Re: Fools! There will be a King!

[Miranda Frost]

All aboard.

Miranda could never forget the day her training was complete. Transportation was something that her town lacked. There was nowhere one couldn't reach on foot. There were no roads exiting the town either, save for one lone railroad. The old machine's peeling red paint was nearly indistinguishable from the rusted metal beneath. Besides the engine itself, there was only car attached. Only two would be carried this time.

Miranda couldn't forget the rain that broke the three year drought the morning of their departure. The sky's sorrow brought joy and means to celebrate to the people of her home town. It was funny actually. The dense rain hid her heavy tears. She knew well what lay at the end of those tracks. Her mother did as well.

While the air had cooled from the rain outside the train's cabin, the atmosphere inside had remained hot and humid. November was glued to the cabin's window, watching the desert go by with that stupid grin on his face. He always lived in the present, not caring about what carried them there or what lay ahead. He never believed in a set destiny, a predetermined timeline. In his mind it was all fluid rather than concrete. There was nothing he couldn't change.

He was a fool.

Free will was an illusion. There seemed to be choices, though all paths were laid out from before they were born. It can be devastating to know what lay ahead, knowing that all ones efforts will amount to nothing against fate's torrent.
The skies wept because not even the will of the planet can change its eventual fate.

Miranda knew what lay ahead, even if her mind could not accept it. She remembered her body trembling the entire trip. November would glance over and try to pry into her emotional walls and fail miserably. Miranda could not afford to spoil the endgame.

"You couldn't believe it even if I told you", Miranda had told him. She nearly had to hit him to get him to back off.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Her sleep came fast, even with the rough ride that the truck provided. Her muscles relaxed for the first time in what would seem an eternity. Had she been awake, she might have complained about how sore she was. Instead she sat limp with her lone eye closed while her substitute remained opened and active, shining its weak like across the busted dash board of the truck. The lack of proper windows let the wind play at Miranda's hair without her consent.

To some her face may appear blissful in comparison to the facade she wore when she was awake, a side buried deep down only to return in a state of unconsciousness.