Zoeken

The Symphonies of Life and Fantasy: Allegro/Shadows Prologue 'The Rule of the Shadow'

The Rule of the Shadow   Long ago. In a world before yours. In a reality now long gone. There was the Age of The Dark. The Ancient Times were ruled by three overseeing powers. Entities born from nothing, but meaning everything. The Darkness was the first. It is the eldest form of intelligent life in all of existence. The Universe came second, bringing with it hope in the dark. The Darkness and The Universe fell in love and they created The First Light. Chaos, Neutrality and Goodness were their monikers. But, The Darkness grew bored quickly. It began to experiment with its powers, its reach. It took over the mind of a small creature, and caused the downfall of a small planet. Intoxicated with this new way to pass his time. The Darkness repeated his unforgivable act twelve more times. It was only after the thirteenth time that The Universe finally confronted her beloved. But The Darkness did not care for the words of the one he loved .. once. Now he was enamoured by power. Without anyone at hand to stop him, The Darkness swallowed all. Every planet. Every creature. Every living thing. By the end of his great hunger there was nothing left. Only he, his love and their child. Out of fear that her love would repeat his atrocious act over and over again; The Universe decided to turn against her love. She concocted a special potion, of sorts. That would force The Darkness into a deep and eternal slumber. Once The Darkness was put to rest, The Universe and The First Light joined hands and created Life and Death, though the latter would often refer to himself as ‘Fantasy’. And it was in their hands that they left responsibilities to create new life, new planets and their symphonies that you have come to learn. But, forever looming in an eternal slumber laid The Darkness. Plotting his revenge. And what a revenge it would be.  The Darkness had been a captive for several millennia when cut off a small piece of himself and managed to slip it out of his prison. The small patch of shadow, embedded with its master’s essence, turned into a small creature. Its task was simple. “Eara is your destination. Find me a Champion. Create for me an army!”. The small creature would find a young God, brother to another God, a hero even among the deities. A selfless man with no wish to rule. Eager to prove himself the better, the young God always challenged his perfect brother. But was always defeated. The shadowed creature approached the young God one fateful night. Convincing the young God with promises of greatness. And so it happened. The young God forged a pact with the creature. He defeated the perfect brother in battle and then crowned himself King of the Gods, and Father of the Gods. He declared himself ‘The first born God of Eara’. His strength had grown tenfold. The young God then created four sons. From rock, stone, thunder and lightning. To serve as his guardians. But then the young God did something the shadowed creature could not foresee. He grew arrogant and lazy. Conceited. Fat and drunk. No longer the warrior he once was, but still possessing over the immense powers the shadow had bestowed upon him. The shadowed creature decided to end their contract prematurely.  “Agreed”, King Dolomius agreed rather easily. “But on one condition”, he added. “I keep my strength, and if I do not, Solara shall be your final destination”. The King of the Gods signed a contract of his own making. He no longer had any use for this creature. His powers were his might. Without them, he would not be able to rule over the other God-kin. He wouldn’t be able to control them. The creature only contemplated the choice for a brief few seconds. Then signed the contract using its tail. The pact between the shadow creature and the young God had come to an end. Instantly the young God tested his might. It was all still there. Every power at his command. He chuckled and then cackled. While the small creature went on its way to find a new host. One he would be able to control better. One who wants war. Who wants to rule all, not just fill their bellies and wet their cocks. The search was short. Surprisingly short. The creature sensed a deep and dark rage. A caged monster begging to be released. Howling for carnage. The shadowed creature was instinctively drawn towards it and at the end of its run it found another young God. He was by himself.  

K.L. Runaya
0 0

aPUNKalypse chapter 1 'The Kids of Tomorrow'

The Kids of Tomorrow      We begin in 1989. 10 years ago the world “ended”. Society was no more. The streets cracked open, lava spit out. Nuclear bombs fell into the earth causing mass destruction. The leaders of the earth abandonned their people, causing mass panic. Rather than work together, some leaders thought they could make use of the situation to eliminate certain opposing countries. World War III broke out but didn’t last very long due to toxic gasses spreading in certain parts of the world. The closer to the gass, the more deadly it was. Causing instant death within a radius of 3 kilometers. Stories arose, at first, when humanity was still fighting, that the dead that were within those 3 kilometers had all come back to life. Zombies, Z’s short, now roamed the earth. Nuclear waste created mutated humans, over time they became known as Mumans, and animals, Manimals who then created mutated halfbreeds, Molestors . Of which most have gone insane and cannibalistic, only few can still speak. Humanity gave up shortly after. Communications fell out, adults who had survived left the group of orphans who then had to learn to fend and fight for themselves. Survival was key. Joey, Debby (already his gf), Michael (his best friend), Milo, Joe and Sid had all snuck out of the orphanage to go to a punk rock party in 1979 when it all happened. As soon as it started the group ran back to the orphanage to save the younger kids. Shortly after they were picked up by soldiers in busses. When the war began, 1 week later, the army left the orphans. They were met again with a group of hippies, learned from them for a year. The hippies left one day, hunting for food, but never came back. They then survived on the streets for 9 years thinking they were the last humans, the last non-mutated beings, on the planet earth. This is where our story begins.   High on top of the highest point of Breakneck Ridge, the outpost sat Joe, technically 4th in command of the Never Generation. - Or, at least, that is how they liked to refer themselves as. It was both a mocking and an ode to the orphanage they all grew up in called ‘Newer Generation’. - But acted more as 3rd in command because Michael liked to be alone. Joe was also the best fighter and could easily defeat Milo, Michael and Joey in one-on-one fights. And nearly as smart as The Twins. But Joe was a simple guy. He didn’t enjoy the attention, or responsibility. He liked to be free and loose. Act like a child when he felt like it and grab a snack when he needed one. A no-worry life in the apocalypse. But unfortunately Joey had other plans and saw Joe’s potential. So he was named Head-Scout. A job, Joe argued, was more suited to a loner like Michael. But Joey wouldn’t hear it. Tch , Joe clicked his tongue thinking about it.  It was a beautiful day, for the apocalypse. Or is it the New World now? He thought, the young slender man looked around with his dark blue eyes, filled with sadness and mystery. Peering into the distance, his hand over his head to shade away the sun. A top of Breakneck Ridge Joe had eyes in all directions and could see anything coming. But all he saw was more of the same. Trees, water and rocks. He rolled his eyes. “Time to head home, nothing to see.” He grabbed his backpack, pulled his hood over his head and started heading South, towards home. “Only a fifty minute walk.” He said, sarcastically cheerful.  You’re too honest for your own good. The thought just sprung in his head. A faint smile appeared around Joe’s lips thinking back to his first day as a scout. His first day as scout had probably been the worst of them all. By now he’s become used to it. But then, then he was afraid to be alone because of the nightmares that haunted him at night, and during the day. He didn’t want to bother his surrogate family with his troubles, Joe always thought, mostly out of shame. One of his lesser qualities. He always wants to carry everyone’s load of off their shoulders, but never asks, or accepts, help in return. He’d just smile and comfort them with an easy-to-believe lie. He hates that. Lying. Makes his stomach twist. A quality Joey greatly admires. But he would rather lie and say he could handle it, than put his story in the hands of his real family. Afraid to be outcast or scared off, to be mocked or treated differently. And so he stayed quiet about all his past misfortunes and focused on his job and newfound responsibility. Being the look-out and scout. The defense and the alarm. Together with Michael he had build the outpost that day. Michael had been silent the entire day, so work went by fast but the day seemed to last a lifetime. But then, when the sun was getting ready to set, the friendly ogre spoke, “You’re too honest for your own good. Do you know that?” He paused for a moment, Joe wondered if he was waiting for him to answer. But before he could think of a response, Michael continued. “And why do you act like you’re dumb and weak? What is it that troubles you? What did you live through before you reached the orphanage, Joe? You’re the only one who’s past is unknown. At some point the others will notice it as well, The Twins probably already have.” And as sudden as he had started, he stopped. “Well, fuck me. When it rains it pours with you, huh?” He laughed, “I’ve known you for 11 years, Michael, and I’ve never heard you speak as many words in those eleven years than I heard you speak just now.” His hands went to his head and he emulated the sound of an explosion, “mindblown”, he concluded.  “That doesn’t answer my question.” Michael reputed. Joe jumped on one foot, balanced himself and jumped back on both. “I’m well aware.” He said, smiling. His eyes sparkling with joy.  . 

K.L. Runaya
3 1

Jack Stargazer chapter 1 'Not Another Fantasy Story'

Not Another Fantasy Story   Jack “stargazer” Starlow was no ordinary eleven year old boy. In fact, he was everything but ordinary. With his messy, wavy, golden locks and blue eyes, he was already a strange sight to behold in a dark haired, brown eyed, family. He also was not the biggest of boys, both in length, and width. And then his oversized glasses. Clearly too big for his face, and a very dark khaki green. But he looked good in them, that’s what he thought. But no one seemed to agree with his sense of fashion. His jeans, all torn. His shirt, which always had every button unbuttoned, even the sleeves. With a logo t-shirt of one, or other, cartoon. Though he would always argue that it is ‘anime’, and not a ‘cartoon’.  Jack had a cheerful personality, but had a careful way of approaching other people. Always thinking his steps thoroughly through. Who to befriend, who to avoid. Which teachers to trust. Which road to take home. What to eat. Everything mattered, because everything you do has an influence on your day. That is what Jack truly believed. But Jack discovered, at a very young age, that not everyone thought the same way. Not everyone holds friendship and trust and loyalty in such high regards. He quickly learned that, unfortunately and disappointingly, people only felt these emotions when they were scripted for them. Jack had matured so early, on an intellectual level, that he was misunderstood by all. And had spent the following seven years under brutal bullying at home. By his two brothers; Pryede and Worath. His two sisters; Luyst and Glytoni. Even his parents; Greade and Envay. His classmates, in fact, the entire town did not seem to like the boy that much. They hated him because he was part of the Stain family, and his family hated him because he is not like them.  “Soloth! Soloth!” Envay was pacing up and down the lobby; “Soloth!” She moaned in aggravation, “where is that useless brat!?” “I saw him playing with one of his stupid pests again.” Pryede said, boastingly.  “Get him.” Envay snapped, “get you brother!” “That little pest is no brother of mine.” Pryede said under his breath as he stormed up the stairs, two steps was all it took him. “I’m gonna get, you little shit!” He shouted; as he pulled down the attic trap door ladder. “Shh, shh, be quiet. He can’t see you, he’ll take you away and hurt you. I can’t stop him, he’s too strong. You need to stay hidden.” Jack was sitting in the far east corner of the attic, talking to several little critters. A mouse, a squirrel, an owl and a kitten. “No, no. Just hide, please.” “Who’re you talkin’ too, squirt?”  Oh no, he’s already here. “N..nothing.”  “Whatcha hidin there? Is it one of your stupid pests? You want me to kill them, like I did with the others? You wanna eat them again? You liked it? Is that it!? Move!” He pushed his brother away, who fell, face first, on the floor. His nose bleeding, his eyes struck with fear. No, please, no. “Let’s see what we got here.” The oldest brother put his hand through the crevice in the wall where Jack had been standing, trying to hide it, trying to give his friends more time to escape. Because that’s what they are, friends. Not pests. Not pets. They’re my friends. They’re the only ones that understand me! But his voice fell flat. Fear stopped his mouth from moving. He felt powerless, useless. Responsible for whatever horrors his brother had in store for his dear friends. “p..pl..” But the words wouldn’t come out, no matter how he tried. No matter how hard he forced himself to speak. They fell silent as he forced his mouth open. No, please, no. Speak! Speak! Please.. Tears filled his eyes, and at the sight of this his brother grinned, shoving his arm deeper into the crevice. Grinning, always grinning, but then his grin trade places with confusion. He can’t find them, they’re gone! Jack couldn’t help but let a smile escape his lips.  “Something funny, squirt!?” Pryede, who had already moved from the crevice to Jack’s side, stood glaring at his brother. “I asked you a question!” He shouted, “so, you’re not answering, are you?” He continued, not leaving his youngest brother room to answer. “Then it’s time to feel some pain, little bro.” He laughed, grabbed Jack by his shirt, pulling it so hard the eleven year old boy had to gasp for air. “You’re coming with me.” “Pryede, have you found Soloth?” Their mother shouted from below, in a voice that would make even the bravest of men tremble in fear. “Pryede!?” “You’re lucky, little shit.” The oldest of the Stain boys said, “for now.” And he pushed his little brother down the stairs as he shouted; “Found him!” Jack came tumbling down, hitting his head three times. Thinking one day, you just wait, one day, all the way down.  “Soloth! I told you to be here eight minutes ago!” She raised her hand. Jack, still looking down, “it’s only eight minu..” And his mothers’ hand hit him against his right cheek with such force his head hit the ground again. “You ungrateful little shit!” She shouted ecstatically.  What should I be grateful for? He thought, giving a quick dead eye look at his mother, then his brother and sisters, laughing at him behind his mother, and then his oldest brother, still standing atop the stairs. Another hand hit his face, this time the left cheek.  “You DARE glare at your MOTHER!?” Envay was now in complete fury, “You little SHIT! I Despise the day I ever got you!” “Whoa whoa, what’s going on here?” Greade, Jack’s father, had left the basement. “What’s with all the shouti..” He saw Jack lying on the floor, with blood all over his face now. “You.” The hulking man snapped. “It’s always you.” He made a fist. “Why is it always you?” He hit Jack in the nose, even more blood gushed out. “Why is it that you don’t learn?” He picked the boy up and put him back on his feet. “Why is it that you aren’t like us?” He stomps him in the stomach, Jack gasps for air. His brothers and sister all joined together now, laughing in their wicked way. His mother looked down in disappointment. “Why can’t you be more like us?” He pulls out a handkerchief and starts wiping his hands clean. “We raised you. Where is the gratitude for that? Your brothers and sisters learned so much faster than you. But, then again, they are pure blood. And you..” He glared at his wife for a second, who hung her head in shame and started to apologize. “You’re just some ungrateful little shit we had to save because my wife believes in old wives’ tales.” He turned around and left the room, back to his basement; Envay following him, still apologizing.  “You heard that, guys?” Luyst said, in her wicked way. “Dad finally admitted it. He’s not even our brother.” “Hey! You’re right, he did! OH MY GOD! I am SO mind blown, right now.” Glytoni giggled, Jack had always favored Glytoni over his other siblings. They were the youngest and had the best connection with each other, until they hadn’t anymore and Glytoni “grew up”. And she joined her older siblings in tormenting Jack.  “So, Soloth.” Pryede started, as he raised his hands “ready for some fun?” Oh no. Jack thought. “Let’s GO!” Pryede shouted, mockingly in the voice of Peter Pan; one of Jack’s favorite stories. “Get the little twerp.” Worath gave out a battle cry, “I’m gonna hurt you real bad, this time, Soloth.” Luyst threw a bottle, missing Jacks’ face by inches. “I’m not gonna miss next time, Soloth.” Glytoni giggled and came rushing in, “hahahahahaa, Soloth!”  My name is Jack Starlow! I am NOT part of this family and I leave you today. Is what he wanted to say, but instead, he stood up and ran up the stairs. The attic trap door was still open, he sped up the attic stairs, closed the trap door and locked it. Quickly grabbed some supplies; food that he always kept in his room, because they would often not leave anything for him. Thread and needle, because you never know when you might need a thread and needle, he thought. Money; that he had saved up by doing odd jobs when he sneaked out at night. His bus pass; complementary to his school. And his friends, who had already snuck into his backpack, nice time saver, he chuckled. “Time to leave.” He started to sweat, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He started to doubt, “No! I can’t doubt it. I can’t stay here. They’ll kill me for sure. I should’ve left when I found out the truth about this family.”  “Soloth!” The attic door began to shake, “Soloth!” “Time to go.” He grabbed his backpack, checked if all four of his friends were present, eight eyes stared back at him. “Awesome.” He muffled under his breath while pushing open the roof window, but not before shouting “My name is Jack Starlow!”. And he hurried out of the window frame, afraid they’d burst through the door any minute. The climb down was easy, he had done it a thousand times before as he sneaked out to work odd jobs. He knew every step to take before he took it. But this time was different. Jack was injured and in a hurry. His foot reached out too far, he slipped and fell down. Luckily, he was already half-way down the prickly thorns, and didn’t need to climb further down those dreadful thorns. “Lucky”. He sang to himself, laying on the ground, covered in dirt, thorns and blood. “So lucky.” He groaned, as he tried to get back to his feet. In need of a quick get-a-away he started looking around. “Can’t use mom and dad’s cars, or the twins’ dirtbikes.” He sighed. Looked up and began hearing sounds coming from the attic. “Guess I’ll just run.” And run, he did. Before you knew it, he was out of sight. Knowing the alleys and streets of this town like the back of his hand; because his family were not the only ones he had to run from. He left the abandoned Starlow Street, where he had lived all his life, and has never once seen another person vacate any of the other houses. It was a dark and cold street, but he enjoyed it’s loneliness. He felt at home in this street. Unfortunately, he had to share it with his adoptive family. After Starlow Street came Bunkle Bridge, notorious in folklore for it’s trolls, or so they say. Many say that Starlow Street is abandoned because of the Legend of Bunkle Bridge. But Jack knew that the Stain family had a part in it, definitely, he thought. Beyond Bunkle Bridge was The Forest of Aliscius, and beyond that the town of Aliscora, both named after a fabled warrior of old, Aliscius the Bright. A former soldier who rallied the rest of  The Light’s side’s final battalion of, originally, five hundred thousand strong, now reduced to merely thirty warriors. To face off against the might of The Dark. Forces of evil, orcs, goblins, trolls and so much more. And somehow, they won. Because Aliscius had found the legendary Sword of Eternal Light.  Jack always thought the story was a sappy one, I would’ve written a better one, he always thought to himself every time the story was read to him at school. He suddenly remembered something from kindergarten; at the age of three, he had asked his teacher: “People based a religion on THIS!?” And was immediately transferred to the “troublemaker class”, which no one was surprised off. “He’s a Stain, after all.” The teachers and parents would agree amongst each other.  “Old news.” He told himself out loud. Cheer up. He thought, smiled and continued into The Forest of Aliscius. A special forest. Depending on where you would enter, you’d get an entirely different experience walking through these woods. If you entered from Bunkle Bridge, you would get a dark and scary path, creepy noises left, right and center. But if you entered from Widow’s Lake, you’d get a very rainy walk. Another entrypoint is Flowerbed Avenue, making it so your walk is warm and sunny, even if it’s snowing outside of the forest. And the final entry point, Jack’s personal favorite, Icarus Street. Where you’d always get a starry sky. He would often cross the forest, through the dark and scary path of Dunkle Bridge, to then return through Icarus Street. He would often spend the night in a tree, staring at the night sky. The thousands of bright lights, so very far away. It had always intrigued him. The bullies from school had given him the nickname “Stargazer”, most likely hoping to hurt Jack emotionally. But failing as Jack’s response was a solid; “OH! That’s so good, can I use that?” Leaving the bullies behind, completely dumbfounded.  Unfortunately, Jack couldn’t go to Icarus Street. It’d be the first place they’d look for me. He thought. And the next place they’d look for me is the last place they think I would be. Which is here. So I can’t stay here either. He tried to look up, see the sky through the trees, but to no avail. Only darkness, only scary noises and shadowy figures creeping by. As usual. He thought. “Widow’s Lake!” He suddenly shouted, scaring his friends in his backpack. “Oh, I’m sorry, guys.” He apologized, eyes filled with genuine shame. “Let’s get a move on. Widow’s Lake is at least an hour a half on foot in this darkness. And we better do it in an hour, better yet to do it in less.” He said, while picking up the pace. “It might get a bit bumpy in there guys.” And he started running. Jumping over trees in the dark, he surprised himself at how well he knew these woods. It felt like home. Just as Starlow Street. He evaded a branch on his left side, another on his right. Jumped over a fallen tree and avoided a few pitfalls hunters had made. The Stain family enjoyed hunting in the dark part of the forest. Jack took a quick look behind him, stopped moving. Slowed his breathing and tried to listen if he could hear his deranged siblings running towards him. Because if there was one thing he could count on, it is that his brothers and sisters aren’t able to hunt in silence. His parents, on the other hand, were silent and deadly.  He could feel a little tug on his shirt, Dilligaince the owl had crawled out of the boys’ backpack. “I get it, I get it. We’re going.” But the owl suddenly jumped up and took off. “Wait, where’re you going? Dilly? Dilligaince!?” He sighed in annoyance, “fine, you know your way back to me.” And the boy took off, in the opposite direction of Dilligaince. Running, faster than before. Somehow he knew something bad was about to happen. He ran and he ran. Evading trees and branches left and right. When suddenly he tripped over something. Felt like a leg, he thought, not gonna check. He concluded and dusted himself off. Ready to continue. When suddenly he heard the sound of a twig snapping, at least two hundred meters aways from him. Immediately he knew he had to run, only four hundred meters left until he would reach Widow’s Lake, a very crowded place where “his kind”, being a Stain, was not welcome. His parents would never cross the over, he thought. And so he ran, like never before. Sprinting until he felt a metal taste on his tongue and throat. His spleen started hurting, but he couldn’t give up, he ran even faster and faster. Another twig snapped, this time right to his left, only a hundred meters left, the boy thought, but stopped. They’re just playing with me. He thought, getting angry. “You think I’m some kind of toy for you to play with!? HUH!?” The eleven year old boy shouted to the darkness of The Forest of Alicius. “That’s exactly what you are now, useless brat.” The voice of his foster father reached the boy before his father did. Giving Jack just enough time to avoid an attack that would have cut him in half. “Seems you learned something after all.” Greade said, somewhat proud, but in a mocking way.  “Are you NUTS!? You could have killed me!” Jack shouted with fear coursing through his words.  “That’s the point, dear little snack.” Now his mother’s voice, Jack took a step backwards. Sharp claws barely missing him. “Oh.” She said amusingly.  Jack took a quick glimpse at the road, fifty meters, he thought. Great, I got closer. But now what!? “Awh, look at that Envay, he’s trying to think his way out.” Greade spitted on the floor, “forever the disappointment. Stains fight with the claws they’re given! Not hide behind...”, he spat again, “...words”. “Do you think he’ll taste bad because we’re gonna eat him early?” Envay asked her husband. “We’re not gonna eat him early…” Greade said with a smile, “we’ll keep him and torture him untill he begs us to eat him.”  His foster parents had been standing in the shadows this whole time. Hiding their true forms. But Jack knew. He had seen them, all of them, killing people. Eating their souls. Stealing their skin and identities. He felt disgusted the day he found out they really are the monsters the whole town claims them to be, in fact, they are worse. Much worse, he thought. I gotta make a run for it. The boy thought, looking for an opening to move closer to the exit.  “Are you trying to move closer to Widow’s Lake?” His foster father started laughing out loudly, “you foolish boy, do you think the great Stain family fears a few peasants? Mortals? No.There’s no escape for you, little “Jake.” And he cackled again, he sounds like an anime villain, Jack thought. “Why?” Was all the boy could say.  “Just take a look, boy...” Greade said, picking up Jack and throwing him out of the woods and unto the grass of Widow’s Lake, “...you’ll see for yourself.” He growled as he left the woods and slowly entered the, by street lantern, lit Widow’s Lake. He could see his foster father’s right foot enter light, it looked odd. Huge and grotesque, like the foot of some kind of scaley animal. But just as the young boy tried to get a good look, someone grabbed him by the shoulders; with what felt like enormous hands; and the boy was pulled up in the air and thrown into the arms of someone else. Who immediately knocked the boy out.  “We’re taking the boy.” A gorilla-shaped man said to Greade. “Kayndness!” Greade growled and lashed out from the darkness, using his tail as a whip. “I’ll get you for this! The boy is mine!” Sharp claws missed Kay’s right eye by millimeters. The gorilla-man, faster than he appears to be, had grabbed both tail and arm. “Time to go back to the darkness.” Kayndness replied, “say hello to the fam!” And he threw the demon back into the woods. “Chaziddy!” “Captain?” A parrot-looking man yelled, holding the unconscious Jack in his feathery arms.  “We’re leaving.” “Yes, Captain!” A small flying ship descended from the clouds, “Why has the cloaking device been turned off? What the hell is that new guy doing this time?” A rope came down, “Give me the boy, Chaz. Fly up, see what the old man’s doing.” “Aye, Captain.” The parrot-man replied to his Captain, as he handed Jack over to Kayndness; clapped his wings and flew up. Having reached the ship in the blink of an eye. “Nano, the Captain wants to know why you turned off the cloaking device.”  “Oh, hey Chaziddy! Whazzup?” A, relatively, old looking turtle-helmsman greeted his Vice-Captain. “Oh my Antromea! Have you been touching that human tobacco, again?” “It’s not tobacco, man. It’s weed. It’s good for you, you should give it a try. Might calm you down for a second.” “Sweet Liftrea, you’re an old man, Shell. What are you doing?.”  “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m quite young for a turtle!” The old turtle replied, quite proud of himself. “Hey!” He yelled out, when Chaziddy took the veteran’s pipe. “Give me back my pipe!”  “SHELL!” Kayndness had already reached the ship, “what the hell are you doing? What will you do if the humans see us again? We are in the middle of a town, NOT a farm like last time. The humans may outcast one local, but they will not outcast an entire town. Turn on the cloaking device! NOW!” The gorilla-man bellowed. “Y-yes, Sir! Sorry, Sir!” And the old turtle turned the cloaking device back on. “Now, take us away, Mr Shell.” “Where’re we going, sir?” “We’re going home.” “Sir! Yes, Sir!” “Are you sure, Kay?” Chaziddy asked his Captain, “It’s been a long time since we’ve been home. We’ve been looking for the boy so very long, it almost seems like a lifetime.” “I am sure, Chazz.” The Captain replied, with confidence, he paused a moment, “the boy needs to be safe.” “I know, but, are we not safer in the sky than on land?” “You always were the wisest of Vice Captains, were you not?” Kayndness said, laughing. “We will not return to stay, we must pick up supplies. And we need that scroll.” He said, staring in the distance. “The scroll? But, Kay, we couldn’t even make it the last time. How would we be able to do it this time?” “Well..” The gorilla-man started, “we’ve got the boy.” “The boy?” Chaziddy asked with certain sarcasm, “the boy is a boy. What can he do? He may be the child of prophecy, but clearly he has yet to awaken his true potential.” “Well..” The Captain began anew, “we’ve also got these guys.” And he opened Jack’s backpack. The heads of Abby the squirrel, Libra the kitten and Hummy the mouse popped out of the backpack. “Pets?” Chaz said, mockingly. “An eleven year-old boy and his three pets? That’s our salvation? They are to stand against evil? Dear God, Kay..” The Vice-Captain said to his Captain. “Have some faith in your Captain.” His captain replied. “Have I ever led you astray?” “Well, there was that one time in Calusmepia.” Chazz said, still thinking of other examples. “So, one ti…” “And that time in the Gomornea Tunnels, or that time in the Mines of Dyceasd.” “Fine, fine. I get it. Then what do you suggest our next action will be, Mr Vice-Captain?” The gorilla-man sneered. “I...I don’t know.” The Vice-Captain said, “as you said, we need the scroll. So we must return home. But…” The Parrot-man reverted to a regular man, with a multicolored mohawk. Dressed in green leather and small, round, sunglasses. “Our home...it’s been…” the words would no longer leave his lips, the wound was still fresh. They had lost their home to evil. Their leader, Zeulzus the Hammer, had betrayed them. Shell had discovered that Zeulzus, who now calls himself Zelzus Deathhammer, was secretly working for the demons all this time. It IS the main reason Shell was accepted aboard The Arc, as it’s helmsman. His unconventional ways were also the reason they managed to escape a massacre. Now they were the only ones left, the last stand. A Captain, his Vice-Captain, their helmsman, a boy and his three pets. “I know, my friend. Our situation is dire. I know.” Kayndness said, in a voice that would break your heart. The pain of losing his family, seeing them killed before his eyes by the man that had raised him, taught him everything he knew. Whom he respected with all his heart. The wound, the pain, it was still too fresh. He preferred not to think of it. He preferred to let his fists do the thinking for him. And he preferred to do that thinking, up close and personal, with Zelsus. “But we must, we have no choice. For the sake of the world. For the sake of our legacy, of our existence. We must face him.” Kay reverted to his human form, which still looked like a gorilla in a t-shirt. “But you’re right, we need more people. And the boy must awaken his latent abilities.” “What about the Widower Witch? Maybe she has the answers we seek? Or a path for us to take?” Shell had been absent for the entire conversation that the other two had nearly forgotten about him. “What?” He said when he saw his Captain and Vice-Captain stare at him. “Something I said?” He chuckled. “Everything you said!” Kay shouted out, running up to his helmsman, holding him in the air and then hugging him tight, the way only Kayndness could do.   “Good thing I’ve got my shell on...” The old turtle said with a sheepish smile, “...or you would’ve crushed me.” He laughed out loud.  “You’re a genius!” Kay kissed his helmsman, “A friggin’ genius!” He laughed and laughed. “Set course for the Widower Witch, Mr Shell.” “Aye aye, Cap’n.” The Turtled man said playfully, “West, west. To the west we go. West, west, to the west we sail. West, west, the Widower’s Witch. West, west, she knows best.” He sang out loud, taking out a second pipe and lighting it. “West, west …” He continued to sing but stopped abruptly. “Captain, incoming!” The turtle man shouted. “What is it?” The Captain shouted back from his cabin door. “Something appears to be flying our way, Captain.” And something did, far in the distance. Something came flying directly towards them. “How is that possible?” He looked at his helmsman, “have you turned the cloaking device off again?” “It’s on, Captain.” The faithful helmsman replied. “Then what in the …” He stopped, as the figure was about to land on the bow of the ship. “Prepare for battle, boys!” The captain shouted, changing to his beast form. “Aye, Captain!” Chaz and Shell said in duet, following their Captain’s example.  “Goddamn Light Chasers!” Greade growled. “Goddamn monkey! I’ll get him for this! I’ll kill him!!” He started smashing trees and throwing rocks. Envay just stared at him, forever intrigued by Greade’s rage. It is why she had chosen him as her mate. A succubus needs a hefty meal, she thought, grinning.  Laughter could be heard east of them, “We need to train our little demons better. They’re horrible hunters.” Envay giggled.  “Speak for the others.” Pryede, the oldest, said. “You never heard me coming, did you, mother?” He gave a little cackle. “Oh dearie, have I not told you to be aware of your surroundings?” She said, while tapping three knives against two of his legs and an arm. “You would’ve lost all your limbs.” She giggled. “Did you really think you’re better than me?” The boy bowed down. “Go back to your brother and sisters. Take them home. We’ll discuss your failure later..”  Pryede, angry and insulted, stood up and turned around.  “...and your punishment.” His mother slipped under her breath, as he left, just loud enough for him to hear. The oldest of their children disappeared from sight. Shortly after, the laughter of his siblings ended. Just as abruptly as she caused his pride to fall, mere seconds earlier. “Is that how you keep your Blood in line?” A tall thin woman had appeared from the shadows. So tall she could be a tree, but so thin the tree would have to be a branch. Her skin as white as the white from her eyes, with two blue vicious eyes swimming in the white, like sharks, looking for their next victim to prey upon.  “Anoërksia, what are you doing here?” Envay sneered, “is your sister here as well?” She looked around nervously. Envay had never liked the youngest of the Linquish sisters. Because her beauty was beyond comparison. “No.” Anoërksia began, with a voice that seemed to vibrate a little, “Ortheksia isn’t here, Envay. No need to be envious.” She let out a cackle that seemed to send vibrations into the air. “This isn’t Nighthood business.” She purred a little, “I just wanted to watch you fail.” “Why you…” Envay began, her emotionless face now red with fury. “CALM YOURSELVES!” Greade bellowed, immediately both demons fell silent. “Why are you here, Anoërksia?” Greade said, snapping his teeth right before her eyes.  “My Lady Destitia has sent me.” The tall thin demon said, her voice still vibrating, but this time because of fear. The fear of having her head ripped right off of her shoulders, she had seen him do it before, for far less. “Destitia?” He said, the name left a vile taste in his mouth, “what’s she want?”  “My Lady wants you to come to the mansion. She has news from The Widower Witch. Turns out the child you were raising for lunch is actually a very prominent figure in the prophecy.” “That little runt?” Greade growled, “And that stupid monkey has got his hands on him. This isn’t good.” He looked at his wife, “We’re leaving.”

K.L. Runaya
3 1

Kiya Lee & The P.D. chapter 1 'It's a Crazy World' (a story using Public Domain characters)

It’s a Crazy World     Have you ever had a strange day happen to you? I mean, like, really, really strange? Well, let me tell you about one of the strangest days of my life. It was the day I met the P.D.; and no, that doesn’t stand for what you think it does.  You see, I was just minding my own business, reading some comic books on my bed. When, completely out of nowhere a portal just opened up in my bedroom. That’s right, IN my bedroom. I didn’t even have pants on. So I jumped up, pulled my pyjama trousers on and grabbed my inflatable bat, because it’s the only weapon the group mother would allow me to have. I stood there, ready for anything. Aliens, monsters, time travelers. But I wasn’t prepared for … Peter Pan? It reminded me of the day I first arrived at the group home. I was like a gritty darker version of myself, I call him ‘Dark Knight Kiya’.  ‘I've stared death in the face so often that I've lost count. And I've yet to experience why. Why did I survive? Why me? If nothing in life works for me and no one wants to be near me, why me? Why not someone happier? Someone more loved? Someone more successful? Why me? What can I do, but fail? I’ve asked myself these questions so often that I’ve lost count of where the questions start and I begin. Seems to be a recurring thing, losing count. I’ve lost count of the betrayals by friends, the continuous streak of bad luck, the unreceived love from those of whom you’d expect would love you, like my parents and siblings before the accident. No one told me that life would be easy, nor did I expect it to be. But another thing nobody told me anything about was how cruel it would be. How cruel humans would be. How cruel adults would be’.  God, I was so dark back in my younger days. So dramatic. It’s a good thing I got over that. Now I’m happier. Because I made a vow with myself, to never grow up. To never become an adult, like all the others. To stay me, to remain free spirited, and that’s why I couldn’t stop laughing when Peter Pan exited the portal that had opened up in my bedroom. Was it destiny? Or is it just God mocking me? Peter looked at me in a funny way, as if his face meant to say; ‘What are yóú doing here?’.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”, I asked him. “You know this is mý room, right?”. He didn’t answer, just stared at me. “Do you talk?”, I ask him rudely, I quickly apologised for my town and that’s when he spoke for the first time.  “I knew I took the right portal”, he mumbled, mostly to himself. “Then you have to be the one”, he stared at me intensely. For a second I was afraid he’d start kissing me, but luckily his mouth decided to speak words instead. “You must come with me, to my world”, he said, reaching out his hand to me.  As I stood there like a dumbfounded buffoon, I caught myself thinking; ‘Well, that’s not that much better than kissing, is it?’.     

K.L. Runaya
3 1

The Rise and Fall of Mason Mantle chapter 1 'Reunion' (a Wizarding World fanfic, unfinished)

Reunion     It is the year 2065 and it had been twelve long years since last these unlikely friends had seen one another. And if it were up to Mason, they would never have met again. He had not missed a single one of them. Not even Emeraldine Gloven, who’m he loved more than anything, even now, even still. But, alas, the five unlikely friends, who should have never have been friends, came to just an unlikely end. It all happened during their last year attending Hogwarts. Everything they knew of each other would change. A silence would fall flat over their friendship and not bring them together until twelve years later, when yet another tragedy unfolds.  “So.” Mason felt obliged to start the conversation, as no one else seemed to be willing to carry the burden. “Can we just …” “You dare speak first, Mantlle!?” Chase Mantle sneered, a pale dark haired man with very dark eyes, the epitome of Slytherin, Mason always thought. “Haven’t you done enough already?” The Slytherin alumni asked.  “Done enough!? It’s been twelve fucking years, Chase. We’ve all moved on, why can’t you?” “No, Mason.” Emeraldine intervened. “No, we haven’t. How could we? Have you? My God, Mason. What’s happened to you?”  “I… I didn’t… Whatever.” Mason stuttered.  “Can we just get on with it, so we can leave, yeah?” Little Marcy Mirwittle said, with a voice that sounded just as squeaky as when she was still a thirteen year old.  “How about we show some respect to the dead?” Silent Gorin Halfbane said. “Or have you all forgotten that everyone has been dropping dead left, right and center? We could be next. That’s why we’re here, after twelve fucking years. So get your shit together, all of you. Because I for one refuse to go under without a fight.” “We don’t even know who we’re fighting, Gorin.” Emeraldine said. “It could be anyone.” “No, not anyone.” Chase nearly whispered, “It has to be someone who knew of Potter’s Army. It has to be someone who knew it’s members.” “Chase is right.” Mason said, “There’s a traitor in Potter’s Army and we need to find out who it is.”

K.L. Runaya
3 1

The Coldheart Files chapter 1 'A Cold Start'

A Cold Start     In a small country there was a small village, in that village there stood a small house, and in that small house there lived a big family with many problems. The father, Karn, was a convicted criminal on the run from the law, but foolishly hiding in his own home. The mother, Jessie, was a duality, a loving and nurturing mother one day, a stone-cold heartless drunk the next. The oldest son, Stefan, was following in his father’s footsteps. The three oldest girls, Sonet and Clarity, were two foul-mouthed, fist-talking, women you did not want to cross. The middle one, Naieve, the third girl, was as intelligent as she was sinister. The twin boys, Kit and Kat, cleverly nicknamed KitKat, were two dark souls with an appetite for torture. The youngest boy, Kyai, was the odd duck in the family. A happy and joyful boy with an aptitude for reading, and a strong sense of justice, and the youngest of the family was the fourth girl, Kresti, a girl who always copied her big brother Kyai. This family of ten, the Coldhearts, would become the center of their little village, Zelz, and later, the entire world.  In the small town of Zelz, on the ‘MayorVonAuker’-street, District B number 89; Kyai, at only two-and-a-half years old, was preparing for his first day of school. The young boy was a prodigy, but unfortunately for the boy, his family did not care for that, and the town did not care for the boy’s family. Which meant they did not care for the boy. On his first day, the boy was bullied for his name and his long curly white hair. When Kyai came home crying, his mother immediately, and roughly, cut off all of the boy’s hair. On his second day the boy was bullied for his new hairdo. This would spark a common practice in the boy’s life. He would, unwillingly and unknowingly, paint a target on his own back through his own strange behaviour. Because not only was he Kyai Coldheart, son of Karn Coldheart, a well-known criminal; he was also a strange boy on top of it all. Always with his nose in a book, or drawing imaginary things, speaking out-of-turn and being a “little know-it-all”, people would call him. “You’re too smart for your own good”, they would shout at him, angrily. The boy never understood this. Everyone seemed to say it as a warning, or even an insult. But the boy saw no downsides to being intelligent. “How can you be “too smart” for your own good?”, he’d ask them. “You’ll get it when you’re older”, some would reply. Others would simply call him “a nosy little shit”, and scare him off. By Christmas-time, in his first year of school, Kyai was already fed-up with the lacking educational system, as well as the lack of humanity in the people he would come across. Having become the only person of interest for both bullies and faculty alike, the boy became more and more withdrawn. By the end of Kyai’s first year of school, the extroverted happy boy had become an introverted shadow of his former self, but that would only be the start of the young boy’s misery.  

K.L. Runaya
4 1

Superfluous Happy Life Chapter 1 'I, Elamar' (unfinished)

    I, Elamar     To whomever it may concern; I; Elamar Mortrinaet, Prince of A’nderi’k, hereby detail the events of the fall of Tri-Earth, and the Kingdom of A’nderi’k, through my own experiences. It all happened so fast. We were all surprised. The people, the noblemen, the knights, everyone. I mean .. we all saw it coming. It just surprised us all by how fast things deteriorated, and then escalated from there on. It all began with a shadow and a politician. A charming one, he was. He said all the right things to all the right people. He knew exactly which buttons to press, where to press them, and when to press them for maximum effect. He was a genius disguised as a talk-happy buffoon. A well-dressed, oddly shaped, square-headed politician, and in his shadow; as always; the man who funded the insanity. Equally eccentric, if not more. The wealthiest man in the land, and sporting an even more disturbing appearance. They lied, cheated and bribed their way to the top of the social hierarchy, for all to see. And, somehow; their tactics worked. Somehow, though many still question how, they appealed to the masses. Horrified, all the people of the land watched as our people voted these two oddly shaped manipulators to take hold of the strongest, and once the most honourable, Kingdom in the land of Tri-Earth; A’nderi’k. I remember it still, the time before. How peaceful it was. The forests and fields were all lush and green, with vibrant colors everywhere. Hills adorned with flowers on all sides of the castle town of A’nderi’k. I was found at the gates of the town when I was a mere three years old. It is where I was adopted by the rulers of the town, the Mortrinaets, who would then create the Laws of Abundance within days of my adoption. A law, with quite the peculiar origin story. A law which made sure not one person would have more, or less, than the next. Not even the King or Queen. At first the people were disagreeable. The noblemen more so than any other, as they felt they had to give up the most. First and foremost, their titles and wealth. Some of them tried to enact an uprising by offering wealth to the poor, others fled the town looking to gather their riches elsewhere. In the end, it all did work out, and all did their part. The impressive consequence of the Law, however, was the motivation it gave the people once all was truly and well explained to them, and understood by them. The poor, who never had a dime, could suddenly have the wealth of what once was a nobleman, and the noblemen could in theory keep their wealth, or become even richer still; so long as all worked equally hard and as one, and so long as profits and productivity rose even more so that all could receive an even bigger share. A’nderi’k grew from a small mountain village into a large and open Kingdom of peace. Not even walls were set up to ward off enemies, for A’nderi’k only saw allies. I watched it grow with my very own eyes. People came from far and wide, and before my teenage years had even finished; we already were the largest and most thriving Kingdom in all of Tri-Earth. Impressed by the prosperity of A’nderi’k; but most of all that they had accomplished this all without any bloodshed; all of Tri-Earth soon proclaimed A’nderi’k as the new Capital of Tri-Earth and all adopted the Laws of Abundance for themselves, and the land prospered as it never had before .. until the shadows came. Though, none but a handful of my most trusted friends would ever believe you if you repeated what I said next.  Past midnight, on the night of my sixteenth birthday, I laid restless in bed. After tossing and turning for several hours, I decided to take a stroll through the castle. If only I had stayed in bed that night.. As I walked out of the hallway, I heard a strange sound. I assumed it was father or mother, because I could see a dim light coming from around the corner, where father liked to read his books by the open fireplace. I crossed the hall, went around the corner and as I wanted to walk inside of the room my foot froze, in mid-air. It was .. upsetting. I tried to push it down, but nothing happened. I wanted to yell out, but no sound came from my mouth. I tried to grasp at my throat, but my arms wouldn’t move. It was .. very upsetting. Then I heard that strange sound again. I still can’t quite explain it, even after all of this time. But whatever it was, it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. I tried to look up, peer into the room. But I could barely make out a chair and a table in the dimming light. The fire in the fireplace was dying out. Then I saw my father grab a book from the chair, and take a seat, while my mother quickly followed and sat on his lap. They were giggling, I felt uncomfortable watching it, so I looked away. Maybe for the best.. Because moments later I heard my mother scream and immediately looked up, but it had already happened. My mother laid on the floor, in front of the fireplace, her throat slit deeply, down to the neckbone; while a shadowy figure had impaled my father through his chair and was staring right at me, with glowing red eyes. A shadowy figure in the shape of a man .. He looked so familiar.. But before I could take in this haunting figure, someone had snuck up on me from behind and knocked me out cold. When I came to, the next day, at midday, my parents were strutting around, as if nothing had happened the day before. I feared that I was going mad, had I dreamed it all? But it felt so real, and if it isn’t, then where did this bump on my head come from? I needed answers, but I couldn’t find any. The castle felt deserted. Later that day I learned that my parents had decided to abolish the Kingdom, and instead make it a democracy, and created a new profession they would call ‘politician’ and simply gave these “politicians’ power over everything, even the law. The word ‘politician’ still gives me the heebie-jeebies. My parents withdrew from public view, and my own. They renounced the tasks mandated by thrones and crowns and from then on only appeared on holidays, or other events. Standing at the highest window of the tallest tower of the castle, waving at their subjects. Barely even distinguishable from the ground if it truly was them. Which they couldn’t be, right? They were murdered! By a shadow! .. Oh God, I sound insane, don’t I? Just questions and more questions, never any answers, and before I could even find any answers, I was sent away from the castle and sent to an orphanage instead, though the politicians called it a ‘home for lost children’, and then things just kept escalating and deteriorating from there on. The politicians created a law they called ‘The Re-establishing Order Act’. Which outlawed all former poor people, all those who were referred to as ‘peasants’ or ‘commoners’ before the Laws of Abundance. Their wealth, belongings and houses were taken from them. The first ones they used as slaves to build massive walls around the city. Once the walls were finished, they gave the poor a choice. Twenty years in prison and then slavery, or to live freely, but in the harsh wilderness outside of the walls. Where the lush greens had traded places with a gray and dead wasteland. Most chose to live outside of the town walls, of course, and were thrown broken pieces of wood and tree bark from the top of the walls so that they might build their own shelter, and that they did. They build their own little town from the rubble and waste the city discarded over the walls. “See it as our final act of kindness”, they had told them all.  The ‘Home for Lost Children’ was located in this newly constructed town. The politicians called it ‘Superfluous’. No one really knew what the word meant, except for the politicians who always giggled when they said it. Insult upon injury. By the time I was old enough to leave the ‘home for lost children’, most other nations had followed A’nderi’k’s example. When their power grew, so did their shadows, and out of the shadows came two figures who would take control of A’nderi’k, and once they had taken hold of the capital, all of Tri-Earth followed next. Soon all forms of shelter, philanthropy, help, socialism and the like were outlawed, punishable with a lifelong sentence in the darkest, wettest, prisons they had. The adults fled Superfluous. Sadly the same was true for the orphanage. Our caretakers, if you could call them that, had all left before I even turned eighteen, leaving me as the eldest to take care of everyone else there, and the burden of their survival and safety. ‘The Superfluous Quintet’, we called ourselves. Though, we didn’t start out as a quintet. We were many, once upon a time. When the adults were still with us, there were seventy children, fifty five of us were orphans, and ten adults, a group of eighty in total. We also had three elderly couples and a widowed woman who lived down the street, who often came by to help look after all of the children. We would cook and eat together. Most of the Backstreets in Superfluous was made up of just the orphans, our caretakers and their own children. We had a whole neighbourhood all to ourselves, and even though I used to be the Prince, I think that may have been the most free I have ever felt in my whole life. One day, Charles, who had been sent to the store as the eldest at the time, came running home, sweating profusely. His black hair sticking to his face. I remember the panic in Marjorie’s eyes, at first; our head caretaker. But Charles quickly raised his hand and assured her that it wasn’t "anything profoundly terrible”. Which made Marjorie relax instantly, which made everyone else relax, and then he grabbed her hand, took her outside. Curious as I always am, I followed them, from a distance of course. I was born with a natural sense of stealthyness, a gift I was putting to good use. Charles took Marjorie all the way to the other side of the street, I followed them up to the big old oak tree that stood at the side of the street, and climbed it as fast and quiet as I could. I looked for one of the bigger, and thicker branches that almost reached to the other side of the tree, and crossed paths with a thick branch from the tree on the other side; this was not my first time doing this, of course. When I reached the other side, and climbed down the tree, I quickly moved behind a wagon and snuck up close enough to just barely make out the words they were whispering to each other.  “Are you sure?”, I heard Marjorie ask Charles, she sounded terrified, and then asked him again. “Are you absolutely sure?”. My heart was racing, and I had no idea why. I wanted to know what they were talking about, but at the same time I had this gnawing feeling that something terrible was about to happen.  “Yeah, I’m definitely, positively, absolutely sure about this. There was no one, not a soul”, Charles answered before I could plug my ears, now I was even more intrigued, Who wasn’t there, and where is ‘there’? What was he talking about? I wanted to know. “Oh, except for that old man”, I heard Charles mumble.  “What old man?”, Marjorie asked the right question.  “Well, he said he was from County One, said that all the trees started dying, so everyone started moving to County Two, but then he said it happened there as well; and when they wanted to go to 3rd County it was already happening there as well. So, he says, the old man says that the leaders all came together and they all just left Superfluous. He said that he decided to stay because he was too old, but said he was regretting it now, was looking for people to go with, and then asked me, and that’s when the bandits came”.  I remember what Charles said word for word, because everything changed for me the day I discovered the truth. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it saved us. “Bandits?”, I heard Marjorie ask. “And they’re coming this way”, I remember it still, the moment he said those words. My heart stopped for a whole second. They used to tell us stories about bandits to make sure we’d be home before dark, but we all knew that they were just stories. Until now.  “They shot the old man, right in front of me, five arrows, right in his face!”, Charles said quite loudly.  “SHHHH!”, Marjorie shushed him. “And so you thought to lead them here?”, she asked him.  “Well, what else was I supposed to do?”, he asked her.  “You could’ve thought of the kids”, Marjorie replied angrily. If only she knew one of the kids was listening, and it just happened to be the one with the biggest mouth on him..  “What should we do?”, Charles asked Marjorie. “They know where we live”, he said panicked, and I panicked. Almost loud enough that they heard me, but luckily a rat just happened to swivel by to take the blame of the strange noise they’d just heard.  “Yes, and how do they know where we live, Charles!?”, Marjorie asked Charles, I took a peak and she was shaking Charles, “Because you … you led them here!”, she yelled at him. “I .. I .. I had to come home .. I .. I”. I suddenly lost all respect I had for Charles, whom I had seen as the bravest of us all. Leading us through many dangerous situations, all made up of course. But now that real danger comes knocking, he just opens the door and puts everyone at risk? I was shaking with rage, and it would only get worse.  “You have to lead them away from here”, Marjorie said. “You’re the oldest, and you led them here, now you’re gonna make sure they stay away long enough, so we can escape from here”, she sounded angry.  “You want me to sacrifice myself?”, Charles asked, who had grown angry as well.  “It’s the least you can do after putting all of our lives in danger because you’re a coward”. I was baffled. I’d never heard Marjorie talk like that, not even in that tone. She no longer sounded angry. She sounded .. evil. My anger had traded places with fear. I felt the moment had come to retreat, and I carefully made my move back towards the tree, but not before I heard her say the words; “You won’t be the only sacrifice today”, it chilled me to the bone. But before I could even process the words, Marjorie wanted to cross the road. In a panic I crawled under the wagon, rather than behind it.  “Aren’t you leaving?”, Marjorie had stopped in the middle of the road.  “I need a minute to think, then I’ll go, don’t worry”, Charles said softly, even I could barely hear him and I sat closest to him.  “Good”, Marjorie said. She turned around and I noticed her glance rested upon the wagon I was crouched under, but only for a second.  “Yeah, good”, Charles mumbled to himself as Marjorie stepped back into the house. A whole minute went by, or at least, that’s how long it felt, when suddenly a hand reached down the wagon and pulled me from under it.  “How much did you hear!?”, Charles had pressed me against a tree. “How much did you hear, Elamar?”. I was afraid. Even if I’d lost respect for him, he was still the oldest, the biggest, the strongest. Of course he would be afraid of bandits with bows and arrows, but I’m not a bandit, nor do I have a bow and arrow. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, was all I managed to say. Fear stopped me from thinking straight. Tears started flowing from my eyes.  “Oh, no .. Elamar.. Come on, man. You’re already seventeen.. This shouldn’t scare you like this ..”, Charles said, utterly disappointed. It broke me in tiny little pieces. “Come on, it’s okay”, he grabbed me by my shoulders and spoke to me as if I was a child, and who could blame him as I stood there, sobbing like one. Charles sighed and then just left me there, “Just .. just don’t tell anyone what you heard, okay?”, were the last words he told me, and all I could do was watch him walk until he turned the corner, he didn’t look behind him once. I felt abandoned, again. I wiped my face clean and got ready to go back inside, when the front door swung open and Phil left the house, he was Marjorie’s husband, quickly followed by every other adult who lived in the house, as well their own children. Marjorie was the last to leave the house, hushing everyone. Phil, with Max and Jack, two of the other caretakers, had taken the horses from the stables and were moving towards the wagon. I contemplated my options quickly. I could confront them, ask them why they hadn’t brought along any of the orphans with them, but then I remembered Marjorie’s words. “You won’t be the only sacrifice tonight”, and I decided my safest bet was to climb back under the parked wagon. I watched how they put the kids and the elderly in their own wagon, along with their luggage, and then they left, headed in the opposite way of Charles. I didn’t wait until I saw them pass the corner. But before I could climb down, I heard footsteps and I froze. They sounded louder and closer by the second, I was too afraid to look up, too afraid to see who it was, too afraid that they might be the very bandits that were coming. Too afraid that they might see me. The running stopped just under the tree, and then they walked towards the house, I gathered my courage and looked, but I was too late, he’d already entered the house, all I could see was a foot. Not even ten minutes later the door opened again, it was Charles, I was filled with joy, he came to save us all. Only .. he didn’t. Followed right after Charles were all of the oldest kids. Charles was urging them to move quickly, they all passed under the tree.  “I don’t think I’m comfortable with leaving the little ones like that”, Molly said.  “Me either”, Isabella agreed.  “You didn’t even tell us anything”, Soraia said, I was madly in love with Soraia. Until this day, until this moment. “It’s not that I mind leaving these losers behind, but where are we going and who are we running from? Where are the adults?”, with each word she said, she grew more grotesque in my eyes.  “You can’t be serious, can you, Soraia?”, Jackson asked, he was my best friend. “I’m staying”, he stood his ground firmly.  “Then why did you leave the house?”, Soraia asked him.  “I didn’t want to make a scene inside and wake the littles”, Jackson replied to the new witch in town.  “We’re staying too”, Molly and Isabella said, they were the oldest after Charles.  “Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but I’m going back to bed”, Ishal said, he was the joker of the group.  “Fine, you can all die with the rest of the useless ones”, Charles growled, “We’re leaving”, he growled at the others, who all sheepishly afraid followed their wolf in sheep's clothing. They followed the direction the adults had left in, only to turn at a different corner. Following behind him were thirty-four teens.  “There’s only twenty of us left now”, I heard Jackson say, which hurt, because he forgot to count me. Why do they always forget to count me? I decided I could no longer stay hidden, “Dude, aren’t you forgetting someone?”, I asked my best friend from under the wagon

K.L. Runaya
3 1

The Promised Ones prologue 'Hello, There'

Hello, There   Have you ever seen or experienced strange things? Things you could not explain? A strange figure in the corner of your eye? But when you look nothing is there? Or a face in your grandmother’s carpet? But when you rub your eyes the face is gone? Or perhaps you’ve been able to answer a person’s question even before they asked? As if you already knew the question they were about to pop. Or maybe, just maybe, you thought you heard an animal speak in our human language? Even if just for a brief second. Even if it were just a single word. Have you ever had special friends that only you could see? Friends you would see daily, and who would even visit you in your dreams? Have you ever been bullied just for being yourself? When everyone else seemed to be poorly made copies of each other? Have you ever been told that you are ‘too smart for your own good’? When you were just trying to help? Have you always been the scapegoat? Even though everyone knew you weren’t the guilty one? Have you ever felt helpless and misunderstood, when all you wanted was to be accepted? Well then, perhaps and maybe; you could very well be a ‘Promised One’. One who is plagued by ‘Unwillings’, and this story might just be the very thing you have been looking for. The end to that gnawing feeling of being misunderstood. Finally an answer to your burning questions. “Who am I”? “Why does nobody like me”? “Why am I bullied”? “What is the purpose of life”? Well, maybe not the last one. But a ‘Promised One’ definitely faces the others regularly. You see, a ‘Promised One’ has a special aura that surrounds them. It envelops them. Each ‘Promised One’ has their own color, only seen by their fellow ‘Promised Ones’. This color can always change depending on their emotions. Or even by growing up. This aura is invisible to all ‘Normals’, but everyone and everything can sense the aura of a ‘Promised One’. Animals will tend to feel more relaxed around you, and bullies will tend to feel more agitated. Because the aura of a ‘Promised One’ is pure Goodness. In every sense of the word. It is the blessing of the Gods, and their warmth and love that shines through. The ‘Promised Ones’ are the chosen champions of the Gods. Every religion. Every God. Every country, every city, every household has their champions chosen at birth. Once chosen, you face a life filled with hardships. Designed to strengthen you. To bring you up. Then tear you down and force you to start all over again, your entire life, until you are called upon to join the fight. A ‘Promised One’ is gifted with eternal life, in a sense. At first they are called ‘Neos’. But ‘Neos’ do still age and die, and are sent to their preferred version of heaven. There they become ‘Paleos’ and await the final war, where they will be risen again to join the fight. It is a great honor to be a ‘Promised One’. So, don’t ever feel ashamed for being good, or nice. For being different, or weird. For being wise beyond your years. Don’t ever feel discouraged. You are not alone. You are one of billions. Spread out across history, time and space. But know also; that for each ‘Promised One’ there are five ‘Unwillings’ who are chosen as well. By the forces of evil and corporate greed. These ‘Unwillings’ are indeed the very people you are thinking of right now at this very moment. Yes, thât bully you know, and yes, thât politician says all those nasty things. ‘Unwillings’ are designed to sniff out the aura of a ‘Promised One’. They are single-minded creatures divided into two roles. The ‘Alphas’ focus solely on destroying the ‘Promised Ones’. While the ‘Omegas’ are designed to break the minds of a ‘Promised One’. They then force them into becoming ‘Unwillings’. These broken ‘Promised Ones’ become known as ‘Betas’. They are in every essence of the word the servants and shields of the ‘Omegas’.  So, please; my ‘Promised Ones’. Please, keep on fighting. Keep on struggling. Never give up. Because sooner, rather than later, it might be your turn to join the fight.

K.L. Runaya
5 1

The Symphonies of Life and Fantasy: Allegro/Run Prologue 'After the War'

0.1 After the War   This is the story of Enael, a man born from a God, and his family trying to survive in a world that wants them dead. Enael and his family are on the run from poachers. They want to see the heads of the God-kin mounted above their fireplaces. And hunters ,who crave God-flesh more than anything else.  “Shh, be quiet, Issa”, Enael hissed at his daughter. “We don’t want them to hear us”. Issa, a six-year old girl that had grown fairy wings that did not fly, giggled loudly. “But, papa, look”, she said, amused. Playing with a little bug that crawled over her fingers.  “You have to be quiet now, Issa”, her mother said. Issa admired her mother even more than she did her father. The beauty of her mother was beyond anything the girl had seen in others. She looked into her mother’s perfect green eyes, but they weren’t smiling. “I’m sorry, mama”, the girl said, bowing her head. She didn't like it when her mother's eyes did not smile. “You always get us into trouble, Issa”, her brother said, poking her in the side. He had a rough look to him, even at only fourteen, he was already growing a few hairs on his chin. And he was nearly as tall as his father. “You do too, Enalo”, Issa defended herself.  “Quiet now”, Enael told his two children, tapping each on the forehead. “They’re here”, he looked at his wife; “Isala”, he said, “I have to distract them .. somehow”, but he said it with such dread in his voice that it scared Isala to her core.  “What do you mean?”, she replied. 'Please don't say something stupid', she thought as she looked at the man she had loved for almost twenty years. “Just .. just look after the children”, Enael replied. “I’ll be back soon enough”, he said. “And keep them quiet .. please”, and he ran off. Isala reached out but came an inch too short to grab her husband’s hand and beg him to stay. He was gone, into the darkness of the night. Leaving her with the children. And the responsibility to keep them safe. A few seconds later loud banging could be heard. As if someone was smacking wood on rock. Then a shout. Isala couldn't make out the words, but she immediately recognised her husband’s voice. The group of hunters that were closing in on Isala, and the children' s location changed course. They got distracted by the noises and decided to march out and see where they were coming from. There were about six of them, Isala noticed. All dressed in the same brown leather with a hammer and coin emblazoned on their backs; the sigil of the House of Géad. Direct descendants of The Originals. Or so they claim. In truth, they stole the title of Originals from the first humanoids. The True Originals. House Gèad was the wealthiest House on the continent. They employed nearly all common folk, most of which simply served as lambs on the battlefield. Gearn Géad, the former Head of the Family. Was the first to create currencies by creating coins from gold and silver. He acquired these minerals from the mines he had claimed through bloodshed. He had used this to increase his sway over the continent and establish himself, and his lineage. As the most powerful House for several generations.  Isala felt an intense sense of fear seeing that hammer and coin sigil. The Géads are not known for their understanding nature. Any skirmish with them, no matter how petty. Would always result in a bloodbath. Isala feared for her husband's life. But Enael did not give her a lot of time to contemplate every terrible outcome. Another ten minutes later, after all of the Géad hunters were gone from sight. Enael suddenly popped back up behind his wife and kids. Before Enala had even begun her, and the children’s, escape. Scaring his wife so much, her face turned white. “See?”, he said, smiling a wide smile. “I told you everything would be alright?”, he then gave a confused look, “Why didn’t you escape though?”. “You scared me, you .. I was worried”, Isala said, caressing her husband's face before hugging him. “I was waiting for them to be far enough to not see us, or hear us”. Enalo and Issa shouted “Papa!”, at the same time. Forcing their parents to unlock from their embrace. And shush their two young ones, quite loudly themselves.  “Let’s go, we can’t stay here”, Enael said. Looking over the bushes to see if the Géads were still busy looking for him. “But where will we go?”, Isala asked.  “I was thinking about going to the Green Wizard”, Enael replied. His eyes seemed afraid to look at his wife, he knew her thoughts about magic. Ever since her own family had been tricked by hunters. They were promised safe passage. But were instead led to Slaughterhause. Overseen by House Adoìrs. A prison, of sorts. Though a place of torture would be a more accurate description. Isala's family never saw daylight again. “We can’t, Ena”, Isala told her husband. “We’ll put the kids in even more danger. They’re hunting magic users and God-kin. We’d be a buffet to them”.  “There’s no other option”, Enael argued. “It’s the only way we can secure ourselves. They’re whisking people up, to safety”, he said, he sounded so hopeful that Isala felt some of it seep into her. “Who is though?”, she asked her husband. If she'd let him. He would be with his head in the clouds every minute of every day. “The Gods, Isa, The Gods!”, he said, almost ecstatic. “They’ve come back for us, to save us”.  “Us too, papa?”, Enalo asked.  “Yes, my boy. All of us, anyone with magic and God-blood”, Enael replied.  “And we must go to the green wizard for this?”, Isala asked. "We can not ask another for aid?". “I know how you feel, darling”, Enael began, but before he continued, Isala interrupted him.  “This is not about my family”, she straightened her back and stood strong. "I can not let my children, òùr children, suffer the same fate as they have. This is about protecting the kids, Ena”.  “I know, my love. I know”, Enael replied to the love of his life. “But that is what I’m trying to do as well. Don’t you think we’ll be safer if we’re far away from here? Far from all of this destruction, greed and murder? Far from the Géads, Adoìrs, Fìachs and Cògas clans?”, he asked, but more loudly and angrily than he had intended. Isala flinched a little. “I’m sorry”, Enael said, taking his wife’s tender hand; “I love you”, he told her, kissing her hand apologetically. “And I you, my love”, she spoke softly, whispering it almost, as if it was just their little secret. Her green eyes got lost in his bright blue ones.  “We should move. There’s no telling when another round of guards will show up”, Enael looked into his wife’s eyes; “You know we must, don’t you? You understand why we must, right?” He asked her, spotting a hint of fear in her eyes that quickly changed to a mother’s determination.  “Let’s go see your Green Wizard”, she answered. “Where does the wizard live, papa?”, Issa asked her father, pulling on his pants. They had been walking for quite a while already. “Papa?”, the six-year old repeated, impatiently.  Enael hunched over to pick up his daughter. Then put her on his right shoulder and pointed towards a forest still many miles away. With trees so big, it seemed as if the green wonder laid just around the corner. “In The Forest of Fathach”, he said, as the family of four walked towards the forest. “Legend says that giants live in The Forest of Fathach. And that even the animals there are gigantified”, Enael said, waving his hands to mystify Issa.  “What’s.. what’s djaaj djaaj djifjied, papa?”, Issa asked.  “Gigantified is when animals become sooooo big. That you look like a tiny little pixie mouse to them”, Enael replied, smiling.  “I want a djadjadjifiej pixie mouse like that, papa”, Issa said. “Can I? Can I? Please?”, she begged. Enael merely smiled at his six-year old daughter, who was the spitting image of her mother. Except for her eyes, she had her father’s sneaky dark blue eyes.  The trees looked even more impressive from up close. Enael had to gasp at their magnificence and how small it made him feel. ‘What if the stories about the giants are actually true?’, he thought. ‘They don’t eat humans .. right?’, he asked himself in thought.  “What’s wrong?”, Isala asked, seeing the worried look upon her husband’s face.  “It’s nothing”, he replied. “Don’t worry”, he smiled. His face was pale. “What are you doing?”, Isala said, mockingly. “You know you can not trick me, husband”, she said, sure of herself. “I know you, Enael Sturm”.  Enael smiled at his wife, ever playful. “I was just thinking”, he said.  “Yes?”, she asked, batting her eyes. "About me, I wager", she smiled. Enael leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. So the children would not hear. “What if the legends about the giants are actually real?”, he asked his wife“. Do you think they eat people?”, he gulped loudly in her ear. “That is where your mind was?”, Isala asked, surprised.  “It was”, Enael replied, rather bluntly. “I thought you knew me?”, he jested.  “So did I”, she scoffed at him. Enael chuckled. “So?”, he asked.  “So, what?”, Isala replied, her eyes locked on Enalo and Issa, who had run a little ahead of their parents.  “So, what do you think? About the..”, Enael looked ahead to see if the children were out of hearing range, “..about the giants”, he whispered. Just to be on the safe side.  “Well, if there are any, chances are that we’ll hear them, right?”, Isala shrugged. “They shake the ground as they walk, right? At least, I would assume that they do. Being as large as they are. I find it hard to believe that they would be able to sneak up on us”, Isala said. “And if we come across any, we could simply hide in the bushes, they’re bigger than us”, she giggled. Pointing at a bush that towered over the family of four. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”, Enael sulked.  “Oh, honey”, Isala said, smiling. “They’re just legends. Giants haven’t been seen since the days of The Originals, the True Originals. And even of those Giants there is no proof they have ever really existed”. “There’s other creatures who lived during the times of the Originals. And they’re still alive today”, Enael replied, defensively. “Like the little colourful furballs who eat bad emotions that Issa loves so much". Isala touched Enael’s cheek with her right hand. “I’ll protect you”, she said.  “You mock me again”, her husband replied.  “No, no. I’m serious”, she said, smiling. “I shall protect you from all the wicked monsters in the forest, Enael Strum”, she winked. Enael sighed, “Let us put this topic to rest”, he said. Isala touched his cheek again and gave him a kiss on the lips. “Yes, let’s”, she replied. She turned her head to check on the children. The two had disappeared from her line of sight. “The kids”, she said, panicked. “The kids are gone, where are the kids?”. Enael moved instantly. In only two seconds flat he had moved all the way to the base of the next tree. Isala had her husband in her sights, and watched his body relax and raise his thumb. Isala felt herself relax instantly and ran towards her husband.  Enalo and Issa were sitting against the tree, they had found a small creature. It was wounded.  “Papa, look”, Issa said, excitedly.  “It’s hurt, papa”, Enalo said with worried eyes, cradling the creature in his arms. “What is it, papa? What is it?”, Issa asked, trying to pet the wounded animal.  “Don’t touch it, leave it alone!”, Enalo shouted, shielding the creature from his younger sister. “Calm down, calm down, both of you”, Enael commanded. He crouched down to take a better look at the creature. He had never seen anything like it before. It had soft shiny red and black fur with dots all over in different colours. It had a long body and a fluffy tail, and bright blue eyes that made it seem intelligent. “What is it, papa?”, Issa asked again, ever impatient.  “I have no idea”, Enael said. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it before”, he said, just as Isala arrived.  “What are you two doing now?”, she asked, out of breath. “What is that?”, she asked when she noticed the creature in Enalo's arms.  “It’s hurt, mama", Enalo said. “We have to help it”. “We will, Ennie. We will”, Isala said, caressing her son’s head. She felt so proud of her eight-year old. “Let me see”, she removed her scarf and laid it on the ground. “Put it here”, she told Enalo, he very carefully, and softly, placed the animal on his mother’s scarf.  Isala checked the small creature. It had a small wound on its right hind leg, which seemed to be broken. “Go find me a strong stick”, she told Enalo. “Its leg is broken, we can at least make it a splint”, she said. “Though, I can’t do anything about this bleeding”.  “What about the Green Wizard, mama?”, Issa asked.  “That’s brilliant, baby girls!" Enael said proudly. "We should make haste and find the wizard". Enael plucked his daughter up from his shoulder, as if she were a piece of decoration. And put her with her feet back on the ground, then crouched down. "You know. Legend says that if you knock on a hollow tree and whisper for help in the tree, that hè will find you”.  "Really?" Issa asked her father. Her eyes sparkling. “So, we need a hollow tree?”, Isala asked her husband. She was ready to believe anything. Especially if it meant protecting her children from heartache. Losing this surprisingly adorable creature would hurt her precious babies too much. “Let’s find one”, she said. “Issa, you go with your papa. Enalo, you come with me. If you find something, shout for the others, and don’t go too far”, she said.  The search was short, very short. So short that Isala was startled when Issa was shouting for her. She thought danger had come, ‘Please, don’t be giants’, she caught herself thinking.  “Mama, mama!”, Issa continued shouting from just three trees further down. Which was quite a brisk walk. Every tree’s trunk Isala had seen was wider than any house she had ever seen. And she had seen a lot of houses.. “Mama, we found him, we found him!”, Isala’s body relaxed instantly. “We’re coming over!”, she shouted back. When Isala and Enalo had walked up to the second tree, they saw a glimpse of a rather short man. He was even shorter than Issa. The man was dressed in brown and green. And had a bushy orange beard and long messy orange hair, both had green flower buds in them. As soon as he caught a glimpse of the Green Wizard, Enalo ran towards him. He was still cradling the wounded animal in his arms, draped in his mother’s scarf. And fell to his knees in front of the small green man.  “Please, help her”, Enalo begged.  “Hmm?”, the little green man said, puffing smoke from a pipe he quickly tucked away in his beard. The smoke had a skunky smell to it. “What’s this?”, the Green Wizard asked.  “I found her like this, she’s hurt”, Enalo answered. “She is a he”, the Green Wizard said playfully. “And he is quite the rare find. He does not belong in our time. I shall help you, Little one”, the wizard whispered in the creature's ear. He then snapped his fingers above the little unknown animal and just like that, it popped up. Happy and healthy. It rubbed its head against the wizard’s beard, purring loudly. Though, it distinctly sounded like laughter. Enalo could barely believe his eyes, completely at a loss for words. He could merely sit there, mouth wide open.  “Mama, mama. He fixed the thingy”, Issa shouted happily when Isala had joined her family. "Oh, how lovely, my darling", Isala told her daughter. "Thank you, Green Wizard", Isala told the little green man. "Oh, no. No, no. There is no need for thanks", the green wizard smiled. He seemed to blush. Though it was barely visible in his red beard and hair. The wizard took off his hat and played with it a little. "Tis my duty, after all. And you may call me Green", he smiled a crooked yellow smile. Issa noticed the Green Wizard’s ears when the wizard had pulled down his hat. Large and pointy. Larger and pointier than any she had ever seen. Issa tried her best to touch them. But the tiny old wizard slapped her hand away at each attempt.  “Look at his ears, mama”, the girl giggled. “They’re funny”. She tried to grab the Green Wizard’s long and pointy ears yet again. “I’ve told you to stop doing that”, the wizard said. Slapping the six year old's hand away for the tenth time. “Issa, come now. We’ve talked about this already”, Enael said. Pulling his daughter away from the little green wizard. "You can't just do this to people". “But, papa, I want to play with him”, she said, letting her lip hang.  “I know. But he doesn’t want to play with you”, Enael said. “He’s an old .. uhm.. man?”, Enael scratched the back of his head. “Just let the man be in peace, we’re here to ask for his help. Not to terrorize him”.  “Papa, can we keep it?” Enalo suddenly asked his father. He was hugging the healed creature. Enael wanted to reply. But before he could the wizard snapped his fingers again. And the creature floated out of Enalo's arms and towards the Green Wizard.  “As I’ve said”, the wizard said, his index finger stretched out. “This one does not belong here”, he snapped his fingers again and with a loud pop the creature had disappeared. “Now, what is it that I might do for you fine folk?”, the Green Wizard smiled.  “What did you do to it!?”, Enalo screamed.  “Why, I’ve sent it back home. Of course”, the little green-ish man replied.  “Home?”, Enalo asked, suspiciously.  “Yes. Back to his time. Where he will be very happy to have returned to. For this one has an important figure to meet, and three others”, Green smiled. “Now”, he turned his attention back to Enael and Isala. “What was it again that I could do for you? Have you told me yet? I must’ve not heard you. Go on. Go on. Tell me your wish”, he said playfully.  “We.. we’ve heard that you .. that you help our kind”, Enael said. “We’ve heard that you give safe passage to those in need. That you whisk them away to the White City”, Enael pulled down the flap of leather he wore for a hat and revealed his ears. Not nearly as pointy as those of the Green Wizard. But not at all rounded like those of a human. Enael gestured to his family to do the same, and they all revealed their ears. “Oh. Oh, no. No, no no”, the Green Wizard said. “Not to the White City, no”, he said. “The magic supporting that door has all but been destroyed. To go there is to lock yourselves up for all of eternity. No, I send people to a new place, found by one of your own, one of the Demi-Gods. They’ve called it Demi-Earth. Our kind lives there in peace”, the Green Wizard said. “It’s a place with even more magic than here”. “Why don’t you live there, if I might ask”, Enael asked.  “Because it is my purpose to stay here and wait”, the Green Wizard said, nonchalantly.  “Wait?”, Enael asked, confused. “For what?”.  “Not for what, but for who”, the Green Wizard said, almost amused.  “Okay, then. For who?”, Enael shrugged. “Yes, that ìs the question”. The wizard pulled out the pipe from within his beard again and lit it with his pinky finger. He inhaled deeply and then blew out his skunky smelling smoke.  “So, you don’t know?”, Enael said. Clearing the thick white smoke that had made the little green man disappear.  “No”, the Green Wizard’s voice replied amused from within the smoke. “But I will once I meet them, I’m sure of it”, he said. “I’m not too worried”. Enael could just barely see the Green Wizard give a nonchalant shrug with his shoulders.  “No, you certainly don’t seem to be”, Enael said, starting to question the sanity of this wizard.  “So, what are you anyway?”, Issa asked.  “Issa!”, Isala shouted, shocked. “Behave!”.  “It’s quite alright”, the Green Wizard said, his eyes glazing. “Once upon a time. A great villain kidnapped a beautiful princess. But no one came to save the princess”, the Green Wizard said, immediately mesmerizing Issa. “No one?”, she gasped.  “No, no one”, the Green Wizard replied. “Then what happened?”, Issa asked, her eyes widening.  “Well”, the Green Wizard began. “They fell in love". "No!", Issa gasped. "Yes", Green smiled. "Even though they were of two different species. The great villain fell in love with the princess. No one had paid them any attention. That was, until the duo announced their wedding. Soon the whole world opposed their union”, he fell silent for a few seconds, his eyes saddened. “Well, long story short. That is definitely not how I was born. Now let’s send you all off to your new home”, he spoke quickly, but with a smirk curled around the edges of his lips. But he spoke so quickly, he left no room for anyone else to say but even a word. The Green Wizard grinned, bearing a few sharp yellowed teeth. He tapped his nose and with a poof, the family of Enael had disappeared and was sent off to their new home. “Oof”, the Green Wizard sighed. “That was a close one”, he said to himself. “Almost told them about mom and dad, and before you know it, Ì’m the one they’ll be hunting down”, he sighed. “You gotta be smarter about this, Relùq Tianse. You gotta be smarter about this, Relùq”. The Green Wizard emptied his pipe, refilled it and lit it with his index finger this time. “Gotta be smarter about this”, he mumbled to himself as he exhaled.  Enael and his family had found themselves on Demi-Earth. Where they were welcomed by another tiny little bearded man. This one’s beard was gray and white with red strings running through them. His head was hiding under a red woolen hat. But Enael quickly noticed that it was bald. He wore a red robe and had a bright red nose.  “I’m Red”, he said. “Welcome to Demi-Earth”, he gestured at the landscape around them. A vast and empty grassfield. The family was standing next to the only tree in a wide area. It had served as their doorway. “I’ll be taking you to the witch now”, Red said. “Oh, and whatever you do; don’t deny her requests. You’ll come to regret it, that you will”, Red chuckled. “Witch!?”, Isala said with disgust and disbelief. She grabbed her husband’s arm; “I never agreed to that, Ena”.  “I know, my love. I know”, Enael turned to the little red wizard. “Why are you taking us to see a witch?”.  “Because”, the red wizard grinned. He lifted his right hand and readied himself to snap his fingers. Enael pleaded “No, wai..”. But with a pop, the family of 4 had disappeared. Off to see the witch.  

K.L. Runaya
6 1

The Symphonies of Life and Fantasy: Allegro/Lost Prologue 'As Gods Fall'

0.1 As Gods Fall   In a time long ago; on the world of Pangaea, or as it is more commonly known; Earth. Gods and beasts empowered with magic roamed the lush and beautiful planet. A history lost, a history rewritten; now unfolds.  The story of us all begins with three. The Universe, The Darkness and The First Light. When The Darkness was bored and decided to slumber, The Universe created Life. But Life was not born alone. Sprung from nowhere at all Death appeared and it held Life’s hand, never to let go. The truest love there shall ever be. And through their love, a love that would become known by The Immortals as Lide, three daughters were born. Solari, Lunalu and Eara, they called them. They would grow into their Celestial bodies and become known as the sun, the moon and the earth. The convergence of the three sisters created a fourth, a late-bloomer, Thime, was her name. She was a free spirit, but before long even she learned her duties. Thime became the first seed upon Earth and the first step towards life on the planet. She would become known as the Tree of Thime and stand strong. Gifting the world the ability to grow. Everything that came after Thime, originated from the once-free-spirit. Influencing them. All craved freedom more than anything. It would take several thousands of years until Thime learned to evolve even further. When, out of necessity, she would become forced to leave the Tree of Thime when its fate would be decided. Instead, Thime became nature personified; most would come to know her as Mother Nature. But, even more deities were born before Thime earned her true role in the grand scheme of things. But that is a story for a different time. For this is not Thime’s story, not yet, at least. The Gods were born from magic. The purest kind. And each deity was granted dominance over their own particular branch. And in every sense full control of their own domain. Their task was simple; nurture The Tree of Thime, and breathe life onto the planet called Earth, and so they did .. at first. The Gods would work together. And through them; nature and the animal kingdom flourished. They created many majestic things. Creatures that towered even over the vegetation of the planet itself. Some even as tall as mountains. But all lacked one thing that would separate them from all others. They could not take over the Gods’ tasks, for the Gods had grown tired and lazy. In the absence of Life and Death, the truest love there shall ever be; God-kin grew restless. They grew weary of their menial tasks. They craved a more leisurely life, they craved freedom; and so it happened. A young God by the name of Dolomius, had taken it upon himself to take charge of the Gods and devise a new plan. He fancied himself to be the first-born God and had dubbed himself “Father of the Gods, and King of the Gods”. Born from rock and thunder; none dared oppose him, and his brute force. Hundreds of years went by, thousands, millions.. and finally; Dolomius’ plan came to full fruition. They had successfully created the perfect creature. One such creature was created in their own image. A plan devised by the self-proclaimed King of the Gods. A plan based on a dream he once had. A plan that would lead to freedom. Now, finally. The creature that would lead them there had been completed. And they had named it; a ‘human’, and with it, all of their hopes and dreams of leisurely freedom unlocked. Out of their full bestiary. Humanity was the first of their creatures to be given the honor of speech and free will. They were designed to look like the Gods. Except for the eyes and ears. Where God-kin had sharply pointed ears; they had given humanity rounded ears. As for the eyes of the Gods .. well, let’s just say that their domains can be deduced by looking into them. The raging thunder, the deadly sea, the bewildered forests, and so much more. Eyes that were more than merely eyes. But worlds of their own. Humanity would eventually become so popular among God-kin. Some would even bed them and create a brand-new offspring. At first frowned upon. But when even Dolomius could not help himself. The practice became normalized. And in time half of the human population were, in fact, descended from the Gods. Their ears were less pointy. So they could not be named God-kin, but neither were they rounded, and so humanity did not wish to claim them either. Instead, they would call themselves Demi-Gods. Named so after Demiis Roi’in. The first of the Demi-Gods to make a name for himself. And earn the respect of both God-kin and humanity. His role eventually was so enlarged, he would even earn the honor of sitting at the High Council. It is this historical moment that would eventually give the Gods courage, and hope. They knew now that their Demi-God offspring would be able to take over their own Godly duties. That they would be able to rule in their stead. They had hoped that the Demi-Gods would lead humanity into prosperity. And for many decades all was well. Humanity quickly learned to farm, to build, and to expand. It all happened fast, faster than even the Gods themselves had anticipated. But they could not be more rejoiced. For now, finally. They were able to take their long awaited vacation. Millenia they had craved to truly enjoy immortality. Finally they could depart to The White City, the City in the Clouds. Created by one of their own; Whiskwhisper, the God of Transportation.  But it did not take long for humanity to become too independent. How quickly they had forgotten who it was that had created them in the first place, and why. Now believing they were born to inherit the planet and rule it. They would form factions and create borders. They divided the continent, as if they owned it themselves and it was theirs to do with as they so pleased. Demi-Gods were relieved of their overseeing positions. And were instead forced to work for the increasingly aggressive humans. Forced into slavery, or worse. Soon after; a group witnessed a carnivore devour another creature. Never before seen curiosity drove the humans to sit by and watch. Greedily they feasted their eyes as the carnivore filled its belly, and walked away. As soon as the beast had turned its back. Like scavengers they scurried towards the carcass. And had their first taste of flesh and blood. The vegetarians became herbivores, and so Hunters were born. Shortly after. A dispute between two different hunting groups erupted into a violent massacre. And War was born. Humans would follow another human into war, and a thirst for Power was born.  New Gods, born from the depravity of humanity, came into power. Hidden and invisible, specters and whispers; influencing every mortal that walked the continent. This, and so much more, had all transpired while the Gods had left to live above the clouds. It was a majestic place, beyond the imagination of a mere mortal. Located in a pocket dimension within a bright white cloud. Only accessible by the Gods. Their offspring, and whomever they brought with them, or deemed worthy.  But, since God-kin were immortal, it compromised their sense of time. What seemed a few years to them was in fact several hundreds of years for humanity. And by the time the Gods felt their power wavering, weakening, it was already too late. Humanity had already grown too large, too independent, and too violent. While their own offspring, the Demi-Gods, had decreased in numbers drastically. Some were sold into slavery and died as slaves. Others were violently murdered while trying to escape their fate. The lucky ones could still lean upon a friendly human or two. But their lives were nothing to fight for, living in hiding. The truly desperate had cut off their own ears. Which tragically made themselves easier to spot by hunters. Humanity had created new Gods. Their own Gods. Gods that would become real due to the magic that still filled the earth and air. Magic that originated from The Tree of Thime. And empowered through their prayers. Humanity created Gods influenced by the Hunt, by Power and by War came. Selfish and greedy Gods. Gods who would come to rule humanity through manipulation. And plunge the planet into a state of perpetual fear for many countless forgotten years.  When the True Gods finally noticed their powers wavering. And looked down on Earth and their creation; they were appalled by the insult. Dolomius commanded The Gods, àll of The Gods, to come down and punish humanity.  Some Gods; such as Reoscilla, Goddess of Visions; would argue that “The humans are but children. Putting them on trial would be the right thing to do”, Reoscilla had said, naively. A thing she would come to regret. “They have stepped out of bounds. This I can not tolerate. Now, they rule as Kings. But soon they shall be reminded who it is that truly has the power here on Eara”, The King of the Gods growled like a lion.  Yet, things did not go as planned. When Dolomius, King of the Gods. Opened the door connecting their pocket dimension to Earth. A bright light could be seen in the sky by the armies standing at the ready in the dirt and rain. The door stood open for a whole thirty minutes. But for humanity, those thirty minutes were forty-eight hours. Terrified, humanity joined together for the first time in their God-less history. Arming themselves and pointing every ballistic weapon at their disposal towards the skies.  When The Gods finally descended down upon their former paradise. Humanity had agreed they would engulf the deities in a sea of arrows and spears; and so it came to be. With radiating light. The Gods left The White City and, for the first time in almost a million years, they descended back down upon Earth. The humans did not let their fear cloud their paranoia and they pigheadedly held to their plan. A pitch-black cloud of arrows and spears were shot at the descending God-kin. Every human nation had directed their attention towards the flying figures covered in a bright radiating light. The creators they had forgotten existed. Ignorant to who they truly were, the humans only saw a more superior creature, a threat to their rule. They joined forces, only to fight an enemy bigger than any one of them could handle by themselves. Only out of self-preservation could there be peace among them. If only momentarily. Arrogant and angry. King Dolomius, Father of the Gods. Along with the four sons he created from lightning, thunder, rock and earth. Moved quick and fast as light itself. Taking the lead in the assault, ready to lay waste to those who would dare attack The Gods. Arrows and spears flew by and missed the charging Gods. Angry, Dolomius stopped and seemed to grow even more in size as his rage built up. “YOU DARE ATTACK YOUR CREATORS!!!!??”, His voice roared like heavy thunder. Even the ground shook at his bellowing voice. As if it feared the wrath of the God that controlled it. But unbeknownst to Dolomius, nor the other Gods, they had all lost their immortality. You see, not one of the Gods had connected the dots. They did not realize that the loss of their power had been this severe. They had never even thought humanity to be capable of complete independence. Particularly in their Godly absence. That they would no longer need their creators, and least of all, that they would turn against them. They did not realize it until it was too late. Only three would escape. General Leorr, who realized the problem immediately. Had quickly saved The Twins, Velis and Vultis. The youngest of The Gods. By retreating with them to The White City; only they would escape the slaughter before it began. Just as Dolomius was ready to blow the humans away, a catapulted spear pierced the father of the Gods’ eye. A wave of shock went through the army of The Gods. They had all stopped moving, all eyes were set on their leader who let out a mighty roar. But the humans, they cheered at their prized shot. “Make them bleed!” One of the human soldiers shouted. The murderous rage in his voice had erased all aspects of any individual personality. “Make the Gods bleed!!”, the humans chanted together.  But the father of the Gods was unmoved, unfazed. He roared again, which made the earth shake even more. Cracks appeared in the ground, taking dozens of humans with them. As if the earth itself devoured them. Dolomius then pulled the spear out with a grunt, and threw it back down; impaling, and killing, five humans. A grin appeared on the God’s face. But it quickly turned to shock, and despair. Just a little north of the enemies he had just slain. There laid his sons. All four. All dead on the ground. Hopelessness crept into the mind of the Father of the Gods. Domius, the eldest. Had been completely run through by arrows and spears. He had clearly realized the danger before his brothers and had served as their shield. Dotwius lay right next to his twin brother, his limbs torn off. Dotrius and Doquatrius laid in the middle of a pile of dead humans. The two husky colossals had tried to avenge their fallen brothers. And in the attempt lost their own lives, but not before taking several dozens of humans with them. “How? How could this happen? Why? We have given you life, a home … you’ve taken my sons.. my will of being ..”. The father of the Gods’ voice now soft and broken. Dolomius looked around one last time, as terror and hopelessness took a hold of the mighty God’s mind. All he could see was death. He was their leader, he had to do something. But the only thing the King of the Gods could think of; was to be with his sons.  Gods were falling out of the sky by the hundreds, humanity was jeering. Fallen Gods were immediately swarmed by dozens of humans. Stabbed and pulled apart. Death screams filled the air. “What have we done…”, Reoscilla screamed. “...what have we created..”, the wounded Goddess stood amid the battlefield, “w..w..we have to leave, we must leave”, and some did. She watched groups of God-kin band together. Backs-to-backs, using what little magic they had left. Fighting off hordes of violent, bloodthirsty humans. Dozens would escape, while a select few would stay behind to sacrifice themselves. But not Dolomius. The Father of the Gods, her King, was being torn to pieces as he sat to mourn his fallen sons. Too heartbroken to even put up a struggle, and not even a single scream of pain. Only tears for the sons he lost. The last image Reoscilla would ever see. The Goddess of Visions' innocence ravaged by hordes of violent bloodthirsty men. Until her dying breath.  

K.L. Runaya
5 1

Yes, Mama

Yes, Mama   “We interrupt this music program for an emergency broadcast. It is Friday September 23rd 1853. The United States of America has just bombed Moskou. Our Tsar, Alexander II Nikolajevitsj, has died. America demands our surrender. The Empire will strike back. Field Marshal Dmitry Alekseyevich Milyutin has declared war on the Americans. The creation of flying steamships is successful. The Empire will launch its counterattack. Enemies of the Empire beware”. “Pavlov, turn off the radio.” It still scared her. A box that made the sound of many men, it could even sing. The Empire had experimented a very long time with steam engines. Who could have thought they would think of this? But it was nothing compared to the majestic golden flying ships. The Golden Eagles. Marishka had once worked for The Empire, she knew many things. Such as the scientist behind all of this magnificence, Dr. Kazimir Wanya Jeremiya. He had invented a magnificent steam engine that could operate almost anything. The Empire was prouder and stronger than ever. But American spies had stolen his plans, they attacked with the technology they had stolen and killed the great Tsar. The Empire was furious. All Russians were furious. And all Marishka wanted was to be left out of all this. But unfortunately she knew too much and was the victim of many assassination attempts. Dr. Kazimir and Field Marshal Milyutin had ordered her protection. She was, after all, an important part of the scientific team of the Empire. “Come, Pavlov.” It was time to move, again. She had just finished repairing her guard's mechanical arm. She still could not believe how fast they had advanced with the help of Dr. Kazimir, or as he had been nicknamed, Dr. Steam. Marishka had often thought their work went against God's wishes, but she could not stop a warring race to wage war all on her own.  “Yes, mama.” Pavlov said obediently. He was young, only nine winters old. But he was very mature for his age, not to mention that his intelligence far outreached that of many adults, if not most. Marishka had often feared he would follow in her footsteps. She hoped he would be smarter than she was and run away. Though she knew this to be a fairy tail and nothing more. But then again, ‘we now have flying ships and talking boxes’, she thought. So, you never know. “We are to leave at once.” Nikolaj, their last surviving guard, grunted in his raspy voice. He was part of a special unit and was known only by Nikolaj. No past, no future. Only his duty. And his duty had already cost him both of his arms trying to protect Marishka and her son. He was rewarded with two new arms, mechanical steam arms that would shoot bullets and hide knives. Marishka had made them after she had received the blueprints from Dr. Steam. He was more dangerous than ever. Théy were more dangerous than ever.  “I said ‘at once’”, Nikolaj grunted again. Marishka knew better than to keep him waiting.  “Come, Pavlov”, she called out to her son again, reaching for his hand.  “Yes, mama”, the boy answered, happily as his fingers locked with his mother's.  They left the empty house they had taken behind, as empty as it had been when they found it. As all of the houses were around these parts. That is what war does. People run. People cower in fear. People die. And the leaders, they sit safe in their ivory towers and flying ships. Marishka had grown weary of war and death. She had enough of the colors red and black. Blood and ashes. All she wanted was for this war to end, for Pavlov to live as a child. To be free. But she knew better. The only way they would ever leave The Empire was without a heartbeat. And that is something she could not do to her son, though she often doubted if this was the right choice. Running from assassins in a warzone. Was this so much more responsible than to kill herself and her dear son? She asked herself this question every day, and every day Pavlov would smile up at her and she would think ‘yes, so long as he is alive. So long as he is with me’. They ran over burned corpses. Men, women, even children and their pets. All burned to ashes because their leaders had decided that they did not agree with one another. Because their leaders decided that war was the best course of action, the best solution. They died because their leaders were too afraid to die for their own beliefs.  “The United States of America has just bombed Moskou. Our Tsar, Alexander II Nikolajevitsj, has died”.  The radio broadcast popped in her head again. Marishka sighed, thinking; ‘I doubt he chose to die for his convictions. He died as all his people died. Why should I avenge a person like that?’ She felt her temper rise up, released Pavlov's hand to make a fist, and as soon as she did, Pavlov grabbed hold again and Marishka unclenched. “Thank you, my sweet Pavlov”, she said with the softest voice.  “Yes, mama.” he would answer, like a good boy.  “We are almost there. The steamship will pick us up near those mountains”, Nikolaj yelled out, several steps ahead of Marishka and her boy. There was no need to be quiet in this desolate place. No enemies to hide from. All were dust and ash.  “How far by foot?” she asked, screaming louder than she had intended, while tasting the ashes in the back of her throat.  “Twelve hours at most”, he yelled back. “But we must hurry. I heard gunshots”.  Nikolaj had just finished his sentence when a whistling sound came from above. “GET DOWN!” he screamed, his eyes widened. Marishka panicked but Pavlov grabbed her hand again, snapping her back to reality. She grabbed her son with both arms and hid next to a big rock. Nikolaj came running towards them and with a final jump he landed on top of them when a massive explosion went off not far from them. Dust everywhere, the smell of burned wood filled the air. Nikolaj moaned, a piece of a tree had hit him in the gut. Luckily for him he was already half machine.  “Your oil is leaking”, Marishka said, dryly. Surprising herself with her calmness. “We must burn the hole shut .. now! Quickly!”, Marishka urged her guardian when she noticed his stubbornness by trying to hide the wound.  “Just a scratch”, he winced.  Marishka ignored Nikolaj’ ego and instead noticed the pistol on his belt. “Remove the gunpowder from your bullets. We must melt the metal, fast”.  The stubborn man pushed her arm away, “We must find shelter .. first. Cave.. by river.. down .. fast”, he said, breathing heavily, and pointing over the rocky cliff they had used as shelter for the explosion. Marishka knew better now than to argue with this ‘pig-headed fool’, she thought as she grabbed the guard, supporting him. Pavlov took his mother’s hand and together they jumped over the cliff and into the still water down below. As soon as they hit the water Nikolaj grabbed both mother and son by the ankles and dragged them down to the bottom of the river before they could gasp for air. Marishka kicked at his head but missed, ‘I'm going to die like this?’, she thought, clawing for air. ‘Pavlov..’, Small fingers forked with hers, ‘Pavlov!’. Her son pointed down. When Marishka looked she saw Nikolaj gesturing to an underwater cave. She gave up the struggle and let the man drag her down as she lost consciousness. Marishka woke up to the sounds of streaming water. “Pavlov..?”. Her head was still groggy. “Yes, mama?”, the boy answered, hudling next to his mother. He looked tired, he must've sat with her this whole time. “Go to sleep, my boy. Rest up”. “Yes, ma..”. “No, time. Must leave. Now”, Nikolaj grunted under the pain of his wound. She didn't see him at first, sitting in the dark. He was sitting in a puddle of oil. “We must .. Goddamnit. Fix me. Then we leave”. He threw empty bullet shells her way, “Melt. Fix”, he grunted one last time before he stopped moving. “Nikolaj?”. Marishka tried to get up, a fierce piercing pain in her head. She looked at her vest where her head had laid until a few seconds ago. No blood, good. She thought. She lifted her arms, they were both sore, but she could move. She stood up, “Rest a little while mama fixes this sourpuss”, she told Pavlov. “Yes, mama”, the boy answered as he laid down his head and fell asleep in seconds.  “Nikolaj, are you still with us?”. No answer came. She started to worry, what would they do without his help? “Nikolaj?”. She said, while moving closer. “Nikolaj?” She shook him, he gave a grunt. “Oh thank God, you're alive.” Quickly she picked up all the empty shells, grabbed a pot from her backpack and made a fire. The shells didn't need to melt, all they needed to do was loosen up so she could reshape them. The mechanical parts for soldiers were designed in such a way that they could be fixed with bullet shells or even the metal from guns. It was an unclean fix and not a lasting one, but it was all a soldier had in a moment of crisis. And it was all they had now. It took her a long time, it seemed like hours, half a day even. She did not dare tell Nikolaj how long it took when he woke up.  “We must go”, were his first words upon awakening.  ‘Predictable fool’, Marishka thought. “You must rest”, she told the stubborn guard.  “No. They will find us here. We must go” He repeated pigheadedly. “Give me my backpack, I have spare oil with me”. Marishka threw Nikolaj his backpack while waking up Pavlov. She always loved it when he would open his eyes, still sleepy. He woke up wide awake this time. She felt a kind of sadness. “I can change your mechanics so you don't have to use oil anymore”. She said, gazing into the distance. “I like the smell. Makes me feel like home”. Nikolaj answered, somewhat absent as well. “That's the first time you've told me something personal”, Marishka smiled. “I might die soon”, he replied in a serious tone, with a grin added seconds later. “We must really ..”. “Go. Yes, I know”, Marishka brushed the dirt from her son’s clothes and gave him a raw potato, she threw one at Nikolaj and took one for herself. “I'm sorry they're not cooked, I forgot I had them”. “It's okay”, Nikolaj replied, “It is not my first raw potato. Do not worry about it”, he said stoically.  “Are you enjoying your pota..?”, Marishka wanted to ask her son, when she noticed the boy had empty hands. “Did you already finish, darling?”, she asked, a little shocked.  “Yes, mama”, the boy replied.  “Are you still hungry?”, she asked, glancing at her own potato.  “Yes, mama”, the boy answered again.  Marishka took two small bites from her raw potato and then handed it over to Pavlov. “Eat up, my love”, she said motherly.  “Yes, mama”, the boy repeated . Soon after, they left the cave. Climbing up into a different part of the underground burrow. There they would walk for almost a whole day, and then crawl for several more. Marishka feared they would never see daylight again when suddenly she could hear the wind whistling, and there it was, only two corners further and a ten minute crawl. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed, daylight, finally. It was glorious.  “Nikolaj, light!”, she yelled. He did not answer, she did not expect him to. Pavlov crawled out of the cave first, followed by his mother and then their stern guard. As soon as they were outside the smell of burned wood and corpses filled their noses again. Daylight was nowhere to be found, only clouds of ash, gray and black, with the occasional dust cloud turning into a dust twister. She was reminded quickly where they were, what they were up against, and what they were attempting to escape from. She felt odd when she longed to be back inside of the cave, but quickly shrugged the feeling off. “Daylight”, Nikolaj scoffed. “Happy now? Let's go”, he grunted. Days went by, weeks, a month. They moved from town to town. Foraging for food, oil and any parts they could use. They still hadn't reached their destination. Nikolaj seemed more unsure every passing day, Pavlov seemed stronger and more alive than ever. Marishka had grown thin and aged quite a bit. This way of life did not agree with her. She was used to pretty things, to be spoiled and rich and free. She thought of her childhood quite frequently now.  “There it is!”, Nikolaj shouted excitedly, which surprised Mariska. “There it is, it really is!”, he repeated, his eyes suddenly refilled with energy and courage. “Wait!”, he then said, his voice an octave lower. “There is something wrong”.  Marishka looked at their meeting place from the cliff they were standing on. It seemed like any other army base, it was supposed to be completely abandoned, and it was.  “What is it?” She asked, not seeing the problem. The base was there, no vehicles except the Golden Eagle they were supposed to meet up with a month ago. She restepped her thoughts, ‘except the Golden Eagle we were supposed to meet a month ago..’. Then realisation hit her clear as the dead land they were standing on. “The ship, it's still here”, she said.  “Yes”, Nikolaj answered, “They would never wait this long. Something is wrong. I was sure we would have to call in for a new ship, in fact, I was counting on it. This .. something is not right here”. His eyes had gone back to that of a beat dog. “Nikolaj?”, Marishka asked, anxiously. The soldier did not answer, he grabbed his binoculars and stared for minutes at the base. Finally he put down the binoculars and sighed, “Let's go”, he said. They went down the hill, through a small forest and quickly arrived at the base. There was a cold chill here. Marishka grabbed Pavlov's hands, they were cold as ice. She rubbed them in hers and blew on them.  “What are you doing, mama?”, the boy asked. “I'm making you warm, silly”, she smiled. He looked confused so she stopped, confused as well. Something seemed off. “Something seems off”, she said out loud.  “About your son?”, Nikolaj answered. “Yeah, he is very weird, this one”, the guard said. “Weird!?” Marishka defended her son, loudly.  “I believe this was the first time I’ve heard him say anything other than ‘yes, mama’”. The guard said. “So, yeah. That’s very .. strange”, the soldier said rather bluntly. “I wouldn’t worry about it though. I was a pretty weird..”. “What? No!”, Marishka said, almost angrily. “I’m talking about this place. Why would you even ..”. “Calm down, lady. You were busy with your son, not looking at 'this place'.” He said, air quoting the last two words. “I'm sorry, I..”. “It's okay, let's go”, Nikolaj replied, tired and then picked up the pace, “We must go inside the Golden Eagle, it will be safer” he said, as he started to look around. “Yes, safer, mama”, Pavlov said, joyfully. They speedwalked and then ran towards the Golden Eagle and just as they were close enough to touch it Nikolaj stopped, held up his hand and signaled them to get down. “What's wrong?”, Marishka asked in a whisper, worried.  “Bodies, everywhere. Can't you see them?”. Nikolaj’s eyes were wide, she thought he was losing his mind. “Look!”. He almost yelled, “There and there, and more over there. All .. piled up”. Marishka lifted her head and looked at the place he pointed at last. She noticed a dark spot in the shadows, darker than the rest of the shadow. It looked big and wobbly, she couldn’t make out what it was. Marishka narrowed her eyes to get a better view, and then the true scenery hit her. She noticed a hand sticking out from the shadows, and then she noticed the pile of bodies it was sticking out from. Immediately Marishka shielded Pavlov’s eyes with her left hand, and used her right hand to keep herself from screaming. She did not want to, but her eyes moved back to the pile of bodies in the shadows on their own. Everything was more clear now, as if a light had been turned on just above the disfigured group of bodies. Their heads were cracked open and their eyes missing. Marishka's breath stocked for a second. Fear filled her mind, as Pavlov struggled himself free now that his mother was distracted. “W..What happened here?”, she asked Nikolaj. But Nikolaj did not answer, she wanted to look in his eyes but she could not divert them from the pile of corpses. “Nikolaj?”, she asked. Without looking away. “Nikolaj?”, she asked again.   Then .. a crack, a slurp and a gushing sound. She wanted to shout, but her voice had gone mute, her hands began searching for Pavlov. Her eyes still fixated on the pile of bodies in the shadows. “N..Nikolaj, p..please?”, the young mother begged. But the guard did not answer. More awful slurping sounds came from his position, it sent shivers down Marishka's spine . Her heart began to race, her breathing fastened and her eyes widened. Fear overtook her, “Pavlov! Pavlov!”, she yelled out into the darkness, desperately searching with her hands, her eyes still fixed on the pile of bodies, as if it had hypnotised her. “Yes, mama”, the boy suddenly answered from Nikolaj's position, “I'm right here” He said gleefully, and then he slurped again. Marishka was beyond terrified, her heart nearly jumped out of her throat. For the first time in minutes she was able to move her glance away from the bodies, she had to see her son, her little innocent boy. Marishka turned around and saw Pavlov bend over Nikolaj who laid on the ground. His head cracked open and one eye was missing. Pavlov smashed his finger into Nikolaj's other eye, pulled it out and slurped it in as if it were a spaghetti string with a meatball on the end.  “...No, Pavlov”, Marishka said, shocked. “No..”. “Yes, mama”, the boy answered gleefully.  

K.L. Runaya
8 1

De zeven zegeningen van Draak Morophin (Deeltje 2)

Zeven treden onder de grond Nordaque volgde de slechtgezinde Danz het kantoor uit. De man rook een beetje muf, naar natte stenen en eeuwig vochtige kleren. Tot zijn verbazing verlieten ze De Unief. De hoofdstraat van het dorpje Konquelphous door, richting een vierkant gebouwtje net buiten het dorp. Nordaque had het bouwwerk nooit echt geregistreerd met het idee dat hij er nooit zou komen. Het grensde pal aan de kliffen. Onder hem beukte de zee met een onvermoeibare kracht tegen de rotsen. De wind gierde langs zijn oren. Ze kwam van over de golven, ijskoud en nat en kreeg vrij spel eenmaal ze de kliffen bereikte. Met een hoge snelheid en een onophoudelijk gejank denderde ze door Konquelphous. Nordaque plooide zich een beetje dubbel om overeind te blijven op het smalle pad.  Danz viste een gigantische sleutelbos uit zijn broekzak. Er hingen meer sleutels aan dan dat er deuren waren in heel Konquelphous. Hij nam zijn tijd, ongevoelig voor de wind en de druppels ijskoud zeewater. Danz koos een oud, metalen ding en ramde het in het slot. 'De volgende keer breng je beter een jas mee,' grapte hij. Nordaque keek hem vuil aan. 'Welkom.' Danz boog cynisch. 'Je bent niet de eerste, het is een geliefde straf voor arrogante kereltjes als jezelf. Kom mee.'  Danz trok de deur dicht en sloot daarmee de wereld buiten. De stilte viel abrupt. Nord schudde de druppels uit zijn haar. Het was een bijzonder sobere werkruimte, met één raam met zicht op zee, potdicht uiteraard. Verder stond er een tafel, overdekt met mappen en paperassen. En een klein vrij stukje waar een bord met koude etensresten stond. Hier nuttigde Danz zijn maaltijden en verwerkte hij 'de verslagen', dacht Nordaque moedeloos. Danz plukte een sleutel van een nagel naast een deur. 'Kom mee,' gromde hij. Nord volgde hem een trap af, slechts zeven treden maar hij stond in een andere wereld. Zonder daglicht. De trap mondde uit in een gang, van nauwelijks tien meter lang. Op het einde, tegen de muur brandde een vuurkorf. Links en rechts in de gang zat een deur. Nord begreep onmiddellijk waar Danz specifieke geur vandaan kwam. Hij sloeg zijn hand voor zijn neus en mond. 'Blijf hier wachten,' blafte Danz, tevreden met zijn rol van baas. Hij trok naar de kast onder de trap en keerde terug met een zwabber, een emmer en een paar dikke, lange handschoenen. Het poetsgerief dropte hij voor Nordaque, als heldere boodschap. De handschoenen trok hij met veel vertoon aan.  Nordaque slikte nerveus. 'Dat zijn cellen,' zei hij met hoorbare weerzin. Er kroop een onplezierig lachje rond Danz lippen en die bleef daar plakken toen hij op de linkerdeur trommelde. 'Lortarson, ga op je plek staan, je krijgt bezoek!' bulderde Danz. Hij telde luidop tot vijf. Nordaque ademde scherp in. De deur zwiepte open. Danz marcheerde de cel in, greep de enige bewoner nogal ruw bij de schouders en klikte met een geroutineerd gebaar twee metalen ringen rond zijn polsen, die hij vervolgens met een ketting verbond aan een metalen ring in de muur. 'Zitten,' blafte hij. De gevangene negeerde hem compleet en nam Nordaque nieuwsgierig op. 'Lortarson, ik vraag het geen twee keer, zitten!' brulde Danz, recht in het gezicht van de jongeman. 'Geen van beide keren was echt een vraag, Danz,' antwoordde hij vrolijk. 'Wie is dat?' 'Dit is...' 'Hunister, Nordaque Hunister, oud genoeg om zichzelf voor te stellen.' Nordaque oogstte daarmee een vaag lachje bij de gevangene. Hij kon onmogelijk ouder zijn dan Nordaque zelf. Hij sloeg hem met verstomming gade, waardoor de ander nog breder grijnsde.  'Jouw nieuwe gezelschapsdame, Lortarson. En geen grapjes deze keer. Meneer Hunister hier is een gewaardeerd lid van de gemeenschap.' Danz draaide zich op zijn hakken om naar Nordaque. 'Je poetst zijn kamer, twee maal per week. Daarna slaan jullie maar een babbeltje. En Hunister?' 'Ja, meneer.' 'Raak hem nooit of te nimmer aan, hij is....' '… een Wilderen,' zuchtte Nordaque ademloos. Hij kende het ras alleen uit de biologieles en de geschiedenisboeken en vroeg zich af waarom de school zo'n exemplaar vasthield.  'Geboren in het licht van de Everdraak, wilde ik zeggen,' bromde Danz misnoegd nu Nordaque zijn introductie verpestte. 'Huidcontact is gevaarlijk, ik hoop dat je de cursus kent, Hunister.' 'Oh, dat moeten we nog eens zien,' verzuchtte de Wilderen. 'Maar ik ben blij dat je me deze keer iemand bezorgde die wel oplette in de lessen. Hoi, ik heet Lortar Lortarson.' Hij knikte maar, handen schudden zat er niet in.  'Ik kom je over precies drie uur weer halen.' Danz stond al bij de deur.  'Drie uur? Hoe kan ik hier drie uur kuisen?' De kamer telde hoogstens zes vierkante meter. 'Dan slaan jullie maar een babbeltje, zoals ik net zei. Vriendschappen en dingen bijleren stimuleren de groei.' Lortar zond de bewaker een vernietigende blik toe. 'Veel plezier samen, jongens.' Danz verliet bijzonder goedgeluimd de cel. En sloot die af. Er stond één bed, een lage kast met twee deurtjes en twee lades en een werktafel. Daarop lagen dikke boeken, kaarten, schrijfgerief en schriften. De kamer had geen raam. De Wilderen zat in kleermakerszit op de koude grond, met zijn handen achter zijn rug en keek geamuseerd toe hoe Nordaque zijn kamer keurde. Nordaque stond ongemakkelijk op de zwabber te leunen. Hij probeerde vooral niet te staren.  'Jij bent een levend fossiel,' brabbelde hij. Eén wenkbrauw kroop omhoog. 'Wel, jij bent niet bijzonder tactvol,' kwam het vrolijk. 'Maar bedankt, denk ik. Of was dat geen compliment?' Dik blond haar, in lange pieken rond een bleek maar knap gezicht met die ogen als een soort sterren. Ze smeekten bijna om er in te verdwalen. De Wilderen was ongelofelijk mooi, daar stond zijn ras om gekend. Het was één van hun Zegeningen: schoonheid. Nord kende niks van mannelijk schoon maar zelfs hij kon inschatten dat deze jongeman 'iets' had.  'Je staart,' zei de Wilderen monter.  'Ik mag, jij hoort niet eens te bestaan. Wilderen zijn uitgemoord,' herpakte Nord zich betrapt.  'Wauw, dit wordt hier gezellig. Heb je iets tegen veronderstelde uitgestorven rassen, meneer Hunister?' 'Wat?' 'Niks, laat maar. Nog nooit van je leven iets gepoetst?' vroeg de Wilderen met een zachte, melodieuze stem zonder greintje spot. Al deed de grijns op zijn gezicht wat afbreuk aan de bezorgde toon. Nord vond het een bijzonder onaangename ervaring: vloeren dweilen behoorde inderdaad niet tot zijn talenten. Het feit dat de jongen zat toe te kijken en opmerkingen gaf, maakte het niet beter. 'Ik wil gerust ruilen,' stelde hij ten slotte voor, alsof Nordaque de grootste kuisramp ter wereld was. Hij rammelde met zijn boeien. Nord zwabberde nijdig verder, tot groot vermaak van de Wilderen.  'Maak je niet zo boos,' suste de jongeman tenslotte. 'Dit is mijn verzetje, zo twee keer in de week. Ga nu niet pruilen omdat jouw trots zegt dat 'poetsen' niet hoort voor een welopgevoede jongen als jezelf. Dat vond je voorganger ook, hij was saai. Ik geniet oprecht van het gezelschap en de afleiding.' Nord stond op hem neer te kijken. Er begon hem iets te dagen.  'Zit je hier altijd alleen?' vroeg hij. 'Ja, toch zo een beetje. De Dapperen houden hun Wilderen graag uit het zicht van de wereld. Er zou al eens een pientere geest vragen kunnen stellen over waarom een jongeman in de lokale cel van Konquelphous zit, alleen omdat hij tot een uitgestorven volk behoort. Wel, volgens uw mening dan.' Nord pikte de hint op en negeerde die vakkundig. De Wilderen kauwde op zijn lip. 'Begrepen, ik kon het maar proberen. Jullie zijn toch ook allemaal zo trouw aan de vlag van De Unief, is het niet. Wel, ja, ik zit hier alleen. Er is Danz maar die volstaat niet als gesprekspartner. Hij spreekt zelden in volzinnen. Daarom sturen ze studenten, al doen de meesten hun mond ook niet open. Kuis je de tafel ook?' Nord voelde er veel voor om de natte zwabber in zijn gezicht te draaien maar maakte een diepe buiging in plaats. 'Natuurlijk, mijn heer.' Hij kreeg een fijn lachje als beloning. Nord slaagde erin de klus te klaren zonder de kamer onder water te zetten, zijn eerste poetsbeurt overleefde Danz' keuring. Danz trok de handschoenen opnieuw aan voordat hij de Wilderen losmaakte. De jongeman wreef misnoegd over zijn polsen.  'Tot zaterdag,' mompelde Nordaque.  'Ja, tot zaterdag, Hunister, Nordaque Hunister. Ik vond het aangenaam.' De Wilderen stond tegen de muur geleund, met zijn handen in zijn zakken en keek Nordaque na.  'Je mag Nord zeggen,' zei hij in een opwelling en hij genoot van de verbijstering in de groene ogen voordat de deur dichtsloeg. Einde, voor hier.  (En daar gaan ze, op zoek naar draak Morophin. Nordaque Hunister en Lortar Lortarson... ik zie het helemaal zitten. Hopelijk beleeft iedereen hier echt evenveel plezier aan het schrijven en verzinnen van zijn/haar/hun teksten en verhalen)

De Donderklif
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tekst

Ik zag het te laat, maar het experiment wekte mijn interesse. En hier is het resultaat.   1. Het strand ... strekt zich eindeloos voor me uit, alsof God de eeuwigheid heeft geschapen uit een druppel water en het zand dat op het strand is uitgestrooid. Het voelt zo zacht aan en schittert zo in het licht dat te veel schittering je een beetje kan doen verdwalen in de duisternis onder je oogleden. Maar gefilterd door de wimpers wordt die vreugde van het moment geboren. De reus verheugt zich. In zijn kinderlijke spel strooit hij het zand uit, kneedt het, ruikt het en proeft het. De kristallen kraken tussen zijn tanden als kleine mesjes. Op de een of andere manier zou het een haaienbeet zijn, van binnen. Het strand wordt gladgestreken, de droomtuin wordt geboren onder de vingers van de reuzenhand. Concentrische cirkels en op de een of andere manier, vanuit de materialisatie van een gedachte, verschijnt die steen die het centrum definieert, het centrum van een abstract idee om een ​​content creator te definiëren. Voorbereid op het kortstondige leven van een vloedgolf. De zon verwarmt het zand en de vingers nemen deze warmte op. Met oneindig genot. Ze worden wakker in een ander leven, opgewonden door het ongeduld van een nieuwe manifestatie.     2. Het is een zomerdag, een gewone dag. En buiten vult het gelach van kinderen de ruimte, kristalhelder. De drang om te verrassen, om te doen, verschijnt. En met een simpele beweging zet ik de zak meel op tafel. Meel vers van de dorpsmolen die ik gisteren kocht. Het ruikt zo lekker en is prima, maar niet genoeg voor het gewenste recept. Ik pak de zeef en zeef het, met ritmische bewegingen. Ik haal mijn vingers er weer doorheen en het is alsof ik de textuur van het deeg en de smaak van de cake voorvoel. Ik doe warm water in de kom, kneed het langzaam, maar stevig en in het begin is het deeg plakkerig. Ik voeg er genoeg meel aan toe om het elastisch en luchtig te maken.Ik laat het rusten. Ik geniet van het moment. Ik kijk uit het raam naar de spelende kinderen... Ik glimlach en denk aan de verrassing in hun ogen wanneer ze proeven wat ik voor ze klaarmaak... Maar de klok gaat en ik word wakker. In mijn droom heb ik de allerlekkerste cake gebakken.        

Manuela
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Tip

De zeven zegeningen van Draak Morophin

De Unief van de Stamboomgerelateerde Dapperen, Kantoor van de Allerhoogste Dappere (Eerste en vooral: Tip van de week zijn, maakt mijn week goed. Ik word daar altijd lichtjes euforisch van. Inclusief hupppeltje op weg naar het werk en zo van die dingen. HARTELIJK BEDANKT voor de ongelofelijk mooie woorden in verband met onderstaand stukje tekst. Het is altijd bijzonder leuk als een verhaaltje over wassmoosen, vuurtorens en Wilderen (of de inleiding ervan) waardering krijgt :) Dus bedankt om ons te laten zweven, daar drinken we een warme choco op!) 'Meneer Hunister, u bezorgt onze school een bijzonder slechte naam.' Nordaque Hunister hoorde al zijn hele leven dat hij intelligent was, briljant zelfs. Al zat daar nu enige verandering in aan te komen. Hij verheugde zich er toch wel een beetje op. Hij stond met keurig neergeslagen ogen voor de werktafel van de Allerhoogste Dappere.  'Ten eerste, jongeman, stop uw hemd in uw broek. U stormt hier binnen alsof u recht uit bed komt. Begrijpt u waar u staat?' 'Ja, meneer.' Nordaque Hunister (Nord voor de vrienden maar hier, in deze school, noemde niemand hem zo en hij miste het.) begon aan de onmogelijke klus om in enkele seconden tijd zijn voorkomen te fatsoeneren. Hij kwam niet uit zijn bed gerold maar uit dat van Hester. Er gleed een vaag glimlachje rond zijn lippen voordat zijn gezicht opnieuw het ondoorgrondelijke masker terugkreeg. Hij temde zijn haar, plooide zijn mouwen keurig over en stopte zijn hemd in zijn broek. Hij knoopte zijn das netjes en overwoog toch om het bovenste knoopje van zijn hemd open te laten, de kraag zat als een strop rond zijn hals.  'Tsss.' De Allerhoogste Dappere klakte bestraffend met zijn tong nog voor Nordaques vingers het knopje bereikten. 'Waag het niet', luidde de boodschap. Hij stond te kijk gezet, vlak voor de werktafel. 'Goed, daarmee zal ik het maar moeten doen. Meneer Hunister, weet u hoeveel er van dit gesprekje afhangt?' 'Ja, meneer.' 'En u vond het niet nodig om een vers hemd aan te trekken, uw schoenen op te blinken, uw haar te kammen en op tijd te komen? U neemt dit niet zo serieus als zou moeten.' Nordaque hield wijselijk zijn mond. Hij hoopte ergens, een heel klein deeltje van hem, om van school geschopt te worden. 'Dit is De Unief. van de Stamboomgerelateerde Dapperen, meneer Hunister. Uw ouders, grootouder en de rest van uw stamboom, liep hier school. Hier begon hun loopbaan en uw familie behoort al jaren tot de top van dit land. Zij bepalen mee en al keur ik de meningen en acties van uw familie niet altijd goed, ze zijn wel doorslaggevend.' De Allerhoogste Dappere vlocht zijn vingers in elkaar bovenop de tafel en toverde een min of meer begripvolle uitdrukking op zijn gezicht, waarmee hij wilde aantonen dat jongemannen in crisis de meest normale gang van zaken was. Nordaque zat niet crisis. Hij hield gewoon niet van school. 'Al eeuwenlang levert deze plek nieuwe koningen, generaals en andere hoogwaardigheidsbekleders af. Dit land draait op onze oudstudenten. Hier studeert het kruim van het kruim, de besten, diegene met een goed verstand. Jongens en meisjes als uzelf krijgen les van professoren van uit iedere hoek van de wereld, zodat ze klaar zijn om de toekomst te bouwen. Wie hier de aula verlaat, heeft een doel. Wat is het uwe, meneer Hunister? Wat wilt u later doen als u groot bent?' De vraag verraste hem. 'Nog niet over nagedacht, meneer.' Eigenlijk wilde hij veearts worden, met een specialisatiejaar in wassmoosen. Niet dat hij het ooit luidop zou zeggen. Zulke lessen zaten hier niet in het lessenrooster. 'Wilt u in de politiek? Schrijver worden? Lesgeven...' 'Ik weet het niet,' herhaalde Nordaque.  'Uw inschrijvingsgeld is groter dan het jaarloon van ons keukenpersoneel, meneer Hunister. Het is een eer om hier te mogen en te kunnen studeren. U slaagde met glans en met verbazende resultaten voor ons toelatingsexamen. Uw gebrek aan inzet en motivatie verbaast mij een beetje. Ik ken uw ouders. Ik weet waar uw wieg stond en waar u heen gaat, al weet u dat zelf nog niet. Maar met zulke cijfers haalt u het einde van het jaar niet, maak ik mezelf duidelijk? U brengt ons in schande met uw gedrag. We zagen al heel veel door de vingers, u bent een veelbelovende student en heel veel ogen zijn op u gericht...' Nordaque knikte gedwee, zoals altijd en luisterde maar met één oor naar de tien minuten durende preek. Daarin uitsluitend lof voor de school, de beroemde studenten en de professoren, natuurlijk. Ieder van hen had zijn wortels in De Stamboom, die wortelde diep in de aarde van één of ander ver afgelegen eiland, Brès genaamd. Zij stamden af van de oorspronkelijke Dapperen, een groep mannen die met gevaar voor eigen leven, een einde maakte aan de heerschappij van de Wilderen. Door dat volk zo goed als helemaal uit te roeien tijdens een bloederige maar korte inval op het eiland Brès. Schedels spleten, botten braken, vrouwen werden kortstondig weduwe alvorens ze weggevoerd werden, de galgen draaien overuren en er volgde een intense jarenlange klopjacht op al wie erin geslaagd was de aanval te ontkomen. Nord had zo zijn twijfels over de dapperheid van die groep maar commentaar op de Stamboombende en hun daden viel niet in goede aarde. Wilderen vormden een gevaar voor de mensheid, het kleinste kind wist dat.  Zijn blik dwaalde rusteloos af. De kamer had meer dan genoeg afleiding te bieden. Met als pronkstuk een grote glazen bak op een massieve, donkere steen. De steen op zich was al een meesterwerk.  Loodzwaar. Met sierlijke taferelen vol draken en veldslagen. De tombe van de Eerste Allerhoogste Dappere. De tombe was er eerst, de eerste steen van de toekomstige school voor beloftevolle jongeren, zo stond er in de brochure van de school. De Unief. vormde zich op bijna organische manier rond het meubelstuk na het tragische overlijden van de Eerste Dappere. De man, pas veertig geworden maar al een rijzende ster in de academische wereld, was niet opgevreten door een draak, zoals Nordaque altijd had gedacht. Hij ruilde het tijdelijke met het eeuwige ook niet in tijdens één van de bloederige veldslagen op het eiland Brès. Nee, hij was van de klif getuimeld na een dronken nachtje stappen in het dorpje Konquelphous. Zo de woeste zee in. Kliffen zijn dodelijk, dat stond op het bordje bij de rand, daar geplaatst door de oplettende burgers van Konquelphous. Waarna zijn volgelingen zijn lijk nog naar boven mochten sleuren. Eerder op die avond had de Eerste Allerhoogste Dappere luid verkondigd dat hij verzot was op de kliffen van Konquelphous en zijn maten interpreteerden die woorden als: 'Daar wil ik ooit begraven worden'. En zo geschiedde.  Dus trokken ze de school maar ter plekke op, zo uit donkere stenen rechtstreeks uit de klif gehakt. Het duurde jaren om het bouwwerk klaar te krijgen. Menig arbeider tuimelde in navolging van hun leider, de dieperik in tijdens de werken. Die kregen geen eervolle tombe en weinigen werden ook maar gezocht maar hun namen stonden keurig in de inkomhal gegrift, als eerbetoon. Maar de school kwam er eindelijk: rotsvast, letterlijk en al eeuwen een baken voor licht en wijsheid en etc... De tombe diende nu als voetstuk voor een glazen bak waarin De Allerhoogste Dappere belachelijk kleine, veelkleurige draakjes hield. Vreemde keuze van huisdier. Nordaque liet de man voor hem rustig de loftrompet afsteken voor zijn naam, faam en bereikte doelen. Hij observeerde de draakjes. Op de werktafel stond een identieke draakje, onder een stolp. Steendood en vastgepind met naaldjes op een bloemetje, om zijn pracht te tonen. Het beest was verwaarloosbaar klein, nauwelijks groot als Nordaques hand, met dank aan de vleugels. De aanblik van de donkere poederogen op de knalrode vleugels bezorgden Nordaque een rilling. Hij voelde zich een beetje bekeken. Door een dood draakje. 'Het zijn Mobeese Jachtdraakjes.' De Allerhoogste Dappere legde zijn gerimpelde, met levervlekken overdekte hand liefkozend over de stolp. 'Zeldzaam. En meedogenloos in hun speurtocht naar Wilderen. Meneer Hunister, een jongeman met uw capaciteiten mag zijn leven niet zomaar vergooien. Dat is bijzonder slecht voor uw toekomst en onze reputatie. U kunt wachten in de gang, u wordt zo dadelijk opgehaald.' Nordaque vluchtte het kantoor uit en plofte op de stoel in de gang, naast de deur. Hij maakte zijn das los, het bovenste knopje van zijn hemd volgde.  'Zo dadelijk' vertaalde zich in anderhalf uur. Op het einde van de gang dook een magere kerel op. Met een ontevreden uitstraling die hem wonderwel paste. Hij marcheerde bijna de gang door, doelbewust richting kantoor en klopte aan zonder Nordaque ook maar aan te kijken, al zat die daar naast de deur. De deur ging open en weer dicht. Nordaque kauwde een tikje bezorgd op zijn onderlip, hij herkende de man van in het dorp grenzend aan De Unief. en zijn aanwezigheid hier beloofde niks goeds. 'Meneer Hunister, komt u maar binnen. Dit is de heer Danz,' stelde de Allerhoogste Dappere hem voor. 'Hij staat in voor uw werkstraf. Vier weken lang zal u iedere dinsdagmiddag en iedere zaterdagmorgen meneer Danz helpen met het uitvoeren van zijn job. Krijg ik een goed verslag op mijn bureau, dan begint u met een schone lei en verwacht ik goede resultaten zoals hoort bij iemand met uw talenten. Ik hoop dat dit even leerrijk voor u zal zijn als de lesblokken.'   (Inleiding van wat hopelijk een goed onderbouwd, logisch magisch getint verhaal zal worden, hahaha)

De Donderklif
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