“More than 200,000 people die in the United States from septic shock and hemorrhagic shock each year. Shock is defined medically as a condition of abnormally low blood pressure associated with poor blood flow to the tissues. It can result from physical damage (hemorrhagic shock) or from infection (septic shock). In shock, too little blood goes to vital organs, such as liver, kidney, intestine, and brain. This causes cellular damage, loss of function of organs, and, ultimately, death. Hemorrhagic shock is primarily caused by traumatic injury, from automobile accidents, bullet or knife wounds, and falls. “
I never wished to see her. I could still remember the stare of her blood red eyes that choked him to death. Yet . . . I could her soul calling for help. I felt her innocence. She was lost and I am the only one who could help her find her way back home.
I observed as she entered the “shouk” (marketplace). Chava, whom she refers to as Enma, was busy trading the goat milk with the merchants she lost sight of her. She looked very different from the first time I saw her. Her clothes were sewn typical to the villagers, but the blue linen made her beauty radiate. She is not from the village and the villagers will soon notice it. Chava is a fool to think she could hide her identity by sewing a dress fit for the locals. Her skin is fairer than the women in the market place. Her hair is blacker than that of a goat. Her smile emanates a spell bound to make you lose your consciousness. She was too naïve to see how the old jewelry kept looking at her while she held the peridot necklace in her hands. She was looking at her eyes. I feared the worst. I feared a strategy may befall the village. I feared she may unwillfully commit murder by gazing her stare to one of the villagers. I came close to protect the old lady from her gaze, but it seemed I came closer to protect her from harm.
The villagers knew who she was. She was the stranger that cursed the land. She was the reason for the death of the beautiful Amahlia who was adored by everyone in the village. Her grace is enough for you to forget your worries. I gazed upon her beauty once in the forest when she came to pick some flowers. She was a rare gem, but the stranger was a cursed star. The elders were expecting her arrival and poor Chava was too estranged for living alone on the hill for decades. She failed to anticipate the danger soon to befall her newfound daughter. It would have been her end or the village’s end if I did not catch the arrow before it hit her heart.
I did the impossible. I risked taking her hand and keep her safe from the wrath of the villagers. I was confused, but I knew this is the right thing to do. Protect the innocent from harm, but is she really innocent?
We arrived at the hill of Chava. She was grasping for air. It seemed this was the first time she ever ran that fast in her life. A cool breeze blew towards our direction. It reminded me that I still held her hand. I slowly let it go. I avoided her stare. I feared she would remember me as the man from the shore.
I left her alone.
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