I slam into the cornfield a bit too hard, sending dirt outwards all around me. A patrol near my window looks my way raising his gun blindly in my direction. He moves to the edge where the crop ends, cautiously swinging the barrel of his weapon against the stalk. I stay still, slowly breathing through my mouth. For a moment, his muzzle stops directly at me, then continues swaying. He takes a step in but gets distracted by the other men exiting the compound over to his left.
“Oh, thank goodness,” I whisper, moving up to the edge.
When the guard moves near the crowd at the end of the building, I bolt into my room. I sit on my bed, reflecting on my time with Vodkis. I immensely miss her more than I ever have before. My soul yearns deeply that I feel nauseous, not in a sickly manner but in a pleasant sense. Her perfume lingers in my room. The smell might keep me sane for the work that lies ahead or make me yearn for the weekend to arrive sooner.
“Alright, time to get up!” A sentry shouts from behind my door. I quickly put on my work shoes, and head to the door. Right as I open it, a sentry charges in and falls on the floor. He jumps back up and clears his throat. “Let’s go! Get to work!”
“Yes, sir,” I say, biting the inside corner of my lip. He shoves me up the hallway the second I walk past him. Only my shoulder moves forward.
He continues to harass me with various slurs till I’m outside with the other male workers. Once we all gather together, they lead us out of the compounds and up the hill to the working fields. I notice some men around me whisper to each other, which is odd at this time of the day. We never talk this early in our migration to the fields. The guards know we can whisper nearly in a muted dialogue, so they oversee our lips when we don’t notice them. I hone in on the conversation of the men behind me.
“These idiots are gonna get us in trouble. They need to shut up,” a man says.
“They won’t stop talking about their nightmare,” a man replies. I turn my head slightly back after hearing him say nightmare. “All of us are shaken up about it. I’m still affected by it.”
“Hmm, I didn’t get any nightmares or dreams.” For a few seconds, they don’t speak. “This is strange. Half of our unit is whispering.” I glance around and find others talking to one another. “What did you see?”
“It was just flashes of death, screaming, and pain.”
“Shut your mouth,” a guard yells. I hear a thud and a great commotion behind me. “Shut your mouths, or all of you will be disciplined! Keep your eyes straight ahead.”
I quickly look at the two men’s faces to remember what they look like, so I can approach them opportunely if possible. His vision sounds like it was shorter than mine and more horrendous in its imagery. If I can’t get to them, I hope to visit one of the oracles stationed for our group of workers.
----------------------------------------
As everyone approaches the working fields, we split into threes, heading to our designated working holes. I watch the two men walk together towards the statues of King Melon, our tormentor and bastard king, and the mines. Seeing the second statue nearly completed of that two-horned, smug-looking alien freak pisses me off. I can feel my frustration rise, and then I think about what Vodkis told me weeks ago about not causing issues. My anger dies down as I remember her words and beautiful face from last night.
“Let your elegance save me from temptation, my love,” I whisper to myself. I look over at the third statue we’re forced to build. It only has its legs and parts of the lower coat we’re sculpting. “Today, hell is lusting to destroy my soul.”
“Get to work, you Spargarian dogs,” our quartermaster says. Two new architects, my friend Arlic, and I enter our dirt square with a marble stationed in the middle of it. My quartermaster hands me a diagram of the specifics of our task on the right portion of the statue. “Don’t stop till this is done,” he says in a nasty raspy low tone voice.
“Yes, sir.” I notice the amount my team is tasked with. Fifty blocks must be crafted. I look at my fellow workers, and they’re giving the most defeated-looking frown I’ve ever seen. “Read up. Let’s get this done.” Our quartermaster wanders away from us, yelling at other workers. “I hate this,” I whisper through my teeth, flinging the paper in the air.
“Let me see,” Arlic says, catching the paper. When he reads it, he sighs, shaking his head from side to side. “They’ll have us working till evening with this load.”
“I know.”
“They’re literally killing us with these insane tasks.”
“I know!” I glance at our two new additions. They look like they are in their teens. All they have is chin hair. Their bodies lack the muscular size Arlic, and I have, so they probably won’t be helping us in delivery.
“Come on, let’s get this over with.”
“Your tolerance to them sometimes annoys me.” He chuckles, which makes me do the same, but only for a short moment. We begin drawing and motoring the marble brick. “Have you heard what the guys been talking about?”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“A lot of them had nightmares last night. I didn’t get one. Did you?”
“Mhmm. I feel like it means something important. I overheard a man saying he had one too, but his was different than mine.” I look back over to the general direction the men went. “I need to speak with that man.” Arlic lets out a long-winded sigh, then curls his lips in, pressing them out. “What?”
“Were you not here for the morning talk?”
“No, I came back late.”
“King Melon gave the order for the workers to finish the two statues by tomorrow morning. His family and entourage will come late in the evening to check it. It’ll be suicidal if you sneak over there.” I take another glance at the detestable statues. “As a worried friend, don’t do anything stupid, or these demons will give you something far worse than a whip.”
“Damn, fine... I won’t go over there.” One option is dead in the water, but I might have a better chance of visiting an oracle.
----------------------------------------
I drop the hammer and chisel out of my hands as my team finishes the last sculpted marble block. My hands shake from the fatigue. They are caked with gray dust from the marble. It is all over my arms, clothing, and hands. The second I lift the massive stone, my palms start cramping violently.
“I’ll fly this one out, Zazarel,” Arlic says, picking up the stone and hovering with it over his head. “Those cramps look bad.”
“This is nothing,” I say, clenching my fist to suppress the immense pain. “I’ll go to the doctor.”
“Alright. See you later.”
“Yeah.” I listen to him fly away as I keep my attention on my hands. Once the cramping stops, I stand out of our hole, looking for the quartermaster. He’s just finished hitting workers with his whip before eying me.
“Did you finish?” He says, sending some spit out his mouth.
“Yes,” I say through my teeth. “I need to see the doctor. My hands are cramping.” He snatches my right hand up to his face to look at it. The cramping reinitiates. I try my best to keep my hand open to show him. “I need to get them fixed.”
“Go fix them.” He marks my upper arm with a red marker so I won’t be bothered by other quartermasters.
I fly to the medical field, where multiple people gather around the tents. It saddens me to see so many suffering like I am. I scout out the oracles that are outside, specifically their green garments. They should stick out in this brownish-grey landscape, but I don’t spot any of them. I walk on foot, peaking my head in various tens looking for them. In the ones I look into, I see nurses tending to workers in their worst state.
I move further into the community and spot a single tent somewhat separated from the others. No one is around it, so I walk up to it. The pain in my hands spikes like a beating heart.
“Anybody here?” I say, entering the tent. No one is here, but recently someone was. There’s incense burning on a table next to the entrance. I move over to the right to smell the sweet perfume. The tent flaps open against my back, and an oracle walks in without noticing me. No one comes after him. “Excuse me,” I whisper.
“My goodness,” he says, touching his chest with both hands. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Please forgive me, elder.” He takes a few deep breaths to relax. “I need your help.”
“Are you having trouble sleeping, my boy?”
“No. I’m fine. I need you to interpret a nightmare I had.” He points behind me, flinging his finger wildly. I take it as he wants me to seal the tent, so I do it. My hands once again surge in sharp pain. I groan until the pain fades away. “You don’t happen to have something for cramping?”
“Luckily I do. Come sit on this chair and eat whatever is in that bowl.” I take a handful of what looks like berries, toss them into my mouth, then take a seat. My body begins getting numb after a minute passes. “So, you say you had a nightmare?”
“Yeah.” The numbness moves from my body to my hands like sand crawling under my skin. “I need your help to understand it. I feel like it was important.”
“Anything we see in our sleep is important.” He puts a censor between us. Red smoke flows upward, filling the room with a hazy tint. For some reason, the air is still breathable even though it feels thick inside my nose. “Let’s see what you saw.” His hands protrude out of the smoke having them together in a praying stance. “Don’t panic.”
“Panic?”
His hands open up, sending smoke into my face. Red smoke consumes everything around me. I can’t see him or the ground under me. My body feels like I’m falling, yet there’s no air cascading around my body. Suddenly the chair vanishes under my butt, sending me spiraling wildly over nothing. I try flying, but my ability feels gone. The smoke starts fading away, and I can feel the air hit my body. When I control my flight, I hit the ground. The oracle stands over me with a big smile on his face.
“Good job. You didn’t panic,” he says.
“I was on the brink of it,” I say, sitting up. The first thing I see is myself standing over Vodkis. “What is this?”
“That should be clear as day.” He starts laughing. “Wow, it’s actually a clear day.” I turn around to see what I’m looking at. It’s the troops coming over the hill. “Whoa, that is some army.”
“We need to get out of here.” I jump to fly out, but nothing happens. “What’s happening to me?” The troops shoot at us. I see a bullet coming toward my chest, and I fall to the ground to evade it. When I look up, it’s floating. “Huh?”
“Nothing can harm you here,” he whispers, helping me up. “This is all inside your mind.” We warp further in time, where I catch Vodkis. I witness my dream self create a massive explosion when he lands hard. “Whoa!”
“This is it.” I look around to see where I hear the loud metal crash. There’s nothing in sight. Suddenly I hear it directly behind us. Before I can turn around, multiple people fly past me at high speeds. Their bodies are a blur of white and blue. I turn around and see a giant oval ship with smaller same-shaped aircraft under it.
“My heavens, what is this?” I hear myself yelling loudly, gripping the front part of my face. “What’s going on there?” He takes us down into the crater. Vodkis and I are frozen. The horrifying tears frozen on her cheeks make me nearly cry. I squat down to her to wipe her eyes, but my hand gets repelled by an invisible barrier.
Vodkis,” I murmur, trying several attempts to wipe her eyes. “Why can’t I touch her?!”
“Because you are in an illusion.” My attention turns to my frozen self. The fangs of my teeth are longer, and the pupils of my eyes are a maroon color. “It can’t be.”
“What can’t be?”
“The eyes, your teeth.” He moves in closer to examine my strained face. “Tell me what was going on here?”
“I saw flashes of our people fighting Melonians.” He touches my actual forehead and then swings his hand outward to his right, sending the images I saw into a vivid canvas. His eyes bulge open and his jaw drops. “What do these mean?”
“First, tell me your name.”
“My name is Zazarel.”
“Zazarel, what you saw is what I’ve seen for many years. I believe you were given the dreadful yet liberating premonition of our sovereignty.” I look at him with one eye squinted as I shift my lips to the right corner of my mouth.
“Excuse me?”