Category: Uncategorized

A Portrait of Death

by smithaw50, posted in BLOGGING 101, Uncategorized

 Part 1: A Late Arrival 

    The night sky was obscured by a hard rainfall.

      No thunder, but it felt imminent.

      Everything had been laid out for my guest, but he was late, and given the fact that our meal had gone cold and gelid, I stopped expecting him and enjoyed a cup of dark red wine that held a gem of amber firelight in its ruby hues.

      I sipped, savoring it, and was drifting toward sleep when the knock came, rousing me out of a drifting dream state.

     He’d used the heavy metal bar curved through the jaws of a badly sculpted gargoyle knocker I’d taken a fancy too and purchased; it looked more irritated than menacing, which is how I felt at receiving guests in general.

    But all of the servants were in bed, and in a flash of beneficence I decided to let them sleep, and went to answer the door myself.

                                                           *************

    He’d taken a human face for this session, an affectation for which I was grateful, but it was the shimmering black robe that caught my attention. For all the millenia he’d worn it, it wasn’t tattered, frayed, dirty, or worn.

     It seemed made of liquid obsidian, and rippled with his movements, seeming to surround him instead of adorn him, for when he sat down it didn’t spread out.

    “No scythe?” I asked.

     He grinned. “Not needed. It’s symbolism, mostly.”

    “Then how do you…?”

    “It’s fine, don’t worry. Are you prepared to start?”

    “W-well,” I stammered a bit, “it’s just that people are used to seeing you with it.”

    “There are countless pictures of me holding one, but tell me, do you really want to do what everyone else has done?”

    I started to answer, but the question in and of itself gave me pause.

    “I…I suppose not.”

    “Good. Are you prepared?”

    “Yes.” Then I clarified. “To paint you, that is, not to…”

    Again the small grin. “Of course.”

                                                      **************

    He posed himself just so, the gentle hues of candlelight reflecting off his robe as if underwater, clear and flowing, not obscured or murky at all.

    There was pristine quality to him that belied his calling.

    I chuckled as I sketched the outline. “Flowing robes.”

    “Pardon?”

    “Oh,” I said, flattered he was even listening, “I said, ‘flowing robes.’ It’s a term used to describe–”
    “I’m aware of its use. I just didn’t hear you.”

    “Well, the thing is, yours actually does, or seems to…”
    He didn’t answer, leaving my unspoken question drift into the air.

    In the distance, I heard the first roll of thunder herald the storm.

Part 2: An Early Departure

    The mix of the wine and lateness of the hour, and the patter of rain and low thunder began to wear on me.

    I thought I saw drops of darkness start at his sleeve, falling and coming to rest on the floor like ink, and slowly spread.

    I blinked, put down the brush, and rubbed my eyes, thinking it to be an illusion, but when I opened them again, they were still there, now drifting toward me.

   I ignored it, and looked at Death’s face.

   Nothing had changed from the time he walked in; his skin hadn’t paled, his countenance was still, and there was an emptiness to his gaze that brought to mind this was more of an annoyance he was doing as a favor to me than an honor. 

   Indeed, it was.

   The obsidian color never lost its shine as more of his robe dripped and pooled, spreading across the floor like an ebon fog.

   I was rooted to the spot, no longer painting.

   “W-w-what’s happening to me? I don’t understand…”

    Again, the grin. “The longer you paint me, the more of me you capture, I also capture you.”

   “But if  you take me, the painting will be unfinished!” I heard the plea of rising panic in my voice as the fog coiled around me and began its slow ascent.

   As the thunder rolled, closer than before, lightning flashed and the rain fell harder.

   His obsidian robe and human guise sloughed from him, leaving only his alabaster bones.

   He rose and walked toward me. 

   “Do you not yet understand, dear painter, that all the portraits of me were finished by me?”

  The flowing obsidian was cool against my flesh as the brush and paints fell, and my vision, as its color began to match his robe, was undisturbed by starlight, save for the amber firelight suddenly captured in the void of his eyes, and on the blade of his shimmering scythe.

Transitions

by smithaw50, posted in BLOGGING 101, fantasy, Uncategorized

 I was bent over her, offering what small comforts I could in her final moments, but yes, I was also curious as well when I looked into her eyes.

  They were yet beautiful, and still full of life, but restless despite my murmuring of vague and pointless reassurances she’d be fine, when she was so clearly not; they couldn’t seem to focus on my face.

   As I was the one responsible for her current state, I wasn’t so sure I’d look at me either.

   She’d lost a lot of blood and was starting to tremble, her right hand squeezing mine in a desperate attempt to anchor herself to the living world as my tears fell on her cheeks to mingle with her own.

   I called her name.

   For a moment, it brought her back from wherever she was, and she stopped trembling.

   “Help me,” she whispered through dry, cracked, bloody lips.

   “I want to help you, but you have to choose. Now.”

   The scent of her leaking blood was intoxicating, and as much as I knew what I would have chosen for her, it had to be her decision, and hers alone.

   She struggled, blinking rapidly, and breathing became harder.

   Her wounds filled and emptied with red life with each heartbeat, and I trembled myself from the sheer effort it took to keep my focus.

   Again, the squeezed hand for something to anchor her and keep her safe from the unknown realm of spirits.

    “I…can’t…”

    I smoothed her hair from her forehead and pulled her close.

    “Do you trust me, then?” 

    “Yesss.”

                                                     **********

    Despite my frantic need, the bite was tender, the herald fangs well placed, compensating for the curve to fit snug into the vein that would give me back my own life, cursed as it was.

    I sobbed with the pleasure and gratitude of the warmth that filled me, pulling the wasted nourishment away from the holes in her body that spilled it on the ground.

    Holding her with both my hands on her back, braced in my arms, she shuddered against me as I worked. Her loud gasp of finality was music in my ear as she slumped against me, and her nails scratched my forearms.

     I felt her life slip, and bit deeper in a final bid to make this work. It was selfish and cruel on my part, but I couldn’t let her go yet. 

     Caught up in the sensations, I closed my own eyes and gave myself over to our moment.

                                                    ***********

     I don’t know how long we stayed in that terrible, tender tableau of damnation, but her skin was cold against my cheek when I felt her lips move to give me a tender kiss and whisper my name.

     My eyes opened, boring into hers, looking for fear, questions, loathing, and horror at what she’d allowed herself to become. 

     There was only a calm acceptance, her eyes as clear and lovely as ever, scanning my face.

     “You came back to me.” 

“I never left, you fool.” She nestled on my shoulder.

I suppose, all things considered, she didn’t.

No, They’re Not Asleep

by smithaw50, posted in BLOGGING 101, Uncategorized

 The things that can scent you in the dark, that track you by the smell of your fearful blood, and the things that feast on the small, red, stringy, buffet that is you, don’t take their rest by day, as you would hope, or once believed.

   No, dear child, their thoughts churn, and their dreams give them power. 

   Their lack of humanity robs them of all innocence, and there is no divine judgment on their soulless bodies.

    They’ve already made plans for tonight, and you will never know when your part of town, or  all of your farms, forests, festivals, and sabbaths will be a day of bloody carnage and a Valhallian feast for the damned.

                                                        ************

     Sometimes, they fight among themselves with a great slaughter, but the diminished ranks are always replenished.

     It’s neither quick nor pretty, this refilling. 

    Some are quite willing to die, and some are so wretched they will beg to belong, no matter the cost.

    Others will be turned, and still others, turned away, but those are seldom left alive.

    These plans, at times, have brought undue and unwanted attention.

    Those who bring it are willing to risk the consequences, and bigger losses ensue.

    The ruination is glorious in scope, and the air smells of wasted humanity proportional to the scope of the war. 

    They’re stupid, fragile things, these humans, but they’re sense of self cannot be denied. A rebellious, vain, and silly lot, they are not inept at fighting their enemies. They will cry, and mourn and wail, but they will not stop fighting all the way to their own demise.

   But soon, their end must come.

   Be there to witness it.
   Be there to help it along.

   Be there tonight, child. 

   No, they’re not asleep. 

   They never are.

The Passing: Shiftings (Chapter 29)

by smithaw50, posted in BLOGGING 101, Uncategorized

The walk to the Cancelers Palace took the better part of the day, and we arrived at the gate in the late afternoon, when the sting of the summer sun began to ease.

Tyrel removed his robe as the day waned, and I took a quick look at his physique, pleased with what I saw, if uninvolved; it would not do for a Canceler to be unfit, given the dangers involved.

Caution, Little Mother.

I smiled and felt my face heat; it seemed the spirit of my deceased familiar was now privy to my thoughts.

**************

The palace grounds were immaculate, attended by women in peasant garb, their hair tied, their gloves tight, and the face nettings stifling and concealing all but their eyes.

“Is this for their protection, Tyrel? It seems a bit cruel.”

“Bees thrive here, Tina. So, yes, in a way, it is, but it’s also for our protection. A cast spell that’s misunderstood because of the netting can go awry; it eliminates the possibility of any threat within the walls.”

They knew what they were doing, these men. I seethed a bit, but as there was nothing I could do to stop it, I refocused on the task at hand.

In other circumstances, I would have asked Tyrel to tour the garden in the late day sun, and also in other circumstances, I would have gladly done so with Tyrel. As it was, Abdiel was holding fast against the approach of the Cancelers’ collective power now that we were close enough, and though I didn’t feel any different, I still inquired.

“Abdiel?”

We are well, Tina.

I was relieved to hear it, but he was subtly, frequently, almost…..reluctantly, shifting inside of me still, restless and agitated. I was having trouble keeping my balance, and let him know.

It can’t be helped, Tina. They’re trying to find us…there are wards here, too.

I walked beside Tyrel. “What did you do, lead us into a trap? Abdiel says there are wards…”

“I didn’t know about these, Tina. I swear.”

I wasn’t ready to take him at his word: “You didn’t feel all this power around us?”

“You didn’t either, save for Abdiel.”

“These are your people, Tyrel. The fact that they deceived you could mean you’ve been away too long.”

“I don’t know. Things definitely felt different the last time I was here.”

My mind almost burst with questions, but I quieted them; too much was yet unknown, and if his people changed things and became unfamiliar in his absence, he was just as vulnerable if not more so.

“Were you gone too long, then?”

It scared me that he considered my question before answering, “I don’t know.”

********************

The watchman was all business, and Tyrel was hard pressed to think on his feet.

“Is this your prisoner?”

“Yes.”

“Her hands are bound, but if she has magic, she can still cast. Why didn’t you gag her?”

“I took her magic.”

The watchman oozed skepticism, but Tyrel held his cool and kept his expression neutral. The man was weighing the validity of the response, considering the source.

“You are well regarded here, Canceler, I meant no disrespect.”

“None was taken, watchman. You fulfill your duties well.”

The gate opened. “Enter, Canceler Tyrel. Keep your prisoner silent.”

************************

I kept thinking something was wrong; they should have been able to detect my magic, bindings or not. Abdiel claimed to be stronger than before, and if I could feel him, they should have sensed his presence. Our presence.

I told Tyrel.

“I managed to put a shield around you, Tina. It was the only way to get you inside.”

I hadn’t felt it at all. That concerned me even more; there was a subtlety to the art of Canceling then, one he hadn’t revealed before.

“What happens now?” I asked.

“I have to present you to the Council of Elders.”

“Won’t they know you’re protecting me?”

“I don’t know, Tina. As I said, something’s off, and I want to to stay to see what it is.”

“Won’t they punish you as well?”

He lost his patience: “Dammit, girl! You’re like a toddler with all these questions.” He lowered his voice, regaining control. “I’ve only just returned. I don’t know what they’ll do, but we’ll find out together and face it, whatever it may be.

“I promise.”

Abdiel stirred, but it was Zephyr’s voice I heard. I will shield us all, Little Mother.

The Passing: Inner Voids (Chapter 28)

by smithaw50, posted in BLOGGING 101, Uncategorized

I woke to the sound of Tyrel singing to himself, and the smell of roasting rabbit.

The sun was just breaking the horizon, and a few cirrus clouds fanned out like horse tails across the sky, lit underneath with the blended pinks and blues of an ending night and a new day.

I propped myself up on an elbow and rubbed at crusty eyes. “When did you get back?”

“Yesterday. I couldn’t wake you, and I had no need to, so I let you sleep. Bandits would have picked the place clean.”

“Abdiel was guarding things, and spirits don’t sleep.”

“No, but they do disappear.”

Tell the boy we are here, and we never left your side.

“Abdiel said to tell you, boy, that they are here, and never left me.”

He frowned at that, and I couldn’t suppress my grin. Sometimes Tyrel could be so full of himself, he needed a little deflating.

“I heard him.” He didn’t rise to the bait and say more about calling him a boy, but what he did say turned the tables, and it was my turn to worry. He stopped tending the rabbit, stood up, and directed his words to me without looking at me.

“It’s best we not get too familiar, Tina. I know how I am, and I will not have you or the spirits you command belittle me.” He cut off a slice of the rabbit and brought it over to me on a piece of hollowed out bread. “Do we understand each other?”

I was surprised at how much the words stung, softly spoken as they were. but ever since I met him, there was no moment of levity, not even when the spirits took themselves to safety.

Now, it wasn’t just them at risk if he couldn’t persuade the Cancelers to help us find the traitors. They’d simply cast the spirits into the Void and kill us, or strip Tyrel of his power if he violated any such code that forbade him to help me.

And if we find out they are only storing magic there and not destroying it, how will we counter such power then?

“Abdiel?”

We are here, and all is well. The long rest has strengthened you.

“And Tyrel?”

We can withstand him now, but we will see about the collective.

“And what of Zephyr?”

“I am here, Little Mother. The Canceler threw my body into the fire.”

“I’m sorry for that. I wanted to…”

“No need for sorrow. He only hastened that which would become of it much later.”

I couldn’t argue with the logic. “Can you get a new body?”

“I will rest for a time with Abdiel, then we ‘ll see.”

I turned my attention to Tyrel: “What happened at the palace?”

“They’re willing to meet with you.”

“Meet me?”

“There was no other way; I told them that I took your power and bound you here, and I needed to question you further about the rumors of a Traitors Guild because they were hiding people and creatures that could harm us.”

It took a moment to gather my senses, coming to grips that he’d been so openly stupid.

When I found my voice again, I asked. “Are they going to torture me?”

We won’t let them.

“They’ll cast all of you into the Void, Abdiel.”

Then we will harvest as many of them as we can to join us.

I shook off the bravado of his reply, though he’d made me curious.

“Tyrel…?”

“I don’t know, Tina. I don’t think they’ll let me question you alone, but I can’t say how far they’ll take it if you don’t answer me. They’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.”

“Is that why you told them what we planned?”

“I told them my part in it. Nothing more. They don’t know you’re not bound here, or tied up, or even dead. I can’t leave you here, since you asked me to join you, though you had the spirits to protect you.

“If I tell you they will know if you’re lying, don’t you think they’d know if I lie too?”

“You might have told me that, since our entire plan was based on deceiving them.”

He was pacing, taking off his hood and running his fingers through lengthening hair that was now at his shoulders. “That’s just it, that wasn’t a power they possessed before.”

He stopped pacing, and came back to stand in front of me. I felt Abdiel tug, but he didn’t shrink away.

“Something is about to happen, Tina,” Tyrel said. “There’s going to be a collision of power. The gathering of strength, spells, coin, spirits and blood all point to it.

“And we’re going to be in the middle of it all.”

The Passing: Reclamation (Chapter 27)

by smithaw50, posted in Uncategorized

In the cool evening breeze, the blood felt warm on my hand.

Tyrel had gathered enough firewood for me to build one if I needed to, and I was grateful to him now for doing it, as the night promised to be long and difficult. I’d forgotten how quickly the weather changes in the high places, but I’d have to wait now until the ritual was done.

I comforted Zephyr with my other hand, stroking his molting feathers as his bloated body gradually regained its shape as he rested on my lap. His beak stayed open, but his eyes were closed as his life faded.

My throat grew tight, but I had to steel myself for what was to come. “Thank you, Zephyr.”

He was beyond responding now, but the tension went out of him as he shifted his body to seek what warmth was left in me against his own gathering night.

**************

The cut in my palm began to tingle, and a deeper heat suffused my body as Abdiel began the transfer. There was a constant, subtle pressure against the cut as if another hand was pressed against mine.

Both sensations grew stronger.

“Abdiel?”

I’m here, Tina. They are eager to leave, but I can’t let them overwhelm you. There won’t be enough of the raven to bury.

I looked back at Zephyr. He was deflating, his eyes sunken, his beak working, though he wasn’t trying to speak.

“I don’t know that he cares about that, Abdiel.”

No, but you do.

I kept silent, somewhat surprised at his insight; though his own nature was dark and prone to harm others, he couldn’t override my own. Gran would not have passed her lore and power to me if he could. It was good to know she’d put something in place so there would be no possession of my character.

And he had the right of it; I would not leave Zephyr to the elements and scavengers.

“Thank you for that, Abdiel.”

Relax, Tina.

I shrugged the tension out of my shoulders and rolled my neck, took a couple of deep breaths, and braced myself as best I could under the circumstances.

The heat was pleasant, the tingling not so much, but the whole of it carried an undercurrent of power, and I realized now why Zephyr had swollen; they’d grown in power while they were inside him. In fact, it likely consumed him.

I was supposed to incubate them, but I hadn’t. His death would be a problem because there’d be no way to get in to the Cancelers Palace undetected. I was getting all of them back, but stronger. If I couldn’t control them, they’d go out into the world if the Cancelers didn’t stop them.

Tempted as I was to voice my concern to Abdiel, the others would hear, and I didn’t know if they’d submit to him after that; his authority depended on our working together, and if I expressed doubt in my ability, I’d put doubt in them about his.

I took the pain. If they started to rebel, I’d go in further toward the wards, but so far it was going well.

*****************

It took hours, and by the end of it I was too hot and sweaty to need a fire. and Zephyr’s cooling corpse was flat and stiffening as I saw his own spirit leave.

We are all here now, Tina.

“I know,” I told him, as I wiped the latest round of retching from my lips, shaking and sick.

I took Zephyr’s body off my lap. I’d bury him tomorrow.

I was also losing the fight against sleep as my body had gone way past its limits.

“Guard me, Abdiel.” I stretched out on the ground itself, my pack for a pillow, and sleep came like an invading army.

Always, little mother.

Little Mother? Zephyr had called me that…

The Passing: Reunions (Chapter 26)

by smithaw50, posted in BLOGGING 101, Uncategorized

An air of uncertainty, ever threatening to become mistrust and suspicion, still hung in the air as Tyrel, with the straps of his pack digging into his shoulders, cushioned by his coarse robe, turned to give me a last look before beginning his descent to the Cancelers Palace.

He seemed to be waiting for me to say or do something to make sure we were still connected.

“I’ll be here when you return, Tyrel.” That was all I could give him; the weakening of my powers in his presence, and Abdiel’s anxiety that came with it, made it hard for us to bond on a level that circumvented our abilities. Whether that would turn out for good or evil remained to be seen.

He took the offering, meager as it was, and gave me a small smile and single nod of his head. He was out of sight in the next moment, but I could hear the crunching of his boots on the path’s small stones. I didn’t really want him to go, preferring to just begin our attack, but I didn’t want to fight him. Indeed, I couldn’t.

And it would be easier if he could persuade them to let us carry out our attack on the Traitor’s Guild unhindered. I didn’t expect them to aid us in any way, but it would go faster if they weren’t attacking us either.

What happened to me now would be solely between me and Abdiel. Zephyr had done his part for now; he looked almost dead, as well as diseased. His black eyes were filmed over, and his beak stayed slightly open, his throat working, as if he was having trouble inhaling.

Sitting cross legged before the small fire, I picked him up and placed him in my lap, stroking the top of his head with my thumb. “Abdiel?”

We are here, Tina.

“Come out of him. Tyrel says it’s safe.”

You trust his word.

It wasn’t a question, and I bristled at it. “I do, and you’re killing Zephyr. His power and senses, his life, is fading.”

We know. The path he has taken is the path home.

“Neither of you told me about…this…being a possibility.”

We were not at risk.

I snapped at him. “That doesn’t–“

“No, Tina.” Zephyr interrupted. “He’s right. I did this for the love I bore Hannah. and I do it now for you.”

“Are you dying?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

He stirred in my lap and fixed his filmy eye on me. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, Zephyr.”

“These days come, little mother. Mine just came later than most of my kind.”

I remembered how shadowy and sad the day became when Gran’s time had come; once he released the spirits back to me, he’d be gone. I felt bad, but there was nothing to be done for it either way.

I had to try again: “Abdiel, come out of him.”

Cut your hand, Tina.

“This isn’t a blood spell.”

No, but we can enter through it as a funnel; it will ease the pain.

“Didn’t think it would hurt.”

Transfers always do,

“Did it hurt Gran?”

Yes.

She never let on that it did, but she was the kind of woman who wouldn’t.

Still balancing the barely breathing raven on my thigh, I unsheathed my knife and sliced into my palm.

The Passing: Certain Uncertainties (Chapter 25)

by smithaw50, posted in BLOGGING 101, Uncategorized

We mostly stayed silent for the remainder of the journey, because there was so much to say that it was too much. We’d talk ourselves out of it, or keep planning without moving much toward anything. There were too many outside factors we couldn’t control, so we’d have to trust our powers, and each other.

It was a lot to ask, but as Abdiel said, the moment would reveal the man, and though he’d meant it for Tyrel specifically, it applied to all of us, including him.

We never did purchase the horses. Not knowing who was in the Traitors Guild, or the extent of it, we would gather attention. Zephyr and myself alone would likely be the focus, but Tyrel in his Canceler’s robe would have been a dead giveaway something was amiss.

It was just as well. The trip ended in another two days.

When we topped the final rise, the Cancelers Palace was in full view.

As soon as I saw it, I remembered Gran and Atheron having a late night conversation about power and its affect on men. If the Cancelers’ powers were those of stealth and negation, their pride and confidence in their abilities was on full display in the opulence of their dwelling.

Four spired towers formed the corners of a concentric structure, with walkways serving as spokes in a wheel. Some were stone, and some glass enclosed. The center of the circle was the palace proper, sitting against its forested backdrop like a diamond. The stones were bright colored, reflecting the sunlight and heat.

Given the power contained within its walls, they apparently felt no need to conceal themselves.

Tyrel gave a quick explanation: the towers were the living quarters divided among those who stayed there, one for priests, another for priestesses, then the male and female novices. They were on opposite sides to discourage night visits, as the guards stayed within the palace proper at all times, having quarters of their own beneath the circle.

“Does it work?” I asked.

“Guards can be bribed. But few of the acolytes are lusty enough to risk it, and there are other areas out of sight, and full of shadows.”

“And you know where they are?”

He grinned, but didn’t answer, giving me my answer.

I changed the subject. “So where are the prisoners kept?”

He waited a couple of heartbeats, then said, “They’re not.”

I sighed. Of course not.

“So how do I get in?”

“As my disciple.”

“They won’t find out I have magic?”

“As long as Abdiel keeps the spirits contained, I can cover whatever residuals are still in you.”

I looked at Zephyr. His age, whatever it was, was not serving him well as it affected his ability to keep Abdiel and the others at bay without cost to himself.

He looked diseased, and I was reminded once more that Abdiel and the others were dark in nature at their core, bound to me only through Gran’s passing of her power to me, and nothing else.

He could barely move, much less talk, but he never complained or weakened his hold. I wasn’t sure how long he could last, or even if he would. I went to him as I spoke to Tyrel.

“I’ll have to take the spirits back for a day or two, and since you’ve been away for some time, you can go inside and see what goes on in there, then come back for us. Zephyr needs to heal.”

“He needs to find you a new familiar.”

I bristled at that, but it was more out of guilt since I’d also thought it along the way here; that he might not survive this, and the spirits would do what they do if I fell victim to the Cancelers.

“Given where we are, I don’t see that happening, and unless I can just show up and claim you as my mentor, we’ll wait here, and you can come back.”

His frown and silence made me angrier, but he’d been moody since the outset, and it was wiser overall to leave him to sort it out on his own.

I picked up Zephyr, saw the dried blood crusting his stinking feathers, and the cloudy eyes that were gleaming obsidian.

“Abdiel, come out of him.”

I’m not sure we can. The trees are warded here.

I really didn’t want to speak to Tyrel anymore, but this was out of necessity. “Tyrel, Abdiel says the trees are warded, but I need him to leave Zephyr and return to me. Now. Is it safe?”

“From this distance, we are beyond the wards; he should be safe.”

Very well. I’ll gather the others to me. It will be but a moment.

“Zephyr, will you be able to take another transfer?”

“We shall see.” He seemed to push the words through a swollen throat.

“That’s not an answer, you cryptic thing.”

“You will come to find, young witch, that answers only lead to more questions. Are you ready for what’s to come?”

We are ready, Tina.

I smiled at Zephyr, but it was trembly and not at all reassuring.

“We shall see.”

The Stuff of Nightmares

by smithaw50, posted in BLOGGING 101, Uncategorized

From the very beginning, we were there in the places where they slept, in cribs and cradles, in the small beds, and over time, the hospital units. And sometimes, when we were simply overpowered, too weak to stop the onslaught, they buried us, or abandoned us, or tore us apart.

For eons, we stared into to the glowing, malevolent orbs of the nether world. We saw the claws on long fingers slinking around the corners. We felt on the hairs of our fur the gradual change in temperature, smelled the odors, felt the gathering of dark power, and sometimes discerned the intent, whether warning or slaughter.

From those close to us, we bent inside the suffocating hugs of frightened arms, we endured the clutching nails, the bites that muffled screams and crying. We were soaked with their sweat, deafened by sudden night cries, and became vessels of their channeled restlessness. We took it all. Sometimes the parents would come, and sometimes they wouldn’t, and sometimes, more often than not, were the cause.

The ‘stuffing’ within us, containing countering magic, took all those things and absorbed it for a time, and for a time the monsters were silenced, driven out, and sometimes even killed.

But when they outgrew us, some replaced the monsters we slew with others of their own making, placed us on shelves, in trunks, in boxes in garages, to be forgotten. We were donated, ripped apart, or sealed up in their childish box tombs, buried and abandoned under clubhouse trees. They marked the feeble graves with crosses of popsicle sticks, if they marked them at all.

We were left to heal as their arrogance, pride, denial, and health were buffeted and defeated by the monsters of their own making, and we could no longer help.

The stuffing would yellow from the detritus of life, and grow brittle and knotty, and moths would feed as the fur corrupted.

We are in the landfills, the parks, the streets, the trains and buses, and the side of the road.

The things we shield and block fight to get out, but most we take with us. We expect no thanks, for there is no more belief in the world we battle.

But for as long as we are here, the stuff of nightmares will be spun into clouds of pleasant dreams, and innocence preserved for as long we can keep the darkness at bay.