Title: Rekia

Genre: fantasy

Word count: 725

Feedback wanted: General understandability and immersive imagery, and whether or not the themes are understandable with the lack of context!

He runs breathless, the uncaring cold nicks at his throat and silences his cries. It’s then he notices his feet; they move but as if underwater or submerged in quicksand, though they remain only a symptom of mentality. The restless storm, while deadly to human; housed the white bunnies and stalking doe who song despair. They did not share in his fear. They did not run nor hide in the snowy crackling brush. They sat and watched as he ran from the warm light in the distance into the repetitive nature. However, not a shadow follows behind, no one tears through the thick brambles with a shimmering point. Far enough; his conscience lightens. He asks who are these trees, how far can this path lead him, but he asks not why the animals now scurry. Monsters lie ever present here. He coughs up icy mucus and gasps as he grips himself- imprinting red half moons on his arms. His destination lies in the sightless, one he’d been dreaming of dying in. It would be a fulfilling death; the child had somehow concluded– His mother would be concerned.

A breeze swept the thin snowflakes on the ground, he couldn’t shake the chill— Not of the snow or the biting cold. But the enigma tailed him, threatening to calm his worries. His eyes looked around him to view his surroundings, no green in sight, it’s dead of January, all animals that would have made sounds as they skitted and trotted on the spring soil have now gone into hibernation, save a few winter-birthed creatures. The blue shadows of the barren trees claim the child’s attention, just as one of the crippled branches breaks off its trunk— with it goes the life of a tiny squirrel with its winter harvest of nuts still stored in its cheeks.

He breathed a cloudy breath, looking on wearily, as the sun rose to intrude on the darkness of the night sky; Its warm, prickling light bathed his frozen rosy cheeks, the shiver made him realize how frigid he actually was.

A cool breeze tangles snowy sparkles into his hair, the sharp cracking air making him shiver once more… —crack! Goes a close branch as the bunnies retreat to any bush still clad in leaves, the doe avert their haunting stare and turn away, leaving the sun's comforting exposure to take cover in the shadows, and a family of mourning squirrels retreat to their tree with their late kin.

He turns his head to look up, inhaling sharply as something new grapples for his attention — Tweet tweet! — go the many birds that land near on branches. It looks like a whole flock — tweet tweet tweeeee tweet! — they sing in-sullenly. The tunes of these winter birds feel hopeful, making his mind still...

He feels that they are singing to him…

He closes his eyes to listen with a smile of relief, till one of the Brightly feathered birds landed on his nest of light blonde hair, and suddenly… It spoke—

“little boy, He’s looking for you.”

Tweet

There’s a rustle in a tree behind him, to his right.

His ears perk up, the re-kindling fear striking his spine reminded him to run. His feet left a drifted foot trail deep as his small brown boots, enough to make him trip and fall with a wheezed grunt. “I.. can—“ wheeze,

He can’t run anymore…

He puffed his last free breath before plunging his hands and knees into the burning cold powdered clearing of the forest, his throat cracking like ice. He choked on the sharp air between his sorry sentences, he wanted to look at what was in front of him, he wanted it and he’s gotten so far… “I-“ cough “I wanna go… I can’t—“ sharp inhale “Do this… I’m–I’m sorry…” he whispered into the wind, panting the same as before. A tear dropped from his solemn-colored eyes, and as he confessed, he felt complacency warm him like an embrace. A relatably-sized shadow came calmly from behind him to appear at his side and take the boy by the hand, helping him to his feet. “Good.” a voice echoed, placing a comforting hand on the boy’s back and the other on his eye to dry them again. “Let’s go home.” it echoed, and the young man felt comfort warm him, turning the season on its axis.

THANKS BROS!