Random Writing Scene: Fear of the Unknown

Xenophobia – Fear of the unknown… because it means a loss of control – the inability to make the correct decision that will lead to the most desired outcome. There is nothing worse (for me) than not knowing. I have to keep myself in a state of constant awareness of the moment – so that thinking about tomorrow is a figment of my imagination – a chore that I lack the time to attend to.

I woke this morning and put my feet on the floor, my to-do list running through my mind like a pair of comfortable slippers. Ahhhh – busy. That is what I must stay to keep those pesky brain cells from racing into tomorrow and finding that maybe it doesn’t exist, maybe today is all I have.

I rush through my day and even in the briefest moments of relaxation, my mind is aware of its chore of thinking endlessly. I remain concentrated on things that don’t matter and have no eternal impact, but they keep me unaware of the unknown.

As I make my way home there is a noise behind me. A rustle of paper and the sound of grating metal fills  the air. I laugh. I do not fear that which I should, but that which I shouldn’t, so in this moment, maybe death is welcomed at the hands of a mad-man, for he is moments from being known by my psyche. I turn to greet him and he stands before me, blood dripping from his knife like fingers, a deep scowl on his scared, dirty face. He licks one of the blades and shutters.

I remain still, calm, unafraid. A smile plays on my lips and concern flitters across his brow.

I exhale, because I am comforted by what will happen next. I don’t want to die, but tis better to leave in a fashion that I am aware of, than being caught off guard by my greatest fear. He shakes his head in disapproval of my stance and waves his hands, the knives grating against each other. I blink and he’s gone.

I look around and there are walls everywhere, thick walls made of vine and grass. I reach to touch one. It is firm and welcoming beneath my fingers, but my heart begins to race. I look behind me and in front of me and all I see are walls, curving this way and that, no solid pattern, no map of their designed course.

A maze.

I began to run as my heart speeds up, my mind racing as well. What’s around the next corner? Which way do I turn?

It is my greatest fear come to life and I am losing the capacity to formula cognizant thought. I blink hard several times, trying to clear my mind. I stop and bend over, gasping for air – for life. I look behind me and the maze has shifted, ever-changing and turning. My heart flutters and I drop to my knees, grasping my chest. No. No, no, no, no….

Every turn and every step along this path whispers its promise of my failure. But I shall fail because I didn’t have the ability to see the plan, to plot out the course, because it is ever changing and I am walking through the valley of all that is unknown.

My eyes close and my mind grips my veins and the blood flow stops. I slump over as blood drips from my nose onto the pretty, green grass. This is the end – the unknown has conquered me and alas I lay down my sword and bow to its might.

I jerk up in bed, the nightmare still racing through my mind and I am comforted and horrified all in the same moment. I stand and breathe deeply, hoping to get air into my compressed lungs. I walk to the bedroom door and open it. No.

I look around me and there are walls everywhere…

L.

Random Scene Writing: Fantasy Piece with a Buddy

The endless recreation of life had become a means of ebb and flow for those involved, their ways becoming less than synchronized, the methods sloppy, lazy, dilapidated. In their error, a few began to slip through the strands of time with echoes of a life lived, memories staining the newness of their existence. She’d become so very good at leaving clues in each existence, means to find her way back to him and he would always be there – waiting. It was an atrocity against the staunchest of rules, a break in the system that could cause the devolution of their way of life and yet for the treasure she held deep in her bosom, nothing was too much.

“You do know that he’s looking for the book…” his voice was soft and entirely too close to her as she looked out from the heaven’s, the earth’s majesty but a blur of sky, sea and land. At any moment she could focus and find what she was looking for, who she was seeking, but his presence caused her to feel tense and uncomfortable.

“That is because he does not understand that she will come back to him again. He believes her dead for good this time.” Iana turned and moved around him, his figure towering above her own.

“And tell me what you intend to do about it, Iana.” He reached out and his shadow like fingers raced through her long silver hair, her black eyes staring straight ahead as she moved toward a large glass containment cell in the middle of the room.

She spoke not, but reached out and pressed her palm to the cold icy surface, a beautiful woman inside. She was petite and blonde with shapely arms and legs extended in the air as her body rested in the frozen water of Kamerin. The expression on the young woman’s face was serene, as if life were peaceful and she was resting in its embrace, undetailed by the angst of the human world. And in truth, she was. Though if the beautiful creature understood the occurrences that landed her here, what the future held and even more so, what it didn’t, the serenity would melt and all manner of horrid emotion would paint her scape.

“I’ve already done it. Don’t badger me with questions that hold obvious answers, Seriel. He will not find the book and he will not find her again. I’ve learned my lesson and I’ve paid my penitence for the sins of the past. I want to be done with this and if it means locking him into one of these prisons that I may gaze upon them both and finally procure rest – so be it.” She walked from the room, her strength gone, her heart numb as it had been for so many years.

The sound of her master snickering only fueled her willingness to do anything to bring an end to the cycle. Her body slowly began to melt, like water droplets racing down her beautiful face, faster and faster, heavier and heavier they pulled at her until her appearance was that of the young girls, an exact replica gazing back at her in the looking glass. She wanted to smile wickedly at her own ability, but she had nothing left emotionally to give to this woman – to this man – to the ruination of her life and subsequently, her world.

Locke would recognize her as he always had, but this time, the cycle would be broken.

She had no choice but to play the role given her and bring him into the depth of the darkness in search of the Book of Esaph She would offer him a deal and have him believe that his dead beloved, risen yet again, was going to assist him in finding it, but in the end, finality would have its way with them both. She touched her chest and felt a slight tremor in her soul. The beautiful heart-shaped necklace that he’d given her on the last day they’d held each other in each life was the only token she kept of memories best left dead.

 

L.

Random Scene Writing: Redemption

“Hold on, don’t let go.” He grunted, realizing he was losing his grip. The edge of the building he was hanging off of was more than twenty stories high.

Why did she do this? After all I have done for her? To leave me again.

The rain had begun to pick up and he struggled just to hold himself up, much less maintain his grip on her. But he couldn’t let go, no he wouldn’t let go, never.

“Just let go. You can’t hold onto me forever, Nathaniel.” She smiled. Her face showed no fear, but her eyes told a story of regret.

“No,” he screamed. “No, I won’t let go, I can’t. Just hold on to me and I’ll pull us up.”

His grip slipped again and he cursed under his breath. He flung his head back and screamed to the sky, “Where are you? Help me, if you’ve ever given a damn, help me know.” He knew he was skating on thin ice by flinging such an insult toward heaven’s majesty, but he was running out of options.

I know we are at odds right now, but surely my prayers will be heard. I’ve done so much for you father. Surely you’ll answer, and let me save her this time.

He looked down into her eyes and she smiled again. “Always on your timing Nate, but He never left you. You left him. It’s time for me to go.” She twisted her hand and he screamed again, tightening his grip.

“I can get us both out of this. I can pull us up, there is still a chance; I can save us.” His heart felt as if it might explode.

“You can’t save me or yourself Nate, only He can save. Goodbye, Brother.”

She closed her eyes and jerked back hard.

“No,” Nathaniel screamed as she slipped out of his grip and plummeting twenty-five stories to her death. His heart exploded in his chest and ceased to beat. The grief was overwhelming.

He closed his eyes and tried to pull his own hand away from the ledge, but his fingers wouldn’t obey his command. He wanted to taste death, to meet her head on and feast on her promises.

“Is death so sweet you’d deny me release?” Nathaniel yelled at that the sky. The heavens responded by illuminating its breadth with shards of lightening and a great boom of thunder. Nathaniel closed his eyes to protect them from the radiance of heaven’s response.

“How dare you,” was the last thing Nathaniel heard before the warmth of the lightening penetrated his chest.

Random Scene Writing: Never to be

Never to be mine.

Never to be.

Never.

So close that I could almost feel the heat from his skin and yet he was years away from my grasp.

It was the same as the last time we stood face to face as if not a moment had passed since our last encounter. Realization of the fading chance of redemption through the purest form of human emotion touched his gaze.

Long black eyelashes brushed caramel-colored cheeks as the shaky inhale of finality rushed through the ether and threatened to choke me. With his eyes closed the color of my fantasies lay hidden behind pain laced in regret.

My fingers danced slowly as my arm hung beside me, muscles disobeying the core of my command to reach out and grasp on so tightly in an effort to not lose him again. There would not be another chance to change the past but my pride held me to this very memory, a decision I could not undo no matter how many times I tried to rethink it.

Fate had far exceeded my efforts and failed to be bothered to shift that which had already occurred.

Sandy brown hair rustled in the breeze of early winter, the absence of color surrounding the thickness of our snow boots as his eyes opened and fear stabbed my soul.

We were without choice, without hope, without one another.

I began to speak, hoping to pull a sound from his chest, the timbre of remembrance at the sound of his voice beckoned me to do whatever necessary to hear him again. He slowly shook his head, the wind whispering me into silence as it always did.

I knew what was to come moments before the crimson stain formed in the middle of his white sweater, his strong shoulders slumping slowly as he stared at me expressionless. How many times would my memory force me to witness the death of love?

The hot emotion of my loss welled in the depths of my amber gaze, a tear spilling over to run down an alabaster cheek. A sound I made not until he sunk to his knees, his hands reaching out to catch himself in the snow just before my feet, a soft exhale leaving his beautiful lips.

It was so hard to breath in the midst of the cold, but nothing was more painful than trying to remain alive as he died before me. The moment before all was lost he would look up and let his gaze touch mine as if to remind me that his demise was not mine.

I dreaded the intimacy of that contact and yet my very heart beat in anticipation of a love such as this. The color of life painted the white coldness around us as he sunk lower, his last movement a slight shift to let his chin lift just so. He said nothing and in that silence was every word we’d ever spoken and all of those that we’d not be afforded.

Seemingly upon the light dimming in his eyes the last bit of hope that once resided in me died beside him. Darkness ushered in its offered reprieve and numbness replaced all sense of humanity that resided beneath my breast. I welcomed it today as I did yesterday and the day before.

The onyx blade slipped from numbed fingers and deafening screams of regret filled the ether.

Heaven awaited his return and hell mine.

Never.

Never to be.

Never to be mine.

Random Scene Writing: Always the same…

The air smelled of sulfur, the icy road before me doing nothing to quell my curiosity as velvet colored smoke lifted in the air just beyond my reach. A soft coo of a Nightingale lifted in the wind around me and almost gave me pause.

A warning? A welcome? Just simply a murmur from the small creature…

The wind picked up as the moon stole the audience of the night, it’s iridescent glow giving life to shadows that neither held true form nor remained still for too long. My eyes wondered along their motion, my own dark twin walking close and shivering alongside me.

There had to be a reason for the demented dreams of late that stole my rest and yet thrilled the proposition of possibilities that took more definitive form with each night that passed fulfilled. It was always the same story, the same theme and the same dark figure that I knew was full of danger and yet endless freedom dangled at the edge of my reality as I lay asleep in my bed each night.

What seemed to always change was the setting. At times I was thrown in a frenzy trying to juggle the various effects of the dream that were tossed my way and in that activity I lost my ability to recognize that reality had run from the scene and I was left once again with velvet colored smoke and the soft sounds of midnight life.

He brushed my shoulder as he passed, his steps so very hurried and try as I may, I could move only as someone of languid intent might, my voice finding no depth as a frustrated sigh swept away in the swirling ether just beyond my lips.

A dark suit coat hung over his black slacks, his hair the color of night and his built and demeanor labeling him as important. He noticed me not, or if he did, I was left unaware of it. I tried to reach out toward him, but he was a noticeable distance ahead and the space around me didn’t allow for conscious movement at all.

Frustrated and rather confused I willed my legs to move faster and yet the consorted effort awarded me simply with refusal. He stopped just before reaching a small wooden bridge that spanned the length of the rushing water below and turned to look at me, no… through me.

Sadness filled the confines of my chest as the emotion etched upon his handsome features spoke of loss and despair. He pressed two finger to his lips, kissed them and threw the affection into the night sky as if hoping that someone might catch it and cherish it again. Was that someone me?

I closed my eyes only for a moment, the rushing of a million wings delivered fear to my system and small bumps of chill covered my exposed arms and legs, the man long gone without a trace as I managed to regain sight, my knees giving out before me as I crumbled into the waiting snow.

It was always the same story, the same theme, but tonight, it was a different character. Or was it? I’d never before seen his face and perhaps never would again.