Part 2: Zenith

Hopefully you enjoyed the first installment of this story. If you haven't read it, check it out here: Part 1! I'm hoping to make these short stories into a collection. If you like my blog posts, be sure to comment, +1, and reshare! Without further ado, here's Part 2! That rhymes.


          It was midday when he saw it. That familiar glint. It was impossible to miss. As he came nearer, he heard something squelch under his shoe. He looked down to see a puddle of blood rising up around his ankles. He froze. Then, his heart pounding, he gingerly stepped out of the pool of blood and began walking, quiet as a mouse, following the bloody trail. He turned the corner. And there before him was the body of a young girl, impaled with his dagger. He couldn't believe his eyes. He hadn't even thought anyone had survived the deluge. But to find them dead, killed by his dagger? Unthinkable. With tears blurring his vision, he knelt down next to her. He touched her pale hand. It was cold as ice. A shiver ran up his spine. Gently, he touched her forehead with the back of his hand. To his surprise, it was pleasantly warm. His gaze traveled down to her heart. Something strange was going on, he could feel it. He looked closer. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand on the hilt of the dagger and wrapped his fingers around it. His knuckles turned white as he grasped the dagger. Then he pulled. Suddenly his hand slipped. He looked down in surprise. The girl's heart was beating. It was beating! But the dagger was being pulled deeper into the wound with the beating of the heart. He grabbed the hilt and began pulling, hard. His breathing labored, he struggled to prevent his hand itself being dragged into the girl's body. It was a gruesome sight, but it gave him a glimmer of hope. Finally he pulled the dagger out and collapsed on the cold, bloodied ground, panting. He closed his eyes. He no longer heard the rythmic thumping of the heart. When he had regulated his breathing once more, he opened his eyes and stood up. He returned to the side of the young girl. The dagger was in his hand, and strangely, it didn't have a trace of blood on it. The girl's wound was nearly invisible, just a thin line down her chest, silvery in color. He gazed in awe around him. There was no blood to be seen. The ground was just wet, gray stone. Suddenly, he saw the girl's eyelids flutter. A whisper of breath escaped her lips. He stared at her pretty face in disbelief. She appeared to be in some kind of entranced sleep. He held the dagger in his shaking hands. "Z.W." he breathed. Zenith Whytheblanc. He had named himself "Zenith", since he felt it gave him power. Somehow, it did. But how... He snapped out of his daydream. With a deep breath, Zenith slid his hand under the girl and placed it against the small of her back. She was surprisingly light. He placed his other hand under her knees. Slowly but steadily, he lifted her up, off the ground. Zenith walked down the alley and into the streets. He felt the girl's long brown tresses on his arm as the wind blew them to and fro. He looked down at her face. It was beautiful. Her face was small and her skin was smooth. Her nose was petite, with an aristocratic point. Her lips were perfectly rounded and parted slightly as she breathed. Zenith kept walking. After an interminable time, he felt a shadow fall over him. He looked up. The ruins of an old shed loomed up a little ways ahead of him. Zenith broke into a run. As he neared the structure, he slowed. He gently lay the girl on the ground. Zenith rose to his feet and placed his hand on the door.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Picture credit: http://lilliemcferrin.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/dark-darkness-girl-light-lost-Favim.com-118417.jpg

Part 1: The Storm

You know, I've noticed that whenever I write a dramatic/sad story, the main characters always end up in some kind of stormy, gloomy place. So here's another dramatic vocab paragraph. Part 2 coming soon! (Part 2 won't be a vocab paragraph)

          She gazed across the glassy surface of the small puddle of water. Little rivulets branched off from it and slowly evaporated. A cataclysmic storm had just passed through the valley, wiping out the town. The rain had come in torrents, and the streets had flooded. The river overflowed, bringing an abundance of water to the parched crops. But in addition to blanketing the arid landscape, the water swept away hundreds of people, leaving the city lonely, wet, and deserted. She began walking among the destroyed streets, and she felt empty inside. The deluge had taken everything from her. She wanted to sit down and cry, but she didn't have the energy. More than sad, she was absolutely indignant. How could life be so unfair? It appeared she was the only one left of everyone in their village. How was she to survive without food or companionship? Her life would depreciate until it was of no value at all. The immense gravity of the situation hit her just then, and she collapsed onto the ground, her chest heaving. Her mother, who had always blamed her for everything that went wrong, now seemed like an angel. Her father, who had left her mother two years ago, must be alive somewhere, but she didn't know where. She couldn't believe everything was gone. It had all disappeared so fast. Suddenly, she saw something glint in the distance. She began crawling towards it on all fours, breathing quietly as she came near. She gasped. It was a dagger. She picked it up and ran her fingers over the jeweled hilt. The initials ZW had been etched into the blade. There's not much point to my life, she thought to herself. The truth, like the storm, washed over her, and finally came to light. All at once, she lifted the dagger and drove it through her heart. A bloodcurdling scream split the valley as blood mingled with dirty water. Then everything was still. Absolutely still.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Picture credit: http://martinjclemens.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/rain-wallpaper1.jpg