Corpses of War.

The walk home was accompanied by a dreadful downpour, that which easily found its way through all the layers of my clothes and soon tried to penetrate my skin with its cold tactics. Lee had abandoned me early on during the trip back, having said something about needing to pick up a ball of yarn for his mother, which sounded utterly absurd seeing as how there was very little of that material left in the Empire. It was an excuse to not have to walk back with me, to hear me complain and franticly address all of the possible problems at hand. Despite how upset I was to be traveling back alone, I couldn’t blame him for wanting to duck out of the trip, especially because of the torrential rain that felt like pebbles against the hood of my overcoat that tried its best to protect the gears that spun like wheels inside my head.

I didn’t go home initially and I took my time wading through the ash and snow that had flooded the frequently used dirt path that passed through Busk Park. The grasses that always tried to tug at my pants were now drowned under the gray-brown water that formed puddles in the ditches of the road, and the holes in my shoes were much too welcoming of the discolored liquid, allowing it to seep through the material, soaking my socks. Every step sounded with a squeak of rubber and a hiss as the water was pressed from my socks, leaking from the holes from which it had entered.

My mother was sure to ask where I had been and why I was wet to the bone, but there was very little room for truth in these sorts of conversations in which I typically told her that Lee and I had gone on a walk and got lost in the tall grasses of the park. I’m not sure she ever believed such a nonsense response, but she simply nodded and told me to go take a warm shower. A warm shower sounded really nice right about now.

I was almost at the end of the Busk Park path when something in the back of my head told me that there were eyes upon me, eyes that knew far too much. The accusation didn’t make any sense, but my heart rate quickened and before I knew it I could barely get the proper amount of air to enter my lungs. Feeling lightheaded and as if I was going mad, I spun around, trying my best to keep my footing in the muddy dirt beneath the poor traction of my shoes. Franticly, my eyes scanned the overgrown landscape, breathing heavily as I began to take cautious steps backwards. The wind picked up, slamming a gust of icy rain into my face that sent me stumbling back, which in turn caused me to step and land in a water-filled hole in the road. Hitting the ground with a thud, the little air that had found its way into my lungs was now pushed back out, and I felt as if my eyes were bulging from of their sockets as I struggled to breathe. I wheezed, but my mind was moving a thousand miles a minute and the only thing I could focus on was the hazy black figure I had caught a glimpse of out of the corner of my eye as it stood tactfully beside the dead, wilting tree on the side of the road.

How long had it been standing there? Did it own the eyes that I had felt piercing through my overcoat? The rain was coming down in sheets now and the already sketchy outline of the figure was now nothing but a fuzzy smudge against the darkening sky. Rolling over onto my side, I fumbled for anything that was within my reach: grass, rocks, roots, anything. I needed to get up, to run, to escape whatever creature or being was watching me struggle like a worm in the mud. Never had I seen anyone travel down this path during the same times as I, not to mention wandering around in the overgrown weeds during a brewing storm.

My side ached with every breath that somehow found its way into my tightened lungs, as if someone had thrust pins into my ribcage. I wanted to scream, to cry out as I dragged myself on my stomach across the flooding path, but nothing came from my lips that now shivered from cold and fear.

Fear.

I felt fear.

The Empire must have heard about our meeting earlier; this must be the Fox, coming to kill me before I even had the chance close my eyes and sleep. Tears threatened to pour down my cheeks as pained grunts and whines tore from chapped lips that had formed a grimace across pale facial features, and after a few moments of succumbing to panic, words finally tore from my lips.

“What do you want?” I cried, face turned sideways and pressed to the mud beneath me, “Are you here to kill me, huh?”

The figure was only visible in my peripheral vision now, still next to the tree that shook in the whirling winds. The stranger stood still, saying nothing nor moving an inch as I threw unpleasant words in its direction. What was I thinking, antagonizing someone who may be here to terminate me because of my acts of treason against the Empire? Perhaps I wasn’t thinking this through, but apparently no one had told my mouth that.

“Well, are you? Or are you not allowed to disclose that to your victims?” The words were laced with venom as I worked to pull myself into a sitting position, but it wasn’t going as well as I had hoped, and my face settled back into the mud and grime. “You Empire scum… You think you can do whatever you want to us, but you’re wrong.” My voice grew louder as the sentence ended, and was then repeated with a hissing rage that I did not know I possessed. “You’re wrong.”

The seething pain in my ribs only seemed to spread further along my side with every movement I made, and the next thing I knew, I was curled up in the fetal position, cursing and howling at the stranger that had yet to make a move in any way, shape, or form. What was that coward doing, waiting for me to die from natural causes or internal insanity?

Pressing muddied palms to the injured side of my battered overcoat, I rolled myself onto my back. Rain pelted my face as I grimaced and worked with labored breaths to I adjust my position so I could get a better look at the stranger. The figure had turned around now, or at least it seemed as if it had for it was slowly growing smaller and smaller. The grasses seemed to part for it as it made its way back across the field, leaving me withering in the mud and slim. Apparently not done with the conversation, I called after the stranger, hollering out through gritted teeth, “You’re a coward—You’re nothing but a bloody coward!”

The thundering rain was sure to have drowned out my words, and a part of me almost hoped that it had. I was in no condition to fight someone off; I was like an injured gazelle to a hungry, waiting lion. I was completely vulnerable and yet I continued to have the tongue of a poisonous snake.

Exhaustion was suddenly a friend, whisking over my crumpled form as I lay on the lonely pathway, surrendering to the full force of the agony that had insisted on making its home between my ribs. Removing dirtied hands from my side, I placed one over my eyes in order to attempt to block some of the rain from them. I hadn’t exactly thought such an action through, for now I had mud slathered across my face, which only made me appear even more pitiful and crazed than I had before, if that was even possible.

…

It was possible.

Groaning quietly, a quick, shallow sigh was released as I tried to control the thoughts that were swirling through my skull. It was at times like these—when I felt that my life could be taken from me at any moment—that self-reflection always followed.

If I hadn’t known any better, I would have believed that I had been laying there for hours, practically blinded by the rain and the new addition of dirt I had unintentionally applied. Back and side aching, the feeling of pins in my side refused to subside. Each breath was strained, like a struggling gasp that proved to not work as well as initially intended. I was a fool, a fool that had been left to his own devices in the muck of Busk Park, like some sort of unwanted mutt.

The sky overhead was growing darker now and the more I began to realize this, the more I felt my body give way to the seemingly inescapable chill that started at my feet and moved up my form in a wave like motion. I struggled against it, shifting myself to try and shake off the feeling that was inevitably crawling beneath my skin, but it was to no avail, and it was not long before it reached the nape of my neck. Like cold fingers, it moved through the soaked and plastered hair against my skull, resulting in sending an almost soothing shiver through every nerve in my body. I was suddenly at peace, eyelids slowly making their way down and over weary eyes as the rain continued to beat against my crumpled form.

It was unlikely that anyone would find me, especially during a raging storm such as this, and be to found in the morning would be a miracle in itself. And yet none of this worried me, and it wasn’t long before my eyelids had completely come to rest against one another, locking off tired eyes for what was determined to be a well deserved rest.

With the sound of howling winds and pelting rain, Sleep took me up in her arms, whispering sweet words in my ear as I gave in to her works of trickery and promises of false outcomes.

“Sleep well, dear Sleepwalker. You will do great things.”