My Lost Soul

Chapter 32 - War Machines

A gust of wind blew through Iseri's hair, leaving a strand stuck in her mouth. She opened her eyes to a low-cut field of grass. A shooting target sat at its far end. She stood alongside a row of people with bows, which was when she then realized she had been holding one in her hand.

"Ah, this must be all one big dream! There's no way I'd be...here again," Her enthusiasm died when she noticed she was at an archery range.

Two whistles blared in her ear, causing her to jump and almost drop her bow. Shoot! What is wrong with me? Stuff like that never gets me...

An arrow shot and pierced another target on the field, followed by several others. Taking notice of her late start, she quickly picked up her bow and an arrow from her quiver. As she aimed her bow at the target with the gust in mind, the sounds of arrows landing and bows stretching went silent. She let go of her arrow, letting it cut through the wind, landing in the bullseye. She heard cheering from behind her, but when she looked back, nobody was there. Just more grass. She fired another two perfect arrows, the grin on her face widening with each bullseye she hit.

That's the first end done, but why is it taking so long for me to wake up? Maybe I could take this opportunity to try that lucid dreaming thing, she thought as she squeezed her eyes. After just a moment of concentration, she felt a sharp pain cover her cheek. She winced and held her cheek, dropping her bow.

"Focus, Iseri! For god's sake, why'd I even pay for this if you were just going to doze off?!"

Iseri's heart stopped as soon as she heard her name, "Ma—mama? What're you—"

"Shoot!"

Iseri's legs propped herself up, like they were controlled by a puppeteer. She breathed heavy as she tried to steady her aim. The other archers were already shooting. She hadn't even heard the whistle. She shot her arrow sloppily, letting it get carried by the wind into the ground. Her breath got heavy, anticipating another scolding. Another shock of pain in her calf left her on the low grass. She looked up at the other archers—who no longer had any defining features—in despair. Her mother straightened Iseri's face to meet hers. Another slap to the face. "You don't need a leg to shoot, do you?"
Iseri stammered, shaking her head. Spit flew onto her glasses.
"Then shoot well, you retarded shit." She hissed in her face.

Iseri's heart sunk and throbbed with pain as she gasped billows of air. Other targets already had their second end, and the archers stared at her with their inexpressive faces. She drew her bow shakily, pulled the arrow, and released. The arrow flopped down in front of her.

Dropping the bow, she bent down on her knees, planting her face in the grass, sobbing, heaving cries. She scrunched up helplessly surrounded by heavy gazes.

She looked at her mother from the edge of her eyes. I can't take it anymore. Her breathing became heavy, Why can't I get away from this ugly, old bitch? Iseri thought as her eyes started to give a threatening look. She shakily reached for the arrow she had just shot and clutched it in her hand, nearly snapping it in half. This time, I'll actually do it..!

With a shriek, Iseri shot up and faced her mother. Her face was sagging, devoid of attention, and that was when her face also faded away, like the others.

Thrusting her arrow into her chest, she felt something tug on the arrow. She looked up at the wound, but there was no blood leaking from her bland, white dress. Her body limped over, brushing her gray hair against Iseri's forehead. A hole punched it's way into Iseri's heart. It gaped wider and wider with each breath. Her trembling hand let go of the arrow, allowing her mothers body to fall and phase through her own. She still stared forward with wide, dilated eyes. The black hole inside her slowly eating her up from the inside, painfully.