Sunday, February 16, 2014

My captor's face

The light in the sky begins to awaken the world around us, even here in the depths of the wilderness. My captors do not seem to embrace the coming of the day as do I. They have moved away from the dying embers and seek shelter in the coves of the nearest hillside, while I remain strapped to this pillar.

As the light rises, they move deeper into the recesses. Perhaps this day has become my savior. I work to study them in their plight. It is something I may be able to use against them. In night's depth they were no more than silhouettes against the background, yet in the light of day, my nightmares have surely come true. 'The talker', as I have come to think of him surely is the leader. He is taller and broader than three others,. though another is near his bulk, but quiet. His hand has sent another cowering. Their forms covered with dark wraps, make it difficult to distinguish their true nature, though I can sense the darkness of their souls.

My captors have quieted as the sun tops the fields to the east. I have come to believe they are creatures of the night airs; those creatures that invade the dreams of the pure of heart. They are nightmares; devils once of spirit, now embodied before my eyes. It is my unlucky fortune that I have stumbled across their path.

I kick again against the dirt to prop myself up against the tree. My legs tied like a pig, I can not stand; I can not run. Their voices fade as their world comes to their night, a night of daylight, and I am still a prisoner.

Sunday, February 2, 2014


My head stings, my neck stiff as I awaken to what is before me. I have been asleep for a time, my fire not what it was, as I hear the embers failing. I reach to rub my neck but find my hands tied, my ankles strapped beneath me. I look up, the pain in the back of my neck screaming as winds through mountain passes. The sky lightens to the east; it is that time before dawn when the world has not yet fully awakened.

The tree behind me stabs my spine as I push against it to adjust my back. My knees ache. I push against the dirt with my legs to straighten myself. It is of little use. My eyes sting as the salty sweat drips over my brow. I am a prisoner.

The flames that warmed me, are now no more than an orange glow before silhouettes as dark as the blackest night. The sounds of dawn begin to trickle into my ears, yet are interrupted by the guttural sounds of my captors. Five I see, squatted before the fire, their voices like claws scraping against stone. Most of their words sound foreign, though the more I strain to listen, the more I begin to understand their gravel. They seem not to care that I am here, their attentions focused elsewhere.

Someone is killing them; tracking them. Their number was once greater. They were seven. A laugh from the tallest makes light of it. My eyes widen as I come to realize I have become the object of their desire. They believe they have captured their hunter. Should they realize I have awakened, my time shall surely grow shorter upon this world and my adventure shall come to an end.

I close my eyes that I should live a little longer.