Snippets

Snippet #17

Found something I wrote a few years back in an old notebook- thought I'd share it.

~~~

The rain came down like the arrows on a battlefield, slicing everything in its path. The only sound in the air was the roar of the thunder which concealed the screams of the people running from shelter to shelter, praying to every God they could think of. Lightening flashed everywhere as it burned down everything that stood between it and the cold hard ground.

Yet the woman walked with ease and grace as if she were only taking a stroll in her garden. Her footsteps were as light as feathers, silent and calm. Her face was covered by the hood of her dark cloak that blended into the night. She carried a simple wicker basket in slightly trembling hands; the only indication that she might be affected by the raging storm around her.

Too preoccupied with the need for their safety, nobody took any notice of the woman. She walked amongst them as a measly shadow following its master.

She came to a stop in front of a small cottage. The only unharmed shelter in the area, and yet lightning didn't strike anywhere near it. No, the lightning struck around it, almost like a barrier protecting the cottage from the outside world. Raising one of her hands, the woman hesitantly knocked on the door.

--- 

The dark-haired woman sat in front of the fire, reading, without a care about the storm that went on just outside her door. Her finger slowly traced the words on the book as her pitch black eyes followed in tow. The woman would've been gorgeous, a marveling beauty even, if it weren't for the scar that ran down the middle of her face.

The fire dimmed and the woman squinted her eyes to clear the blurring words, when she heard a knock on the door. Thinking it was just another beggar searching for a shelter from the storm, she ignored the sound and brought her focus back to her book. Yet the knocking wouldn't stop. Annoyed, the woman got up and walked up to the door, ready to tell whoever it was to scram. She only made it halfway when she realized. The knocking was in a pattern. A code. Their code.

She hurried toward the door and opened it, revealing a cloaked woman, dry despite the storm. The other's name spilled out from the lips of each, a silent whisper carried away with the wind. The woman raised the wicker basket she held in her hand and placed it in the hands of the figure at the door, who took it without a word, still stunned by the appearance of the woman in front of her. Staring at her as if she were a ghost.

"Take care of her." With these words the cloaked figure turned around. She walked away, once again becoming one with the night. Leaving no trace of her presence, except for the wicker basket now in the hands of the dark haired woman. 

Hurriedly, she closed the door and rushed to the small table in the center of the cottage. She placed the basket on the table and removed the tiny blue blanket covering it, revealing a small baby no older than just a few weeks. The woman stared at the baby, a small crease forming between her brows. It was only when she locked eyes with the tiny baby in the basket that she knew. The baby left in her care was by no means normal. No, in her hands, had been left the fate of the world.

~~~