I really don't have a title for this short narrative I suppose it could be labeled. I'm posting it, mostly to throw something out into the forum and test the waters of the site. I wrote three unrelated sentences one day and then picked my favorite of them and wrote a small bit about it.
The sentence in this case was "I saw burning hollow lidless eyes that would steal the heart of man". What you are about to read, by the way, was written in 2007 and has never been edited or taken through more then its first and rough draft. I post it now, exactly as it appeared the day I wrote it back in 07.
I saw burning hollow lidless eyes that would steal the heart of man, upon loose skin and rotted flesh clinging to their bones, these dark orbs stole from me, my courage and breath. I saw in them hate for all things… pain, so much they had… and had to give.
Low moans carried upon fell winds where shadows move and darkness glides, following its wake, drawing upon fell horses, naught but of bone, came these rotted manifestations of sorrow. They moved with speed unlike their frail frames would guise, carried upon the very wings of the devil. Deep within unlife stirred, animated and kept by their scorn and anger for the living, they marched… they traveled the lands, and burning all in their wake.
Great men and mighty armies clashed time and time again, upon the earth, only to be pushed back by this deathless army. To this foe men had considered vanquished, only to learn… death had no place in their existence. They marched and marched, carried upon evil deeds and hells fury. All who were consumed joined them… Lost forever in their hate. Forced to march… to destroy.
The world stood upon the very brink of destruction, the last great battle of the living and the dead, was about to be decided upon a field of flowers, rolling plains of emerald green, speckled with whites and blues. It was here men united made their last valiant attempt at stopping a deathless foe… an army of the damned.
Here it was, a hero to arise, wielding a hallowed saber, struck at the dead, as they pushed forever onward, seeming not to stop, seeming only to rise, as they came without end. Forever striking on as the last gallant forces of man began to dwindle.
Calling out to idle gods, and passive deities, a lone hero stood upon a hill calling the names of all they served… all they knew. Beseeching for help, asking for light and life. For a chance… for the mean, for hope.
As if in answer of a prayer, dark clouds rolled back, and silver light shone through upon this bloody battlefield of death and suffering. Standing alone and broken a hero… who at their hand was felled the original contriver of this hatred.
As its bones turned black and body gave way, its soul was laid to rest and all was at peace again. The broken hero’s tears did so weep and fell to hallow earth. The ground forever a marker of hope, and a reminder of the courage of one… the power of the heart. Their body was broken, their soul free… they found their peace, with the dead.
And there you have it - you may post whatever you wish about it; I shall read and respond to any and all comments as I can.
