There were three of them. The first two toppled to the ground before the third could react. I stepped into the corridor as he scrambled for his weapon. There was nothing graceful about how I ripped his head off. It wasn't clean and it didn't come off all at once. How our Master would disapprove, but that no longer mattered. This time when I reached for his soul it wasn't to snatch it out of him like the two before. This time I held it in place, not allowing it to flee. I met his terror-filled stare, and hissed a single word to seal him, "Live!"
#ds42
Deiron:
Arrogance! It was never their plan to raise the Reavers. It never made sense. Why did we believe it? We stood in their way at the height of our powers! This was a gambit to hand us a bloody victory; they sacrificed all their armies while we laughed like fools. Even a hundred druids couldn't stand up to a single Magus. There were only four Magi left in all the lands, myself and my two brothers at my side and the fourth fought for us as well. They had no Magi, we had hunted them all down during the Dark Wars. We drove their druids from the land too. They did not command any magic and it would take nothing less than a mage to destroy another mage. That's when he felt it. His son...suddenly the two men at his side toppled to the ground.
I need you, we need you. If you'd only understand that maybe you'd stop fighting so hard.
Tuesday, February 23, 2016
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Rheina
Rheina froze within the shadows...a cold wind sliced through the alleyway. She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.
The stocky man kneeled over the child, his face contorted in agony. He sat back on the ground and took the child's head in his lap...in a ragged voice he began to speak, "can you hear me?" he lifted his head and spoke as if to someone in front of him, "please...no more."
The sound of the wind rose as if in response to his words. The boy coughed and began to curl up. The man bowed his head as he began to choke the life out of the child. In horror Rheina stepped forward spoke the words given to her. There was no reaction, so she raised her voice to repeat them, "Vharana, the war is done. Your Order has been disbanded..." and the wind rose once again as if to drown her voice out.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Storytelling
My stories? My young friend, when have I ever said that those stories weren't true? :) A man may accept that an island is a universe if he so chooses. That man may bind himself and his children to this same reality. And in the end a kind of magic happens, walls begin to form and it becomes THE universe. I've seen it happen a million times, I've visited these islands.
...all versions of reality are, or have been, playing out. Some based on science, some on magic, many a mixture of both...and some even stranger outside this spectrum. Our minds can go where our physical bodies may not follow. Beyond these walls that bind us physically...there are other places. To these lands physical travel is rare and difficult; however a journey of the mind, much less so, and is no less real. One need only find a guide.
Unguided, the path is one that stumbles through fragments of reality...a meandering of emotions experienced
peripherally through half-lidded eyes. You know of these as dreams. A Guide is able wake up inside their dreams to explore or change it with their waking mind. That is not to say that all who have experienced this may ascend further and transcend to guide others. But it is a beginning.
There are those who guide knowingly or unknowingly. Aware or unaware of the others. Some as historians, some as binders and some as builders. Their secrets belong to them. Secrets that unite and divide them. This, and all it entails, form the Struggle. Worlds are born, joined, ripped apart and destroyed; seemingly un-orchestrated to the short-lived. And to those who are long-lived, those who see through the walls, who's lives span existences...they know that even for them there is an inevitable truth - that reason is but a fabrication and that reality is context, subjective and fluid. This is the definition of evil, and it is the definition of good.
But to answer your original question, I do have stories to share; stories that begin and "end" with other stories. For those willing to leave this existence behind for a time, I may be able to guide them on a journey...with the caveat...the path I choose WILL be the path followed for the duration of my tale. If you choose to stray, then you are no longer guided...the story becomes your own...be sure then that you have the ability to be your own guide...because others may find your new realities an affront. And you will learn why some stories should never be told...and why there should never be any True Endings.
...all versions of reality are, or have been, playing out. Some based on science, some on magic, many a mixture of both...and some even stranger outside this spectrum. Our minds can go where our physical bodies may not follow. Beyond these walls that bind us physically...there are other places. To these lands physical travel is rare and difficult; however a journey of the mind, much less so, and is no less real. One need only find a guide.
Unguided, the path is one that stumbles through fragments of reality...a meandering of emotions experienced
peripherally through half-lidded eyes. You know of these as dreams. A Guide is able wake up inside their dreams to explore or change it with their waking mind. That is not to say that all who have experienced this may ascend further and transcend to guide others. But it is a beginning.
There are those who guide knowingly or unknowingly. Aware or unaware of the others. Some as historians, some as binders and some as builders. Their secrets belong to them. Secrets that unite and divide them. This, and all it entails, form the Struggle. Worlds are born, joined, ripped apart and destroyed; seemingly un-orchestrated to the short-lived. And to those who are long-lived, those who see through the walls, who's lives span existences...they know that even for them there is an inevitable truth - that reason is but a fabrication and that reality is context, subjective and fluid. This is the definition of evil, and it is the definition of good.
But to answer your original question, I do have stories to share; stories that begin and "end" with other stories. For those willing to leave this existence behind for a time, I may be able to guide them on a journey...with the caveat...the path I choose WILL be the path followed for the duration of my tale. If you choose to stray, then you are no longer guided...the story becomes your own...be sure then that you have the ability to be your own guide...because others may find your new realities an affront. And you will learn why some stories should never be told...and why there should never be any True Endings.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Hallways
Denny looked down at his watch, he had five more minutes to get his books and clear the hallway. His locker was on the other side of the building…he’d have to risk getting harassed by Benni and the others again. He’d had to deal with them twice in the past week and he was in no mood today.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Eve
Crickets...
Preacher sat on the front porch tapping his bottle against an armrest. Flittering shadows were cast into the night from the lamps, and the tapping of bugs added to the cacophony from the surrounding field.
There was a strange stillness in the air despite all this. Preacher tilted his head and peered into the darkness. Were it any other night he would've finished his drink and retreated inward with his thoughts. Not that he was worried. Years had worn the ragged edges off his emotions. He leaned forward to set his bottle down. For him this night would not fade into dawn as so many before.
But he was prepared and had been for years. He would react without thought when the time came.
He would react, and there would be an end to it.
His smile didn't touch his eyes.
"A breeze would be good," he whispered as he stood up to make his way down the steps. The night shifted and the darkness rippled in an outward wave. A moment of deafening silence ...
Preacher sat on the front porch tapping his bottle against an armrest. Flittering shadows were cast into the night from the lamps, and the tapping of bugs added to the cacophony from the surrounding field.
There was a strange stillness in the air despite all this. Preacher tilted his head and peered into the darkness. Were it any other night he would've finished his drink and retreated inward with his thoughts. Not that he was worried. Years had worn the ragged edges off his emotions. He leaned forward to set his bottle down. For him this night would not fade into dawn as so many before.
But he was prepared and had been for years. He would react without thought when the time came.
He would react, and there would be an end to it.
His smile didn't touch his eyes.
"A breeze would be good," he whispered as he stood up to make his way down the steps. The night shifted and the darkness rippled in an outward wave. A moment of deafening silence ...
Friday, September 14, 2007
Guardian
Suddenly the platform shook. The nine looked at each other, there was no other way out.
"So this is what he meant," Jareal calmly stated. "we have no choice."
They could feel the enemy breaking through the last walls
"This is our only chance!" Fontaine says. "We must
"So this is what he meant," Jareal calmly stated. "we have no choice."
They could feel the enemy breaking through the last walls
"This is our only chance!" Fontaine says. "We must
The House
Dale liked living in his neighborhood, he didn't know much about living anywhere else being only 12; but he imagined things could be a lot worse.
The area that he lived in was a mess of adjacent developments. There were a sprinkling of older industrial type buildings bordering one end and rolling hills on the other.
The streets were all lined with lamp posts, trees and hedges. Lots of sidewalks to keep you off the roads while residential traffic zoomed by.
What Dale liked best were the older areas. Lots of old houses and buildings of one sort or another to explore. Of course, you always had to look out for the older boys, a couple could give you trouble. Other than that, the occasional stray dog was the only other thing to look out for.
Last summer a doberman had gotten loose and bit a kid from Fahrington middle-school. They say the dog was rabid, but that's what they always say.
Today Dale was looking forward to another adventure. Francis, Skinny-June and Von were supposed to meet up with him soon at the elementary school playground. June wanted to show them something. Saturday morning cartoons were over and they were all looking forward to some new experience.
It was warm out, almost hot as Dale stepped outside of his apartment. Most people in the complex didn't have air-conditioners to use in the hot summers, so his unit, like the others all had heavy curtains drawn closed to keep the heat out. The brightness hurt his eyes hurt so he shut them and waited till they adjusted to the brightness.
He looked down and wriggled his toes to scoot deeper into his slippers. Kids didn't wear shoes in these parts. You either wore slippers or went barefoot, and that's how things were.
Dale started down the open walkway at a slow jog and angled off onto the grass. Francis' unit was adjacent to his building and on the second floor, he'd go there first and then see if June wasn't already waiting on the third.
He took the stairs 2 steps at a time and nearly stumbled back in surprise when Francis popped out at the top of the stairway just as shocked as he was.
"Dale! Ha, I got you!", said Francis, "you should see your face, I think i scared a booger out of your nose, gross..."
Dale laughed as he got to the end of the steps, "you dummy, didn't your wear that shirt yesterday? How you ever gonna surprise anyone if they can always smell you comin?"
Francis looked down at his shirt and sniffed, "liar," he looked up, "June already headed out. He told me to wait for you. He's was swinging by Von's, we'll meet up at the playground."
"I'll race you," said Dale.
Francis frowned and said, "my slippers are broke, the thing keeps coming off, I can't run."
"Fine," said Dale, as they got to the bottom of the steps. "Lets hurry anyways," and they took off at a quick trot.
The area that he lived in was a mess of adjacent developments. There were a sprinkling of older industrial type buildings bordering one end and rolling hills on the other.
The streets were all lined with lamp posts, trees and hedges. Lots of sidewalks to keep you off the roads while residential traffic zoomed by.
What Dale liked best were the older areas. Lots of old houses and buildings of one sort or another to explore. Of course, you always had to look out for the older boys, a couple could give you trouble. Other than that, the occasional stray dog was the only other thing to look out for.
Last summer a doberman had gotten loose and bit a kid from Fahrington middle-school. They say the dog was rabid, but that's what they always say.
Today Dale was looking forward to another adventure. Francis, Skinny-June and Von were supposed to meet up with him soon at the elementary school playground. June wanted to show them something. Saturday morning cartoons were over and they were all looking forward to some new experience.
It was warm out, almost hot as Dale stepped outside of his apartment. Most people in the complex didn't have air-conditioners to use in the hot summers, so his unit, like the others all had heavy curtains drawn closed to keep the heat out. The brightness hurt his eyes hurt so he shut them and waited till they adjusted to the brightness.
He looked down and wriggled his toes to scoot deeper into his slippers. Kids didn't wear shoes in these parts. You either wore slippers or went barefoot, and that's how things were.
Dale started down the open walkway at a slow jog and angled off onto the grass. Francis' unit was adjacent to his building and on the second floor, he'd go there first and then see if June wasn't already waiting on the third.
He took the stairs 2 steps at a time and nearly stumbled back in surprise when Francis popped out at the top of the stairway just as shocked as he was.
"Dale! Ha, I got you!", said Francis, "you should see your face, I think i scared a booger out of your nose, gross..."
Dale laughed as he got to the end of the steps, "you dummy, didn't your wear that shirt yesterday? How you ever gonna surprise anyone if they can always smell you comin?"
Francis looked down at his shirt and sniffed, "liar," he looked up, "June already headed out. He told me to wait for you. He's was swinging by Von's, we'll meet up at the playground."
"I'll race you," said Dale.
Francis frowned and said, "my slippers are broke, the thing keeps coming off, I can't run."
"Fine," said Dale, as they got to the bottom of the steps. "Lets hurry anyways," and they took off at a quick trot.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Lauren
She closes her eyes and steps forward; the sun's warmth rolls across her skin. Red light glows through the insides of her eyelids as she tilts her head back. A breeze.. and the heat ripples off of her skin. For a moment she forgets everything.
A faint movement reminds her she's not done. She twists the knife in an upward motion to finish her work and lets go of her weapon as the body slumps to the ground. A moment passes as she considers the others, they watch her from a distance ready to flee the moment they sense a threat.
She gives them no reason.
Lauren looks around for her gear. She reaches down and scoops it up, catching a glimpse behind her. Still no movement. Time to go.
She joins the trail as it meanders down towards the water's edge. There are footprints. She had known they'd be there. Carefully she continues down the bank. Unaware till the last moment that something is wrong, she immediately drops to the ground...silence
A faint movement reminds her she's not done. She twists the knife in an upward motion to finish her work and lets go of her weapon as the body slumps to the ground. A moment passes as she considers the others, they watch her from a distance ready to flee the moment they sense a threat.
She gives them no reason.
Lauren looks around for her gear. She reaches down and scoops it up, catching a glimpse behind her. Still no movement. Time to go.
She joins the trail as it meanders down towards the water's edge. There are footprints. She had known they'd be there. Carefully she continues down the bank. Unaware till the last moment that something is wrong, she immediately drops to the ground...silence
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