Joseph Stephens and the lonely road

It was dusk, light was quickly escaping from the sky. Joseph trudged through the mire as he watched the sun slowly setting beyond the horizon. His sword hung loosely from his hand, his clothes were covered in mud, his face was covered in sweat and his sword was covered in blood. "Its been a long day without you, my friend" Joseph said out loud with a sigh. This world was hard and unforgiving but it didn't always seem that way. Joseph thought about the days when the road was less hard and journey was filled with laughter. That was before Joseph lost his way and had to travel alone.

Joseph wanted to go to sleep but there wasn't any dry land to sleep on for miles, so on he walked. it was one of those days that he wished would just end, but seemed to drag on without thought or consideration of Joseph's feelings. The water in the mire began to ripple all around Joseph. the tall grass shook and the earth rumbled. a giant human shaped creature emerged from the swamp waters. It was over eight feet tall and easily five hundred pounds, it was so large that it must have been sleeping in the mud under the water. the water from the mire wasn't over a foot high.

Joseph let out a hard and tired sigh and drew his blade, bringing it up in front of him. He assumed his battle stance in front of the swamp giant. Its skin was muddy, yellow brown and looked hard as stone, its hair looked like it was made of swamp plants and covered most of its face and head. Bright red eyes shone out from under the tangle mess of plant hair on the creatures head. the beast roared and lifted its over sized hands, clenching them into fists.

Joseph brought his sword down low and charged forward, in the corner of his eye he could almost see his friend the wizard floating over the muck and mire, grinning at his dirt covered friend. Joseph sloshed through the mud and sliced the giant's leg as he ran passed the creature. The swamp giant slammed his fists down, splashing dirty water everywhere and missing Joseph completely. Jaye the wizard would have been blasting this create with every lighting spell he knew if he were actually here fighting. Joseph smiled at his friends overzealous nature and continued to move quickly through the murky water, slashing the swamp giant across the legs and arms and dodging the beasts giant fists as they slammed down around Joseph. if the swamp giant landed even one hit, the strike would be so strong that it would shatter bones. Joseph had to keep moving, despite the muddy water being hard to run through and the fact that the swamp giant's skin was almost as hard as stone.

After every time Joseph slashed the giant, he would have to immediately have to dodge the next on coming attack. Each time the swamp giant swung his fist it grew closer and closer to actually hitting Joseph. "I can't do this alone" Joseph muttered. He imagined his friend fighting there with him. the giant's fists never found their mark because two quick moving humans were too hard to hit. Jaye would send out blinding light and burn the beast with fire and electricity. the battle would be won and it would be added to the vault of memories that they both shared, but Jaye wasn't there and Joseph had to survive long enough so that he could see his friend again some day.

the swamp giant's fist struck right next to Joseph and the force sent him flying. Joseph always imagined his death would be a last stand against an overwhelming army or at least dying in a blaze of glory while possibly also being on fire, but dying to a swamp giant ranked pretty low on ways to leave the world. "What are you some kind of chump? Gonna die to a big dumb giant like a big sad baby?" echoed Jaye's voice. Joseph almost laughed out loud when he heard these words. Jaye hadn't shown up to save the day, but his memory did. "Lets waste this fool" Joseph said with a smile. "you're dumb" Jaye replied also smiling.
Joseph charged up all of his energy into one strike. His body began to glow and his sword's blade bursts into flames. . "X Strike!" Joseph shouted as he ran forward, the heat of each step sizzled the surrounding water. Joseph ran so fast that flaming sword sliced through the air and his feet parted the water. The memory Jaye the wizard charged with electricity and charged forward with equal speed and force, both friends charged through the swamp giant with the force of a tornado or an earthquake. the attack pattern looked like the letter X with the swamp giant in the middle. Jaye flew through the Giant  releasing huge amounts of electricity into the creature. At that exact moment Joseph was slashing his fire sword through the beasts chest. they both ended with their backs to the monster. The swamp giant let out one last roar before collapsing back into the mud. Joseph coughed and felt woozy from exhaustion but kept the smile on his face. Jaye's memory smiled back at Joseph.

Joseph was able to defeat the swamp giant on his own, but it took the memory of his friend to encourage him and bring out his inner strength. Sometimes the road gets hard and sometimes it gets lonely, but if you can find a friend you can enjoy the time together and look forward to that time when you are apart. When you find a real friend they never leave you and no matter what has happened they always will have your back.

Nostalgia is the sweetest drug

The moment struck me like a sword through the chest. The moment when I realized that the past was gone and no amount of effort would bring it back. Nostalgia was like opium, It takes your mind away from your troubles and sends you back to a simple and happy time. People get addicted to it and even rely on it for their source of happiness. The glorious day that Joe scored the winning touch down will always be a fond memory for him, but he also relied on it for validation and comfort. Even when he didn't realize he was doing it. He sucked the life out of his memory like a vampire drains its victims of blood. He played football on the weekend to relieve old glory and told himself it was just for fun.
I never played football but I have my own memories, memories that glow and sparkle in an otherwise dark life of pain and isolation. I try to relieve my old days, I try to set up time with friends and hope that it will feel as good as it used to, but it never does. Memories have their use and Nostalgia can be used in moderation, like alcohol. I use my nostalgia to get a little drunk off the past happiness and it keeps me going through the bad times. I try not to dwell on the past so much that it effects the future. Every day is a new chance to make those good memories. Every day is a rich source of potential nostalgia. Joe won't ever score the winning touch down again, because he is a banker not a pro-football player, but he can teach his son how to throw a ball and that memory will be just as fine. That will be a memory he can add to his "feel good" vault of memories that we call nostalgia. Not only will he have that happy memory, but his son will also. The best happy memories are the ones you share with others, the ones that you can reminisce about when times are tough or someone needs encouragement.

Memory is a tricky thing and often the past seems better than it truly was. Joe might want to relieve his glory days  on his high school football game, but he wouldn't want to relieve that morning when his parents had a huge fight or the day before when he was stuck in math class and couldn't stay awake. You remove the bones, fillet the meat and only consume the sweetest parts of the memory.
Objects have as much power as people assign to them. If your grandfather fought in a war and gave you his prized knife that he took into battle, then you should be honored. You were given a gift of history as well as personal memory. Your grandfather remembers the war and it changed who we was as a person, that knife was proof of his deeds and the events that happened. Now you hold that knife. The knife has more stories behind it than you might have of your own. Having a physicial representation of your memory makes that memory stronger. If Joe got to keep his foot ball from the winning touch down, then he might have it on his shelf, maybe even make a display for it, depending on how shameless he wishes to be with his love for that memory. I find it hard to throw anything away, I keep anything that was given to me by a loved one, even if it was just a scrap of paper that said "Jerkface" on it. Someone that I loved thought of me and wanted to make me laugh by humorously insulting me. Someone thought of me. People don't realize always realize what their actions mean, for better or worse. a silly note might be someone's prized possession, all because of the power we assign to the object.

So when an object holds your fondest memories, when it has experienced some of your best times and knows your best stories, when an object breaks, it is only then that you realize how much power you place in your things, your trophies from the past and how much you rely on nostalgia to get by in life. Old memories can seem like phantoms in your mind, you wonder if they really did happen how you remember them. Did Joe truly score the winning touch down? It was so long ago and ever since he moved he lost touch with anyone who might have also remembered that day. but he has the football, the football is real so the memory must also be real.
When the object that held your stories is destroyed, what happens to your stories? They still exsist inside you, but you do lose a piece of the story, a small piece that makes it just a little harder to remember. On the one hand you don't want to have a room full of trophies from the past, missing out on the present because you are too obessesed with the past. On the other hand your stories make you who you are and remembering good times can keep you going when you feel like giving up. The trick is balance. Balance in all things. I try not to hold objects in higher regards than people, but when a person breaks an object with so many stories a little piece of you breaks with it.

The winds of Zephyr

It was a cool and breezy evening in a little port town. Fishermen were bringing in their haul for the day and taverns were stoking fires and preparing food and drink for a night of regular customers and travelers looking to rest. It was the perfect night to sit outside with a cup of coffee or mug of ale and watch the ocean.

            A little boy named Henry was out on the docks waiting for his father to come home when he spotted a strange ship in the horizon. The ship was as large as a navy battleship but instead of the kingdom seal, the flag was black with a bloody skull image. The dark ship marked the peaceful landscape as it sailed closer to shore. A dark storm was growing and following in the trail of the dreaded black flag ship. Henry knew the men on the ship were pirates and not the fun kind that go on adventures. Henry ran into the house to tell his father and word spread quickly of the approaching pirate ship.

            The pirate ship sailed so quickly toward the town that it looked as if Zephyr, the god of the winds was carrying them to shore. The town prepared what weapons they had and tried to fortify the docks. The town had been at peace for so long that they were not ready for a pirate invasion. The harder the townspeople worked the more they realized how unprepared they truly were. Within an hour the pirates were almost upon them and the dark storm was already overhead. Thunder boomed and the lighting crashed around. Visible bolts struck the water around the pirate ship as it approached. The townspeople were so overwhelmed by the attack and it hadn’t even happened yet. Surly the pirates were closer to demons than they were mortal men. The town would be reduced to ash and no one in the town would ever be heard from again, nor their bodies ever found.

            The dread ship was so close that the pirates could be seen from shore. The pirates weren’t cheering for blood with swords ready, they were fleeing the storm. Terror could be seen in the faces and eyes of all above deck, the storm was chasing them and refused to let up. a bolt of lighting shot down from the sky and struck the ship. A loud crack and bang were heard, sounding like an explosion. The sound of wood being bent and broken followed up next, then the screams of pirates as they fled into the water. Electricity poured from the clouds and crashed into the ship. The townspeople looked on in horror as they saw what they thought was the wrath of god. The electricity spread out along the breaking and splintering wood and resembled a giant hand.

            After ten minutes of lighting pounding the pirate ship and unrelenting strikes on the water, the storm began to calm and the skies cleared up. The storm vanished from the sky and that remained were dead pirates and broken ship pieces. The boy Henry spotted a man washed up on the shore and he was breathing. While the pirates wore black and red and were covered in weapons and tattoos, this man looked more like a sailor or a person that might live in that very town. He was pale and had black hair that came down to his eyes, he had a long navy blue coat that looked weather resistant, sturdy black boots and black workers gloves. The townspeople helped him onto dry land and he was take to the local tavern. It was agreed that he was most likely a prisoner of the pirates and that he could be trusted, but should still be watched.

            The man had twenty feet of chain stashed inside of his long coat, a large sharp hook, two stone jars engraved with mystical runes, various tiny bottles of herbs and exotic ingredients, a flintlock pistol, a pouch of gold coins and a small sailor’s knife.

The townspeople were a little startled by all of the strange items in the man’s coat, but they insisted on making him comfortable while he recovered from his injuries. They had many questions for him and figured that he would be less likely to answer them if he woke up in the local jailhouse.

            The man started to wake up, he found himself in a warm bed, near a crackling fire. The injured man has sparkling blue eyes like the sea after a storm. He tried to stand but felt too weak. The mayor of the village came into the house to greet the injured man. The mayor had a handlebar mustache, brown eyes and gray hair. “Hello, son. Can you speak? My name is mayor Gustav. Who are you?” Asked the Mayor. “My name is Isaac” Said the injured man before passing out.

            The mysterious Isaac survived being held by pirates and lived through a overwhelming storm that killed all the pirates aboard. The townspeople had so many questions and hoped that he had the answers.