This project took a while only because I worked on it whenever I had the chance and a good opportunity for cool shots came along. This is a twist on my short story called, "The Red Cloud Affliction" which was published in the 3rd Issue of Darkened Horizons. For those of you who have read the short story, you'll recognize some things, while those of you who haven't, I hope this peeks your interst into reading my short story. Once you read it and go back to watch the video, things will start to click, and other things might even make you rethink certain events. Enjoy:
You can buy the issue here: http://www.darkenedhorizons.com/
Videos like these are projects I will try to do for every short story or novel that I get published. Sometimes just the right push will get someone interested, you know?
It was always a common inquiry of " Why the warring?", " Why the killing?", and " Who was winning what?". Roderick thought he knew why he became a soldier. He thought he had passion toward protecting his country. The fact of the matter was, it turned his stomach.
He fought in a scheme that appeared nothing more than a back and forth game of tug-a-war, only, it had been going on far too long. No ground was gained. Only lives were lost. And many were of the opinion such losses were a pointless accumulation. Yet, no one could stop fighting. Not while the enemy remained a threat. Besides, the enemy was a mixture of giant serpents and wild beasts. These were things that were seen as nothing but killers, things no one had ever seen before or could hope to understand.
Roderick wanted out. He couldn’t stand watching his fellow soldiers get devoured right before his eyes in such a bestial manner. However, whenever he took his revenge, he gagged every time he pulled the trigger and watched animal flesh explode. And something else had come at them too, something that looked like trees, only, they had skinny arms and legs. Their tops made of branches and leaves might as well been their hair while they had dark black holes drilled into the bark just underneath the branches for eyes. Nothing was more disturbing than watching an animated tree run about and actually try to kill people.
Most of the attacks came from the ravine between the two large mountains just to the southeast. The majority of the soldiers wanted to close off the entrance to the ravine. This would undoubtedly hinder the enemy. Yet, headquarters wouldn’t allow it. They said they were unsure of the situation, but that was the extent of their reasoning. So, the army just sat outside the entrance in the vast forested plain.
The attacks came so frequent from the ravine that the army no longer watched the south or northern fronts. Home was to the west, and the enemy had yet to try and circle around them. The animals liked to come straight at them without fear. Between battles, the army sat in their camp watching the entrance to the ravine. Several times Roderick would glance up to the tops of the two mountains. The first time he looked, he noticed the small bridge connecting the two peeks but never thought anything of it. However, this time he actually saw a dot like a person’s head peeking over the edge. He watched this dot drift along the edge as if this person was walking, and then it disappeared behind the side.
Was it a spy? He couldn’t really settle with that notion. The enemy were too animalistic, too rabid, too random to organize any real plan other than to attack head on. Besides, the dot seemed too little to be a beast. So, what was a human doing up there? What part of the country were they from? Who did they stand for?
When the army was setting up for their new plan, Roderick snuck away through the trees. He ventured enough distance where he felt safe from being noticed. Then, hoping that none of the enemy would come this far South of where the army was, he traveled for the southernmost mountain.
It was an arduous climb to the top. In light of the time it took him, he began to wonder if anyone realized he was not among their ranks. Nevertheless, he was determined to find out who so casually watched them from the safety of that bridge.
When he finally reached the top, he was still blanketed by the forest. Straight ahead, daylight exposed an opening. Stepping out of the forest, he found himself on the flat surface at the top of the southern mountain. Never before did he feel so energized to be this far above the ground. Already, this perspective had won him over.
He looked North and saw the bridge. It was old, but appeared very sturdy. Now that he stood at its southern end, he gathered he miscalculated the size. It was wider than expected. There was no dip in the middle. It was fixed in a straight line all the way over to the northern peek. The walkway was made out of long boards discolored with age, but nailed tightly together. The walls were planks of wood fastened side-by-side and bordered on the bottom by fat posts laid down like a segmented line, while the top was made of thick dry rope frayed and discolored with age.
Judging the distance from one end of the bridge to the other, Roderick estimated about sixty feet. The inside walls of the ravine had no slant to them. And, it just so happened this bridge was built right above the entrance to the forested plain.
His first step onto the wooden base of the bridge was awkward. No matter how sturdy it looked, it was still very old. Confident now, he ventured further at a curious pace. A strange smirk stretched across his face the further he traveled the bridge. The sheer height of the mountains being lapped by cool winds that brushed through his hair pushed him on the verge of laughing. With a vast world underneath him, all the tiny encampments and the maze-like forest presented like an open map, there was a reward to be claimed in his effort to come here.
Lost to the disclosure of things more gratifying, the toe of his boot connected with an obscurity in his path. He looked down to see a small crate there. On the top surface there was lettering of a different language in black paint. This, coupled with the sound of sliding metal, informed him of his true reason for being here. Straight ahead and along the right wall of the bridge, what looked to be a mound of blankets shifted to the left and then grew in height. From the top of these blankets, a head came up. This person had brown wavy hair in a style that Roderick gathered was a woman’s. Perhaps she was an older woman. He based this assumption on her bent stature and stout girth underneath the blankets. She stood blocking his view of seeing what it was she was doing. Yet, her casual activity drew him to the other objects in the area. Just ahead to his right was a humble setup of a thick sheet propped up from within and anchored down at each corner to resemble a tent. Another crate sat opposite the woman along the left wall. It was smaller than the first crate that stopped him. Laying on top of this crate was a set of small bronze binoculars. The crate could have been a pedestal to aid her crooked posture so she could see over the side. And the binoculars, it seemed she wanted to be right there with her subjects.
She shifted more to the left, and he was able to see the stone base supporting the top half of a cage. The thin metal bars that created the silver prison were packed tightly together. Perhaps it used to be a bird cage. Nevertheless, she had severed the cage in half and sat the stubbed end onto the stone. Held within the cage now was a set of burning coals. On top of the cage sat an old grayish pitcher.
He smirked, finding her very resourceful. No doubt she was heating some tea or some water. He figured it would only be polite to engage her in conversation.
" The army will notice the smoke," he said.
She jumped up dropping a small tin cup to the floor and stumbled backward. The blankets slipped and fell from her shoulders. She stood upright in a healthy and youthful manner. Her brown hair brushed vibrantly across her shoulders and her cheeks were flushed with a lively pink. Pausing with big bright eyes, she put a hand to her brow and began laughing sheepishly, " Oh! Wow! An actual soldier!"
Finding his assumptions of her age wrong sent a rush of warmth through his body. He may find they share more of a relatable position in conversation than he thought.
" I didn’t mean to alarm you," he reassured her.
She put her hand to her chest and was heaving with a chuckle, " Hooo boy! Are you coming to arrest me or something?"
" No, no," he said, " nothing of the sort. I was....I was just curious,"
" Curious?" she asked, calm now.
" I thought I noticed someone up here so I came to see," he explained.
" Ah!" the woman breathed. Her gaping smile never diminished, " well, I’m so glad you decided to come by,"
She bent down and retrieved her cup, " I’m making tea. Would you like some?"
" Actually, that would be great," he said. Warm tea sounded like Heaven to him right now.
" Good!" she cheered and rushed over to the little tent. She disappeared inside, rummaged about with clangs and zipping noises until reappearing with a cup identical to hers.
" You know," she breathed on her way back to the make-shift stove, " I have to say this is the first time I’ve gotten a visitor. But, I’m surprised that it’s a soldier. What are you doing up here, anyway?"
He found her whimsical manner entertaining, yet, her question turned him toward the west. Seeing the entire world thrown out in front of him gave him pause. He walked to the edge and rested his arms there.
" Really," he began, " I came to see the view,"
" The view, huh?" she breathed and fanned the coals to a bright red.
" Yeah," he murmured captured by the sight.
The mountains stood as one world, while the rest was nothing but an endless forested plain fading into the horizon.
He was startled by her sudden appearance colliding into the side of the bridge. She was giving him a bright squinty grin, " desert your army?" she asked.
Really, he hadn’t decided that yet, " I’m more curious about what you’re doing here. Is this..." he looked back at the tent, " is this where you live?"
" Yeah," she said and put all her weight on the side of the bridge. She lifted her feet from the floor and began to kick them up and down, " but it’s not where I was born,"
" Where is your hometown?" he asked.
" It’s a village a good distance away," she hummed, " You know? It happens to be just outside the border of these battlefields,"
" In which direction?" he gasped.
" To the south," she answered, " it’s a simple place. I led a simple life there. As a kid, I was told about the war. All the kids were told about it,"
" What were you told?" he asked. The fact she heard stories when she was a kid reminded him just how long this war had been raging.
" Just how the two races were fighting," she answered, " but not much else was said. Everyone else could settle with that, but not me,"
" What do you mean?" he asked.
" I was curious," she began, " you know, about how the war was actually going. So, I moved out here to keep up with things. It sounds kind of crazy, I know, but it didn’t take me long to get used to this kind of lifestyle. I thrive on the wilderness,"
While the wilderness thrived on his army, he thought.
" I don’t mean to brag," she continued, " but I can’t really say many people from my hometown could live out here by themselves,"
He admired her devotion to a cause, " If you traveled this far, why don’t you make that next step?"
" What do you mean?" she asked.
" It might sound scary," he began, " but why don’t you join us against the creatures. I mean, you don’t have to fight, but you seemed to have obtained an unexpected advantage that could help us out. You’d be sort of like reconnaissance,"
" What is reconnaissance?" she asked tilting her head to the side.
He chuckled and searched for his words, " Uh, you’d sort of be like a spy. Since you’ve been watching things from up here, maybe you could, like, give us a signal when you see the enemy coming down the ravine. That way, we’ll be ready,"
She listened with big child-like eyes focused hard on his every word. When she said nothing, he moved the conversation along, " Well, are you interested? You’ll be fed. You won’t have to worry about having to thrive off the wilderness all the time,"
" But," she finally spoke, " what...what would I have to do?"
" Just give us the signal," he said.
" That’s it?" she asked and choked on a gasp of laughter.
" Yeah," he said.
" Sounds easy," she said.
" It is," he agreed.
" But, what about the scary part?" she asked, her brightness fading for the first time.
" Huh? Oh," he gathered himself, " since we won’t always know when the enemy comes, you might be down there with us when an attack comes,"
" Why would I be down there?" she asked.
" Well," he smirked, " to eat, and meet the commander,"
" Hmmm," she hummed and glanced back at the pitcher on the stove, " go down there, huh?"
He frowned, " what is it?"
" I’d, uh, like to help, and all," she said continuing to stare at the pitcher, " but I don’t want to risk my life like that,"
" Risk your....?" he questioned, " oh, no, you’ll be safe. There are hundreds of soldiers around. You’ll be protected,"
" Yeah, but," she said and stepped away to the other side of the bridge, " that’s not what I came here for,"
" But..." he turned and she was bending down to the stove, " I just thought....when you said...."
" I said I was curious," she corrected him. She was filling her and his cups from the pitcher, " I just want to watch your army win, that’s it,"
Her true attitude was like cold needles stabbing him in his spine. She stood, turned with both cups in her hands, and wore a smile that was devoid of any apologetic gesture, yet spoke in great length about her adamant decision to be nothing but a spectator.
" Your army has fought in this area several times before," she said handing him the extra cup of tea, " and every time, I’ve watched. I’ve cheered for you. I’ve even had a moment of silence when I know some of your men have died. I’ve seen it happen, but you guys keep fighting. I’m so proud,"
" Proud?" he snapped.
" Yes," she said, oblivious she cut him with her words, " no matter how awful the enemy is, you guys keep going. I admire that. You keep doing what you’re doing because those...monsters don’t belong here. They all need to be destroyed. Every last one of them. So, good job, mister,"
For a moment, neither of them spoke. While she gazed out over the endless sea of trees, he was unable to think of the first word to say. He thought of how she spoke of the courage his men showed no matter how horrible the circumstances. Yet, he knew she had no clue just how horrid the circumstances were. She didn’t know that most of the men cried out for their loved ones right before they died. She couldn’t see how scared the soldiers were when the creatures attacked. She couldn’t hear the ones who stared death in the eye muttering the names of their family members in their sleep. She couldn’t understand how tired and miserable they were down in that camp.
" It’s funny," she spoke with a dazed expression painted by the sun, " you mentioned I could be a spy and signal you when the enemy is coming. You were right. I can tell whenever they’re coming. Every time. You know how? Because of the echoes bouncing down through the ravine walls,"
He straightened and focused on the east through the two mountains. Somewhere, along the currents of the wind, he caught the sound of scratching. This sound grew like the approach of a raging storm. As it neared, he knew this was the sound of the many creatures charging down through the ravine. He could almost picture their numbers in his mind.
" We never heard this down on the ground," he whispered to himself, but she heard him.
He bolted over to the other side of the bridge and clung to the edge. The shadowy path below suddenly darkened with the many bodies of the creatures. They were running straight for the entrance to the forested plain. When they disappeared underneath the bridge, he ran to the other side and watched them spill out into the plain.
" I hope your army wins," she said at his side. Her interest upon the situation below differed greatly from his. Where she appeared to be observing some sports game, he was fearful for his comrades. Yet, all the tension in his body left at a sudden thought.
" I wouldn’t worry," he told her.
" Why?" she asked.
" The enemy is walking right into a trap," he said. He then pointed at a spot in the trees toward the north and only a mile or so away from the ravine entrance, " there," and then he pointed a short distance south of this spot, " and there. Can you see them?"
When she focused hard on the spots he showed her, she straightened with a gasp.
" Yeah," he chuckled, " our guys have formed two lines facing each other. They have cannons ready for the creatures when they come through that spot,"
" How do you know they’ll go for that spot?" she asked eagerly.
" Because our General took it upon himself to play as the bait," he answered. Then, he pointed with a gasp, " Look! You can see him running there,"
She spotted the running General a distance in front of the mob of creatures. They were following him right in between those lines just like he planned.
" Oh wow!" she gasped, " I can’t believe that! He’s got to be scared out of his mind!"
" You have no idea," he said, " no one wanted him to do it, but he said this was what they had left since headquarters gave us nothing. The General is a good man. That took guts for him to do,"
As he explained the enactment of the trap, he felt his grip on the edge of the bridge tightening and his body froze with excitement. He nearly jumped and kicked his heels together when he saw the first line of the creatures enter the area in which the two lines of soldiers surrounded. He wanted to throw up his fist with a loud cheer as he saw the General escape the surrounded area, but he held his tongue letting nothing prevent the plan from being successful. When the General was safe, there was a shout and he and the girl on the bridge jerked as the two rows of cannons rang out across the field. The attack came as a quick succession of blasts. Then, there was a silence that gripped he and the girl with so much tension they could have fallen over with the shock.
Now, the forested plain was covered by a dark gray canopy of smoke. The winds grabbed the cloud and took it at a slow stride toward the west. Roderick felt his body tingling now that all that tension was gone. He propped himself against the edge of the bridge with a smile.
She was still trying to gather the outcome of the plan. When she grew frustrated with her ignorance, she turned to him, " So? Did they do it? Did they win?"
" Yeah," he sighed.
" Yes! Yes! Woohoooo!" she jumped up and down and threw her fist in the air, " they did it! That was awesome! That was a good plan!"
Her excitement at the development disturbed him. He was too busy holding on to his relief in the fact that the trap went according to plan. But, thinking back on the whole scene, he had to admit it felt different watching the creatures fall in the trap from a distance. It felt completely different than being the one with the responsibility of springing the trap on the creatures. The whole time he watched them chase after the General, he knew the creatures were going to die. Knowing that, knowing someone’s fate, and watching it being played out did give him some strange kind of thrill. And the shameful part of it all was that it didn’t even turn his stomach.
" Now! See?" the girl panted as she found her balance on both feet, " your men got those monsters! They were slaughtered like the freaks they are! I hope they saw death coming!"
Her demented outlook toward the enemy caused him to take another look at the perspective she and he stood at. As he deduced earlier, she had no clue what he and his men faced down there. She knew nothing of fighting in a war. All she saw was two teams pitted against each other and she was cheering for her team hoping anything bad would happen to the opposing team. When he flipped that around, what would someone cheering for the other team be thinking right now? Even better, how would he think if he was one of those creatures unknowingly marching into the trap? Would he feel like a freak being slaughtered? Would he want to see death coming?
He knew he might have made a grave mistake during his moment of feeling thrill at watching the trap being played out.
" You know," he said, " it might come to you as a surprise, but those creatures could have families as well,"
" What?" she asked.
" They could have families," he repeated, " and desires....just like the men in my army,"
" Do those things even have the concept of what the word family means?" she asked with a laugh.
" Maybe not the same as we do," he admitted, " but, just like we care about the safety of our comrades in our ranks, I wouldn’t be surprised that those creatures watch out for each other. At least showing some type of compassion,"
" While they’re out there eating your men?" she questioned.
" At the same time," he countered, " we’re blowing them away. It’s the same thing,"
She propped herself against the edge and gave him a smirking sideways glance, " You know, you’re starting to sound as if you don’t like the idea of killing at all,"
He couldn’t suppress the sudden urge to explode into laughter, " the thought turns my stomach,"
" You don’t have to go back there," she said, " you could run away. I mean, for real, run away,"
" Just like that, huh?" he chuckled.
" Yeah," she said, " you could find some place to live if your home town is fighting the war. You could join me. You could live here. We could help each other,"
" It would be that easy, huh?" he asked still choking with laughter, " no one would notice us up here?"
" The two sides hate each other so much they could care less about anyone else," she explained, " we’re safe up here. Just like my village,"
He quenched his need to laugh and then regarded her with a dazed grin, " Let me tell you a quick story. Let me tell you how blood thirsty the creatures are and that any chance to eat a human they could get, they would take it,"
She didn’t understand his meaning, " and?"
" So, my army is actually keeping your village safe by throwing our own guys at the enemy," he explained. He wasn’t smiling anymore, " Basically, people are dying so your village can stay oblivious,"
She didn’t know what to say to him. It was like she had been scolded. She finally broke the awkward silence with her child-like demeanor, " So, I guess that means you’re not staying,"
He just shook his head while watching the giant body of smoke slow dancing across the tree tops toward the west.
She cast her eyes to the ground, bit her bottom lip, and nodded. Then, she left the edge of the bridge and went over to the stove. She picked up the pitcher and listened to the hot tea filling her tin cup. When she sat the pitcher down, she turned facing Roderick and just stood there.
" You mind if I ask you something?" she said and swirled the tea in her cup.
He finally turned to face her, " go ahead,"
Her whimsical flare returned, yet at only a fraction of what she presented earlier, " Why did you really come up here?"
He realized he had to think on that question. When he found his answer, he turned back to gaze upon the battlefield below, " I think....I just needed to see the war from a different perspective. Now I think I understand a little more why I became a soldier,"
Then, he sipped on his tea.
After a moment of silence, she was curious, " you’re not going back down?"
He lifted his tin cup while continuing to gaze over the battlefield, " I was just going to finish this. Even a soldier needs a moment, you know?"
He entered their presence like a whisper among gaudy laughter and disgruntled conversations. Such a force had little presence, but he hunched at an angle that was too uncomfortable to ignore. When they looked, the large black case he carried did not take him from a whisper, but rather brought the others to a mystified silence. Despite this change, he continued in his melancholy trudge and took a seat that happened to stand out from the others. His solemn act of placing the case down at his side and opening it was not meant to attract the attention produced. But, they were further confounded as he woke the guitar from its slumber. With one hand, he hugged the instrument close. With the other, he moved as though to ruffle his hair, but his fingers found a pick hidden from some unknown portal.
He strummed the strings, and the guitar moaned gripping the throats of all who listened. In this haunting melody, there was a clue as to why the guitarist never lifted his head. A sorrow deprived him of his pride to look another person in the eye. But, from some hidden depth, his voice beckoned his audience. He had a tale to share.
" She was a bright,
how would one say it,
a joyful flower,
Reaching up absorbing the sun
to have the purest of a yellow hue,
And what majesty!
One could not ignore,
with a radiance,
a sensational plume,
that drew the world in,
by the most humble of means:
a daisy,
And her surroundings reflected her lust for life,"
His audience's initial response was one of humorous conjecture. Eventually, they saw past their criticism, and this description was understood to be of a woman. But, they couldn't fathom the reason behind the lamented style which he chose to sing.
" And then the hummingbird,
curious of her nectar,
but would dare not stain this beauty
to satisfy his craving.
Nary he express his request.
Yet, his awkwardness she did notice,
thus his desire is exposed.
Surely a hummingbird desires the daisy's nectar,
but her nectar is only for one she deems worthy.
Yet, of the hummingbird she would inquire:
Does he harbor intentions that spite respect,
or is he a gentleman?
Is the nectar for himself,
or does he want to share?
So, the hummingbird must shine,
for he loves to shine just as she.
So, he shines and dances the song of the wind,
for a good soul understands the flow,
while insistence is abrasive.
To his delight,
she smiles,
and his world alights.
But, alas,
that radiance demotes him,
and she is greater,"
Her description made his audience smile, and through his talent, they humbled themselves in her presence.
" But to the locust,
radiance has no influence.
Only hunger fascinates him,
the devouring of flesh is a sport,
and nectar tastes bland,
unlike the petal,"
The symbolism of the locust struck a chord of one in the audience. His eyes took him to the right, and he saw a familiar man wearing a tattoo of the locust.
" Yet, the hummingbird knows
the value of nectar overshadows her petals.
If only he could obtain the title
that gives him a place in her realm.
A panic shuts him off
to any other path,
So, he clings to what he knows,
and repeats his efforts,
but this has lost significance,
and he gains no ground.
He asks himself:
How can the locust
be ignorant of the obvious difference,
from his world to hers?
But maybe he isn't
as he compliments her petals,
a blatant observation
of the elegant stature of her world.
To the hummingbird's dismay,
she listens with a smile.
That same smile that brightened his world,
is now a hope for some other
once less fortunate realm.
So, the hummingbird flies away,
both inspired and jealous,
in the confidence displayed
by the locust.
And like the cry of the banshie,
the gun shot that saved Paul Revere,
the daisy screamed.
The mask thrown off,
true intentions be revealed,
the locust began to devour
the petals of the daisy.
No barrier of peer inflicted esteem,
no subtle reaction to social practice centuries old,
could bar him from rescuing the flower.
Yet, reality is sometimes cold,
when one repressed hero
dares against the odds,
the frigid pierce of fundamental consequence
takes down the tower of pride
by pulling but one stone,
as the hummingbird is held captive by the locust's imps.
Like one witnessing an inverted crucifix,
or desecrating a hallowed place with the unbaptized dead,
He witnessed the rape of the Aster!
The audience grew concerned as the story unfolded but now felt incredible dismay. There was one, the man with the locust tattoo, who, instead of sharing these feelings, grew more curious by the song.
" The strength of a hummingbird,
the allure of a hummingbird,
is found in the dizzying blur of its wings.
There is where he found his hope,
to cast the imps away.
The hero awakes,
righteousness blinds the wicked,
and the locust flees
accompanied by his imps.
But, no trumpet of victory sounds,
no feeling of resolution
is felt that assures a fighting soul,
he conquered evil's game.
For the daisy no longer bore,
the beauty of her petals.
If one could travel
to the four corners of the earth,
and discover all the knowledge in the world,
they could not give him an answer,
that would explain
the Corruption of the Aster.
The sun is gone,
depressed by the sight,
that majesty dethroned,
the world can not revere,
no plume upright,
the yellow hue has faded.
Nectar is spoiled,
a petal has its worth,
in her eyes
the unveiling of the perianth
exudes her lack of worth,
emptiness takes over.
Emptiness leads to sadness,
and sadness lacks the will to heal,
the wounds inflicted by the locust's teeth,
snuffs out her light completely.
The sun will never to rise again,
" Alerted to the curse upon the land,
others arrive to see the tragedy.
The hummingbird being the only witness,
is instantly put into question,
for everyone knows
the hummingbird's hunger for nectar.
In conjecture,
they assume the story
how the daisy did not want to share
her nectar with the hummingbird,
so the hummingbird took it,
his craving devoid of any demarcation,
and tore away any petal
that stood in his way.
Blame needed a head
to brand its seal,
and his was used for the title.
Not only was the worth stricken away
from the daisy in such a lethal manner,
but the Hummingbird lost it all,
by bearing the sin
of the one who stole
the sun from the sky,"
" Yet, in spite of this judgement
by his peers,
his spirit had but one spark left,
hidden away
from those who would know
of his secret revenge
for the one who soiled the Aster,"
The guitarist, having brought the story to a close, left his guitar to moan a sad melody by itself. Touched by the story, his audience began to consider the validity of the tale. They spoke in whispers to respect the reverent moment wrought so skillfully by the guitarist.
" I wonder," some one dared to speak aloud.
They all looked, and the man with the locust tattoo wore a smile that mocked the solicitude of the room.
" How true are you to that so called revenge you spoke of," he challenged.
The guitarist gave no response and remained in his melancholy hunch. To this, the challenger frowned, " are you listening, boy?"
Receiving nothing, the challenger stomped his way forward, " I said, what of your revenge now?"
He stood before the hunched guitarist, and all those behind him could see the locust tattoo on his arm.
Still, the guitarist said nothing.
The arrogant man's grin widened, and he laughed, " Look at you, squirt. You've been reduced to nothing but a loser singing the blues,"
Then, the melody of the guitar came to an abrupt stop. Slowly, the hummingbird raised his head and faced the locust.
" The locust was bound
to continue in his ways,
and karma
always at his heels,
finally caught up to him.
Yet, in this place
that suits him well,
he would have never guessed
the ultimate taboo,"
All those men in the audience stood to their feet and looked upon the locust with rage. When he turned, those men, dressed alike in green and white striped garbs, his peers, his world, bore dark glares upon him. The steel bars and cold concrete floor offered no way out, no mercy either.
" Unforgivable," they growled.
No mercy was spared as they pounced upon him in this world with no way out. Only the guitarist was spared, as the guards came to escort him out. Eventually, the locust was taken away only to be charged with a crime to lengthen his stay.
As for the bashful hummingbird, losing a woman, won in the end because he was brave.
Upon the new year of this golden and vibrant nation, the King stood upon one of the balconies of his castle that overlooked the city. Below, the streets, the bridges, the rooftops, and the parks were crowded with the nation's citizens. Along with the king, as one they gazed up into the infinite night sky that held all the mysteries of the cosmos. They waited.
As expected, the celestial being appeared over their city like a beacon of fantastic power. No other star could match its presence. This was the moment everyone was waiting for.
The King wore a heavy expression of sadness. The usual peace he experienced during the previous visitations of this celestial being was replaced by a haunting loss. As the celestial being descended, he spoke words that only he could hear, but were spoken toward the visitor.
" Why?" he asked in confusion, " I wonder why this is actually happening? Why did I agree to such an act?"
The celestial being was a cherished acquaintance of the nation and a dear friend of the king. His name was Zahn, and he was a power granted from the heaven's themselves. Yet, the giant cannon below the King's feet was aimed at Zahn.
" I need you to try and understand," the king urged his soaring friend, " or at least be fortunate enough to be ignorant of what is happening. Just keep falling in a downward spiral...like always,"
Then, he heard his nation cry out toward the visitor in one voice, " Burn!"
Tears came to the King's eyes in light of the treachery in all this. This event was falsely titled as one that condemned the advent being. For all the times before, Zahn was welcomed. He came bearing gifts of news and stories that touched the most tender parts of the heart. He was a performer of awe-inspiring shows. His presence was like that of no other. What a glorious light he adorned.
However, such flare bore disquieting fruit.
There was no mistaking in how Esther, the king's wife, looked upon Zahn during those occasions. With such knowledge the king's perspective upon Zahn's performances was altered. Jealousy caused the king to surmise Zahn's actions influential under Esther's watch. This in turn lessened the king's significance.
" It is Janice!" the king's advisor declared to the people.
Janice was a trickster whom Zahn encountered during his travels through the cosmos. The trickster desired to be the best performer among all the celestial beings. Zahn revealed that Janice was only a demon posing as an angel in order to obtain his desire. The story went that Janice eventually died by Zahn's hands when an attempt was made against this golden nation. Zahn accomplished this with the giant weapon now positioned below the king's feet. Zahn named the cannon " Coup de grace" to signify the merciful death he gave to Janice's tortured soul. He gave the cannon to the king which played as a trophy in the eyes of the nation. However, the king knew Zahn did this only because Zahn was not a being that desired to deliver death.
" Not only your pain ends today, my King," his advisor declared, " but the nation's as well,"
For all the riches and beauty found in this nation, the people were thirsty for Zahn's performance. The king's advisor argued that this fact was a strike against the government as well as the economy. The people lost sight of their responsibilities.
Zahn took them to other worlds in the words he spoke. He gave advice. He gave hope.
Fueled by Esther's lust and the advisor's persuasion, the King ordered the Cannon to be used by the one man whom Zahn instructed in the weapon's controls.
To have such power as the force wielded by this weapon at his fingertips, the man could not refuse this chance.
In order for this deceitful act to see form, the advisor persuaded the king to change the truth about what the people knew. So, the king declared to the people that it was Zahn who died at Janice's hands and this cannon was given in preparation for this day.
What a horrible lie the king spoke, but he no longer wanted to hear of Zahn's fantasy world that mesmerized his people.
The command was given, " Fire!"
The castle jerked under his feet and the massive cylindrical weapon bucked. A bolt of light escaped from the mouth of the cannon and brightened the sky with its brilliance.
Both this blast and the radiance that was Zahn connected and transformed into something less than beautiful. A bulging shape of orange and red snuffed out the alabaster advance of the celestial performer.
" Boring!" the people of the nation branded the infamous Janice who, in their eyes and understanding, fell toward the Earth in defeat.
" You're boring! You're boring!" they chanted in victory over the one who would replace their beloved Zahn.
The king was overwhelmed by shame.
As he watched Zahn fall, the king knew this was a performance in itself. Zahn was a daredevil challenging the laws of nature in a brilliant infernal display. In these last few moments, the king wished him the best.
" Shine on," he whispered in appeal.
When Zahn fell, the nation cheered.
The king stood alone above the giant cannon thinking back on the event that transpired.
" Why did all this happen? Why did it come to this?" he wondered. Then, he began to hope, " Please understand," he told Zahn, " if you can. Somehow, I hope you understand,"
After all, Zahn's actions were becoming questionable. The entire nation was blinded by a fantasy.
" Despite your hopeful words," the king explained, " and despite the paradise this nation is, none could possibly live in the fantasy you created with your words,"
In the aftermath, the people of the nation found the body of the fallen celestial being. There, they found the truth. Outraged, they revolted against the government for dispatching their beloved entertainer. The advisor, the serpent tongue in the king's ear, betrayed the king claiming to be a victim of manipulation.
The king, not wanting to die by the hands of his people, went into exile for the sole purpose of paying for his crime against a dear friend. After all, his wife, Esther, killed herself after hearing the news. Whether or not she did this because Zahn was dead, or her husband was believed to be executed, the king never knew. That would just be one of the mysteries he would mull over during his era of penance.
To insure his rise to the throne, the advisor gave the people the identity of the man who fired the cannon. They hunted him down and publically executed him for his treachery. Now, the advisor was the new king and began to plan the future of this nation based upon his desires.
He sat alone in his quarters relishing in his position when a cold wind filtered in through the window at his back. When he turned, he froze in horror. Zahn appeared from the shadows of the curtains as a damned soul due to the firing of the cannon.
" This can not be!" the new king gasped. " Even if it is you, a demon can not enter here! This, you yourself promised!"
" The realm of the celestial plain is far beyond your comprehension," Zahn spoke darkly,
" Know this: you will suffer for as long as you intended me to suffer. I myself will personally see to your protection. No one will be able to harm you and you will not be able to harm yourself. I will call upon the plagues to devastate this nation. This paradise you so desired will deteriorate and you will bare witness to every moment,"
Then, Zahn turned and stepped toward the window. Solid white wings appeared and unfolded from his back. They spread and he ascended.
Create a free website at Webs.com