Windmill in the rain

            The rain poured down in buckets, the wind kicked up and rushed through the blades of the windmill. The windmill turned. The windmill blades turned and inside the grinding wheel spun. Around and around did the wheel spin. The windmill was empty, no one was there to grind wheat or corn, but still the wheel spun. Weather waits for no man and the wind blew harder and the rain poured down. Huge amounts of energy and motion poured through this old device. A towering building made with giant fans all just to turn one grinding wheel. A wheel that was small by comparison to the building and all of the effect it needed.

            The wind blew on all night and the windmill continued to turn without rest. The stone wheel grinded and sparked and embers began to fly off. Stone grinding on stone, in a building made of wood. The sparks flew and embers found a cozy home in a pile of unused wheat. The embers burned brightly, eating up the oxygen and burning the wheat. The fire burned and produced energy and heat. But there was no one around to feel its warmth or to tame it. So the fire burned on. Flames flicked the air and slowly rose up. Getting bigger and stronger. The ember turned into fire and now formed flames that burned brightly as it ate all the wheat. The fire was large now and burning bright, it crackled and flicked. Now it was so large it spread to the wood in the building, lumber and planks of wood keeping the large structure together. The fire had become greedy and ate and ate as it spread. The flames grew bigger and produced more flames as it went.

            The rain poured down and the wind kicked up. The windmill turned and the flames spread. The fire continued to grow and it burned everything in its path. Now the flames were huge and unforgiving. None could stand in its way. The flames burned the wood and destroyed the beam turning the wheel. The grinding wheel slowed down then stopped. The fire climbed higher and higher until it reached the ceiling. In its mindless hunger it consumed the ceiling too. The windmill had been protecting the flames within from the rain and the wind. Now the roof had a hole burned through it and the windmill fan blades even caught fire. The rain poured down and battled the flames but the fire was stubborn and clung onto the windmill for life. The rain beat down on the fire as the fire burned down the Windmill.

            Morning finally arrived and the storm had passed. The rain had moved on, leaving only soggy earth, the windmill burned down and the flames were extinguished, now leaving only ash. Nature can produce such fierce elements that rage on and produce infinite energy and power, but then the next moment it could all be gone, like the passing of the storm, the turning of the windmill or the burning of the flame.

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

Times End

The air was chilly and cold, snow covered the ground and snowflakes drifted through the air, occasionally flying into things and getting stuck. Lanterns hung from thin black metal poles that dotted the road. The road and everything else was covered in snow. The surrounding trees were covered in snow and the lake was frozen.  Fog hung in the air, adding a pale gray and darkness to the white sheets of snow.

Through the fog a man could be seen. He wore a brown overcoat, black shoes, warm leather gloves and a scarf. He wore a bowler hat and was walking up the road. Wind blew, but he didn’t fight against it, he just walked like normal. He walked up the road calmly and didn’t seem bothered by the ice, snow, wind and cold. The man’s white hair blew around, messing it up. The man had a trimmed white beard, it came down to his neck. The man was thin and old, but didn’t seem burdened by that either. In his hand he carried a lantern. It was a metal lantern with a handle and the light was glowing a pale blue. It helped him see through the fog and did a better job than the street lamps that were burning their normal fire and producing yellow light.

The fog parted as the man passed, as if the blue light was repelling it. The man walked at a slow and stead pace, where he was headed, was a mystery. Then the man stopped and pulled a pocket watch from his side coat pocket. He looked at the time, then clicked the top several times. The very next second, the man was gone. He vanished from existence as if he never existed at all.

The old gentleman reappeared in a completely different place. This place was an empty chuck of land, floating in a dark and endless abyss. The ground was cobblestone and chest high walls were built alone the edges of the floating island. The walls were brown old brick, but were in decent condition. These plain old walls were the only thing keeping someone from stumbling off the edge and falling into the endless abyss. Old Fashioned black metal street lights sat in each corner of the main square. The square was the center of the island, from this location, little cobble stone paths ran off into different directions. Each stone path linked smaller floating islands to the main square. On the southern side of the square is a half built bridge that doesn’t go anywhere. The old man refers to is as “The Bridge to the abyss” because walking over the bridge would cause you to fall right in.

Each little connected island or ‘room’ also had small walls build along the edges, but no roof or doors anywhere to be seen. If you go to the north there is a lone door. The door has never been opened. It doesn’t seem to lead to anything though. Its just a door sitting in the middle of one of the rooms north of the square. All of this was know as the End of Time. this floating island was like a lost and found for the universe. Anything with memory and importance that is lost, ends up at the End of time. there is a room on the cobblestone island that is filled with trinkets, knick-knacks, mementoes and anything that was a physical with hopes, memories and sentimental attachment attached to it. But for the more obscure things, like a single thought or the name of a long lost friend, those things all end up in a large leather bound book. The book had its own stand and was located in the square with the old man. The man, who was named ‘Zindel’, would also use the book to summon up the words of other books and documents through history.

            The creation of the island of cobblestone and walls wasn’t a plan, but series of random events. There was a point in the future when time, the universe and all of existence ends. The dark abyss of nothing was all that remained. But such an enormous event as all of time suddenly stopping made this moment in oblivion to be linked with every time and place that had ever existed. The story of Zindel and his floating island will have to be for another day. For now, this is how the End of time came to be and how it works.

Now Zindel lives for eternity in a place were time doesn’t exists. He uses his perch to oversee time and watches it all pass before his eyes on an infinite loop. Time is a tricky thing, its hard to explain and isn’t something you can see or hold onto, yet everyone believes in it and is conscious of it at all ‘times’.

Zindel had been visiting an old wintry land that was familiar to him before he returned to the end of time. He cannot interact with anything in any time, but still likes to go visit. Occasionally Zindel will peek into a random country on earth and view a New Years Eve celebration. To him, it looks like a countdown to the end of time, but to the others, it is a great and wonderful time. It is a time for hope for the future and reflection on the past. Every year the people of the land want to receive a better year than the last one and every year seems just a new and fresh as the last one. It’s a cycle the people get stuck in. they have anticipation for the New Year and are tired of the old one. It is as if they are stuck in a time loop. Zindel watches this and laughs. The blissful optimism is as funny as it is enviable.

Time ticks on, the world clock ticks, tick tick tick. But still life goes on, so lets all enjoy this New Year and look forward to the challenges and rewards it will bring with it.

Happy New Year!

Red and the winter festival part 2

It was the night before Christmas and Yule town was just finished setting up for their Christmas Eve party. Red stepped into the town square and saw tables set up outside full of food and various drinks. There was eggnog, spiced wine and brandy and for the children there was juice, hot coco and some kind of fruit punch. The food was an assortment of cheeses, roast meat with garlic cloves, lots of fruit, cakes and pies. Red was getting hungry just looking at it all.

The mayor walked up to the center of town and stepped up onto a newly built stage. “Greetings people of Yule, let us begin the joyous celebration at once!” Said the mayor. The people in the town square cheered. The party had officially begun and Red couldn’t wait to dig into a little bit of everything. There weren’t many partygoers at first, but as time passed villagers joined the party until the entire village was there. The stage now had a band on it. They played happy, festive music that filled the air and mixed with the sound of laughter and talking.

The entire village was dressed in colorful red and green and white clothes, some had little sprigs of leaves with berries pinned to their hats or dresses and some walked around with long walking canes painted like candy canes. Red was quickly caught up in all of the merriment and festivities and for a brief time forgot the danger that forced him to flee to the winter land in the first place. As Red danced and drank a man walked up to him. “Merry Christmas!” Red said happily, not really looking at the man. “Yeah, yeah. I need a word with you” Said the man gruffly. Red turned and focused on the man standing in front of him. The man wore an old fashioned black cap, with a scarf wrapped tightly around his face, he was dressed in plain winter clothes that were colored black, gray and tan. His clothes were so plain he almost stuck out in the crowd of people dressed like candy canes and Christmas trees. Red followed the man to the edge of the party.

As soon as they were away from the rest of the villagers the man spoke up. “Listen, I’m just a messenger. I’m here with a warning. You’ve made some powerful enemies and running into the winter lands isn’t going to save you. There is someone on the outskirts of town here to kill you. If you don’t meet him in an hour, he will destroy this precious town” Said the Messenger. Red was stunned. He couldn’t believe someone found him all the way out here. “who’s after me? And who are you?” Red asked. “I was paid to tell you to go face your doom outside of town or the town gets destroyed. You don’t need to know my name. You know who is after you, the question is who did they send to kill you. I don’t know the answer” The messenger said. Then before Red could reply, the man walked off and left the village.

Red didn’t want his trouble to effect the town so he went to meet with the mysterious assassin. Red walked for an hour and finally saw a tall thin figure standing in the distance. The figure quickly disappeared and reappeared directly in front of Red. The man wore pale blue robes with a hood, had white hair and bluish skin. The man put his hood down and stared at Red. “I am the Warlock of the winter wasteland. I live so far north that neither man nor animal lives there. It was to my surprise that a messenger from a far off land found me and offered me anything I want, the only thing I would have to do is kill a young man named Red. I used my magic and tracked you down. Now I am here to kill you. What do you have to say, Red?” Asked the Warlock. Red wasn’t sure what to say. It seemed desert assassins couldn’t survive the winter lands, so they hired one of the inhabitance to kill him. Red knew he couldn’t talk his way out of this and wasn’t sure if he could even win this fight, and he could only think of one thing to say “What was your price?” Asked Red. The Warlock smiled “Your not going to plead for your life, or bargain? I respect that. All I asked for Women, full of energy and life. Young and beautiful women are a rare commodity out in the wasteland.” Replied the Warlock

Red clenched his teeth. Red didn’t want to die, but now he knew that if he did die, helpless women would be shipped to the freezing wasteland like cattle, used as payment. Without a word Red pulled out two black and silver pistols and began firing. Streams of bullets flew at the Warlock with incredible speed and accuracy. Red never had to reload or buy bullets. His gun was given to him by Death itself and these guns could shoot bullets made of pure silver and death’s own decaying magic. The silver bullets would rip through undead and werewolves with ease and the decay magic would rot away at living tissue.

The bullets all zoomed toward The warlocks head, but before they hit, the warlock vanished in a puff of snow. “As long as there is ice and snow, I cannot be destroyed” Said the Warlock, his voice echoing through the valley. “We will see about that” Red said. He stood in place and slowly turned in a circle as he held his guns up ready to continue shooting. He wasn’t going to let the Warlock sneak up on him. A gust of freezing air and snow rushed up from underneath him, causing all of his muscles to stiffen and he was thrown off balance. The cold was so extreme some of the skin on his face and neck felt like it was burning. Luckily heavy clothing, a long coat and leather gloves covered the rest of his body.

The warlock appeared as Red tried getting the ice and frost off of his face. The Warlock grabbed a hold of Red’s neck and Red could instantly feel his skin burning from frostbite as his air way was slowly crushed by the Warlocks strong, bony grip. Red fired off shots at point blank but the Warlock was gone in a split second. Red gasped for air and coughed. Red was hunched over but tried to regain balance. He waited for the wintry bastard to reappear. The Warlock did appear again and was about to strike, but before he could, he was hit with a blinding light.

Red stumbled back away from the evil Wizard and opened fire. Two shots hit before the Warlock disappeared again. Red looked back to see where the light came from. It was from the village. it was almost midnight, which meant Christmas and the village lit up their tree and placed a bright shining star on the top. Without even realizing it, the village of Yule might have saved his life.

            The Warlock reappeared but was moving slower as the decay of death slowly poisoned him. None could escape the grasp of death, wizards and common men alike were at Death’s mercy. The Warlock pushed out his hands and shot a blast of ice. Red dodged it and opened fire. The bullets flew out like a machine gun and hit the Warlock. The evil wizard’s hands, chest and head were now full of bullets. The Warlock didn’t bleed, because he had no blood or humanity left in him, instead he just stood with a shocked expression, then a strong wind blew and his body faded into the snow.

            Red was badly injured but was able to hobble back to Yule town. Just as he arrived he heard a roaring cheer from the villagers. “Merry Christmas!!!” they said in unison. It was Christmas. The lights from the village glowed bright and sparkled like stars in the sky. Despite his injuries, Red felt an overwhelming sense of calm and joy. This is what Christmas was about, Joy and being with loved ones. Red knew he had to leave in the morning, to avoid any further threat to the town, but he would treasure his time in Yule town and always remember the Joy and happiness of Christmas.

Red and the Winter festival part 1

A young man in a long brown coat walked through the winter forest. The man was named Red. He traveled across the land, from the winter continent to the spring valleys. He never used his real name and instead was just referred to as ‘Red’ because of the bright red shirt he wore under his brown trench coat. Red also wore shin high brown boots and tan pants, with the legs tucked into the boots. He had light brown hair and brown eyes. Every so often in the right light his eyes would look dark crimson, this added to his nickname of ‘Red’.

            Red traveled through the winter lands and just made it through the forest when he noticed a sparkling village in the distance. Red was cold and tired and was looking forward to finding some place to sleep and get something to eat. He eagerly walked toward the town. The closer he got to the town the more he noticed all of the little lights and festive looking decorations on each house. The lights on each house reflected off the snow and made the whole area sparkle. Night slowly crept in and the darker it became the more vibrant the village looked. The red, green and white lights shined like a beacon for all travelers. Each house had an old fashioned and cozy look to it, each roof was covered in lights and every door had a wreath of evergreen branches on it.

            The village of lights was so close now. Red was so tired from all the walking he barely made it in through the town entrance. He leaned against a green lamppost and stopped for a minute to rest before he walked through the town to search for an Inn. Red looked up and noticed a hanging sign attached to the lamppost. It read “Yule town”

            “Well at least I know where I am now.” Red said to himself. It saved him from having to ask someone. After resting, Red began walking again. He strode through the middle of town. The town had a cobblestone road that went in different directions through the whole town, little stone paths branched out from the main road and led off to each house. At the center of town was a giant green tree covered in bright lights and decorations. The tree was surrounded by cobblestone, but was standing in dirt. Red assumed the village grew the tree at the center of town, that or they built the town around the biggest tree in the forest.

            As Red made his way through town he saw happy villagers going about their day, they all seemed merry and cheerful. They dressed warmly, but seemed used to the cold and never even flinched when the wind and cold picked up. Red on the other hand retreated into his coat with every freezing gust of wind. Red eventually found the Inn. It was the local tavern and the upstairs had beds for travelers. It was a big building decorated and designed the same as the houses, but this was larger and had big windows on each end of the first floor. Red looked in as he walked toward the door. A fireplace with a roaring fire warmed the area and the patrons ate, drank and laughed. Red pushed the wooden door open and a cold breeze followed him in. no one seemed to notice. Red felt the rush of warm air and let out a sigh of relief.

            He walked up to the bar and sat down. “I’ll have whatever everyone else is drinking” Red told the bartender. This town was so unique, Red hoped the alcohol would be just as unique. The bartender smiled and set down a mug of warm purple liquid. Red took a sip. It was warm, spiced wine and it warmed him right up. “Not bad” He muttered.

            The tavern carried on in a jolly manner and a small band of musicians played festive music. “Is there a celebration or festival going on?” Red asked the bartender. “There is a big one coming up soon, but our town is usually like this. It might be a little livelier tonight though” The bartender said with smile. Red nodded “Thanks, maybe I will stick around then. I will need a bed for tonight, or maybe till after the festival” Red told the Barkeeper. Red paid up front for the room and then paid for his drink.

            It was very late now and Red slowly climbed the stairs, he found his room and used to key to open the door. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. The room cozy, it had a single mattress bed with a basic wooden frame, white sheets and a red blanket. A nightstand was next to the bed with a candle on it. On the opposite side of the room was a small chest for Red to put his belongings. The room was on the small side, if Red sat in the middle of the floor and stretched his arms out on either side of him his fingertips would touch the bed with one hand and the chest with the other.

            Red dropped his small bag of possessions into the chest, snuffed out the candle and went to bed. The bed was so comfortable and he was so tired he fell asleep immediately.

            That morning was the day before the festival. Red had forgotten to ask what the name or purpose of the celebration was, but he put that out of his mind for now. Red stretched and put his brown coat back on and grabbed his belongings. he left his room and locked the door behind him. He walked down to the tavern on the first floor. It was quiet and peaceful, which wasn’t unusual for morning, but it was quite a contrast from the jovial singing and dancing from the night before.

            “Morning” said the bartender. Red turned and smiled. “Good morning. I forgot to ask last night, but I want to know more about your festival” Red said. The bartender smiled “Well, its called Christmas. It’s a word from the old world, no one knows what it means, all we know is it is a time of peace and joy. We decorate with bright lights, lanterns, evergreen branches and we even decorate the tree in the center of town. Its our Christmas tree. The rest of the year we just call it Yule tree and we take down all the decorations and lights. Our homes usually have some lights or some little decoration all year, but its on Christmas time that we truly let loose. For this land it marks the end of the year. Even though we aren’t sure the original purpose of the celebration, today we use it celebrate a year of good will and good fortune. To help make sure the next year is just as good, everyone in town exchanges gifts as we sit under the giant Yule tree. Then we will drink hot beverages and sing. It’s a good time. Tonight is Christmas eve, so there will be a little party then the gifts will be exchanged tomorrow. Then tomorrow night we sing and welcome the New Year” The bartender explained, His face beaming with joy and pride.

            Red smiled “wow, Its pretty good luck that I arrived when I did.” Red replied. Red was on the run from assassins and criminals and hadn’t had a chance to stay in one place for too long. Yule town was far off the normal roads and trade routes and it was so cold, Red doubted desert assassins would show up looking for him. With that kind of peace of mind all he had to do was relax and enjoy the celebration.

Jack Frost

In early December Fred was driving home from work. He wore a heavy brown jacket a wool hat and brown work boots. He drove an old sedan and had the heat cranked up. He sped down a lone country road, the road was clear but snow piled up in the open field next to the road.

The dusty smell of an old car’s heating system and the sound of Christmas music filled the car. Fred hummed along to one of the many tunes that he knew by heart, but kept forgetting the name. As he was driving he spotted a young boy walking alone through the snow in the snowy field. Fred carefully slowed down and then stopped his car. He opened his door and stepped out. He took a few steps away from his car and called out to the boy. The child didn’t respond. Fred heard crows and looked up, spotting a murder of crows flying overhead. Fred walked into the snow, it wasn’t too deep and only went up to his ankles. It wasn’t that easy to walk in though. Fred called out again as he walked closer to the boy.

After a few minutes Fred was only ten feet or so from the boy and yelled again, this time getting a little angry. The boy looked up. He had crystal blue eyes that were alert and showed a sense of intelligence and cunning, but his face was that of a young boy. His hair was white and his skin pale as snow. The boy smiled and a chill went down Fred’s spine. Fred blinked and the next moment the boy was gone. The crows no longer seemed interested in this spot and flew off in different directions. Confused and a little scared, Fred walked back to his car. When he got to his car he silently drove home and never told anyone about what he had seen.

Fred was just one of many to have seen this boy. The boy was actually not even a boy, but the spirit of winter, Jack Frost. He had pale blue skin, crystal blue eyes and hair made of ice and snow. He was small like a child but was devious and intelligent as a creature centuries old. He could look like a human, or close enough to fool people, and loved to play tricks. Depending on his mood he might do something as innocent as lead some poor chump out into a snowy field and then disappear or maybe something more sinister like using wind and snow to hide and knock down markers on a hiking trail and laughing as winter hikers got lost and muddled around in the snow.

Some have called Jack Frost an icy devil or snow demon and compared to the saintly Santa Clause, he might be. Jack Frost isn’t really evil though. He doesn’t care about corrupting men’s souls or trying to end anyone’s life, he only cares about having fun, even if it is at the expense of others.

Unfortunately, some people have died from Jack’s cruel tricks. He never had intended to kill anyone, he just doesn’t seem to realize or care how dangerous winter can be for humans and how fatal his tricks can become. Since Jack Frost's tricks can be so deadly, crows follow him around as they look for their next meal.

So if you ever find a boy alone in the snow and surrounded by crows, it is best to ignore him and save yourself the grief Jack Frost will most likely bring.

The Journeyman part 2

Jorn kept running and the roars grew louder and more intense until finally the sound came from right above him. Jorn looked up and something dropped down from the ceiling. It smashed the stone steps and anything else in its way, making a large open space in the castle. This new creature had the shape of a dragon currently, but its body was made from a twisting shadowy darkness and it would occasionally change its size or shape in small ways. This explained how it fit through all the doors and hallways. Jorn swiped the kings sword through the air, not sure exactly were the shadow serpent was. It was so dark and Jorn could only see glimpses of shapes before the beast moved. At least the lumpy flesh monster had pale skin and solid features. There was no way to fight a dragon made of shadows in a castle where there is no light. Since flailing his sword didn’t seem to work Jorn turned around and ran back up the stairs. To get to the main exit, he would have to run past the dragon and he didn’t like that idea. So instead he backtracked hoping he could find an alternate route.

            The journeyman ran like mad as he heard the shadowy serpents body cut through the air as it moved, never touching the ground once.

Jorn was almost back to the armory, he thought maybe he could trap the dragon in there if he ran in, then double backed. It was a stupid idea but he wasn’t thinking very clearly. The dragon seemed to be getting closer and it lashed out with dark tendrils. The tendrils struck Jorns arm and back. Each strike felt like being hit with a sword that was shot out of a cannon. Jorn stumbled forward and then fell on his face. His old sword clanged against the ground and slide across the floor out of reach. The King’s sword seemed to be bound to his hand though and didn’t move when Jorn fell. Jorn was on the ground now, bleeding but still alive. He gasped for breath and scrambled to his feet. He saw movement in the corner of his eye and swung his sword. The kings blade sliced through the air and struck an oncoming attack from the dragon. The dragon roared loudly, its roar seemed to be coming from every direction.

            The Journeyman hoped to trap the dragon in the room, but now it seemed he was trapped. Jorn wasn’t a knight and didn’t think he could kill a demon shadow dragon. He would have even had a tough time even trying to kill the twisted flesh freak from earlier. Dark tendrils shot forward again, and luckily Jorn was able to strike them with his blade. The Kings blade seemed to be doing some of the work, making Jorns reflexes better and his strikes stronger.

            The dragon was tired of being slashed and instead of attacking with its tendrils or claws it opened its mouth and let out a blast of dragon breath. Jorn saw the inside of the dragon’s mouth for a split second, it looked like a glowing portal or ball of dark energy was contained within the creature’s throat. Then the dragon breath filled the air. It wasn’t fire or toxic and it didn’t even smell that bad. Instead of normal dragon breath this dragon had a demonic haze that it could breath out. The demonic breath affected the victim’s soul. It poised their very roots and prolonged exposure would turn the victim into a demon as the soul corroded away.

            Jorn’s muscles tightened in pain. His veins constricted and his eyes opened wide. He stood in this state for a few seconds as he was paralyzed with pain. He knew he needed to escape, but he was cornered and the demon breath was filling the room. The only hope was to open the dormant portal. Jorn figured he was going to die anyway, he might as well take his chances with the portal. He stumbled over to it as he felt his senses going numb. The portal was soon within arms reach and Jorn struck it with the kings blade. Blinding light bursts out from the small portal as it opened. Jorn waiting to see what he just released from the portal. He could have just released the next plague on human existence, all because he wanted to buy a few more precious seconds of life.

            What emerged from the portal was not a demon, but a knight, a shimmering knight with sturdy armor. The dragon reared back and was about to launch forward at the new intruder, but before it could, the knight lifted his sword up and stabbed it forward. Light surrounded the blade as the sword stabbed into the dragon’s head. The Shadow dragon roared and began rapidly changing shape. The shadows seemed unstable and it began lashing out all around it. The knight blocked with his shield but the force of each attack pushed him backward. Jorn realized this knight was his only chance for survival and tossed him the kings blade. The knight saw this, stabbed his own sword into the stone castle floor then caught the king’s blade. As soon as the knight touched the sword it began to glow and give off even more power than before. It was clear the knight was no ordinary man. The knight ran forward at the twisting mass of shadows. The dragon was still striking out on all directions and even though the knight was hit, he continued to charge. Then when he was within range he stabbed the center of the shadow dragon with the king’s blade. The screaming of a thousand souls echoed through the hallways and the shadow dragon melted into the ground. Once defeated all of the souls he had consumed were released into the air. They flew off rapidly in different directions like bats from a cave.

            The Knight turned to the Journeyman and returned the King’s blade. Jorn knew the knight deserved the sword more, but took it anyway. Without saying a word, the knight stepped back through the portal. Jorn was tempted to follow. The knight was so powerful that he must have been from a world were humans ruled. Before Jorn made up his mind to follow, the portal closed. The portal not only closed but also disappeared as if it never existed. Portals open all the time, the really skilled can close a portal,  but no one has ever destroyed a portal before. Jorn stared at the empty space were the portal used to be. His mind was lost in wonder and amazement. Then he realized he needed to get back to his village. The shadow dragon might have been dead, but the castle was still dangerous.

             Jorn slowly made his way out of the castle. Even though the castle was till full of demons, it was possible that none of them bothered the Journeyman after they all heard the shadow dragon die. Not all demons know fear, but they do know that they would prefer to stay alive. So Jorn was free to leave the castle in peace. The very moment he stepped onto the grass just outside the castle walls, the Journeyman sighed a heavy sigh of relief. He had survived and even had the king’s blade to show for it. The village would be so proud, they might even call Jorn a Hero. And even though the knight saved his life, he still made the trip by himself and did what most ordinary men would fear to do.

            As the Journeyman walked home, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of world lay just on the other side of that portal

Autumns End

The wind blows and dry fall leaves rustle and rattle as they glide along the pavement. The air has gotten chilly and the trees have lost all of their color. The official end of autumn might not be till December, but by late November everyone is preparing for winter. Autumn is a strange time of the year, it’s the shortest and the most beautiful. The trees turn yellow, orange and red like a great glowing fire and like a flame they only last a short time before being snuffed out. Autumn’s beauty cannot last forever, though some of us wish it could. It is the same reason that autumn is so short as it is lovely. Autumn is just a transition between summer and winter. The leaves absorbed as much sun as they could in summer and for a month or so they release their leaves and let the wind blow them away as they prepare for a winter hibernation.

In the united states there are states that get warm weather all the time, there are some states were it feels like spring all the time, either early spring with its sunshine and mild weather, or late spring with cool weather and rain on a daily basis. There are places were it is cold and snowing constantly, yet there are no places that experience a longer autumn or a perpetual autumn. To keep a balance of chilly weather that’s not too cold and leaves always on the brink of loosing all of their leaves would be impossible. So even though the season is not officially over, we all know that by the end of thanksgiving, it will be Autumn’s end. So wish it good-bye and good luck and prepare for the winter ahead. It is ok to be sad when your favorite season passes, but don’t forget to enjoy the time you have in between as you wait for the Autumn to leaves to come around again.

The Journeyman part 1

There was a land that was dark and chaotic. Monsters lurked around every corner and portals that lead to other realities were scatter across the land. These portals were easy to access and the results of opening them were unpredictable. These portals could unleash dark energy that would ravage the area or the portal could open a door to untold nightmares and monsters. Portals could also be used for good though. Containing healing light, magical treasures or even doors to other kingdoms were the humans thrive.

            In this story we follow the Journeyman in the land of twilight, the world on the brink of complete darkness, where humanity struggles to hold on. The Journeyman named Jorn had traveled to a large dark castle. The castle was once a bright and busy place and the king of the castle ruled over and united the whole land, but a portal had appeared and carelessly opened inside the castle walls. Demons flooded into the castle, killing the royal family and all of the strongest knights.

            The Journeyman was going to the castle in search of a powerful sword that was in the king’s vault. Enough time had passed that most of the demons had dispersed through the land and if Jorn was careful he might be able to steal the ancient blade away from the remaining demons of the castle.

            Under cover of night, Jorn crept softly into the castle through a large hole in the main wall. He couldn't use a torch without alerting any enemies, so his eyes had to get used to the complete darkness of the castle. Jorn kept his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walked. He wanted to be ready for anything. Jorn had come prepared, wearing leather boots and gauntlets, chain mail vest under a leather chest piece and a bronze helmet that covered most of his head and face. He wasn't a trained warrior or knight so all he carried was a long sword and a small shield and since he was trying to sneak into the castle he didn't bring any metal armor, not that he could afford it in the first place.

            Jorn’s heart had been beating quickly ever since he first stepped into the dark castle. He inched along the ground, barely lifting his feet up at all and every step down was slow and deliberate. As he moved through the castle corridors he felt like something else was moving through the castle too. Like some kind of invisible creature was moving through the darkness without making a single sound. All Jorn had, was a feeling. Logic told him he was being paranoid but instinct told him that if he were to reach out into the darkness his hand would grasp something made of nightmares. Something that would be so horrible it could only exist in the worst parts of his mind. Jorn tried to calm down and continued to move through the dark halls. He never made any sudden movements and found that every step forward was unhindered.

            Finally he reached a large pair of doors with a lock. Beyond this door should be the room where the kings sword was kept. Now it was time for the loud part. Jorn rustled through his bag and pulled out a lock picking kit. He sat there and fiddled with the lock, trying his best to pick the lock as quickly and quietly as possible. Anything of value was always behind a locked door or inside a locked chest and since Jorn didn’t know where the keys were, he would have to pick the lock. Picking locks wasn’t too much of a problem for the Journeyman. He had a variety of skills like lock picking, the hard part was trying to avoid drawing attention as the metal of the lock clinked around with the pick.

            With one final click and a sudden pop, the lock was sprung and the door opened with a loud long drawn out creek. The sound of the metal lock springing and the creaking of the door echoed down the stairs, through the hallway and bounced around the castle for a few seconds before everything returned to being dead silent. Jorn was relieved that he got the lock open safetly, but was now nervous again as he realized how much noise he just made. It was time to get the sword and then make an escape.

            He knew what the sword looked like by a painting he saw in the village if the king holding the sword. So now the trick was finding it. The room was filled with armor, swords, cannons and gunpowder. Everything was covered in dust and cobwebs and some of the weapons and armor were rusted or rotted away. As Jorn searched he eventually came upon a chest. It was wood with gold lining and had a big old lock on it. Jorn didn’t know if he had time to pick another lock and figured if a special sword was in that room it was probably in the fancy box. He only had one option left. Jorn unsheathed his sword and struck down at the chest. The lock was too big to break, but the hinges that were attached to the rotting decades old wood would break with enough force. Jorn struck the same spot twice, making more noise than he would have liked. Finally the chest opened and inside was the Kings sword. It looked new and shined even though there was no light to reflect off of it.

            Then something caught Jorn’s eye, a faint glow in the corner of the room. He walked over to it and noticed it was an unopened portal. Dormant portals just look like small little orbs of dull light until opened. This light had a bluish hue, not that the color of the portal meant anything to Jorn. While he was investigating the portal a large monster had crawled into the room and located the source of all of this noise. The Journey man looked up his eyes wide and terrified as he saw a giant humanoid creature. It had eyes that were black as coal, sickly pale skin that had a sheen on it, like a mucus or moisture of some kind. The creature was bald with floppy eyes and a big stupid face. Inside his mouth were jagged teeth and a large tongue that seemed to be coated in thick toxic saliva. Jorn could see all of this because the giant had its mouth open and drool oozed from his mouth and ran down his tongue then dropped off and made a little splash on the ground. The saliva changed the spot on the floor from gray stone to a fragile looking black stone, like burned wood. Jorn held his old sword in one hand and the new sword in his other. He stood ready to fight as he slowly moved around this abomination.

            “Your soul looks delicious. I haven’t had human in so long” the abomination said, its words were slow and gurgled by the thick saliva in its mouth. The creature moved forward with the speed and agility that you would not expect from a lumpy flesh monster. The creature tried to grab Jorn with its large fleshy hands. The creature had broken and jagged fingernails, which weren't dangerous, but this further added to the disgust and horror Jorn felt toward the creature. The journeyman narrowly escaped the creatures grasp. Then spun around and stabbed both of his swords into the creatures arm. The old sword left a wound, the kings sword left a wound but also seemed to burn the monster. The lumpy sack of flash recoiled in pain. Its face twisted into an angry grimace. It then slammed its fists into the ground. The sound echoed through the castle and then the ground began to rumble. The fleshy ogre gave a taunting smile then ran off. Something bigger was on its way and it didn't seem to make allies. The abomination disappeared into the darkness with the same unrealistic speed that it used during the battle. Jorn tried to run out too. He left the armory, ran down the hallway and reached the stairs. The ground rumbled and he heard a roar. Something big was chasing him, but Jorn didn't know from which direction, or how it could even fit in these narrow hallways.

The Clock Ticked

The clock ticked. Tick tick tick. The sound echoed through the dark hallways of the oversized house. Moonlight shined through one of the windows, the image of the window was projected to the floor. The clock ticked and everything else was silent and still. Tick tick tick. Then footsteps were heard, hasty and quick footsteps. the wood floor creaked under each footstep and was joined by the sound of slippers slapping the ground with each quick step.

A pair of legs rushed passed the window and disrupted the image on the floor for just a second. The clock continued to tick and the footsteps grew faster. Then in the darkness a figure stood before the clock as it ticked and as the ticking echoed through the house. Such a soft noise traveled so far and seemed so loud in the dead of night. The figure hastily grabbed the clock and shook it with annoyance. After a few moments of fiddling with the clock, the ticking eventually stopped. One last tick could be heard and the faint little sound bounced through the whole house and seemed so loud for just a second. Then all was silent, everything still.

The clock lay motionless and silent on the table, no longer telling time or ticking away the seconds. The footsteps quickly moved back through the house. The slippers slapped against the ground, the floor creaked and the light from the window was disrupted. The footsteps walked quickly and then they too stopped. All was silent in the house and all was still. The night continued on and time passed, but the ticking had finally stopped.