Sunday, May 7, 2006

Black Night

Eternal shadow cast In ancient moonlight He was the last Standing against the night Stars left the skies Settling in his raven hair Tears fell from his eyes Terrible burdens to bear From the dead and the dying Left behind People still crying Left behind Immortal was he Dead were they Price of Immortality Thousands did Time slay Leaving him alone In the fading moonlight Making flesh seem as bone On a lonely, black night

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Tuesday, April 4, 2006

The Blood that Flowed for Power

Dara shuffled her feet, her impatience plainly displayed. She had joined a secret training camp for aspiring young assassins. At first she had been satisfied with her training, but she felt the push for speed, for revenge. She could not wait forever, not while her parent's murderers still ran free. She needed to elevate her position extremely quickly. There were two ways to achieve this. One was to accomplish a notable deed that was more becoming of someone of a higher position. The person who performed this deed was then given the postion their accomplishment deserved. The second way was more dark. A person had to challenge an older, more experienced student to a duel and win. The only difficulty was that it had to be a duel to the death, and there was only one way to ignite a death match. Dara smiled. She had chosen the second way. A tall, masculine man named Zare approached with several of his friends. They laughed and exchanged a few jovial comments. Zare's clothes were marked with the orange stripe, placing him just below the masters themselves. Dara erased the smile from her face. She hid her excitement behind a mask of stone and her deep, calm eyes. She had been waiting. She rose from her position against the wall and walked across the courtyard to meet Zare. Her own attire, marked with the white stripe of a novice glinted in the sunlight. She strode hurridly with her head down, seemingly not watching where she was going. Her shoulder banged heavily into Zare's chest. Dara did not stop. " Hey!" Zare called after her, obviously offended that a novice should have the audacity to bump against him and then not apologize. " You will return this instant and apologize for your actions." "No." The single word rang in Zare's ears. Never since his ascention to the orange stripe had anyone dared disobey him. He was one of the most powerful killers in the entire camp! " How dare you disobey one of higher rank! You will return this moment and..." Dara turned abruptly, her face a grim mask of hatred and contempt. " Zare of the orange, you are a coward!" The man froze, unable to believe what he had just heard from the novice's mouth. By publically declaring him a coward, the girl had asked for a duel to the death. To refuse was to accept what she had said, to become a coward. Still, Zare did not want to kill this girl. It would be too easy. There was no honor in it! " Only my friends and I heard what you said, if you apologize heavily and recieve chastisment from your superiors, we will forget you ever said that." The others nodded in agreement, but Dara was stubborn. She had others to kill. One of the masters, Master Sen appeared at the entrance to the courtyard, along with the rarely seen Master Damu, the best assassin who ever lived. Damu had once taken on private pupils, but had not recently seen any worthy of teaching. The scene interested him. Sen began to aproach, but Damu stopped him. Dara did not know who the men were, only that they were masters. That pleased her. " I declared that Zare of the orange is a coward never meant to live!" She yelled loud enough that the masters could hear her. " You are a fool!" Zare shouted. He tossed his other weapons to his comrades, keeping only the single knife that would be used in the match. Dara drew her blade. She had no other weapons. Damu's eyes sparkled with interest. The combatants circled each other, Zare slashing his blade through the air. Dara remained calm. She had been silently observing Zare during his training. He had a weakness that even the masters did not notice, but Dara did. Zare charged, stabbing violently at her. Dara dodged his blows, not willing to bring her own blade against his. He could best her in physical strength. Therefore, for her plan to work, Dara would have to use evasive tactics and avoid clashing blades with him. His knife nicked her arm, the precious blood dripping from her fingers. " Afraid now?" Zare demanded his voice layered with the rush of adrenaline flooding his veins. " I would be if I were you. You are about to experience a taste of hell!" Dara laughed as he said this, easily dodging another of Zare's blows. Then as Zare lunged at her again, she slid underneath him arms, turning until she was behind him. Before the warrior could twist to face her, Dara slashed his hamstrings with her blade, leaving him unable to walk. The girl leapt back as Zare screamed with rage, swinging his blade wildly. Blood spouted from his wounds, splattering Dara's clothes. Zare tried to stand, then fell to his knees. His face was pale. The life was draining from his ruined body. Dara circled Zare until she stood facing him, just out of his arm's reach. " I have been in the midst of hell," she said calmly, knowing that the battle was won," and it was nothing like this." Zare yelled and attempted to attack her again, but he was too weak. Dara effortlessly side-stepped his lunge. She flicked that hand holding her knife carelessly, relieving Zare of his right hand. The useless appendage fell to the ground, still clutching the knife it had held. The man howled in pain, blood shooting from the stump that was his arm. Dara's mask never shifted. She held the blade of her knife in her hand. She sighed and closed her eyes. The blade blossomed in Zare's throat. He choked, coughing up blood, until death finally took him. Only then did Dara allow herself a small smile. Master Damu was smiling too. He had just found his next pupil.

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I did decide to write more to the previous story. It goes back to the time between the fire and the criminals' murder, when Dara was in training. Please disregard any misspelling, punctuation, or grammatical errors. I typed this rather fast and I don't type very well. Any advice will be appreciated. I am liable to change parts of the story every so often since this is only the first time I've written it. ^_^

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Saturday, March 25, 2006

The Price of Blood and Fire

Fire was everywhere. My sister threw herself in front of me in a feeble attempt to shield me from the raging flames. I watched, terrified, as the fire closed around us. The crackling of burning wood roared in my ears. Smoke filled my lungs The orange light cast eerie shadows on her ebony hair. I searched her eyes for some sign of fear, but there was none. The brownish-golden spheres I knew so well possessed a foreign light and behind it was calm. " Do you want to live, baby brother?" she asked me with startling coolness. I nodded. She smiled, but the expression lacked her usual spark. " Then we shall not die here!" She lifted my trembling form. Her eyes, trained to search for escape, scanned the flames for a weak spot. She found it. Holding my head close to her chest, my sister charged into the tangle of flame. I heard her scream as the fire seared her flesh, but she refused to slow. Tears flooded my eyes. A wall of flame rose before us. It was a dead end. My sister never stopped running. Bracing herself, she smashed her shoulder against the weakened wall. We fell through the mass of charred wood, my sister landing hard on her back. Then, the flaming house collapsed, sealing our dead parents in a fiery tomb. A slight, smokey breeze stirred the grass. Dara moaned in pain. From where I lay, I could see the seriousness of her burns. I struggled, but she refused to release me. Gathering my body into her arms again, my sister rose from the earth. " You're hurt," I stammered. " We need rest." " If I stop, then I will die." More tears formed in my eyes. Even at my young age, I could see that my sister suffered from unimaginable pain, physical and emotional. Those unpenatratable eyes that had seen nine years more than mine stared into the distance. No tears were shed from her eyes. A calm, more frightening to me than my own fear, resided in her pupils. She hefted my body and staggered into the road. I remember little of the long walk from our burning home to the house of our cousins. I sobbed and cried every time I heard Dara moan or saw the bloody trail she was leaving. The tears that fell from my eyes were not for myself. They were for my sister, my dying sister. Then, the rain poured from the sky. The storm came from far away, soaking the earth and erasing the path of blood. Dara's hair was plastered to her face, caked with blood and grime. She did her best to keep the moisture from my skin, but it came through her jacket. Soon I was as wet as she. After an eternity, we halted in the forest just outside our cousin's house. My sister gently placed my feet on the ground. She squatted so that her eyes were level with mine. " I cannot continue," she whispered, placing her hand on my cheek. " No, Dara," I gasped. " We are so close. You cannot leave me!" I saw a brief flash of pain enter her eyes. " I'm all right, brother. I'm not going to die." " Then why won't you come with me?" I demanded. " It's complicated, Jonny," she sighed. " Listen closly. I need you to tell Cousin Joe that I died with mom and dad in the fire." " You're going to leave me!" I declared, my form trembling from the cold rain. My sister took my hands in hers. " I promise, upon... this stone," she said, handing me a smooth, gray rock," that I will see you again. Do you believe me?" I nodded weakly. " Then, go, and be well, my brother." Clutching the stone in one hand and wiping tears away with the other, I tore through the trees toward the warm, brick house. I never looked back, but I thought I heard my sister crying. It could have been the storm, though. Fifteen years later... I rapped the pen against my coffee cup. Today was Monday. I hated Mondays. So, of course, the day had started with the terrible recurring nightmare about a burning house and a trail of blood. I shook my head, trying to rid my memory of that awful scene. I rubbed my police badge nevously. The dreams had been happening more often. Something was about to happen. Sarah, my partner, burst through the doors to the station. Water dripped from her short, yellow hair. Rain had been plagueing the city for several days. Therein lay another piece of that memory. Rain washed away the blood... " Jon, " she panted, " we've found them." " Who?" I asked, sipping my coffee. " Aw, come on! Don't tell me you don't know who." " I really I have no idea what you're talking about." " Fifteen years ago, a house on West Street was burned, suspected arson. A man and a woman were murdered. Their daughter died in the fire. None of their remains were ever recovered. Only the boy survived." No, I thought to myself, I was not the only survivor of that incident. Although it was highly probable that my sister was dead anyway. " The men who set fire to the house have been found," she continued excitedly. " All you have to do is identify them as the ones you saw. I've got their pictures." Sarah tossed the yellow packet on my cluttered desk. The surrounded officers could only stare and whisper as my trembling fingers pried open the envelope. I gazed at the color photographs with a blank expression. The faces of my tormenters stared at me with arrogant eyes. I tore my gaze away from the images to Sarah's face. She knew what I was about to say. Anger flared in my soul. " Where are they?" I demanded, the anger of fifteen years filling my voice. " They are the ones?" " Yes." " The Chief didn't want you to come to the arrest, but I think you need to," Sarah admitted after a brief silence. I nodded. She was a good partner. " Right, let's go." The drive to the run-down apartment complex was the longest drive of my life. I had to stay in control, but the overwhelming desire for revenge would not be quieted. It had been silenced for too long. I fidled with the sacred stone my dear sister had sworn upon. I had kept it on a chain since the incident. We entered the building and found the criminal's location without any trouble. Sarah and I ascended set upon set of broken staircases. We knocked on door number 26. " Open up, Police Department!" Sarah demanded. There was no sound from inside. The stillness shook my soul. " Open the door!" she tried again. Still, there was no answer. " Move," I commanded gruffly. Sarah stared at me, then silently lowered her head and moved. I kicked open the door. The stench of death overwhelmed us immediately, even before we gazed into the horror the room contained. Sarah and I lunged into the apartment, ready for trouble. There was not any. Chairs and tables had been smashed, but if the men had attempted to use these to defend themeslves, it had failed. The three men lay sprawled on the floor, each with a gunshot wound to the head. Deep pools of blood stained the ancient carpet. The sinner's sightless eyes stared eternally in shock and confusion. My parent's glazed eyes. Blood on the floor. My sister, holding my lifeless mother in her arms. Flames. Rain and blood. I buried my face in my hands, hoping to block out the painful images. This was unexpected. My partner was forced to turn her head. Then, she glimpsed the evidence that would burn my heart more than the fifteen year old fire had burned my home. " Look, there!" she pointed. " A security camera. The lens has been shot, but the tape might still be intact." She climbed on the broken remains of a table and gently removed the tape. I snatched it from her. " We have to wait for the Chief!" she declared. " He'll all ready be mad that I let you come. We can't do this!" What she said made sense, but I was beyond caring. There was something strange about this. The table seemed to have been placed there for the sole purpose of removing that tape and the lens had been shot so that the camera would stop recording, but the tape would be preserved. I turned, only to discover something more disturbing. Amidst the chaos, a single thing remained untouched. The television had not been harmed, although the furniture around it had been destroyed. Someone wanted us to see this video. I slid the tape into the VCR with cold fingers, turned on the TV, and pressed PLAY. A frame of the room appeared. I watched several minutes of the criminals strutting around their apartment, then the door opened abruptly. Three shots were fired. The men did not have time to react. They were dead before they realized it. Sarah looked over my shoulder. A figure stepped through the doorway. It was a woman dressed in the tight fitting black clothes like the secret agents from movies. The cloth hugged every perfectly formed muscle. She was beyond fit. Short, spiky, hair, dyed blue, concealed her true hair color. Three gold ear rings adorned her ears. Dark shades hid her eyes. A maze of scars crisscrossed her uncovered face. Most of them were burns. Around her belt, an assortment of weapons hung. She still held the smoking silencer in her hand. She had come prepared to kill. The woman was an assassin. The shades turned and stared into the camera lens. The woman pointed the gun toward the recording machinery and laughed. Sweat beaded on my forhead. " I kept my promise, brother. The one I made upon the stone, remember? Here I am. I told you you would see me again." A cold chill ran up my spine as the woman removed the sunglasses. Calm, golden eyes gazed at me and winked. Then, the assassin shot the camera. I gulped. Those were my sister's eyes.

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   HI

This is my first post on here. I'll have a story to put on here in a bit, but right now i'm working on getting the site put together. ttyl

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