Demetra Adams-Kane

Keala'ola

Keala’ola: The Path Through Hell for Healing By Demetra Adams-Kane “Number 443729. It’s time. Get up.” The one called 443729 opened her eyes to a dark cell. The guard casting a silhouette in its doorway was the only form she could discern around her. Forgotten upon waking, her dreams abandoned her to a starkness that could only contrast with the soft remnant of feeling left clinging to her eyelashes, a vague nostalgia. Hope seemed to fall from her clothes like dust as she staggered toward the cell door. The only solace that still clung to her as she emerged into the harsh lights of the prison corridor, now remembering herself, was the heart-shaped locket strewn around her sore neck. It was her last possession, and her last grip on her sense of self. She would need that for the task ahead.