Ineffable: Adjective: Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words
This mission to see the ineffable beauty of creation is bringing an ineffable amount of exhaustion and soreness to my limbs. I’m lagging behind everyone in our group to the point where I can’t even see the person in front of me, and it’s not because it’s dark. Before we got separated, I heard the kids in front of me talking about how much of a pain it is that I came along. About how I should have just stayed at home.
If my parents didn’t make me, I wouldn’t have come.
Rearranging my headlamp, I huff out a puffy white cloud into the cold night air. Do those kids think talking smack about me while I’m right behind them is going to help the situation? Did my parents consider that this little trip might actually make it so kids like me less than before, seeing as though I have been slowing down the whole group?
Of course, I guess that isn’t the case anymore. I can’t see them or their flashlights. Forget following people, I’m following footprints like some tracker in a sasquatch show. No. Not going to thing about sasquatch or how it’s rumored to live in these woods. They probably just said that to scare me.
A twig snaps behind me and I freeze.
Now, that’s a great word to describe my fear. Even if it isn’t sasquatch, it could be a bear or a cougar. It could even be a person. What if it’s some kind of psychopath? Why have I stopped?
My feet begin moving again of their own volition at a quicker pace than I was moving in before. Fatigue was settling into my bones before, but now a shot of adrenaline has given me a heady amount of energy to fuel my fight or flight instinct.
Another twig snaps.
I can hear large footprints catching up to me. I’m being chased.
Before I know it, I’m being tackled to the ground. I scream for help, but still can’t see or hear anyone I know ahead of me. A large hand curves around my head and covers my mouth. Not sasquatch, then. At least there’s that.
“You shouldn’t travel alone in these woods, little girl,” a deep male voice whispers in my ear.
I’m not a little girl. I’m almost fifteen, but I’m not about to argue with Scary Guy. I struggle and kick to get him off my back, but he doesn’t even budge a little.
“Shhh,” he hisses into my ear. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he coos.
That’s a good way to describe how incredulous I feel at that statement. Beside the fact that I’m all scraped up from being landed on and I’m sure there are bruises forming where he’s holding my wrists behind my back, he can’t really expect me to believe he doesn’t intend to harm me.
He continues to shush and whisper calming words until I give up struggling. If he thinks it’s because I trust him, he’s crazy. The adrenaline has worn off for the moment and I feel a little like I’m going to pass out.
“There we go, princess. Now, are you going to be good and come along with me quietly?”
He sighs. “Very well, then.” I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head and everything goes black.
~ ~ ~
Perfect word for the strangeness of waking up in a giant room with expensive dark furniture and decorated in sapphire blue with white accents, reminiscent of a sky between twilight and night.
Glancing at my hands, I see there are no injuries. How long have I been out? What am I doing here? Why did this sociopath keep me alive rather than kill me on the spot? At least, I’m assuming he’s a sociopath. There’s no way he could have known that I would be out in the middle of the forest by myself. Then again, given the opulence of the room, he could be a psychopath. Ugh. It doesn’t matter what kind of insane he is. I have to get out of here.
Throwing the blankets off, I head for the door, only for it to be opened in my face. Backpedaling, I run behind a couch as if it will protect me from the strangers entering my room. One is a middle-aged man with a golden circlet, of all things, around his head. Behind him is a younger man, perhaps a few years older than me. Each have long black hair, and midnight blue eyes.
“This is the one?” the older man asks.
“Yes. She’s perfect,” the younger one responds. His voice reveals his identity as the man who kidnapped me.
“I’m not the one,” I snap. They both lift their right eyebrows at me. Are they father and son? “Send me home. Now.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, young lady. My son has chosen you, you see,” the older man explains soothingly, as if that makes any difference.
“I don’t care if he’s chosen me. I’m not–”
“You are. And you will stay here. I’ve been watching you a long time. I know you are right for me,” the younger one interrupts.
They both sigh. “No matter. We’ll just keep her under until the time is right for her transformation,” the older man says to the younger.
The younger man scoffs. “Of course. You don’t expect me to be of any use like that, do you?”
I frown, but before I can say anything, the older man is suddenly in front of me, placing his hands on both my cheeks, and I’m losing consciousness again.
“Don’t worry, dear. We’ll take care of you,” he says.
Best to describe the hopelessness I feel as I fall unconscious.