The rider in the storm

Posted on April 21, 2016 by Swor under Shorts, Tales of Ore

Image source unknown

Night. The darkest hour. When all hope disappears. Thunder is rumbling, the wind is howling madly. The grass on the hills is bending under the power of the storm. Rain is falling hard on the ground, plundering the earth. A dark shadow is moving. A horse is running, a rider on its back. Running as fast as it can, as if its life depended on it. Running as quick as the wind. He rides, never looking back, hoping they are okay. Praying to reach them in time. The world seems against him; as if the gods were mad at him. As if they had unleashed Hell on Earth. Droplets of water, as cold and hard as ice hits him in the face, rendering him unable to see more than a few meters in front of him.

Lightning strikes, once, twice, giving shape to the shadow of a ghost. A ghost from the past that is catching up on him. He knows he should run away but he can’t. He has to cope with that growing unease growing inside him. They need him! He has to get there at all cost! He has to make it, his steed knows it also. The mighty stallion gains speed, outrunning the heavy gusts of wind. Its mane buzzing frantically as it gains more speed, sparks forming around its legs. Getting bigger and more frequent with each new step. Suddenly it lights up in a thunderous boom, thousands of tiny lighting bolts coming out of its mane and its tail, covering its entire body. It gains even more speed, running so fast it outruns even the heavenly flashes. Cutting through the mad rain, leaving a burnt trail behind it. He runs an impossible race. A race for his friends. A race against time, against himself. A race against death…

Here is a text I wrote some time ago, a scene from one of my stories that I have had in mind for some time.

The Celestial Rift

Posted on March 12, 2016 by Swor under Shorts, Tales of Ore

Long ago, when the skies were still young and the earth was vast and wild, they reigned over everything that was.

The Sun, bright and powerful, was the king of Day, bringing warmth and power to all.

The Moon, softly glowing and graceful, was queen of the Night and mother in the dark sky.

Each of them was the ruler of an endless kingdom; they followed each other, dancing a never-ending dance.

But the Sun, even in his infinite brilliance and power, was jealous of the Moon and her soft beauty.

He saw the charming radiance of his nocturnal counterpart as an unequalled perfection, more beautiful than his own.

He therefore devised a plan to gain supremacy over the Moon. For days and nights he tirelessly worked to breathe life to a new creation.

On the fourth day he finished and on the fifth night he finally revealed his creation to the Moon.

As soon as the last lights of day vanished he released thousands upon thousands of shining jewels into the aether.

“I have named them Stars”, he said to the Moon as she curiously watched him unveil his work. “A gift for you my Lady.”

The Lady of the Night revelled in this newfound beauty and found herself unable to look away for a long moment.

Finally she praised the Sun for his marvellous work, enthralled by its magnificence.

“How shall I ever repay you for this infinite kindness my Lord?”, she finally asked.

The Sun replied it was a gift and therefore there was no need for repayment but the Moon insisted and the Sun replied he would think about it.

By the second day after his work had been completed the Sun returned to the Moon.

“There is no need for you to repay me other than with the joy I saw in you at the sight of my creation…”, the Sun said.

“But,” he continued as the Moon was about to protest once more, “if so is your wish then here is what I offer…”.

The Sun asked the Moon with giving ‘substance’ to the aether, a task he knew impossible, even for him.

Giving ‘substance’ to a void of substance so vast and dark was something unthinkable…

But the Moon in her excitement at the idea of being able to repay her counterpart, agreed with no reserve.

For many days and nights the Moon lay pensive, under the newly created shining dome that filled the sky, trying to solve the Sun’s unsolvable puzzle.

Finally, after what seemed like and eternity to her, she realized the only way to do it would be to use all her power.

It was a dangerous task, even for her, an astral being, but she was willing to try to repay the Sun’s kindness.

The Sun watched all of this with a fierce fire burning inside of him.

The Moon, once her task was decided, set on to complete it, just as the Sun, she tirelessly worked but for many more days and nights.

Her brilliance was even more beautiful and graceful as she worked hard on her task and the Sun couldn’t help but being captivated by it.

Finally her own creation was ready and she waited the following night to unveil it to the Sun.

The Sun, of course, had watched all of it and he knew the Moon had put all her heart and her soul into her work.

Her genuine will to repay him stirred a wave of remorse inside him as she was about to unveil her creation.

But it was too late, the Moon offered him the gift and the Sun had to accept it.

He opened it, releasing the newly created ‘substance’ into the aether and for a moment he thought she had succeeded.

He stared into the endless sky, amazed by the ocean of shimmering beauty that was spreading between the stars and filling the void.

The Sun almost wished that it didn’t stop and that it completed itself.

Unfortunately the magic didn’t last, it was not powerful enough, and the spell broke.

The ocean fell apart and faded into the void, leaving only a feeling of emptiness inside the Sun’s heart.

He turned to his nightly counterpart to comfort her, unable to withstand the wave of sadness he knew would fill her whole being but it was too late.

The tears had already rolled on the Lady of the Night’s ivory skin and she was pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“You set an impossible task for me,” she said in a voice as cold as ice, “you knew it was impossible and yet you still asked this of me.”

“My heart and soul went in this gift for you and yet you cannot be contempt… Your wish cannot be fulfilled…”

“I will remember this ’til eternity, the shame, the anger and the emptiness will never leave me…”

“Living with this knowledge will now be your burden, your curse… For I curse you to know the pain I feel!”, the Moon said before vanishing.

The Sun, for the first time since he could remember, felt something far greater than physical pain and far more real than excitement: regret.

He tried to help her but it was too late, the Lady of the Night was gone, her brilliance had faded away, her power was gone and her heart was empty.

Never did he see her smile or her pale grace tenderly wrap around the world again, the nights had gone dark and cold with only his creation to light them.

He could feel the regret, the anger and the bitterness that were slowly eating at her heart and consuming her but was cursed to be unable to help.

Another eternity seemed to pass as he waited, looking at the lost Lady who was now unable to shine her peace on the world and longing for her return.

She was but a lost child, wandering the sky without a purpose or a goal… longing for her lost radiance…

But it would never returned, it could never return. He had made sure of that he had thought up the task he would give her.

Nothing would ever be the same again. But what was all this power and brilliance if he couldn’t share it with her? His heart wanted to break a million times.

The Moon was consumed but her emptiness and her regret, slowly her heart turned dark with thoughts of revenge.

Making the Sun know and regret what he had done wasn’t enough anymore, she had lost it all. He also had to feel it…

She thought of many ways to get revenge but in her immense knowledge she knew of no solution… None she could use now at least…

Her despair was growing and she thought it was all lost, however the demon race offered her a pact.

Her brilliance and power restored in exchange for her blessing.

Blinded by pain and the prospect of revenge the Moon gave way to her hatred.

The demons taught her a powerful but complicated spell and helped her use it to restore her power.

She thought of having been betrayed once more when, once the spell done, nothing had changed.

But her power was indeed restored and slowly she felt her aura become more brilliant once more.

It grew and grew, brighter and brighter, lighting the heavens and the earth in a light even more brilliant than that of the Sun.

Too late however the Moon realized her mistake, her aura had become crimson red and her once brilliant and pure blue glow had transformed into a blood-red light.

Too late she realized that the demon race was planning to use the spell to do the unthinkable.

The Sun rushed to her help, using all his power to free her from the spell but the harm had been done.

“The harm you have done me, nothing can ever repair it, nothing can ever heal the wound inside my heart…”

“But I forgive you for now I understand how foolish one can be when blinded by temptation…”

“It is too late for me my friend… No longer can I share your burden, no longer will the world know my love for it…”

“But you know. Atone for your sin by remembering my legacy…”

The spell the demons had created was too powerful to be fought and the Moon could barely resist it.

The Sun could only watch with despair as the queen of the Night let herself be consumed by it.

“It is the only way…”, he heard her whisper as she faded away into the void, leaving behind her only a large scar in the heavens.

A scar of dust glowing in a soft blue light.

Okay, this is something that I’ve been thinking about for a few days now and that I’ve spent the whole evening writing.

I’m really inspired by this story and I think that I managed to get the story-telling right and the character quite right too.

It is still far from finished/perfect, -though I’m a bit proud of myself, it’s not so bad for a first draft is it?- and will need some rework but I wanted to share it immediately with you guys.

Hope you enjoy! ;)

Courir, mourir.

Posted on January 23, 2016 by Swor under Poetry

Morte.

Running and living,

Stopping and dying,

There is no fighting.

No one trenscends

We can only flee,

Run far away,

As far as possible.

No one ascends

No matter how fast,

Run far away,

He* always catches up.

An iron grip,

Never letting go,

Fingers so cold

It rips even your soul.

Faster, farther,

It’s the only way

Longer, harder,

To live. Running always.

Running and living,

Stopping and dying,

There is no fighting.

Yup. A jolly story is it not?

*Of course. Who doesn’t know Death is a he?

The unforgivable

Posted on November 15, 2015 by Swor under Shorts

“Damian stop. Don’t do this…”

“Or what? What will happen if I do? What will you do?”

The blond man looked at the one who had been his friend for so long. He wasn’t expecting a reply, he knew it would not come, and when silence engulfed the room for a whole minute he smiled. It seemed as if the world had momentarily stopped, holding its breath as it waited for an answer.

“That’s what I thought.” He finally said. “You can’t do anything to stop me, you have never been able to.”

He turned around, his coat floating airily behind him, and walked to the huge screen under which stood a control panel before placing both his hands on it and leaning forward.

“This is it. This is my victory, your defeat. And even your lord can’t do anything about it Michael. I will finally repay what I owe them.” He said in a low voice as he looked at the screen.

Michael couldn’t see his face, only the large shape of his back, but he could feel the fire burning in his eyes, he could feel the hate consuming his soul. He had been fighting to prevent this from happening for so long, he had tried to help, done his best to save him, but nothing had worked. Damian had gone down the dark and lonely path he had locked himself into and now it was too late. Still, he found the strength to hope, to continue trying.

“Damian.” He called, trying to free his hand to get his long dark hair out of his face, but the guards didn’t let him move, he was completely restrained in their iron grip.

The blond half-turned his head as he heard his name.

“You can’t do this… For the love of god, please stop this madness. They can still forgive you…”

They had been friends for so long, he refused to simply abandon him like this. He refused to give up, no matter how many times he was told it was useless, that it was a lost cause. There was still a way to save him he knew it, if only he could find out how… As soon as he said that the blond turned back to the screen and started laughing.

“They will forgive me… They will forgive me?!” He shouted, turning back quickly to face his old friend. “No Michael, I will not stop this. I don’t want their forgiveness. I want them to suffer, I want them to writhe in agony just as I have. I want to destroy every single one of them! I want them all to die!”

His eyes had completely lost their usual cool blue color and now seemed as red as blood, as the inferno that was consuming his soul burned through them.

“Please…” Said Michael, his voice strained by the pain he felt, not being able to do anything to save him. Dont make me do this…

“No. I will not have pity. I will not let remorse rob me of my rightful vengeance. This is what I have been working towards all this time and I will have what is mine!” He turned towards the monitor and pressed a single button before speaking into a microphone. “Activate phase three.”

“Damian…” Michael started, but as he was about to try one last time his old friend gave the order.

“Now.”

At the same time as he spoke, the dark-haired man heard a deep sound that resonated in his mind for what seemed like an eternity. Then, he knew. It was over. Damian had done what could never be undone, nor forgiven. He had doomed himself. He saw the dark shape, standing before the huge monitor, become smaller and smaller as the guards dragged him ever farther away from the gigantic room. The man he had once known as a brother was now a stranger, a dark and twisted existence who had been consumed by his desire for revenge.

As the archway leading in and out of the huge space grew ever smaller he felt something break inside him, the minuscule silhouette was still standing, so far away, unmoving. He desperately wanted to free himself of the strong grasp they had on him, to run back there and try once more. Surely this time he could convince him, surely he could put a stop to all this. But he knew this fantasy would never come true. Damian had made his choice and he had lost himself by doing so. A lone tear ran down his face as he felt the searing wave start to spread through his body.

It was over. Whatever he had felt towards that existence, whatever bonds they had shared, none of this mattered anymore. Michael closed his eyes. It was his burden, his mission. It was what defined him, the sole reason to his existence. And it was the only thing he couldn’t fight. I’m sorry… I haven’t been strong enough. I wish I could’ve saved you… I wish I could’ve saved all of you. That was what destroyed him a little more each time, knowing he was powerless, the knowledge that whatever his thoughts were he could never go against his nature.

You who have been touched by his light,

Have committed the unforgivable,

The hand of justice shall punish you.

Come walk into the night of end.

As he opened his eyes again the two guards were nowhere to be seen, as if they had vanished into oblivion. He noticed the white flames that had engulfed his body and the bright light that gently caressed the stone walls around him as the power surged inside him. He stood up straight and looked at the faraway arch that glowed in a faint blue light. He took a single tentative step before slowly starting to walk towards it. I’m sorry.

The demon

Posted on May 23, 2015 by Swor under Prologue, Shorts, The Lord of the Red Moon

night sky

Credits to Elias Stern / LordDoomhammer for this amazing piece called Graceful Moonlight.

It the olden days there was another,

A sphere of light high up in the sky,

That lit up the world just like a mother

During the dark nights, high up it would fly.

The night was dark but the sky was clear. One could see the stars and the soft light of the moon. The night was dark and the air was cold. He could see the creature’s breath shimmer slightly before disappearing mysteriously. He should’ve been cold but the fight had lit a fire in his heart, each breath spread the warmth all over his body. He could feel his blood pumping in his arms, in his head and in chest. He was alive. No, he was still alive. How could he still be alive? How could he have survived so long against such a monster? He saw its red eyes shine in the dark, looking intently at him as if they were piercing his mind, as if it could see directly into his soul. His breath was heavy as he tried to recover from the exhaustion. His muscles were burning, his mind was getting fuzzy by moments and, even if he was still standing, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he crumbled under the immensely powerful attacks of the beast in front of him.

The only thing that kept him alive and standing was that he couldn’t fail. It wasn’t a question of honor or pride, no, he simply couldn’t fail. He had to protect them. He had to protect everyone. If he died here it didn’t matter as long as he took the creature with him, but he couldn’t be defeated, he couldn’t lose. For if he was… He shivered as images of the burning village flashed in his mind, his wife and child, his friends and his neighbors, so many innocent slain by one single being. No! He definitely couldn’t let it happen. He was the only one that could stop it, the only one that had a chance. He couldn’t lose but he didn’t see how he could win either. They had been at it for so long and he hadn’t managed to injure it even once yet. How do I defeat that thing? How? The question echoed endlessly through his mind as he parried and counter attacked over and over again. How do I kill it?

He had felt its aura long before it had reached the village, the deathly smell that characterized its kind. He had known it was coming long before he had seen its bloody eyes glow menacingly at him. He hadn’t been able to believe it at first; they hadn’t been seen for centuries. Why had it appeared now? And why here? How could it be possible? He had no answer to the many questions that had flooded his mind, answers were not important though, action was. He had known what he had to do almost immediately: he had to go face it. He had to kill it before it killed them. Night had already begun to fall when he had jumped on his horse and had left them, not even looking back once as he disappeared in the horizon. He had ridden for hours before reaching the place where it had appeared and a few more before he had encountered it. The night was dark but the light of the moon offered just enough vision to survive its attacks, at least until now.

It was tall, much taller than him, with long limbs and skin darker than night, red eyes and claws so long and so sharp they could tear a man apart without difficulty. The only reason he had managed to survive until was because he had been a royal knight in another life, he had become the protector of the village after years of faithful services and the armor he had donned all these years was reinforced with magic. His lion shield had been enchanted to resist to the strongest blows as well as the passing of time and his sword was a cursed blade, it was the only way to injure a magical creature. And boy, what a creature he had in front of him. Easily over two meters tall with sharp with teeth and deadly magical power, it was easily a mediare daemonis, a middle class demon. A very powerful creature that was said to come from the burning fires of hell. One must have been crazy or foolish to go up against such a monster but he hadn’t lost his mind, he had no other choice if he wanted to keep them safe.

Claws clashed against shield and sword against scale, over and over, relentlessly. Each time he could see the hellish fire burning in its eyes and felt as if the demonic glare was tearing his mind and soul to shreds. He parried and counterattacked, throwing mad sword thrusts at the dark limbs but never succeeding in wounding them. The demon would smile from time to time, as if it enjoyed toying with him, displaying blood-red teeth as sharp as knives. Suddenly he jumped and rolled to the side to evade another blow, the large arm passed right by him and hit the ground with so much strength it crumbled the rocks beneath it. He used this single instant to get back to his feet and thrust his sword at the creature’s exposed chest but the demon was faster and caught the sword between its claws, turning towards him with a wicked smile.

“Foolish human… You cannot defeat me, not even with your sacred weapons…” Its voice was deep and it seemed to echo in darkness.

No, he thought, not in darkness. It was as if its voice was the darkness and as if it took form as it left its mouth. I’m never going to be able to kill that thing… he thought, his mind slowly going numb. He felt as if his body had suddenly been tossed into water, his movements were sluggish, his breathing was ragged and he had difficulty moving his chest to take in a new wave of oxygen. The world had suddenly solidified around him and he could literally feel the weight of it on his shoulders, forcing him to the ground, dragging him to the depths of the underworld. He fell to his knee, only managing to stop himself from falling to the ground by burying the tip of his sword in the dry dirt under his feet. Images flashed before his eyes, the village in ruins, every house burning up in flames as dark as the night, his family lying on the ground, in each other’s arms, dead. No… No! This can’t be happening, no! His head was about to explode, he couldn’t go on anymore, it had to stop.

“Do you see now, it will only end in death and suffering… And that will all be my doing. You cannot stop me, it is already too late!” The demon spoke again, boring its eyes into his, breaking every wall and piercing every barrier to touch his soul.

As soon as it happened he felt a searing pain, this time his head had exploded, it couldn’t be otherwise. He had died and gone to hell where the demon was tormenting him. Hahaha. You are a mine and so are all the others, I will crush you like the insects you are… This time the voice was in his head, it echoed endlessly, sending flashes of unbearable pain and images of his family. His wife, bloody and crying over their son’s body, all torn up and burnt. A sword pierced her heart and a single cry echoed in the night before she fell to the ground next to the young boy. Now die! The voice added and he felt a searing pain in his mind as the demon’s consciousness retreated from it.

He felt it was an eternity before he finally opened his eyes again, he was still on his knees, his body completely paralyzed by intense pain. The demon was towering over him, its dark form expanding in two large wings on each side and its eyes glowing a deep dark shade of red. The creature was holding a large silver blade in its hand, its edge seemed like it was made of a different material than the center and glowed with an eerie purple light. The sword was much longer than what he had ever seen and the edges seemed to be made like teeth of a saw, as if it had been forged to tear apart instead of cutting. The creature lifted it in the air and displayed a wicked smile.

“Now die.” Its voice sounded mocking and amused as it brought down its large and dark arm.

As the deadly weapon was about to hit him an image flashed in his mind, the last look of his wife as he had left and the fear in his son’s eyes. He felt a sudden warmth in his chest as his blood started to boil again, anger coursed through his veins. He couldn’t let it win, it was simply not a possibility!

“No.” He managed to reply, planting his foot on the ground and raising his shield once more to protect himself.

He parried the blow and quickly took a step back, readying his sword once more. He would not fall now, he would not let his loved ones get slaughtered by this monster. He saw surprise flash in the demon’s eyes as he got back up and could have sworn he had seen a hint of fear.

“Impressive…” The demon’s voice was still as calm and deadly as before, there was no hint that he was worried by his opponent just getting back up. “You have a noteworthy resolve for a human.” The creature added before thrusting his sword forward.

He parried with difficulty, feeling his arm go numb as the sword hit his shield. The lion head resounded for a few seconds as the shield shook powerfully under the assault. He could only try to parry as best as he could as the creature attacked relentlessly, over and over again with a blood lust and rage he had never felt before. Its aura was overwhelming and had he not known that they would all die if he didn’t kill it he would have succumbed to it and been utterly destroyed. Dust flew around them as the danced furiously under the moonlight. One might almost have viewed this scene as poetic if they hadn’t known it was a fight.

He tried to fought back, parrying and counterattacking as fiercely as he could, but he was still getting overwhelmed and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would be defeated. Even with the sacred weapons that had been given to him by the royal smith himself he couldn’t match the creature’s natural raw power and strength. It was from another realm and very few men had fought one and lived to tell the tale, all of which were far stronger than he had ever been. Still he hung on, still he fought back. He couldn’t let them be killed, he was the only one who could protect them.

Another unbearably strong hit on his shield, then a clash of swords that sent him a few feet backwards, his arms were starting to give out. His armor was dented and bent everywhere, his shield was close to breaking, he could feel it, and his sword never got close enough to lend a hit. Blow after blow he was pushed back and toyed with, as if the demon was taking pleasure n chipping away his spirit and soul, piece by piece. Another block with his shield, it effectively cutting of the trajectory of the ethereal sword but this time his legs gave out and he was sent flying backwards, landing painfully on his back.

As he tried to get back up he felt something wet on his side. A large gash was open in his top and blood was flowing from the wound, tainting his armor with a deep red color. The demon had finally managed to wound him seriously. He felt the cold spread in his left side, the arm with which he was holding his shield was starting to grow weak. Damn it! He thought, it can’t end like this. I can’t die now! Ugh! A wave of pain coursed through his body and he winced as he tried to get back up. The demon was looking at him, slowly walking to him, as if it enjoyed this moment.

“Sadly you are still nothing but a human…” It said as it stopped before him, preparing to strike.

Finally, with great effort and a wave of pain he managed to raise his shield to try to protect himself. The demon was about to strike when suddenly the light of the moon changed, it went from the usual bluish shade to a deep red one, the reflection of the light on his shield seemed to take the creature aback. Its eyes widened with surprise and fear and it took a step back. He used this moment of distraction to get back up and, stumbling to keep his balance as his wound hurt, he got back in a fighting stance, readying his sword to strike once more. The demon got its balance back, suddenly looking at the moon and letting out a furious roar.

“How?! How could you…!” It turned back towards him, the fire in its eyes burning with much more intensity as it let out its rage.

The demon raised its sword once more and launched a furious series of attacks. However he was ready for this and he managed to block the first two before the creature’s unmatchable strength blew his shield away. He was wounded once more on his right arm this time and almost dropped his sword as his hellish opponent caught him by the throat and lifted him up from the ground. Then, before he could even have a moment to notice he couldn’t breathe, the creature readied its sword again and struck. He felt a deathly cold pierce his chest as the silver and violet blade plunged in him before a hot searing pain took over.

This time he couldn’t suppress the cry of pain as he felt his mind explode in a myriad of pieces. His vision went blank for a second before he saw the fire once again. Its eyes that had been burning with an intense and hellish fire up until now were dark, the fire had turned black and seemed to suck out any light around as if it was consuming it.

“You are just a puny human, you are not even worthy of my efforts…” The demon said as he looked directly into his eyes.

It was all over. He had lost. He was going to die here and so were all the other, massacred by a ruthless creature that took pleasure in inflicting pain in others… Damn it… How could I let this happen…? He thought with dejection as he felt his consciousness slip away. He felt the weight of his sword in his hand and as he felt like his soul was slowly getting sucked in by the darkness in the creature’s eyes another image flashed in his head and realization dawned on him. This was his chance! He just needed to get close enough to land a blow, this was it… He felt the pommel of his blade start to slip away and swore inwardly. Come on! You can do this! He grunted, trying to make his hand move.

Everything was happening in slow motion now, he felt his fingers move, gripping the blade as he caught it before it fell. He then looked into the demon’s eyes and tried his best to display his determination. He readied his arm, tensing at the pain he felt and he was about to feel. The creature’s eyes narrowed a split second before he struck. Its mouth opened and slowly his opponent looked down at its chest, following his arm, the pommel of his sword and finally the blade which had sunk all the way in its chest. After what seemed an eternity it looked back up and stumbled on its feet.

“H- How…?” Asked the demon, its voice was soft, almost a whisper as incomprehension took the place of surprise.

He saw the creature look up at the sky and the reddish colored moon, its eyes now back to their normal hellish fire and filled of fear. He felt all the anger and the determination he had swell up inside him and forced himself to smile. His breathing was ragged but he still managed to get the words out, the first one since they had started the duel.

“Humans… are not weak…” He said and the creature looked back at him.

“No… no…” The demon’s voice was but a whisper now. “No, no, no… NO!!!” Its voice became louder each time it repeated the word, not believing what was happening.

He felt the grip on his throat loosen and fell to the ground. His vision was getting blurry but he still saw the creature fall to its knees as it pulled his now blood-red blade out of its chest and threw it on the ground. A dark liquid was gushing out of the large wound, forming a pool around the creature’s knees. Come on, die you bastard! He thought, almost praying to all the gods he knew for it to die. The demon looked at the moon for a moment, its breathing getting heavier, before raising a raging fist and letting out a deafening roar. It seemed like an eternity before the sound faded away and he saw the monster slowly fall to the ground, face first.

Its body jerked a few times before becoming completely still. At what seemed to him to be the same time as it drew its last breath a flash of light momentarily blinded him. As his sight came back he noticed that the silver and violet sword had disappeared and that a pool of blood was forming around him too. Breathing was getting more and more difficult, he didn’t have the strength to move anymore but still a small smile formed onto his face as he realized he had killed it. Finally… He let out a painful sigh. Thank you, thank you… He didn’t know who he was thanking but only the gods could have allowed such a miracle to happen. He had defeated the demon… Now they were safe. You are safe… The world around him went dark as the thought crossed his mind. He felt his consciousness slip away as a comfortable cold slowly took over his body.

He was dying and he knew it, but he didn’t care, they were safe and that was all that mattered. They were safe. As the man that his village would later know as a hero lay there, unmoving, the moon’s light slowly went back to its usual bluish color. A small breeze blew over the two corpses, slowly blowing away the demon’s body as if it was sand. That night would later be known as the first night of the red moon, when a demon had been defeated by a brave human who had managed to protect everyone by sacrificing his own life. None knew what happened to him after that though, his body was never found, only his shield with the mighty lion head engraved on the front side, planted in the ground where the fight had taken place.

The death of a king

Posted on May 11, 2015 by Swor under Poetry

There once was an old king,

From a far away land he had come,

Chased away by his kin,

Many years before when the revolt happened.

They said he was a monster,

They said he had to pay with his life

For the sins of his father

And all those that had lived before

So his parents fled their land,

Taking the young child on a long journey

Across oceans and mountains,

Through forests and fields of barley.

They ran and ran and ran,

As fast as they could to escape their pursuers

But hey were caught up with

And only the boy managed to keep going.

He lived a long and full life,

Sometimes looking back towards the land

Where he had come from,

But never halting his march forward.

Every man has to die. It is fact, one day or another each and every one of us will pass on to whatever comes next. Whatever we do, whatever we try, death will always catch us. Wether we are a simple citizen or a king, whether we are rich or poor, whether we are a good man or a bad one. Death will always catch up with us. But that is not necessarily a bad thing, for what would life be if it wasn’t for death? Would we come to appreciate it as much if it never came to an end? No, I don’t believe so. Life is a gift and we have to make the most of it, however hard or painful it is, we have to keep marching forward, we have to keep going. Always.

Versatile Blogger Award Nomination

Posted on April 5, 2015 by Swor under Random

Well, apparently I have just been nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award, or at least I have just noticed I was nominated, by Laura Clark at Inspiredstoriesandpoems so I’m going to do what I should’ve done a few days ago already.

The Award Rules

Thank the person who gave you this award.
Include a link to their blog.
Next, select 15 blogs/bloggers that you follow.
Nominate those 15 bloggers for the Versatile Blogger Award.
Finally, tell 7 things about yourself.

Full details of the award can be found on the VBA website through this link.

Here are the blogs that I, in my great and infinite generosity, nominate for the award :

And of course (I don’t know if it’s allowed but who cares) :

InspiredStoriesAndPoems

And here are 7 facts about my awesome and extremely important life :

I love cheese, potato crisps and sausage/salami.
I’m 20 but I still play Pokemon a lot.
My Pocket Monsters dream team is composed of Snorlax, Sandslash, Scyther, Rayquaza, Lapras, Typhlosion, Leafeon, Pickachu/Raichu and Giratina. (Yeah, it’s more than six but IDC)
I have a younger brother who is annoyingly annoying.
I am annoyingly annoying with my little brother, that’s because I’m still a little kid at heart and I love to play pranks on him.
I have a gorgeous and loving girlfriend which I love.
I want to become super rich and to be able to buy myself a whole library so that I can read all the books when I want to.

Also, thank you again Laura for nominating me! :)

Oh the horror!

Posted on March 15, 2015 by Swor under Shorts

Short horror stories. Goal : write horror stories in two sentences. Here are five of them I wrote for this dare.

I felt his ragged and warm breath against my neck, it smelled of fresh blood and death, and I froze, all my hairs standing up from fear. I wanted to scream, I knew I should run, but I couldn’t.

The night was dark, rain was pouring heavily through the ruins of the ceiling, lightning fell nearby leaving an iron taste in the air. A mad howl echoed in the darkness as the beast smelled the scent of its prey, its sharp teeth glowing in the night, foaming with drool.

The door slammed and locked itself as John ran for the corridor. The lights flickered and the air grew cold, sending shivers through his spine as the ectoplasm entered his body.

As I walked through the door I froze. There it was, horrible and beyond any nightmare my mind could have dared to imagine.

The faint light slowly spread in the room as he opened the door and took inside. Suddenly, his heart stopped, the cheese was gone…

The strange habbits of Alastor Reynolds

Posted on March 14, 2015 by Swor under Shorts

Alastor Reynolds had always lived with an overly long list of habits. Every morning he would wake up at precisely 6:27. Why 6:27?, you might ask. Well, Mr. Reynolds would simply answer that it was so that it gave him time to wake up completely before getting up; he had three full minutes to open his eyes, recover his barring and get out of bed. By the time he was standing up, ready to begin the day, it would be precisely half past six.

Then he would come down the stairs, hopping over the first and the last steps to prevent any bad vide from catching up that day. He would sit down at his table with a cup of black coffee and wait patiently for a full minute to pass until his toasts jumped out of the toaster. Three toasts, with butter and strawberry jam, that he would for nor more than four seconds in his coffee before taking a bite. When his breakfast was over a quarter of an hour later he would put his dishes in the dish washer and climb back up the stairs two by two, careful not to step on the first and last ones.

After another quarter of an hour spent washing his face, trimming his short beard and brushing his teeth, he would walk back to his room and dress in one of his eight suits. A white shirt and a dark red tie would go with a black pair of pants, black shoes and a black jacket. Always. (Only on Sundays would he allow himself to wear anything else. ‘Anything else’ meaning a differently colored shirt, a matching pair of pants and shoes, a tweed jacket and a blue tie. Sometimes none.) Then he would put on his watch; on the right wrist because he could never get accustomed to wearing it on the other side. And at ten minutes past seven he would be ready to go to work, locking his door and climbing in his dark grey work car. On his ways to work he would count the number of seconds each traffic light lasted and drive through each one of them as they turned green.

At noon Mr. Reynolds liked to go down to the cafeteria of the company where he worked and order a caesar salad with extra sauce. He would eat his salad either alone in his office if he had much work that day or with his friend Paul on the picnic takes outside the building if the weather was good enough. Then after an afternoon of hard work he would get back home at precisely eight o’clock and would eat while watching the evening news. Finally, at 10:25pm sharp, he would turn off all lights and get into bed for a good night’s sleep, giving himself five minutes until half past ten to get ready. And he would repeat this routine every day of the week, every week of the month.

All these days were an unchanging routine adopted by Alastor Reynolds over the years to reassure himself of his control over his life. Indeed, due to some uncomfortable memories of bullying in his childhood, Mr. Reynolds was quite unsure of himself at all times and so he liked to comfort himself by keeping complete control over himself, his actions and their consequences, thus managing every step of his life with the utmost caution. As you have probably understood by now, Alastor Reynolds was still single. Of course he had had some adventures with women before but it hadn’t worked out well… It was partly due to all his habits but mostly because he hadn’t found anyone to his real liking yet. All those women he had met had seemed either too shallow, too possessive or simply not interesting enough to him.

On Saturdays he would spend the day cleaning the studio that was his. That was the day that Mr. Reynolds was the most overcome by his habits. Every Saturday morning, after waking up at eight and eating a quick breakfast he would start sweeping the dust, sorting out every object that he considered as “to be put to the trash” by size, color and material in small plastic bags. There always were five different plastic bags : red for the leftovers, green for glass, yellow for metallic scraps, blue for cardboard and wood, and white for anything that didn’t fit in any of the previous categories. After putting all of this in bags he would dust each room from ground to ceiling and polish it until it shined. Then he would put order in his clothes, planning his dressing for the week.

After that he would take the bags down to the trash cans and come back up to wash himself. A quick shower, and if he deemed himself clean enough he would rearrange every object in his house so that it took back its original place. He even had pictures of every object’s position if he ever had a doubt, which he hadn’t as he had what some would call a ‘perfect memory’. It allowed him to remember many a great many thing he wanted or needed to remember, but also a great many things he did not want to remember… Then he usually went to see Dr. Andrews, and he would talk about his very little understanding of other people and, on rare occasions, of his fears. The doctor often said that he would greatly need a break from his work and his life, that he should go on a holiday somewhere nice and warm, perhaps even something he had not planned in advance. But Alastor Reynolds was not a man of useless action nor of inaction, he preferred to work and continue in his routine rather than try new things on a whim.

The only break – or rather what seemed like a break – in his routine was on Sundays. Every Sunday he would choose something different to do: a different place to go out to, or simply a different book to read. He tried to keep it as random as his need for meaning or usefulness allowed him to, but he often found himself going to the beach and sitting on the soft sand while he watched the ocean and listened to his favorite music. These were some of his favorite moments in life for he felt appeased and serene. And though it might seem strange for a man such as Alastor Reynolds, it allowed him to clear his mind and, sometimes, even open it to new idea, thus relieving him of some of his stress. He liked to imagine himself living in another world, a world without obligations, work or bosses to check on what you were doing. He liked to imagine himself floating along the stars, witnessing the great marvels of the universe with his own eyes. At least for a few minutes or hours.

For his routine would always catch up to him; Monday always came round. He sometimes wished that he was an adventurer, travelling around the world, climbing mountains and discovering jungles. He dreamt of flying planes, fighting imaginary armies, being a war hero. He aspired to something better, something greater, but alas for now he was just a law firm employee. And he was conscious that with his habits, which he knew were more than that but was too uncomfortable talking about psychological disorder, he would be so probably for the rest of his life.

If only he could get rid of all this and do as the doctor said… “Get rid of all the junk you don’t need Alastor. You should really try, you’ll see the world from a new eye…” Oh how he longed to do that. But he was scared, too scared. Scared of everything : the huge world out there, the others, himself… What he needed was a change, something big, an upheaval in his life. Something he hadn’t planned, something akin to a meteor that would strike his routine right to the heart and somehow free him of himself. Alas, he knew how unlikely it was to happen, he had calculated the odds on multiple occasions. “Get rid of all the junk.” Well easier said than done doctor!, he thought. He had tried not to count everything, he had tried not to be always so distant and stiff, he had tried to open to the world, to be carefree. But it simply wasn’t for him… And yet, he kept hoping.

He closed the window on his desktop with a sigh. The clock showed quarter past seven, time to go home, he thought. He shut down his computer and put on his long dark coat, grabbing his leather suitcase in which he kept his work-related documents. It was old but he was very attached to it, it had been his father’s. As he exited the room and walked in the corridor towards the elevator a voice called for him.

“Alastor, wait!”

He turned around to see a young woman. He remembered her to be Stephanie Anderson, a colleague from the IT department.

“Oh, hello Ms. Anderson. May I help you?” He asked, very formal but letting a tentative smile begin to form on his face.

He spent the short moment it took her to reach where he was standing to observe her. He had never taken the time to really look at her; well he had never really taken the time to get to know anyone really, despite working in the same company for the last eight years. Except Paul, he thought. But Paul was an exception, they had been assigned to work together since they had both arrived at the same time eight years ago, almost immediately creating some sort of connection. Stephanie was slightly taller than most women, almost as tall as Alastor, with long slender legs. She had dark hair falling over he shoulders in long curls and big bluish eyes one could drown himself into without realizing it. She was usually dressed with a white blouse and a black skirt, but today she had opted for a beige one. She appeared much younger than she actually was but still she must have been at least ten years younger than him, about twenty-five or twenty-six he guessed. She approached him with a bright smile.

“Hello Alastor, I was hoping to catch you before you left. Looks like I was right on time!” Her smile got wider, and brighter, if that was even possible. “And yes you can help me. You see, I have to get all these numbers ordered and clarified before my boss allows me to ask for the new material I need but I am really lost and I hoped you could sort of… give me a hand? If it’s too much to ask!” She added quickly, her face displaying a timid expectancy.

Alastor pondered her request. Of course, it would be more work for the next few days, but he always tried to help as much as he could. He nodded and tried to return her bright smile but it felt like it turned into a weird grimace so he stopped.

“You know, I totally understand if you can’t!”, the young woman added hastily.

She must have noticed his grimace and interpreted it either as a polite yet forced smile, as if he was reluctantly accepting her request.

“Oh… No, of course not! I mean, yes. I would be glad to help you. I was going for a smile but apparently to no avail”, he replied, playing it as embarrassed as she was.

It was a trick he had picked up over the years. Mimic expressions and states of mind to seem more interested in what people were trying to express. He knew that sometimes he had trouble with showing rather than telling.

“Please. Just tell me what you need and I’ll be happy to do my best”, he added with another attempt at a smile.

This time it must have worked as she replied to him with one of her own, and, to his great surprise, she hugged him, making him jump slightly.

“Thank you so much !” Stephanie exclaimed. “I really need help on this one, and I don’t know anyone else remotely as good as you with numbers… You’re doing me great favor!” Then realizing what she had done she blushed slightly. “Oh… umm… sorry about the… ahem… hug, uhm I know you don’t, well… Anyway! I’m really happy you agreed, thank you, you’re a lifesaver!”

“Dont worry, it’s okay.” Alastor nodded again. “I’m happy to help.”

Repetition was also key to emphasize some things, sometimes.

“Okay then, it’s settled. I’ll come by your office tomorrow at ten, I know you take a small break at that time – if you don’t mind of course – so I can explain what’s to be done!”

His eyebrows scrunched imperceptibly as he checked in his mind if he had anything scheduled at that time and as he reordered his agenda slightly to fit in her visit.

“Right, tomorrow at ten it is then. I’ll be waiting.”, he said.

He did not try to smile this time, he wasn’t sure if it would work again – too little practice!, he scolded himself – but focused on loosening the muscles of his face. He found that doing that seemed to put people more to ease, even without smiling.

“See you tomorrow then Ms. Anderson”, he added as he moved to leave.

“Yes, see you tomorrow Alastor”, she answered as he walked away.

And before he entered the elevator she added almost shouting.

“And you can call me Stephanie !”

Alastor Reynolds looked up and saw that she was waving her hand at him with a bright smile yet again spread on her face. As the doors slowly shut before him he caught himself waving back at her. He didn’t know what to think of it at first, but the image of a comet soon floated through his mind. Well, maybe I could be wrong after all… And strangely, for once, that thought didn’t bother him the least.

So, yeah, another text in reply to a daily prompt that I wrote some time ago. It was inspired the movie Stranger Than Fiction with Will Ferrell and Maggie Gyllenhaal that I watched a few years back and really enjoyed.

I’m not really satisfied with this one, I mean, I’ve checked for mistakes in the grammar and spelling so that should be okay, but I feel like I had a different vibe in mind when I started writing it then when I finished it, I feel like the second half isn’t as good as it could’ve been… I might come back to it one day and re-write it completely.

Anyway, that’s my point of view, tell me if you agree or not!

—

Edit: 04/02/2018 – Corrected some mistakes and made a few changes to the text. I feel more satisfied with this text, although I don’t think it is perfect yet, I like it more as it is now than as it was.

To the sky…

Posted on March 12, 2015 by Swor under Poetry

Some, often many, say

There is only one way

For us all, when we die,

To raise up to the sky.

They say we have to be

At all times pious, good,

But most importantly

Never in the wronghood.

They tell us what is right,

What is wrong, what is sin,

Who is banned from His sight

And who we should’ve been,

When all we want to be,

Is, quite simply, happy.

Tales of Ore

Mainly poetry

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