Era and the Lost Child (edited)

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Introduction

It was a miserable evening. Rain fought its way through a cracked sky lined with hazy, dark clouds that blocked out all forms of light. The moon, hidden behind clouds, battled to shine light onto the world below. The rain was light yet quick and stung the eyes of those that stood against the wind.

The water had been calm for days, resting, waiting for this storm. Waves reached high and hit the sandy shore ruthlessly. In this storm, there was one difference; a hulking vessel was on the waves being rocked to and fro by the pounding beats of black water that banged the sides of the boat.

This great battle between boat and water, man and sea, was over. The sea had come out victorious over the weakened ship. The mast was cracked, the sides were torn. Entering the boat unannounced, water took the passengers by surprise. Fear now entered the hearts of men and women alike that shared the same fate, doomed to the depths of the mysterious ocean below. Over the wind and rain, a faint cry of pain and sorrow could be heard. Women gripped their children,.too scared to cry. Children wept loudly, hoping for it all to end. Their wishes were given to them in full. A monstrous wave crashed the rear of the wooden crafted boat, tipping it over. All went grey.

Waves struck the beach with what seemed like a never-ending assault. Bits of wood and debris began to wash up from the shore from the destroyed vessel harbored among deadly rocks less than a mile offshore. The seaway looked like a force set against the world. With its victory over the ship, the water seemed to roar with delight, launching yet more waves to rattle the shoreline. Sand on the shore turned from its crisp, calm light brown to a deep shade of auburn.

On the rocks, the ship dangled helplessly. Through the waves, a beaten shape arose from the water on the sea. It was a man..Carrying himself on his hands and knees, he gasped for air. His bloodshot green eyes blinked rapidly trying to regain focus in the darkness.

Cold wind stabbed at his pale skin through his soaked, worn white shirt. His heart beat louder than the wind on his cheeks and faster than that waves the ushered him back into the dark sea. But he did not falter, but pushed on, claiming more ground with every groan. Feeling his body begin to give in to the physical pressures of the surrounding environment, he knew that his time was near.

He reached his hand out and grasped a handful of sand, choked out a cough, and stopped. The last thing that he saw before losing consciousness was a figure running towards him.

In the darkness of sleep, a past vision haunted the boy. He found no shelter from the horrors that had filled his life, standing now on a beaten path, in front of a thatched cottage. He knew this cottage, this memory. Walking slowly towards the chipped wooden door which was open just an inch, enough to see only the light within it. Reachinh out, he placed his palm upon the spot where he had placed it every time.

Creaking the door open, he saw it once again; thick red blood bathed the room. He ventured slowly onwards. The dirt floor was soaked in crimson. Holding a desperate scream back from this memory, he turned to his side and saw his slain younger brother.

The boy had been pierced through the heart and left to rot against the wall upon which he leant. Soft brown eyes stared out from the dead boy towards the young man now holding back tears. He breathed in deeply. He knew he had to go on. He walked further into the room towards the door directly in front of him. Knowing what he would see, but also knowing that it was the only way for him to wake himself up, he struggled on.

Letting out a long breath, he opened the final door in his journey. The door creaked open, letting light fill the room, and cover a bed that lay broken in the middle of the floor. Almost instantly, he turned away from the horrific sight. Crying now, he turned and peered through tear-filled eyes at the mutilated bodies of his mother and father. His eyes met his mother’s.

“Run John.” She whispered.

Before he had time to do anything else, the images turned dark and the world around him began to take shape.

He blinked open his eyes and observed the room around him. Usually, after the sickening dream that he experienced often, he would wake up roughly, coughing and having a slight headache. He was lying in a bed twice the size of any he had ever seen. Light shone through an open doorway in front of the bed, and then a cloud covered the sky. It was unlike the clouds of the evening before; it was peaceful and soothing.

The room in which he was sitting looked much like his old home, miles away, across the now calmed ocean. He began to take note of his surroundings. The soaked rags he had been wearing were on the back of a chair feet from him, and he was clothed in a clean material that felt like silk but looked like cotton. The sheets were of the same material and they felt very warm and comfortable against the young man.

Pulling the sheets back, he placed his feet on a cold wooden floor and then doubled over. The pain from the wreck and the rough sea had left its mark on the young man. He took a few seconds to let the breath enter into his system once more and then he noticed a figure standing in the doorway.