jeroro456

[jeroro456]

Cliffside trouble and a rose colored savior Comission for Josysegafan on twitter

Esval yawned, wearily rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t slept well the night before and was paying for it now. It was 7:30 AM and he needed to be at work by 8:00. “Hmm. No time for a shower then, I’ll have to just put on some deodorant quickly.” He hopped out of bed and went to the small kitchen in his apartment, putting two pieces of bread in the toaster before retreating to the bathroom and brushing his teeth and putting on deodorant, vigorously rubbing his armpits with it. When that was done, he pulled out a fancy looking brush and idly ran it over his fur until he heard the toaster finish. He walked over to it and pulled out the bread, quickly spreading some butter over it and jamming it into his mouth. As he was chewing the last bite, he wandered over to his dresser and, after letting his pajamas drop to the floor in a heap, quickly pulled on the first clothes that he saw, his regular underwear, plain black shorts and an orange t-shirt.

At this point, it was already 7:45. It was about a ten minute walk to the store he worked at so he needed to get going now. He grabbed his keys from the hook by the door they hung on and shoved them in his pockets, then opened the door and stepped out, locking it behind him in a smooth motion born of many repetitions. He took a moment to breathe in and admire the rising sun. “It’s a nice day today. If only I didn’t have work today.” He grumbled under his breath the entire walk and was very nearly late because he walked slower than usual, taking in the calm atmosphere of the morning.

It was with a heavy heart that he clocked into work and stood behind the cash register. He looked out through the glass automatic doors he had just come through and sighed. “It’s going to be a long day.”

The day seemed to drag on forever and in between mechanically checking out customers and defusing several tense situations and rude customers, Esval watched the progress of the sun, marking the time until he could leave. Finally, the sun was well past its zenith and the clock read 2:30 so he could clock out. He shut down his register and hastily left, excited to be free for the day. When he was outside, he breathed in deeply and began to wander aimlessly. It was a really nice day. There was a pleasant breeze and it wasn’t too hot or too cool. “Now might be a good time for a hike” he muttered to himself and changed directions, to walk toward the bus stop that would take him to a nearby park that he liked to go to. He passed the time until the bus arrived by watching people walk by him.

After about ten minutes, the bus pulled up. He winced at how loud it was and then slowly stood up and got on, scanning his bus pass apathetically. The bus was mostly empty and so he settled into a window seat near the front. It would take about forty minutes to get to his stop and then twenty more to walk from there to the park. He reclined as best he could and looked out the window, watching the city go by around him and the landscape change from urban to more natural. He exhaled and some of the tension left his body as he began to see more trees. He much preferred nature to the city and crossing into it always relaxed him. By the time the bus arrived, he was shaking with excitement and eagerly dashed off it and began sprinting towards the park.

He was panting and out of breath when he arrived at the rusted metal gate that marked the entrance to the trail he always walked. He took a moment to take a deep breath and recompose himself before pushing open the gate and walking leisurely along the trail. The area was wooded, with the chirping of birds and the rustling of animals all around him. There were also flowers lining the trail. Some carefully tended them but Esval didn’t know who. He always stopped to appreciate them though. He knelt down to sniff them and nearly fell over as the ground shifted a little beneath him. He rebalanced and sniffed a rose, breathing in its scent, before he stood back up and continued along the trail.

Soon the flat trail began to gently slope upward, moving to the top of a hill. It was not particularly steep however, so it was still an easy walk. After about thirty minutes of walking, Esval arrived at the top of the hill, to a cliff that overlooked a river below it. He walked to the edge and let his legs dangle off it. He closed his eyes and sat in silence, relaxing after the stresses of the day. Pretty soon he began to feel a little tired and lay back on the hill, looking up at the sky. He lay there for several hours, just enjoying nature and watching the sun and clouds move across the sky. It was only when the sun began to set and he yawned that he decided he should go back.

However, as he stood up, the ground began to shake underneath and he suddenly slipped off the edge of the cliff. He screwed his eyes shut in fear and surprise as he felt himself falling, only to realize his fall had been arrested by someone grabbing his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you!” Esval, his eyes still shut, clung to the arm that held him and soon found himself back on the edge of the cliff. He opened his eyes to look around and thank his rescuer, but all he saw was someone with black scales and...was that a sword...walking quickly away from him. The scent of roses hovered in the air and was on the arm that the person had grabbed.

Esval sighed in relief. “What the fuck just happened? An earthquake? I’m lucky he was here. I better get going now.” He slowly walked back down the trail, his legs shaking from fright the whole way, and, with a sudden burst of energy, ran back to the bus stop, just barely catching the last bus of the day. Tired from the fright and a long day, he fell asleep on the bus and slept peacefully until it arrived at the stop closest to his house, at which point he woke up and wearily walked home, crashing in his bed as soon as he could, not even bothering to remove his clothes or change into pajamas. He was out like a light immediately and he slept peacefully once more, his exhaustion putting him into a very deep sleep.

[jeroro456]

Echoes of Light and Dark(short FFXIV fanfic about my hrothgar, Ten’losk)

His sword cleaved through his opponent’s armor as if it was not there. Two more soldiers charged him from both sides, only to be met with lances of dark energy that tore through their bodies as well. Ten’losk pulled his sword from the body and let it fall hilt first to the ground. He knelt down before the bodies and offered a short prayer. “Mother Hydaelyn, watch over their souls as they come into the light. Father Zodiark, let not the darkness of regret bind them to this mortal plane.”

He stood up and marched resolutely forward. The sound of artillery and the cries of the fighting, the wounded and the dying obscuring the heavy sounds of his footfalls, though they were mere echoes from across the battlefield. Around him there was an oasis of silence, the total silence brought on by the absence of all life. “3 more to add to the tally than. How many more must it be this day?” He shook his head. It had been a long day, though in the perpetual darkness that marked the border between Ala Mhigo and the Garlean territories, it was nigh impossible to judge how much time had passed. It could have been minutes, hours or even days and he would have been none the wiser. And indeed, time seemed to have lost all meaning. He no longer marked the progress of the campaign by time, but by how many he had killed.

He had hoped it would be zero, for his current mission had been to destroy an autonomous Garlean war mech. But it had not been so. A platoon of soldiers had surrounded him as he finished cleaving the magitek apart. They had been silent and still, perhaps awed and terrified by his power. Until one had the courage to thrust his spear forward, though its progress was halted in an untimely manner and the splintered remains of it used to ward off the attacks from his comrades. He still remembered the cry of “Demon!” that had come from the youngest of them, as he had lost control of himself for a mere second and in that time painted ground red with the blood of 11 of his assailants.

In total, 17 men had died in that one encounter.

It had been so in the last and it would be so again the next and in every one after that.

Soon he reached the gates of the at first hastily constructed, now well made and entrenched military camp. Behind him there was nothing but silence, the entire left flank having been momentarily secured by his efforts. In front of him however, there was a cacophony of soldiers talking in their downtime, trying to take their minds off the horror, the cries of the wounded and dying, the footsteps of many scouts and intermediaries running to and fro. His tent was in the center of the camp and the noise, a position of utmost prominence and respect. He slipped inside the tent and piece by piece removed his armor.

There was a voice, that of a young boy. One that he knew well, for it was him. “How many was it?” Another voice, older, but also him. “64.” Ten’losk put his head in his hands. “They will be remembered. We must remember them.” The first voice spoke again. “Remember them always. Remember why you fight, Losk.” Then the second voice spoke again. “This is how you are, who we are, Ten. Always remember that. Do not forget the violence that follows you and the violence that must follow, for they never will.”

Ten’losk was silent. He reached into a chest near the foot of the simple bedroll he used and pulled out white robes, slipping them on.

“It is who I am. I carry the voices of all who have supported me, who have died for me and who have fallen at my hand. I respect and honor their sacrifices by always moving forward, never allowing this life so dearly earned to falter and fade.” There was silence once more but he could feel the approval as he uttered that oft said mantra of his. 

He slid on simple sandals and picked up a staff that lay on the floor, then headed out of the tent once more. The medical tent was relatively near his own and he walked there quickly. Several faces looked up at him as he arrived and a Gridanian conjurer beckoned him forward. “Ten’losk! Perfect timing, I was just about to send someone to fetch you.” He gestured to a Hyur laying on a cot next to where he was standing. There was blood pouring from a cut on his chest and his head and arms were covered in burns. He was unconscious and his breathing was ragged“He tangled with a magitek scorpion. I’m afraid healing this is beyond my ability. Could you..” Ten’losk nodded and strode to the man’s side. He looked him over and then placed his hands on the man’s chest. Where his hands crossed, glowing rays of light appeared. He slid his hands over the wound on the man’s chest and the edges of the  cut were pulled together and then it vanished as though it had never been. The man’s breathing eased and the conjurer gave him a look of gratitude.

Ten’losk then pulled out a small wooden box from a pocket of his robes and opened it, smearing a tiny amount of the blue gel within over his hands. He then clasped his hands together and they began to shimmer once more, the light tinted blue by the gel. He cautiously placed his hands on the man’s arms and slowly slid them upwards. Where he touched, the blue glow became blinding and then the burns were gone. Ten’losk repeated this process for the man’s head, then turned back to the conjurer. “Is there anyone else who needs treatment?” The man nodded. “Yes. A platoon of soldiers recently skirmished with a magitek tank. They triumphed but all are severely burned.” Ten’losk nodded. “Could you show me which beds they’re in?” “Of course” the conjurer replied.

Several minutes and several blue flashes of light later, the burn victims were fully healed. Ten’losk returned to the first man and was pleased to see that he had awoken.

Ten’losk whispered to himself, unheard by anyone. “This is who I am. I give life as much as I take it, that I honor those who have died in my name by giving as much as I take, to keep the scales balanced.”

[jeroro456]

Character bios for my OCS

Rowan:

Species: Bear

Age: 23

Rowan is the first son of the royal clock maker of the kingdom of Artio. He is somewhat aloof and detached and has a very difficult to shake calm that came from years of suppressing anger. Beneath this aloof exterior however, he has a lot of conflicted feelings about his identity, worth and position. This is because he was set to inherit his father’s title of royal clock maker until his father had another child, Malar, who was a far superior craftsman, artisan and speaker than Rowan, causing their father to designate Malar as his heir instead of Rowan. Rowan, who had put a great deal of pride in his inheritance and title, was suddenly shunted to the side and ended up joining the royal guards in an effort to still be of use to Artio’s royal family. Due to a surprising talent for soldiery and a fierce drive to prove himself, Rowan rapidly became the captain of the royal guard. Though he is happy where he is, he still harbors feelings of inadequacy and resentment towards his father and brother. However, these feelings are complicated as Rowan is genuinely proud of Malar’s skills and fiercely protective of him, as Malar is somewhat physically frail and outside of the context of craftsmanship, very clumsy with a tendency to get injured frequently.

Alaren: 

Species: Bull

Age: 19

Alaren grew up on the streets in the largest city of Artio. He lost his parents to illness when he was very young and so in order to survive he was forced to steal, beg and do odd jobs for those who had money to spare. When he was 8, he met a slightly older tigress named Lyra. Lyra took him under her wing and helped him survive his harsh circumstances, through emotional support and passing the skills she had learned from a slightly longer time living on the streets. He and Lyra have a sibling-like relationship and though not related by blood, Alaren calls her his sister and Lyra calls Alaren her brother. Alaren managed to carve out a tenuous stability for himself and though he was not happy, he managed to stay somewhat afloat, sometimes even getting a roof over his head by doing odd jobs at various inns and taverns in exchange for a place to sleep. His circumstances changed one day, when on his 18th birthday, he had a chance encounter with Hala, the royal blacksmith. Seeing a toughness that impressed her and feeling pity for him, Hala offered Alaren the opportunity to train under her as a blacksmith. After a few days of deliberation and being urged to do so by Lyra, Alaren accepted Hala’s offer. Since then, he has lived in the castle, training under Hala. He adjusted to his new life relatively well, though he still deals with feelings of inferiority and the other servants of the king often looked down on him, as many of them were born into the role and so felt a false sense of superiority over him. Due to this, he considered leaving and returning to his old life several times, until he found an unlikely friend in Rowan, who despite coming from a similar background to those who mocked Alaren, could commiserate somewhat with his perspectives due to how his birthright was snatched away from him and the feelings of inferiority that brought.

Lyra:

Species: Tiger

Age: 25

Lyra was originally from a noble family and from birth, was arranged to marry that recently born son of the king of Artio once they were both old enough. Due to this, her life and choices were greatly restricted. She was taught etiquette, history and many other skills that were deemed fitting of the future queen, in an attempt to mold her into what her family expected of her. This clashed with what she wanted for herself, as she did not want her freedom restricted and rejected the arrogant and dismissive attitudes of her family, who looked down on commoners. Eventually, when she was 8, she ran away from home, fell in with a guild of rogues, working for them in exchange for support and concealment from her family. Eventually, she falsified her identity entirely, changing her name to Lyra and starting to take a more active role in her new community, reveling in her newfound freedom. She began to rob from wealthy and noble families in an effort to redistribute their wealth, selling what she stole to buy food and medicine for those who needed it but could not afford it. Eventually, she became the leader of the group of rogues and thieves that she had found herself become a part of.

Finn:

Species: Dragon

Age: 19

Finn is one of the many children of the noble families of Helvion, a large and mountainous territory far to the north of Artio. He had 20 half siblings, as his father had children with many different women. He never knew his mother as she left shortly after he was born. He was the only child his father had with her, so despite the fact that got along reasonably well with his many half siblings, he felt somewhat isolated, a problem made worse by the fact that his father did not have any more children for several years after Finn’s birth, meaning many of his siblings were much younger than him. Finn, being a noble, had a relatively cushy life, though he disliked how impersonal his large family made everything. He was only close with 3 of his siblings but they had all moved away when they turned 19 and as per the custom of his family, were required to take up a position in government. Finn was no exception to this custom and was being groomed for a boring but necessary bureaucratic position for most of his life, a position he embraced as he found it safe and to be the foundation of a boring but easy life. This changed very suddenly however, when the day before his 19th birthday, his father received an urgent message, stating that Finn’s uncle, who had been a member of Helvion’s military tasked with defending a remote village from the demons that often attacked from the mountains, had died suddenly and mysteriously. The letter, which had come with the sword Finn’s uncle had used, requested an urgent replacement to protect the village. As Finn was the only one of his children old enough to be of any use, his father was forced to send him. Armed only with a slightly too large set of armor and his uncle’s sword, a powerful magic heirloom of the family, Finn was forced to become a soldier, turning his entire life on its head.

[jeroro456]

The House of Cards(a personal essay)

Hey there, everyone. It’s been a wild 6 months, hasn’t it?

Everything is changing and it’s terrifying.

I don’t know fully why I’m writing this, only that there’s a storm inside me that suddenly clamors to be put on the page and into the world.

It’s 2020. I graduated highschool and I start college in the fall. 

It’s still surreal to me. I don’t really know who I am anymore. I was too wrapped up in school and my own crumbling sanity to really truly think about what I would do now, about who I would be. 

I wonder if I ever really knew who I was.

But that’s okay!

Because looking back, I’ve done a lot of growing

14 year old me, who dyed his hair pink and purple on a whim. 14 year old me, who got himself involved in internet circles he shouldn’t have. 14 year old me, who hadn’t yet discovered his true talents.

Yikes, it’s hard to believe that was even me. I made so many mistakes, so many things I would change if I could, so many things that embarrass me still.

Getting involved in the furry fandom at 14 was...maybe not the best thing I’ve ever done. But even so, it’s made me who I am today. Y’all honestly saved my life, the life of a fractured and falling apart kid who needed some stability desperately. So thank you. That confused, irresponsible, fracturing kid is now a much more confident, stable, driven adult thanks to y’all.

Looking forward now, I still don’t fully know who I am or what I want to do and be.

But it’s okay! 

I’ll take pleasure in solving the mystery myself.

Once, when I was at my lowest point, I described myself as a house of cards. Stable, until you pull away one card and it all comes crashing down. The slightest shift would send me crashing back to down to earth from the heavens.

Well, I think it all did come crashing down this year.

It’s a relief though.

Now, I can pick up all the cards and rebuild the house at my leisure.

I can rebuild it card by card until it’s exactly what I want.

I can shore it up with concrete and cables, keep it from collapsing until it touches the sky.

Lately, when I’ve thought about myself and my future, there have been some song lyrics that come to mind. “Oh the mouth of the river and the wrath of the giver, with the hands of the sinner” from The Mouth of the River by Imagine Dragons and “In my head, there’s a greyhound station, where I send my thoughts to far off destinations” from Soul Meets Body by Death Cab for Cutie.

I’ve always felt as if I have to give everything to society, losing myself as it all flows out like water and down the river as I barely keep my head above the surface, as my thoughts and identity leave me and are replaced by the water, covering my head and filling my lungs. Everything would flow out of me and I would be empty, to be filled up by whoever passed by.

But that’s not the case anymore.

This empty house of cards came crashing down and now I can swim to the shore and rebuild it with me inside, with the storm that’s always rattling around inside my mind free to expand beyond my body, so I can truly make my own unique mark on the world. And when the storm subsides, I can shine with all the colors of the rainbow.

[jeroro456]

Concept: a high-flying action RPG that includes skits and interstitial chapters from the perspective of the “actors” who notionally play the core cast. This is initially treated as a metatextual joke, except halfway through the game, the main villain dies unexpectedly, and everybody else breaks character in a panic, revealing that the actor playing the villain really did die due to an unsafe stunt gone horribly wrong; this leads to the game-within-the-game’s cancellation, and the remainder of the game is a slice-of-life visual novel about dealing with the personal fallout from that event.

[jeroro456]

Life in Crimson

I wrote this story for a writing scholarship, the results were announced today and I didn’t win so I’m posting it here.

 6 years ago was the last time I saw my grandmother.

I remember the shimmering shirt my grandmother had been wearing that day, deeper blue even than the blue of the vibrant late summer sky up above her garden. It had rained the previous day and the air was bathed with a comfortable humidity. She was hunched over with her fingers plunged deeply into the soil. “Grandma! Grandma!” I burst out, as I ran toward her. Her hands were rough and covered in dirt but, to me, her embrace was pure and soft. The scent of the garden was on her clothes and the sensation of honey and lavender emanated from her and enveloped me. She took my hand and brought me to an old and moss covered wooden bench in the center of her garden, in the shade of an apple tree. There was a riot of color pressed up against the bench, incandescent and wondrous hues of orange and blue and yellow and pink and purple and white. The twilight sun rippled through the leaves of the tree, bouncing off the apples and suffusing the flowers with a gentle glow. There was honeysuckle climbing the fence, reaching endlessly to the sky. Grandma stroked my back and held me close to her  in a comfortable silence that I couldn’t conceive would ever end.

That silence was broken by a harsh cry of pain and I felt Grandma’s arms fall away from me. I looked up to see that her smile had vanished, replaced by an expression that at the time was unfamiliar to me. There was a roar in the driveway and the creaking of a gate. My parents soon arrived and ushered me out. I was crying. I didn’t understand why I had to leave. My parents tried their best to calm me down but nothing would work. As my mom settled me down in the car, though tears were still streaming down my face, I saw that my Grandma had slowly opened the gate that led to the driveway and was hobbling out, wincing with every step, but smiling. She was holding a rose from her garden that was a deep crimson, as though it had caught the crimson sunset in its petals. She handed the rose to me through the open window of the car and I eagerly grabbed it and the thorns of the rose sliced my palm open. The crimson of my blood mirroring the crimson of the rose. Though it hurt, I stopped crying and watched the blood drip and stain my white shorts. My Grandma produced a band-aid and stuck it on my hand with a smile. She then turned and walked away with something in her stance suggesting a pain that completely eclipsed the pain in my hand. As she walked through the gate, she stumbled and my dad caught her before she fell. 

I clutched my rose to my chest through the entire car ride home. I began to nod off but when I did, I remembered the pain in my hand and the pain my Grandma had been feeling and it gave me a melancholy energy that kept me awake all through the night. When we got home, my dad got a crystal vase and held it in the sink for me, as I filled it with warm water. I then gently placed the rose inside. Some of the blood from my hand was caked on the thorns and it came off in the water, swirling around and giving it a faint crimson tinge. 

I kept my rose on a shelf in my room until the funeral. 

6 years ago was the last time I saw my grandmother. 

I was 8, but even then, I had known something was wrong. The grown-ups never told me though. It wasn’t until I was in high school that I learned she had cancer in her bones. I remember feeling bitter and angry that they hadn’t told me. Mom was rarely in the house when my dad and I got home from school. She would always arrive late at night, with her characteristic smile always a little more diminished. One day, her smile was gone and it was then that I knew I would never see my grandma again. 

6 years ago was the last time I saw my grandmother.

All through her funeral, I had my hands wrapped tightly around my rose. Whenever the tears began to come, I thought of my grandmother who had handed me that rose, in spite of the pain that she must surely have been feeling. I wanted to be brave like Grandma, so I dried my tears just as I had back when I last saw her.

Later, when my mother and I paid our respects at my Grandma’s grave, I sat down on the fresh dirt and placed my rose before me. Soon, my mother was speaking. “It’s time to go.” I didn’t want to leave and I began to cry, unable to hold the tears back this time. My mom pulled at my arm, but I dug in, refusing to move. She began to promise me we’d come back soon to see the headstone when it was placed but still I refused to move. Finally, I accepted her pleas and began to turn away. As I did, I watched my rose wilt into the soil, leaving only silence and darkness behind.The void was replaced by the smell of honey and lavender, rising in a crescendo. The shimmering of the twilight sun grew and grew, reaching endlessly down to earth until it seemed to fill the whole world. There was a riot of color on all sides, incandescent and wondrous hues of orange and red and yellow and pink and purple and white and finally, a deep crimson seemed to envelop the whole universe. I felt a pure and soft embrace around me. I smiled. 

That was the last time I saw my Grandma.

[jeroro456]

Been awhile since I've posted one, I have a new poem finally!

Title: Sins of our fathers

Sins stacked perpetually

Reaching wistfully towards the heavens

Fires that flicker to roar

Scattering smoke across fathoms

From eternal to eternal

The sins of our fathers

Masks crafted from history

Pages and words breathed into life

Burning our futures

From eternal to eternal

The sins of our fathers

Planks and foundations

Houses built with empty words

Of generations past

From eternal to eternal

The sins of our fathers

Burn the foundations

With fear and patience

To start anew

From eternal to eternal

The sins of our fathers

Let it all wash away

In the fire of calm

The sins of our fathers

[jeroro456]

I've made a new DnD character so meet Aeschere, my Aasimar Shadow Sorcerer.

His parents were a Fallen Aasimar and a Protector Aasimar and as a result, he ended up being born with both the Shadow and Divine Soul sorcerous origins. He was shunned from his hometown due to his heritage, which was seen as sacrilegious, and his strange and unusual powers.

When he was 12, he was forced to flee his village, with nothing but the clothes on his back and his favorite book. He took a new name, from his favorite character in that book. He ha been hunted for his powers since then.

Throughout his entire life, his two divine and dark natures competed. Later, when he was hunted and found by a powerful bounty hunter, he fought back and in a desperate move, gave into the dark power within him. His dark nature became the dominant power within him and his divine nature became diminished.

He stumbled into a remote temple dedicated to Selune, the moon goddess after that and was taken into the care of the priests there. There he devoted himself to studying magic and gaining knowledge, to unravel the secrets of exactly why he had been cursed with his power. He became a devout worshipper of Selune. He lived in that temple for about five years, being taught magic by a powerful cleric there. However, when he was 17, bounty hunters got wind of his location and burned the temple to the ground. Aeschere escaped but everyone in the temple, including the cleric, was killed.

After this, he wandered the lands, cursing himself and his luck. He began to see himself as Selune's envoy in the world and believed she speaks to him. He fled to a new continent, hoping he would be unknown and safe there, so he could gather magic, knowledge and power in order to exact revenge on those who destroyed the temple.

He prefers to be awake during the night rather than during the day, a habit and preference born from the fact that evaded those who chased him was easier in the night. He is skilled at communication with others and making friends but only cares to do so with those who can help him advance his goals. He is slow to trust others and pushes people away from truly getting to know him, because he believes they will inevitably die.

He hoards magic, power and knowledge in order to exact revenge. He dislikes those he sees as arrogant, though he is something of a hypocrite in this regard, as he is quite arrogant himself.

He will help his comrades only so long as they do not slow him down. He greatly enjoys books, magical experimentation and natural vistas far from civilization.

He is quite flamboyant in his manner of dress and his use of magic, having crafted an entirely new identity once he reached the other continent, by giving voice to an aspect of his personality he had shunned in order to remain inconspicuous.

He seeks knowledge and power over all else and is very secretive, not letting anyone know what he has learned.

He has white skin, his eyes are entirely black except for purple irises. He is short and wears a black tunic with a dark red cape.

[jeroro456]

Here's the raffle prize from my raffle for Endheriel on twitter, I had a lot of fun writing this one!

Guillermo blearily fumbled for his phone, trying to shut off the alarm that he had been ignoring up until than. He had been up until one AM last night, reviewing the facts of a case and looking for an answer that had thus far eluded him. He had been about to give up and turn in for the night when he’d had a sudden flash of insight and had come to what he was sure was the correct answer. However, the late night had taken a toll on him and all he wanted to do was sleep in. He was expected at work today though so he had to drag himself out of bed and get ready. His next day off was in 2 days, on friday and he felt that it could not come soon enough.

Rubbing his eyes and trying to banish his weariness through sheer force of will, Guillermo pulled himself out of bed and made his way over to the small kitchen area in the corner of his apartment. He put on a pot of coffee, his fingers fumbling with the machine for a few seconds before he managed to turn it on. As he waited for the coffee to be ready, he reflected on the past few months. He liked his job well enough but nothing really exciting had happened lately, it had mostly been boring and tedious. And yet, it had taken up most of his time and left him feeling rather drained so he hadn’t had much of an opportunity to socialize either.

The coffee machine dinged, signaling that the coffee was ready, and as Guillermo poured it, he resolved to make time for relaxation tonight, whatever it took. Maybe he’d see if one of his coworkers was available to hang out. Still thinking on how best to accomplish this, he prepared and quickly ate a piece of toast, before downing the rest of his coffee and rushing out the door. As he exited his apartment, he was hit with an unexpected blast of cold air. It had been warm lately and he had assumed it would be warm today as well. The cold was something of an anomaly and Guillermo shivered a little, glad for the extra warmth his feathers provided him.

The shock of the cold woke him up a little and he began to walk a little faster, eager to get out of it. There was a gradual crescendo of sights and sounds as the city began to wake up around him. The sun had just started to rise, coating everything in striking hues of orange and red. Guillermo passed a bakery and caught the scent of baking bread and felt his stomach growl. He might have to come back later, when he had the time.

When he was around halfway to work, Guillermo caught sight of a restaurant he hadn’r seen before. It must’ve been fairly recent or he would’ve noticed it before. There was a pleasant smell wafting through the door, though he couldn’t place exactly what it was and he decided to come back here as well, making a note of the name of the restaurant in his phone. Maybe he’d treat himself and come there after work. If he wasn’t too tired.

Soon enough, he arrived at the police station and he put his other concerns out of his mind for the time being, mentally preparing himself to focus on his work. He needed to follow up on the discovery he had made yesterday and there were doubtless several more tedious matters that demanded his attention.

As soon as he sat down at his desk, he noticed a pile of papers that someone had left there, presumably for him to go over. He sighed. Sometimes it seemed like he would never get a break. He immediately started looking through the papers, making notes of what he needed to do. Some of it was simply information he needed to look over, but some of it required talking to people or following up on various conclusions and detained suspects. He could already tell that most of his day would be taken up just by what was here and there would probably be more coming later as more of his coworkers showed up with things that demanded his attention. He put the more tedious stuff to the side, hoping to deal with it later. He disliked getting caught up in the bureacracy associated with the law and it seemed there was a lot of that to deal with today.

He had his nose to the brimstone reviewing the details of a case when he was tapped on the shoulder by a coworker he had only spoken to a few times, a wolf named Daniel. He was about to greet him when Daniel spoke “You look busy, so I hate to interrupt but it’s about time for the lunch break and I wondered if you would want to eat together?” Guillermo looked at his watch, noting with surprise that it read 12:30. He must’ve been so focused on his work that he lost track of time, he could’ve sworn that it was only around 11:00. His break was just starting it seemed. He looked back at Daniel and nodded. “Sure, I’d love to.”

The wolf pumped his fist and, once Guillermo had organized his things and stood up, led them both outside. “There’s a burger restaurant near here that I frequent and I was thinking I’d head there. You okay with that?” Guillermo nodded and the two of them headed out, walking silently, the cold discouraging conversation a little. The two of them soon arrived at the restaurant and were quickly seated. There was a delicious smell wafting from the kitchen and it was making Guillermo hungry.

Daniel noticed his expression and laughed. “It always smells real good here and the food is as good as it smells.” Guillermo nodded. “It must be amazing food than.”

The two of them got their menus and ordered quickly, Guillermo ordering a vegetarian burger and Daniel ordering something called a meat lover’s burger, which when it came, was stacked with chicken, a beef patty and bacon. “How are you able to eat something like that?” Guillermo wondered aloud, causing the wolf to grin in response. “I’m a wolf, it's in my DNA to eat lots of meat.” Guillermo laughed “Well as long as you don't eat me.” Daniel laughed too. “Don't worry, I won't. I have a strict no eating coworkers policy.”

After that, the two of them lapsed into a pleasant silence, happily eating. Their lunch break was soon over and they got up to return to work. As they were entering the station, Guillermo asked if Daniel might be free to hang out more later, causing the wolf to blush and say he had a date later tonight.

Once he was back at his desk, Guillermo sighed. He had enjoyed the wolf’s presence and had hoped he could help him destress. “Oh well” he muttered to himself. “There’ll be other people to hang out with and that was still fun.”

With that, he threw himself back into his work and redoubled his efforts, hoping to clear all of it so he could just relax later. Unfortunately the work kept piling up and he came home exhausted and craving sleep. As he collapsed into bed, he reflected on the day. “You know what” he thought “Today was a good day, in spite of everything.” And with that, he fell asleep, feeling happy and prepared for the next day.

[jeroro456]

Thought I'd share some of my old work here, so have one of my older poems, entitled Clockwork.

One

Tick Tock

I remember when we met

From my door, I heard a knock

Holding flowers, you blushed, said you’d lost a bet

Our future was then set

Two

Tick Tock

We’d sit and talk

Before I knew it, you’d unlocked my heart

And become a part of me

As long as the eye could see

Three

Tick Tock

We laughed, we cried

We told lies, we fought, we made up

Always satisfied with our lot

Four

Tick Tock

You would stay up with me till the clock struck midnight

Always with me, from dusk to first light

The pages always turning on

Never did I think anything would change

Five

Tick Tock

The news was sudden

Your face drained of blood

Two short years

And then you’d no longer be here

Six

Tick Tock

You fell and fumbled

Then were still, almost like slumber

Silence as the ground claimed you

All I wanted was your sound

Seven

Tick Tock

You're gone, I’m still here

Drained to a single tear

It isn't fair

I thought you’d always be here

Eight

Tick Tock

But the clock ever strikes on

Each year locking the pain deeper

Yet never to vanish

This sorrow cannot be banished

Nine

Tick Tock

Never, ever forgotten

The love we built together

Remains in my heart

A bittersweet work of art

Ten

Tick Tock

Sometimes I think I can hear you

But you're nowhere near

Not once, through all these years

Not by my side, to quell my fear

Eleven

Tick Tock

The pages keep turning

Even as my life begins to burn

Tick Tock

Tick Tock

Twelve

Tick Tock

Seems my time has come

Eyes starting to see none

White light begins to cover

A voice calls to me, calling me to move

“Shall we head home, my love?”

[jeroro456]

I have a new poem entitled Sunset Sins!

Without further ado, here is it!

The light waxes, the light wanes

Everyday seeking to grab the reins

Feel the blood pumping, life in my veins

Behind eyes clouded, frosted liquid window panes

Open and shut they fly

Open and shut

Open and shut

Keep the healing, the calm, the light

Let the demons, the cold, the night

Banish in the mist

Evils marked off a list

Vanishing with an ephemeral hiss

Outward, I shimmer, a mirror of ice

Reflecting, shining, absorbing, yearning

Inward, the heat burns

flickering, flaming, roaring, scalding

The glacial permanence keeps all hidden

Yet the inferno roars unbidden

Fed by the broken remains

Of the masks and the pain

I cast aside

The charred remains dwelling deep inside

It burns as a beacon against the night

Embers eternal, immolating fears final

I seek to put it out, lest my soul catch alight

The roars within a funeral pyre

Inferno eternal, burning sunset sins

Dwelling in the final

[jeroro456]

Flame amidst fear

The screams were back again. Somewhere from beyond the walls, something was screaming into the into the storm,  drowning out even the sound of the thunder and the rain as it crashed down onto the roof of the tiny one room home I live in. She was used to the storm but this set her teeth chattering and awakened a primal urge to run deep in her body. By my reckoning, which I am beginning to doubt, it had been 3 days since the screams had first come, drawing the citizens out of their homes to look and listen and to ask the matriarch, my grandmother,  what it could be. Yet she had no answer, giving no response beyond “Keep the boundary stones piled high. Quickly!” and pushing anyone who came to see her out as soon as they had come. 

No one had left the town in decades and she either could not or would not explain. At first, they had all been reluctant to act and trusted in the strength of the walls of both steel and magic to protect them. Before the next tolling of the bells however, the fires that supplied the magic energy throughout the town had started to grow cold and those with any sense for the magical felt a growing threat mounting against the walls. So it was decided that the words of the matriarch would be heeded and an expedition party of the bravest among us was selected to investigate. Yet of the 7 who had volunteered to go, only 3 returned, carrying with them the severed arm of Halia and his crystal necklace that had been said to guard his family from evil for generations. Usually it shown with a fierce golden light but that light had dimmed.

With my parents lost to illness sometime ago and her grandmother unwilling to truly take charge, she had become the sole authority in the town and yet all my experience and skill had come to nothing. I had tried to question the survivors about what happened but it was as though they were unable to hear me. They reacted to my movements but otherwise remained silent and entirely unresponsive to anything I said. Then she had tried to rekindle the fire and yet, for all my prayer, magic and pleading, it had stubbornly refused to grow and I felt as though she had been infected by whatever cold plagued it. Defeated, I returned to her home to think and yet she had come up with nothing. There was a chill in my bones that sapped my energy and the screaming had left me to unfocused to truly plan.

That had been a day and a half ago and the screaming had grown more frequent. No one, not even Tam’s newborn baby, had been able to sleep longer than an hour and a silent panic was beginning to take hold throughout the town. Rather than riot and let their fear drive them to cruelty, the citizens of the town had become reclusive and sullen. The streets were unusually quiet, with nothing save the sound of rain and the occasional blinding flash of lightning.

I had been just sitting in my home, watching the drops of rain go by, wishing she could be free as the water that constantly covered everything. After an amount of time I was not sure of, for I had neglected to wind the clock that hung on her wall, there was a brighter flash of lightning than usual accompanied by a deafening roar of thunder and then, seemingly immediately after, a frantic knock at her door. In stood up slowly, wincing as my muscles stretched from their previous stillness and stumbled over to open the door.

I had to stifle a gasp when she saw the many who was at her door. It was Daneil, a guardsman and warrior who had been a member of the expedition party. His face was pale and  he had an odd expression on his face, full of determination but also a deep shade of red around his eyes as though he had been crying. I winced. Of course. He had been Halia’s husband. I quickly pulled him inside and sat him down on a cushion in the center of the room before speaking, unsure of what to say.

“Are you okay?” It felt like a silly question given that she new the answer but she felt she had to ask. Daneil was shaking his head immediately as she began to speak however.”No. Truth be told, I don’t even know how I’m alive. I remember nothing but leaving the north gate and then the sound of ripping flesh,a cry of pain and a sense of complete terror and silence overtaking me. Next thing I knew, I was laying by the fire in the center of the village, with Halia’s” He paused and let out a sob here before continuing “Halia’s necklace just barely touching my leg, glowing faintly.” Clearly making an effort to hold back tears, he continued speaking. “I lay there for...I don’t know how long before picking up the necklace. When I did, I felt I had to come here. That you would be able to help.” She saw for the first time the necklace glowing in his hands, what little light that remained to it blinding her eyes.

He reached out and clasped my hands in his, the necklace touching her and sending a warmth up her arms. “Please, Lanai, I know there might be nothing we can do but we have to try something. I want revenge on whatever it was that killed my husband.”  I stared down at the floor, letting my hands fall from his. “But it’ll be pointless. You know as well as I do that if we go out beyond the walls, we will be killed.” He let out a sound that was half sob, half shout of anger. “Fine. if you won’t help me, then I’ll just do it myself.” He pushed himself to his feet and hobbled out the door. For the first time, I noticed that he was carrying a sword on his back. It was old and worn looking but it seemed to thrum with power and had a tracery of fire down the center of the blade. As he slammed the door behind him, it occurred to me that it must be his family’s sword, though it had likely not been used for generations.

I sat there in stunned silence before snapping to a sudden realization. The warmth from the necklace had spread up through my entire body and it was though I could think clearly once more. I could not very well let him meet his death alone. If he was going to die, well, it would be with me at his side. I slowly pulled the door to my home open, picking up the longbow that rested nearby. I had always been a good shot and I had to hope that it would be enough to save both our lives. When I made my way on the empty main road, I saw Daneil just in front of the east gate, waiting for it to open. There was no sign of the guards usually present there. Worried, I broke into a sprint and managed to catch up to him, right as he crossed the boundary. He heard my footsteps, kicking up water and loose stone and turned to face me. “So you decided to come after all.” I nodded. “I do not want anyone else to die.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I think we may both we be dead. But thank you. I am glad you came.” He then marshaled his face into an expression of grim stoicism and marched out through the gate as I followed.

As soon as we were through the gate, it slammed shut behind us. I looked back nervously while Daneil kept resolutely marching ahead. He had put on the necklace and its faint light glimmered like a beacon in front of me. His sword was drawn and his eyes scanned from horizon to horizon, clearly alert for danger. The screams had died down but soon started up again and they dampened all light and quieted all sound for their duration. With every step we took, I felt a mounting chill on the back of my neck. Daneil seemed to feel it too but kept marching forward anyway.

Soon, the walls of the village faded out of sight behind us, obscured by the rain and darkness. Daneil stopped from a moment and held the sword upright in front of him. He traced his finger down the blade and murmured a word that I could not make out. For a moment nothing happened and then an orange ball of blinding light dripped off the tip of the blade and hovered in the air in front of him. He flung it upward with the blade and did the same with two more balls of light that appeared. I jogged forward to catch up with my him, my feet beginning to sink a little into the ground as it turned from paved roads to mud. “I was not aware you knew magic.” He looked back at me and grinned as his usual cheer returned just for a moment. “It was a trick Halia taught me. I used to keep warm and wake as I would watch for trouble on the walls.” He kept his grin for a few more seconds before it was replaced by a grim expression as he looked skyward. “I suppose you’re still watching out me even from death, huh? I wish I could have had the chance to say goodbye.” He wiped his eyes and murmured “I love you.” As he stood still for a few seconds, I reached forward and put my hand on his shoulder, starting to ask if he was okay when he shrugged it off and started marching forward again at a more rapid pace. “I am fine. LEt us keep going. We will die if we dawdle here.”

The two of us walked in silence for a time, until we came to a strange pile of rocks, laid out in what looked like a deliberate but incomplete fashion. The air around us felt unnatural, as though something malevolent swirled around us. Daneil spoke. “This must be one of the boundary stones your grandmother spoke of.” I hesitated. “If that is the case, we should fix it. But how?” Daneil looked around for a moment before pulling out the necklace. The light was still dampened but it illuminated our surroundings enough to make out the rocks in more detail. He spoke up “Look.” He pointed. “It looks like something is missing there.” I looked to where he pointed and saw that he was correct. There were several markers that seemed to denote where something should be placed and the right side seemed to be incomplete while the left side was intact.. “Interesting. It seems like they are supposed to be symmetrical. Perhaps if we copy the design of the left side opposite it, it will be fixed.” 

Daneil nodded before looking around our surroundings. He held out the necklace and walked forward, then bent down. When he stood up, I could see he was holding a large rock and that there were several others scattered about him. Following his lead, I picked up another rock and placed it on the pile where the markers where. It was hard work, but the two of us were soon almost finished. Daneil was just placing the last rock when there was a shriek from somewhere beyond the stones and I saw him dragged by a darkness that eclipsed all else to somewhere outside the radius of the stones.

“Daneil! Daneil!” I chased after him but stopped when I realized I could not see where i was going. I stood helplessly for several seconds before I saw bright flashes of fire in the distance. “It must be Daneil’s sword!” I charged off in the direction of the light, knocking an arrow as I did so. I arrived just in time to see Daniel desperately parrying the attacks of that seemed to blend it with the darkness and the rain but was encroaching on him from all sides. As I watched, an arm of darkness got around Daniel’s guard and rushed straight towards his face. Without even realizing I’d done so, I let the arrow I had nocked fly and it struck the beast’s arm transfixing it mere inches away from Daniel.

I ran towards him as the darkness seemed to abate somewhat and we stood back to back. There was a momentary reprieve before he yelled “Duck!” and as I was doing so, whirled and put his sword above and front of me, sparks flying as it came into contact with a tendril of darkness. I let another fly in the direction the attack had come from. There was no reaction except for more tendrils of darkness striking out at us. Daneil parried and severed them as I ducked and weaved, let loose arrow after toward where I felt the creature’s presence. After what felt like an eternity, the attacks stopped and the darkness seemed to abate permanently.

Daneil and I collapsed on the ground, both breathing heavily. “Thank you.” he said “I would be dead without you.” I took a deep breath in. “Do you think we got it?” he shook his head. “I do not know. I hope so.” The necklace grew bright again and he placed it on his neck. “I think Halia can rest in peace now.” He pulled me to my feet. “Come on. We should head back.” 

The two us slowly returned, weary and dead on our feet. When we arrived back in the town, it was bustling and the unease upon everyone seemed to have lifted. We were immediately taken to the town infirmary and checked for injuries. After we were allowed to leave, Daneil and I held a quiet funeral for Halia. He still wears the necklace to this day and credits it with his good health. His children are teenagers now and I often help take care of them, in Halia’s absence.

We never did find out what it was that threatened our town then and I hope never to do so.

[jeroro456]

Mother's voice(FFXIV character story #2)

There was something familiar about the Rak’tika greatwood, something that made Luke long for the forests of his home. It was similar enough to Gridania to make him nostalgic, yet alien enough that he felt a heartbreaking home sickness. He longed for the quiet calm of the Twelveswood, the gently singing of birds and the soothing aether of the land itself.

He was recovering from injuries sustained battling the lightwarden of Rak’tika when his longing reached its peak. Emet-Selch’s words had left him shaken, struck with a fear for the fate of his own world. He wanted nothing more to vanish back to The Source, to ensure calamity had not occurred in his absence and yet he was rooted to the first by duty and a sense of impending disaster.

He had resolved himself to waiting to return till he could leave The First in relative peace, but as he gazed down on the forest floor from the treetops of Fanow, he caught sight of the brilliant blue flowers that lined the forest floor and was suddenly struck by the realization that they were the exact same shade as his mother’s hair. He quickly leapt down, picking a flower and admiring it.

“Mother. I miss you. I wish you were to see everything I have become.” Luke thought for a moment before vanishing in a burst of aether, instantly reappearing in the center of Gridania. Quickly and quietly, cradling the flower, he stole away to hidden grove deep in the Twelveswood.

He quickly dispelled the magics he had cast that kept it hidden and strode forward, his eyes locked onto a stone monument situated in the very back, as elegant now as it had been when he had paid a fortune in favors he was owed to get it constructed by the finest craftsmen of the realm.

Luke gently placed the flower on the grave, next to the many mementos and relics of his journeys he had placed, in the hopes that his mother would recognize them and be proud, from wherever she was now and said a silent prayer to the Matron before speaking.

“Hello mother. I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I trust you are well?” He paused, vainly hoping for a response before continuing. “Things have been busy on my end. A lot has happened. People have started calling me the Warrior of Darkness. Ha! Imagine that, me, working for the Darkness. But I must admit, I like the title. Warrior of Light was getting a little old.” Luke laughed before going on. “But in all seriousness, I think I may be in over my head this time. Two entire worlds need me and I’m floundering under the weight.” He sat down in front of the grave. “It helps just to talk about it though. I just wish you could talk back, that I could hear your voice just one more time. Oh yeah! You're probably wondering how Valin is doing! He’s actually taken up my mantle and is leading the Scions in my stead. He’s done an amazing job and I couldn't be more proud to have such an awesome little brother. He might even surpass me one day! Haha!”

It was hours before Luke left, but when he did, it was with a weight off his chest, though he was still reluctant to leave, turning back to look one more time. “Goodbye mom. I love you. I promise to come visit again soon. If Valin comes here, tell him I’m okay. Got it? Thanks. I’m off than.”

He dashed out of the grove, carefully concealed it with magic again and then vanished in another burst of aether, reappearing in Fanow, to find the rest of his companions desperately searching for him. He set off a burst of magic to announce his presence and the laughed, looking towards the night sky and laughing. “You know, it's hard to stay optimistic but for now, I think everything is going to turn out all right.”

[jeroro456]

The Light Within(A Final Fantasy XIV short story)

Luke had been wandering the deserts of Ahm Araeng for…he didn't even know how long anymore. The eternal light beat down on him and he was wracked with guilt and seared by the light that was greater even than his own. He kept his eyes cast downward, trying to deny the truth of it. Yet he was unable to banish the pain, the anger and the guilt for he felt the light within as well as without. He could feel it almost writhing and squirming within him. It was malevolent and hungering and destructive and for the first time in his life he felt afraid of the light.

He slumped down against a boulder, slamming his fist against it.”Fuck it! After all I’ve been through, all I’ve sacrificed, all I’ve suffered, everything I’ve worked for, this is how it ends?!” He slammed his fist against the boulder two more times before letting it fall, resting by his legs. “How ironic it would be, for my light to end the world.” He felt tears start to stream down his face, steaming as they landed on the burning sands.

“I’m tired. I’m so, so tired.” He slumped down even more, resting only his head against the rock. He did not sleep, but neither was he awake and he lost track of all time until he felt a cold wind blow on his face and saw an axe out of the corner of his eye. “Now you know something of the desperation I felt in the wake of the flood.” Luke, too exhausted to do anything but fix the warrior that had a hard glare, spoke, his mouth dry and his lips cracked. “Ardbert. What do you want?” The spectral warrior dropped his axe and sat down next to Luke. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m the only one who can possibly understand how you feel right now.” Luke slowly raised his fist toward Ardbert, but it stopped short and fell back down to his side. “I don't want your sympathy. Just leave me to die in peace.”

Ardbert gave a short, barking laugh. “I didn't come to see you wallow in your misery. You're the warrior of darkness, not some wet behind the ears novice. You can't die in this Hydaelyn forsaken wasteland and you know it.” Luke raised his fist toward Ardbert but it again missed. “You think I don't know that? I’ve tried everything I can think of to fix this but” he gestured weakly around him “Nothing and no one can help me anymore. This world is doomed.”

Ardbert grabbed Luke’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “You bastard! You think you can just cut and run when things get tough? Abandon all those who’ve believed in you, relied on you, had faith that you would be their salvation? Disgusting.” He slapped Luke harshly. “You need to see what you mean to the people of Norvrandt, what they want from you.” He squeezed Luke’s hand harder and he felt a pounding headache and then suddenly their surroundings shifted. “This is….the crystarium” Luke stammered. “Please please please don't show me this. I can't take it. I just can’t.” Ardbert heaved a sigh and spoke. “Yes, you can. You're strong. And I won't let you cut and run, not this time.” The scene shifted again, to his room in the Pendants. He saw Ryne there and he somehow knew she was searching for some hint of where he’d gone. “Ryne. Ryne I’m so sorry. I just, I can't take it. I can't face you, not know.”

The scenes began to rapidly shift, flashing from Il Mheg, to Raktika, to Eulmore, Mord Souq and Twine, each image showing someone mourning his disappearance or desperately searching for him. Luke rounded on Ardbert. “Please….please stop.” Ardbert shook his head. “No. Not yet. You need to see what you mean to the people of Norvrandt. You need to see that you must come back.” He raised his hand and pointed. “And anyway, there's one more person who wants to see you.” Luke looked in the direction he pointed and saw an Elezen, resplendent in the armor of the Ishgardian Temple Knights.

He did a double take and then sprinted towards the figure. “Haurchefant. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn't save you.” He felt a hand wipe away his tears. “Do not despair my friend. And do not blame yourself. It was unfortunately my time. But it is not yours. You must survive. You must keep moving.” The image began to dissipate and Haurchefant’s voice grew faint. “And remember. A smile better suits a hero.”

The image vanished completely and Luke found himself back in Ahm Araeng and he stumbled but managed to keep his footing. Tears were streaming down his face, but in spite of this, he had a broad smile on his as he nodded to Ardbert. “Right. I’m sorry. I’m better now. And thank you.” Ardbert smiled as well. “I’m glad to see you better, my friend. What are you going to do now?” Luke strode off confidently, new found energy in his body. “I’m going to hunt down Emet-Selch and make him rue the day he messed with me. Will you come with me?” Ardbert sprinted forward. “Of course. But are you sure you can beat him?” Luke shook his head. “No. But I have to try. For those we have lost. For those we can yet save.”

[jeroro456]

The Watcher in the Waves

On my 6th birthday, my mother to the beach. I took advantage of a momentary distraction on her part to wade far deeper into the water than was safe. I do not remember what happened next, save for the sound of a woman’s voice, a consciousness I sensed was not my own and then finding myself in my mother’s car, the beach far out of sight behind us.

My mother never spoke of the event and she never let me near the sea again. Her fear even extended to pools and when I came home from my first day of high school inquiring about joining the swim team, I was slapped and told I was not allowed to join. So I put it out of my mind and joined the track team instead, and yet whenever I walked by the pool the swim team used, I felt the water calling to me.

In tenth grade, my mother remarried and I met my stepfather. I liked him well enough at first, but my feelings soon turned to anger when I noticed the bruises that had begun to appear on my mother’s face.

I do not know when he noticed my growing hate towards him, but soon his formerly congeniality turned to bouts of white hot anger and I quickly learned when to stay out of his way.

One day, on my 16th birthday, he insisted on taking me on a trip, just the two of us. When my mother objected, he hit her right in front of me and dragged me off to the car while she was left to tend to her now bleeding face.

There was a tension in the car and I could feel his anger building, though he did not say anything. As we moved farther and farther away from home, I began looking for ways to escape. However, I was completely at his mercy and I was forced to remain in the car till he parked and dragged me out, throwing me against a beach I later realized was the same one from my 6th birthday.

He began to furiously beat me, shouting something I could not hear over the ringing in my ears. I remember scrambling backwards, desperately trying to avoid his blows, my hands making contact with the water behind me and a spear of frozen anger shooting through me, then nothingness.

When I came to, I was treading water about 50 feet from the shore, the lifeless body of my stepfather floating next to me. I desperately swam for shore, dragging the body with me and collapsed once I passed the high tide mark.

At sunset, I was found by a family who had come to swim. The police were called and I was taken in for questioning, though the death was labelled a freak accident and an officer drove me back to my mother’s house.

I confess that I do not mourn my step father's death, however the circumstances of it chill my bones and blood. Every night I dream of water, his face gasping for air, my hands around his neck, holding him under and then I wake up, gasping for air as though I was drowning myself.

I have never returned to the sea since that day, for I always feel a malevolence watching me from beneath the waves, waiting patiently for when the sea will rise, I return to its clutches and it can rule the world once more.

[jeroro456]

The Watcher in the Waves

On my 6th birthday, my mother to the beach. I took advantage of a momentary distraction on her part to wade far deeper into the water than was safe. I do not remember what happened next, save for the sound of a woman’s voice, a consciousness I sensed was not my own and then finding myself in my mother’s car, the beach far out of sight behind us.

My mother never spoke of the event and she never let me near the sea again. Her fear even extended to pools and when I came home from my first day of high school inquiring about joining the swim team, I was slapped and told I was not allowed to join. So I put it out of my mind and joined the track team instead, and yet whenever I walked by the pool the swim team used, I felt the water calling to me.

In tenth grade, my mother remarried and I met my stepfather. I liked him well enough at first, but my feelings soon turned to anger when I noticed the bruises that had begun to appear on my mother’s face.

I do not know when he noticed my growing hate towards him, but soon his formerly congeniality turned to bouts of white hot anger and I quickly learned when to stay out of his way.

One day, on my 16th birthday, he insisted on taking me on a trip, just the two of us. When my mother objected, he hit her right in front of me and dragged me off to the car while she was left to tend to her now bleeding face.

There was a tension in the car and I could feel his anger building, though he did not say anything. As we moved farther and farther away from home, I began looking for ways to escape. However, I was completely at his mercy and I was forced to remain in the car till he parked and dragged me out, throwing me against a beach I later realized was the same one from my 6th birthday.

He began to furiously beat me, shouting something I could not hear over the ringing in my ears. I remember scrambling backwards, desperately trying to avoid his blows, my hands making contact with the water behind me and a spear of frozen anger shooting through me, then nothingness.

When I came to, I was treading water about 50 feet from the shore, the lifeless body of my stepfather floating next to me. I desperately swam for shore, dragging the body with me and collapsed once I passed the high tide mark.

At sunset, I was found by a family who had come to swim. The police were called and I was taken in for questioning, though the death was labelled a freak accident and an officer drove me back to my mother’s house.

I confess that I do not mourn my step father's death, however the circumstances of it chill my bones and blood. Every night I dream of water, his face gasping for air, my hands around his neck, holding him under and then I wake up, gasping for air as though I was drowning myself.

I have never returned to the sea since that day, for I always feel a malevolence watching me from beneath the waves, waiting patiently for when the sea will rise, I return to its clutches and it can rule the world once more.