The End of Solitude...
Jan 17, 2006 22:55:43 GMT
Post by barnibusquentin on Jan 17, 2006 22:55:43 GMT
...and the Beginning of Something Sinister
Dusk was always the Old Man’s favorite time of day. Metaphorically speaking it was the death of a small portion of the world’s life and the beginning of another. It was closer, and an ender –a time of peaceful reflection. Night, on the other hand, carried far more sinister connotations. Night was the domain of fear and had been so since the beginning of human civilization. The ancients claimed night was a living, breathing being –a god. And from it were born all the things which humans hate and fear: Death, Misery, Deceits, Tragedy, Discord, Hunger, Pain, and Quarrels; to name a few. It was these things that slowly grew into Barnibus’s mind, as he sat atop the hill side, with the sun sinking low into the sky.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall softly to the grass. A deep sigh left his mouth. The last six months had been hard on him.
It seemed, again, his dreams had abandoned him. The one force which guided his life up until his strange arrival on this planet had become more and more unreliable. First the prophetic dreams lessened in frequency. They became more sporadic, un-intelligible, shot through with images of pain. He had traveled to Volgondia, guided by one brilliant flash of a dream and since then they all but disappeared.
In fact, the last one came not in sleep at all, but in waking. He had a vision of his wife, charred and dead beside him in his younger years. It wasn’t a dream at all, it was a memory, it was a message: ‘Stay away from companionship Old Man,’ it seemed to say, ‘or else Tragedy will again follow.’ “Jaime”, he whispered to the listening trees. It was a name he hadn’t spoken aloud in over three quarters of a century. Barnibus had been married once, though for hardly a year.
He was young then, and headstrong: arrogant even. It was his magic that drew her to him; and it was his magic that killed her. The Old Man cringed at the pain of the memory –the only real tragedy he’d ever suffered- Sisyphus, a bandit came into his town that day. Threatened the lives of his friends and family. Barnibus tried to stop him, but was overcome: his powers were turned against those he loved. His magic scorched much of the town, including his house and his wife with it.
Barnibus sighed again, the death was in the past now. Over. His mind turned to the rest of the day when he had his waking dream. There was a boy, Kain, the Old Man had refused mentorship to the confused and lost boy that day and had not seen him since; for it was clear Kain felt betrayed by Barnibus and this saddened the Wizard immensely.
He shook off the memories and opened his eyes to the night; for a split second the gaping mouth spectre hung against the cloudless sky. It mouthed a word: Sisyphus.
For a second the Old Man struggled with his shifting reality, “I’ve been expecting it, I suppose. But, I don’t see why I should fear, there is no return from death. Not without a Necromancer and there none here, I’m sure of that.”
“No, impossible, scholars have worked for lifetimes; there is no way back from Death.”
“You were ever a liar, Sisyphus, you’re but a powerless ghost come to torment an Old Man.”
The vision shimmered and Barnibus sat up, rubbing his eyes. His back was sore and the moon was just passing its zenith. He placed both fists against the base of his spine and pushed forward letting out a loud cracking. It seemed his dreams had returned, but they did not bode well. Something turned in his stomach with the realization it was a dream…Sisyphus was not lying.
Dusk was always the Old Man’s favorite time of day. Metaphorically speaking it was the death of a small portion of the world’s life and the beginning of another. It was closer, and an ender –a time of peaceful reflection. Night, on the other hand, carried far more sinister connotations. Night was the domain of fear and had been so since the beginning of human civilization. The ancients claimed night was a living, breathing being –a god. And from it were born all the things which humans hate and fear: Death, Misery, Deceits, Tragedy, Discord, Hunger, Pain, and Quarrels; to name a few. It was these things that slowly grew into Barnibus’s mind, as he sat atop the hill side, with the sun sinking low into the sky.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall softly to the grass. A deep sigh left his mouth. The last six months had been hard on him.
A vision flashed through his mind: The sky distorted and the setting sun burned black.
It seemed, again, his dreams had abandoned him. The one force which guided his life up until his strange arrival on this planet had become more and more unreliable. First the prophetic dreams lessened in frequency. They became more sporadic, un-intelligible, shot through with images of pain. He had traveled to Volgondia, guided by one brilliant flash of a dream and since then they all but disappeared.
A skeletal hand, the last bits of flesh dripping
like water, grasped the sun.
like water, grasped the sun.
In fact, the last one came not in sleep at all, but in waking. He had a vision of his wife, charred and dead beside him in his younger years. It wasn’t a dream at all, it was a memory, it was a message: ‘Stay away from companionship Old Man,’ it seemed to say, ‘or else Tragedy will again follow.’ “Jaime”, he whispered to the listening trees. It was a name he hadn’t spoken aloud in over three quarters of a century. Barnibus had been married once, though for hardly a year.
The sun exploded outward slowly enveloping the hand, then the arm…and then the shoulder.
He was young then, and headstrong: arrogant even. It was his magic that drew her to him; and it was his magic that killed her. The Old Man cringed at the pain of the memory –the only real tragedy he’d ever suffered- Sisyphus, a bandit came into his town that day. Threatened the lives of his friends and family. Barnibus tried to stop him, but was overcome: his powers were turned against those he loved. His magic scorched much of the town, including his house and his wife with it.
The rest of the body came into view, as if created by the explosion of the sun. Snakes spilled like vomit from the figure’s gaping mouth.
Barnibus sighed again, the death was in the past now. Over. His mind turned to the rest of the day when he had his waking dream. There was a boy, Kain, the Old Man had refused mentorship to the confused and lost boy that day and had not seen him since; for it was clear Kain felt betrayed by Barnibus and this saddened the Wizard immensely.
He shook off the memories and opened his eyes to the night; for a split second the gaping mouth spectre hung against the cloudless sky. It mouthed a word: Sisyphus.
The snakes began whispering the name as the spewed forth, each burning like acid as it hit the ground. Where each hit, a human, rotting and grotesque rose from the ground; the remains of their faces stared in agony at the Old Man. In the center of this arising army stood the completed figure, now familiar: It was Sisyphus. The Image descended.
"Barnibus, my enemy, have you feared my return?” it asked.
"Barnibus, my enemy, have you feared my return?” it asked.
For a second the Old Man struggled with his shifting reality, “I’ve been expecting it, I suppose. But, I don’t see why I should fear, there is no return from death. Not without a Necromancer and there none here, I’m sure of that.”
“Ahh that may be true. But, you don’t understand the extent of this realm. It is far different from the world you or I called Home. There is no death here, not in our sense, through Eden there is a way back from the Gates, I have but to manifest my power and I can return to life.”
“No, impossible, scholars have worked for lifetimes; there is no way back from Death.”
“Not on Home, but here. Scholars never came here.”
“You were ever a liar, Sisyphus, you’re but a powerless ghost come to torment an Old Man.”
“We shall see, and very soon,”
The vision shimmered and Barnibus sat up, rubbing his eyes. His back was sore and the moon was just passing its zenith. He placed both fists against the base of his spine and pushed forward letting out a loud cracking. It seemed his dreams had returned, but they did not bode well. Something turned in his stomach with the realization it was a dream…Sisyphus was not lying.