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Juror No. 9
Prologue

Prologue

Falling ash choked the forest, as the pale gray flecks softly landed among the trees. Rose struggled to see through the dense clouds of smoke which filled the air. She stumbled from tree to tree, blindly pressing forward; her nostrils congested with the smell of burnt earth.

As Rose took another step, she tripped over a rotting stump and tumbled to the ground. She laid among the leaves, her lungs aching and eyes stinging. She watched the ash fall and it thought back to her childhood lying in the field, watching the snow fall during winter; only this time instead of wonderment, she felt sickness. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she let out a deep breath.

The sound of sticks breaking and leaves being trampled under heavy boots caused Rose to snap open her eyes. She rolled onto her stomach and crawled on scraped knees to a thin, dying tree and pulled herself up. Rose quickly glanced behind, and tried to gingerly pick up her pace once she started walking.

Far into the distance, through the haze of smoke, she could barely make out the shape of small shack surrounded by a bog and her heart leapt. Rose summoned every ounce of strength left and broke into a hobbled jog. She practically fell into the door after she crossed the murky water and arrived at the shack. Roe began pounding on the wood; furiously at first and weakly soon after, leaving behind bloody prints of the side of her hand. Only silence answered. Rose took a step back and grabbed her right arm, which hung limply at her side. Her shoulders slumped.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Unintelligible shouting rang out from deep within the forest followed by a muffled explosion. Sparks of colored light barely penetrated the darkness and smoke. Rose couldn’t tell how close they were, and her legs felt too much like mush to attempt further running. She limply knocked on the door then stopped, closing her eyes once again. Her head hurt, her lungs burned, and she shivered; if only she could just rest.

“Oh dearie.” A voice said softly from behind. Rose immediately spun around. An old woman stood in the middle of the forest across from the bog. Yet her voice sounded as if she spoke right into Rose’s ear. She slowly shook her head. Before Rose could move, the old woman held up her hand. She walked towards Rose with an effortless stride, she appeared to glide all the way to the front door. The woman was short, and bedraggled, but still seemed to have a faint, ethereal glow against the smog. She tutted as she arrived and looked over the bruised and battered young girl. “You chose wrong.” the old woman said, and sighed as she plucked a leaf out of Rose’s hair then wiped drying blood from her cheek. Rose’s eyes, already bloodshot, filled with tears.

Rose began to sob and watched the old woman turn around and motion as if she were writing something in the air. The shouting resumed, this time growing closer and Rose looked towards the forest and back to the old woman with panic. For her part, the old woman paid no attention to either Rose nor the noise.

Rose became dizzy and struggled to focus. The old woman turned back to face Rose. Her index finger glowed as she raised it up. “The cost is growing ever higher, and outpaces your ability to pay.” She said. Several dark figures began to emerge from the trees. Rose stepped back until she bumped into the door. They began to shout, but Rose just couldn’t make out what they were saying. Still the old woman’s focus remained on Rose. The figures began to advance faster than Rose expected, or she was losing her grip on time, she no longer could tell. The old woman’s eyes turned a deep crimson. “You’re still oblivious to what’s happening. And for everyone’s sake, I hope you wake up.” She tapped Rose on the forehead.

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