Deluge
Day after day, which soon turned to weeks, Tenko continued her lonely journey from the village to the midst of the forest. She ignored her own needs; she ignored the tatters that were her clothes and the hideous knotted and matted hair on her head. On bare feet, she traversed the rough, rocky dirt of the forest floor, as she dodged branches and vines and swatted the flies from her face. Her mind was hollow as she thought of only one thing: the beautiful voice which had visited her so long ago. Even as the rains began, Tenko could not forget its smooth and velvety tone. She could never forget the way it soothed her every muscle and bone. She would never forget the way it made her feel – the way she forgot every bad thing she had endured throughout her past. What did the villagers call this emotion? That foreign word – was it love? The girl could not tell; yet she knew, in this ideal world she had fabricated within the forest, there was only the voice and her. Now that it was gone, the poor girl was terribly and completely alone.
The village watched on with solemn eyes the child who continued day after day to destroy herself. She was relentless in her journey to find that mysterious voice once more, and most knew better than to stand in the way; even the most bitter of cold winds which bit and nipped at her pale cheeks and toes could not stall her daily torment. As the rains grew worse, like pins and needles falling from the sky onto her frozen figure, the girl found herself growing weaker and weaker. She would make her voyage, only to collapse to the forest floor. As she felt the cold mud and rocks between her fingers, her eyes would swell; bitter concoctions of rain and tears swept down her cheeks and lips, the taste so sharp and salty as to make her gag.
Obsession fueled her arms and legs; yet her heart was feeble, so filled with fear and desperation as it was. Soon, despite how determined she may have felt to continue, she could not. The deluge of rain which poured heavier and harder upon the unsuspecting village began to flood the forests, and slowly creeped upon their little huts. Soon, the villagers could not step too far out of their own homes, as their flooded surroundings threatened to sweep them away. In Tenko's state, she would most certainly have no chance against such forces of nature. Therefore, she remained in her hut, unmoving as she lied in her straw cot. Her eyes bore into the ceiling. Her mind now raced with so many thoughts of regret and worry and each beat of her heart propelled these emotions through her blood and even deeper into the core of her being. Delirium consumed her fragile frame; for the most part, she gave not even the slightest twitch of a finger to indicate she was alive.
Frozen in time, her eyes searched the ceiling for some kind of answer. A pointed hut of yellowish-brown thatched straw and mud and other strange combinations – how long ago had it been that she was guided to this little village? As quaint and beautiful as it was back then, it seemed so ugly and empty now. Her chapped lips parted, searching for her words. When was the last time she had spoken to another human? Everything felt so foreign and cold. A part of her heart ached; it was such a strange sensation that she had never felt before. Tenko swallowed down hard, painfully. Finally, the weary girl's eyes shut slowly, dark and pitch black consuming. She watched the colourful spheres and lines dance underneath her tired eyelids and she breathed deeply, one final ounce of energy flowing to her lips before she found sleep.
“You're never coming back. . .”
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