ktmarkley

[ktmarkley]

A Bat In Starlight

      A shadow crossed the crystal moonlight pouring through the open window. The occupants of the room lay peacefully dormant with blankets pulled up to the shoulder against the cool of the night. Had they not been so unconscious they may have heard the scrape of claws against the window sill or caught a glimpse of the phantom that had entered their home. Merging with the shadows of the room the vampire lurked toward his hapless prey only re-entering the moonlight as he approached the bed. His bulk cast a shadow across the sleeping couple. The young woman who lay just below him stirred causing her long flaxen hair to shift and brush past her neck. Moving his arm, he allowed a single ray of moonlight to alight on the now exposed skin. His gruesome mouth unhinged to allow two long fangs to emerge. Before he could feast, however, a whisper stopped him. He turned, claws out, looking for danger. Seeing none, he turned back to his meal but again found himself caught off guard. It was not an intruder that stopped him but an ardent thought. A feeling that had broken through the insistent hunger to invade the forefront of his mind; he envied this mortal slumbering undisturbed.

     What did this human have that would strike him so jealous? He was an immortal child of the blood: a vampire! Children lay in their beds terrified beyond sleep from stories of his evil, and grown men quaked at his visage. Yet looking down at the woman and her husband beside her a sense of envy again struck him. He left the bedside allowing the moon to once again keep its watch over the couple and sat in an armchair in the corner of the room. The ceaseless hunger pulled at his mind, but he was resolved to discover the source of his misgivings. This mortal had so little. She lived in a small cottage in a poor village. He had made his home in an abandoned castle on the peak of a mountain. She had most likely never traveled from her village and he had been to cities like Moscow, Berlin, and Paris. He had seen the sunset from mountain peaks thousands of times, and she could only hope to see eighty or ninety years. He was immortal! He had already outlived her a hundred times over. The vampire paused at that. He had not pondered the life span of a human since he had escaped its confines so long ago. Was that it? Did he desire death? With a shake of his elegantly straightened hair, he cast away thoughts of death and crossed the room to again stare at the young woman in the bed. However, something about her finite life stuck with him. There was a beauty to this young woman that he did not possess.

    The vampire looked down at the elegant gothic clothes with which he adorned himself. They were a farce he thought with spite. Why did he dress himself this way? Why did he care if his hair was clean and his chin well shaven? What prompted the elegant furnishings of a castle only he occupied? The trappings were meaningless and yet it comforted him to appear beautiful. In internal anguish, he turned to the window to gaze upon a full moon that stood distinct amid a backdrop of stars. There was a time the beautiful astral bodies would have captured his imagination. Yet now he found them dull. He turned next to the mountain that held his home. As a boy, had he not looked up at that mountain from this same village and been awestruck by its majesty? Had the many years stolen that feeling from him? A cool breeze blew through the window, ruffling the curtains, and tapping on his face; a reminder of the coming winter. He had felt this same breeze countless times, but now it made him think of the end of summer and filled his heart with melancholy. Was that what had stopped his fangs and sent him into this coiling void? Why did the concept of finality play at his mind so?

    His pondering was interrupted as a light streaked across the sky; a falling star that pulled him from confusion and towards understanding. How beautiful this cascading creature was as it made its final voyage. It was beautiful among its fellows, yes, but here in its last moments, it had shown brightest. There was a beauty in turning a page; that a thing would eventually fail to exist and be lost to the world forever made that thing all the more beautiful. Though in his bid of obtaining eternality the payment was his intrinsic beauty. He turned to the slumbering woman for a final time. She was beautiful in the moonlight. The vampire wondered what life she might live. Would she have children? Would she wander through the forests at the foot of his mountain never knowing the horror that visited her this night? Would she die after a life well lived surrounded by those she loved? Something in that passing of time and the certainty of an ending made her much more beautiful than any finery could ever make him. He turned from her, lamenting what he had lost, and she still claimed. Claws once again lightly scraping the sill as he passed.

[ktmarkley]

Hiding from the World

The mossy log is a seat always untaken.

The tinkling brook a symphony for all.

I sit among titans of leaf and bark;

That guard any who neath them wander.

The world buzzes, flys, and grows around me.

The ferns and mushrooms grow too, 

But they never insist I join them;

Never tapping a foot or looking at the time.

The forset is a refuge from the cult;

From the religion of busyness and deadlines.

A fortress of stone and dirt;

Always waiting patiently, agelessly. 

[ktmarkley]

The God of Broken Spears

Locked doors and cold concrete walls;

Where lost hearts and dark deeds are kept.

When I turn the key to enter in, on my shoulders a yoke falls.

I pass iron bars with feet that creep.

  I have forgotten that the light within me is not bound by earthly chains.

Magnetized locks and thick stone cannot keep Him out.

Daniel was not left abandoned against the lion’s fang;

Nor Elijah on the mount.

  My Shelter is present in a Whale’s belly;

He is strong when the city walls are weak.

I stride into the prison with an army.

I ride beside the Champion of the Meek.

  So, when words come to blows,

And when metal doors are pounding;

I will stand tall like Moses.

The God of broken spears is my founding.

[ktmarkley]

Shadows in the Sky

Mountains at night are lonely beings.

They keep their eternal vigil without complaint.

Silent black giants watching the world they tower over.

Graceful in their might and majestic tho grueling.

Their ward is the world and their charges man.

They rejoice when he succeeds and quake with his failure.

Tho they may be climbed they are never claimed.

Reaching their summit does not cause them to submit.

These gargantuan’s purpose is singular:

To show every human the height they may achieve,

And to remind them of the power in perseverance.

[ktmarkley]

Copper Cape

     From the misty waters of Copper Cape, a leviathan rose to the surface. Moonlight shined off the ink black scales of the sea creature. An unearthly yawn emanated from a mouth large enough to swallow a ship. Massive black eyes watch the beach lazily. What could have threatened him? He brought his finned tail to the surface and stretched it into the sky. The tail returned to the dark water with a splash like a thunderclap. Another yawn echoed across the cliff face. Its eyes, superior to any beasts on land or under the sea, spied the expected movement on the beach. Silently it watched the procession make its way to the edge of the white sand.

     A hundred members clothed in robes of black to mimic the scaled creature they worshiped stood in two parallel lines. A second group made a slow march towards the water. The second group was led by a man swinging a pot from which purple mist seeped. Behind him two guards; robes replaced with black scale mail and helmets lined with sharp points. With curved swords at their hips and long spears in their hands; they watched the beach for intruders on their most sacred of rituals. Behind them, the high priest clothed in an ornate robe. A crown, crafted from a scale of the Leviathan, rested on his aged brow. Old words of deep dark magic spilled from his lips. Prayers to demons and the beast they worshiped so devoutly. Behind him, carried by two members of the dark cult, across, and tied to it a woman, naked but for a white sheet wrapped around her light form. She struggled against the bonds that held her without mercy. Her blonde hair shined bright in the moonlight. Her beauty was true and pure, and the beast’s great eyes rested on her. Its belly rumbled in hunger for the beast had fasted several months for this unholy feast. Two final guards ended the procession.

     The maiden screamed, a desperate call for help into the dark night. As if in answer to the scream a roar echoed down the coast. Filled with rage and animosity the roar even called the attention of the Leviathan. The march stopped and all eyes turned down the beach. From the direction of the roar, a man came from out of the night. Sand churned at his leather-booted feet as he ran towards the cult members. He wore nothing else but hide pants and a belt across his massive chest. Every visible muscle bulged with iron like strength. On his back attached to the belt was an empty scabbard; for the blade it faithfully carried was in the man’s hand.  His hair was long and blonde; pulled into a loose ponytail. His chin was heavily stubbled from many days without shaving. He had murder in his brown eyes, and his sword hand was raised in anger; prepared to strike. The four guards were the first to react to the muscled man running at them. They gathered up their spears and charged him two by two. The lead guard learned quickly that the man before him was unlike any he had before faced. His sword stroke rocked the first guard’s helm. He crumpled to the ground unconscious. Seeing their kin felled so easily the three remaining guards held back and leveled their spears at their opponent. The warrior barbarian growled through clenched teeth. Every muscle tensed, and he pounced as a tiger would upon helpless prey. Knocking a spear tip away he landed among the surprised men leaving them unbalanced. The barbarian hacked down one guard and turned to the remaining two. Finding their spears useless in such close quarters the guardsmen drew their curved blades. Striking in unison the barbarian could only parry one deadly blade. Blood welled where the strike fell on the barbarian’s chest, but the pain and sight of his own blood only angered the warrior further. With the strength of the mighty elephants to the west, he carved at the two men. It was all they could do to parry the vicious onslaught. The soft sand made movement difficult, and soon enough both guards lost their footing and fell. The crazed barbarian fell on the first guard to hit the ground slaughtering him quickly. The second guard rolled over and attempted to gain his feet, but a strong hand held him fast. His balance was pulled from him and he fell to his face in the sand. He was killed before he could begin to rise.

     The cult watched the battle with awestruck terror, and as the gore covered man rose from the sand murmurs flew through the lines of worshippers.  The Leviathan had watched too, interested in the warrior that fought like a great cat. To it, humans had always been underlings; no more than cattle. This man however interested the sea creature. The attention of all in attendance was turned to the girl as she called to the man. Seeing her humiliation and preparation for sacrifice reignited the animalistic anger within the barbarian. He started towards the group again; this time stalking across the beach. The black-robed cult members felt cornered as mice.

The high priest, however, was not prepared to give up the ritual. He yelled to his followers to stop the man. The woman watched fearfully as her would be rescuer charged unholy gathering. With complete abandon, the barbarian forced his way through a hurricane of fists and kicks. His eyes were set on the woman. A hundred hands pulled at him, and he was held only feet from his goal; feet churning the soft sand. He strained against the arms that held him; his eyes on the woman unable to tear his gaze from her beauty. With a wild cry, he thrashed at his bonds twisting and wrenching his would-be captor’s grip from him. Raising his blade over his head he brought it down and down again. Where his sword fell, death followed. The barbarian hacked his way through the crowd as he would the tall grasses of his homeland. The cult members farthest from the deadly man began to flee. Soon they ran in droves before the death blade. Covered in the blood of his enemies and standing in a pile of several corpses the muscle-bound warrior turned to his remaining foe.

     The high priest stood with an ornate curved knife inlaid with jewels. If the ceremony had been conducted successfully, the knife would have been used to cut the victim’s heart from her chest. The cross, and the woman tied to it lay in the sand where its bearers had dropped it in their fear. The high priest raised the dagger defensively and called for the barbarian to stop his onslaught of death. The barbarian only growled and stepped towards the cultist. With each step, the barbarian took the high priest offered him a new bargain. The riches of the cult; his. A harem of beautiful women; there for the taking. A life of luxury served by the cult; his if he would only spare the high priest. As the warrior reached his enemy the man robed in the finest cloth; a man used to fine wines and the wealth of a king fell to his knees sobbing in fear. The barbarian did not even look down as he separated the cowardly priest’s head from his shoulder. Kneeling beside the fallen cross and its captive the barbarian cut the ropes that held her. She leapt into his arms ignoring the blood and gore. His strong hands held as her gently; as gently as he would a sparrow. Sheathing his blade; he lifted her with ease and walked from the beach.

     The leviathan had watched these events carefully; interested in this man who had slaughtered his followers so easily. As the two figures where lost from sight between the cliff sides, the unholy beast slipped back into its watery abode. This was not the first cult to worship him, and it would not be the last. He would seek out new souls to corrupt and twist. For he still hungered.