The night yearned for blood.
Zane grasped a branch of Nightmare Tree and pulled himself up; he crouched between a crevice formed by branching tree trunks to get a better look at the cows, debris and dead bodies being tossed about the skies by the furious wind. Black and misty; such potent breeze—the way it whirled on the ground as it clasped hands with the skies to effervescently dance and destroy everything that was not bolted down to the earth.
Like a soulless demon the wind kept advancing, blowing dust into Zane’s eyes as well as whipping what was left of his neatly tied, blonde ponytail against his brown face. Zane held onto Nightmare Tree with both hands now, fearful that the approaching monster would swoop him up into the air to have its way with him. The piteous mooing of the cows alone was enough to tell Zane that the outcome of him flying high would not be pretty. He gaped at the ground in preparation to jump. But just as he was about to take the leap…
A body plunged from the sky onto the ground in front of him, stiff, eyes bulged open. Zane gasped; the sight of fresh death awoken him. He knew very well what the face of his best friend looked like and screamed the name, “Zorn!” Yet, the approaching demon gave him little time to express sympathies. He turned around to hop off from the other side of the tree and was confronted by another surprise.
“Zane! Come down! It’s right behind you!”
Zane eyed a short, redheaded tween girl and froze at the sight of her. “Zera?”
“Zane, hurry up! Jump!”
The wind roared behind him, seconds away from claiming him now.
Zane took a deep breath, then jumped … onto the body of his dead companion. He puked as his live flesh connected with the soon to be rotten one of his friend. Zane shuddered, got up, brushed himself off, took one last look at both the gusty demon and the corpse on the ground, then like Forest Gump he ran like the wind.
“C’mon!” Zera beckoned. ”This way!”
He tailed Zera through distant shadows after gawking at the eerie, leafless tree that had almost been instrumental in him losing his life. Strange words were carved into the bark of that tree and Zane had always known that. Oh, how he wished he knew how to read. Then again it was possible he might not have felt the same again had he learnt that the sign said, “The Tree from Hell.”
*
Earlier that day…
Zane stood at the brink of his village and gaped at the ground. There was green grass in front of him and everything else beyond that was yellow, dusty and bare—just a vast field of yellow nothingness that Zane had been forever warned not to traverse onto by the village Elders. Zane stood before the make-believe barrier, wondering why his green grass did not seem greener than some foreigner’s yellow earth.
“At it again?”
Zane turned to find Zera standing beside him, her face as snowy as ever. He shrugged off her remark and continued to stare at the yellow land in front of him. He inhaled. “What do you see when you look at this land, Zera?”
Zera frowned. “Not much.”
Zane paused. “I think I see … a wasteland?”
“A wasteland? What’s that?”
Zane matched the girl’s confused expression. “I dunno. Never heard the word before.”
They both laughed their hearts out.
“You don’t know what it is but you see it?” Zera teased.
“Yeah,” Zane replied. “I see a lot of things, but …” He would be interrupted.
“Zane! Food’s ready!” A woman’s voice. “I made your favorite: fried lizards and dumplings!”
Zane eyes brightened. “Oh boy, mum made lunch!” He raced towards the call of his mother but stopped midway when he saw that Zera had not been following him. “You’re not coming?”
“No, you go ahead, Zane. I’ll meet up with you later.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.” And Zane dashed forward.
Zera stared into the distance at the immense yellow land before her, twirling her curly crimson hair while at it. “Humph, that Zane. Always thinking about something crazy,” she said offhandedly. “A wasteland. Ha. The name sounds so silly. I bet he made it up in his sleep.” Afterwards, as if to compare the two, she turned to view the structure of her village: a small community consisting mostly of about a dozen wooden houses and a small farm in the midst of those houses.
Zera then peered up at the sky and a big, bright ball of flame reflected heat and rays that almost blinded her. Why doesn’t it ever rain here? she wondered. She once again glared at the strange piece of land Zane had been referring to as a wasteland. In an instant she had thoughts of running onto that land, hands outstretched, and soaring through the field like an exultant airplane. But the grown hand attached to the deep voice that abruptly clutched her shoulder brought her back to reality, “Come, Zera, let’s go home. It should be a fun night.”
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