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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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So while I’ve been gone, it was slow going but I was finally able to finish editing this piece. I also change up some of the dialog, trying my hand at writing accents.

Pale Rider

“'Ay! Did yous ‘ear? Dee say she wuz spotted again.”

“Yous sure?”

“Still go'n in de same direction?”

“Em- hm. It seems she is a 'ead'n fe de war up in Epis. Betweun Earthsea and de Firehills.”

The three fishermen spoke in hushed tones, their heads bent close together, as they discussed the latest news about The Pale Rider. The dim lighting and smoky air mixed with the late hour, gave the Seafront Tavern an extra layer of quiet this night. The three usually boisterous fishermen, discussed Lady Death in quietly hushed tones. The other patrons paid them little mind.

“Nolan o’ Beddoc, says dat Shattuck an 'alf de Kelpie’s crew saw 'er whun dee docked in Bridgeport at de newn bell.” Said Sully, the youngest of the three.

Barely twenty-two, he had been working as a dockhand at Wellingsford Bay for the last ten years. He had a strong, stout build, that told anyone who looked at him that rumors of his mother’s family having Dwarf blood in their line wasn’t untrue. He kept his long, dark, red hair pulled back in a tail, and his patchy red beard close cropped. His hazel eyes, a dreamer’s mix of brown, green, and gray, held weary excitement.

“'ow can’a ‘ee knows it’s 'er and not some noble onna white 'orse.?” asked Fisk, a burly man at the end of his prime. For a man quickly approaching his twilight years, he didn’t look it.

He was broad shouldered and a barreled-chested, his long wavy, gray streaked, chestnut hair, hung lose down his back. His thick beard was just as long wild as his hair. Beetle black eyes peaked out from under heavy brows. His large hooked nose, the tip of which was slightly squashed, had been broken at least twice in his life and healed crooked.

Fisk captained a small fishing vessel, the Will O’ Wisp. Like many a seafaring man he had named his ship for one of the fair folk. It had long been the custom in the land of Diwa to name things such as wagons and boats after one of the immortals, to help bring luck and prosperity to the owners of such things.

“Oh its 'er or'rite.” said Wayde, a man in his prime, “It’s all ways de same description. a fair skind, dark 'aired wench, dressed in black. rid'n a pale 'orse and wi’ a big ol’ black bird fallow'n close be’ind.

Unlike his fellows Wayde was long limbed and gangly. He was tall toping at nearly seven feet. His shoulder length golden blond hair had a slight curl to it and his summer sky eyes shone with sharp intelligence. He was clean shaven, and handsome enough that he drew many an eye. Though he didn’t have a ship of his own, Wayde could often be seen out in the bay, aboard his brother’s skiff the Dracling. Though he had no grate power Wayde’s Gift gave him the ability to clam the tides and ensure that his table was never without food.

“See?” said Sully, “Wi’ a description like dat there’s nah one else it could be. It’s de Pale Rider, Averna, Lady Death 'erself!”

While the three men discussed the possibility of the Pale Rider and whether or not she would be making her way to Wellingsford, they failed to notice the dark-haired woman who’d been sitting at the bar. Listening to them as she nursed a tankard of ale. If they had, the men would have noted that the woman had very pale skin, night black hair and eyes the color of pitch. Her cloths were worn and dirty from travel but of good quality. She wore lose fitting black britches, a black knee length split tonic and black calf skin riding boots.

Her waist length hair was woven into an intricate braid that hung down her back with two smaller braids framing both sides of her face. Each of her three braids had a combination of ivory bone beads and glassy black feathers woven into them.

If it weren’t for the glamour she wore to hide who and what she was, the whole tavern would have seen the most exotic, wild, beautifully graceful face. It was said, a man could drown in the depths of her, large almond shaped, eyes. Her lips had the barest touch of peach color to them. Her ears came to sharp, delicate points much like those that belonged to the elfin races. Her face had the sharp-edged beauty, that was a gentle comfort to those ready to embrace her and produced debilitating fear in those who knew her wrath.

Averna, was not a Child Of God, and she had no seat on the Counsel Of Five. She was an independent entity, having existed as long as God. She was no Goddess, and wish not for others to see her as such. Though she knew some did anyway. She knew there were just as many temples dedicated to her as there were to God and his children.

But Averna, or Ava as she was known to her chosen, could never be a Goddess. God was life, and she was death. Though God could not exist with out her nor she without him. The two completed each other in an unending cycle.

She did not often come to the land of the living, but she enjoyed the pleasers that could be found there. Sensations were dulled in The Twilight Realm Of The Dead that was her home. Only among the living could she enjoy the taste of cool ale. Or the feel of Bonecrusher, her Pale Horse, as she rode astride him. Only here could she feel the painful clamping of Battlescry’s talons as they sank into her flesh.

Ava spent several hours at the tavern, listening to village gossip and enjoying a hearty meal. But as midnight approached, and the number of patrons visiting the establishment petered out until only she and the three-gossiping fisherman and the barkeep remained. Deciding it was time she take her leave; Ava slapped a down few silver marks on the bar and left.

Taking her cloak from the peg, were it hung by the door, she walkd out of the tavern savoring the scent and feel of the cool gray mist, as it came sweeping up out of the bay to blanket the village of Wellingsford. Raising her right arm to the sky above, Ava was soon greeted by the shrill caw of Battlescry, one of her dearest and trusted traveling companions.

Battlescry was the first Crow, and thus mother to all other crows who existed in the world. As a child of Father Sky one of Counsel Of Five, she was immortal. She was the deepest shade of pure ebony. Only her talons, the brightest silver, where diffrent. But it was in the bird’s sightless white eyes that Ava found a measure of comfort. Though the bird was completely blind she could see strait into the souls of men.

Battlescry was a warrior sprit, who along with Lady Death, had been gathering the souls of fallen soldier stints the Chaos Wars. It was on those blood filled plains that they had met more then ten millennium ago. Perhaps it was because she lacked physical sight, but the bird had a way of knowing what was to come. Her gift, that which she put out into the world, was second sight, along with being the first Crow she was also the first Seer.

More then a fortnight ago the bird had come to Ava. The bird had told Lady Death that she was to travel along the coast from Sueiko and Diwa, and on into Earthsea. Before she made her way on to Epis and the border war between Earthsea and the Firehills. Along the way she would meet one who would bring a grate change to the world. Her meeting with that one was pivotal. For if they did not meet there would be much suffering among the living. Thus they set out and began traveling, all the while Ava, kept an eye out for this one. But so far they had yet to meet.

As Battlescry settled on Ava forearm, silver talons sinking into flesh and cloth so as not lose her grip.

Shall we go now Sister? Asked the bird.

“Yes.” answered Ava a moment before she sent out a shrill whistle into the mist.

The gentle clip-clop, a deliberate sound, was the only warning he gave, as Bonecrusher strode from the mist. True unto his breed Bonecrusher walked upon silent hooves. Or rather it was that his breed was true unto him for Bonecrusher was the first Pale Horse. And thus like Battlescry he too was immortal, a child of Mother Ocean of the Counsel Of Five. Bonecrusher was a beauty with his pale coat that was not quite white but was not quite gray either, black eyes and silver hooves. The gift he put out into the world was the same one she looked for in her chosen, was Death Magic, the ability, to see interact with and gather the dead.

All her chosen rode Pale Horses. Pale horses where one of the only living beasts, aside from crows and ravens, that could walk to the border of The Twilight Realm. Atop their pale horses, her chosen could do what no others could. They gathered the spirits of the dead and took them to the border of The Twilight Realm.

Ava swang into Bonecrusher’s saddle with such practiced ease, she didn’t even jostle Battlescry from her perch. Silently, Bonecrusher set out of Wellingsford, fading into the evening mist.

* * * *

“Naaa! Naaa! Let me goo!” A young girl screamed. A man had grabbed her from behind. Pinning her arms to her sides. The child flailed, bashing her heels against her atacker’s shins. Fling her head back; she clipped his chin with the back of her scull. The man swore but didn’t let go, ignoring the dribble of blood that leaked from his lip.

Ava watched the scene, with passive interest. She wondered what would befall this child in the days and months to come. In all likelihood the girl would be takin to the docks and the Slavers Ships. She knew this child’s fate would not end in death, at least not any time soon, he spirt was too strong. However, Ava, being who and what she was, knew that death was often a release for those who suffered much harsher fates. Especially for children. Slavery and abuse took a toll on young bodies. Few children lived to see adolescents let alone adulthood.

She knew all too well the horrors that be fell young children taken from their homes or stolen off the streets. She’d herd many a tail, and not just by the children who suffered but by those who took them as well.

For in death all stories were told, and all secrets reviled. That was the price one had to pay for going on. The Twilight Realm is a sanctuary, that only unburdened spirts could enter. A place for sprits to rest. Before being carried back to the world of the living and being given another chance at life.

Turning away from the child, and urging Bonecrusher onward. Her thoughts turned inward as she grumped that she still had yet to find the one she sought. The one who’s meeting would bring grate change the world of the living.

The battle in Epis was still raging and she was sorely needed there. Though she had already sent many of her chosen, they could only lead the souls of the dead to The Twilight Realm. However she could collect the souls of the living as well as the dead. She often gave peace to those who were suffering. Everyone knew that Lady Death could be as gentle as a summer breeze or as cold and ruthless as a winter storm. Both were facets of her power.

“Lady! Lady Death wait! Pleas! Pleas 'elp me!”

Now! Cawed Battlescry.

Ava wiped around to stare at the girl’s tear streaked face. Still held fast in the arms of the brute who had snatched her.

“'Ay! Dat 'ill be enoof av dat. Yer wee wench.” Said the man as he slapped a hand over her mouth.

Ava stared transfixed. Blood red hair and pale eyes. Not pale blue, as she’d first thought, but pale. As pale as Bonecrusher’s coat. Deathly pale skin and a sharply pointed face that fit awkwardly on such a young child.

She always used a glamour when traveling through a city or village. It was a precautionary tactic to prevent wide spread panic while she moved through the masses. Not even her chosen could see through her glamour unless she allowed.

There had only ever been one who could…

Though nearly eight hundred years had past snits that time. It was as though she had held him in her arms only moments ago. He was the only being she had ever given life to. Her son, Than.

A child born between her and a mortal man, Than was unique. His powers and his lineage made him that, but it also made him mad. A child who’s very being was an embodiment of death. He never should have existed. Even now she knew not how it was that he had come to be, but she could not regret his existence, despite what he had done, what he had become. He would always be her child.

Because of the pairing of a mortal man and Lady Death, the boy’s body had always been unstable. His mortal body could not contain the whole of his immortal soul. He’d had too much power and his body began to burn out. Though she did not know how or when, eventually her son learned that if he devoured the souls of the dead he could replenish his energy and fortify his body.

So for years, that is what he did, but with every soul he ate he corrupted a part of his own. Eventually madness took him. Using the power that was his because of her bloodline he began to summon the sprits of the living. He would walk through a village and leave nothing but corpses.

Looking at this girl child with a face so like that of her son, Ava knew this child was the one she sought. She turned to look at Battlescry, perched on her shoulder. Though the bird could not see her, she answered the unspoken question all the same.

She is the last of his bloodline… The last of you’re bloodline.

Before Ava could think of what to do, she felt a surge of power. The power of death. The man’s grip on the girl went slack a moment before he fell to the ground lifeless, around the girl and the corpse of her attacker were five other bodies. The ghosts of each stood dazed beside their bodies. They had no idea what had just happened.

The girl had slumped to the ground, sobbing.

The seal has been broken; you will need this girl and her powers if you are to stop what is to come.

Ava looked at her friend, if the bird’s word where true, and she had no reason for doubt, then Than was free. And if Than was free then she would need all the help she could get and one who was like him could be useful.

Dismounting, Ava dropped her glamour and startled Battlescry into flight. She wasn’t really worried about causing a panic anymore. The site of six seemingly healthy people dropping dead around a sobbing child had caused a kind of eerie calm. Much like the calm before the brake of a large storm. She needed to be careful, or the child might be hurt by the crowd. If showing them who and what she was would help the child then, all the better.

Ava knelt before the girl, slipping cool fingers under the her chin she tilted the girl’s head up so she could look at her. Tears streamed down the girl’s face, her eyes were red rimed and puffy.

“’m sorry. ’m sorry.” Sobbed the girl “Oi didn’t mean it.”

“What is your name?” Ava asked in a cool clear voice that made all those who watched her and the girl shiver.

“Val, Valdis Thanaughter.” Answered the girl, her voice thick with tears.

“Well then Valdis, would you like to come with me?”

Fear touched the girl’s eyes.

“I can teach you, so that nothing like this ever happens again.”

Val looked at her surroundings, taking in the bodies of the dead as well as their ghosts, and at the crowd that encircled them all. She looked back at the Lady and into her dark comforting eyes.

“A-ah’ight…” the girl stammered.

The lady nodded and helped the girl to her feet. As she stood Ava gathered the sprits of the dead into the fouls of her cloak. She mounted Bonecrusher and pulled Val up in front her. They rode through the town passing houses and shops, slipping down side streets avoiding the now growing crows. As the cobbled streets ended Ave and her companions rode out of the city. With a wave of her hand she opened the pathway to the border between the world of the living and the Twilight Realm of the dead.

She first needed to deliver the spirits of the dead to the Twilight Realm before she, Battlescry, Bonecrusher, and the young Valdis made their way to Epis and the border war, there and along the way she would begin training the girl.

The End

(For now)

#Pale Rider #short story #K.J.M.F.#Kay Forbes #writing #fantasy #Lady Death #death scene #Magic

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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Back...

Hay, so I’m going to try and start doing this again, I need a distraction. With the help of my niece and nephews I’ve started writing again, not very much, but still… Anyway, I’m going to try and start posting again.

#I'm back

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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Hiatus

I suffered a family loss this week, and need to take time to deal with it. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Hopeful my hiatus this time won’t be as long as my last one. Once I can focus on my writing again I’ll be back. Thank you all so much and please be patient with me.

#writeing #hiatus

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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New book! A collaborative work between several authors. Can't wait to start reading.

#new book #indigo #collaborative work #Charlene Harris #christopher golden #kelley armstrong #jonathan maberry #Kat Richardson #Seanan McGuire #tim lebbon #cherie priest #James A. Moore #Mark Morris

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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So ended up exchanging my computer, the one that I got last week was for my writing, but that was really all I could use it for. I wanted something that I could draw with as well. So I exchanged it and got something better for what I wanted.

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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My eyes change colors, I have no idea what that makes me.

I’m a demigod want are you?

#eye color #books #fandom

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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Hurley chilling on my blanket

#cat #rescue #tuxedo #harley quinn

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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A piece inspired by my short story instinct. Though I must admit I think I got the original idea from Bambi

#art #drawing #short story #instinct

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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Father’s Day

A day to let the very special men in your life know how important they are to you. I have no father, but I do have a Papa, my maternal grandfather. He is the best man I have ever known. My Papa has lived a long, distinguished life. In his youth, he served as a Navy C.B. or Seabee during Vietnam, and a diplomat during the cold war. He lived in Germany with his young family and traveled the world. After retiring from the Navy, he settled with his wife, high school sweet hearts, and their two children, in the high desert area of north eastern Oregon. When his teenage daughter made him a grandfather, he was my first baby sitter. I remember eating applesauce with him, and sneaking cups of tapioca pudding together. The only thing he could cook was chilly. When he’d cook he was one of those people that could burn food black and still have it raw in the middle. When my mother adopted my older half-sister he accepted her, treating her no different than my younger siblings or I. My Papa is the greatest man I have ever known, and this may very well be my last Father’s Day with him. I just and to say how much and love and respect my Papa.

#Father's Day #Johnny O. England

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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It had been a long time snits I worked on this piece, and it needed a lot more work than I thought.

Protectorate

The creature sat on its perch atop the cathedral, its clawed digits digging into the stone. Membranous wings stretched from the creature’s forelegs to midway down its hind quarters. Opening its oversized maw, the best let out a yattering yon. Silver scales, covering its leathery body, glinted in the pale light of the crescent moon.

Stretching out its forelegs, the beast took wing on the first breeze that could support its meager weight. A double ridge of spines ran down the creatures back from shoulders to its stub tail. A crown of horn like bumps combined with two small glittering dark eyes, pushed in pug like snout, flappy bat like ears, and protruding, crooked, oversized teeth, gave its face a gnarled appearance.

Gliding on the breeze, the beast let out a joyous whoop of garbled laughter, enjoying the feel of the wind on its wings. But its pleasure quickly evaporated as a high-pitched scream broke through the silence of the night.

* * * *

Diana walked swiftly the soft clicking of her heels the only sound. She tugged at the hem of her short skirt and pulled her jacket around herself more snugly, silently cursing Victoria for ditching her at the club for a couple of guys.

She hadn’t even wanted to go clubbing. It had been Vicky’s idea. Then Vicky had ditched her at the first opportunity. They’d had a few drinks, Diana soda, Vicky something fruity that smelled strongly of alcohol. But once Vicky had found someone else to hang with she had left Diana to her own devices.

She had stayed at the club for a while longer to watch over her friend but eventually lost track of the other girl. Diana, had searched for her friend for almost an hour, without success. Before she had learned from an acquaintance that Victoria had been seen slipping out the back with a couple of guys.

Diana was pissed. No! More than pissed; she was furious! How could Vicky be so irresponsible?! It wasn’t like they were good friends or anything but they were roommates… Damn it!

The sound of a shoe scuffing against stone made her jump. She looked around, but saw only shadows. Despite this the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Burrowing deeper into her too thin jacket and she picked up her pace heading back to the school campus and dorm she shared with Vicky.

Though she tried to shake off her unease, the feeling that someone was following her, watching her, had Diana jumping at nothing. Her heart was pounding so hard, she was certain it would burst from her chest. As the campus gates came into view, she breathed a sigh of relief. Not bothering to check her pace she hurried along, intent on her destination.

A hand slapped over her mouth as a strong arm wrapped around her, pulling her off her feet and dragging her into the alleyway. She struggled and tried to scream. Kicking, scratching, she flailed trying to break free of her captor. She bit down on his hand, and tasted blood. He jerked away and swore. She screamed and kicked backward. Somehow, managing to hit the large muscle in his thigh with the heel of her shoe. His grip went slack and he dropped her.

Scrambling away, Diana headed for the mouth of the alley, towards safety. But her attacker recovered too quickly. With a few short strides he had her, and with one massive blow he backhanded her, sending Diana flying into the nearest wall. With a sickening crack, her head struck stone and she crumpled to the ground.

* * * *

Crouching over the girl’s still form, he checked for a pulse and breath. With a grunt of satisfaction, he picked her up and swung the her over his shoulder. His employer wanted the bitch alive; she wasn’t worth much dead.

He stalked deeper into the shadows. An odd flapping sound had Owen looking up, but he could see nothing, and dismissed the sound with a shake of his head. Walking farther into the depths of the alley, he put the girl down on the trash covered pavement. Pulling her jacket open, he gave her outfit and body a quick appreciative once over, before he set about ensuring this was indeed the woman he had been sent for.

Olive skin, smoky brown curls, he pried open one eye lid to check the color, blue gray. He looked for her purse and swore when he couldn’t find it, realizing she must have dropped it when he had grabbed her at the mouth of the alley.

Not wanting to waste time, Owen tore her jacket from her back and turned her on her side. He examined her left shoulder searching for… Ah! There it was, the inverted crescent shaped scar. His employer was a rare sub species of supernatural. His species was so rare that there were only fifty of them in the U.S. and less than five hundred the world over.

And this woman, Diana Millard, was a carrier of his employer’s race. His employer was a man coming to the end of his years. He needed a breeder to continue his line, and that is what this girl was for. How she would be used …well that wasn’t his concern. But it was his job to make sure she was delivered.

An unearthly screeching had Owen spinning, calling flames to dance across his fingers. He was a son of Ukobach, a fire demon. As a demon-born a part of his father’s gift was also his to command. Letting go of the girl, she rolled onto her back resting back on the pavement. Slipping one beefy hand into his pocket he pulled out switchblade. Opening the knife, he let the flames dancing across his skin, and take the steel, making it gleam as they slid across its length.

Turning in a slow circle, his eyes darting from left to right. Nothing… and then..! That horrifying screech sounded again, giving him just enough time to see his attacker before the beast collided with his head, knocking him to the ground. Rolling onto his stomach, Owen pushed himself up onto his elbows. Moving slowly, bit by bit until he had a good view of the creature now crouched beside the girl.

The very sight of the creature terrified Owen to his core. The beast was a sickly mix of lizard, bat, and bulldog. He watched transfixed as the monster sniffed at the girl for serval moments before rounding on him, bearing gnarled fangs. Fearing for his life Owen scrambled away fleeing down the alley and disappearing into the night.

* * * *

With the man out of sight, the creature returned its attention to the girl. As the beast nudged her she slowly began to rouse. Her head was pounding. She felt dizzy and nauseous. After several moments, she managed to push. herself up into a sitting position. Taking serval gulps of air, to help settle her stomach, Diana took in her surroundings.

She was still in the alley, further in, but still… Looking at the beast, it was the homeliness little creature she had ever seen. The combination of its smushed face, crooked protruding teeth, and squat little body, she found it to be, the oddest, ugliest little thing. In fact, it was so ugly it was almost… cute!

Stretching out a cautious hand, Diana smiled when the monster wagged its stubbed tail. As she scratched behind one frilled ear, the creature closed its eyes, and leaned against her hand, enjoying the affection.

“Did you save me?” She asked softly, wondering aloud, the creature just “Gwafed” at her.

“What are you…?” she asked amazed.

After giving the girl several rough, licks that made her giggle, the monster jumped away from her, and leapt onto a nearby stone wall. Its claws sinking into brick as it climbed upward. Diana watched in awe as the creature climbed to the roof of the nearest building and leapt, managing to catch a current of air beneath its membranous wings.

Sighing she got to her feet, brushed herself off, and made her way back to the street. She was relieved to see her purse laying on the sidewalk just outside the mouth of the alley. Digging in her bag, Diana fished out her cell phone and called for a cab to take her to the nearest hospital. She wasn’t that hurt and she didn’t think she had a concussion, but she knew it would be better if she got checked out anyway.

* * * *

The creature alighted upon its perch atop the cathedral it called home, claws sinking into familiar stone. Settling down the beast stretched out on its perch and watched the sky as it began to lighten with the coming of dawn. The first rays of sunshine glinted off the stone spires of the church and shown upon the gargoyles that roosted there.

The End

#short story #urban fantasy #gargoyle #Kay Forbes #K.J.M.F.

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

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This piece needed a little more work then, The Black, but overall not much editing was needed.

Dance

The gentile murmur of whispered voices is the only sound to reach my ears. The air is rich with the green scents of damp earth, decay, and vegetation. The ground is soft beneath my bare feet, and a cool breeze blows agents my face. I can see the silhouettes of slender bodies slipping through the shadows all around me. Though I can��t see them clearly, what I do see of them is both breathtakingly beautiful and terrifying. It seems as though the forest itself has come alive and taken human shape. I am afraid, made nervous by what I am seeing.

Before me is a stone dais, with two thrones atop it. One slightly larger then the other they look as though they were grown from a pair of hawthorn trees. Sitting on those thrones is an odd pair that seems to be the physical embodiment of spring. They have an air about them that screams of royalty.

In the larger of the two thrones sits a woman. Her skin is the pail shimmering blue of a summer stream. There isn’t enough light to tell the color of her eyes. Her hair, the color of sunlit honey, is dune up in an intricate braid that twines itself down an around her body ending in a coil by her delicate looking, bare, feet. On her back sits a pair of incandesce wings, much like what one might find on a dragonfly.

The gown she wears brings to mind images of the cascades with its flowing swirling colors of clear blue and white. On her head she wears a simple circlet of silver with a single clear jewel dangling on her forehead. With her left hand she clasped the right of the man sitting beside her, but with her right she holds a silver and white ashwood staff.

Her beauty is not something that can be adequately described with words. She is splendor and grace the likes of which I have never seen. She has the kind of wild elegance that is found only in myth and folklore. She easily could have been the inspiration for any number of goddesses through out mythology.

If this woman is the physical embodiment of the waters of spring then the man beside her is the green growth of spring. Like his mistress this man is beauty beyond compare. Though he has a masculine air about him.

His skin is the young soft green of fresh spring grass. His shoulder length hair and short beard, are reddish amber in color. As with the woman beside him I can not tell the color of the green man’s eyes.

On his feet he has a pair of snappy black boots. The worn leather pants he’s wearing leaves nothing to the imagination when it comes to that lean, hard, body of his. He wares no shirt just an open leather vest that shows off a muscled chest, flat stomach and strong arms. He too wares a circlet upon his head, though his is gold rather then silver like the woman’s. No jewels dangle from his circlet, but at his waist gleams the golden hilt of a sword.

It is almost as if they are dressed in garb for a renaissance festival. They both have the pointed ears, large eyes, and sharp facial features that always come to mind when one thinks of the fair folk, such as elves and fairies. Because of this I can not help but feel as though I have slipped into some other worldly dimension. I do not know where I am or how it is that I have come to be in this place. I am at a loss for what to do.

It seems that I have been lost in my own thoughts for too long. I do not know what just happened a moment ago, but four players have just come from out of the shadows to stand before the stone dais. Each is clutching an instrument of some kind.

It is only because I have attended the Highland Games stints I was a child that I recognize the instruments they carry. The first and only woman of the group carries a Bodhran, a Scottish drum. Her skin and waist length hair are the same pail green color. Her hair has dozens of cherry blossoms each woven into it. She is bare footed and is wearing a short wispy dress the same pail color as the blossoms in her hair.

To the green woman’s right is a man holding a Clàrsach, a Scottish harp. The man can only be described as a fox in men’s clothing. He has pail skin is sharply accented by his reddish orange hair, black tipped fox like ears sticking up from the top of his head, and a bushy white tipped tail. He is tall, towering over the other by at least a foot. He is dressed all in black, leaving only his head, hands, and tail exposed.

To the fox man’s right is gray skinned man with dark blue hair, tuning a lute. He is dressed simply in a pair of worn jeans, a D.C. Comics Aquaman t-shirt, and an old pair of converse. His gray skin seems shiny. Almost slimy looking. Looking at his hands as he tunes the lute I can see that his fingers are slightly webbed.

To the right of gray one, is a white man. White skin, whit hair, white cloths. He is the only one among the quartet with a pair of incandesce wings on his back, like the woman on the dais above them. In his hands he holds a pan flute.

The four turn to me. I can feel their intense gaze on me. It makes my skin creep and my body shake. Though I can not tell you why this is so. My mouth is dry and I wish I had something to drink. But I know my folklore I must not eat or drink anything that comes from he fairland. Though for the life of me I can not remember why.

The quartet has begun to play. Their music is soft and sweet. It is filling my mind, and I am having a hard time thinking of anything else. There is only the music and I must dance.

* * * *

The music thrums, my hips move, and the music flows. I close my eyes to listen. It is not what I expected. Linkin Park, my favorite band. “Shadow Of The Day”, my favorite song. I can feel my heart beating in time with the drum. I begin to twirl, my dusky hair swinging out behind me, as my skirt furls around me.

I sing along with the chorus.

“And the sun will set for you. The sun will set for you. And the shadow of the day. Will embrace the world in grey. And the sun will set for you.”

The song flows from my lips, as my body moves to the beat, the rhythm ponds in my blood, and I forget that I’m afraid. That these people freak me out and make me nervous.

I can feel fingers touching me, soft and light, they brush over my skin and tug at my dress. I can smell them. Their bodies moving about me, sweat mixed with earth and air, fire and water.

Slowly I open my eyes, and I can see the currents of air, sky blue and lavender, forest green and rose, ebony and silver, gold and pail yellow, blood red and fire orange. My eyes see this and my mind accepts it. It doesn’t mater that air has no color. I can see the color that is there.

I spin and whorl, my feet leading the dance, the chorus ring out once more and I continue to sing along.

“And the sun will set for you. The sun will set for you. And the shadow of the day. Will embrace the world in grey. And the sun will set for you.”

My heart is full and I see the air spark with the heat of the bodies all around me, faces drift in and out of view. All vaguely human but far too beautiful to be truly so.

A man with fawn brown skin, doe brown eyes and twelve point rack of antlers sprouting from his forehead, brushes dark fingers across my cheek. A woman with pail green skin and violet blossoms sprouting from her dark green hair, clasps my wrists and whirl us both in a gentle spin, her leaf green eyes dancing with mirth.

On I dance, the song continues in an endless thrum. I can no longer hear the words, just the beat. I continue to move letting my feet fallow my heart.

More faces drift into view, a woman with pail skin and silver hair, and dark, dark eyes. A man with a wolf like face and delicately pointed ears. On and on they come, one right after another. Too many to count. Each beautiful, dangerous, deadly. They touch and gently cress my body.

The tempo picks up, the song plays faster. I twirl, and whirl. Spinning faster and faster. The faces become a blur, as my speed picks up. Those gentle cresses become painful, slaps, shoves, and pinches.

But on I dance, unable to stop. My feet throb in time with my heartbeat. Fear grips me as it never has before. I think that I shall die. I fear the dance will never stop, and my body will give out before long.

I can feel blood welling in the dirt beneath my feet. My body hurts, I want to stop, but can’t. My body doesn’t listen to my commands. There is nothing I can do.

Finally, at long last, the music begins to wane, the song to slow. The hard slaps, painful shoves, and sharp pinches become soft touches and gentle caresses once more.

As the song ends, the magic of the music releases me; I collapse in my tracks, falling to the ground. My body aches. My world is nothing but this pain. My breathing slows as my eyes drift close and exhaustion sets in. There is dirt in my mouth and twigs in my hair, but I don’t care, all I want is to sleep. To rest. To slip into a dreamless oblivion.

The End

#Dance #short story #faerie #fairies #Lincon Park #Shadow Of The Day #Kay Forbes #K.J.M.F.#fantasy

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idarkshewolf · 7 years

Text

I’ve been editing some of my old work, this piece didn’t need much, just some grammar touchups. But I decided to repost it anyway. I intend to do the same with the rest of my previous pieces as well. So, pleas look forward to it.

The Black

The sun glinted off her hooves as she stepped into the clearing. Bending her slender neck down so she could drink from the clear pool. She caught her reflection; she was the opposite of her kin in every way. Her coat was night black to their snow white, her spiraled horn and sleek hooves where silver to their gold and her eyes a deep shade of violet, to their shining sapphire.

Both her dam and sire where white unicorns, while she was a black, a throwback to The Father Of Unicorns, Blackstar, the only black unicorn in history… until now.

The seasons had turned four full times since her birth, and ever since the new stallion, Bloodsong, had driven her from the heard, she had been searching for her place in the world.

Silvernight drank deeply from the pool, swishing her tail softly. Suddenly she heard a noise, her head shot up, and her ears swiveled back and forth searching for the source. Inhaling deeply, she caught their sent. It was the scent of Man. She had to reach the cover of the trees, before they reached her!

Jumping over the banks of the pool she raced into the dark woods, blending with the shadows, she invoked her magic and disappeared. She ran for what seemed like hours. When she was sure the threat was over she slowed to a gentle walk. Finely stopping in a dark thicket, and lied down for a short rest. Closing her eyes, she was asleep in moments.

She was running, running along a path made of stars and moonlight. She was running towards him, but no matter how fast or how far she ran he never seemed to be within reach.

She awoke disgruntled, it was the same dream every time, she didn’t know who she was running to, all she knew was that he lies in the direction of the rising moon. Ever since Bloodsong had driven her from the herd, she had been traveling, towards the rising moon and the one that waited for her there.

Once more she walked through the forest, in the direction of moon rise. She traveled all night and well into the morn. The forest began to thin and soon she found that she stood at the bank of a sea of tall grasses blue, green, and golden in color. She knew instinctively that this was man’s land. She dares not go further, but… The call that drove her was an instinct that she could not deny.

Carefully she stepped into the strange new land. The tall grasses reached her shoulders, and tickled her nose. Invoking her magic, she took off running at a full gallop. All that looked upon her would see only flitting shadow. And so, she ran, and ran, and ran. All day, and all night, never daring to stop. She ran until the sun set and night descended, and the sun rose once more and still she ran. Her magic giving her the strength she needed.

She ran for two whole days and nights without ever stopping, for fear of meeting man. Finely on the third night she could run no more, and collapsed in her tracks.

Even in her dreams she found no rest, always running, running along the path of stars and moonlight. Still she ran towards him, but no matter how far or how fast she ran he was never within reach.

Voices aroused her from the deep slumber, someone was touching her! Mortal hands touched her! How dare they!

She began to raise, and someone shouted.

“Oy! Watch out! She’s gettin’ up, careful lads!”

Once she was on her feet she saw them, five men, three on mortal horses, and two afoot. There where ropes in their hands, one already about her neck. She rose on her haunches and kicked out with her front hooves, striking one of the two men on foot.

The man fell and did not rise. The others backed a way slowly keeping their distance but keeping her surrounded. The men on horseback began to throw rope loops over her head. She tried to ask the mortal horses for help, but it was no use, they too were captives, and the men had the stinging wipes and sharp spurs.

Already exhausted from using too much magic she was easily captured. To her shame Silvernight was taken to a place called the “Service Fair” and was sold to a little fat man. He smelled of sweat and filth, he dressed in furs and good leathers. She learned that he was a horse merchant who dealt in rare breeds. He had spent his life’s fortune to purchase her.

It had taken little more than half a day’s travel for the fat man to take her back to his stables where the man dared to put a bridle on her, and tided her to a post. There were several horses, but she was the only immortal. The man began to inspect her hooves, she kicked, sending him to the groaned; she didn’t realize her mistake, until it was too late.

The cuts from the wipe still stung, days later. It was times like these that she wished for the power to heal, like her mother. But she had her father’s gift to hide in plan site, and to become one with the shadows of the forest. She was tiered and in pain, and had had little food and water over the last week. Her legs shook from the effort to keep standing. And she had had little chance to replenish her magic reserves.

Her sleek black coat was dull and cakes in spots with old and fresh blood. The fat man whipped her regularly for his disobedience. Try as he might he could not beat out the glint in her eyes that was the spark of grate spirit of her kind.

As dawn approached, Silvernight felt the muscles of her body involuntarily constrict, with the sun the fat man would awaken. She hated him. The hate she had for him was more than the normal fear she held in her heart for human kind. He had a cruelness that touched his very soul. And each time he touched her she felt tainted by it.

Too exhausted or distracted by her own thoughts and fears she did not notices when the intruder entered her pen until her herd the soft scuff of leather over earth and stone. The intruder was small, much smaller than the fat man, and whore a dark green cloak that obscured their form making it impossible for Silvernight to tell if the intruder was male or female.

Two ivory colored hands grasped the unicorn’s muzzle, and a dark feminine voice full of midnight and night skies filled her mind, {Do not fear hoof sister, I will get you out of here and to where you belong.}

From where the intruder’s hands touched her, Silvernight felt an icy coolness spread through her body. Slowly, gently and with great care each of her wounds mended, and she felt her still depleted magic reserves begin to refill themselves. By the time the intruder was done working her spell Silvernight’s wounds where healed, she was full of magical energy, and the morning sun had risen well into the sky.

The intruder sagged notably after releasing the unicorn’s muzzle, and with shaky hands drew a dagger from a belt sheath. As the intruder reached for the bridle that kept Silvernight tied to the post the fat man came racing from his dwelling shouting at the intruder.

{Run now hoof sister!} said the voice as the intruder sliced the bridle from Silvernight head with practiced ease.

Rearing up on her hind quarters Silvernight lept over the wooden beams of her pen and raced off into the distance, not daring to look back to see what befell the intruder and the fat man.

For three days, she ran toward the rising moon, feeling a silent invisible tug at the edge of her mind. When finely she creased over a gently rising hill that lead in to a lush green valley. There in the center of the valley, was an ivory skinned elf woman wearing the same dark green cloak as the intruder who had saved her from the fat man and The Father Of Unicorns, Blackstar, The Black!

THE END

#short story #writeing #The Black #Kay Forbes #K.J.M.F.#fantasy

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