Brigits Flame Entry - Eternal
I have to admit that I am not 100% happy with this piece. I'm disappointed in myself because I had been very into writing it and pleased with what I wrote until I went back and reread the first part and thought that it was crap. It was then hard to get my muse going again because I felt so badly about it. Blah. I guess it takes awhile to get back in the swing of writing. Or so Nikki says, but she might just be being sweet (like always). Anyway, the lyrics spread throughout the story are "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas. The character is another one of my boys and like the last, this is just a snapshot of his life. Hopefully this one won't leave people as confused, however.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I close my eyes
Only for a moment, and the moment’s gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
A lone silhouette stood out along the upper ramparts of a castle. It was a man, likely some sort of soldier based on the armor he was sporting. Aidan stood with his face turned upwards towards the heavens, though he saw nothing of the millions of stars that spanned the entire sky. It was an exceptionally clear night, with not a single cloud to block one’s view of the cosmos; or to hold in any heat for that matter. A gust of cold wind whipped around the man and tousled his closely-cropped burgundy hair but he didn’t twitch a solitary goosebump-covered muscle. He was much too far away to notice. In his mind’s eye, Aidan saw a wonderful scene. It was that of a happy family enjoying a beach outing; three boys, one girl, and their parents. The two eldest boys were wrestling, each trying to prove that they were the stronger brother. Their arms were interlocked as they slid and spun around in the sand. Neither was about to yield and though they taunted one another, their amiable smiles gave away that it was all in jest. The father and youngest son both had rods cast into the sea. Neither had caught a thing so far, but that hardly mattered. Today they fished for the bonding, not for food. The mother and daughter sat on a blanket, chatting away as they made jewelry from the many seashells the young girl had collected earlier that day. It was a perfect picture. It was a perfect family: Aidan’s family. It was a memory that should have brought the man great joy but all he felt was pain.
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
All of that was long gone now, along with his happiness and his innocence. Another more gut wrenching memory became the focus of his thoughts. The moment his home had come into view on that fateful day, Aidan had known something was wrong. The door was wide open and at first he saw no sign of his father or older brother in the field. Why would he? He was looking for two healthy men swinging hoes, not two corpses lying in a mixture of dry, brown earth and their own dark, red blood. As if that wasn’t a gruesome enough discovery, the boy had scrambled into their hut only to collapse in front of the bodies of his mother and younger brother. Apparently she had made a futile attempt to save her child because he was still wrapped tightly in her lifeless arms. The only survivor other than himself was his sister, though the unspeakable things she had been subjected to could be considered worse than death. She never spoke again after that day, much like Aidan never smiled. A family destroyed. A boy’s life changed in an instant. All for two half-grown pigs and a handful of scrawny chickens.
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
And yet the world continued on as if nothing had happened; as if they had never existed in the first place. Outside of their tiny fishing village situated in a remote area of some far off kingdom, no one knew and no one cared. Nothing mattered to anyone if it didn’t have a direct impact on their own pathetically unimportant lives. It was a hard lesson to learn in such a cruel manner and at such a young age. He had only been 13 when his faith in humanity had been crushed beyond recognition. Sure, there had been a select few people that had tried to help, but even they were powerless to stop the death of his soul. When a merchant couple decided to take in his sister, leaving him truly alone, his heart was closed once and for all, never to allow anything in ever again. It was this near total lack of emotion that allowed him to excel in his chosen career path. At age 15, sick of the life of an urchin, he began training as a mercenary. Eight years later and he was highly respected by his peers for having survived so many battles. His record was impeccable. Hell, the fact that he was still alive said volumes for his power and skill as a warrior. He deserved to take pride in his accomplishments. Still, every once in awhile, especially on quiet nights like this, he wondered what his parents would think of him. They had been good, honest, hard-working people and had raised him to be the same. They had expected him to grow up and be a fisherman, a husband, a father. And yet here he was, a full-grown man who was nothing like they had ever imagined. He was a killer, someone who would fight anyone’s fight for them if he was paid enough. He had his own strict moral code, of course, but he highly doubted that was enough to save him. All that hard work his parents had put into him and still in the end they had failed. No, that wasn’t right. He had failed them.
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Finally the mercenary opened his eyes and stared out into the moonless night. A brief, child-like thought about all those tiny dots of light being spirits looking down on the earth passed through his mind before he angrily forced it away. Don’t be so stupid! Dead people surely had more important things to do and besides, Aidan didn’t want anyone to watch him. He was no one special and nothing to be proud of. And he didn’t have time to think about such whimsical notions anyway. In only a few hours, all Hell would break loose and he would need to focus all his energy into completing what he was here to do. His hazel gaze turned down, now, and settled upon a scene that was eerily similar to that which it had just left. Hundreds of fires dotted the landscape, a seeming reflection of the starlit sky above. The invading army was making no attempts to hide their presence. That wasn’t how it was done. No, this wasn’t about strategy, this was a numbers game. When the first light broke, thousands of men would charge at each other; and then most of them would die. The lucky ones would go quickly from a clean wound. A large percentage, however, would linger in sheer agony as their cries for help were drowned out by battle shouts and clanging metal. In just a very short time, two armies would come together and eventually one side would claim victory. But it all meant next to nothing. The commoners of the kingdom would suffer no matter the outcome. They would be forced to pay taxes even higher than the ones they already couldn’t afford to pay for a pointless war. As far as Aidan could tell, battles were only ever fought for two very selfish reasons: pride and greed. There were no heroes or villains. There were only people. People who stupidly clung to notions of immortality through glory. Oh, if only they knew.
Now, don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Monarchs and warlords would come to rule and they would be dethroned. Entire kingdoms would rise and they would fall. In the end, very little of it would ever matter. Once enough time had passed, people would only remember what tiny amount of history had been written down. Further still down the road and even true stories become myth so that people begin to doubt whether or not it ever actually happened at all. That being the case, why would it matter whether Aidan died a sinner or a saint, tomorrow or a hundred years from now? The plain and simple truth was that it didn’t. One soul lost or saved, ten thousand souls here or there, it was all meaningless. Even Aidan didn’t care if he continued to exist. He had already died, all those years ago. If there was nothing left to live for, one didn’t have to worry about such trivial things as survival. Perhaps that was why he was so good at staying alive. With no fear of death, he never lost his cool. It was all rather ironic. Those who tried the hardest to guard their life ended up dead the quickest. It was all just so pointless. Your life was going to end when it was going to end and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The only thing that truly kept the mercenary going was hope of revenge. He wanted to punish those who had stolen his family from him. He wanted to punish those who were like the men that had unjustly ended their time on this earth. Aidan was sure that his soul was irreparably damned, but he wanted to take down as many bastards with him as he could. That was his mission in the world now, until death did he part. Whether his quest ended tomorrow or a hundred years from now, though, he couldn’t say. And he didn’t care one bit.
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
You see, it didn’t matter when or how he died because the outcome was always the same. Ashes to ashes.
Dust to dust.
Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I close my eyes
Only for a moment, and the moment’s gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
A lone silhouette stood out along the upper ramparts of a castle. It was a man, likely some sort of soldier based on the armor he was sporting. Aidan stood with his face turned upwards towards the heavens, though he saw nothing of the millions of stars that spanned the entire sky. It was an exceptionally clear night, with not a single cloud to block one’s view of the cosmos; or to hold in any heat for that matter. A gust of cold wind whipped around the man and tousled his closely-cropped burgundy hair but he didn’t twitch a solitary goosebump-covered muscle. He was much too far away to notice. In his mind’s eye, Aidan saw a wonderful scene. It was that of a happy family enjoying a beach outing; three boys, one girl, and their parents. The two eldest boys were wrestling, each trying to prove that they were the stronger brother. Their arms were interlocked as they slid and spun around in the sand. Neither was about to yield and though they taunted one another, their amiable smiles gave away that it was all in jest. The father and youngest son both had rods cast into the sea. Neither had caught a thing so far, but that hardly mattered. Today they fished for the bonding, not for food. The mother and daughter sat on a blanket, chatting away as they made jewelry from the many seashells the young girl had collected earlier that day. It was a perfect picture. It was a perfect family: Aidan’s family. It was a memory that should have brought the man great joy but all he felt was pain.
Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind
All of that was long gone now, along with his happiness and his innocence. Another more gut wrenching memory became the focus of his thoughts. The moment his home had come into view on that fateful day, Aidan had known something was wrong. The door was wide open and at first he saw no sign of his father or older brother in the field. Why would he? He was looking for two healthy men swinging hoes, not two corpses lying in a mixture of dry, brown earth and their own dark, red blood. As if that wasn’t a gruesome enough discovery, the boy had scrambled into their hut only to collapse in front of the bodies of his mother and younger brother. Apparently she had made a futile attempt to save her child because he was still wrapped tightly in her lifeless arms. The only survivor other than himself was his sister, though the unspeakable things she had been subjected to could be considered worse than death. She never spoke again after that day, much like Aidan never smiled. A family destroyed. A boy’s life changed in an instant. All for two half-grown pigs and a handful of scrawny chickens.
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
And yet the world continued on as if nothing had happened; as if they had never existed in the first place. Outside of their tiny fishing village situated in a remote area of some far off kingdom, no one knew and no one cared. Nothing mattered to anyone if it didn’t have a direct impact on their own pathetically unimportant lives. It was a hard lesson to learn in such a cruel manner and at such a young age. He had only been 13 when his faith in humanity had been crushed beyond recognition. Sure, there had been a select few people that had tried to help, but even they were powerless to stop the death of his soul. When a merchant couple decided to take in his sister, leaving him truly alone, his heart was closed once and for all, never to allow anything in ever again. It was this near total lack of emotion that allowed him to excel in his chosen career path. At age 15, sick of the life of an urchin, he began training as a mercenary. Eight years later and he was highly respected by his peers for having survived so many battles. His record was impeccable. Hell, the fact that he was still alive said volumes for his power and skill as a warrior. He deserved to take pride in his accomplishments. Still, every once in awhile, especially on quiet nights like this, he wondered what his parents would think of him. They had been good, honest, hard-working people and had raised him to be the same. They had expected him to grow up and be a fisherman, a husband, a father. And yet here he was, a full-grown man who was nothing like they had ever imagined. He was a killer, someone who would fight anyone’s fight for them if he was paid enough. He had his own strict moral code, of course, but he highly doubted that was enough to save him. All that hard work his parents had put into him and still in the end they had failed. No, that wasn’t right. He had failed them.
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Finally the mercenary opened his eyes and stared out into the moonless night. A brief, child-like thought about all those tiny dots of light being spirits looking down on the earth passed through his mind before he angrily forced it away. Don’t be so stupid! Dead people surely had more important things to do and besides, Aidan didn’t want anyone to watch him. He was no one special and nothing to be proud of. And he didn’t have time to think about such whimsical notions anyway. In only a few hours, all Hell would break loose and he would need to focus all his energy into completing what he was here to do. His hazel gaze turned down, now, and settled upon a scene that was eerily similar to that which it had just left. Hundreds of fires dotted the landscape, a seeming reflection of the starlit sky above. The invading army was making no attempts to hide their presence. That wasn’t how it was done. No, this wasn’t about strategy, this was a numbers game. When the first light broke, thousands of men would charge at each other; and then most of them would die. The lucky ones would go quickly from a clean wound. A large percentage, however, would linger in sheer agony as their cries for help were drowned out by battle shouts and clanging metal. In just a very short time, two armies would come together and eventually one side would claim victory. But it all meant next to nothing. The commoners of the kingdom would suffer no matter the outcome. They would be forced to pay taxes even higher than the ones they already couldn’t afford to pay for a pointless war. As far as Aidan could tell, battles were only ever fought for two very selfish reasons: pride and greed. There were no heroes or villains. There were only people. People who stupidly clung to notions of immortality through glory. Oh, if only they knew.
Now, don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Monarchs and warlords would come to rule and they would be dethroned. Entire kingdoms would rise and they would fall. In the end, very little of it would ever matter. Once enough time had passed, people would only remember what tiny amount of history had been written down. Further still down the road and even true stories become myth so that people begin to doubt whether or not it ever actually happened at all. That being the case, why would it matter whether Aidan died a sinner or a saint, tomorrow or a hundred years from now? The plain and simple truth was that it didn’t. One soul lost or saved, ten thousand souls here or there, it was all meaningless. Even Aidan didn’t care if he continued to exist. He had already died, all those years ago. If there was nothing left to live for, one didn’t have to worry about such trivial things as survival. Perhaps that was why he was so good at staying alive. With no fear of death, he never lost his cool. It was all rather ironic. Those who tried the hardest to guard their life ended up dead the quickest. It was all just so pointless. Your life was going to end when it was going to end and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The only thing that truly kept the mercenary going was hope of revenge. He wanted to punish those who had stolen his family from him. He wanted to punish those who were like the men that had unjustly ended their time on this earth. Aidan was sure that his soul was irreparably damned, but he wanted to take down as many bastards with him as he could. That was his mission in the world now, until death did he part. Whether his quest ended tomorrow or a hundred years from now, though, he couldn’t say. And he didn’t care one bit.
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
You see, it didn’t matter when or how he died because the outcome was always the same. Ashes to ashes.
Dust to dust.
Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind