Infinitus Mortalis

I want this to be something dark, poetic in it's meaning but harsh in delivering it. I want this to feel like falling down a hill, gaining speed while descending deeper until you hit a wall. The story itself is a journey of one man in a strange place as he tries to reclaim his memories, and then, eventually, his sanity.

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2. II

Fields of swaying golden wheat flowed against a warm summers breeze, flower meadows blooming trees also stretched for as far as the eye could see. A hand reached down to stroke the crops, his hand on his crops. He knew this, he could feel it in the warmth. Familiar.

Swarms of bees danced among the wild flowers that dotted themselves in various patches, the noise of chaotic life filled the warm air. And he breathed. He breathed and it rejuvenated him. The air was thick and tasted of pollen and cut grass. Then the sun now, glorious and replenishing, shone down it's holy rays and brought with it heat. 

But as he looked on, nestling under the shade of a tall Yew tree, something changed. The amber waves turned brown and dead. Cherry blossom that once floated along on the breeze combusted into embers. There was heat, too much heat. Unbearable now was the heat and the sense of dread. He grasped the hilt of his sword on instinct but let go suddenly. His fleshy palms scarred and blistered open holding his weapon. The heat now mixed with the air entered the mans lungs and torched him from inside. His skin boiled and melted away. The fields suddenly were ablaze in a ferocious swathe of writhing flames. Distant screams. "Gwen!"

"Gwen!" Roach roared in the dark, falling forward out from under his cover and landed on jagged rocks. His forearms bracing his fall were cut and bleeding, the polluted rain entered his wounds and made them burn. 

Zeke stood on, watching. A glint in his eye was masked by the omnipresent darkness. "Gwen?" He enquired. 

Roach remained on the ground, the heavy rain pounding at his weak body forcing him lower. "A dream. More of a nightmare actually."

"There are no nightmares when you are already in one. And no one here is deserving enough to have dreams," Zeke said. "It appears you are remembering, and sooner than I thought."

Roach, kneeling, held out his hands in front of him, but saw only a vague outline. "Curses! I need light. I'm tired of this constant shadow."

"You get used to it. But, the light you seek is close. We aren't far now." Zeke began walking again, further into the crevice, leaving Roach to pick himself up, his arms still burning.

The remainder of the journey went by in silence. Zeke kept to himself some yards ahead, now unconcerned with the shadows high above them, still trailing the duo in their efforts. Their presence as irritating as the rain, but thankfully just as deadly. Roach meanwhile strained himself to try to remember his vision. The fields, the fire, Gwen. Whoever she was, Roach wasn't certain. A moment came to him some time later as to why he was trusting this man. He had never thought about it until now, he just blindly followed. But there were so many unanswered questions, but Roach surmised that he was his only way to find the answers. A dangerous gamble, he thought. 

The path began to break away as more and more large boulders stood in their way. They seemed to rise upwards like steps. Following Zeke's lead they climbed them; their hands slippery and sore. Roach tried to maintain an eye on the black silhouette in front of him, keeping closely to Zeke's path up the rocks. But suddenly he lost sight of him. Blind and alone Roach still climbed, pursuing his guide whom he hoped would show up any minute. He reach out his hand to grasp yet another jagged rock, but managed to hold on to only air. And once again found himself falling forwards. Tumbling and spinning as his already weakened body was thrown against the rocks below. 

When it was over, and when Roach was throughly broken, a helpful hand grasped his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. Before him stood the black silhouette of Zeke, but behind him shone shafts of grey light as they broke their way through the rocks at the end of the crevice. The light blinding the wounded man who had never seen anything more beautiful.

"Come," Zeke said. "We have arrived."

Though the man's breath made Roach almost sick, they were still the sweetest words he had ever heard. 

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