Post by Croatia on Apr 12, 2011 0:09:38 GMT -6
In the distance, a bomb went off, momentarily staining the starless black sky with a violent orange light. Dusty smoke settled in the air, leaving a camouflage of grey filth. Debris fluttered down from the sky like an acid summer rain. Screams rang out as a morbid chorus of the frightened. Children wept their fear to all who were listening.
Jelena ran through the chaotic streets, pushing passed the gathering crowds of weeping women running through the streets seeking shelter from the invaders. The woman’s boots thudded as they padded against the hard cobblestone path. She stole past buildings burning with the very fires of hell itself. Foundations collapsed, windows melted and with every gust of hot dry air, the fires expanded, devouring more of the town.
She turned down a wide back alley, a route used sparingly on the odd occasion that a lorry would load up merchandise from behind the department store. She skidded to a halt to regain her breath, clutching her gun tightly against her chest. There was a shriek on the street perpendicular, but she couldn't bring herself to look. This was all out war. She couldn't be weak. Not now. Something fell from the sky, hitting her hard in the head, She fell for a moment, yelping, then examined the object from her place on the ground. A shoe. But something was inside it....
Jelena clenched her gun tighter and sat up, backing away from the wretched object before her and vomiting on the mud-soaked ground. There, now she would be stronger. She had to be stronger. There was another rush of flames, drowning out the sounds of pleas for help and the sound of heavy footsteps. Jelena got to her feet and ran.
The destruction upon the town was horrendous. Buildings that had stood erect for decades were now nothing more than rubble and scrap metal. Foundations were ablaze, coughing up smoke into the atmosphere. All around, people were running from the strangers who appeared in black garb and began terrorizing a once peaceful city. She was supposed to be protecting it. She was failing.
After nearly a quarter of an hour of running though the dangerous, infiltrated streets, Jelena paused to regain her breath. Her lungs felt as though they were filled with water, her sides had cramped and her arms were numb from gripping the gun too tightly. She blinked a few times to clear vision that had begun to turn black. Where were her soldiers? Was she the only one left? Perhaps this was her fate. God was punishing her for her past sins.
At once the sky became silver with smouldering dust. Burning pieces of wood rained from the heavens. A few feet away, a wooden cross fell to the floor, charred and broken.
Jelena paled and then fell to her knees, head bowed down low, her hands making the sign on the cross. “Zdravo Marijo,” she whispered. Hail Mary.
Across the streets, Sisters sobbed. “The church! The church! They bombed the church. Oh, gracious Lord, forgive us their sins. Save us from the hell raining upon us! Bring back peace, oh Lord! Oh Savior!”
Breath short, Jelena stood and ran once more. Her mind reeled at the very thought of it. They were all doomed, because of her. Because of what she had done. God was not going to save them, he was going to destroy them. And there was nothing she could do. Despite herself, her lips formed a prayer.
"Zdravo Marijo, milosti puna, Gospodin s tobom, blagoslovljena ti medju ženama i blagoslovljen plod utrobe tvoje, Isus. Sveta Marijo, Majko Božja, moli za nas grešnici sada i na času smrti naše. Amen.*" She slid behind a building, waiting for what seemed like hours.
Above, the vultures began to fly into the carnage, despite the heat of the flames, smelling the dead meat of the fallen.
Jelena awoke in a cold sweat, flying upwards in her bad, feeling as if someone had their hands around her throat, air slipping down her throat only briefly in ribbons. When she calmed, she kicked the sheets off and slipped into the first articles of clothing she could reach, running outside. No breakfast, no coffee, all she needed to do was run. Run run run, away from all she wanted to leave behind.
When she finally stopped, it was bright out and sunny, something she appreciated a bit. But not much. Sweat beaded and dripped from her forehead, diving off the tip of her nose. She gasped for breath, slipping onto a bench. Her mind was too exhausted to think. Good. But her body was too exhausted to keep moving. Damn.
*Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
Jelena ran through the chaotic streets, pushing passed the gathering crowds of weeping women running through the streets seeking shelter from the invaders. The woman’s boots thudded as they padded against the hard cobblestone path. She stole past buildings burning with the very fires of hell itself. Foundations collapsed, windows melted and with every gust of hot dry air, the fires expanded, devouring more of the town.
She turned down a wide back alley, a route used sparingly on the odd occasion that a lorry would load up merchandise from behind the department store. She skidded to a halt to regain her breath, clutching her gun tightly against her chest. There was a shriek on the street perpendicular, but she couldn't bring herself to look. This was all out war. She couldn't be weak. Not now. Something fell from the sky, hitting her hard in the head, She fell for a moment, yelping, then examined the object from her place on the ground. A shoe. But something was inside it....
Jelena clenched her gun tighter and sat up, backing away from the wretched object before her and vomiting on the mud-soaked ground. There, now she would be stronger. She had to be stronger. There was another rush of flames, drowning out the sounds of pleas for help and the sound of heavy footsteps. Jelena got to her feet and ran.
The destruction upon the town was horrendous. Buildings that had stood erect for decades were now nothing more than rubble and scrap metal. Foundations were ablaze, coughing up smoke into the atmosphere. All around, people were running from the strangers who appeared in black garb and began terrorizing a once peaceful city. She was supposed to be protecting it. She was failing.
After nearly a quarter of an hour of running though the dangerous, infiltrated streets, Jelena paused to regain her breath. Her lungs felt as though they were filled with water, her sides had cramped and her arms were numb from gripping the gun too tightly. She blinked a few times to clear vision that had begun to turn black. Where were her soldiers? Was she the only one left? Perhaps this was her fate. God was punishing her for her past sins.
At once the sky became silver with smouldering dust. Burning pieces of wood rained from the heavens. A few feet away, a wooden cross fell to the floor, charred and broken.
Jelena paled and then fell to her knees, head bowed down low, her hands making the sign on the cross. “Zdravo Marijo,” she whispered. Hail Mary.
Across the streets, Sisters sobbed. “The church! The church! They bombed the church. Oh, gracious Lord, forgive us their sins. Save us from the hell raining upon us! Bring back peace, oh Lord! Oh Savior!”
Breath short, Jelena stood and ran once more. Her mind reeled at the very thought of it. They were all doomed, because of her. Because of what she had done. God was not going to save them, he was going to destroy them. And there was nothing she could do. Despite herself, her lips formed a prayer.
"Zdravo Marijo, milosti puna, Gospodin s tobom, blagoslovljena ti medju ženama i blagoslovljen plod utrobe tvoje, Isus. Sveta Marijo, Majko Božja, moli za nas grešnici sada i na času smrti naše. Amen.*" She slid behind a building, waiting for what seemed like hours.
Above, the vultures began to fly into the carnage, despite the heat of the flames, smelling the dead meat of the fallen.
Jelena awoke in a cold sweat, flying upwards in her bad, feeling as if someone had their hands around her throat, air slipping down her throat only briefly in ribbons. When she calmed, she kicked the sheets off and slipped into the first articles of clothing she could reach, running outside. No breakfast, no coffee, all she needed to do was run. Run run run, away from all she wanted to leave behind.
When she finally stopped, it was bright out and sunny, something she appreciated a bit. But not much. Sweat beaded and dripped from her forehead, diving off the tip of her nose. She gasped for breath, slipping onto a bench. Her mind was too exhausted to think. Good. But her body was too exhausted to keep moving. Damn.
*Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
