Rose of the Ever

Rose of the Ever

She was seventeen and alone in the dark cell, surrounded by the grief of the prisoners in the cells beyond her own.  Some were crying; others moaned; and, the rest sat in silence, accepting what awaited them.  They all knew what would come and dealt with it in the only way they could.  Either by telling their small world or bottling the horrors inside, every prisoner added to the atmosphere of grief and fear that hovered above them all. 

She did neither but rather drew from within herself the courage to face what would come.  What would happen next she did not know, nor did she wonder about it.  Destiny pushed her onward, and this was but a step on the way.  She could find a way around the fate this prison pushed her toward and would, without a doubt, benefit from this lesson.  Neither brooding nor wondering she traveled through her thoughts, analyzing them for the fear and doubt she knew would soon come.  She could afford no weakness. 

 

Burning.  Scorching.  Flaming.  Blistering.  All described his state of being.  From the merciless sky, the sun beat down upon him.  The rock strewn ground scraped, scratched, and clawed at him as they dragged him through the desert--his thoughts festering behind a foggy mask in his mind.  The time would come when he would escape.  Months had already passed, but he would not give up hope.  They would make a mistake, and he would make his escape.

The search must continue.  He couldn’t stop now – now that his search had barely begun.  He would find Him and return in triumph.  He would prove that he could be trusted with the knowledge the monks had imparted to him.

A rock drove its sharp edge into his back and he gasped aloud.  A large sooty hand appeared before him, striking him across the head.  Once again, he was lost to the world, drifting through the vastness of his mind.