Chapter 2 - Gift of the Hills
Submitted October 2, 2006 Updated November 17, 2006 Status Complete | I really dunno. I just sat down one night and started writing the first things that came to mind...Maybe I'll continue it if enough people like it.
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Chapter 2 - Gift of the Hills
Chapter 2 - Gift of the Hills
Gift of the Hills
Tired, exhausted, out of breath, Cain fell to the soft, sweet grassy ground beneath him. The madness took over him; compelled him to run as far and quick as humanly possible. Escape tormented his mind. This same hill, that very billowing figure hovering in the sky, he had seen it all before. In fact, he perceived that they had not changed since he began his fruitless quest for emergence from the land he now lay upon.
It was then, that the notion collided with his train of thought: he had been trying too hard. Giving up was not an option, though hopeless he was, and deserved to be at this point. However, he forced himself into a state of relaxation; flinging himself into daydreams of happiness, trying to forget this blissful Hell. Would it work was definitely the question of the moment.
Against all grains of his mental capacity, Cain found the merriment of his forced visions almost painful. It surged mercilessly through his nervous system, he felt he was being torn apart by his own imagination. On one hand, he stayed locked in the hills. On the other, he flew into reckless montages of yesterdays and times he wished would come. Which would get the better of him? Or would they tear the very fiber of his being, forever scarring his mentality? He tried to scream, but wondered if he made a sound, for there were none around to hear him.
Then, as abruptly as the changes before, the scenes changed again. The earth fell away, and the blue sky melted into hardly cohesive shades of blue streaks. Now, however, he was not falling, but merely hanging, suspended by an unknown beating force pulling at his subconsciously moving shoulder blades. Then he realized something had not only changed in the surroundings, but in his physical shape as well.
He had wings, large, angelic wings that beat gracefully just so to keep him from riding gravity once more. Cain thought for a moment, but it was a moment too long. Before he could make any analysis, he merged with the melting clouds, drowning now in a sea of condensation. All about him was a fog, but the ability to breathe was soon returned to him, and he accepted it gratefully. But now, he knew not where he was yet again. He feared another loop of endless hills, yet no hill this time, just fog. Utilizing his newfound gift of flight, he cautiously pressed onward in the only direction he knew he could go: Forward.
Tired, exhausted, out of breath, Cain fell to the soft, sweet grassy ground beneath him. The madness took over him; compelled him to run as far and quick as humanly possible. Escape tormented his mind. This same hill, that very billowing figure hovering in the sky, he had seen it all before. In fact, he perceived that they had not changed since he began his fruitless quest for emergence from the land he now lay upon.
It was then, that the notion collided with his train of thought: he had been trying too hard. Giving up was not an option, though hopeless he was, and deserved to be at this point. However, he forced himself into a state of relaxation; flinging himself into daydreams of happiness, trying to forget this blissful Hell. Would it work was definitely the question of the moment.
Against all grains of his mental capacity, Cain found the merriment of his forced visions almost painful. It surged mercilessly through his nervous system, he felt he was being torn apart by his own imagination. On one hand, he stayed locked in the hills. On the other, he flew into reckless montages of yesterdays and times he wished would come. Which would get the better of him? Or would they tear the very fiber of his being, forever scarring his mentality? He tried to scream, but wondered if he made a sound, for there were none around to hear him.
Then, as abruptly as the changes before, the scenes changed again. The earth fell away, and the blue sky melted into hardly cohesive shades of blue streaks. Now, however, he was not falling, but merely hanging, suspended by an unknown beating force pulling at his subconsciously moving shoulder blades. Then he realized something had not only changed in the surroundings, but in his physical shape as well.
He had wings, large, angelic wings that beat gracefully just so to keep him from riding gravity once more. Cain thought for a moment, but it was a moment too long. Before he could make any analysis, he merged with the melting clouds, drowning now in a sea of condensation. All about him was a fog, but the ability to breathe was soon returned to him, and he accepted it gratefully. But now, he knew not where he was yet again. He feared another loop of endless hills, yet no hill this time, just fog. Utilizing his newfound gift of flight, he cautiously pressed onward in the only direction he knew he could go: Forward.
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