Ostanda's Travels

[Ostanda Moreno]

Pain was her entire existence; it consumed her, fed on her, making her lash out against the world. A howl of agony erupted from her throat, blood flowing forth as her trachea cracked and realigned, forming her airway anew. Her flesh ripped and altered, bones bursting momentarily through the husk in which they rested only to be covered once more, draped in fur. She felt the moon, fat and ugly, pull sharply and heavily on her very soul, searing her with the very touch of its light. Trembling as she lay on the ground a new body, a new mind, her soul shattered she defecated herself. No longer was she Ostanda, she was the wolf, the beast, the creature, the devil, had she been of her mind she’d have prayed anguish for death. She was however, not of Ostanda’s mind, but of its, and all it prayed for was bleeding, squealing flesh to sate the burning hunger gnawing at its gut.

[Ostanda Moreno]

The sun shone harsh and bright burning Ostanda's flesh. Rousing slightly she rolled onto her back the dead leaves, and twigs on which she lay scraping painfully against her skin. She blinked, blinded by the filtered light streaming down from above her. She took a deep breath and flinched, her ribs were quite tender and the act of expanding her chest set them to throbbing. Slowly Ostanda sat and found herself naked and alone surrounded on both sides by trees that where clawed with torn and shattered branches hanging from them. Hiding her face in her hands the young woman stifled a sob as the first of what was sure to be many tears slid down her cheeks. She sat like that for nearly an hour crying and rocking herself like a babe as she tried to find some sort of comfort, yet found none.

Stumbling through the forest Ostanda tried to find her way back to her vehicle. Trembling she followed the trail of damaged trees skirting, distraught, around the body of a disemboweled doe. It was near midday by the time she reached her car, pulled off to the side of the small and little used road. Opening the trunk she rifled through the piles of clothes that lay scattered within, most unwashed. Slipping into an over-sized tee-shirt, sweatpants in hand sat in the driver’s seat and rested her head on the steering wheel, beginning to cry once more.

[Ostanda Moreno]

After driving for hours Ostanda found herself passing through a small town. It was a peculiar place that had the appearance of being disheveled and run down, yet seemingly rich and elegant at the same moment. She had the overwhelming feeling however, that she shouldn’t be there as the few people about on the street gave her piercing glares telling her that she was unwanted. The young woman looked perplexed out the window at the signs hanging over shops, of which she could only read a few words on each. There was a sign that read, ‘Apothecary.’ It danced over a beautiful building with white wash walls and large paned glass windows. Through which could be seen strangely dressed people, vials, mortars and pestles, cauldrons, and many odd plants.

Another which began with a word Ostanda didn’t recognize, she assumed it was a name because the following words were, ‘Banking and Counting House.’ It was a stunning white marble building with large windows, draped in curtains of red. As she drove past a small disgruntled looking man sneered at her. The young woman hunched over slightly a pang filling her stomach, she was starving. Ostanda looked out the window again, ‘Darkened Soul’ she read, her brain mistranslating the sign hanging over a building that was dull with paint chipped walls. Through the windows however, she saw a gleaming, elegant looking pub or restaurant. Her stomach rumbled compellingly at her. Sighing, the irony of the sign reflecting how she now viewed herself screaming loudly in her face she looked for a place to park.

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