Forest Island first night

In the Boundless ocean, among the inlands that are connected by the Pentacle Sea, rests the forest Island. The Forest Island is ruled by the three Forest Kings, the Bear lord, Nathaniel, The Dog Lord Stefan and the Elk Lord Gregory. The three kings worked together in harmony to ensure the peace and prosperity of every humanoid citizen and animal on the island. As the name implies the Forest Island is an island almost completely covered in dense forest. Living on an island covered in dense forest ensures a high level of safety from other possible invading forces. Unfortunately it also means that everyone on the island is forced to rely on each other for survival and would not be able to count on outside help if danger arose.

            Nathaniel the Bear lord was traveling the eastern side of the island on his trusty bear Pubbles when a villager wearing a faded maroon tunic ran up to Nathaniel. “Ma’lord! Thank heavens you are here! I was gonna hafta run all the way to the castle otherwise” Said the peasant sounding out of breath. The Bear lord wore a fancy pointed brown leather hat, with a green feather in it, a brown leather armored tunic and a bright yellow undershirt. His pants were black and his boots were brown. Pubbles the bear had a matching hat to Nathaniel but it was smaller. Pubbles had brown fur and emerald green eyes.

            “What is the trouble kindly sir?” asked Nathaniel as he pet Pubbles on the head. “Trolls, Sir! Small shadowy trolls have been attacking the eastern most villages” said the villager. “Small and shadowy? That doesn’t sound like trolls. I will investigate anyway. Please continue down this trail to my camp and inform my men that I am heading to Cliff Peak village to investigate and they should meet me there” Nathaniel instructed, then made his way up the trail, riding on the back of his bear friend.

            The eastern most village was known as Cliff Peak village because it was positioned a half mile from the peak of a cliff that lead to a sharp drop. The peak of the cliff was also the highest point on the island and the sharp drop would send you out of the forest and plummeting to the beach shore below. Cliff Peak village was one of the safest villages on the island because there was only one path to the village on one side and an unscaleable cliff wall on the other side. Nathaniel was concerned because anyone attacking Cliff Peak village would have to pass through the lower altitude hamlets on their way and those locations had not been attacked.

            Nathaniel traveled through two small hamlets on his way to Cliff Peak, along the way he asked if anyone had seen small shadowy trolls or any unusual sightings. No one had seen shadowy creatures or been attacked, which was good news but even more confusing to Nathaniel.

            The trail to Cliff Peak continued up higher and higher up the large hill. Nathaniel’s guards from the Bear Lords camp had caught up to Nathaniel on their way to meet him at Cliff Peak. While the Bear Lord rode a fierce bear who could help in a fight, the guards all rode horses and could travel faster across the island than Nathaniel could.

            The Bear Lord and his men finally reached the village of Cliff Peak and were shocked to see that it had been ransacked. The huts, houses and storage buildings were empty with broken doors, windows and locks spread across the ground. A woman with a blue dress and bonnet came out of her empty house and ran toward the Bear lord and his men.

            “Sire! It was awful! Please help!” She shouted frantically. “Calm down” what happened?” asked Nathaniel. “Shadowy imps keep attacking the village. At first the men repelled them, but every night they came back in larger numbers. We attacked with swords and axes but any creatures we didn’t kill would steal the weapons right from our hands!” She exclaimed.

            “First I hear they are trolls, now they are imps. I will investigate this, do not worry” Said Nathaniel. “Bless you sire!” Said the woman in blue.

            The bear lord decided that the best way to stop the shadowy threat was to learn as much as he could about them. He and his twenty men guarded the town that night while the villagers slept. Nathaniel let Pubbles roam the village to search for any threats as the bear lord himself walked through the village on foot carrying a well crafted bow and arrows. The soldiers in town had swords and bows, some stayed on their horses and others wanted to search on foot. The Bear lord’s group was on high alert.

            The night was cool and breezy, it had been a warm couple of days and this break on heat was a nice change. Some crickets could be heard chirping in outside of the village but otherwise it was quiet. A loud roar from Pubbles the bear broke the silence. Nathaniel went running toward his friends cries. He stopped in his tracks in shock when he saw it. Pubbles stood nervously in front a six foot tall oval shaped glowing portal. The portal was made of swirling purple energy and from the portal emerged three foot tall jet black monsters. They looked like small humans made of shadow itself. The first little shadow monster ran at Pubbles but was instantly destroyed by the bear’s mighty claws.

            These creatures weren’t invincible or even that strong but their numbers were incalculable and they continued to spawn from this mysterious portal. The portal appeared from the thin air outside of town and Nathaniel had no idea how to deal with it.

            “Men! We are under attack!” Nathaniel shouted as he took aim and shot the closest shadowman in the head with an arrow. The creature vanished taking the arrow with it. Nathaniel stepped backward as he shot at the creatures emerging from the portal.

            Swordsmen charged forward and sliced through the shadows, each slice destroyed them instantly. “Sire, these buggers are no threat to us!” Cheered Richard the swordsman. “Do not be over confident, we do not know if this is the extent of their strength” Nathaniel called back

            The shadowmen continued to flood out from the portal. Soon fifty shadows had emerged and were making their way into town. Richard slashed with skill and precision, each strike vanquished a shadowman. Then Richard was struck hard in the back, the blunt force of a charging shadowman made Richard stumble forward and drop his sword. The second his sword hit the ground a greedy little shadowman scooped it up and ran off with it. Richard yelled in anger and chased the little imp until he reached the portal. The sword thief escaped through the portal, a place Richard didn’t dare to follow.

            Nathaniel was the best archer on the island and his skills were put to the test while fighting such large numbers of creatures. Pubbles stuck close and clawed any creatures who came into melee range of Nathaniel.

            Villagers awoke to the sound of fighting. They saw their king fighting to protect them and this inspired some of the men and women to charge into battle, using rocks, shovels and anything the shadowmen hadn’t already looted from the town.

            The shadowmen continued to pour from the portal endlessly but the combined might of the villagers and Nathaniel’s group was able to fight them back. After an hour of fighting the shadowmen retreated back into the portal, having killed no one, injured just a few and stolen a keg of beer, two shovels, Sir Richard’s sword and Bob the archer’s bow.

            This was just the first night and Nathaniel knew that this would continue until he put an end to the portal.

Story writer

Joe slammed his glass down hard onto his wooden writing desk. The whiskey swirled in his glass then burst from the cup when it struck the table. Whiskey spilled on the desk and soaked his papers.

 He went back to typing on his typewriter, the whole time thinking about the person he lost. It had been a while since he said goodbye and even though he was the one who walked out the door he still hurt just as much as if he was the one who was abandoned.

Joe screamed and cursed, all of the noise and anger meant nothing as he yelled alone in this empty house. He took another drink of whiskey and tried typing but his words were becoming more erratic. Her face and voice drifted through his head making it hard to think and making it even harder to speak. He tried to fight back tears, he knew he was perfectly allowed to feel any emotions that he wanted to but he was the one who left. There was a preconceived notion that the person who leaves in a relationship is the bad guy but sometimes staying is more painful than leaving. While it hurts being left, sometimes it is actually harder to be the one who leaves.

 When you wake up one day and you realize that your relationship has been stagnating for a while you know that to stay would be toxic, and end up hurting for both people. Joe didn’t want to hurt her, the pain he caused her felt like a dagger through his heart but staying wouldn’t have been healthy for either of them.

 Joe took another drink and laughed at his own emotional stupidity, he didn't regret leaving he regretted that he had to leave. He didn't want to leave he wanted to stay, he wanted things to work out and he wanted life to be good, but that's not the way life works.

His phone started to ring as he tried to continue his writing.  He put his face in his hands and listened to the phone ring repeatedly. The phone finally stopped and as soon as it stopped, it began to ring immediately after. He did not want to speak with anyone, he was in too much pain and his nerves were too raw to share any of this with anyone.

 The phone kept ringing and ringing, Joe couldn’t handle the needy grasping for his attention and in a rage he stood up and knocked the phone to the ground. The phone flew off the stand was unplugged from the wall and crashed to the ground.

Joe felt like he had been ripped apart, it felt like he had cut off his own arm just to save the rest of his body. Logically it made sense, but that doesn't make it easier to cut off your own arm. It also doesn’t help if your arm could get right back up after you cut it off and then tried to strangle you to death every time you looked at it. Joe was emotionally wounded and missing his other half and thinking about it made him feel worse. He wondered if having his arm actually removed would have been easier than moving out and never being with Her again.

Happy memories of times they shared flooded through his brain, he slammed his fist down onto his desk out in anger and sadness. As he thought about the good memories the bad ones started to flood in just as fast as if his brain was trying to remind him why he left in the first place. The mixture of anger from having to leave, being reminded of the bad memories and missing the life that could have been, Joe stood up and kicked his writing desk. The desk flew backwards his typewriter crash to the ground and his bottle of whiskey shattered releasing the Amber liquid all over his hardwood floor. He sat on the ground surrounded by broken memories, shattered dreams, broken promises and broken possessions. He wanted to tell himself that things would get better and logically he knew they would but emotionally he felt that he had been stabbed in the heart. It felt so real that no amount of logic could explain away the feeling a chest wound or fatal injury. Anyone who said that emotional trauma is not painful has clearly had a heart that died a long time ago.

 The next morning Joe’s alarm clock went off with a loud, annoying series of beeps. The alarm clock sang out to the world that it was morning. If there were any piece of furniture that deserved to be kicked and knocked to the ground it wouldn’t be the phone, the desk, his bottle of whiskey or even his typewriter, it would have been the alarm clock. Yet the reverse was true and while his beloved possessions lay strewn across the floor, victims of his rage, the alarm clock chirped happily and comfortably atom his dresser.

Joe slowly stood up and rubbed his face trying to get the sleeplessness out of the eyes. He stretch his legs, walked to the bathroom and took a very long shower. After his shower he walked to the kitchen and drank several cups of coffee then headed out the door to greet his day.

No one in is day-to-day life knew or would know about what had happened the previous night, they wouldn't know about the pain or the broken furniture, the wouldn't know about the lack of sleep or the cries of the pain from feeling like he was emotionally stabbed in the chest. He would smile to them, they would smile back and life would go on, boring life would go on.

Song of the Night

The rain crashes down on the roof of the old house. The storm beat at the old structure like an angry mob clawing to get inside. A man sits alone at a typewriter typing at a feverish pace. His fingers straight down rapidly at the keys almost as fast the rain falls from the sky. The typing and clicking of the keys starts to sync up with the rhythm of the storm. The writer starts to sway to a tune that only he can hear. His fingers dance across the keys of the typewriter the same way a Pianist would play the piano. His innermost thoughts become physical on paper. The tune plays on, it is the song made by unusual instruments. The flowing and creativity of the human spirit, the typewriter keys the wind and rain striking the outside of the house and an added bit of music that only the writer can hear. The Beat Goes On and the writer sways faster has his typing speed increases. Nights like this were meant for stories and dreams. For imagination and songs that no one else can hear. 

I can hear the rain so clearly, i hear the typewriter and i even hear the music. Listen for it as the sound of rain starts in the back of your mind. I look up from my writing and realize, there is no rain, there is no music playing and the keys to my phone don't make a sound, but for a moment I truly heard it all. And I hope that when the night is quiet and still others are able to dream and they too can hear the song of the night 

Twisting Apathy

 A twisting wind whirled across the land, physical matter was torn to shreds in its wake. At the center was a person with a bored expression. 

The Earth spun through space, flew continuously around a giant ball of fire and all of this floated in an infinite weightless vacuum. Back on Earth the whirlwind torn through the land. The people of Earth were generally unimpressed by all of these events. 

"Get back to me when the whirlwind is on fire!" One person said with a shrug as the deadly wind ripped the neighbors house from the ground. As the house was torn to a thousand pieces and neighbor JoJack was pulled into a thousand directions the surrounding neighborhood was still uninterested and continued along with their lives.

"It's a bit of a nuisance, but if it was a real threat someone would have said something by now" John Muggak said to his friend, who had expressed momentarily concern then went back to his general comfortable state. John smiled, pleased with himself for being so smart. He walked over to his television, grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. "This week, there is terrible news!" Shouted the news reporter as he gripped each side of his desk. "Ashley Allure the famous starlet was dumped by her rich celebrity boyfriend! Who gets the car?! Which of the ten cars do they get? Stay tuned for all the details!" The nicely groomed newscaster shouted in a panic.

John Muggak looked alarmed "see?! If we worried about some wind outside we would have missed this!" John shouted at his friend. Then John felt proud for being so right about the situation.

The humanoid at the center of the whirlwind grew bored of the destruction and eventually stopped. Three towns were flattened by the powerful winds when the whirlwind being decided to quit. The winds dissipated and the humanoid vanished into the air. Sadly Ashley Allure never returned with her boyfriend.

Standing against the rain

            I stand in the pouring rain, staring ahead, stern faced and shoulders tensed. I leave my hands relaxed to give the impression that I am just as relaxed. I put little effort into my relaxed disguise as my eyes cut holes in anything I look at.

           

            The world is frequently chaotic and on fire, but today the world is pouring rain and the cobblestone beneath my feet falls away all around me. I see windows with warm yellow light emitting from them, inside the windows people are laughing, smiling and having conversations while other windows have people with calm faces and relaxed shoulders. No one can see me from their windows and no one bothers to look out into the rain.

            In my mind I am brandishing a crowbar and have broken those smug windows with their warm glow pouring out of them. I have also broken the smiling faces of the ones sitting comfortably inside. Back in reality I do nothing but stare while life pushes on and the people in the windows live their lives, never noticing my existence or caring to see it.

            Some people stand alone and invisible and those people have to stand the strongest. Occasionally a traveler might see me and help prop me up before walking off into the night but ultimately we are alone in this world.

            There are times I feel guilty for even thinking about how lonely I am or how bad it feels to struggle with little or no support. The reality is that all humans are alone and the human race is a race of insecure and highly intelligent animals who shriek into the darkness and pretend everything is fine. There are varying degrees of shrieking in the darkness but the Grim Reaper comes for us all sooner or later and when shadow of death looms over you, that is when you will truly find out that money, lovers and “yes men” cannot save you.

             The only certainty in life is death and taxes but death can’t be avoided.

I do not fear death, I have experienced pain in life and unless I am cast into the fiery pits of hell, I know death couldn’t be any worse than life. I will embrace a new life, an afterlife or the sweet release of oblivion. If there is no heaven then I will not have a consciousness to be bothered by it. The lights go out, the curtain falls and that’s all she wrote.

            I do like to think there is more than this life but I am not in a hurry to find out. I would like to experience the bliss of heaven but living on earth the way I have, it is easier to believe in a hell than believe in a heaven. Still all the same, I believe in heaven despite everything.

            So I endure the rain and the darkness, I take comfort in the little things and I curb my rage against others, even those who capitalize on the misfortune of others. Any time my mind decides that the only solution is violence, that is when I do nothing at all. I know that any action I took at that point would lead to something I might regret, or worse, something I would enjoy too much.