10-07-2019, 12:42 AM
The sun glowed above her.
She swam towards its shine, breaching the water to gaze up at it, the harsh heat of the land not bothering her. She opened her mouth, covered not in fur but in smooth scaled green skin, and let out a voice, singing notes with no lyrics. It was freeing, she knew, so freeing, singing like this, singing at nothing but the sun and the birds.
And then there was a stabbing pain in her body. She looked down, and a harpoon had burst through her neck, blood coating it sparsely. She looked back up at the sun, and it was dark, the sky covered in clouds as she began being reeled, backwards, backwards, to a boat. A fishing boat of some sorts, it seemed, from the hull, from the paint on the sides. Lightning crashed behind it, basking it in an ominous glow, the shadow of it encompassing her, and she saw the people who dragged her towards her doom, and they had the face of her sisters, her mother.
When she woke up she was practically standing, fur puffed out in fear, mouth open and trying to call for help in some way, with no words coming out. Her scar hurt, it ached. She thought of the harpoon in her dream, and shivered. There would be no sleep for a long while, she told herself, in silence.
Her thoughts were quiet as she walked wherever she was going. She didn't really have a plan in mind, she just had to walk. To go somewhere. Maybe even run, if she could spare the energy - run away from the feeling of something chasing her, and that spear sticking through her once again. Her scar began to burn.
She let out a cough, hoarse, rough, one that took all the wind out of her. The moon shone high above her, far away, and she looked up at it, looking for some solace. It wasn't the sun, no, but it was still beautiful in its own right. Perhaps she could sing to it now, silently, like the night. Echo opened her mouth as if to do so, looking up and singing, so quiet you couldn't hear her, so quiet that if you put your ear right up to her mouth all you would hear was wheezing reminescent of someone with a collapsed lung.
But it gave her comfort to sing, as silly as it sounded. To pretend to sing to this thing in the sky, hanging up there, pretending to be the sun. She could relate to it very much, after all. And so she sang.
She swam towards its shine, breaching the water to gaze up at it, the harsh heat of the land not bothering her. She opened her mouth, covered not in fur but in smooth scaled green skin, and let out a voice, singing notes with no lyrics. It was freeing, she knew, so freeing, singing like this, singing at nothing but the sun and the birds.
And then there was a stabbing pain in her body. She looked down, and a harpoon had burst through her neck, blood coating it sparsely. She looked back up at the sun, and it was dark, the sky covered in clouds as she began being reeled, backwards, backwards, to a boat. A fishing boat of some sorts, it seemed, from the hull, from the paint on the sides. Lightning crashed behind it, basking it in an ominous glow, the shadow of it encompassing her, and she saw the people who dragged her towards her doom, and they had the face of her sisters, her mother.
When she woke up she was practically standing, fur puffed out in fear, mouth open and trying to call for help in some way, with no words coming out. Her scar hurt, it ached. She thought of the harpoon in her dream, and shivered. There would be no sleep for a long while, she told herself, in silence.
Her thoughts were quiet as she walked wherever she was going. She didn't really have a plan in mind, she just had to walk. To go somewhere. Maybe even run, if she could spare the energy - run away from the feeling of something chasing her, and that spear sticking through her once again. Her scar began to burn.
She let out a cough, hoarse, rough, one that took all the wind out of her. The moon shone high above her, far away, and she looked up at it, looking for some solace. It wasn't the sun, no, but it was still beautiful in its own right. Perhaps she could sing to it now, silently, like the night. Echo opened her mouth as if to do so, looking up and singing, so quiet you couldn't hear her, so quiet that if you put your ear right up to her mouth all you would hear was wheezing reminescent of someone with a collapsed lung.
But it gave her comfort to sing, as silly as it sounded. To pretend to sing to this thing in the sky, hanging up there, pretending to be the sun. She could relate to it very much, after all. And so she sang.
tags - "speech"
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