice asked.
"Y-you're…" Teresa's voice stammered. It couldn't be. Could it? Yes, it was. The same face in the "photographs." "You're…!" she couldn't complete the sentence. She really couldn't because she can't.
"Seems you still remember me after a year and a half," the voice chuckled. "I can't believe you're the first Miroku who carries its legacy to actually tell the authorities about how you saw a ghost murder your family. You know they wouldn't believe you. What were you, delusional or something?"
"You!" Teresa cried out, the only word she knew.
"Can't you say anything else? You're very boring," the apparition spoke amusingly. Crescent slits of a lunar memory of past weeks glowed and glowered meanly and ominously, eyes gleaming with an eerie yellow, just like the moon outside, which provided paints of light flashing over one side of the surprise's face. "I wonder… are you wondering about your useless bonds?" Teresa ground her teeth. "How amusing. If you desire to see your outside friends so badly, I'll give you a chance. However, I can't say that what you'll see will be pleasing – or what might happen right after." The ghost chuckled as rattling chains scraped the white, clean floor with its evil nails.
Teresa did nothing now. A chance to see… her friends? With a burst of chained daggers, the ghost swung its sleeve to the barred door and broke it open, breaking it into pieces. "Go ahead," the apparition spoke ghastly as it faded away into nothingness, leaving nothing behind but Teresa and a broken, crumbled door. The purple haired girl gulped nervously. Then, having enough, rushed out of the open portal, feeling the first bits of freedom as she ran into the hallway.
Moments later, she found herself outside past the trees and before the city. She was sandwiched between the two with no pressure. She paced through the whispering blades of grass tickling her ankles with a sense of freedom, as if trying to warn her, trying to claim her before she went inside the city, a sympathetic and gentle beckoning, an unnoticed seduction. The coldness of the night seemed new to her as she stared at the sky. It was weird to finally see it again from a different angle than those damned bars at the window. Finally, there was a land with slope; finally there was land with green and grass and life! How she loved the life around her! How she loved and bathed in her minutes of freedom! She flashed a tiny, unnoticeable smile as she gave a last second glance at the building. Hopefully, I'll find someone I know in the city and they'll take me in, and they'll hide me so I won't ever have to go back to that place, she said, her glance now shifting to a dreadful gaze at the tall white building. It looked a shadowy blue in the night. She sighed a deep sigh of relaxation, glad to breathe in the cool, in fact, cold air.
She ran off now, eagerly and hopefully through the sifting grass as she approached the buildings that always seemed so far away, a dream never achieved. But now, she stepped at the front gates of the city, and looked to the once busy and crowd-filled stores and houses, watching the dream right before she took a swim in it. Entering the gate, she wondered what so happily awaited her. Happily.