pg 42 - Separation issuesMature

Apologies for posting so late, it's been really busy. Hope you enjoy the page though and please continue with your feedbacks and comments, I enjoy reading them very much.

PS- Take a look at the video I've added to this page and page 2, adds a bit more information for those interested. The one on this page is just a short clip on the Spanish Invasion and the one on page 2 talks a bit on Malinalli/Marina, the girl who helped Cortes. 


The silence is deafening. The calm before the storm.

Then more screams can be heard echoing across the city, following one after the other like some horror show orchestra. I hear the sound of things being destroyed, more cannons or arms firing and absolute blood-curdling terror ringing in my ears.

Before I know it, a huge crowd of people in Aztec clothing come sprinting around the corner. Most of them are women, with a few men I assume to be warriors or farmers in their midst. Babies are strapped to backs and toddlers are being dragged along or clutched to mothers. Many children have become separated from their parents and their dusty faces are streaked with tears and are crying out in desperation.

As the fleeing stampede comes closer and closer, Aidan drops his shield and spear and pulls me behind him, bracing himself for the impact. The crowd hits us like a battering ram and as much as I try to keep hold onto Aidan, I feel his grasp on me being forced away.

The background noise fades away, and the only thing I'm aware of is the feeling of my hand being pulled away from Aidan's fingers. The unusual calm that had come over me changes into pure panic. I feel like I'm underwater, nowhere near the surface and struggling to breathe when I feel the last bit of myself slip through his hold on me.

I look up as the crowd carry him away, his arm still outstretched towards me.

I get pulled in the opposite direction, the people running past me shoving me back and forth. The feeling of being pushed up against the wall of a house has so much force it knocks some of my already short breathe out of me.

My hands at my side grasp what feels like a handle and I realize that through all this chaos, luck has finally dealt me a fair hand and lead me to a door. I fumble around, eventually turning the handle on the primitive wooden door and fall through. I pull the door off its weak hinges and cause the dust to fly as I land on the floor.

I crawl on my hands and knees, getting to a corner of the clay and stone hut. I huddle there, clutching my legs to my chest and tucking my head between my knees as I continue to hear people running away outside and others screaming in the distance.

There is a new addition to this symphony of despair: the sound of armour clanging and men's voices coming nearer. With the accompaniment of the male voices comes the sound of people being slaughtered like animals. Death and anguish are tangible in the air, suffocating me like a thick blanket.

The End

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