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Ten Years Later
It`s ten years later. The rains have come, and she`s long gone.
An aching memory, sighing in the corner of some dusty, unvisited
room in his head. The door is unlocked, but he passes it by, time
and again, refusing to to open it and look inside. He fears that
if he goes in there, he`ll either stay, choosing to live in long
dead memories, or that what he`ll find won`t be as he expects. That
in truth, she really never was what he thought.
He walks by, the door as always, untouched.
And still it rains.
There have been distractions.
He ponders them for a while, to take his mind from the damp chill.
First there was the poisonous
little elf creature. So beautiful, appearing so fragile and helpless,
yet such a powerfully deceptive creature.
As was usually his way, he knew from the very start that he should
run, escape this creature. His instincts were always good, and they
told him "stay well away from this one... it`s not what it
seems." But as was also his way, he didn`t listen, and paid
the price. Nothing to what he would pay later, but a price, nonetheless.
And the cost? The poisoning
of his basic trust in humanity. People were good, weren`t they?
It would appear not.
The elf led him into it`s lair, beguiled him with it`s charms, and
slowly, very slowly bled him dry. By night, it consumed him with
such physical passion, he thought he was in heaven. Yet by day...
the slow, cunning, scheming, manipulation, and deception was unrelenting.
Something was wrong. He knew, from some unnamed place deep inside
that something was wrong. But what? He couldn`t place it. Happy,
he certainly wasn`t. His energy somehow drained, so that every day
was an ordeal, and night... pain inflicted upon pleasure, denial
followed by demand.
Finally came betrayal. Even
upon the disclosure of it`s deciet, the elf remained true to it`s
own form. "I never betrayed you." As it lustfully thrust
itself down onto some new victim.. "I never cheated."
He walked away with a bitter taste in his mouth, and never looked
back. His blood tainted by the poison of foul schemes.
The dragon was an entirely different form of beast. To this day,
he couldn`t decide if it was a truly evil creature, or merely vicious
in protecting it`s large brood, in the misguided belief that all
who came close were a threat.
For the unwary though, this was a very dangerous animal, and like
the many who had gone before him, he had fallen under it`s powerful
spell. Behind those magical crystal eyes lay not the being of flowers
and raindbows that one percieved, but a creature of such insane
rage and fury, that on true observation, the victim might fall dead
on the spot with fright.
The true strength of this great
serpent though, lay not in it`s fury, but in the spell it cast.
The power of it`s illusion was overwhelming, so that even after
being attacked, and maybe mortally wounded, it`s prey would always
return. `Maybe it was a mistake, just some misunderstanding.` He
had been utterly spellbound, couldn`t see what was before his own
eyes. Not untill he was a broken wreck of a man, destroyed in body
and spirit could he see with open eyes. Not untill he had been attacked
one last time, and cast from the nest, to be replaced almost instanlty
with fresh prey did he understand.
"Doesn`t make me a bad person." said the dragon. He wasn`t
so sure, and likely never would be.
Then came the witches. Two, in close succession, but by now he was
ready. He could play on his terms. Calmly he observing from high
up in his castle, while they weaved their magic and spells. Never
once did they realise that the object of their desire.. that which
they sought to posess, was nothing but an avatar of his creating.
They stormed his gates, or dug under the walls, playing in the gardens,
in the belief that they had reached the final goal, but this was
his game.
The gardens were filled with
high mazes, doubling back on themselves in such convoluted patterns.
The witches became quite lost, believing this to be the very heartland
of his soul, never thinking to look up, where they might see the
castle, and realise that they themselves had been hooked like fish.
The bait being whatever they desired, yet never real enough to touch.
He looks up and out for a moment. Still raining, as it has been
for a decade, maybe never to cease. Not the rain of flashing lighting
and thunder to make you jump, quickening the pulse and exciting
the senses, but that long, slow, monotonous shower. No violent downpour,
or opening of the heavens, so much as the suspension of cold water
in air. It cuts to the bone, turning once hot blood to ice, and
sapping all strength or joy of life.
He hasn`t yet succumed to it`s
life draining chill, still some embers glow, burried, and hidden
away... but he knows, if it didn`t end soon....
He looks away, and thinks of The Watcher.
From the time of the dragon, and all through his games with the
witches, there had been another entity. Entity appeared to be the
right word, for this was no human, yet no beast either. A being
from a distant star perhaps? He didn`t know. He called it The Watcher,
as it`s main occupation seemd the most fitting description.
Through his battles, games, frustrations, and all, The watcher watched.
Always from a distance, contact was rare, and always brief, yet
he knew.. this was a benevolant being, knowing no malice.. and as
such, he was curious.
Curiosity appeared a characteristic
of The Watcher too. On the departing of the witches, he created
his most complete avatar, and sent it down to the garden and to
his surprise, waiting there on the big open lawn, sat this mirraculous
being.
They spent many an afternoon playing with toys, and as many games
as either could find, and he slowly lerned the nature of this creature...
at least, as well as it`s possible to know an entity who`s very
nature is pure contradiction.
He saw that beneath the deathly
pale skin, and piercing blue eyes, lay much darkness and pain..
great sorrow, and yet greater power. The Watcher knew things, things
it simply shouldn`t be able to know. As such, this would make a
very fearsome enemy, yet the sole purpose of it`s actions was always
to do good. Even to those who crossed this being, no real harm was
done, but the placing of a mirror before them, to show them to themselves,
as they really were.
The Watcher, being what it was,
had already seen the mazes in the garden, and knew their paths,
and so looked up, and saw the castle. Here was the irony. Though
born of darkness and pain, The Watcher was a creature of light...
and he would not inflict the darkness of the castle upon such a
wonderous being. He could no sooner exist in this creature`s realm,
as it could survive in his, and this was his greatest sorrow. Of
all the forms he had encountered, the only one he felt joy to be
with, was the one he could not be with.
Still... it felt good to sit on the lawn, playing games, and telling
stories. Many was the time tales of `Ontario The Duck` had kept
his mind from the rain, and he was happy.
He feels the chill again. The garden has been empty for maybe a
month... The Watcher being challenged both by crisis, and then a
distant mission. Empty food packages, cartons, and assorted junk
conspire to hide the carpet, and he idly shuffles his feet through
unnamed detritus, just to remind himself of what the floor actually
looks like. No surprises when he finds it. It`s grey. He nudges
the rubbish back into place, so he`ll have at least on direction
in which to gaze that`s some shade other than grey.
The hinges of the garden gate are rusting, and he hopes they don`t
seize shut before The Watcher returns.
Ten years of rain.
It`s not what he`d have wished for. But he knows, should the sun
eventually shine, he`ll appreciate it so much more.
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