View User's Journal

Sliding the ring onto his finger and grabbing hold of the locket tightly, Tarian began the long trek back to what had been a bustling village only a few hours earlier – or had it been days? Tarian didn’t know how long he had been sleeping. The sun was high in the sky, and the clouds from the previous day were long blown away by the furious winds which had rendered him freezing as he had lain, waiting for sleep to come upon him.

As Tarian walked, he felt an urge to simply turn around and run. Run away from his old home and go towards the nearest village. If he remembered correctly from his studies of the old and dusty maps in the library that was his father’s bookcase, there was a fairly large village not far northwest. But, he thought as he trudged along, if he didn’t return and take proper care of what was left, then who would?

There was a hope in Tarian’s mind that somehow there had been somebody – anybody would do, even the smallest baby or most annoying child – who had survived the brutality of the attack. It was the one thing he was holding on to. If he hadn’t been there at that time, then surely there had been other people who were lucky enough to escape.

Upon arriving back at the village, Tarian shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. Looking at the buildings, he could almost picture the people of Florilica going about their daily lives. That was where he and his best friend, Adrian, had made their tree house when they were little. There was where the old lady lived with the cat that always ran away.

Memories of the past years of his life were flooding Tarian’s brain as he remembered the citizens of the village who were no longer living. It was a suffocating thought as he remembered the quirks and talents of the villagers that he had met. To think that they were not all gone… The young man with no job would no longer be smiling and whistling as he stood at the corner and put on shows for quarters. The little girl with the much-loved dog would never be seen with her father on walks on the village streets.

Tarian paused a moment in the middle of the road, shutting his eyes as if by doing so he could block out the images of the dead villagers which were haunting his thoughts. Giving his head a little shake, he pushed his depressed thoughts to the back of his mind.

He was here only to bury the ones who had fallen. He was then going to leave the village and tell the people in the nearest village about what had happened. Then… Dark thoughts entered Tarian’s mind as he pondered about what he was going to do after he warned the neighboring village. Then, he would seek out revenge on those who had mutilated the village of Florilica. Tarian was determined. He needed justice, he told himself. The lives of so many had been wasted in one day. Somebody would have to pay.

-x-x-x-

It was done. Tarian sat back on the front step of the Council Hall after hours of work. He had finished burying what was left of the people of Florilica. It had been tiring and painful work – both physically and emotionally – burying his old neighbors and good friends. Although, he had noticed that many people were not among the majority of the villagers. Maybe, he thought hopefully, they had gotten away and were traveling away from the village to be safe. Maybe.

He had tried his hardest to remember all of the people’s names and write some form of sentimental message about them, which wasn’t hard for a few people. But most of them he had barely had any contact with, so he ended up digging a really big hole and marked the grave with the nicest words he could think of.

His parents had been the ones he had buried last, after being very careful about where they were and what they were buried with. A few final tears fell onto their clothes as he covered them with a layer of dirt and watched their faces disappear beneath the dark soil.

Now the job was done, and Tarian was tired and covered with a thin layer of grime as he sat, shovel on the ground next to him, on the step of the Council Hall. It was long dark now, and the sky looked like it was about to start raining any moment now. Great. Something else to make his day even worse: rain.

Tarian stood and began walking, not really looking at where he was going until he realized he was on the familiar path towards his home. He considered for a moment turning around, but he would have to find shelter from the rain soon. Tarian felt drops beginning to fall on his head as the air gained that pre-storm feeling that had most animals running for cover.

He didn’t alter his course, and soon found himself standing on his front porch, slightly sheltered by the small roof over his head. His hand was on the doorknob, and he was looking the old wooden door in the face, but he couldn’t open it. Tarian stood there, frozen as he stared at the old scars the door had from him and Ashlyn constantly kicking, slamming, and generally abusing it. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to simply turn the knob, push open the door, and walk in.

The idea suddenly hit him: This was his house. Not just in the fact that it was where he lived. By right and the fact that there was no one else in his family eligible to have it, the house belonged to him. Tarian Prescott possessed all rights to this little house, and none other. It was a very finalizing thought. There. Was. No. One. Else.

Wiping his face with his other hand, Tarian opened the door and walked cautiously inside. The same old furniture was in the living room. The couch placed against the wall, the family picture on the wall behind it. The small table was on the floor, coated with the leftovers from Ashlyn’s latest craft project which had been some form of painting and green paper. Tarian couldn’t make much sense of what was left of it in a big blob on the table.

The kitchen. The leftover dishes from lunch time were still on the rack drying. There was nothing there which was preparing for supper: there was supposed to be food at the festival.

Slowly and cautiously, Tarian explored the entire house. Everything was normal. He didn’t know what he expected. Was he expecting it to be completely void of any trace of human life? Was he expecting all of the family portraits to be empty or gone? Everything was exactly as it had been yesterday morning, with the exception of the lack of people in the house besides him.

Tarian flopped down on the couch, sitting with his face in his hands. Tonight he would stay here, he decided. He could hear the rain pounding down onto the roof like bricks. Yes, tonight would be spent here. And tomorrow he would start walking. Silently, he walked upstairs to his bedroom, closing the door to his parents’ and sister’s room on the way.

Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

More Information