Ghosts of the past

Brian lived in a one bedroom flat. He had a cat named Archimedes. But Brian usually just called his cat “Meow face”. Brian sat back in his armchair and watched television. His apartment was almost devoid of furniture, all except the TV, armchair, fridge and a mattress on the floor that he used as a bed. “Come here meow face” Brian said as he patted his lap. Archimedes purred and trotted over. The cat jumped up into Brian’s lap and instantly fell asleep. “Good meow face” He said softly as he patted his cat on the head.

Brian felt so relaxed that he began to drift off to sleep. His breathing slowed and he closed his eyes. He was so comfortable and Archimedes purring was very soothing. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep he heard loud banging noise come from his closet. Brian jumped and so did Archimedes. The two walked carefully toward the closet. No further sounds were heard. Brian leaned in and slowly opened his closet. His pulse raced as the door slowly opened. He looked inside and didn’t see anything unusual. Just his coats and a bowling ball he had been meaning to use one day. Then another loud bang was heard from the closet door. Brian jumped and then looked at the door itself. The closet was open, but something was banging on the door. “Whose there?” Brian asked. Archimedes looked up at Brian. Maybe to say “Are you talking to a door?” or maybe the cat was simply a cat and looked up because he heard his master speak.

Brian could hear whispers coming from inside the door, or rather on the other side of the door. As if the closet door was still closed. Which it wasn’t. Brian closed the door and now stared in amazement and shock an opened glowing door. The closet door could open a closet or it could open a floating door into another world. Brian put his hand through the new opened door. When he pulled his hand out a light flashed and transparent people began walking into Brian’s apartment. From the corner of his eye he could almost recognize their faces. They all looked like people he knew. Brian’s peripheral vision picked up all sorts of details on these transparent figures. Clothes, faces, hair color, skin color, it was all slightly transparent but still very vivid, but every time he looked right at them they would lack any features at all.

“Who are you?” Brian asked. A few of the figures tried to answer but they spoke only in whispers. “who are you?” Brian asked again. One the figures walked over and touched Brian’s head. Brian had a sudden flashback to playing softball as a kid. His team lost and on top of that he hurt his leg. His coach came up and comforted Brian. The mild injury and lost game didn’t seem so important because of how supportive the coach was and eventually seeing how supportive his parents were.

Brian snapped out of it but now suddenly saw that one of the figures was his coach. When looked at head on, the coach figure didn’t loose his features. “Are you all ghosts? I thought you were still alive, Coach!” Brian said. The coach smiled “We are memories, ghosts of your past. You have to sort your memories out kid, you bottle too much up,” Said the kindly coach.

Brian nodded. It was true, he bottled up a lot of his emotions and even tried to bury his most unpleasant memories. But he wondered if he was having some kind of mental break down. His memories glided around the room. Some of them seemed to be commenting on his lack of furniture. Brian knew that it was probably one of his old girlfriends. Then he got a flashback from thinking about the girl. “Your not going to buy THAT are you?” Asked Susie. The flashback ended abruptly. Brian looked annoyed now. “There is a reason I was trying to forget most of you!” He shouted. “Except you coach, not sure why I forgot about that one time you helped me” Brian quickly added, as if the coach was a real person with real feelings. “Everyone out!” He shouted. The figures swirled up in the air and Brian began having flashbacks one after another. His memories were becoming unorganized. Old Jobs, past relationships, dead pets and dead relatives, all of these memories came swirling back.

Brian’s head spun and he fell to the floor. His life had been a long path of twists and turns, some good and some bad, but when he tried to stuff the bad away and try not to think the bad memories it eventually built up. “So what if my ex-girlfriend was a bitch. That was her personality. I don’t need to beat myself up over the break up.” Brian muttered to himself as his memories flashed before his eyes. “I didn’t know unscrewing pieces of grandma’s wheel chair would be dangerous. I was five! I was FIVE!!!” Brian shouted, as guilt tried to grip at his every memory. “That’s enough!” He finally shouted and then stood up. He was ready to yell and scream at those annoying transparent figures, but they had all disappeared. Brian looked over and noticed the door was gone too. Then he looked down and noticed he was still in his chair. He assumed it was a dream and he had just woken up abruptly “What a crazy dream” Brian told Archimedes, who responded with a long yawn.

Though it was a brief event, it affected Brian. He remembered so much of his past, both good and bad. The good memories made him feel a little happier and his mistakes made him a little wiser. He started to try and learn from his mistakes instead of tormenting himself with guilt and obsessing over what could have been different. Though Brian dismissed the event as a dream, it still stuck with him. the rest of his life was a little better because of the lesson he learned. Meanwhile, Archimedes didn’t learn any lessons, but instead was just always content and was happy for the rest of his life, because he was a cat.

Malak and the Dreadmist

         Malak Wrathborn sat in a sleepy little tavern, the only sound was the crackling of the fireplace and the quiet murmurs of the people sitting at the next table. Malak was covered in a tan cloak with the hood up. He kept his head down and sipped on a large glass of beer. He had medium length white hair that he kept back in a messy ponytail. He wore light armor, a mix of plate and chain mail. This was for defense and mobility. Over his armor he wore a tan and red shirt. The shirt had a ripped spot on the arm where a symbol or crest used to be.

            Malak was in the Dreadmist lands, a land that was equal parts swamp and forest and the land looked as gloomy as someone would expect from a place called Dreadmist. Luckily Malak was just passing through Dreadmist, so he wouldn't have to deal with the landscape for very long. The warmth of the bar was a nice comfort against the cold winter winds that waited just outside. Malak was enjoying the comfort of the tavern, but knew he couldn't stay. to keep from lingering any longer, he quickly paid his tab, bundled up and walked for the door. Just as he reached for the handle, the door swung open. A cold winter wind blew into the tavern and everyone shivered. The wind hit Malak and his cloak became unbundled. It now hung loosely over his shoulders. Soldiers from the Dreadmist ‘empire’ were going into the tavern to warm up, but instead of warm beverages they found Malak standing in front of them wearing an old imperial soldier uniform. “Imperials” One of the soldiers said in a low growl. Malak knew this would be trouble unless he could sort it out.

            “Be calm, Its an old uniform. I am not a soldier” Malak said calmly, then showed his arm. The royal crest of the imperial army was torn from the shirt. The three Dreadmist soldiers grabbed Malak and threw him outside. They went outside and began moving in close. “Imperials aren’t welcome in the Dreadmist Empire. We don’t want their trash either” Said the first soldier. Malak looked at the three soldiers. They were dressed in all black leather armor, with plate armor hidden under the leather chest piece, both the front and back. The soldiers had dark purple hoods and black face maskes that came up over their mouths. This made them look more threatening and also helped against wind and cold.

            Malak used to be part of the Imperial army, an army that protected the largest kingdom in the land, but he was thrown out for being too violent. Since that day he traveled the land and worked as a mercenary. Everyone outside of the Imperial Kingdom had a problem with it and its soldiers. Most of the time Malak could avoid trouble because he removed his seal and kept a cloak on, but the Dreadmist ‘empire’ had an inferiority complex. They were the smallest kingdom and still called themselves an empire. To the rest of the world the Dreadmist land was a land of thugs, not soldiers and kings.

            The soldiers didn’t even take out their weapons, which is fortunate because Malak dropped his when he was thrown. A finely crafted spear with gold trim lay just behind the Dreadmist soldiers, it was also fortunate they didn’t notice. Malak stood up and put his leather glove clad fist into the palm of his hand and cracked his knuckles then did a little bit of stretching. The Soldiers laughed, but if they were smart they would have attacked already.

            “Alright boys lets-“ Said the first soldier, then his sentence was cut short when a leather glove clad fist collided with his face. Malak was four feet away and moved in quick. The Soldiers were so full of themselves and untrained that Malak was able to close in and land the first hit. The first soldier dropped to the ground in one punch.

 The two remaining soldiers pulled their swords from their belts and attacked. Two blades came down at Malak, but he quickly moved out of the way. He punched the other soldier but couldn’t put his full force into the swing. The first soldier stumbled backward and the second lunged forward with his sword. Malak turned and tried to dodge. He barely escaped the attack as the blade sliced his side.

            Malak growled. the two soldiers had regained their balance and were ready to fight, the initial soldier in group was still sprawled out in the snow unconscious from the sucker punch. Malak charged forward and then jumped into the air right before he was within the reach of the soliders. he had leapt into the air with cat-like agility and came rushing down again. Before the soldiers could react Malak landed with both of his boots slamming down onto the shoulders of the first soldier. The man collapsed and Malak jumped off and landed on the snowy ground with ease. He purposely landed closer to the tavern so he could retrieve his spear. He picked up his spear and then looked up at the two soldiers. Malak had an evil smile on his face that would make the devil nervous. The soldiers collected their wits and tried to attack again.

            Malak moved into his spear man stance and before the soldiers could get within swords reach, Malak slashed upward with his bladed spearhead. each of the Soldiers had their sword hand sliced off with one stroke of this deadly, finely crafted spear. Malak had won, there was no way the Soldiers had enough motivation and resolve to find their swords and keep fighting.

            “The imperial’s trash? I was thrown away by the imperial army, was I? Is the mighty DREADMIST Empire too good to have me in their borders? The unsettled land of Dreadmist is as much an empire as this tavern is a golden palace” Malak said to the two severely wounded soldiers. “you all hate the Imperial army so much, yet if you were fighting an Imperial soldier, they would show you mercy. They might even treat your wounds so you don’t die. But I am not an Imperial soldier” Malak said then swung his spear through the air at a rapid pace. His spear whirled around through the air and sliced through the soldiers as if they were made of paper. A quick shriek was heard then silence. Blood covered the snowy ground outside of the tavern. Malek walked off with his spear over his shoulder leaving the  mutilated corpses of three Dreadmist soldiers of the Dreadmist Empire behind him