At Peace, Not Rest

Here’s a bit of midweek flash fiction for your enjoyment.

Dahlia’s gasp broke the silence as she sat up. Grass shifted in her hands as she grabbed for anything, tearing from the ground in her grip. Raising her hand, she opened her fist and watched the grass drift lazily to the ground and disappear, melting into the green.

“Hello?” The words fell flat and Dahlia doubted they any distance. Standing, she rolled her shoulders and picked a direction. Hours slip away as she walked. She thought, but nothing else moved. Even the sun stayed at its apex.

She stopped, crossing her arms tightly. “This isn’t right.” Dahlia didn’t bother trying to speak loudly this time.

“But it’s peaceful.”

Spinning she raised open fists held near each other. Trying to grip… something. Dahlia snorted and looked at the person sitting on air. Not a girl, but no woman, she swung a leg rhythmically beneath her.

Wrong. “Peaceful?” Dahlia asked.

“Yes, I brought you out.” She tilted her head to the side smiling. “Saved you.”

“Saved me?” Dahlia sucked at air, her lungs constricting. “No, this wrong.”

“This is peace.”

“Brought me out?” A flash of elsewhere blazed and darted away before she could grab it. “Send me back.”

The woman frowned scrunching her nose. “I can’t do that. There’s only mess there.”

“Send me back.” Dahlia moved forward reaching out to the woman who screeched. Her hands speed together ready to grab an arm when the world twisted.

Dahlia stood on a battlefield, sword in her hands, and screams all around.

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Be sure to check out the other Wednesday Words authors’ take on the prompt.