Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

In the hush of the woodland, Neva stands behind a seated Rhett, her posture a little curved forward, she combs his hair with her gentle fingers—arranging his lush locks.

They had changed into clean and dry clothes, and they were now, lounging on the even, rugged shoreline of hard rocks.

Neva adorns a fresh, soft amber, lacy cotton couquette flowing dress—fluttering just above her ankle, roomy on her baby bump, embracing her swelled bosom in a sweetheart carve—and a slender pleated strapped adhering her light summer dress.

While Rhett throws on a black t-shirt with a deep, wide neck cut, and grey shorts.

Neva cordially, delicately ties his longer hair with her thin black hairband—into a half messy bun, combing down the loose hair down his nap.

"Rhett look at me," she says, caressing his chin, and gently turning his head to face her. Rhett's swaying legs submerged in the clear emerald water, he ceases his motion underwater.

His loving eyes drowning in her engrossed shimmering orbs—as she deligently draws his hair. Her soft fingers, stroking spare hair strands, designing over his temple.

She smiles, sundering away her hands from his hair. She clasps her hands, "You look dashing!" She exclaims, admiring her art on the man she loves.

He chuckles, "Do I?" She nods in reply, "Yep, you are charming." With the elapse of her adoration, she pecks his appealing lips.

He smiles, enamoured, gleaming in love with her. "Should we leave for home?" He asks, they had drifted away hours in the woods.

The sun had salted away, lurks the inflowing, creeping night in the silhouettes of cavernous trees. Ferieness of the daylight, winding soothing breezy evening.

Golden rays of twilight, rushing through the unbarred rifts of the serried trees, reflecting parallel streaks of glitters on the ripples of breathing water.

Radiating, glistening, unraveling to travail an idyllic mystical closure of daylight in the woods.

"I don't wish to, but we have to leave." Neva breathes out, such pleasant day has come to veil. She peers ahead at the cascading downrush of white water shower.

"We'll come back some other day." He assures, arising to his feet. She glances up at him, a smile enlightening her beautiful face. "Okay."

The wedded pair, strolls through the serene woods, forging their own untrailed paths. The resonating roar of waterfall fading far into a distant, softening the scene along the rustles of leaves.

Evening carol of little songbirds, the crooning of owls, furry squirrels passing through the wild bushes.

The golden glowing, twinkling emergence of fireflies flying, hovering over, Neva almost discerned appearance of elfin, pixie fairies with lurid wings in the ethereal woodland.

But, Rhett had sensed something erroneous in the air. Nearly gripping his heart in fear. For; he did not wish, anyone or anything to purloin their hard-earned peace.

Heart in peace, life merged in broken shards, wrecked mind ever so often evokes fear in the sereneness.

Then, creeps anxiousness, demons chanting intonations of guilt and unworthiness. Quotes the dark red blood rushing in the veins, a fact; the lilly of the valley, summons volcanic mountains of misery.

Discernible, faint violent screams follows Neva's strides still, her feet cold and unmoving.

She clenches his hand entertwined with her own. She swallows a painful knot formed in her throat, grasping his arm, the rumbling of human motion, shaking the ground.

Glancing down at her trembling form, he holds her arm, "Don't be afraid," he whispers, taking out a black pistol tucked in a concealed holster, hidden inside his t-shirt.

"What's happening? Are they here for me?" Her scared eyes on the gun, as he surveys the loaded firearm. He looks at her, his eyes mellow, her teary eyes numbing his chest.

"It's fine, I'm here with you." Assuring, he kisses her forehead.

He caresses her cheek, "We have to be fast and quiet alright?"

They change their course, running through the silent shadows of the eerie woods, through the slits of ponderous bushes, tall trees, small streams, open—untouched land. Clouds of grey smoke upsurges in the air. The gore smell of burnt flesh and burnt houses, torturing the senses.

She tightens her throat, fighting the urge to vomit.

Neva's clueless, she doesn't know where they would run to, where they are headed to. Rhett leading the way, he shoves away pricking twigs, branches and leaves, shielding her behind, holding her hand tight, aiming to speed faster than the forest flies.

Neva feels her mouth salty, her rapid heart thrumming in her ears, her eyes blurry, head dizzy, breathing heavy. She clutches her belly, her pace drowsier.

He glances at her, harmonising with her steps, for he's almost dragging his pitiful wife. "Angel?"

"I can't," she chokes out, her body succumbing to weariness. His eyes softens, at end, he ceases his strides, having her feet halt alike. "Are you in pain?" He asks, concern dripping in his tone. She faintly shakes her head, cradling her sweltering hand on her heavy abdomen.

"I'm sorry, let me carry you." He says, unescorted by any more words from her, he has her feet up in the air, cradle carrying her in his arms. "I'll exhaust you," Neva murmers, her arms wrapped around his neck.

He chuckles, his tread hastier than before. "You're light as a feather."

Neva ponders, his words are deceiving. Nevertheless, she doesn't dare even breathe out loud, for fear she might throw up now.

She rests her head on his chest, she had surely slowed them down before. His movement at present keen and brisk, he was strong enough to not be burdened hardly by her weight.

Neva had not gained much heaviness, not far away from her pre-parturiency weight. Her changing form summing-up with a belly only pregnancy.

But, only she was affected by the comfortless, crammed load of carrying a tiny human in her womb.

He could see the church, they were almost out in the opened darkened sky. The violent noises only becomes louder. "Can you walk now?" He glances down at her, she nods in return.

He gently places her feet down on the ground, she looks at him, he was sweating. He nudges her gently behind him, securing.

His senses clear, he conforms his hold on the gun with a silencer on, gripping with both his hands, aimed at a distance.

The man with reddened eyes, within tall, lush bushes, adjusted his rifle in attempt to shoot at their perfect posture.

Too amateur for Rhett. He hadn't even heeded to the change of his form.

For, Rhett's bullet had noiselessly blasted off his pistol, and the lone, savage, deemed greater shooter than any of their gang had a hole explode through his forehead, piercing through the brain and stucked at the parietal bone of his skull.

His body, silently, with a rustle of the bush, drops down dead on the earth.

Neva realizes what had just befelled. Rhett had executed someone from the assailants. She covers her mouth with her palm, an insermountable churning in her stomach, she couldn't stop the urge to throw up. And so she vomits out, facing away, over dense bushes.

He turns to check on her. She bends over, puking alarmingly, making her throat sore. He bundles her disarranged hair, holding them up behind, for her comfort.

Neva calms a while later, she straightens her form, "Water," she asks, her voice barely a whisper. Rhett removes the strap of the bag from his right shoulder.

A strap still swung on his left, he brings it to the front, zipping it open, he fetches out a bottle of drinking water.

He hands it over to her, as she takes it from him, gurgling and spluttering out. After she cleans her mouth, she drinks three gulps of water.

"Are you alright?" He caresses her cheek, wiping the water with his thumb, from the fringe of her lips.

His gaze, deeply worried, frown lining his forehead. She nods, "I feel better."

"There seems to be no one else around," he says, scanning ubiquitously. "We need to get inside the shelter underground the church."

Neva nods, they had altered their familiar route to home. He had led the way to a crosscut, the area they stand has been proven genuinely safer.

The core of the wilds, the entrance of the woodland, in and around, dabbler, unidentified armed intruders had swarmed in and around.

No living local citizens could be sighted, she prays, they had all hopefully taken shelter from the explosions.

The screams of the savages terrorizes the countryside. Armed with illegal weapons, they had tyrannically cut down anyone in sight. They had burned houses, burned the unfortunate humans alive.

Booming gunshots firing in the air, blows up thundering explosives in the air. They ablaze the crop fields, the homes, their own kind.

Pungent stench of sulphur from the eruption of gunpowders, blood blending with the earth, livestock slain, people slaughtered.

The terror of losing life grovels, a collosal, bloody grimy, faceless monster crawling closer to devour you whole.

The horror of tragedy stiffens the nerves. Looms agony and dead over the once peaceful flourishing countryside of Ziriri.

Cold creeps arises on Neva's skin, her vision blurring with tears surging in them. Rhett secures her hand in his grasp, moving forward with accuracy, surpressing the sounds of their pace.

Neva caresses her belly, her baby moving. Her lips quivers. Why should the world be so cruel?

Happiness was just an illusion, reality had been almost abandoned, cocooned safely in the tranquiled space with the lover.

Now, when the battle tore through the ground; the softened heart dreads the war.