Burden - Prologue

[TJayne89]

Sweat ran in rivers down his back as the sun reached its peak in the sky. His overworked muscles strained in protest as the pick axe slammed into the earth throwing up shards of dirt that littered his bare feet and settled in the ankle folds of his second hand pair of trousers. Rope held the waistline in place as the pockets falsely promised to hold fast to anything you placed within the folds.
Ryan rested the axe’s curved metal head on the ground, leaning on the tip of the handle for support. His intake of breath came in sharp sudden bursts as he tried to slow his overburdened heartbeat. He wiped his forehead on the meagre amount of tattered sleeve he had remaining, turning the material a darker shade of brown.
He squinted into the distance trying to see through the heat haze that remained a constant reminder of the dismal existence that was his life. Hard times and compounding pressure weighed down on his shoulders. The constant demand to be the man of the house was bearing down on him like an iron fist threatening to pummel him into the ground. The only time he felt at ease was when he was alone in the field. A routine that he knew he could accomplish, no one constantly pushing him to be better no matter how hard he tried.
Ryan looked to the North where the horizon was smeared with indistinguishable shapes shimmering under the heat of the day. The haze was deceiving, distorting images, causing things to seem further than they appeared. A dilapidated windmill, leaning with the threat of falling at any sign of disturbance, spanned only a few spaces from Ryan’s position but it seemed an age before he could reach it. Its long blades remained stoic and silent, an ominous symbol of heat and dry conditions.
Further afield, mountains rolled along the horizon overlapping in a layered formation, their peaks towering at various heights. Ryan dreamed of the mountains and what lay beyond their steep facier. He’d heard stories of the world that lay beyond but times had changed and the stories had stopped. Merchants no longer visited along the riverbed of the South, hocking their wares. Their boats could no longer navigate a river with water reaching only to the tops of his ankles. The once prosperous town now lay in ruins, struggling with day to day life. Ryan thought it wouldn’t be long before the town collapsed completely.
Ryan had been at it for hours, yet the earth remained as unrelenting as ever. He left the axe to balance on its point, stretching his arms towards the sky in an effort to release the tension in his back. The sound of his bones cracking lingered on the air like a gun shot. He kicked at the dirt. Little clouds puffed and settled in the blink of an eye seemingly undisturbed by his sudden attack.
Off to the East of the field loomed a dense forest, no light seemed to penetrate its barriers. Errand Forest cast an aura of foreboding, welcoming no one to its folds. Limbs twisted and contorted as they stood guard against the outside world. Trees that frightened the towns people, seemed enticing to Ryan but he couldn’t leave without Sara and she wasn’t ready yet.
An image of his sister’s face swam into his mind. Shallow cheeks and cracked lips detracted from the beauty that had been lost below the effects of hunger and poverty. As the man of the house, his father should have been providing for the family, pulling them out of these dismal conditions and into a life they deserved instead of constantly pushing him. But he didn’t, he … No, he wouldn’t think about it.
Ryan could feel the anger swelling inside him. He focused the rage into the one thing he had control over. Returning the axe to his grasp, he thrust it into the hard packed ground. He felt the vibration up the length of his arms, the impact spurred him on. The sharp point loosened and turned the dirt. Ryan used to see the dark, moistened earth beneath where new life would soon flourish, but now all that was revealed was dry clumps of ground where his seeds would struggle to take root.
He powered on, this was all him. This was something he was good at. He took a step backwards and thrust the axe into the ground again; loosening and turning the earth, feeling the anger slip from him and a sense of invigoration with every step. Soon the rains would come. He pushed aside the seed of doubt at the back of his mind. It had to, it had been far too long already.
A wavering form approached from the West, the town provided a backdrop that could easily have been mistaken for a picturesque scene if not for the fact that Ryan knew the truth. What once had been beautiful with its historical buildings and harbor providing a hive of activity for the import and export of farmed goods. Now all that remained was a ghost of its former self eager to be remembered under the guise of a heat mirage.
The heat shimmered over the tips of the long dry grass. Each blade standing to attention as though pointing accusingly at the bright sphere hanging high in the sky. A dirty shade of yellow seemed to hug the earth, refusing to let go, refusing to let life and colour blossom under its tight hold. He sighed in exasperation at his surroundings. It was not a place that he desired to call home but, none the less, it was. Nor was it a place that he wished for, for his sister.
She made her way towards him brushing her palms across the tops of the long grass. Every day at this time she would come out to the field and watch him work, waiting for him to finish so that they could use the last half an hour of daylight to practice. She was a good student, picking up the movements quickly but her over-eagerness prevented her from being as good as she had the potential to be. He just hoped he could teach her enough before time ran out for them.
He raised the pick axe ready to strike the ground one last time. He paused mid strike. A crow cawed and flapped its wings rapidly in a nearby tree. He looked around just in time to see the black bird just before it stilled, blending with the crop of branches.
As he turned back to his work and his approaching sister, another movement caught his eye. Three figures moved with purpose as they made their way towards him, their movements were mechanical and in sync as they bridged the gap between themselves and Sara. Something about the way they glided across the ground brought hairs to attention on the back of Ryan’s neck. There was no rise and fall in the cadence as they moved, just a smoothness that was accentuated by the black cloaks that swirled around their bodies and covered them from head to toe.
Sara, sensing Ryan’s sudden discomfort, turned in time to receive the cloaked figures. With no lapse in stride, the three mowed Sara down. There was nothing Ryan could do. Everything happened too fast as he watched his sisters tiny body collapse to the ground, a puff of dirt pinpointing where she stood only moments before. He feared the worst. Her lifeless body, so small and fragile lay amongst the long dry grass. Ryan hefted the axe high in the air, ready to charge Sara’s attackers with an uncontrollable rage. His face contorted into a battle cry that never made it to his lips. The cloak wearers surrounded him.
An overwhelming sense of relief flooded him as he saw Sara lift her dirt marred face from the ground. Her eyes as wide as saucers as tears streaked her face. Her vibrant red hair littered with grass and debris. She stretched out a hand to him. He dropped the axe as he stared at the cuts and abrasions on the palm of her pleading hand.
Ryan felt a sting to his left arm. Before he had a chance to investigate the source of the pain, a hessian bag was placed over his head dousing him in darkness. The smell of the hessian burned his nostrils as his senses dulled into nothingness.

[j_johnson556]

Excellent description, painted a clear picture of the once lustrous landscape thrust into a dying light. I felt like Ryan was displayed well, would be interested in reading more.