The Fight
March 23rd 2011 19:34
I have been writing a lot, lately, but the project that I'm working on now is taking a lot more research than originally thought. So, I'll post something else up here to kind of fill in the gap, and hopefully the next one will the current story that I'm working on.
You're in a courtyard. Flowers of every genius and species surrounds you in their aromatic brilliance. Never before have you seen such a beautiful spectacle. Following the path, you twist and turn crossing between silver pools of water, perfect to the touch. I must be in paradise, you hear yourself say, echoing in the stillness of the courtyard.
Along the path, the rocks grind against one another, and at the end, you see a bench next to a pool of light. This bench must have been here for thousands of years, you hear yourself say, because nothing modern is beautiful... or at least as artistic as this one. Cherubim cling to the pillars of old, wrapping ivy around to adorn the blank pillars. The bench itself, made of ancient green metals, weathered and true, sturdy in its scroll, reaching out with both armrests. You feel as if you have traveled a lifetime to get here, and as you cross off the graveled path onto the soft, cool grass, you feel this new place welcoming you home at last.
Slipping your shoes off, the soft grass feels as silk to your tired feet. In the distance, you hear something, but you pay it no heed, for nothing bad will ever exist in this place. Then, you think about it. You think of all the bad that happened in order for you to get here. The thought, although you know that you are in a place of refuge, engulfs you, spurning you to think and think again. The glimmering sunshine that exists far above your still character glimmers with hope. Don't worry, it tells you. You are all done, it assures you.
But, are you truly all done?
Where are these thoughts coming from, you wonder, and you pick your feet up from the grass. You know that deep down, you do not deserve to be here, in this courtyard. You never belonged anywhere. What makes you think that you can be here now?
A small whiff of cloud crosses the sun, and you worry for the rain. The cloud grows, and grows, until the once warm and comforting sunshine is obliterated. Only grayness covers where you once felt the warmth. A storm is brewing.
The small noise that you paid no heed to earlier creeps closer. For all you know, it could be a deer, but now, you feel a panther, stocking you, feeling your fear. You struggle to push the fear back, hiding it in your gut, stopping it in your throat. The cloud cover darkens, and you feel the cold rain wash over your body as the wind picks up. You shiver into the bench that used to be so welcoming, but it holds no feeling. It stays there, cold, heartless, a thing to sit on.
Crouching deeper into yourself, you feel something within make you prouder. Not prouder, but more sure of yourself. You feel the thing, be it a deer or a jaguar, come closer. The battle for this courtyard will begin, one way or another.
"Not yet, little one," you hear a voice inside you. It's the courage that you've been feeling. "The fight is for later."
"No, the fight is now," a second, more menacing voice cries out. The creature jumps from the bushes, scattering one million flower petals at and around you. "Now, pick up your sword, being, and fight me," he screams at you.
You look around, and see nothing. Literally, nothing. The world around you, the world that you loved and know, is completely black. The fear that you shoved down inside of you struggles to come out, and it breaks free, at first a whisper, then a coughing hack, then a scream. You feel a part of the clouds break apart, but still you cannot see anything. You remember the bench that once housed you, and search for it. A great crash comes out of nowhere, smashing the beautiful bench in front of you.
"Now where are you going to go being? What are you going to..."
"ENOUGH!" a voice shouts from behind you. "You are not welcome here, and you know it. You are not allowed to fight the chosen, and you know that, too. So, evil, fight me instead."
"She had doubt in her heart. You felt it. I know you felt it, precious. That doubt will follow her all the days of her life, and I am to feed off of it. So, it is my right to fight her."
You don't understand what is happening, but you scream out in futility. Surely, your doubt didn't bring this thing here. You know it.
"You don't know it," the darkness tells you. "You don't know it, and you must fight it."
"But, she can't see. What kind of fair fight would it be if she were to fight you," the voice behind you tells the other one.
"A fight that I know that I'll be able to win," the evil laughs. "A fight that has had to happen for thousands of years, a fight that even you knew that you couldn't stop, once you brought her here."
A sigh behind you, and in your hand, you feel the cold steel of a handle.
"Good. Now, we fight," you hear, as you feel something hit you on the side of the head, knocking you sideways, half onto the grass, and half onto the gravel. An evil laugh, as evil a laugh as you've ever heard. You struggle to your feet, and hold the sword up, swinging at the air around you. "Do you really think that you can harm me that way, being? This is how you hurt somebody," and you feel the other side of your body hit the ground. Every part of your body hurts now. A great pressure on your hand makes you release the sword that you once held. "What's wrong? Can't hold your sword?"
Somewhere down in your head, you hear something. "Please, help me," you say out loud. The clouds break, and you feel the sunshine falling down on your broken body. You try to arise, but can't. A bigger voice calls from above.
"Despair, leave this place now!" It is full of authority, and all knowing. You feel the creature fall back into the darkness. "Why are you here?" the voice asks, as your broken body is lifted from the ground. "You are not supposed to be here, yet. You, take her away from this place, mend her, and take her back to where she's supposed to be."
And that's when you wake up.
Along the path, the rocks grind against one another, and at the end, you see a bench next to a pool of light. This bench must have been here for thousands of years, you hear yourself say, because nothing modern is beautiful... or at least as artistic as this one. Cherubim cling to the pillars of old, wrapping ivy around to adorn the blank pillars. The bench itself, made of ancient green metals, weathered and true, sturdy in its scroll, reaching out with both armrests. You feel as if you have traveled a lifetime to get here, and as you cross off the graveled path onto the soft, cool grass, you feel this new place welcoming you home at last.
Slipping your shoes off, the soft grass feels as silk to your tired feet. In the distance, you hear something, but you pay it no heed, for nothing bad will ever exist in this place. Then, you think about it. You think of all the bad that happened in order for you to get here. The thought, although you know that you are in a place of refuge, engulfs you, spurning you to think and think again. The glimmering sunshine that exists far above your still character glimmers with hope. Don't worry, it tells you. You are all done, it assures you.
But, are you truly all done?
Where are these thoughts coming from, you wonder, and you pick your feet up from the grass. You know that deep down, you do not deserve to be here, in this courtyard. You never belonged anywhere. What makes you think that you can be here now?
A small whiff of cloud crosses the sun, and you worry for the rain. The cloud grows, and grows, until the once warm and comforting sunshine is obliterated. Only grayness covers where you once felt the warmth. A storm is brewing.
The small noise that you paid no heed to earlier creeps closer. For all you know, it could be a deer, but now, you feel a panther, stocking you, feeling your fear. You struggle to push the fear back, hiding it in your gut, stopping it in your throat. The cloud cover darkens, and you feel the cold rain wash over your body as the wind picks up. You shiver into the bench that used to be so welcoming, but it holds no feeling. It stays there, cold, heartless, a thing to sit on.
Crouching deeper into yourself, you feel something within make you prouder. Not prouder, but more sure of yourself. You feel the thing, be it a deer or a jaguar, come closer. The battle for this courtyard will begin, one way or another.
"Not yet, little one," you hear a voice inside you. It's the courage that you've been feeling. "The fight is for later."
"No, the fight is now," a second, more menacing voice cries out. The creature jumps from the bushes, scattering one million flower petals at and around you. "Now, pick up your sword, being, and fight me," he screams at you.
You look around, and see nothing. Literally, nothing. The world around you, the world that you loved and know, is completely black. The fear that you shoved down inside of you struggles to come out, and it breaks free, at first a whisper, then a coughing hack, then a scream. You feel a part of the clouds break apart, but still you cannot see anything. You remember the bench that once housed you, and search for it. A great crash comes out of nowhere, smashing the beautiful bench in front of you.
"Now where are you going to go being? What are you going to..."
"ENOUGH!" a voice shouts from behind you. "You are not welcome here, and you know it. You are not allowed to fight the chosen, and you know that, too. So, evil, fight me instead."
"She had doubt in her heart. You felt it. I know you felt it, precious. That doubt will follow her all the days of her life, and I am to feed off of it. So, it is my right to fight her."
You don't understand what is happening, but you scream out in futility. Surely, your doubt didn't bring this thing here. You know it.
"You don't know it," the darkness tells you. "You don't know it, and you must fight it."
"But, she can't see. What kind of fair fight would it be if she were to fight you," the voice behind you tells the other one.
"A fight that I know that I'll be able to win," the evil laughs. "A fight that has had to happen for thousands of years, a fight that even you knew that you couldn't stop, once you brought her here."
A sigh behind you, and in your hand, you feel the cold steel of a handle.
"Good. Now, we fight," you hear, as you feel something hit you on the side of the head, knocking you sideways, half onto the grass, and half onto the gravel. An evil laugh, as evil a laugh as you've ever heard. You struggle to your feet, and hold the sword up, swinging at the air around you. "Do you really think that you can harm me that way, being? This is how you hurt somebody," and you feel the other side of your body hit the ground. Every part of your body hurts now. A great pressure on your hand makes you release the sword that you once held. "What's wrong? Can't hold your sword?"
Somewhere down in your head, you hear something. "Please, help me," you say out loud. The clouds break, and you feel the sunshine falling down on your broken body. You try to arise, but can't. A bigger voice calls from above.
"Despair, leave this place now!" It is full of authority, and all knowing. You feel the creature fall back into the darkness. "Why are you here?" the voice asks, as your broken body is lifted from the ground. "You are not supposed to be here, yet. You, take her away from this place, mend her, and take her back to where she's supposed to be."
And that's when you wake up.
| 28 |
| Vote |
Add To: 
subscribe to this blog