Hero's choice

            The final blow was delivered. The beast, large and terrifying, roared in pain as he fell backward.  This large monster shook the ground as he fell then let out one last breath before dying. The tremors caused by the beast were felt across the land and instead of being afraid, the people rejoiced. They knew that after years of hardship and fear, they could now live in peace.

            A boy around sixteen stood over the body of the beast, sword in hand and gasping for breath. He was burnt, bleeding and covered in dirt, but he was alive. The boy dropped his sword, it fell forward and stuck into the ground, making the location of the final battle. The boy shook as he walked, the day was saved, he completed his training, found the magic sword, traveled the land, all for this one moment. He was relieved and happy it was over, but in a way a little sad too. As he walked toward the town he wondered what he was supposed to do next. His family had been avenged and the land was saved. Did he keep on fighting? Spending the rest of his life returning to this moment. Or was he supposed to settle down, start a family and say goodbye to the glory and praise that came with saving the world.

            When a young boy sets out on a journey with an adventurous spirit and a map, with the sole purpose of defeating a great evil, he doesn’t need to think about choices. But now its over and he has all the choices in the world. He was a boy who grew up too fast and thrust into battle. He was still a kid, but acted like an adult. If he went back to being a normal, goofy sixteen year old would people be shocked that the savoir of the world is acting like a kid? Or if he started a life and a family would it be strange for a kid to have his own house and kids of his own? The boy was the only one destined to wield the magic blade and slay the beast, but what about the rest of his destiny? Are heroes even supposed to live past their desired purpose?

            The Boy was very troubled as he walked into town. These questions haunted him and his head swirled. Fighting a monster was easy compared to making tough life decisions. He snapped out of his deep thoughts as the crowd cheered on his arrival.

“The hero has returned! He saved us all!” people in the village shouted.

            That night, there was a party in his honor. The boy drank wine with the adults, he danced with the children and ate with the village elder. He was trapped between worlds, but enjoyed each one in its own way.  During the party The Boy saw a girl about his age. He smiled at her and she blushed. Being a hero had its benefits.

            The night slowly ended and morning stretched over the land. The Boy woke up, he was in rough shape from all the fighting and then he drank too much wine at the party. He wished he could sleep for days. He got up out of bed and left the inn he slept at. It was still early and The Boy wanted to make a decision before anyone had a chance to talk to him. He wanted the decision to be his and not influenced by the first person he met in the morning. He stood at the gate to town, ahead of him was the unknown, a life of traveling and fighting for the good of the land, behind him the town and a life of being praised as a hero as he lived his life and settled down.  If he traveled, he would have the adventure he wanted, but he would be alone and always in battle. If he stayed, he would be celebrated for past glories as he raised his family and worked like a normal villager. The third option would be settle down on his own. His life would be quiet, no fanfare and he could do what he wanted without expectation. He thought very seriously about either becoming a traveler, a hermit or a town hero.

            Then the town elder walked up behind the Boy and put a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever you choose will, you have my support. So what will you do now?” The elder asked.

The Boy didn’t answer, he just stood staring out at future.

The Old Stone Tower

            Merek wrote feverishly, trying to scribble down every word onto his piece of parchment. He sat in an old wooden chair at a wooden desk, in a stone tower built on the side of a hill. The whole tower was dark except for the room at the very top. Merek’s study was lit with torches, creating plenty of light for reading and writing. The abundance of light also kept the night at bay.

            Over the years Merek had seen something moving and shifting out in the darkness. In the black of night, something would emerge from the forest and creep up the hill. The writhing darkness would surround the tower and Merek would light his torches and keep them lit till morning when it was safe again. This didn’t happen very often and when it did, it could be managed by keeping torches lit. But tonight, a night with no moon, the strange moving darkness emerged from the forest, larger and faster than before. Merek wasn’t sure if he was going mad or there really was something out there.

            Merek wrote what down everything he heard and saw, he wrote his thoughts and his last words, just in case. Merek kept seeing movement in the corner of his eye, always by the window. Almost as if something was trying to get in, but couldn’t. He heard the sound of his stone tower creaking as if a large snake were coiling around it. Merek tried to concentrate on his writing. He needed to write his last words to anyone who found this, he needed to document what was happening, but most of all he needed to write to stay sane. He couldn’t allow himself to focus solely on the slithering darkness or the creaking noises. Every time he looked out the window, he saw nothing, but whenever he passed the window he felt something watching him.

            If he looked down toward the forest he would see a squirming motion, if he looked out toward the sea he could catch a glimpse of something moving past his window. None of it made sense, but every sense he had told him to stay indoors and stay in the light. The logical part of his brain kept trying to tell him it was all superstition and nonsense, but fear sure has a way of making every horrible thing seem real.

            Merek paced through his room, muttered to himself. Trying to think calming thoughts and speaking reassurances. Then the torchlight dimmed and he looked out the window one final time. He saw a face staring in from the darkness. It was a face from his nightmares, smiling in at him. Merek screamed and the windows burst open, a chill wind blew out the torches. All went dark and quiet.

            Days later a deliveryman from the town rode up to the tower with supplies. Old Merek was always busy working up in his tower, Writing or trying to invent new things. So deliveries were made to his home. The Man knocked on the large door to the tower and waited. He looked around and gasped at what he saw, Merek, dead at the base of the tower. At the top of the tower a window was open and it looked like he jumped.

            The deliveryman went back to town and told the mayor. The mayor send town guards to investigate. The guards found pages and pages of ramblings. Insane rants about shadows and demons. Merek could have been crazy, no one really knew him, so every just assumed he was crazy. A crazy old solitary man, scared so badly by his own imagination that he jumped from his own tower. That was the official story anyway. What really happened was a mystery. No one ever saw the moving darkness, or at least if they did, they didn’t live long enough to talk about it.