Story Short story: Desert (not abt CTF)

His is about a girl called Lana, random character I came up with... I was just bored so I wrote this story. Hope you like it! :3

The sun hung in the sky, casting a deep shade of yellow on the sea of sand beneath it, and occasional breezes seemed to whisper through the air, and the sand would wisp and curl in the trail of it, the only evidence that there was wind in this desolate place.

She treads through the sand, leaving behind a trail of footprints, before the wind would blow the evidence of her existence away. She seemed to float off the ground, her feet not even sinking into the soft sand. The sand was now a deep orange colour, and the small rocks mixed with the orange sea, and like a real sea the sand could devour, very often the person could disappear through the cracks. Sand was a deadly thing.

She was now coming to her place, a safe haven by the oasis that she found only a day ago, the bright green and red turban wrapping around her face, her sandy-orange hair trailing behind her, the colour of a slightly darker shade of orange-white. She wore a long orange dress, and as she moved her feet so subtlety across the sand, her dress moved in time with her, swaying in minute movements as well.

She also carried a small bag, woven together with minute precision, made of palm leaves that filled the trees that surrounded the oasis nearby. She had taken a long drink from the glistening pool of water. And now, as she drew her turban to cover most of her face, she continued to walk, and at least the sun showed her mercy, and for once it did not scorch as much.

She thought of her past.

Lana. Lana, why?

She tried to forget the frustration that she no longer had to feel. As her feet fell softly on the sand as she started to run, seeing the sun starting to set, and the darkness creeping on the earth. Darkness was also another deadly thing. As she put her hand to her back, she felt the deep impression of the scar that had left her changed.

She thought back to her past. What was really going on in the past? She barely knew anymore. The truth had been shrouded in the darkness. She barely remembered her parents. She was desperately trying to grasp hold of a happy memory, but it had all turned out strange. She had memories, but they weren’t good ones.

She remembered when she had been snatched from her parents, and how her mother was crying at a corner, face between her hands, chest heaving with every sob. Her father, hand reaching out to her, eyes brimming with tears, red spidery veins spread out on his irises, the evidence of little sleep evident. She remembered fighting, trying to break free. She had been trying her best to escape the bleak reality of things.

Lana had been brought to a house, large and welcoming but menacing in a way, and she had remembered every day in that large mansion, chained to the metal curve in the kitchen, beaten if she did something wrong. She was a servant. When she did not do as her master asked, she was taken down to the dungeon to be tortured. She had been whipped, and she also had been slapped, beaten. She had suffered.

Everyday in that house her hatred grew, she became more and more defiant. Her master, called Babushka, loved to see her get punished. She watched the happenings around the house, and also allowed herself to grow more observant of the shifts of the guards, the time that they would start to make their rounds around the house.

Only two weeks ago she had stolen a breakfast knife from the table, and had started determinedly sawing through the chains. After a week of sawing, she had finally broken through the chains. She had ran non-stop through the desert that surrounded the house of terror, stopped for drinks at different places, finally finding an oasis here.

But what she had to do now was almost impossible. She shook her head and continued. If it was dark she would have to give up her search. She had been searching for three days straight. The cycle of the sun and moon rising and taking over each other’s places soon became a bore. Did the red-haired boy in the mansion knew what he was telling her to do? He had no name, like all the servants in the house. He had told Lana to find a rock, that would lead to freedom. Now that rock was all she got.

Lana stared straight into the sun, trying hard not to believe that the orange swirling patterns of the sky and freedom was another swathing mirage of the desert. Her foot struck against something hard. She bent down. She finally found it. She bent down slowly, and reached out a hand to press the button on the inconspicuous rock, the one buried between the sand, wedged between the sea, like a shipwreck. Shipwreck. Almost instantly, the ground beneath her opened, swallowed her up. All she could feel was that weightless sensation, the feeling of falling...falling...falling. She used her hands to grope around in the pitch black. But they found nothing. Her world then faded as it mixed with the darkness of the pit.

When she woke up, she found herself lying in a place they called Beacon. Beacon, where they said it was going to be alright. Beacon, where it was a shining ray of hope like its name. Most importantly, Beacon, where her parents were.

-by auromelt, random person in CTF