Why did I scrap it? It didn't quite have the mood I was aiming for. My influences, I felt, were a bit too obvious to those who know them. Above all, however, it just didn't feel quite right to me.
I still liked it, however, so thought I'd share it with you. It does end rather abruptly, I'll admit, so you've been warned. Just consider it a little teaser for the complete story, coming soon. Anyway, read, hopefully enjoy, and I always care for feedback!
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A fading light as I was held,
A dying hope within.
As my tale ended,
So a new one did begin.
As one world faded, a new one did arise;
And so I saw the sails of darkest gray.
Sails that I’d long dreamed of seeing,
I reached for them, yearned to be carried away.
Motionless. Not a thing stirred. No movement, no sound, nothing at all. Where moments before a battle had raged, the land now stood still, seemingly untouched. The clashing armies gone as though they’d never existed, the carnage of the fight only in the memories of the dead.
The dead. For they were the only evidence that anything at all had happened. Countless bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, the method of their partings obvious from their state. Wounds from swords, from arrows, marked their passing. Yet there was no blood, not amongst the dead where they lay as still and quiet as the rest of the world.
Time. There was no way to measure it’s passing. The sun hung in the sky, stuck in place and as motionless as everything else. The days did not pass, did not give way to night.
Still the sun’s light spread over the world, yet it didn’t bring colour or brightness. The dead world was a mere shadow of that occupied by the living. The scenery seemed touched by grey, lacking vibrancy. Truly, the world was devoid of life, of sound, of anything.
As still and motionless as the world around him Arthan took it all in, yet it meant nothing. He lay amongst other bodies, as lifeless as his own. He didn’t move, could not, nor could he feel. But yet he was aware. Aware of the shadowy, almost mirage like world around him. Aware of the gaping wound in his chest that had ended his life. Aware that nothing around him was moving, the stark contrast to his last memory.
Memories. He still had them, and that was something. He held onto them as though they could save him from this bleak, desolate land. He became lost in them.
Meeting. Eyes across a crowded room, as though in a story. He approached her as she smiled coyly at him.
Connecting. He introduced himself. Arthan. She responded in turn. Nerie. They spoke long into the night.
Wishing. She was all he’d ever wanted. He wanted to be with her, could think of nothing else.
Hoping. He hoped she felt the same; desired it with all his being. As they finally parted ways that night, they promised to meet again.
That night, a seed had been sown in their souls. It took root and grew, blooming into a flower the more they met. He held onto these memories as a light against the dark world he was now in.
Embracing. He remembered holding her against him and never wanting to let her go. Quiet times spent, just the two of them.
Kissing. Her lips against his. The joining of the flowers growing within them. He treasured her, treasured these moments.
Loving. Like nothing he’d ever felt before. They were the only ones for each other, and they both knew it.
Promising. To be together forever. They vowed themselves to each other, and neither dreamed of breaking.
It wasn’t to last. When the world moved against them, their promises weren’t strong enough to last, though the feelings didn’t weaken. Arthan remembered Nerie asking him why. He wanted to protect her and didn’t want anything to hurt her.
“Because I love you,” was his answer before leaving for the war.
Bleeding. As men fell around him, the ground beneath his feet was soaked in red. He tried not to think of how much he was responsible for.
Screaming. The noises of the battlefield. It all merged into a thunderous cacophony within, drowning out any thoughts and all but the most basic of instincts. To survive.
Suffering. Without her he felt incomplete, as she knew he would back at their home. Yet she was why he was here. There was no turning back.
Hating. This time apart, he wanted it to be over. Yet he couldn’t forgive those that threatened her safety.
Dying.
“Rise.” A single word, yet so sudden and powerful he couldn’t resist. It broke through Arthan’s memories and drew him back to the bleak world he now occupied. He was no longer lying down yet he could not recall moving. He gazed downwards, looking into his own lifeless blue eyes. Removed from his body, he now saw himself as he imagined others would have. Neck length light brown hair, messed up from the chaos of battle, sat on a face twisted in pain.
Movement in front of Arthan drew his attention away from his body. Standing before him was a figure, draped in a thick, black cloak. A black hood was pulled over his head, obscuring his face. In the entire world, he was the only moving thing Arthan could see. The figure seemed more solid, more real, than everything else around them.
“I see now. I understand,” the figure laughed a little, “It all finally makes sense.” Arthan detected both relief and amazement in the figure’s voice as he spoke.
“I’m sorry?” Arthan asked, taken aback. The figure ignored him, however, and turned his attention to another body lying on the ground.
“Rise, he commanded once more.
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Yup. That's where it ends. Be patient with me. The completed one shall be up soon.
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