Heading For Violence
An older fic of mine that I discontinued but I'm going to post it to see what kind of feedback I get. One cannot grow without knowing where they are lacking. It's a fantasy so if you don't like fantasy, read it anyway 'cuz it's good.
The Enemy Within
Wandering in an endless maze,
A soldier without a cause,
Everything in his blazing path razed,
Swallowed by the gaping maw,
Of the darkness in his heart.
Torn by love,
Wearied by work,
Born to the skies,
Gone to where the shadows lurk.
Shattered in soul,
Solid in shield,
Twisted by the sword,
He is destined to wield,
And by the darkness in his heart.
He cannot push on,
All is wrong,
The road is long,
But he’ll take to it strong,
If he could only just part,
With the shadow in his heart.
Then he could be free,
From his endless misery,
And the darkness in his heart.
Chapter 1 Faces in the Gloom
Aeson slept fitfully, tossing and turning in his feather bed, his body drenched in icy sweat. A roll of thunder then a bolt of lightening… The storm grew stronger, the rain pounding the window with raging fists, the wind howling in anger.
Another flash lit the room.
Sitting bolt upright, Aeson glanced around frantically. Trying to steady his breathing, he ran a hand through his ruffled brown hair and lay back on his pillow, heaving a long sigh.
Another bolt struck and Aesons’ heart stopped dead.
A dark figure was illuminated for a second before the light was gone. Not daring to move, Aeson starred transfixed at the spot, unable to see through the dark. He slid his hand under his pillow and clutched his knife.
One more bolt of lightening struck.
The figure was gone. In the blink of an eye it disappeared. He must have dreamt is, only a trick of his racing mind. Breathing a heavy sigh, Aeson relaxed slightly and began to slide back onto his bed.
Lightning struck again.
The shadow towered over him, two hellish red eyes glaring down at him from the darkness and a rotted stink washing over him with the creatures’ heavy breathing.
None of it could be real; this demon pulled from myths was standing next to his bed!
The demon extended a deadened, rotted hand and grasped him by the neck. Aeson was hauled out of bed and at the mercy of a monster! Gripped by neither fear nor panic, a helpless sorrow swept over him, realizing he was to die and had no chance of escape.
A crash sounded as thunder struck again.
Aeson shot up with a start, smashing his head on the bunk over him! He rubbed the painful bump on his forehead, glancing around the dark stone room at the other beds and out the window to the storm.
Someone stirred above him and two yellow eyes peered at him through the gloom, a curtain of stringy black hair falling all around the pale face.
“What you doin’ down there?” came the gruff, groggy voice of Jarak Argentum.
“Nothing, just had a bad dream,” he replied, staring warily at the corner in which the figure had appeared. Jarak followed his gaze and looked back at him.
“You alright mate?” he asked again, shaking the long wiry hair out of his eyes.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a dream,” he said unconvincingly. Was it really just a dream though? It had seemed so real, he thought. Jarak continued to stare searchingly into his blue eyes.
”Come on, let’s go for a walk.” Jarak slid off the top bunk and pulled a pair ragged pants on.
They walked through the dark fortress towards the upper towers, the burning torches providing the only light through the silent stone corridors. All the way, Aeson could not shake the feeling they were being followed and once in awhile he glanced over his shoulder to see a dark, empty passage behind him. Aeson had been at the barracks for only a year and he was already restless, feeling trapped by the walls of a military life.
“How long has it been, Jarak?” He stared stonily ahead as they ascended a spiraling staircase.
“How long has what been?” he asked.
“Since we’ve been in this accursed place?”
They both nodded silent agreement. Pushing open the wooden door at the top, they stepped out into the storm. They stood up on the highest tower of the citadel; from here you could see the whole countryside, all the way to the mountains to the North. Shaded from the rain by a shingled roof, they leaned against the wall, gazing off into the storm, ominous clouds stretching for miles, illuminated occasionally by a fork of lightning. The sky was slowly turning to a cobalt blue as the first signs of pale morning appeared.
They stood in silence for awhile, lost for words but not trying to find them at all. Something suddenly stirred in Aeson. A feeling that he could step off the tower into the clouds swept over him. Dazzling white stars flew past him as he soared through the heavens, a sea of white fluffy clouds below him, and an endless stretch of starry space above him. He seemed bound by nothing, free to explore every inch of existence; a limitless universe lay out before him and begged to be discovered.
He snapped back to reality to find he actually had a leg on the low battlement. The stars faded and the dreary blue morning was all that was left. His heart sank as he realized it was no more than a dream. Sighing, he turned solemnly to Jarak and looked him dead in the eye.
”Are you sure you are alright?” he asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Aeson shook his head and without warning, the urge overpowered him. He turned and with a mighty heave, threw himself off the tower into the night!
The wind howled louder than ever, rain whipping him in the face as he fell faster and faster towards earth. The parade ground was rising rapidly to meet him, but he did not care. And yet somehow, feet from the cold hard ground, he soared back up, pulling out of the dive, he skimmed the grass with no more than a toe and he was rising back up into the air, rain plastering his hair to his head, adrenaline rushing through his veins and the wind whipping him in the face. He had never felt so alive, so at home, so free.
Aeson woke for the third time that night, banging his head with a loud thunk against Jaraks’ bed. Again, the yellow, catlike eyes peered at him, asked him how he was and retreated up to their owners’ bed.
What does this mean? Why do I keep having these dreams? A wave of desperation swept over the young man as he searched for the answers, always coming up with nothing. He felt empty, void of happiness or purpose.
His whole life had led up to and would seemingly end in the military academy. He tried to be perfect but nothing was worth it, everything was a waste, the drilling, the marching, the sparring, and the living. He felt empty, so empty he thought of leaving, desertion, of finding a new life where he could do as he pleased. But desertion meant death and he had nothing else. He could not return home after dishonoring his family, he had no other skill, no other means of surviving. He was a warrior and a blacksmith, but nothing more. His soul was crying to leave; his very being despised his miserable existence.
But, what could happen? Being an outlaw, it couldn’t be that bad. He would be free at least, free to do what he pleased when he pleased. No! It’s wrong! You made a commitment, you will honor that commitment. Are you not a descendant of the Amono line? You are the youngest of a family that holds honor in the highest esteem.
To hell with the family!
What have they ever done for me but make me slave and give me nothing in return? They gave you a home! They raised you! Maybe, but I could have found a home on my own, I didn’t need them to raise me, they never even loved me! Of course they did. Father only ever cared about me getting into the military like him and mother only ever liked my older brother. They are still your family and you owe them, your brother at least. Kaiden, yes well he’s the only one who’s ever given a damn about me. Your mother did and you know that your father cared about you, protected you. That isn’t all father did. He was drunk, he didn’t… That doesn’t change the fact that he did! I don’t owe anything to him but. I will at least try to find Kaiden.
Aeson fell again into a troubled sleep, formulating a plan in his mind, dreaming all the while of freedom.
Re: Heading For Violence
damn you're right, that was good
as to my advice, I'd toy with the last lines of the 3rd and 4th stanza, probably the one in the 3rd because they aren't quite the same but they are a little too similar, if they were both exactly the same line, I'd leave them. as to the story, it was AWESOME but uh....what happened to the knife he was holding underneath his pillow? putting aside what I've said, the poem was great and the story was unbelievably good in my opinion:thumb:
Re: Heading For Violence
This is the 1 of the best Poems I've hearded in a long time I hope to read more in the Future.:)
Re: Heading For Violence
*follows sora-san into thread*
0_0 ... @_@
words... too many..of them.....
it's cool! keep it up! I'll be following ya!
*clings onto sora-san like a dumb sheep* ^^