The Soldier and the Maiden

Now the rain came down blocking my sight and drenching my blood-soaked tunic down to the very fibers. My sword dragged behind me marking the ground in an uneven groove in the ground next to my footsteps and dark red earth. My right hand was holding a deep gash on my shoulder, trying to keep it covered and closed the best it can.
The light from the open shack was my only beacon, leading me from this miserable red rain to people who might help me. But only feet from the door was what I stumbled to as my knees buckled and caved in, throwing me face first into the mud.
The mud splashed into my wound and very quickly the soil around me was turning a deep red. I groped the dirt trying to get to the door, but didn't make it very far before complete darkness enveloped my vision.
Warmth was the first thing I became aware of. The warmth from a flickering flame alighting my cheeks and nose, the warmth of a padded bed under my back, and the warmth from a small hand lying gently upon my forehead.
My eyes tried to ignore my request to open and shook and flattered in mad protest. I heard a gasp and the hand moved from me. I finally won in my eyes and opened the weary pupils to the warm world around me.
The light from a small, white candle stood tall in the dark room not far from my resting head on a bedside table. The roar of the storm outside was pounding on the thicket roof but not getting in.
There was a shift in the shadows beyond my vision and I turned toward it, but the darkness was too thick.
I whispered a ragged word that slipped near silently from my lips and was heard by the angel in the shadows.
Now my eyes began to cut through their fog and I quickly found two wide, almost frighted eyes. They were a reflective blue-gray, like a cloudy day on a beautiful lake, and almost seemed to produce their own light.
"...help..." I tried to say and she must have heard it for she quickly rushed out of the room to return moments later with a wooden cup filled with water and mixed with crushed leaves of some unknown plant. It was tea that she had brought me.
She set down the cup on the table next to the lamp and tended to my head, propping it up and easing me into an upright, sitting position. She tended to me as a mother would her child and let me sip from the cup.
It didn't taste very good to me but I knew it was rude to protest, not that I could.
After the tea was finished the angel put my head back down and began to leave the room. I wanted to cry out for her to stay but the words were lost in my throat.
-~-

The Waring Brothers- A Celestial Battle

There they both stood, on a plain of fire and ice. Lava reached over the tundra and the frost took over the ashes. The brothers stared with hateful eyes, eyes that shined fire and ice in themselves.
The moon stood behind the brother with the deep blue jacket atop a black shirt and pants. The color of the jacket matched the left eye of the man and the frosted blade in the man's right hand. The right eye was a deep red that had a fire burning inside it.
He stood opposite the man in red, who had the sun on his back. This man had a deep red jacket with the same black shirt and pants, the same shade of red as the heated blade in his left hand and the man's left eye. The right eye of this man was a dark blue, the same shade of his brother.
They feuded for control for centuries, the ice and the fire. But neither could subdue the other.
The brothers were drawing for the final battle, ready to win this never ending war.
As one, the two held their blades high and charged, perfectly synchronized. Before the blades hit a powerful light radiated from the collision created the end of existence. The balance of nature was thrown out, and the entire cosmos began to unravel.
How does this end? This battle repeats itself, with each new collision bringing a revival of the battle. This constant cycle is embodied in the creation of life, and the destruction of death. With each explosion life was destroyed then brought back in another form, one different than the last. The fusion of ice and fire brings about new worlds, and with each new world comes a new battle.

The Sewer

Larc scrambled to his feet, which were pruned from the waste water in the village waterways . The smell burned his eyes and the air forced him to cough, but he still pulled himself up after slipping on the slick brick path.
He wasn’t given more than the clothes on his back and a small, candle lantern for this task: he had to clear the blockage by hand up front.
Normally, the waste was carried away quickly down to the man-made river that diluted and cleaned it, but the sewer became backed up recently and Larc was chosen to clear it out.
The tunnel was a cramped square where Larc, as young as he is, had to duck to move quickly. The boy knew he was getting close to the blockage when he realized the water was slowing down and almost still.
He sensed it before he found it in the lanterns light, the mass appeared from the darkness. The curtain of light moved toward the mass with each step Larc took until it opened over a person sitting with their back turned toward the boy.
The lighted showed the back of the person, whom Larc judged as a man, with thin arms, matted hair, and tattered clothes. Larc called out to the man, concerned as to why he was there in the tunnels, which were restricted to the common citizen. The man gave no response, just sat there.
Larc took a step forward and poked the man with his finger to try and wake him. Instead, the man fell backward and revealed his discolored skin, torn up chest cavity, and newly born maggots burrowing into the eye that still stared pleading for life.
Larc jumped back at the discovery then realized the blockage was a mass of human bodies, each with their chests torn open and most of their organs ripped out. Sweat beaded down Larc’s chin, the sight of the bodies made the young boy start to panic. He took a step backward, hitting his head on the ceiling as he felt the walls close in on him.
On the verge of screaming, Larc rushed back the way he came , desperate to get to the surface, to be free of the pleading man’s eye.
He slipped again and again, the feeling of the dead coming after him, though none gave chase.
When the stairs were in sight he discarded the lantern and ran toward them, panic driving him forward. Once out of the sewer, he sprinted to the controller of the sewer and reported what he saw in shallow, exasperated breaths which were followed by the contents of his stomach which had finally caught up with him.

In the Matter of the Ritual...

Dear Leader,
The annual rite of passage is a time-honored tradition, encompassing the very divine authority the people of Drominia hold. The young must learn through example, and create their own future with their most powerful tool; their mind. By changing that fact you endanger the very future of our race!
By eliminating the ritual, you risk the child’s untapped potential lying to waste, forgotten into imagination, and turned into fear.
You and I have been through the ritual, and both of us have become successful in life. You have climbed to our most prestigious position as our leader, and me, taking up the noble role of master scribe. I had hoped that our continuing race would thrive under your rule; I can see now that you held false hope.
Starting out with destroying our children’s imagination? I must say that this a sorrowful error. That is why I am writing to you directly about this travesty.
What would your father think? Or your mother? Do you honestly believe they would approve of this?
My childhood friend, I wish for you to reply to this, there isn’t much time before the time the ritual would have been.
It’s not too late.
Sincerely,
The Master Scribe.

Winston L. Mercy

It started out as a simple community project for school. Didn’t want to do it but my dad made me. I think it was just an excuse to him to keep me out of the house while he “disciplined” my mom for her behavior. He would always tell me it was the alcohol that made it bad, but I know he isn’t always drunk when it happens. The “behavior” he accuses my mom of is actually his own. He would come home with someone, look at me and my mother, and then he would say,
“I’ll be upstairs.”
My mom would stare at them as they went upstairs, then she would cry a bit. Usually she had a bag of frozen peas that she would hide with he got home, then put over whatever was physically hurting her. I know it wasn’t enough to help her true pain.
Back to the story, I was supposed to have a certain number of volunteer hours in order to have a good grade. I didn’t want to do it, but eventually I did by my father’s wish. I decided to work at the local hospital, sit around all day and bring the occasional coffee.
It was actually like that. I brought drinks and snacks when a patient asked me to, and I sat around. I didn’t speak with the patients, just brought what was needed, until one day this old man came in because of some heart troubles.
His name was Winston L. Mercy, a retired military veteran who fought in many wars, and saved many more lives. A local hero.
Anyway, I was wondering the halls on my second day of volunteering and was called to bring another pillow to Mercy’s room. I grabbed one, and went to the man’s room.
He was watching the television, some older show that I don’t know, and he looked at me and said,
“Welcome! Welcome! Come on in, I see you brought a gift! I’m glad someone remembered my birthday!”
I didn’t know what to say, I handed him the pillow, but felt awkward if I were to leave. It was his birthday.
“Sit sit!” He said to me, “I’m going to need someone to finish this cake for me, diabetes, damn thing. But aw well, I still have my youth!” There was no cake.
He was an excited old man, but it didn’t take long for me to realize his mind was going. He told me story after story about his life, and all the challenges he had to overcome. I enjoyed listening to him, it was, for those moments, a way to get out of my own life and life his. All the adventure, all the places he visited, I saw them all in my mind.
I would listen until I was told to leave, but the next day I would be back, even after my hours were filled. Soon, I spoke to him about my life, and my problems. He listened and gave me kind words to help me move on.
“I’ll be your dad if you want to. But your mom has to like me first!”
I laughed at that, but it was true, I wish that that man was my real dad, or at least a grandfather I could go too. But he wasn’t. I knew that.
I visited for a week, and got away from my life for those few hours. Life was finally getting better for me, I thought for once I had someone to rely on. Till the last day I saw the old man.
I went in, got my volunteer sticker, and proceeded to Mercy’s room to wish him good morning. I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped into the hallway. First, his door was closed. He always requested it open except for when it was absolutely necessary. After I entered the room, I noticed next that he had a few more monitors on him then the previous day, and lastly, I saw his face was paler and his breathing was labored.
I went to his side and immediately asked if he was alright. After a few seconds I asked again when I got no response, a bit louder, but still no real reaction. I wanted to touch his shoulder, shake him awake but I knew it wouldn’t help. The room was eerily silent, all except for the steady beeps, from the heart monitor, one of the only thinks keeping me hopeful he was alright.
I took a seat and just waited for a bit. The seconds became minutes, the minutes became an hour, and with every tick of the clock my heart sank lower. The truth was in front of me, hanging over my old friend like a dark cloud.
He was dying, and with each breath he became fainter. I didn’t cry. At the time, I refused to believe it, until finally he began to move. It was a quick twitch of the fingers, barely noticeable; I got up quickly and came closer the dying man.
His eyes flickered a bit, refusing to open without a fight. I whispered,
“Hey there. Feeling ok?”
He continued to fight to open his eyes and eventually they gave in, releasing his aged eyes to the room. I smiled, a true smile, one that broke to a frown at what Mercy said next.
“I’m dying.”
And with that I began to tear. I don’t know why, he didn’t yell, or seem scared. He spoke as if making casual conversation, even trying to through in a smile. I won’t lie, I began to cry. Tear by tear marched down my face and jumped from my chin.
“Why the tears son? Did something happen to you?”
He seemed to be more focused on making sure I was alright more than himself. I cried a bit more then said,
“Mercy… You’re dying.”
The old man looked confused for a minute then said simply,
“So I am aren’t I?”
He looked like he just lost something unimportant or something keep him a few minutes late. I looked at him confused.
“Everyone comes to this point, I’ve known that my entire life. Is that why you’re crying?”
I felt my face scrunch, and my eyes flood with tears. They dropped down onto the sheets, leaving large, damp spots on the blue sheets.
“Oh son, don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. No tears now.”
I put my head down on the bed and cried harder, my sobs echoing in the quiet room.
“Son. I’m going to die, probably in the next few minutes but, I want to thank you. You kept me company the past week. I knew I could wake up the next day and talk with you, like you were my own grandson. I’m sorry about your family; I wish I could help more. The only thing I can tell you is get help. The police can help; it’s not right what your father does. You’re a good kid.”
He spoke slowly and with some labor, but he didn’t stumble or pause. He continued talking to me, comforting me as I wept for him. Finally, when he was done talking he closed his eyes and said,
“Time for me to go son, might want to stand back for the doctors to do their job.”
I looked at him and he smiled. I slumped up and forced my legs to back up. The heart monitor began to change, the steady beeps began to spike and in a matter of seconds, was dead.
I cried out in sorrow, in pain, in loneliness. I was all alone again. My only true friend just died not two feet away. That was that. The doctors came in, and I crumpled in the corner. A nurse ushered me to the waiting room. The entire scene was a blur, a flurry of movement as the nurses and doctors tried to bring the old man back. I knew that was not so, the man was dead.
The death shook me, much fiercer than I thought it would have. It was about three weeks after Winston Mercy passed away that I bought the gun. I got it from a kid in my class whose father was an avid gun collector. It was a small, handheld pistol. It probably only had one bullet now that I think about it.
I don’t remember what I was thinking, why I was doing it. My mind was autopilot, while I silently cried inside. Moving through the happy people, but knowing I went to an angry family… and facing it alone.
It was a rainy night, one that made me think the heavens were weeping for my sorrow. My father had just finished with my mom, and went down to the basement for his beers. I felt this was the last straw. I knew my mother could walk out of it if she tried but she insisted that he didn’t mean it, that my father was just going through a phase, but I knew he was too cruel to be in a phase. I wanted out, to feel the freedom I felt when I had my old friend back.
I sat on my bed, with my feet planted firmly on the carpet, and picked the gun up from under the pillow I housed it under. I had no thoughts, just a yearning for peace.
“Good bye mother.”
I whispered and let a single tear drop from my eye and put the barrel to my head. Time slowed down, I felt the weight of the gun in my hand, the muscles in my arm tightening; I became aware of every sense. Sounds that were far away or soft became loud and blaring, the lights made my eyes squint, and I felt every inch of my skin.
The moment was then, the moment I felt peace again. My hand tightened, my finger began to pull and then… then… I heard it!
“Don’t do it Son!”
I fired.
The bullet went into the wall next to me, leaving a quivering gun that dropped down to the floor. That voice I heard, I’m sure it was Mercy. He came to me to save my life. I began to babble Mercy’s name again and again, crumpling into a frightened heap on the floor.
So, to finish, the neighbors heard the gunshot and called the police. When they arrived they found a drunken man, a beaten woman, and a teenager with a smoking gun crying on the floor of his room.
My mother now is in a battered woman shelter, and my father is behind bars for a while. Myself, I am seeing a councilor now, living with my relatives. This is the first exercise I was told to do: write about why I had the gun and attempted suicide.
Looking back now, I am glad I didn’t do it. My freedom did come from the old man I guess. I thought I was free when he was around, but now I see he gave me a chance to live. His passing gave me the opportunity to live and now each day I thank him.
I wonder how the rest of my life will turn out; I’ll be seeing my mother next week. Maybe she is better now.
As for my father, I have resolved to live my life to repent his own sins. I will be a much better man than he was.
Good bye.

Zelda Fan fiction Story Summaries

This isn't the traditional Fan fiction, with the main characters as the protagonists and the antagonists. This is the untold story of the sages before, during, and after the events that took place in Ocarina of Time. This is a fan fiction an as such some information may be added or altered to make the stories simpler and easier to understand. The Legend of Zelda is not of my creation and is the property of Nintendo and It's creator Shigeru Miamoto. The stories will be up on blogger in the coming days.

SARIA

After her separation from her childhood friend at the beginning of the adventure, Saria had to deal with the comments of the kokiri children, especially Mido. To avoid the talk by the other Kokiri, Saria left for the Lost Woods, her only safe haven. While traveling in the woods, she played her ocarina and drew the attention of a lonely Skull Kid. He followed her to the Sacred Forest Meadow where Saria realized he was there. The two began to talk and played music together. It was after Link appeared in the Sacred Forest Meadow did Skull Kid begin to change. He became more distant, and after Saria spoke with Link about Zora's domain Skull kid tricked Saria into exploring the woods. She is lead around for a while until she looses sight of Skull kid. She finally finds her way to the Sacred Forest Meadow where the skull kid takes her into the temple, trapping her spirit with the Phantom Ganon.

DARUNIA

Ganon's pursuit for the Spiritual Stone of Fire lead him to Death Mountain and it's main inhabitants, the Gorons. After confronting the leader, Darunia, the evil man infested Dodongo's Caven with evil monsters and turned the Dodongos cruel and aggressive. Then, to add insult to injury, blocked the cavern with a large boulder, one the Gorons could not eat. After the young boy Link destroyed the boulder and defeated the King Dodongo, the Gorons became prosperous with the food supply back, the Gorons went back to crafting armor and swords for trade. But the peacefulness was short lived as the ancient dragon Volvagia began to waken and devour and imprison the Goron race. When the dragon finally rested in the Fire Temple, Darunia decided it was the perfect moment to attack, but without the legendary hammer of the ancient Gorons, Darunia was taken by Volagia and his sage soul was captured.

RUTO

Being princess of a powerful and prestigious race comes with certain responsibilities. One of these includes with whom the Zora princess marries. When Ruto falls for the young hero Link, and gives him the Zora's Engagement Ring in the hopes of marriage one day, her father becomes irate and demands that once the Spiritual Stone was no longer needed she will marry a Zora prince. At the call of this the young, stubborn princess leaves out of the secret waterway in Lord Jabu Jabu's spring. She winds up out of Hyrule and in the Great Sea where she meets a group of Zoras who live in the mystical land of Termina. She meets a traveling group of Zora musicians who take the young princes on a tour around the land and finds word of a young boy who defended the world from the following moon. At word of this, Ruto demands to know more about him and finds out he left towards the direction of the Lost Woods. With this knowledge Ruto dives back into the Sea and runs into the great Lord Jabu Jabu who informs her telepathically that Zora's Domain is frozen over by Ganondorf's power. She made it back to Hyrule and found Jabu's words to be true and dove into what was left of Lake Hylia and into the Water Temple. Once inside she meets up with Link and expresses her anger at him leaving her and swims off. Not long later she feels bad and looks for link to apologize but instead spots Shadow Link who leads her into Morpha's chamber and had her soul imprisoned.

IMPA

The story of Impa starts with her gaining the position of the princess' caretaker, which she didn't agree to at first for she was still working on becoming an Elite Sheikah. She was urged to take it by her mentor who told her it was something she needed. When she first began taking care of Zelda, she was upset and did as little as she could for the young girl. Until one day when Impa decided to leave Zelda to train for a while, the young girl wondered into a dangerous situation, and Impa arrived at the last moment. Zelda was so scared she wouldn't calm down inciting a memory of Impa and her mother. Impa began to hum the lullaby she was told at a young age and put the young girl to sleep. Impa stayed as Zelda's caretaker and, at times, mother-figure who was surprised by the girl's magical ability but believed in every word of the coming danger Zelda spoke of. When Ganondorf attacked the castle, Impa took Zelda away to the safety of a small Sheikahan village. That was where Impa kept the princess safe, and, at Zelda's demand, trained her in the way of the Sheikah. Word of Ganondorf's anger spread and Impa became worried the village will be found out. To save Zelda, the two created an outfit for Zelda to wear and to hide as a male Sheikah with the name of Sheik. When she found out the evil being Bongo Bongo escaped from it's confinement in Kakariko Village, she left for the Shadow Temple to seal it back up again. Upon meeting the monster she is easily taken in and her spirit is stolen.

NABOORU

Nabooru was born and lived as a Gerudo thief who lived for the good of the race. She worked as leader for a time until the single male was born to rule the Gerudos. That man was Ganondorf who took over as ruler after Nabooru. He began to rule with an iron fist, seeking power and control, making enemies with each race that came in contact with the Gerudos. Nabooru, concerned about her people, confronted Ganondorf about this but was exiled and sent to the desert. When she heard Ganondorf began to change his ways and begin to ally with the Hylians, Nabooru became suspicious, garnering the feeling that Ganondorf was laying a trap for the land. She found out from her informant that the Gerudo Witches, Kotake and Koume, sided with Ganondorf and were living in the Spirit Temple to aid the evil king. Upon hearing this, Nabooru rushed to the temple to do what she could to stop them. The way was blocked by a heavy block which could only be moved by the legendary Silver gauntlets, which were hidden in the temple. As far as Nabooru could tell, the only other possible path into the temple was a small opening that only a child could crawl through. As luck would have it, that was when Link appeared, the young child Nabooru needed to get to the gauntlets and convinced him to help. Once Link disappeared through the opening, Nabooru decided she was going to try and find another way through, in case the boy died. While investigating she heard the Twin witches entering the Temple. Nabooru hid from them but was found out. When she ran outside to get away the witches ganged up on her and began to pull her into their portal. The last thing she saw before going under was Link appearing up above with the Silver Gauntlets in hand. The next thing she remembered was being released from a trance-like sleep then was again taken and her soul was theirs.

The Thoughts of a Father

She was beautiful.

Once again I found myself staring out this window and wondering: How can I even think to let her out of her own? I once could hold her in my hands and could tap her feet till she giggled in my arms. Now, I can’t hold on with even one hand; she’s gotten too old for that.

She used to ask me about the birds and how the plants lived; how life was so pretty, but now she tells me about her friends and where she is going in her life.

It’s strange to think back on her as a child, all innocent and adorable. Now she has a fiancée and a brand new life she is starting without me.

It makes me proud, I did my job, my child is grown up, living in today, reflecting on the past, and dreaming for the future.

I’m sure her mother fells the same about our darling.

Gone are the days of homework helper, gone are the days of messy finger paintings, and so long to the days when I held her hand when she needed me after a bad dream.

Now I can only watch her mature through her voice and actions.

I’ll still be her father, I’ll still want to know what she is doing and offer her advice but I have no control anymore.

She can take care of herself now.

-~-

Christmas Day

It's Christmas Day.
Do you feel happy? Excited?
No. You feel bad don't you? The presents under the tree? For everyone else.
Are any your's you ask?
Only the feeling of hopelessness and fear that have taken to your heart.
They don't care what you get and no matter what is is, whether you want it or no, you cannot muster the feeling that should be associated with it.
When you grow older, if you grow older, what will you do? Will you cry and plead of happiness?
I certainly hope not.
You write what you feel right?
What do you truly feel?
Before it was fear, sadness, and pure rage.
What is it now? Acceptance? Determination? Or is it the same?
You ton't truly deserve to live and do you know why/
Because you are too different. Most poeple would have killed themselves by now.
Why have you lived? Why do you fight?
Is it for her? Or is it for you future?
Maybe it's to repent for you past sins and present thoughts.
you are changing. Something you are not too ignorant of.
Now my final question.
Will you perish for nothing? Or with a cause?
-~-

Aliens!

There I was. Minding. My. Own business. When the. Saucer. Appeared. Over. The plateau. In front. Of me. It spun. Slowly. In the sky. Like was to land. On that rock.

“Cut!  Cut! What is this? Star Trek? Why are you cutting up your sentences like that?”

I just thought it would make it more…sci-fi-ish.

“Well knock it off! I keep thinking you’re having a seizure or something. Continue.”

Anyway, I witnessed the saucer as it let down a ray of light where two figures dropped down onto the plateau.

“Too few, people won’t feel frightened by just two.”

Ok then, ten alien figures dropped…

“Too few.”

Fine! More than I could count appeared…!

“Whoa! Whoa!... Whoa! ‘Too many to count’? We’re trying to entertain people, not make them scared out of their minds about an alien invasion! We’re not doomsday prophets! How about we stick with just two? Go again.”

-sigh- Ok then, only TWO aliens appeared. I was staring in shock and awe unable to believe my eyes as the first one with its green skin began to hover toward me in a flying machine.

“Green? Really? That’s been done again and again, let’s try a more impressive color like… orange! With black stripes! I like that idea!”

Really? We are being invaded by Tigers? Fine… The orange and black creatures hovered over to me…

“Wait!”

What is it now!

-sheepish- “I was just going to comment on your imagery…”

Pause

“It lacks visual aid.”

-face palm- Visual… Aid… Really… It’s a flippin’ story!

“Stories can have pictures.”

Not when I’m telling the story!

-Indignant- “An artist can paint with words!”

Not literally!

Old Man Mercy

Of all the people living in Sunnymay retirement home Old Man Mercy was probably the most bizarre. He was admitted almost 30 years ago by his family who didn’t want him living on his own.

At that time he was 97 years old, now he was 127.

The workers at the home have regarded him as a rumor and have pretty much stayed away from him, except for the usual checkups and food deliveries.

He was nothing short of a strange old man. He spent every waking moment sitting in his chair staring at the wall.

That’s all he ever did and all he will do, at least when people were around.

For the first five years his room was like everyone else’s, a bed, television, a chair, a table and two end tables each with a lamp. He sat in the chair even then.

Once the sixth year came around things started to change.

It would seem without Mercy’s aid, the lamps vanished of the end table one at a time for the next five years. When one was replaced the other vanished. Mercy just sat in his chair.

The caretakers at the home continually questioned him about it but he never spoke a word to them, just scanned them over with his eyes. Eventually the lamps disappeared and no one replaced them.

The next thing to vanish was the television, just the same as the lamps before had done.

He would answer no questions about the television and eventually the room was void of lamps and a television.

Once the lights were gone (save the overhead light which was much too weak to use often) Mercy himself had apparently moved him and his  chair to face the spot on the wall where the television was and directly under the overhanging light.

The end tabled appeared on either side of him and stood like guard towers ready for anything it seemed.

This all took place over a span of 30 years and he was now rumored by the staff to be some above human creature who should be left alone.

Old Man Mercy, man of a thousand mysteries continued to sit in his chair, his bed as untouched as the day he arrived, his voice a locked away as treasure, looking for something…

Which was about to arrive.

On the first day of the 31^st year, a young man appeared in the retirement home. He was dressed in evening clothes, with a nice black jacket over a white button-up and a grey vest. He had his hair shining with gel to hold it in place and his brown eyes were darkened beyond human eyes.

Mercy gave no notice to the man when the puppet entered the room and took his place at the blank wall facing the old man.

The overhead light began to flicker on and off at that point, casting a longer than usual shadow behind Mercy. In the moment of complete darkness two candles appeared on both sides of Mercy on the end tables.  One on Mercy’s right side was an all black that had a pure white flame atop it and the one on the left was all white with a black flame a lit on it.

Mercy, for the first time, moved his neck and flexed his cramped muscles which had lost their use so long ago.

Mercy finally had a new body to use.

The young man was in front of him stared at Mercy with his glazed eyes and stood with his back against the wall.

The man had lived for 31 years and in that time had committed several horrible acts such as butchering his family and those he saw fit to murder and got away with every single event.

The wall began to breathe inward and pulled the man to it wrapping bits of plaster around the arms and legs of the new vassal.

The man woke up at that time and began to fight the wall but to no avail, all the while screaming at Mercy to help.

The old man raised his frail arms to the candles and chanted a few words over and over using the old vocal cords that had little use in the past. The hoarse chants echoed in the room till the whole ritual was through.

Now the young man was lying in Mercy’s bed with his life slowly draining away screaming at the nurses and doctors who rushed in that he wasn’t dying, he was too young.

In the meantime, Mercy was walking down the street in his new evening clothes and began his new life as a 31 year old man with the world before him.

Announcement of The Life of A Spy...

I have made a new blog for the Blog Story The Life of A Spy that you can find through my profile or by clicking the link:

http://rogercasadenspy.blogspot.com/

I will have Chapter two up soon on that blog so if you enjoyed chapter one then you should definitely follow that blog as the entire book blog will be there in the coming weeks.

That's about it for this announcement,
I would like to thank you for reading this and hope you check out Cairo's life as a spy.

-Roger

The Trill of Battle

Larc understood his place in this battle.
He knew this would happen all his life, though not so quickly.
His father had always told him that one day Larc would be in the war council. What he wasn't told was that he would rise to his position by the age of 16.
As Larc stared out at the rolling grasslands of the battlefield he recited the motto of their army.
To fight for his country, and kill who opposes them.
Each soldier, even Larc who didn't agree with it, understood it and was willing to follow it at any cost.
For some time now they had been at war with the neighboring countries under the flag of "keeping the peace". Larc voted against the use of force but the council ignored him, mostly for his age.
The enemy nations criticized Larc's nation as "oppressive" and as such the King declared war to put down the enemy.
The King assembled a massive army of 10000 soldiers and had them stand to fight this battle.
Larc was on the front line with his commander with the breath of the soldiers heating the air around Larc to a near unbearable degree.
It was time. The enemy army had shown up and now the two forces were ready to engage in the pointless war.
Larc heard the commander's horn and instantly drew his blade and raised his shield.
The battle was starting, and Larc knew that none of them were going to win...

The End of A Battle

The fire blocked out all escape. The fields were screaming and the ground belched smoke all around me.
I covered my eyes and my sword began to burn the palm of my hand.
Suddenly, the fire parted and let the most awe-inspiring moment in my life.
Absolute fear took hold of me as the horse dove through the fire with its shielded head bowed down low first entering the clearing. The horse held the power of a mythical beast as it's hid powerful chest shuddered with the graceful impact of its hooves gently trampled the ground. It sprinted through the inferno under the authority of a magnificent rider.
Wearing dark mail under the king's crest, he rode with one hand on the beast and the other holding man's bloodied paint brush. The rider kept his eyes on me through the slits in his long faced helmet, intent on putting me out of my misery.
Before he was on me I prayed to my god that this wasn't an ordinary man, but a messenger of death come to bring me free of this war and senseless destruction.
The angel now was here and in one swift, passing strike I fell to the heated ground below and experienced pure darkness which I welcomed openly.

A Short Haiku of Her...

Her smile was of sunlight
Her kiss was of a sweet breeze
Her heart was that pure

The Last Leap

The cold wind slapped and grabbed at his cheeks as if warning him.
The boy was scared, no denying it, but he felt it was the only way.
Opposing the calls and cries of the frightened onlookers, he leaned forward and let his body play at the mercy of the wind.
Quickly the bridge above him receded as the water below grew closer.
He was crying, his tears leaving a trail that plundged after him.
He flashed though his memories.
The feelings that drove to commit his final act welled up and time slowed down.
He was alone, a fact he blamed on himself.
How his cries for help fallen on deaf and uncaring ears!
All his life he was searching for someone, anyone...
Who was a friend. But no one came.
His mind took him to his parents divorce and all the isolation he felt without his father.
He remembered watching clasmates and kids palying with their mothers and fathers. An act he never enjoyed.
The air filled his ears and seemed to whisper to him, inciting more memories.
A girl filled his mind.
He saw her as clear as if she was there with him.
He felt he loved her. But was scared that she wouldn't return the affection.
The wind told this, "You don't know that because you never tried tried to find out."
He cried harder, the infinite oceans spilling over his cheeks and ears.
He saw his family and what happy times they gave him.
He saw himself opening presents from a time long ago with friends he once had.
Then it hit him.
What a terrible mistake he had made!
The mind of the wind brushed over him and gave him all the answers.
The girl did like him, he just refused to believe it with the cause of 
He felt anger at his actions. All his pain was self-inflicted.
He realized he never even tried. Not once.
Now it was too late.
The air switched around him signaling the end of the fall.
His last thought was that he had a happy life that he expected too much from.
He hoped that he had helped someone during his life at least once. Even a little.
The petrified spectators watched in horror as the boy's last moments became his calmest ever.
The boy's pain had been healed by his last thoughts...
Not his death.

The Life of a Spy Chapter One

“Once you are chosen, there is no way to be ‘un-chosen’”

“So this is the shell?” I asked eyeing my clone suspiciously. It was a very good copy with the hair parted the same way his is naturally, the nose and mouth shaped the same but there was no real light in the eyes.

“Yes, it is. The plan is that this will enter your home tonight and make itself known to your family as you. At a predetermined time int he night this clone will unexpected "pass away" making your family believing it to be you.” The man said almost in admiration.

I nodded. “Then I can undergo the training?”

The man nodded and chuckled replying, “You almost sound eager. Many fear the training years. We aren’t bound by more ‘common’ laws'.”

“Why would I fear it, it’s not like my life was anything to miss.”

“We’ll see…” The man said as he walked away. Before he left the room he whispered something to the guard at the door. The guard nodded and the man left.

So the plan was in motion.

The following morning the clone passed away and caused my parents to do exactly what was expected of them. After discovering the clone's demise they contacted medical attention and before long would be on their way to hospital.

There was a fake doctor in position that would give them the news about what had happened and that there was nothing they could do to save me.

I smiled and giggled a bit from across the street hidden by my old neighbor’s bushes, then I cursed myself for acting so childish, but I could not help it. I entertained the thought of this being a practical joke that a normal child would come up with. I would pop out of nowhere and yell surprise! and we would have a good laugh.

I knew all too well that this was not a game or a trick.

The ambulance left soon after and I knew my parents were gone as well, probably one was with my body and the other racing for my siblings.

I sprinted across the street and climbed the few stones steps up to the door and entered my old home, one that once welcomed me in with open arms.

Now I felt like a stranger intruding in someone else’s home.

I crept up the stairs, past the framed eyes and painted smiles, ones that watched me as I ascended up those steps I had so many memories of.

Once at the top I took a peek into the rooms, taking my last good looks at them.

My parents room, my brother’s, my sister’s they were all the same.

But the air was becoming heavier and more suffocating. I felt as if I would panic if I stayed in this house too much longer.

I now turned to my door, the one at the end of the endless hallway.

The carpet slid under my shoes as if unwilling to let me progress to my old room, until I gripped the biting knob of my door and entered the dark room, smaller than I remember.

I had a reason to be there, and I was not going to let my growing panic keep me from achieving it.

Sitting on my bed was a briefcase and inside that briefcase I knew housed the reason I came. My journals from the moment I could write were inside of it, and I could not leave that behind.


-~-