Something stares at me from the end of the lawn every morning.
At first I thought it was a shadow, the way the sun cast its light against a tangle of trees and shrubs. At first, I thought it was nothing, just my imagination on a cold morning. At first I thought it was nothing…
Yet each day it watches, me just on the edge of civilization, at the edge where the bramble by the stream rises up to meet the manicured lawn of my apartment complex. It stands there, just inside the shadows, possibly human, possibly not. I think it’s just my imagination…
Every day it watches me.
Author L Becker: This is how the end of the world shall be written….
Storytime again! This time we’re getting a tidbit from Chapter 2 of Angel’s Gate. Angel’s Gate is the first book in my ShadowGate Series. Available now for purchase. Today I wanted to give you a little preview, the beginning of Chapter 2. We are introduced to our MC, AG’s, childhood home. Read on for a teaser of Angel’s Gate or click the video above to have me read to you!
Chapter 2 – Angel’s Gate:
It still looked the same.
With the gray of dawn spreading through the streets, it looked to AG as if no time had passed since she had left Shelter Cove. As if the last decade had simply been erased. The mountains cupped it on three sides, their shoulders heavy with the deep green of pine and hemlock. The slinking mists of early dawn rolled in off the lake, disguising the signs of progress, the scars left by time. It was easy not to notice the scattering of new houses set back in the trees or the new marina, swallowed by the morning fog as it stretched out into the still, dark waters. There were other signs time hadn’t stood still, yet not enough to remove the strange and sinking sensation that she had never really escaped.
She was not the same kid who had left, in that decade she had found her freedom, her strength and one quick trip back couldn’t strip all of it away. Could it? She wasn’t a child anymore and this wasn’t her world. Still the feeling of being sucked back in time remained with her, darkening her heart and thoughts.
The SUV wove its way through the familiar roads and she found herself remembering her childhood at every turn. There was the corner she had crashed her new ten speed on Christmas twenty years before. There was the high school where she had kissed her first boy and done a lot more than that a night or two in senior year. Those were memories she looked back fondly on. She had loved Luke Olson as only a teenage girl could and he had been a sweet boy.
Somewhere she had heard he was married, the father of two. Still a sweet boy.
There was the Midtown Market, where she had worked her first job the summer she turned sixteen…
Shelter Cove was filled with memories, both good and bad, but it would never again be her home. She could not see herself growing old in that place. She couldn’t see herself ever giving up her career and life in San Francisco to live in that postage stamp town. Couldn’t imagine herself marrying and raising a passel of kids, with two cars in the drive and a dog in the yard. She couldn’t imagine that as her life, even though a small voice whispered it would have been easy to if she tried. She didn’t want to try. That domestic vision was what her mother had wanted and had never achieved. She wasn’t going to want the same thing and spend her life regretting when it never happened. She was smarter than that. She would make the life she wanted and her life was in California, three thousand miles away.
When they turned onto the street leading to her childhood home the pain inside of AG seemed to shift, expand. Unconsciously she raised a hand to press it against her heart. Home…
The house still stood as it always had, two stories, rich brown siding with a wide porch and peaked ceiling. Two large windows looked out onto the carefully kept lawn, one from the living room, the other from the breakfast nook. In the dim morning light the house looked tired, sad. Or that was how AG felt inside as she looked at it, knowing it was empty.
Until next time,
L
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In the beginning before the Universe, before Light, before Dark, before Life and before Death was the Source. In the great void of infinity the Source became restless and from itself, from all that was Darkness it created Ahiloban, goddess, darkness, divine. To serve her and to serve the Source the Elohim were created, twelve to govern the houses of the Universe yet unborn, to serve and to watch. For time beyond time all was as it should be. Ahiloban was beloved, child of the Source and she was content.
But in all things there must be balance and with an explosion of energy and Life and Light the Universe was born and with it, Shamshiel, child of the Source, the personification of all that was Light. He was the other half of Ahiloban but she did not embrace her brother. She envied him the Light, never understanding that without Darkness there could be no Light and without Light she could not exist. In her jealousy she stripped him of his powers because he was young, an innocent, an infant, and bound him. She hid him from the Source, diminishing him until all believed him nothing more than another Elohim, made to serve her, to serve the Source. The Source wept at his loss, but believed the lie of the first of it’s children. Safe in her lie Ahiloban wrapped the night, like a blanket of Darkness over the newborn Light and took him to her lover, the Elohim Ezrael to raise and control, never telling her what he was though she suspected for she was wise. But like her she feared this new being of immense powers and agreed to keep him hidden from the Source and from his true nature. Rid of him she was once more the only beloved of the Source. She was content to rule now over the entirety of Light and Dark.
Shamshiel was taken to the Court of the Watchers and there his powers were bound as he was placed in submission to Ezrael. But his powers were beyond all imaginings and in a moment of pure creation he created an entire world on which the elements of life were gifted. Frightened at the power this singular being could wield, Ezrael took him deep into the farthest reaches of the Universe, leaving the Earth, the world of his creation unguarded, uncared for. Ahiloban, curious if she too could create life took the elements of the Universe, the gifts within herself of the Source and created God, Yahweh, a creature of Life and Light. But in the moment of his creation, to the horror of Ahiloban another being came into existence, this one the embodiment of Darkness, of Death. It was Azazel, the Reaper, at whose hand even God would be mortal. Again Ahiloban did not understand that where there is Light there is Darkness, where there is Life there is Death, for these are the two sides, the Balance of Creation, the Balance that only the Source can fully understand.
Ahiloban was pleased with Yahweh, and took him to be her lover, gifting him the world that had been Shamshiel’s creation. Over this God would rule and together they spent millennia tending, watching and shaping the evolution of the life Shamshiel had birthed. The first lives were insignificant, boring and so God and Ahiloban came together and from their union they created Talis, a being of immense light and power and with him, his twin, Lucifer. Talis they called the Evening Star and Lucifer, the younger, the brightest, they called the MorningStar. These were the first of the angels, the first of all they would create. They were created to serve and worship. Again Darkness came with the Light and Ahiloban pushed forth not only the twins of Light, but one of Darkness, Errant, the first of the Daemos, into whom all sin and blame should dwell. He was given wings and bright fangs and in her disgust at the Darkness she could not escape, Ahiloban placed upon him the curse of evil and sin. And as Errant was birthed, a part of the Shadow dripped the heavens and fell to earth. There it formed the Serpent, a creature made from the vileness that Ahiloban had meant to place into Errant’s heart. From the earth the Serpent looked up and he coveted what his brothers had been given. And that envy grew into hate for those who had created him. He vowed with all the Darkness inside of him to one day kill his creators and take into himself all the power of Life and Creation.
The sons of God, of Ahiloban were given unto the Earth. Not to rule, but to serve. The twin stars were placed above the world, to serve and guide. Look up to these stars my children and see now shines only one. Too long has the brightest fallen, the night empty now with his loss. Alone his brother stands, steadfast against the Dark.
For another millions lifetimes Ahiloban and her consort amused themselves watching life begin on earth and by pitting their sons against one another. But as was His nature God became bored and from Ahiloban he pulled the essence of her powers and created beings of his own, those who would serve only him. They were rough in form and would take millennia to become what he wanted. But in those moments he seeded dissent and anger, he violated his creator and sowed the first seeds of her endless rage. On earth life flourished, growing, evolving at His will until a new creature began to walk the earth and caught His interest. With rapt attention He watched as hominids grew into humans and they pleased Him on their growth. But soon He became impatient with the pace of their evolution and He sent them down intelligence, gave them creative and clever minds.
Angry that God would take from her, create something without her Ahiloban created more creatures of her own, Behemoth and Leviathan, those creatures that were fated to bring the end of all things. She spun life with her anger, using shadow and shunning the light from which she was not formed and created other creatures, the demoness Lilith for her son Errant to love and to create life with, (name of Werewolf) the first werebeast, (name of dragon) the first of the Drakes and (name of faery) the first of the fey. From these creatures new races would grow, races that fed on God’s precious humans, the creatures she so dispised.
Fearing for the lives of his newest creation God took strength and life from Talis and from his drew out the very first of the Choirs of Angels, the Powers. These power and ruthless warriors he sent to earth to protect his creations from those Ahiloban had sent against them.
Furious that God would send these dark hunters after her children she sent a plague of ice to the world, believing it would kill off the life God had created against her will. Much of the planet died, but the earth that Shamshiel had created was magnificent and continued to evolve and on it life survived, the demonkind, the hominids, the children of Ahiloban and the animals that had evolved from the life given by Shamshiel. Life continued and growing bored once more God sent a new thread into his hominids and from them came the ancestors of modern man. Disgusted by his attentions to these humans, Ahiloban left her consort, going into the court of the watchers and there taking lovers among them. Alone in Heaven God studied the beings he had created with Ahiloban at his side and found he feared them, for they were powerful and could one day take from him the power he now coveted, the power he wanted to take from his creator. Fearing her, fearing the children they had made he stole from her sons the memory of who she was, taking from them the memories of their celestial mother and making them believe only HE was their creation. Lucifer and Errant easily forgot, but in Talis, as the first born, there was too much strength for him to forget, and more, God feared that one day his son would seek to take from him as he now sought to take from Ahiloban. Following his fear he pulled from Talis the rest of the Choirs, seeking to diminish him, to lessen his powers so that he would always remain loyal, always remain subservient to him.
Ahiloban returned to find that none of her sons remembered her, returned to find God had created an army of angels to serve him. In her anger she granted his humans freewill so he would learn what it was like to have a creation that did not obey, that did not serve. Looking down on all of thise the Source granted these creatures, these humans, the most precious of gifts, something that God could not control, that not even Ahiloban could claim, souls. They were given this great gift and placed on the Path to Enlightenment. And for them the Source created the Void and the Pit to help guide them on their place, to help teach them the lessons they would need to evolve past the flaws of their creators.
Over these creatures, now flawed, but now the more precious for their souls, God placed his angels. It was they who watched as life was born from the seeds God had planted long ago. It was they who watched as man took his first steps and spread across the globe. They watched and they served and God was pleased by all he had wrought. Beside him in heaven Ahiloban seethed, wanting her revenge. She began to have her fears that God sought more than just power of his creations and she created the TrueGuard, Daemos born of pure Illumination to help protect her from the Choirs of his Angels. The TrueGuard stood beside her throne and would protect her from any angelica assassin he might send to attack her.
Upon the earth the Serpent grew restless and urged on by Ahiloban found a young Daemos, Chaos the first born of Errant and Lilith, playing down among the humans. He quickly possessed him in a cloud of Shadow and Darkness and rode him up to heaven where Daemos played and lived among the Choirs. There he set about on his endeavor to destroy the one who gave him birth aided by the whispers of the goddess Ahiloban. The Serpent sought out the one known as Lucifer, curling up around him like a dank fog, possessing him, and whispered in his ear, “Why should the humans be so blessed? Why should their will be their own? Why should you, the first of God’s creations prostrate yourself before them?” With his words the Serpent planted the seeds of discontent and rebellion in the heart the brightest angel. Lucifer approached his God and begged for the same love given so easily, so freely to the humans who were born of nothing more than mud, while he and his kind were born from the stars and the breath of Ahiloban and God. Furious that Lucifer should question the laws he had branded into the Spirits of each of his angels God refused and in rage, fueled by the whipsers of the Serpent that possessed him, Lucifer rebelled against his God and many angels joined him.
Enraged God ordered Talis to destroy his brother and thus the First War began. Many angels died and in the middle of the conflict, though innocent of any deceit, the Daemos were murdered. Blood flowed through all of heaven as brother killed brother and sister murdered sister. At long last Talis defeated his brother, but as Lucifer lay at his feet, he could not make himself slay his twin. He would not do this, even though his God, his father had demanded it. He refused and God was sorely displeased with his disobedience and he struck down his very first creation and threw him into the Pit where he would be tortured and suffer for all eternity. God turned upon Lucifer and cast him and all of his followers out of heaven where they fell to earth in the shower fire.
The Morning Star fell because of a single lie. For a single whisper he was damned. It was but a single seed of rebellion that took root in the heart of him. It bloomed into war and blood flowed like water raining down upon the earth. The heavens wept while stars died. Angels turned from the will of God and were cast down, sent far from his glory to live no more in His Light.
Cast far from Heaven, Lucifer fell to Earth where he lay for nine days, suffering from the wounds his brother had given him and mourning the loss of his God and his home. Mourning the loss of his brother, knowing that his brother would be punished for his sins. When he could rise up once more he begged God for the freedom of his brother, but God would not heed his call. God looked upon His creations, angry that his Firsts had so fallen. Like a shadow they spread across the land and in his rage he cast all Darkness from the Heavens. Like a thorn he plucked out the Daemos and scattered them across the Earth. Cast down was Errant, first born from the Darkness, and all of his children. Into him all sin shall flow, in him all sin shall be found. His progeny shall overflow the earth and shall mingle with the children of men. Pity him all ye peoples, pity him for his birth. Pity him for redemption shall not be his, nor shall it be offered to those from him that were born.
In his rage God murdered the TrueGuard that served around Ahiloban’s throne because they reminded him of the sons he had lost. The last TrueGuard, a female, pregnant and afraid escaped from the Citadel with the help of the Virtue Vision, she escaped into the Verge, into the Lost Forest and there all believed she would die, alone. Enraged at God’s destruction of her TrueGuard Ahiloban left God to wander the earth in earthly form, many of God’s humans turned to her, began to worship her and so the DeaServus were formed to serve only her.
Then Shamshiel the Elohim, the Watcher of the Sun, took mercy upon Lucifer, took mercy upon Talis who had not been able to kill the brother that he loved. He freed Talis and set him back into the heavens though it cost him, as his master Ezrael was sorely displeased. For his actions Shamshiel was bound for 5,000 years in the heart the sun. Alone, in silence and in darkness, driven mad by his solitude.
Talis, released from the Pit, returned to humbly serve his God, scared to ever displease him again.
Ezrael saw how much horror the battle in the heavens had caused and she created the Gate, to which there would be only one Key. A Key in which she placed inside of herself. Through the Gate only the Pure angels, the ones who had obeyed their God, and only the souls of the humans as they followed the cycle of birth, death, rebirth, were able to pass.
Beneath the sun the Serpent crept, always looking heavenward, desperate to return and take his place upon the throne.
On earth the Serpent found his way back into heaven, in the heart of an honorable and righteous man, one that pleased God in his purity. The serpent possessed this man, this servent of God, Enoch, and when God granted Enoch a place in heaven as Metatron, the highest of his house, the very voice of God, the Serpent was the one given that honor.
Upon the earth the DownCast angels walked among man, taking unto them wives of the daughters of man. And to them were born the Nephlim and they became the heroes of old. Peace lay among the heavens and for time ruled the earth. (God fears the Nephilim because they are angels with Souls. God orders them to be murdered and Ahiloban sets up a way to steal them for her own use. Dark Nephilim do NOT have souls, but Light Nephilim do.)
In heaven, with Metatron whispering his lies, set on taking God’s throne and creation from him, God began to fear Ahiloban more, began to desire and covet her world and creations. He no longer wanted to share the glory of creation with her. With the help of his angels, with the help of the Elohim who had also begun to fear Ahiloban and her powers, God bound her and locked her deep into the heart of the very earth she had ruled and protected for so long. Using the life and power of her own creation, Leviathan, God locked her away beneath the sixty six seals held inside the very soul of Leviathan and his twin, Behemoth. As the Elohim drug him deep beneath the waves, bound him in the deepest, darkest trenches of the earth, in silence and in cold, in darkness and despair, the thrashings of his immense body sent a tidal flood that washed over all the earth. Killing many of God’s and Ahiloban’s creations. Few remained alive to repopulate the world. It was Talis who drove the last of the chains into place, proving his loyalty once and for all to his God. (The key to Leviathan’s chains is bound to God’s life force.)
In heaven Metatron sought to gain control over the Gate between worlds, a way to free himself to travel to the other realms and to gain dominion over God. He attacked the Elohim Ezrael, killing her. As Ezrael died she fled to earth and there passed the precious Key into a mortal vessel, there to remain out of reach from Metatron who could not pass through the Gate to Earth. There the Key took on human form and through the centuries was passed, mother to child until a dark angel took the human Key and placed inside of her a child born of the Sangrael and of Darkness. She was born a ShadowGate, a creature wholly unique. In her was the power over the Gate that none, not even the Elohim Ezrael had possessed, for inside her was a human soul, inside her was the Shadow and the Light, and more she possessed the gift of freewill.
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Angel’s Gate is only 8 months away. 8 months from now and I get to share the first of the ShadowGate with the world. 8 months….feels like a lifetime away. I know you’re anxious to finally have a chance to read Angel’s Gate, so here’s the first 500 words to hold you over for a while.
“Life wasn’t supposed to move this fast. From birth to death
so quickly. It was all too fast, too…over. So many words had been left
unspoken, so many questions still unasked. So many things still unresolved
between them, but now…now there was no more time. One sentence…one sentence had
changed her life, shattered everything. Four words, one death and everything
she had worked so hard to achieve seemed worthless.
Your mother is dead.
For AG Morris those words had stolen everything.
Four words and here she stood waiting for a flight to take
her back to the one place she had never wanted to return. A flight that would
take her home. Home…no…no, it wasn’t home. Not now. Her mother was gone.
Around her was movement, life, sound. Laughter. There
shouldn’t have been laughter. Shouldn’t the world have stopped along with her
own grief? The weight inside of her seemed to expand, compressing her lungs
until she felt she couldn’t breathe. The grief was so huge it should have
compressed the entire world. But it didn’t. The pain was only inside of her.
The loss was only inside of her.
She wished those words could be erased from her mind, that
they could be taken back. That she could return to that morning when everything
was alright. When it mattered that the sun was shining, that she was breathing.
The words didn’t fade, they didn’t go away.
So much time had been lost, there were so many things she
had meant to say. So many apologies she had meant to make. Now she would never
be able to apologize for words once spoken in anger. She would never be able to
close the gap they had both pretended wasn’t there. She would never be able to
forgive her mother for the abnormal childhood she had lived. She would never be
able to ask why. Why an intelligent woman would carve spells into the window
sills to ward off demons and to bind angels. She would never know now why her
mother had hated her father so much that she had never even whispered his name.
Your mother is dead.
AG closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the
wall. The waiting area near the terminal gate was over crowded. There were no
open seats, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she was sitting on the
floor, shoved into a corner between a stroller with a cranky two year old and
an early twenty something that smelled like weed. All she wanted was to turn
back time. She would have done anything to be at home, in her own house, in her
own bed, and not there. Anything.
She opened her eyes slowly, hugging her knees. She watched a
pair of teenagers walk across the terminal, heads bowed over their smart
phones, but she wasn’t really seeing them. She wasn’t seeing anything. She was
just…waiting. Waiting for her flight and waiting to wake up from what she knew
wasn’t a dream. She was just…” – Angel’s Gate by L. Becker
John walked into
the kitchen, turned to toss his keys onto the table and stared. He couldn’t help it. Lying there in the center of the table were
his keys. The very same keys he held in his hand. He looked long at the keys on the table. They
had the same bottle opener for a key ring.
There was even the same 49er key his five year old niece had given him
for his birthday. He looked down at the keys in his hand, rolled them in his
fingers. They were real. He reached out with his other hand and
touched the keys on the table. They
chinked when he touched them. They too
were real. He picked them up and held
both sets, one in each hand and there was no way to tell them apart. He turned and carrying both key rings walked
back to the front of the house, looking as he went. Everything looked as it should, and there his
car sat where he had just parked it. Or
did it? Had he ran part of the wheel
onto the lawn? He searched his mind, he
couldn’t remember if he had. He turned
away from the window and looked around the living room. There was nothing different then there should
have been.
He
shrugged, his mind was playing tricks on him.
So, he had found a set of keys like his own. That didn’t have to be that strange, did
it? He returned to the kitchen, he was
still thirsty. Everything inside of him
went still, as there in the center of the table were his keys. His eyes slowly lowered to the keys in his
hand. Two sets, yet there, staring at
him, was a third. He felt everything
grow still around him, even the house seemed to hold its breath as he made
himself walk to the table. Reach out to
take the keys again. They were real,
heavy in his hand. He closed his
eyes. Was he losing his mind? Was he perhaps asleep? He forced himself to walk out of the kitchen
into the hall. Again his eyes swept the
rooms spreading around him, his ears strained to hear. No one was there, no sound could be heard to
alert him that someone was trying to play a prank on him. But they had to be, right?
He couldn’t seem to shake the feeling
that something was amiss. Even though
everything else seemed as it should, it didn’t feel the same. Again he went to the window and looked at the
car. It was still parked, tire partially
on the lawn. There was the newspaper
lying on the walk leading to the front door.
Hadn’t he already picked that up before he had left the house? Hadn’t he?
Dread crept into him now as he looked slowly around the living
room. The TV was on. When had that happened? He specifically remembered turning it off
when he left. But it was on, with no
volume. On a channel he knew he would
never watch. What was going on? He crossed the living room to the hall way
that led to the back of the house.
“Becky?” He called out, but only silence, heavy and
dull, greeted him.
He entered the bedroom he shared with
his fiancé. The bed was made where he
had left it unmade only that morning.
The book on the nightstand was not the one that should have been
there. It was Becky’s nighttime read,
not his. He looked around the room.
“Becky?” He called again.
He turned and went out into the
hall. Why did he feel so scared? These were such small things. Surely Becky had returned to the house during
the day and made the bed. She had watched TV and just forgotten to turn it off
when she left. That explained everything
else, but what about the keys? He looked
down at the three sets of keys he held in his hand, but now there was only one
set.
He swallowed hard, looking down the
long hallway to the kitchen where the light shone out. He had to know, he had to look. He stepped through the kitchen door way,
looked at the table.
There in the center of the table lay
his keys. Beneath them was a clipping
from a newspaper. He stepped forward to
read the word, ‘Obituary’, followed by HIS name.
But my return was not to be as speedy as I had hoped. I was waylaid along my journey, met with
dangers and frustrations and now, I feared I might never return home. We had been at sea for some time when we came
upon the island of the Cyclops, it was a bountiful land, blessed by the gods
and its inhabitants lived in a state of ease with no need to till the land or
build ships to set out in trade.
Everything they needed was provided for them by the earth and wanting to
gather some of that bounty to replenish the stores in my fleet, I took a small
party and ventured in land to seek out the inhabitants there and partake in
their hospitality. We came upon a
hillside in which a series of caves opened like yawning mouths and soon
realized that the islands inhabitants made their homes inside the
mountain. Into one of these we ventured
to find that its inhabitant was out for the day. I decided to wait for our host and while we
waited we made merry over fresh cheese and milk from his stores. The day passed and as evening fell we heard
the approach of our host. First entered
into the cave a flock of wooly sheep and we stepped forward to present
ourselves to our host, but our words of greeting died before terror. The creature who entered was man in shape,
but monstrous in size with a single eye in the center of its forehead where it
should have had two. Overcome by a sense
of dread we shrank back into the shadows, hiding, and I realized I had made a
horrible mistake in coming there. We hid
back into the shadows, planning to slip out of the door when his back was
turned, but the moment the last of the sheep had entered he sealed up the
entrance to the cave with a giant boulder, so large that I knew we would not be
able to open it.
I did not know what to do; we were trapped with a monster
and had no choice but to hide. But our
hiding place was quickly discovered as the creature stirred up the flames of
his hearth and the cave was filled with golden light. We were discovered and the monster turned on
us with a roar. We froze and the monster
spoke, his voice a roar that made the cavern walls shake.
“Who are you and what brings you here? Are you pirates?”
My men cowered back in fear, while my own heart shook, but I
spoke though I was sure my voice trembled with my heart. “We are come from the
fields of Troy. We are but travelers
heading home and seek your hospitality as the gods see fit.”
He laughed at my words.
“I do not serve the gods that you serve; I will offer you no hospitality
but this!”
And as he spoke he lunged forward, grabbing two of my
companions and before any of us could try to stop him or defend them, he
smashed them to the ground, crushing them so that blood and brain spattered the
floor in a dreadful hot shower. We cried
out in anguish and rage, while he stuffed his mouth with the flesh of our
companions. He laughed while blood ran
down his chin, then left us to our fear and soon sat back in repose. My anger burned inside of me. I would have run him through, but I knew the
blade of my sword would be nothing but a pin prick to a monster of his
size. So through the long night we
waited, planned and plotted and by morning we still had no plan on what we
should do. As morning dawned the monster
wakened, and grabbing two more of my friends devoured them for breakfast. The cavern was filled with our cries and
grind and crunch of men’s bones. He left
us then, once he had eaten his fill of human flesh and sealing us up inside
left to take his flocks to field.
That whole long day we tried to move the boulder or find
another way out, but we were trapped and could do nothing more than wait for
the monster and what cruel fate lay in store.
Even came and with it the monster and his flock, I tried to plead with
him and then to bribe him with a succulent wine we carried to spare our
lives. But he drank our wine and still
killed more of my men. But the wine sent
him into a deep sleep and while he slept we devised a plan. Using a staff of wood we found, we crept
through the shadowy cavern to where the monster slept. Then, with the help of those who still
remained, I plunged the end of the staff into the monsters eye, gouging out the
orb, destroying the flesh while the monster howled in rage. It thrashed in torment, flinging us wide and
we scattered to hide while it lurched and stumbled around the cave, shouting
and screaming in pain. Blinded it could
not see us and so we spent the night unmolested and prepared for the next step
of my plan.
Morning at last came and with it our chance for escape. While the monster felt its way over to the
boulder that sealed the door, we quickly strapped ourselves to the underside of
the wooly sheep that milled about the cavern.
They were large and their wool thick, hiding us from him. Though he could not see, he positioned
himself before the cavern entrance and when the boulder was removed, he felt
along the back and sides of each sheep as it passed between his legs. But one by one we slipped out unseen, hidden
beneath the bellies of his sheep and we were freed into the fresh air of the
morning. I was the last to leave, I
waited until I knew my men were safe and only then did I crawl beneath the belly of his price ram, and clinging to the
dark wool, face pressed against it, I let it carry me outside, while above me
the Cyclops searched and cursed because he could not find us.
I mourned the loss of my men, but praised Zeus I had
escaped. Once we reached the fields in
which the sheep were want to graze we climbed out from beneath them and raced
back to our ship, praying to never see a Cyclops again.
By
firelight she danced, moving like the flames, hips undulating. Her hair unbound fell like a fire around
her. He could not look away from
her.
She
knew he watched, unaware of what he truly was, yet drawn to him because of his
power. She danced for him, only and made
him need her in spite of himself. Long
after the flames were spent he found her, came to her in darkness to take her. She was waiting for him.
“I
had hoped you would come.” It unnerved
him, there was nothing meek and mild about this priestess of Athena.
“You do not know what I am.”
No,
she did not know, but she knew he had power, knew she wanted to share
that. She knew to he had been alone for
years, not realizing it had been for centuries.
Fiona spoke to that loneliness to get what she desired.
“I
know you want me, but it is not just my body you desire.”
“What
do you know of that?”
“Let
me ease your solitude.”
He
took her, but did not ease his hunger with her blood. He shared her body and
came to love her. He did not admit why
he needed her so, unable to admit it was her resemblance to his long dead love,
Deirdre. A love he had killed with his
thirst. He loved her to right all he had
done wrong. That blinded him to the
coldness that lay behind her eyes. He
loved her to his undoing.
He
only came to her by moonlight, that was his curse, to never see her by day.
When he left her it was just before dawn and she followed him back to the
hidden place he slept by day. She
followed him, watched the slumber that stilled his breath, the coldness of
death creeping back into him. She
followed him when he left her, saw him feed, drinking human blood. And she knew
that where his power lay.
She
made him confess all he was by promising to love him and be with him forever.
Made him believe she loved him as much as he loved her.
She
seduced him, though she made him think he had seduced her. And in darkness one night he changed
her. It frightened her as he took her
blood, the pain, the viciousness. It
hurt as fang pierced flesh, as he drained her blood. It made her limp and helpless in his
arms. She was repulsed by the blood she
had to drink, his blood. But she wanted
his power and knew this was the only way.
He held her gently as she changed, brought her the first taste of human
flesh, the tender flesh of a child. She
found she craved the blood, found she enjoyed taking life. Enjoyed the fear she could invoke, the power
she now had over others. She was more
savage than he. Draca watched in horror
this monster he had created, who would betray him.
It came in the mail. It came with the bills and junk that came
every day. It didn’t stand out as
anything too unique, just a rumpled manila envelope with a funny bulge in one end. John grabbed it and everything else with it
out of the mail box, shoved it and everything else into the side pocket of his
laptop case and headed into the house, more concerned over the text message he
had just received then the mail crumbled into his bag. His current flavor was demanding more
intimacy and the one he was ready to go after was more interested in his friend
then him. So he tossed the mail onto the
kitchen counter by the sink and left it there.
And there it stayed a mangled mass of print ads and bills while he
cajoled the woman he wanted and broke up with the woman he no longer did. For three days it sat there in an ever
growing pile of mail, forgotten. Only
boredom and a spilled beer saved it from being ignored for too long. His elbow caught the bottle and it toppled
over sending a stream of liquid into the nest of forgotten mail. Panic flooded him as was natural and cursing
he scooped the beer and much of the liquid into the sink, then began picking
his way through the sodden mass. The
junk mail he discarded, the bills he frowned at and set aside to dry and the
package, dirty, manila and now wet with beer stared at him. His name and address had been scrawled across
it with a black marker, but there was no return address and the handwriting he
did not recognize. Curiosity had him picking
up the package and feeling it with his fingers.
It was thin, with a soft bulge at the end. He slipped a finger beneath the flap and
ripped it open. He pulled out the single
sheet of paper then, turned the envelope over to dump the rest of the contents
into this hand. For a moment he just
stared blankly at the eye patch, a leather eye patch that any pirate could be
seen wearing in any movie. He turned it
over, saw initials stitched into it, his initials. Still confused he looked down at the note and
read it.
John,
You won’t understand, you won’t believe,
but you must. I’ve been looking for you
for a long time. This was once
yours. Put it on and try to remember me.
Victoria
He
turned the note over, but that was it, there was nothing else written on
it. Ordinarily he might have just thrown
the whole thing away. But there was
something vaguely familiar about that patch.
He hesitated for a moment, then put the patch over his left eye. Nothing happened and he stood there, feeling
the fool. What did he expect?
John.
He turned, heart suddenly in his throat
and there she stood, her face pale, transparent.
I’ve
waited for you.
He ripped the eye patch away, but she
was still there, wavering like a mist just out of reach. “Who..?”
Remember
me, John. She reached out and her
hands seemed to pass right through him, right into him and it was a cold, very
cold. Remember me.
He
felt the rise and fall of a deck beneath his feet, felt the wind harsh against
his face and smelled the salt brine that was tossed high with the spray.
Remember
me.
He
remembered this; somehow he remembered this in the depths of his soul. But he did not remember her. She came closer and he saw tears, spectral
tears in see through eyes.
Remember
me.
Again
the surge of deck, the creak of rope and rigging and then into his vision it
all came, the memories of the life that had once been his and the woman he had
once loved. She stood before him,
wavering like the memory, but more tangible.
She lifted her face to his, lifted hands to cup his cheeks and though
they were cold, her lips were warm when she kissed him.
Sparta
still rests upon our threshold, holding us prisoner here in our beautiful
city. The people turn to Athene, asking
her wisdom now that the great Pericles has perished. The citizens of Athens tremble as another
season of war comes upon us. We turn now
to wise Cleon to lead us against Sparta and to victory. The death of Pericles lingers with us, the
loss of him and his sons are a great loss to the people of Athens. The plague still lingers within the walls of
Athens and many sacrifice daily to the wise Goddess Athene and to Zeus to grant
us deliverance and victory. The only
relief we have received is that Sparta is so terrified of the sickness within
these walls it has retreated from Attica.
It
has been two years since Sparta rose against us, since they invaded Attica and
Pericles sent our fleet of proud triremes along their coast to suppress the unrest growing in the
Peloponnese. The audacity of that
nation, to have announced their goal was to rid Greece of Athenian
oppression. Athenian oppression indeed,
are we not the height of Hellas? Are we
not the dream to which all aspire? Our
achievements have earned enmity from those without, the Spartans are jealous of
the heights to which our people have risen.
They attack us and force the peoples of Attica to make the long walls
between Athens and Piraeus their home, while Sparta, with its thousands of
hoplites have taken up the long fields around our city. Our citizens, our soldiers wait on good Cleon
to tell us what to do. Fear is a strong
current among the people of Athens, and only the gods know what we face in the
months to come. Summer approaches and
the mass of Sparta’s army swells beyond our walls. Inside the pyres burn as offerings are made to
the gods and we wait, always wait for them to answer.
We can still draw hope from the words of Pericles
as he addressed our citizens as he spoke the Funeral Oration last year. “We
are still willing to encounter danger; we have the double advantage of escaping
the experience of hardships in anticipation and of facing them in the hour of
need as fearlessly as those who are never free from them.” Pericles knew the greatness of Athens and of
its people. We will rise and fight, we
are strong in our resolve and we have the might of the great Athene to guide
us.
I
have been told by my sources in the Council that clever Demosthenes, our new
general has plans to lead an attack upon the Spartans, forcing their
defeat. Our navy still attacks and
defends us; we are not without defense as our military stays strong, even in
the face of the death toll the plague has caused. We will strike back even as they plan to
attack us once more as the year warms.
But
still, our faith in the gods and in our leaders notwithstanding, there is much
fear as rumors of the Spartans attacking Plataea spread throughout the
city. It is said the King of Sparta
Archidamus II will lead the siege against Plataea this year. Plataea it has been said is strategically
beneficial to the Spartans as it will enable them to support their allies in
Thebes. At this time, these rumors have
not been confirmed and we await the answers. War draws nigh and Athens will
heed the call, we will be triumphant.
Mighty Athene grant Cleon and Demosthenes her wisdom in the battle yet
to come.
Category: Fiction, History |
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Janet ran down the long hills of heather. Heather
purple like the closed eyes of Heaven. Heaven blue above shone down on the
hills. Hills long and green, rolling down to Tamlin. Tamlin, tall and strong,
knight of the fairy Queen. Queen Titania’s favorite knight, loved by her, but
loving Janet. Janet of the village, beautiful and fair met Tamlin in the Vale.
Vale below the glooming walls of Cauterhaugh. Cauterhaugh, stern and scowling
looked down upon the lovers as they embraced. Embraced in the passion of love,
secret lovers. Lovers for more then a year since the day they had met in the
world of Cauterhaugh’s courtyard. Courtyard long abandoned in which she had met
him was now their secret roost in which they hid. Hid from prying eyes of man
and elf, sharing their love. Love bound them and placed a child in Janet. Janet
came to Tamlin again on a day in the fall. Fall, the death of summer’s life and
the time of the fairies ride, Ride in the dark of night to the Crossing on All
Hallows Eve. Eve of a holy day was when they gave their tithe to Hell. Hell
required fresh lives and blood every seven years. Years counting Seven had
Tamlin been in the service of the Queen. Queen Titania had ordered Tamlin to be
the sacrifice. Sacrifice to Dark Gods that night, at the Crossing. Crossing of
the roads was where Janet was to be hidden. Hidden at the crossing she waited
in the dark of night. Night so cold and dark. Dark as death, the night around
her came. Came like cold fingers to steal the life from Tamlin. Tamlin rode
behind the Queen on a white steed. Steed of snowy white carried Tamlin to his
death. Death which Janet planned to prevent. Prevent it she would and save the
father of her child. Child of elfin blood he was, half immortal, half man. Man
of elfin queen, he rode calmly past Janet. Janet knew what she had to do. Do it
she did, springing up from her hiding place. Place of shelter hidden from the
riders. Riders passed as she grabbed Tamlin and pulled him from his horse. Horse
reared and shied away as she wrapped him in her arms. Arms that burned as
Titania transformed Tamlin into a burning brand of Iron. Iron so hot it
scorched her flesh. Flesh burning she held on still. Still clinging to her love
as he was changed again into a writhing snake. Snake of many coils, with red
eyes hissing at her. Her heart trembled yet she still held on. On and on the
torment went until at last the hour passed into the next. Next day it was, All
Hallows Day. Day of saints and light and Janet had won. Won her lover Tamlin
from the clutch of the Queen. Queen Titania released her spell and Tamlin was
returned to his natural form. Form of man once more he lay in Janet’s arms.
Arms that clutched him close as she looked up into the Queen’s spiteful eyes.
Eyes that burned with hate as she spoke. Spoke words that would for ever haunt
Janet. “Janet, you have won this round but it is not finished. Finished it will
be when I have your child. Child of thine and Tamlin’s will be mine.” Mine.
Mine, such a word to bring so much fear. Fear forever in this curse. Curse to
end in a long future date. Date yet unknown. Unknown and yet unwritten.
Unwritten is the end.
End
Category: Fiction |
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