The origin
A chance
There on the sunlounger she would wait for the light of day to eventually fade into nighfall,
until it was time for the moon to fall again and the sun to rise anew,
for the night to give away to the light of day, and so forth.
And the woman waited.
Day and night changed in an seemingly eternal cyclus of rebirth, falling fot the other, keeping the woman await for a long period of time.
Yes, once more time seemed to play with her. And although, it is always easy to push unpleasant thoughts aside, it is never easy to face the truth. Thus, the wait was a necessity, more so, a lesson to the woman.
Do harm, and you shall feel the repercussion.
Kill, and you shall fall by your wrongs.
Be death, and when you take the innocent down with you,
and evil bribes your heart,
then you too, shall become evil.
And you ought be banned from walking the land of heaven and earth.
But try to break the cycle,
do repent your injustice,
and you ought be free.
So it was that the passing days faded into one infinite time.
The woman before long, so much was clear, had to face her demons. And evven though time gave her respite, to reevalueate her deeds, to divide between right and wrong. The woman it appeared, had no moral compass at all. Somewhere on her journey it must have slipped away. Perchance, just like the memories of her lover, it had dwindled away between the grains of sand. Leaving behind, only featureless shadows of what once had been. A mere feeling of something more valueable to her. However, unable to place it, to know what that might have been at the start. It remained unknown to her. Only for time to disclose that secret.
But time, time was running out. Unhastly rippleing through her fingers like those cursed grains of sand that had lost her lover.
Yet, in the end the woman had no other choice, she had to wait for days on end. It was Time´s attempt to force her in the right direction. So she could be redeemed. But the woman was sacrificeing her place in heaven, wasteing time she not really had to gift, instead of rueing the lifes she had taken so ruthlessly. Without any sentiment she was planing her next kill.
And the house.
The house had abandoned the woman for good. After her last kill it had given her one final task.
Finish what you have started.
Like a mantra, it repeated itself over and over again in her head. Since what had been started shouldn´t be stopped. Not so close to the finishline anyway.
Then the house had repelled the blond from it’s grounds, taunted the woman, laughed at her for it belived it had won. That it had successfully taken her soul. And in a way, it had done just that. And if not taken her soul it had at least created a unscrupulous beast. That was now awaiting her next victim. Numbly she sat there on the sunlounger. The calm before the storm. Her poisonous yellow eyes standing out, like the burning sun, through the brownish red maskerade of dried blood. Her gaze fixed on the glinting hot sand in the distance.
The savior
However, with the house gone, the bird and the scorpion, were allowed back in. The two comorades where her guides, her consciousness, her saviors in disguise.
Ultimately they had found their way back to her, although with dismay, as she was detemined to slay for one definate time.
If it would not have been for the bird, the exhausted woman would not have lived. For in that single teardrop. That had touched the blond’s forhead. Had stuck a piece of Zulema´s soul. One of the last few relicts of a her own doomed soul. But a soul at last.
Apparently there had been more good than they‘d believed. And that in itself, was more than the blond could give herself.
So, with nothing else to do she kept on wasteing time, prepareing to play God, and for what? For a feeling she could not place, That drove her to do unspeakable things.
The problem was that she felt to remorse at all. And it wass than that Time began to fathom the woman.
<She could not be saved before she finished what had been started. Before she would finally get closure through takeing the last one out. Hence it yieled in to the woman´s sinister intentions. Because at times revenge is neither good or bad. Thinking about it sets it’s meaning. The only problem was that neither one was inculpable but both were guilty.
So Time let her go. And this time it was Time itself that began to wait for the woman to come clean with her loss. It would stand steady in it´splace, on hold, for the woman to be enlightened with a deeper unerstanding of the horror she has caused herself. As behind everyone of those awful man, there stood a family, that the woman had caused suffering. Similiar to her own. But Time would wait until the woman´s own redeemer would rise before her and her comorades would guide her through this last step on to the road of understanding.
The origin of all sorrow
On one peculiar morning, it was when the purple light from the night faded into a light rosy tone announcing a new day, that the orgin of all her sorrow, appeared at the edge of the horizon. A flickering sillouette corporealize bit by bit in the distance. He who was the source of all this evil that had befallen her. The one who had ordered to catch them, dead or alive. The woman took shelter in the shadows of the hotels and morphed into it´s body. Awaiting his arrival.
Unbeknownst, he had come to be judged by his own Last Judgement. So he walked towards his end. Not out of free will, at all.
His men didn‘t return to him and so he had to come search for himself. What he found at the Hotel however, disturbed him. The man could smell it before he saw and the blond godess he encountered in the lobby, he was aware, was part of the reason why.
He came and didn‘t try to get away, his fate was sealed. He smiled sadly at the woman, in a way understandingly. After all he too, knew the pain the woman experianced all to well himself. He was also aware of what he had done wrong. Eventually he opened his mouth and began to tell her a tale.
"There was once a scorpion and a bird, not anything alike, actually they were those two are enemies in the real world. But in this story they made friends with each other...Or so it seemed.
The bird, a budgie, so much was obvious, did not belong in the desert at all. It was in fact, without anyone responsible to keep the little birdy alive, condemned to die out there on it´s own. And the burning sun had done it´s job. As the little feathered crature had become so weary that quite soon it would lose it´s life.
How it is in those stories hope came it´s way. In this case a scorpion. It saw the helpless bird, and although they were typically enemies, the scorpion saw that this bird did not belong in the wasteland out here. Self-centered it decided to help the budgie, to shape it anew. Becaue perhaps it could be useful to it in the future. And with time it should be proved to be right.
At first the bird was leery of the scorpion´s tries to help it, as it had heard that those creatures kills beings like itself. But as soon as the scorpion told the budgie about a place were humans had found water it yielded in to following in it´s path. Human´s meant going back to go home.
With it´s weak body the budgie was in no condition to fly. Hence it had to walk behind the scorpion. And it found that they were more alike than it had initially thought. Side by side they walked their way and soon enough the two odd fellows came to an Oasis.
There the bird drank and ate enough to stay alive. And slowly but surely it returned to it´s true self. Yes, for a short period of time they lived together in peace. The scorpion was able to go outside in the light of day, as the bird served him as protection and as the bird was still to weak to fly that was enough for the scorpion.
That was until the little bird had returned to perfect health. It started to fly around. So high up in the sky, that the scorpion could lost track of it. It feared it would possibly lose it´s companion. And when it decided to come back down the bird would tell the scorpion how free and wide the sky was and whom it mett up there.
Everything the bird mentioned was what the scorpion was yearning for since it was able to think. Libertad. And the fact that the scorpion could never have it made it furious. So much that it became jealous enough to lure the docile bird into a malicious trap.
It had told the budgie that in order not to starve they had to find another place to stay. But their way would lead over a river. However, the scorpion confessed to the budgie that it could not swim and in order to cross the river the bird had to take them both over to the other side. It proposed that they should bind themselves together so it would be easier for the bird to drag them both over the water. The good minded bird agreed. And thus the scorpion brought them to the river.
Bound together they ran towards the treacherous black water of the river and jumped. Everything seemed fine until the weight of the scorpion pulled the bird into the dark abyss below.
And although the scorpion had not lied, it was not able to swim, it had not told the whole truth. It was in fact able to wade over the river floor and emerge, unharmed, on the other side. The bird however, kept underwater during that time by it´s ill friend, had drowned.
On the other side, it was the twist of fate, the scorpion ran into the fangs of an grasshopper mouse, that ended it´s life aswell, leaving the bird still bound to the sorpion behind."
The woman had attentively listened to the Mexican. And she acknowledged what he had tried to say with a nod.
Do not let hate guide your actions, it´s consequences will come for you. For even a dead person is able to avenge the injustice that was done against them. There is always someone who sees everything and will assign everyone their fair punishment.
She had experianced injustic, then she had killed and now she would judge Ramala.
In the face of death he continued.
"The death of a loved one dips you into sticky sadness. It wraps you up and keeps you hunting for more and more and more and won´t let you go until you do u something about it.
I understand what you did and what you are about to do to me. Hell I wanted to d just that too. And I began to kill you all...I did it because I blamed you for the suicide of my daughter... It does help. Killing I mean. In a way, it does. But it´s not enough. After killing Zulema I came to realize that I could inflict as much pain and takes as many lifes as I want but even that would not bring her back.
It drives you into madness. And if you´re not able to stop you end up living in an inbetween world." Maca listened closely. He tried to come clean to.
"Revenge, just as hurt is like sticky syrup." he smiled at her sorrow-strickend mien.
"Maca, getting revenge is, to some point, justified. Valid even. But in the end it will destroy you regardless. You might feel relief for a moment in time. But soon enough, when you calm down from your rage trip, you will see that killling takes an even bigger toll on you."
There´d been a time a long time ago when the blond would have yield. But the woman had changed, her morals lay elsewhere now. There were plenty of reasons why she had changed but there was one in particular. A certain scorpion had poisoned her long before she had taken right and wrong into her own hands. It was the main reason why she was alive. Her poison had made her immune to the cruelty of the world. And she knew. It all would come to an definite end soon. That she would not have to live with this feeling the Mexican was talking about.
Her consciousness
Thus the woman smiled at him. Picking the scorpion up from it´s place on the table next to her.
"No." she said with a bride smile. Her mouth talked different from her mind.
"It‘s just what I need." -to feel alive. she told the man while shakeing her head, looking at the calm animal resting in her palm.
But by saying that one thing became clear to her. He was right. This is her hurt speaking and rather sooner than later her fassade would break. And so she quotes the bible in a vain attempt to validate her following actions.
Her voice had become oddly calm.
"Eye for eye," she started to walk around him.
"tooth for tooth," circleing him.
"hand for hand," her circles becoming smaller and smaller with every verse.
"foot for foot," her touch, although barely there hurt the mans skin.
"burn for burn," one hand closed around one of his thick arms, burning it severely.
"wound for wound," her other hand found it´s twin, giving it an equal burn.
She had invaded his personal space but he did not flinch. Not at the wounds on his skin nor at her proximity.
"When you inflict pain, You ought be prepared for it’s repercussion." The woman´s sticky lips murmured into his ear, sending him a cunning smile before continueing.
"For every bullet that dwindled away in her, Suleima‘s fragile body," she elaborated the obvious, more so as her pointer finger started to riddle his body like the bullets had done Zulema.
"I took justice. By takeing takeing lifes. And with every" she came to a hold in front of him.
"single ...wound." time and time again her finger smacked into Ramala‘s chest angry and frustrated because he was right with everything he had said. But she wouldn´t allow it be true. Not now so close to the end anyway.
"I inflicted on one of your men, one in Suleima‘s body closed. I could see it clear as day. Like a there was a light that got blocked by a cloud. You know a body should not shine. Yet it does since someone had riddled her with bullets.
I will not stop until she is whole again." Her rapid movements had stopped still.
"There are only a few holes left.
You will be the last piece of the puzzle.
And I am not afraid of any consequences. For what do I do? I’m lost. I don’t belong here. Neither in heaven nor on earth. There is more out there then we are let to believe. I will find mine home." Her eyes fell down onto the scorpion in her hand with a faint smile. Perchance, she though, even an idea can be a home.
Lost in thoughts she carefuly raised the hand that held the scorpion. Really slowly it positioned it‘s defiant stinger before Ramala‘s forhead. Time seemed to have slowed down, and for a while the stinger hovered in mid air. Before the Mexican could do anything. Zulema stung him between the eyes. Just like she had done when she had walked upon the land of the living. It was her way of mocking people. Showing them that she had no respect for them. That they were repugnant.
And so just like the man before them collapsed with a hideous thud to the floor, the scorpion rolled itself together, it had given it’s life.
Since in the end this right there was Zulema‘s revenge too. The scorpion had passed on.
Although, her venom would not be fatal, she had taken closure. It had been for a greater good as it would leave the man weakend enough for the blond slay her last victim with ease.
The woman´s eyes fell to the motionless body on the floor for a second. Then, as she wanted to lay the scorpion to rest, she found her palm to be empty. The scorpion had ended in smoke. Had it never really existied in the first place? Perhaps it was all dream. In a dither she pushed that thought aside for now.
And Ramala
She grabbed him by the colar of his coat and dragged him to the room where her killing spree began.
The final coup
Ramala awoke on the floor of that death haunted room. Due to the scorpion poison within his body he had started sweat. And his eyes twitched franticly back and forth. Finally they met the woman´s. The blond could go on and tell him more how he had taken everything good from her and what not, but frankly she had already told him everything that mattered.
In all probability she wouldn´t have had time to do so either. Ramala had difficulties breathing, his body jerked every now and then and he sarted drooling. Listening absently to the sweet noises of approaching death, the woman drenched him in gasoline.
"You shall burn in the lake of fire for enterity." were the last word the destituted man heard before the flames took over his body.
He began to burn alive. Horrible screams of agony arose as his flesh was burned by flareing fire. Awfuly slow it his skin shrank due to the heat and opened up to the bloody raw flesh that lay underneath.
Then the Mexican´s joints began to contract. All the while the woman harkened in awe.
After some more minutes of horrendous screams the man´s organs started to shrink as well. Through the heat of the fire even his bones began to dehydrate. And with every crack of a fractureing bone, within the cloak of burning flesh, finally one more wound in Zulema´s body closed. It was a painfuly slow process but ultimetly his lungs collapsed and he was released from his torment.
Yet, although, dead Ramala would never wade to the other side to heaven. As a matter of fact he would never stop burning at all.
He kept on burning and at some point the crystals that formed his bones started to melt. Completly, the Mexican melted away in the fire where he ought stay stuck in the womans honey trap, banned to the lake of fire, forevermore.
The flames nurtured themselves at the mortal bodies within it the hotel but it kept the soul of Ramala. Her eyes, reflecting the flareing red flames, calmed down to a warm orange as the lake of fire before her set the desert around the hotel on fire.
The sand would burn and turn to glass. And the glas would finite break.(1) But the fire ought never burn out. And as long as the eternal fire would burn. Ramala would stay in hell on earth. The woman had promised him to burn in the lake of fire. And the world kneeled before the blond. She needed closure. It would grand her that. It finally saw that it had acted to hastly, that the woman´s path of understanding had just begun. It was enough for the world, her good intentions were cherished.
Alpha
The woman distanced herself from the bale she had caused. It was in the past. Thus, without looking back she stepped outside the front door.
The fire kept burning. Breathing as if hell was alive. It’s flameing tongues slithering around them, but those were the white lies of Ramala´s face. Emerging from the fire, screaming after the profane woman but to no avail. He was constrained to the flames. And the world outside had fallen silent, so hush like we imagine death to be, as the woman stepped over the doorsill into a new tomorrow.
Behind her the bird. Like a phoenix it seemed to rise anew from the ashed clouds of the burning fire behind them. She was freed of all her burdens.
Freedom was all around her and the bird flew away. Into the sky. Vanishing between the peacuful white clouds of smoke.
The woman began to walk upon the land of the living again, alone, but she ough be free to fly if she ever wanted to.