Zoeken

The Symphony of Life and Death: Trio prologue 'The War of Disobedience'

This is a first draft The War of Disobedience   Dolomius, Father of the Gods, had just fallen. Ripped apart by humans, stronger and wilder than they’d ever been.  “We must retreat, father”, Alponi begged the great Avandair. First brother to Dolomius, and in all rights and purposes, now King of the Gods, and Father of the Gods. “Too many are falling, too many have lost their connection to their domain. Something else is here, on the planet, it’s consuming not only our source of strength, but our magic as well”, the young God of the Mountains said.  “Where is Leorr?”, Avandair asked. “Where is your brother?”.  “The Silent Commander foresaw the attack. He warned us all, in the back. It’s thanks to him that we’ve survived, Lord Father”, Grivali, son of Creaturia said. “He left to the White City, taking the twins with him”. “I am not your Lord Father”, Avandair said.  “I’m terribly sorry, my King. But in this very moment, with all those who have fallen, you are our King, brother”, Brinse, Goddess of Winter, said.  “I .. I’ve no interest in being King”, Avandair said. “I .. have other plans, other goals..”.  “And now you must stand for us all, and lead us, brother”, Calavis, Goddess of the Fall, said. “They’ve noticed us, an army is coming this way”, Yorkal, God of Summer, shouted, from atop a tree.  “How many?”, Brinse shouted back.  “At least five thousand, possibly even more than that”, Yorkal, son of Creaturia, looked around, for signs of other life, other groups of Gods still standing and fighting. “Over there!”, he shouted. “Treebandum and Creaturia are ploughing their way through the human defences to rescue .. I think that’s Sealvy, and a few others as well”, Yorkal shouted.  “You all make your way to Treebandum and Creaturia”, Avandair told his fellow survivors. “I will hold the enemy here off for as long as I can”.  “No, you can not”, Brinse said. “Do not worry for me, sister”, Avandair said. “Now that Dolomius and his sons have all fallen, I have full control over my domain and my lightning”, the God of Truth said. “If I am to fall, I shall take them all with me”, he picked up a shield and sword from a fallen enemy and took two steps forward before stopping and turning back around to his sons, sisters and nephews; “Be safe, all of you”, he told them. That was the last anyone would ever see of Avandair, first brother to Dolomius and the God of Truth. A last stand that would earn him a status as a legendary hero, never to be forgotten, even thousands of years later.  “Quickly now”, Alponi urged on his aunts. “We can not let my father’s sacrifice be in vain. We must survive, we must honour him!”.  “I’ve lost track of my father and Treebandum”, Grivali shouted.  “I see survivors on the ledge, over there”, Calavis yelled. She pointed at a single rock in the middle of a field of raging humans. There was no path to reach the top, and the surface was too smooth to climb. The humans were stuck shouting angrily at them and trying to hit them using arrows, and other ballistic weaponry. “How the hell did they get up there?”.  “Treebandum must’ve placed them there, and the rock”, Alponi replied.  “And how do we get there?”, Brinse asked. “I’ve drained every ounce of magic I have left, I need to rest, I need to return to recharge..”, she looked at her sisters and nephews; “..and it looks like I’m not the only one”.  “Can anyone still use enough to fly?”, Grivali asked, but none answered.  “Maybe we should look for a different place to be rescued?”, Calavis asked.  “Where would we go?”, Alponi asked. “Look around”, he gestured at the battlefield, of which they now had a clear vision. “There are humans as far as the eye can see. The lights of the Gods are dying, one by one. Stormed by too many at once, too many for any single God to handle.  “But some are still fighting, for us, so we can survive”, Brinse said defensively. “Look at them, we can not give up and let their sacrifices be in vain.  The battlefield covered nearly thirty percent of the continent. What were once thousands of lights emanating from Gods, were now only hundreds, as more fell every few minutes. As if swallowed by a sea of black.  “Someone has control over this battlefield”, Yorkal, who had been quietly observing the fighting, finally spoke up. “We may have lost our immortality, and our connection to our magic may be weakened. But it is not normal for these humans to put up such a fight”.  “What do you mean?”, Grivali asked his younger brother.  “Look at them”, he gestured at the battlefield. “They are all clad in a dark armor, almost as black as the night itself. Their eyes are shimmering with a red colour, and they are ripping Gods to shreds with their bear hands, they’re unnaturally strong”.  “You’re saying someone is giving them strength and working against us?”, Alponi asked.  “But that would mean that someone wants to end God-kind”, Brinse said.  “Worse than that”, Calavis said. “It means that there’s a traitor among the Gods”.  “No”, Yorkal said. “It could be worse still .. When we left this planet, it was still rich in magic. What if .. what if humanity created their own Gods”.  “That’s ridiculous, humans can not create Gods”, Alponi laughed.  “Then how would you explain the disappearance of nearly all magic in the land, Alponi?”, Yorkal asked. “Do the mountains still whisper to you?”, he asked. “.. Yes, but there words are not as clear as they are in normal circumstance. Like a dying voice, begging to be saved, or released from its suffering ..”, Alponi said, his eyes looking sadly at his own hands, and then the mountains in the distance.  “Do any of you still hear the whispers of your domain and those that inhabit it?”, Yorkal asked. “Because I no longer do”, the God of Summer said. “Who else could do such a thing, but a God?”, he said.  “That does not necessarily mean that humanity created their own deities, brother”, Grivali said. “It could still be ..”.  “A traitor?”, Yorkal asked. “Does that sound more logical to you? That one of our own kin would betray us, and destroy us? That one of us would use darkness in .. such a way?”, he gestured again to the battlefield. “Who of us controls the dark?”, he asked.  “.. no one, right?”, Grivali asked the other, who all nodded.  “Exactly!”, Yorkal said, smacking his right fist on his left hand. “Which means something, or someone, was created that controls the dark, which means someone created thèm”, he paced back and forth. “None of the God-kin would ever create such a thing, which leaves humanity. Just look at how vile they are, how vengeful, evil, and murderous. They are like hungry wild beasts, strengthened even further by the darkness the clad as armour”.  “I .. I’m still not convinced”, Alponi said, quietly.  “I see Sealvy!”, Brinse shouted. “She has spotted us!”.  “Treebandum is coming from this way”, Calavis said.  “And I see Creaturia, he has seen us as well, we’re saved!”, Grivali cheered. “Is this all that is left of us?”, Treebandum asked, his normally serene tone had taken on a sad tune.  “Avandair .. he held the humans back so we could escape”, Brinse told her older brother.  “Perhaps we can still save him, if we’re fast”, Creaturia suggested.  “No”, Treebandum said. “He knew what he was doing, and how little time we have left to save others .. they all knew..”.  “It’s just like the others”, Sealvy said.  “The others?”, Calavis asked. “What others, sister?”.  “We’ve found several groups, on the run. Our kin, deprived of their magic, drained like dried meat”, Creaturia said. “They were all saved by those who still had their magic, holding off more than they could handle, let alone count.. We’ve lost many today”. “But we’ve saved many as well”, Treebandum said, serenely. “And now we have saved the last of our kin”.  “You can’t just give up on the others”, Alponi shouted. “You can’t just give up on my father”.  “We’re not giving up, nephew”, Sealvy said. “We too must recharge, we need to return to The White City, with the last of the survivors, once we are there, we can discuss what to do next”, she said.  “It is time we left this place”, Treebandum said. “It seems we’ve been spotted”. The God of Roots grew a flower from his hand, whispered to it in a language older than any, the language of the First Seed, created by Thime. Small glowing orbs fell from the flower and began to float towards the top of the rock on which the other survivors had been secured. “Everyone grab an orb”, Treebandum said, and as soon as they did, they were transported instantly to the top of the rock. Soon after, Treebandum opened the path towards The White City. It was such a spectacle to behold that the fighting had stopped, distracting nearly every human around, who were witnessing something they never before seen in their lives, giving the remaining Gods, who would later be named The Grounded Gods, time to escape. The War of Disobedience came to an end, leaving humanity victorious and hungry for more. Soon after, their War on Magic began; which birthed The Hunt. In which forces were specifically trained to sense, spot and kill God-kin. These powers they gained by drinking the blood of the Gods, and eating their flesh during their initiation. The Hunters would become addicted to God blood and flesh, and when deprived of it long enough, would lose all sense of reality and turn into wild vicious beasts. These beasts were highly sensitive to light, but thrived in the dark. They learned to feed on the dark, and the light of the moon. Eventually, they would transform even further, become even more monstrous. Cursed to live forever, they would later become known as Shadow Beasts. Hunters would use these beasts to sniff our magic and God-kin with even greater precision. It was only thanks to the sacrifices of both Treebandum and Creaturia that not all magic and Grounded Gods were erased from existence. However, their sacrifice came too late to save magic on Earth, leaving the planet with nothing. Eara lost her life, turning Earth into just a normal planet, and no longer a celestial body. The Tree of Thime was destroyed as well, but Thime herself had successfully escaped. Only The Free have ever seen Thime in her new form. Many truths will now unfold, new and old.  

K.L. Runaya
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The Symphony of Life and Death Andante Prologue 'Creeping Madness and Magical Solutions'

This is a first draft Creeping Madness and Magical Solutions  Unknown Time; Unknown location; “You might be wondering where I’ve been all this time. Well, I’ve been looking for you. Guided by a feeling that I would see you again”, a young boy, sitting in the dark, was talking to himself. “What happened to me, you ask? Well, I lost everyone. Literally, I woke up in a different world, I think. I call it ‘The Dark Realm’, because it’s always dark here”, the boy looked around the darkness and sighed. “There are no people, not even a single sign of life. I’ve been here for, I don’t know how long, but it seems like forever. Somehow I never get hungry, or cold, or sleepy. I just am. I .. just don’t get it”, he sighed again. “One day though, just as I was about to lose my mind completely, I started to get visions. Visions of you! They told me where you were, what you were doing. I saw that you were also lost in a different world. It looked prettier than where I am .. more colorful as well”, the boy made a wry smile. “You looked happy too. For a minute there it made me angry, because I thought you’d forgotten about me and moved on with your life, while I’ve been trying to find a way back ever since I got to this dreary place”, he held his head in both his hands. “But as soon as I felt the anger, I felt an even greater feeling of guilt. I struggled with it .. hard. But .. that doesn’t matter, I’ve finally found you, and I’ve finally come for you. I’m just sorry that it took me this long, Brail..”, the young boy talking to himself was Kiya, “No, that’s no good. That’s way too long.”, he told himself. We need to change it, maybe .. make it more happy?”, the teen shrugged. “What? No, it’s not”, Reason answered. “It’s perfect just the way it is, it’s who we are”. “How is that who we are?”, Anger asked.  “..if you think you can do better, go ahead, do it, come on”, Reason responded, “Well? What’re you waiting for?”. Peace sighed, “Guys, can’t we all just get along, even if it’s just for a minute?”. “You know, I’ve been meaning to say this for quite a long time”, Kiya said confidently. “But this shit is getting pretty aggravating and seriously insane, to be honest”, Kiya said. “It’s bad enough already that we’re stuck in this .. Dark Realm, I don’t need to lose my shit too. Talking to my own emotions, what the actual fuck.”. “Weirdo”, Pleasure jested.  “Now”, he continued as he ignored his own insults directed at himself, “How do we get out of this place? It’s definitely been years because I’m growing hair on my face and balls now..”, Kiya thought for a moment, “Hmm, maybe that’s why I’m going crazy”, he shrugged. “No. It’s not”, an unfamiliar voice answered. “Who said that?”, Kiya asked, startled. “I did”, the voice replied back, rather simply, as if they were shrugging. “Who are you?”, Kiya asked.  “In a way, I am you”, the voice replied.  “Great, another voice in my head? And what emotion do you represent then?”, Kiya asked, annoyed.  “I am not a mere voice in your head, young Kiya”, the voice said, amused. “I am what came before you, I am what comes after you, and at the same time, I am always you, anywhere, any time, any place, any persona”. “What? What does that even mean?”, Kiya asked, irritatingly confused. “Again, who are you? Wait, did you.. did you bring me here?”. “I did”, the voice answered amused. “Okay, before I wrap my head around that, what the actual fuck? Why would you do something like that, and why'd you let me sit here by myself for so long?”. “I .. forgot. I do apologize”, the voice replied.  “You forgot?”, Kiya said angrily. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? How long have I even been in here?”. “Time does not flow in here”, the voice said. “This is the Dream Realm”.  “That .. that doesn’t answer my question”, Kiya answered, fearing he may have been here so long, everyone he knew may have died already. “It only raises more questions”, the boy said.  “In a way, you could say that you have been here several lifetimes already”, the voice said, calmly.  “Several .. several lifetimes!?”, Kiya asked. Shouted it, almost; and then he began feeling drowsy.  “But in your world, at most a few years”, the voice chuckled. “If I had to make a guess, I would say it has been about two years, maybe a little more, maybe a little less. But, give or take, around two years”.  “Then fucking lead with that next time”, Kiya said, his face turning red.  The voice did not reply to this. “Why did you bring me here?”, Kiya asked, after a few seconds of silence. “Are you still there? Hello?”. “I am here still”, the voice said, calmly. “You have been brought here to fulfill your purpose, your destiny. To train for what is to come”. “I’m sorry, what?”, Kiya asked, his voice an octave lower.  “You have a great destiny, young Kiya”, the voice said. “You, and two others, are part of a great prophecy. You will bring a change to this universe, one unseen by all”.  “Ok, slow down there, buddy. What!?”, with every word said to him, Kiya only felt more and more confused. “Am I being pranked? Wait, is this a dream? Did I die, is that it? I’m dead, aren’t I?”. “You are me, and I am you. We are one, and we always have been. You have merely forgotten, and I am here to remind you of who you truly are. I have brought you back to our Kingdom, so that you may take the throne once again”, the voice replied.  “Okay, what the actual fuck?”, Kiya shouted out.  

K.L. Runaya
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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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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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