- This story is part of a collaborative project with additional talented writers. The previous chapters can be found here: https://theprose.com/post/438830/tag-list-and-schedule
All of the sights of Little Dafford had left Brian in awe, but nothing like the training grounds of the warrior army. Once he stepped through the iron gate that Coban opened, he observed sparring matches of a good hundred warriors, all armored with protection that was on par with the iron walls that surrounded the vast dirt grounds. Brian had not seen much combat in his life besides a few fist fights in his school days, but instead of being overwhelmed by the mighty men and women battling around him, he felt more determined than ever to join their ranks.
The pair finally reached a large roundhouse, and Brian followed Coban in. A tall, lanky man sat up on a cot and smiled at Coban.
"Lad! I thought I gave thee the day off? Or do ye have a recruit for me?"
"He requested an audience with you." Coban groaned. "My brother dumped him on me, and insisted I answer his questions. The bloke wouldn't drop the prospect of being trained to fight as a warrior. Can you deal with him? My apologies Master Ravok."
"Nonsense son, the more the merrier!" Ravok chuckled. "Leave 'em ere, and I'll size up his potential."
Coban bowed down, then ran out as quick as he could. Ravok arose from the cot, and walked to the corner of the room where the cries "Sword Up!" were coming out of a crystal that flashed various bright colors. Ravok put his hand on the crystal, and it reverted to a bright white before going silent.
"Sorry, figured better turn off thee game so I could hear ye out." Ravok said warmly as he approached Brian.
"That was a game?" Brian asked. "I assumed that was a battle!"
"Nah, just an old game where two teams are trying to get thee other's king. The crystal there taps into locations where games get played, and I listen to 'em to relax."
"So, like a radio broadcast?"
"Never heard of a radio, that some kind of magic from ye village?"
"Yeah, some kind of magic." Brian replied.
This is really the leader? He seems too laid back compared to everyone outside.
"Anyway, you're the leader of the warriors? Pardon me if I sound a bit rude, but you seem a bit different from the others out there."
Ravok looked at Brian incredulously before letting out a great belly laugh.
"Don't believe in me skills eh? Alright then, take me on if ye think ye can!"
"Hold on, I have no training! Forgive me, I didn't mean to upset-"
"Upset? Hardly! I've seen much on the battlefield far more upsetting. I have nothing to prove, just want to see what ye may bring to the army. Here, let me give ye something to help."
Ravok stomped his foot, and a hole opened up in the floor. A shelf emerged from the opening in front of Brian. The shelf was decked with various armor, helmets, shields, and weapons.
"Go on, feel free to borrow from me armory." Ravok said cheerfully. "Everything here is imbued with magic, and will enhance ye abilities."
Brian donned a matching steel helmet, chest plate, and a long sword. Ravok wasn't bluffing, as Brian now felt like he could take on ten armies thanks to the magic from the gear. He turned to Ravok, who then carried over a handful of white powder, which he then proceeded to spread around Brian.
"Before ye face me, let's see how ye fare in a farce battle."
"Farce battle?" Brian questioned.
"The substance around ye will simulate a battleground, and a foe of ye choice." Ravok explained as the powder evaporated into a fog that surrounded Brian. "Ye thoughts will be read, and the battle ye envision will appear. Don't worry, tis merely an illusion, but a fine way to measure fighting skills."
Brian was surrounded by darkness, and one of the fiends that had previously tortured him stood before him, wearing his wife's face and smirking.
"After I play with you, I'm gonna gut you and deliver your insides to your lady." The monster laughed cruelly.
"Not this time!" Brian screamed, charging at the beast. He felt amazing as he lunged, not only feeling faster and stronger, but fully aware of how to use the sword he held, even without proper training. Magic truly is an amazing thing.
"Awwwww, so the hapless fool thinks he can take me now, huh?" The monster mocked as Brian drew closer. "No matter what enhancements you hold, you are noth-"
Brian sliced the monster's head off, apologizing to Sarah under his breath. He continued slashing the headless fiend until a bloody pile of gore was all that remained. The darkness cleared and the creature remains then vanished. Brian then found himself looking at a grinning Ravok a few feet ahead.
"The gear ye chose approved of ye, well done indeed! Now come at me lad, and face a real opponent!"
"Aren't you going to equip yourself?" Brian asked.
"No need, I am protected enough." Ravok smiled. "Ye have shown me what ye can do, now give me ye best!"
Brian was worried that he could truly maim Ravok with the power he held from his armor and sword, but he assumed that Ravok wouldn't agree to this without some kind of enhancements of his own, even if he was only wearing a simple leather shirt and trousers. He felt the same level of skill that he had felt during the mock battle a moment ago as he charged at Ravok.
"Impressive approach, now use thee sword lad!" Ravok said as he stood his ground, even without a weapon of his own at his disposal.
Brian swung the sword involuntarily as instructed. Ravok smiled as he ducked under the strike. He then lunged at Brian and tripped him, knocking him to the ground. Ravok caught the sword that slipped from his opponent's grasp, and pointed it at his neck.
"This gear is incredible, and made me feel incredible." Brian said with awe, as Ravok lowered the sword and helped him up. "But I still had no chance against you. Please tell me, was there a special magic that you used just now?"
"Nay lad, just me own personal strength from training, along with the blessing of the great Lyrane!"
"Lyrane? Who's that?"
"Our God of strength and courage of course! Me and all the warriors in our army possess Lyrane's blessing. As long as we keep his favor, we triumph in any battle, even without magic!"
Brian stood in awe once more, remembering Olban's revelation of the gods of his world earlier. So Lyrane is one of them....
"Please Ravok, train me and allow me to join your forces." Brian pleaded softly, bowing down before Ravok. "I wish to tear apart the monstrous bastards that tortured me. I am getting up there in age, but I wish to have one more adventure, and if you teach me and help me seek Lyrane's blessing, I know I could be worthwhile to you and your army."
"Stand up lad, don't bow to me!" Ravok said sharply, his smile fading. "The only one worthy of thee worship is Lyrane, and his brethren!"
"Of course, I apologize." Brian said as he stood up meekly. "Please, will you help me?"
Ravok gave Brian a kind smile but shook his head.
"I'm sorry lad, but I cannot."
"But why?" Brian asked in a dejected tone.
"Forgive me bluntness, but training ye would be a waste. Ye showed great skill with the enhanced armory, but that is all ye currently have. Tis true I could strengthen ye, but without the blessing of Lyrane, it wouldn't be enough."
"Is that it?" Brian replied with slight annoyance. "You don't think Lyrane will bless me?"
"Nay lad." Ravok answered solemnly. "Lyrane would smite ye on thee spot."
"He would? Why?"
Ravok pointed to Brian's chest and gave him a woeful look.
"Ye heart. Tis full of rage and self-fulfillment when it comes to ye desire to fight. Lyrane would never approve."
Leather
One old book, leather-bound, occupying my plane seat.
Nothing else to do.
"On a Pale Horse", a title new to me. Enthralling me, I give my attention to the pale horse as opposed to my plain of existence. Sighing, relaxing, educating, not... connecting.
"How could I not be connecting? What is this disconnect?" I state, loud enough for the wonderful human being next to me to indulge my conversational plea through socially-enforced politeness. Once heard, one must indulge. I spoke loud enough to be heard.
I did not see the full disconnect until after I had announced my presence. My soul's windows burned at the strange sight before me. As if I were in a flying car and not an airplane, advertisements, lights, glitz, glamour - above an infinite, unending inferno of white noise and flame.
[REPORT]
"On a Pale Horse?"
[REPORT]
"I do dearly apologize, God, I haven't finished the book. Or I did, but the information is kept from me, even in my own mind."
[REPORT]
I see now I have many disconnects. The advertisements all flashed the word 'BACK', as if I had working knowledge of how to pilot.
[REPORT]
Have I been reported? Did my plane fail? Am I to be damned to Hell, on the basis of my homosexuality? I wondered as my brain struggled to piece the various simplistic pieces of data together in a way I could even begin to conceptualize.
[REPORT]
Oh - I was, I am a reporter. I used to be a grocery store clerk. Was that my life? Why am I disconnected? The advertisements seemed to be able to sense my emotional State, and adjusted accordingly. Needles, needles, needles, and needles. Slurs, of all sorts. Lights, coming from the fire, heading up to the bright light formed above my view. How did I know it was there?
[REPORT]
"God, I don't get it. Please." Tears of exasperation stung my dry eyes.
[REPORT]
"Please - I will finish the-" My hands reaching for the book, an invisible sensibility stops the move.
[REPORT]
"Please-" The wetness on my face begins to steam.
[REPORT HEAVEN]
"What? I report to Heaven? Now?" The stream of tears reflect my stream of consciousness.
[REPORT]
"I'm in Hell, I am a homosexual with transsexual tendencies."
[REPORT ERROR]
"Please, God. Or Satan."
[REPORT ACCURACY ENSURED]
As if it never happened, I'm in the safe, cool, air-conditioned cabin of a Boeing airplane. The wonderful woman sits next to me. I cannot help my eyes drifting to her chest, where a book is pressed against, heaving. The tears are still fresh on my face, though the red of exhaustion and embarrassment have fully left.
It's Stone Butch Blues. I went to Hell and saw my siblings making it to Heaven, on my goodwill, on my ignorant innocence. Her face is wet with tears, and I know which section of heartbreak she has arrived at. Was she with me? She turns to me and asks,
"I've never seen a woman look like you. In my mind, I look like you. Do we go to Hell for this?"
"No. All lesbians go to Heaven, just like everyone else. I swear on my eternal life."
They advertised my own truth to me. There will never be any sense in advertising a person's life as if another can own it.
[REPORT SUCCESSFUL]
A Dragon’s Contentment
(From the barely-heard song of a Dragon whose name we do not know, but whose mind can be felt from very far away)
I live under a mountain, like a dragon from a book
But that’s not the kind of dragon that I am.
I am the kind of dragon that’s been eating little mammals
Since long before your species began.
I am the kind of dragon never featured in your dreams
(if you remembered me, you’d never from your dreams Escape.)
Because your world’s a tiny one, made of fragile things
And stuck together with bits of plastic tape.
I am the kind of dragon who lives under your Seas,
deeper than anywhere you can find.
I am the kind of dragon who will someday eat your moon.
Think hard about me, and I will eat your mind.
I am the kind of dragon that’s the lizard in your brain,
Setting off the deep instinct to run.
Stretched out in full,
I’m a dragon who is bigger than your world.
Be grateful I’m content with the Moon
And do not
(currently)
plan to eat your Sun.
Highway to Hell
"Please fasten your seatbelts like so and read the safety information brochure in your seat back pocket."
I scowled as the airplane staff went over the safety information.
I pulled the brochure out of the seat back pocket and something else tumbled out of it too.
It was a disgusting old copy of On a Pale Horse.
I threw it behind me and ignored the screams of a young woman behind me as the book lodged itself in her eyeball.
Then I took a huge bite out of the safety packet and decided that I was done with safety.
I kicked open the window and hurled myself out of it, I grew wings and floated through Hell which wasn't really surprising.
Sure it would have been fun to shove people off of the stairs to Heaven and watched their faces as they fell to the bottom and had to climb back up again, but that required too much effort on my part.
I took the highway, which was actually a plane take-off runway.
Hell Gone Corporate
Sure, the book happened to be in my seat. I found the book, but I didn't find it. It was placed on the plane meticulously. It was part of my fate. As the book explains, we all have a fate. Mine is to visit the realm of the living to see what kind of horror humans are making on their own. I then take that information to Hell's main office, so they can make ‘improvements’ to the punishments and general awfulness of the place. Hell still finds a way to be less bad than living for me. No wars or discrimination, everyone is treated like shit. Even the billboards they added recently aren't as unhinged as some on the sides of freeways or toll roads. It's incredible humans aren't the Demons, and Earth isn't Hell. Sorry, I didn't mention what the book is called, did I? It's a leatherbound copy of On a Pale Horse. Thing is, what I see in Hell isn't what anyone else sees. Everyone sees what has been determined to be the correct level of bad for them. I have to continue returning to Earth because it's my own personal hell. That's also why Hell looks very corporate to me. Its appearance has changed over my existence here. I've been part of Hell so long, it once looked like polluted Victorian England during the height of the industrial revolution. It has evolved to match whatever the most heinous human setting is at current ever since. I don't remember my human life anymore, yet it haunts me. Next time I get on the plane, I won't touch the book. Funny how the others in Hell think anything can scar me more than They Live. Especially now that I know you could switch aliens for Demons and the premise wouldn't be too far off. The flaw being that a mistake such as allowing humans to get their hands on the special glasses would never happen. Or would it? I don’t know how much of a difference it would make anyway. If anything the Demons in disguise are more sane than the actual people anyway.
Under The Nether Bed
Stoned out of their minds on Hobbit blood,
Snorting Dwarven gold,
Dragons getting the munchies,
Eyes bugged-out and rolled
From side to side in lizard slide
Stark with spark in threatening arc;
Wiggy as wizards and twisted as twine,
Penumbral beasts grown bored of myth
Beyond the barrier line.
What alchemy could burn a blood
That lives to father fire?
What herb or weed could fry a mind
That swallows souls entire?
Heat and steam and Autumn gleam
Stoked and smoked, by blood invoked
Ticklish and tipsy and sordid and strange
Dwelling two inches inside your left ear
Beyond touch of time or change.
–And slapped by reality’s cosmic broom..!
“Shoo! Shoo! You nasty things!”
Alien eyes glow crazed in darkness
Closet walls chafe green-scaled wings
Spaceless room and breathless tomb
Hid by lid and trap and id—
wished away by generations,
confidently thought destroyed,
they’ve found a hole
and they’re
...annoyed.
First
Crocus is the Bertha
of flowers...
by the harsh
cold nomification
and hard edge
pronunciation,
that emphasizes
labor over beauty,
breadth of sentiment
in personification
and the notion
that Rose
is also
a difficult name
to say in duration
however
germane...
it doesn't either
roll sprightly
as its scent might
from soft velvet petals
on thorned stem
in heat of summer...
The small and mighty
dust of the lowly
bloomed Crocus,
pale and lilaceous
over the crusted
evaporating snow,
weighing in
with 24 karats
dust of saffron,
most precious
gold flavored
Spring...
and I plant this
strange light bulb
into the topsoil
with great hope,
and hoarse voice
to signal
for me
the end
of winter
04.19.2024
...a favorite flower... challenge @Last
Signs
I was vibrating as the airbus catapulted through the heavy, steel grey cloud cover. A forecast of stormy weather embraced the plane as it gained altitude. Overhead bins rattled in unison. I clutched the aged, leather-bound novel a bit tighter as if that would steady me through the yoyo turbulence. The book was a mystery – On a Pale Horse – not your everyday fun, vacation read. It was tucked in the navy, mesh seat pocket, forgotten, separated from its owner. I knew the representation of the Pale Horse in the Book of Revelation. Out of curiosity I started reading it during the take-off delay.
That lead blanket feeling of takeoff lifted. We must have reached the cruising level. I was engrossed in the book but became aware of the eerie quiet. My overhead light flickered. It cast a halo over me. A flash out the window drew my attention. “What the Hell?” I gasped. An illuminated billboard sat on a cloudy patch of nothingness.
I focused on the words: “You’ll flunk out of college. You’re not disciplined enough or smart enough.” The book dropped with a soft thud. Another board appeared. “Matt is going to leave you for that overachieving redhead he works with.” I blinked rapidly. I didn’t want to look out the window again but couldn’t stop myself. “Friends? Ha. Didn’t you see the Insta post of them at dinner without you?” Why? Where did these come from? “Your dad is terminal. Not much time left. Why haven’t you visited?” A tear slid down my cheek. A heavy sadness weighed me down. I tried to unpack what I read and the bizarreness of it.
I reached down and retrieved the fallen book. I closed my eyes pinching the tension that was forming on the bridge of my nose. The novel must have stirred up my insecurities. “More like a personal hell” I muttered. I snapped the cover shut and put it back in the pocket holder. The airplanes’ overhead lights flicked on. The volume of conversations increased around me. The flight attendant’s landing instructions played over the intercom system. Plane life resumed.
Upon landing, I exited the plane as fast as possible. I wanted to put that ride behind me. Matt was picking me up and we were meeting some of his work friends for drinks. I have a final paper due but can pull an all-night work session or do it tomorrow. I need to unwind; I need a drink. I have too much stress in my life. That’s the only explanation for the mid-sky “this is your life” advertisement. I inserted my earbuds and hit my playlist. I froze mid-step and looked down at my phone. This is NOT on my list. ACDC’s “Highway to Hell” filled my head.
April 2024, K. Nave
...By Any Other Name
Like all pretty things, she came into this world armed.
Many desire to touch her beauty, going so far as to snip any defense from her to fit their aesthetic.
The cruelty of it all, is their greed only serves to destroy the very thing they seek.
She is believed to be weak, for she truly only lasts a week.
How could any last when stolen from their life source?
A symbol of love, but who would finally love her, leaving her rooted?