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• maarii88
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Birthday
• 1986-10-08
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Female
Location
• somewhere you are not
Member Since
• 2003-10-05
Occupation
• a storyteller
Real Name
• Jess - but Maarii to everyone here!
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• staying partially sane
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• a while
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• the cute, funny, serious, thought provoking ones
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• to one day save the world and fall in love
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• watching people, writing
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• apparently blowing things up with my mind
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Monday, January 19, 2004
The Journey - History: Day 7
The bells rang out over the city that fateful day. All the guests sat infront of the stone altar on the hilltop, waiting for the blushing bride to appear. The wind whipped up the green and white ribbons, and the sun shone down with a fierce glory.
He stood next to the priest. He smiled through his nervous feeling. He even gave his servants the day off. In all his life he could not remember a time when he had felt so ready to be so happy.
A man ran up the hill, stopped at the back of the gathering, and fell to his knees from fatigue. The priest looked at the bride-groom, a quick glance of question. Then the tired man stumbled to the altar and gasped out three words, "She is gone."
The groom stood in utter disbelief. She had loved him, she had said. They had shared many a passionate embrace. His life would be perfect with her by his side. And now she was gone . . . but it couldn't be true!
Then the messenger handed him a slip of paper. He read it, mumbled the words, even spoke aloud, and yet he could not believe.
How could I possibly love you? Don't you see it was a lie all along? I would never be your puppet, and you will never see me again. I have reclaimed the man I love, and you will not ruin my life.
The priest stared into his eyes and saw the fire before any other person. He felt the rage within his bones, and this quiet, godly man screamed. He screamed as the fire spread around his feet, engulfed the altar and all the people.
The hilltop was ablaze when he ran into the forest. The agonizing screams were floating on the air as he tied the rope around the tree. The blackened shapes were barely visible when he looped it about his neck. The fire was his creation, and he had no choice but to end the life that could bring about such destruction.
The fall was not so far to break his neck, and so he hung there, gasping for breath. A shadow spread itself around his body, and he was then removed.
From barely a foot off, he stared into his own dead eyes. Then from behind him the shadow whispered in his ear. "I will save you," it whispered. "I will give you eternal power. I will bring you to the world, and the world will submit to your rule."
He looked into this shadow and asked of its name.
"You know. I am you."
And still he did not understand.
"I am the agony. I am the death. I am the opposition to the light."
And a name rang through his memory. Amlerka. He agreed. He could only agree. And so the Shadow named him. The Fire Starter. Toresti Tunash.
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