The Scorpion And The Bird

Thus not all was lost. The two two odd fellows somewhat lived in a kind of symbiosis. Taking advantages of each other in order to reach their common goal. Maca as the lifeline for zule into the mortal world and Zule as macas umbilical cord to the immortal world.

Like that they walked the land for hours. Hours became days and days turned into a week. For seven days they had walked without a break.

Without food.

Without water.

Only a few drops of water, the woman had catched with her bare hands, while it had rained. And a few animal cadaver she had eaten out of pure disstress had kept her alive. Yet time had taken a toll on her. The blond was utterly exhausted.

Seven days of lost time.

Seven days in which they could have accomplished their dark goal.

But they didn´t arrive at the Hotel. And thus it stayed of reach.

The two companions had been on their journey for such a long time that the woman feared that time itself had stopped turning. That it had frozen just to mock them. To leave them on an endless road never able to redeem. Destined to be lost. Because the intentions they held before their minds eyes were of evil nature.

The only thing that kept the woman going was her comorade. Who kept her warm when those cool desert nights endangered the blonds blood to build ice crystals. And when her lips started to turn a cold bluish purple color the fiery plumage of the bird kept her from freezing to death.

Yes, maybe her fear was reasonable, maybe it was not. It drove her to the edge of insanity and resigning. Yet the days went by and with each rising sun they would begin to walk anew. And the scorpion wouldn´t allow her blond to give up.It kept her walking. And so more hours went by, and time began to turn again. Albeit it had never really stopped. With her gaze fixed on the horizon the woman walked and walked and walked until she felt like she no longer could.

The bird scretched from time to time to keep her at task and then when the woman wanted to give up something catched the blonds eyes. Far away aligned with the horizon the outline of El Oasis glimmered in the heat of the setting sun.

As fate had wanted it she ought to attain her goal. Thus flushed with a new hope the woman began to ran. Her legs carrying her fast towards the buildin as they could until they eventually gave out under her. The womans legs tangled up and made her trip ove. And as she hit the ground a dark rumbling sound echoed through the wasteland that was no wasteland at all. They had reached civilization.

Still, within the blink of an eye and just out of reach of the hotel boundaries she lay. Unable to feel anything but utter exhaustion. Life was challanginng her, time and time again. The days had left her dehydrated and starved. The realization of her defeat let some spare tears drop on the sandy ground, just like herself it tried to achieve the seemingly impossible. In vain her salty tears tried to irrigate the ground. It tried to let life grow not considering the requirements needed for such an undertakeing. The salty tears spoiled the already dead ground. And thus she layed still, out of pure exhaustion but mainly because of humiliation. Humiliation of having failed all over again. She was done. With fighting, with staying alive... she did not fight it. Simply stayed put on the sandy ground devoteing herself to the calmness washing over her.

But as womans nerveless body hit the floor the little scorpion, that had been resting on her shoulder, got thrown away. It landed a long way off but the bird had watched from above. And seeing the woman laying there, it came down from the firmament to the quiescent crying body that lay, so vulnerable, on the dry earth beneath it. Protective Zulema lay her wings over the defeated figure that was Macarena.

With every little sob the body quaked and  wings closed in around it. Keeping her warm and safe within the cookoon of her feathers. Her safe haven from being alive.

Three more days went by in which the woman found her strength again. Like a careying mother the bird had nursed the blond back to life. Then set her free with a screetched that said

"Fly high, for this is me, giveing you all of me. Fly high, for this are the remenant of all the good I had left within."

Understanding, sore limbs unfolded themselves and arose from the ground like a phoenix would out of his ashes. The woman, back in the land of the living found herself right where she had left of. In front of the Hotels entrance.

Barely after realizing her luck a voice found the auditory canal of her ear. It was like music to her. Particuarly because it belonged to no other than the man she had seeked for so long. To one of the men who had riddled Zulema until not one inch of her being had been untouched by those awful smoldering bullets. Phantom screams penetrated her soul and eventually echoed through her mind, the memory triggered a fire to flare up in those calm honey eyes. It dipped them in a dangerously hot orange, reflecting her vivaciousness more than ever. Although, they bode ill. When the blond had exceeded over the property line the scorpion stopped. This step she had to take on herself. Zulema would take care of the aftermass. With that she let her go again, this time though, having an eye on her from above.

Lead by the voice she eve droped on. The woman walked around the hotel. And found the man she had seeked, smokeing on the terace. The man blinded by the alleged beauty of the blond did not recognize her. Nor did he see the way her eyes tried to eat him live. Or the the flames flareing within them. And when he started to rise from his seat he didn´t feel the heat the woman radiated either. Didn´t even feel that burning sensation that threatened to burn his skin away. The both opponents circled each other. Exploring the others body in an peculiar dance. Words left his mouth and Maca played along. She sang to him in an foreign tongue. Winding the man around her finger like a sticky flytrap. Her tongue like sticky syrup produceding words of such sweetness, every man or woman would fall for her empty promises.

Words as deathly as Medusas gaze had been.Truely, she was a Medusa of words. Everyone who came to hear her voice got lurred into her fangs. Turning not into stone but just as cold, the second she striked. And she ought strike soon.

Then the man as if he was in tance dared to touch milky skin. And those adhesive fingers of the woman touched him too. But in such an way Zulema disaproved of and so the bird who had silently watched from above let out a waring scrreech. Macarena looked up and so the mans gaze followed. He wanted to impress the woman in front of him and pulled his gun. Aiming at the bird. But the woman interviened this scum wouldn´t take her away a second time.

Unbeknownst to him, the man had given more wood to the fire and so the fire within the woman gained momentum. More confident her sweet nothings lured him inside. Into the hotels safe walls. Into his room. Into his doom. And there she told him more cheap words. Stripped him bare of his clothes and the guys libido grew. He was hungry for love while Maca had already been filled to overflowing with it. It had spilled over and taken her beloved away. Now she was starving to get revenge.

Their game was almost over.

Once the guy was completly deafensless the blond took his Glock from the pants that lay abandoned on the ground. Aware of what he had coming the man did not try to get away. He would do penance. And he would wait. His voice praying mumbled prayers, an gloomy company to his immediate future.

Experianced slim hands examined the gun and founf it to be12 bullets strong. The woman took her time the man shoud suffer even worse agony then her lover did. And so her perfidious voice counted ever single bullet.

"One" it hit left leg and shatterred his tibia with and nasty cracking sound.

"Two" it irrupted the skin on his righ leg and broke his patella. The man bore the pain in silence, the only sounds where his tormented runts and the cracking of his breaking bones.

"Three" this one smashed the left elbow.

"Four" it followed into his hand leaving an stikeing hole in it.

"Five" the bullet had a meeting with his bowles.

"Six"

"Seven" conveyed the once before. The blonds hair, pink with splatters off blood, fired without a twinge of remourse. With every bullet that ruptured the mans skin, one in Zulemas closed. It spend her solace. With a sullen facial expression the woman was persuaded would not stop until she had closed every gash in Zulemas body. The blond had walked around the blood drenched bed and lay the barell down on his heart. The mans intact hand reached out for the barell. His weak fingers curled around it and pushed it deeper into his skin. Pleading for it to be over. The fire in her eyes had extinguished. They were colly.

"Eight" his hand droped off and other like the twitching body below, the woman didn´t flinch as the bullet pierced the mans heart and sprinkled her anew with purepure blood.

"Nine"

"Ten" both followed shortly after. This man ought never love again. Not on in this world, not even in the sternmost corners of hell.

"Eleven" the man was still alive, scarcely but alive.

The twelth bullet waited. Takeing in the moment. She had all the time in the world. Gloating over her deed before her hand changed it´s position. The blond put the gun in between his eyes. Yet, when the man, in his lasts breaths of life, looked up with his weary eyes he saw not into the face of death. He saw the woman and in her eyes there lingered no death. He looked but all he saw was her beauty and her unblameable smile.

"Twelve" Her hand pulled the trigger for the definite time and the bullet cracked the mans skull apart. With a nauseous snap the bone broke and set the bullet free on the other side. His brain was dripping down on the ironic beach wallpaper behind him. Mixed with blood and bone fragments.

She had extinguishing the life within the mans tired eyes. She had redeemed him albeit he didn´t deserve it. And all the pain she could possibly inflic would never enough to still her hunger for vengeance.

Death, she thought blood smeared, is only a mechanical error the body gives out but the soul continues to live. The mans eternal suffering in hell brought the blond at least some sort of cold comfort. It was enough for the time being. Sure, when the man went he was enlightened. He had payed for his depth by doing penance and went into the abyss as a free man, but his doings had been bargained for only his own prosperity thus he was doomed in to purgatory, regardless. So the man, aware of his sins transgressed the gates of hell.

And the woman...

She continued to walk.