"--Shakkar, grimaced in pain, as he soared over the edge. Even though a natural cocktail of dopamine and adrenaline was coursing through his veins, he felt the searing pain of a sharp arrow pierce his core. He tried to cry out but the pain had left him breathless. He was airborne. As the fog approached, his anger flared, directed at the bowman. If Shakkar survived this, he would remember his face. He had noticed a unique marking beneath his left eye. Royal Blue? Shakkar thought. It looked like an emblem designed for a marksman, and a marksman he was. He was clearly an expert in his class, and the pain that paralyzed Shakkar's nervous system as he plunged beneath the cold desert waters, was proof of that craftsmanship..."
To be continued...
Above is a recap from the end of 'The Peasant' Episode 1: The Fall If you did not read that episode or any others, here are the links:
The Peasant (Episode 1: The Fall)
Episode 2: A White Light
SPLOOOOSHHHH!!! Shakkar hit the water, but it felt more like concrete. The white water swallowed him and he felt himself pulled immediately and with such force that he could not reach the surface. He was caught in an under-toe, smashing into underwater rocks as he was pulled down the stream. Shakkar weighed about 185 pounds. He was strong and possessed unmatched agility. Now, as he bounced like a pinball off of the underwater rocks, his body struggled against pulverization.
"-AHBO-BLUB-LUBB-UBBLAHH!!!" Bubbles erupted from Shakkar's mouth as the arrow that was now hanging from his back, snapped off on a rock, as his tortured body slammed into it. The water that filled his mouth after his cry tasted like iron and he thought it might be the flavor of his own blood. Such pain. He had been trained to keep himself calm, but as he searched the dark gray swirling waters for the surface, he found himself on the verge of a panic. With each thrust with his powerful arms, he could feel the buried arrow, tearing his flesh. Surely, if he could not reach the surface to feed his oxygen starved body, even the burning-will of his spirit would not save him.
With all of his might, he pulled hard for the surface. Once, then again, and again. He was counting each pull. In his mind, he thought, if I can stay conscious for five strokes, I'll hit the surface and breathe that sweet, cold desert air. This was not what happened, but when he got to five strokes, he restarted the thought. If I can stay conscious for five strokes, I'll hit the surface and breathe that sweet, cool desert air.
After thirteen strokes, he found the words of his thought fading. ..smooth ...desert ... hair... No, this was not right? Shakkar, thought, ...soft ... degart... snair...? Why could he not remember?
He felt the cool water as he drifted, limp, barely beneath the surface. He was dreaming, of nothing. It was like floating on an enormous white pillow of light, but the pillow was not a pillow, and the light was all that was. The dream was so sweet -so inviting. He might have resided in it and elected to rest, eternally, if he had not felt the strange tickling on his ear. What is this, pesky little nibbler, nibbling away at my earlobe? He thought, with a lackadaisical ire. He made a slow swiping motion toward it, in an attempt to brush it off like a mosquito. The back of his hand felt the slimy scales of a hungry fish, who had been waiting for him to die. The amphibious creature intended to have a feast, from Shakkar's freshly perished flesh. Just as he had nearly succumbed to allow the intruder access to his ear-skin, he remembered his situation. His consciousness reinstated itself with a mind-splitting force.
THUDD-THUDD His heart, beat hard, one time, and the coursing blood that it pushed felt like barbed wire, slithering through each of his veins and capillaries. A flash of hot, RED, flooded his vision, striking away the soft white, pillow light he had been floating in. He thrust, one last thrust, and broke the surface.
GU-OOOHHHHHH-OHH-OHHHHH!!! He gulped in sweet, succulent gulps of air. The euphoria brought from the fresh oxygen to his brain, temporarily impeded all the pain signals that the nodes of his bruised and lacerated bodies nervous system were sending. Thrashing on the top of the water, he felt his eyes crying. This was an emotional reaction which he quickly thwarted, but later, he would savor it. Though, he wouldn't ever share it with another soul....
To Be Continued...
This is the second episode of a fictional series that I am writing, titled, 'The Peasant'. This was Episode 2: A White Light.
If you wish to follow along then go ahead and give me a follow so that you can see the new episodes that I come out with. I am 
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--Original Story by Jonathan Caleb Williams:
--Original Photo by Jonathan Caleb Williams, created using, GIMP (GNU Image Manipulation Program.)