The Prophet

Lissa had no time to think. Her reaction was purely instinct. In a split second she acted, by doing the only thing she could do… run. Darkness was falling, and in its wake, the heavy veil of night was ominously descending. Lissa quickly glanced up at the sky as she ran. She could still see some remnants of daylight filtering through the trees, although it grew increasingly faint the deeper into the woods she ran. This forest was dense, and with the rapid onset of evening, getting eerily darker by the minute. Sinister shadows began to follow her, devouring everything in their path. Lissa’s surroundings were quickly becoming enveloped in a thick, foreboding blackness. Without regard, she ran, blindly. She tripped and stumbled her way through the thick underbrush. The slick, wet leaves that blanketed the ground made her flight through the woods that much more treacherous. Still, she ran, frantically. With each painful step, the realization of her incomprehensible situation became terrifyingly more apparent. Suddenly, the nightmare that had so often plagued her had become startling clear. She was living the nightmare that had tormented her for so long. And this time, it had become her reality. This time, she found herself truly running, running to save her very soul. Although she had covered very little distance, Lissa was already insentient to the icy rain that continued to beat down on her exposed skin unrelentingly and numb to the bite of the frost-covered ground to her bare feet. Her mind was also becoming numb. She tried to think. She tried to rationalize this unimaginable horror, but her thoughts seemed as frozen as her body. Mercifully, with every step, her broken body grew that much more desensitized to the brutal elements and unforgiving terrain. But Lissa still shivered, violently, uncontrollably, from both cold and fear. She ignored the bite of the October wind that chilled her to the bone, as well as the immense pain that threatened to consume her. She was fighting for her life, and there was no room for self-pity. Although she had had little time to think, Lissa was cognizant of one thing, the need to keep running. She had to escape him, or surely die. Of that, she had no doubt. Only adding to her difficulty, the forest floor was littered with sharp twigs, briars and branches that ripped at her flesh as she tore a path through the underbrush. Devoid of any extraneous emotions save self-preservation, determination, and repulsion, she pressed on. But night was almost upon her, and with every passing moment, the sun set lower in the sky, its light getting dimmer and dimmer as it continued its descent, leaving only the faintest rays in the evening sky. The moon would soon take its place. What little daylight remained was only visible beyond the trees ahead. Instinctually, Lissa knew what lay there just beyond the trees. As Lissa forced herself to focus on the clearing, a profound feeling of dread and familiarity crept slowly into her being, breaking through the numbness and settling into her soul. She realized, as she ran toward the light, that this was the place she had visited so many times in her hellish dreams. She had indeed lived this nightmare before. And she knew, without a doubt, what lay ahead, and she raced toward that steep ravine that cradled the icy, tumultuous river. She had no place else to run, so she willed her broken, bloody body toward that ravine. As Lissa ran, the tree limbs, like outstretched arms, with long, boney, gnarled fingers reached for her, clawing at her, tearing away strips of material from her nightgown and clumps of hair from her scalp. She could hear him in the distance, his panting, labored breaths, loud and resounding. They sounded almost animalistic, like a predator sniffing the air as it pursued its prey. His breathing echoed in her ears. His moans of rage were so horrendous they resembled the cries of a dying animal as they reverberated through the forest. She sensed him immediately behind her. He was closing in. He was getting nearer and nearer. She heard the branches snapping beneath his heavy steps, making her even more keenly aware of his proximity. He was close. Very close. With blind determination, Lissa kept running. Summoning every bit of will she possessed, she pushed herself harder, faster. Her body was so tired and weak and battered that every muscle was screaming in protest, but she didn’t slow down. Regardless of her pain and exhaustion, she didn’t give up. She wouldn’t give up. With sheer volition, she pushed herself to the brink of collapse. Her lungs were burning, nearly bursting from exertion. Each breath she took was a short, painful pant. Tears flowed down her face. Those salty tears, mixed with rain and her own blood, were nearly blinding her, and she continually tried to blink them away. She could taste the bitterness of her own blood in her mouth, blood, and bile as it burned her raw throat, causing an almost overwhelming urge to fall to her knees and vomit. But Lissa battled that urge, and she battled the urge to simply give up and give in. The thick scar tissue that banded her back felt, once again, as though they were freshly inflicted. But there was no time to dwell on the pain or the horrors of the past. That pain was insignificant in comparison to the hell she was now experiencing. The thin nightgown that Lissa wore, what was left of it, was drenched and heavy. It continually wrapped itself around her body as she ran, hindering her progress even more. What remained of her gown was torn, soaked with blood and rain, and hung from her body in tatters. As he began to close the distance between them, Lissa made one more attempt to scream, but she couldn’t. Her voice simply came out as a whimper. Her mouth was too dry and her throat too raw. She swallowed over and over, in an attempt to fight the nausea, incapacitating pain, and fear that threatened to paralyze her. He was directly behind her now. She could feel him. She could feel the heat of his proximity, even without looking back. She couldn’t look back. Looking back would only slow her down. He was much faster than her, and she was acutely aware that she was almost within his reach. She could actually feel his evil as it radiated from his very being. It was tangible, palpable. Lissa wanted desperately to scream, but trying was not only impossible, it was pointless. No one would hear her. No one would save her. She had only one chance for survival, and it lay just ahead. She knew she had to make it to where the last rays of light penetrated the shadows. She had to make it to the clearing, the ravine. She was so close. She could hear the river. She could smell it. She had seen it, again and again. But this time it was real. And Lissa knew what lay at the bottom of that ravine. She squeezed her eyes shut, but only for the briefest moment, trying to dissolve the memory. She knew what she had seen floating in the frigid, raging cauldron. She squeezed her eyes shut at the memory of seeing her own lifeless body floating at the bottom of that ravine! Lissa knew her fate. She had already faced it, and she knew it was death that now awaited her, but she’d rather die fighting than die at his hands. Lissa had already lived this nightmare. She had seen how it ended, but she ran. As she continued, she felt herself growing weaker. The loss of blood, pain, cold, and exhaustion had taken their toll. But, she forced herself on. She had to reach the light. Although she knew what lay ahead would probably mean her death, there was still a remnant of hope, hope that it could also be her salvation…