Keshia is a fool, and this ‘pilgrimage’ of hers will be the end of us all. She will not share any reasoning for this tireless, tiresome journey, nor what awaits us at the top of this miserable, stark mountain.
I despise her.
She muttered the word ‘packhorse’ earlier today as she ascended the path – as though it is she doing all the work, the vacuous bitch! It is I who carry the monstrously large, soaking wet backpack, and entirely against my will too!
She bound my arm behind me five days ago, and strapped the baggage to it then. I have no feeling in the damned thing, and fear it will turn black and drop off at this rate. No amount of fury or discourse has made any difference to the situation, and the way she went about binding me was singularly despicable.
Keshia isn’t strong enough to overpower me on her own you see. She’s a willow of a woman – tall, and so lean you can see her skeleton clearer than her skin. Even her hair is finer than spider silk. She makes a streak of piss look obese. No, she could never have done it alone. She employed the help of one of the sickening pious – grey of dress, face and demeanour, who had one of those enormous origami ships strapped to her head.
A nun. A NUN.
They pounced when I was sleeping in the late afternoon, within our guest dorter at the convent. The three of us wrestled for a good ten minutes, and ultimately tore the room to shreds. I do not give in easily, and knew the aim was to disable me in some form. Eventually…they had me bound. My arm and the bag are as one now. Cracked leather straps sit upon my shoulder, enthusiastically cutting into the muscles, as my useless appendage holds the weight from below. I have not spoken one word to Keshia since that day.
I’m surprised I didn’t die from humiliation alone.
Keshia is walking.
Den is sleeping.
(This transmission may be added to at some point,…or not. That, is up to Sylo)
(For those who are new to the Cloud, please read the information at the following link regarding the Simulcast Fragments. Thank you – sonmi)