Flesh I Arya Tandon

Flesh

Arya Tandon ‘21

shape above her...

Clamping her mouth shut, Sun failed about in a helpless rage, stomach churning with acid. She could not die here, would not die here.

“Foolish girl,” the voice purred with pure malice. “NO ONE escapes the magistrate.” The voice was everywhere and nowhere at once, oozing into her pores and solidifying her blood into lead. This time, her scream pierced the air, but the deafening echoes just bounced off the walls, again and again without end.

10 years later.

The ocean was a mirror. Smooth as glass, calm and collected. Sun lay fat against the scratchy, makeshift raft, staring listlessly into the sky. Sunset had just settled in, transforming the expanse around her into a volcanic eruption that glowed with both fre and ice. In the dimming glow, the divot scars on her back fared as clearly as the memory of the fateful day of her assault.

Sun glared, bolting upright. Here she was, a foating particle in the middle of the ocean. Temporarily safe. Pain was no stranger--she had grown accustomed to the cycle of capture and escape, a masochistic game of cat-and-mouse. Even though she had witnessed the magistrate’s lair, an open grave brandishing the genocide of the Tanmei women, an entire decade ago, the memory continued to haunt her with nightmares of torn bodies and bones under torn silks.

Nowadays, she was an insurrectionist, wanted by the magistrate for a gargantuan price. The open waters were her only safe haven, but she was tired of running. Glancing across the indefnite expanse, she shivered at the thought of what lay ahead, nor did she know if she would be able to handle the consequences. No doubt the magistrate would soon receive wind of her whereabouts yet again--he was taking no chances at the threat of a revolution.

Shutting her eyes, Sun inhaled, the long, shaky intake of air burning her lungs with the salty whiff of brine. Oh, in the glowing sunset, the golden rays warmed her back, her cheek, her hands, and closing her eyes, she felt for just a second like the girl she once was.

Just then, a gust of evening wind whistled past her ears, and her eyes snapped open as the idyllic moment vanished. In the rippling water, an unfamiliar refection, wearing the dull lines of exhaustion, grimaced back. The mirage followed her movements, and she watched herself lift rough fngertips to her right cheek, ice-cold in the shadowy eclipse of the sun. Where used to be warm fesh and smooth skin was replaced with a gouged out pit of festering scars and barely-healed infections. New, pink skin stretched tight over the bumpy ridges, a cruel souvenir from her escape.

A great shudder ran throughout the length of her body, and she thrust her fsts into the still water, pounding and thrashing until the grotesque image was but an indiscernible phantom of seafoam.

Suddenly, thunder broke overhead, and the indigo sky split open with heavy, grey raindrops. Throwing her head back, she relished the cold against her burning face, and howled into the empty expanse.