Thursday, January 23, 2014

Eyes of twilight

The light of the fire illuminates all within its grasp, except my foe. His darkness nearly absorbs the light itself. He is blacker than anyone I have seen in all my days. He steps forward, a wicked smile upon his dark face. Again his words rake across my ears, their sounds, gutteral.

"You should not be here."

His words spit at me from across the distance, yet I hold firm my ground. I take my eyes not from him as stumbling sounds assault me from behind. I am surrounded. I fight the urge to look, to turn, but I cringe at the thought of turning away from what is before me. My blade though sharp, feels no more than a toy within my grasp. His blade is one that is true.

"My travels are my business." I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly as parched as a desert flower. My skin floods with perspiration, raining, as if I were standing before a hundred such fires, yet I muster the courage to respond. "I will go where I will."I straighten, that I would stand as tall as I am able.

A sudden snap, the sound of cracking brambles makes its presence known above the snapping of the flames, and I am forced to turn. My circle is dwindling, the light failing in the gathering darkness. I raise my blade to challenge the new, but twilight stills my eyes as I fall to a blow upon my neck and I am thrust, into nothingness.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

A dark blade

The snarling voice I hear behind me is almost unrecognizable as words. I spin quickly, bringing my dagger up. I hear a boisterous laugh as my fingers tighten about my blade's hilt. Would that I now have taken a proper sword on this adventure. What now stands before me, I have never seen the like.

"Leave this place," I challenge. I feel the heat from the embers upon my leg as I stand firm beside the flames. My senses are exploding at the visceral emotions welling up within. Again a guttural laugh replies to my words.

"You are alone in this darkness."

I struggle to understand the words spat at me. It is a voice that sounds like rocks tumbling down a hill during a thunderstorm. Never before has my skin crawled with fear as it does now. I feel the sweat boiling from my pores, soaking my clothing from beneath. My hand is so tight around my blade, I feel my fingertips may rupture.

I step back again as he raises his blade. His form nearly doubles my height, though he is slender, nearly wraith-like, yet I do not doubt his manner. He is dark and foreboding, the dancing light giving subtle definitions to his shape. I step back yet again as he steps forward, the blade he wields dark, even by the fire's glow.

"You should not be here," the voice crackles. "This is my place."

"I shall go where I go." I am surprised by my sudden surge of vigor in the face of the unknown, before darkness that tests my nerve. My feet step forward without my consent, refuting the intimidation that crawls upon me.

Another laugh from the darkness presses my ear. We are not alone, yet perhaps, I am.

Sunday, January 5, 2014


It is with heart, a lustful look forward that any adventure we wish to undertake begins. I remember that first day that I decided to ultimately pursue this adventure, this quest into the unknown. I was giddy with anticipation. In that moment, that instant of time, the world outside my walls filled with all that I could imagine, all that I could dream. My plans then began in earnest to walk from these valleys into a world I could only imagine.

Unfortunately, I have come to find that most of my adventure is cloaked in boredom. I had dreams of vistas unseen that stretched to horizons untrod for years. What I do now after weeks of this journey is walk in the shadows of the same mountains that kept me prisoner. My eyes endlessly search for new frontiers, but I am alone with my thoughts. Come the rising of the sun, I my heart soars with the endless possibilities that may unfold with the new day. Yet, come the failing of the light behind the distant mountains, I am once again disappointed. The night acts as a cover that stills my dreams and snuffs them out as a candle beneath a wet, wool blanket.

The flames of the fire begin to die before me as night takes hold of the surrounding world. Though the sounds of light no longer linger in my ears, those that inhabit the night begin to make their presence known. I prod the embers with my stick, the warmth bathing me as my back begins to tense. I feel a presence, a presence that should not be here. I swallow hard as my throat becomes parched. I feel the lump therein as my skin begins to crawl, the hair standing on end. As my hand falls to my weapon, I know this shall not be a quiet night.