Rhythm of the War Drums-Begining
2005-01-10 - 8:30 p.m.

The Rhythm of the War Drums

“Swaying to the rhythm of the new world order and counting bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drum.” ~A Perfect Circle

All around her ashes were falling. The only sound was her heart rocking itself to sleep in its’ cradle of bone. It was as if she were beneath a heavy blanket, she struggled to push away the dead weight of dead bodies from above and around her. She dared not open her eyes for fear they would be greeted by more horror then she could already feel. Quiet, it was so quiet down there. No one was left. Reaching above her again, as if swimming upwards she caught a handful of hair and tugged at it. Not many of them had hair left, this one must just have fallen over into the pile from exhaustion. It was morning, and she opened her eyes to a nickel-sized pinhole of light.

If she had a name, she supposed it would be Echo. That was the substance she thought she was made of—pieces of things. Echoes, silences, anguish, hope, shadows. Unlike most people, she wasn’t sure where she came from, but she always knew where she had been. Her past clung to her like static and anyone who touched her felt the shock of it course through their bodies. Usually, she had a vague sense of where she was going, but never of when she would get there. This time was no different.

Echo had awoken on the forest floor, tangled in vines.

yesterday - tomorrow