Dust (Of Dust and Darkness) (5 page)

             
My head feels woozy, and
a sudden wave of nausea overcomes me. I fall to my knees, cutting them once more,
surely bruising them,
and my chest dry heaves a few times, my stomach too empty to oblige. It’s painful, and exhausting. My body crumbles to the rocky floor. I’m so tired. And my wings hurt.

             
But I have to get out. Where ever I am, I have to get out. I extend my arms and try to push myself up but the dizziness triumphs over me once more.
I collapse again,
this time smacking my head on a jagged protuberance from the rocky ground. I moan weakly as sharp, piercing pains radiate from the side of my head.

My body aches and releases a long groan as I rise off my stomach. It’s still black. And cold. My wings still hurt but not as bad as last time…whenever that was. My face isn’t wet so I guess the pain wasn’t as excruciating while I was passed out this time. My stomach really hurts though. Like
really
hurts. It’s roaring and ripping me a new one for forgetting about it. I didn’t eat much the day I was taken and nothing since.

             
I shuffle my body backwards inch by inch until I’m leaning against the wall. As rocky as it is, I’ve found a niche that doesn’t dig into my
aching spine
. As my head lay sideways along the wall, my ears pick up a slight humming noise. It’s constant and almost soothing, but it’s not enough to deter my thoughts. A few tears descend because I’m not sure what to do. I suspect I’ve been dumped in a hole somewhere with damaged wings. No, not just damaged. I fear they’ve been broken. Or maybe the metal strapped to their base adds enough weight to make them feel broken. Either way, the slightest movement is painful. I never found my satchel so I have no pixie dust to help me. I suppose I could keep calling out, but I have serious doubts I’ll find a friendly creature within earshot. And I suppose I could try to climb, but without the tiniest smidgen of light, I have no idea how to scale the wall, or how far up I’ll have to go. And if I fall…

             
I
shake my head of the thought and i
nstead
,
I try to assess my injuries in the dark. Injured wings, obviously. There’s a tender spot near my left temple that definitely has a nasty bruise. So much of my skin is burning from
an
infinite
number of
scratches
,
but none feel too serious. Except this one spot on my neck where I think that stinger pierced me, or most likely, a dart.

             
A dart. Someone actually did this to me. Was it a pixie? A faery? A sprite? I just don’t understand who. Or why. What did I do to deserve this? I’ve never hurt or angered anyo
ne. I may be a little more free-
spirited than my fellow pixies, but I always obey the elders and do what is expected of me. So what I have done wrong that karma put me here?

             
I sit alone in the darkness shivering, arms wrapped tightly around my waist, with tears burning behind my eyes as they fight to escape my tense, aching body.

Everything hurts. Just the slightest touch on my skin makes me wince. My mouth is dry and sticky, and my lips are crusting over. I try to lick them with my tongue, but the effect is like rubbing sandpaper on rock. I’m nauseous but I’m not sure if it’s because I haven’t eaten in a few days, or if it’s from the fecal matter I had to leave unburied in this rock prison.

             
I had hopes that my eyes would adjust to the darkness, but even after the days I know I’ve spent here, I still see nothing. Absolutely nothing. I’ve been staring upwards for about an hour now – and I’ve got the kink in my neck to prove it – hoping that the tiniest sliver of light would give me an indication of how high these walls are. I’ve decided to climb. I know it’s stupid, what with my weakened state of mind and body. I’ll probably fall and damage myself beyond repair, or worse, to my death. But I fear I’ve been left here to rot until I’m ashes and bones, so I’m starting to think I’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Even if it means suffering from a fall.

             
It’s a slow climb to my feet.
Slow and steady wins the race, Rosalie.
I stumble along the wall feeling for peaks large enough to support my feet and hands. There aren’t many to choose from. Whoever chose this hole did so for a reason. It’s practically inescapable. My head is pounding and I feel my eyes go in and out of focus even though there’s nothing to focus on. I decide on a spot and inhale a deep breath to calm my nerves, because I’m pretty sure this won’t end positively. But I can’t leave this world thinking I did nothing to save myself. I can’t be the pixie that just waits in a hole to die.

             
I reach up and pull on a rocky protuberance. I’m quick to find support for my foot because I know I don’t have the strength to hold my body up with my arms alone. Quite frankly, I don’t even trust my legs at this point. I hold my body flush against the wall as best I can and slowly extend my right arm up, feeling for the next rock to grasp. There isn’t one. I sigh and rest my forehead against the wall as my right arm comes down and my left goes up. It’s not until my arm is extended above me that I find one. I don’t like the idea of pulling with my weak arm at such a great distance, but I have no choice. I reach down and pat the wall for something to step on that’s within reach of my feet. I only find one spot that may work, so I propel my body upwards and step on the rock before I can talk myself out of going. My movement is shaky at best, and there’s only room for my left foot on the bump
,
so my right is left dangling lifelessly along the wall.  I manage to climb
about
three feet up the wall before I get stuck. There’s nothing within reach for my hands and the only step available for my feet is quite a stretch. I’ll have to go back a step and try to climb sideways.

             
I sigh my disappointment. My support leg is really shaking. I’m not sure how much longer it can hold. My right leg is scanning the wall for a place to stand when a huge muscle spasm attacks my left calf. I scream and try to switch my left out for my right, but there isn’t enough room on the rock. My right foot slips trying to find ground and I can’t stop gravity from taking me.
             

             
As hard as I try, I can’t get my body to turn
in the air
. The steel attached to my back is determined to beat me to the ground, and the weight of my body lands heavily upon my wings, which crunch upon impact. The pain is instantaneous and radiates throughout my body in quick waves, but I’m so stunned my lungs have yet to expand and allow me to scream in agony. My entire body shake
s violently
, then spasm
s
. I scream, but my throat is so dry the only audible sound I make is a dire whisper. I’m so exhausted and damaged all I can really produce is a pathetic whimper for this massive amount of pain. But even in this painful state, I’m still able to cry. Of course nothing comes out anymore, but I cry nonetheless, because I know I’m going to die here. In a dark hole. All alone.

My body lay
askew
on the ground sideways, my wings a broken twisted mess. I’m not sure if they’ll ever fully heal, but I doubt they’ll be given the chance anyway.

             
“Until then, just swing on the willowy tree.” I’ve been singing this over and over again for the past few hours. I use the term singing pretty loosely, as it’s more of a hum since my throat is so parched. I can’t seem to remember the rest of the song, or what it’s even about. But I keep singing.

My singing has finally stopped, but that doesn’t keep the humming from continuing on inside my head. My body has gone numb and refuses to move at this point. My stomach has long since given up on me so it doesn’t bother me with hunger requests anymore. My ear is flush with the ground so all I hear is that strange humming noise inside the cave
, which incidentally, now seems to hum along with the tune repeating in my head
. It soothes me in a strange way, and I know it’ll probably be the last sound I ever hear. As if that realization isn’t dreadful enough, my eyes begin playing tricks on me. It’s a cruel hallucination to show me a faint yellowish glow now that I’m knocking on Father Time’s door. My head won’t budge, and looking out the corner of my eye gives me an intense headache. To add insult to injury, the glow grows larger and larger as it descends into my prison, blinding me, finally
its metal canister
clinking on the rock beside me. Like a moth to a flame, it’s all I can focus on, and I fear the end has come.
“Father Time?” I try to ask, but it comes out as a garbled whisper. Has the last grain of sand in my personal hour glass finally fallen?

I feel a rough
, pointed
nudge
in
my side and hear the words, “We may have left this one too long. Maybe we should just leave it.”

             
I know I should care what the voices above me are saying, but I can’t stop admiring the flame before me, tumbling around in its glass lantern, as much a prisoner as I am. I desperately want to reach out and touch it, to free it, and my fingers begin to twitch with anticipation.