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pencils by paris cullins
inked by aarron beatty |
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| AND EARTH SHALL CALL ME KHARIZ'MAH By Isreba Aiken isreba1949@gritzandgravymag.com All concepts, scripts, and stories ©Copyright 2006, Isreba Aiken |
AND EARTH SHALL CALL ME KHARIZ'MAH - Excerpt
Waves of winds tossed light objects into the air, thrashing them up against startled buildings, and light posts caught off guard. Droplets of rain, summoned their troops hurling floods of waters upon the defenseless concrete pavement. Trees whipped their heads to and fro in frantic search of their baby leaves kidnapped by the wind’s apathetic soldiers. Blades of grass bowed their heads and humbly begged the Gods for mercy. African drums could be heard for miles as rain soldiers thumped, in rhythmic motions, onto the window pane of nearby houses, and the tops of metallic cars parked on the street.
Small eyes glared in horror out water swarming window panes, at the war raging outside, as mothers tenderly touched their shoulders, redirecting their attention inside while closing the curtains. Soaked sneakers, boots, and high heeled shoes splashed dirty streaks of dirty water onto pant legs, and skirt hems, while desperately attempting to flee the torrential streets. Cold wet puppies dangled from heavily soaked leashes, eyes splashed with mud, darting in between the legs of giants, causing irreparable palpitations.
Behind the mass hysteria, one could faintly make out the slow lifeless steps of a woman. She never once quickened her pace no matter how many demanded. Finally she slips into a corner alley and onto a ledge sheltered by an awning.
And there she stood for a while waiting for the rain to let up. She could see frantic, miserable faces through her rain stained glasses. Drops of rain mixed with human tears filled her eyes and hurried to join their friends down her flushed cheeks.
She could see the look of despair on the faces of strangers, desperately trying to escape this watery hell. Some with umbrellas, and/or raincoats and others helplessly caught in it with nothing to cover themselves with but regret. Behind their eyes, she saw more than just a longing to be out of the rain. She could see pain... and despair. She felt a longing for peace... of mind, from some, and a longing for... just peace from others.
Her pure heart ached for their peace, but what could she do for them. If only she hadn't allowed the tribunal to take away her powers and make her human, she could have sprinkled a little happiness into some of their dreary lives. But alas her heart belonged to love, and that took precedent over anyone else's happiness... even her own planet. These were not the true markings of a"Prime She-cies" — or a super hero gone human. But she wasn't a super hero. She was never a super hero. In her mind... she was never going to be a hero.
Waves of winds tossed light objects into the air, thrashing them up against startled buildings, and light posts caught off guard. Droplets of rain, summoned their troops hurling floods of waters upon the defenseless concrete pavement. Trees whipped their heads to and fro in frantic search of their baby leaves kidnapped by the wind’s apathetic soldiers. Blades of grass bowed their heads and humbly begged the Gods for mercy. African drums could be heard for miles as rain soldiers thumped, in rhythmic motions, onto the window pane of nearby houses, and the tops of metallic cars parked on the street.
Small eyes glared in horror out water swarming window panes, at the war raging outside, as mothers tenderly touched their shoulders, redirecting their attention inside while closing the curtains. Soaked sneakers, boots, and high heeled shoes splashed dirty streaks of dirty water onto pant legs, and skirt hems, while desperately attempting to flee the torrential streets. Cold wet puppies dangled from heavily soaked leashes, eyes splashed with mud, darting in between the legs of giants, causing irreparable palpitations.
Behind the mass hysteria, one could faintly make out the slow lifeless steps of a woman. She never once quickened her pace no matter how many demanded. Finally she slips into a corner alley and onto a ledge sheltered by an awning.
And there she stood for a while waiting for the rain to let up. She could see frantic, miserable faces through her rain stained glasses. Drops of rain mixed with human tears filled her eyes and hurried to join their friends down her flushed cheeks.
She could see the look of despair on the faces of strangers, desperately trying to escape this watery hell. Some with umbrellas, and/or raincoats and others helplessly caught in it with nothing to cover themselves with but regret. Behind their eyes, she saw more than just a longing to be out of the rain. She could see pain... and despair. She felt a longing for peace... of mind, from some, and a longing for... just peace from others.
Her pure heart ached for their peace, but what could she do for them. If only she hadn't allowed the tribunal to take away her powers and make her human, she could have sprinkled a little happiness into some of their dreary lives. But alas her heart belonged to love, and that took precedent over anyone else's happiness... even her own planet. These were not the true markings of a"Prime She-cies" — or a super hero gone human. But she wasn't a super hero. She was never a super hero. In her mind... she was never going to be a hero.