The rain was relentless, cascading from the sky in thick sheets. It pounded against the land, leaving puddles on the ground. Trails became small, muddy rivers that flowed down the hillside. While trees and plants enjoyed their shower, animals sought shelter from the stormy weather. Everyone in the Gasa village remained inside as the summer monsoon continued its assault.
In the candle-lit lodge room, Carrie peered at a blank diary page. Jago received two journals from the same tourist during their last hot springs trip. The downpour pounded the roof with a thousand drums.
Sighing, she lifted her pen and wrote her recent entry.
Dear God:
It is now day ten since I started training with Jago and Pemba. I will not lie, Lord: the first few days were hell.
Whenever I complained or became frustrated, they corrected me. Pemba hits my head. It’s not painful, but it’s enough to teach me. Jago only needed one disapproving stare. Even now, everything appears blurred.
Pemba’s language training was tedious. Jago was not kidding when he said learning Nepali was difficult.
Carrie recalled a sunny day when she struggled to repeat Pemba’s words. Although patient, Pemba grew frustrated, so Jago offered to assist. He worked with Carrie to dissect the phrases and reassemble them.
I’m doing well, but I still have a lot to accomplish. It was also the same when Jago taught me martial arts. We once stood near a tall tree, and he showed me how to punch.
When he hit the trunk, bark flew. I stepped back, expecting the tree to fall, but it didn’t.
It seemed easy until I tried it.
***
Carrie faced the tree Jago used to show a basic punch. The monk remained on the sidelines, observing. After taking a stance, she delivered a decent strike, but nothing happened.
Jago crossed his arms. “Try again, but harder, and don’t hold back. Also, don’t forget your breathing.”
Carrie adjusted her posture. She took a deep breath as her muscles relaxed. Once again, she struck the tree. The results remained the same with an added effect. Carrie screamed as she pulled her hand away. A burning sensation flared around her red knuckles.
“Are you alright?” Jago asked.
“No.” Carrie shook her hand to relieve the pain, but it worsened from that action. “You make it so easy.”
“Nothing is easy. Martial arts is a journey of self-discovery and growth that leads to a higher level of physical and mental well-being. While living at the Tiger Shrine, I practiced my punches and strikes on a boulder in the courtyard.
“My hands hardened enough to numb the pain after many cracked knuckles, minor cuts, and hairline fractures.”
“How long did it take?” Carrie asked.
“About fifteen years,” Jago said.
“Oh God, I don’t think I can handle that.”
“Not if you put your mind to it.” Jago motioned for the girl to offer him her hand. “When we started training, you wanted to change and be normal, right? So, another question: are you changing for society or yourself?”
Carrie paused at the question. From her old hometown, she tried everything to prove she wasn’t like her mother, but it was all in vain.
Jago examined the girl’s injured hand, noting her silence. “It’s okay to improve yourself, but it’s never enough if you do it for others.”
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Killer Instinct: Carrie Unleashed
Fanfiction"Carrie had an ability, but she was a person, not a monster. She had hopes and fears, and we pushed her. You can only push a person so far before they break." A dark veil fell over Chamberlain, Maine, after tragedy struck the quiet town at the hands...
