Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) - By Devon Ashley Page 0,31
not even realize it? How can someone lose that much time without the slightest idea?
When I ask Willow about it, she looks at me like I’m an idiot.
I feel so lost. Maybe even a little broken. There’s this fear eating me up from the inside out that I’ll never leave this place. Maybe that’s why I’m blacking out. Maybe my mind is trying to protect me from the emotional trauma I’m on the verge of encountering.
Please, Mother Nature. Please. Send someone to save me. Anyone.
“What?” I whine, my hand reaching out to stop the foot digging hard into my side. I’m too weak to actually stop it so I’m grateful the foot’s owner stops on their own.
“Would you please stop?” Willow. Her voice comes off as tired and whiney as mine.
I groan, rolling from my stomach to my left side. “Stop what? You’re the one kicking me!”
“You keep singing in your sleep.”
Dumbfounded, my head rocks side to side. “I’m what? What am I singing?”
“I don’t know,” she says, moaning the last word for dramatic effect. “By the sound of it, neither do you.” Her eyes close and her palms go up in the air and bounce with each word, “Please. Just. Stop.”
I huff. “I’m sorry. I’ll try.”
My right hand goes to my forehead as she makes her way back to her side of the pit. Even if I was singing, I’m surprised she heard it way over there. I stroke my eyebrows outward in. I release a heavy sigh and my arms fall lifelessly back to the ground.
The sky is really dark so sunrise is still a ways off. As I lay there in the stillness of the night, tears make their way down my cheeks and splash to the parched earth beneath me. That’s funny; I didn’t even feel my eyes swell or the muscles around my eyes tighten. Come to think of it, I don’t feel my stomach processing my dinner or my feet aching either. I didn’t even feel the tension in my head, but I found it necessary to stroke my eyebrows absentmindedly. Am I really that out of it? I hope not. I don’t want to be here, to know what I know and see what I see, but I don’t want to become one of the lifeless pixies around me even more.
But what if it’s something I can’t stop?
Today was hard on my body. Really hard. My bowl of mash sits beside my sprawled out body, still full because I have no desire to touch it. There’s been a constant numbness in my forehead all day. Like I’m on the verge of a headache that never comes.
A storm is coming; at least for the opposite side of the canyon. No matter what seems to happen over there, it never ever happens here. Rain never comes to quench the thirst of the land, wind never brings scents or pollens, animals never travel through, birds never nest. I can’t remember the scent of rain anymore. As much time as I spent atop the canopy of our Hollow, how can I possibly forget that? I remember it has earthy smells; I just can’t remember the exact scent or the taste of rain on my tongue.
Gentle hands graze the side of my body.
“Don’t give up on me, Rosalie.” It was a slow recognition but my head finally lifts toward Juniper. “Look deep within yourself. You’ll find the strength to see yourself through this.” I sigh, lift my upper body off the ground and place my chin atop my knees. She softly massages the back of my head, and although it feels good, my head feels heavier and groggier than ever. “Don’t allow yourself to fall into despair like the others.”
I lay my head sideways on my arm and glance around at the others. They’re quiet, dazed. They almost seem numb. “Why not? Why can’t I just zone out and forget too?”
“Because you’re stronger than that.”
“I’m not that strong,” I mutter. “Definitely not compared to most of the pixies back home.”
Juniper pulls her hand away – strange that I immediately feel a sense of loss – and sits down beside me. Her joints are stiff and her movement shaky, so she uses my shoulder to support herself to the ground. “I meant you’re strong of mind, strong-willed. I knew it the moment I learned you survived the additional day in the hole. You’re a fighter, Rosalie. A survivor. And I need you to stay that way. To step up