Banal Platitude

The caravan is travelling over the path they had ignorantly chosen. Their profulgent car and silky, soothing cloth were at odds with the lustrous quinquennium forest. However tainted they might be, one would always stand out, the lone girl. Grey hair, hollow grey eyes, chained tightly, clothed in her battered Gunne Sax. She was the one who served them with no pay, the only thing she would receive was life, and another day of suffering.

The lone girl had long abandoned her thoughts, yearning to leave this forsaken life. But every time, every time, an opportunity was stolen away. Especially by the young man. Diligent. Annoying.

The coryphaeus. The wicked coryphaeus. The resplendent coryphaeus, reigning in his little egoistic world. He was far too full of himself, already on foot — planting food. But in this altitude, this food was poison. It would not nourish. It would choke the lungs, filling them with crystallized water.

But oh, what a pity.

Despite the girl’s warning, despite everything she said, they did not listen. And so the lone girl screamed and screamed as she watched her captors fall to their own ignorance.

She foretold. The people ignored.

And the lone child got her revenge.

She did not scream out of anger. Nor out of fear.

She screamed out of joy.

Pure, insane joy.

Perhaps she was a woman of God, and perhaps this was a test she had endured. If so, she was glad it all ended now. And yet, despite everything, she remained. The others were dead, but she was still here, in this old, damn forest.

She did not know how to operate the horses. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

She walked up to one of them, patting its flank before carefully taking the reins. At first, it obeyed. She guided it forward, slow, unsteady, but moving

She had not prayed in years. Yet now, she found herself whispering to God, not in anger, not in defiance, but in something close to acceptance.

Perhaps this was always the plan.

She no longer doubted God, for the oracle had made peace with the past and considered the test a miracle. God’s know her breaking point and want to teeter it every time, even if it was stopped by external forces. She knew it just mean God has plans for her. Now that it’s come to light, she keeps galloping on.

This newfound vainglorious — within all’s else vanity — keep on going. She pressed forward, galloping toward the unknown.

And then, at the river delta, she saw it. A settlement. A chance.

“All’s well that ends well,” she mumbled, though the words rang hollow in her mouth.

She found herself stepping inside one of the brigaded houses. Inside, a man sat alone, smoking, his face unreadable in the dim light. She did not know what she was looking for. But for the first time in her life, she was the one choosing where to go.