The Search
Nothing much to say here. According to an IQ test, I am a Universal Genius. LAWLZ. You got that right, yo. Anyway. Here be 'The Search', an entry for a challenge in which my character is supposed to undergo a surreal journey and discover a sort of truth at the end.
Without further ado...
The Search
“Go back!” he yelled, brandishing his sword rather clumsily. The older man regarded him bemusedly. He was young, and the journey here had taken its toll on him. His coat was torn to his waist, his dark hair was matted, his clothes torn, and he now bore not a few scars.
The man stepped closer, and the boy stepped back hurriedly, pointing the tip of the sword at him. “I mean it,” he said shakily, his other hand moving to grip the hilt of the sword, making it steadier. The man smiled toothily as he took in the boy’s terrified light brown eyes, average frame, and the glasses askew on the bridge of his nose.
“Come now,” he drawled, his hand caressing the hilt of his own blade, “Ye’re but a young boy, and me a grown man. One of us’ll be fallin’ down the Gap, be sure o’ that.”
“I’m not afraid,” the boy said boldly, though his actions contradicted it. The man’s smile widened. He had seen the boy glance at the edge of the cliff and step away from it.
“Aye, of course not,” the man replied lazily, his one good eye surveying the surroundings while the boy decided whether or not to attack. The cliff was a sullen piece of earthbound rock. Its twin stood almost five hundred miles away, with nothing but air in between them - the Gap. The boy had probably lost his way, the man mused. On this piece of damned rock, there was only him and his hut. He was the Guardian of this side of the cliff, although what he was to guard, he knew not; the unfertile rocky soil, perhaps? Or maybe the hundreds of miles consisting of absolutely nothing?
The boy had probably planned to go to the other side of the Gap, which was the foundation of the Gate. Young idiot, the man sniggered inwardly. A harsh yell brought him to reality, and he found himself staring at a charging boy. “Aaaaargghh!” the boy screamed, bringing his sword down recklessly. The man easily sidestepped him and the boy stumbled.
He quickly regained his balance and turned, brown eyes blazing with rage, embarrassment, and determination. “Give up, boy,” the man goaded, his hand twitching on the hilt of his sheathed sword. He wouldn’t draw it unless it was necessary.
The boy ignored him and stepped around him warily. Without warning, he lunged forwards. The man drew his sword and parried his blow before stepping back. The boy brought his sword up in an arc, and the man dodged it. While the boy’s back was turned, he stepped closer to the edge.
The boy turned and unleashed a flurry of attacks. The man was mildly surprised at the boy’s determination and technique. He seemed young - too young to know the attacks he was using. Most probably, though, he was randomly swinging and thrusting his sword. The older male blocked the attacks easily then ducked around him. The boy, enraged at losing his prey, turned around, his sword swinging a wide arc.
He had forgotten that he was at the cliff’s edge, and the sword’s weight worked against him. He tilted towards the Gap and, in the next moment, found himself falling. His own scream filled his ears. Only his common sense kept him holding on to his sword while the other hand groped desperately for a handhold. It was futile - the cliff’s rock was smooth.
The man rested the tip of his sword on the ground and wrapped his arms around the hilt as he stared down at the falling boy. He felt little regret. The brat had tried to kill him for absolutely no reason. Served him right. With a flourish, he rubbed his good eye and sheathed his sword, striding back to his humble hut.
***
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!”
He tumbled down into misty darkness. The blackness around him was marred by wisps of light grey mists, and he imagined he heard birds chirping around him. His sword dragged him down, and he struggled to sheathe it. It was heavy, and his arm was stretched out past him, pointing downwards and contributing to his increasing momentum.
His other hand flailed wildly, grabbed his glasses and forced them into his coat pocket before latching on to the sword. His undeveloped muscles flexed, struggling to sheathe the sword. It was useless. As the blood rushed to his head, he tried to bend his legs and bring himself upright. Heaving, he managed to point the sword slightly upwards, and bending his legs painfully, managed to bring himself to a more-or-less upright falling position. After a bit of effort, he managed to sheathe his sword.
The air toyed with him, pulling him into a lying position, then a standing one, then back. Numbly, he remembered something he had been told a long time ago. Praying feverishly, his fingers scrabbled at his cloak and he ripped it off. Holding it above him as if he was sheltering himself from the rain, he felt the air catch and the cloak balloon up slightly. He slowed down.
***
It extended a claw to gingerly poke the fruit, yellow eyes narrowed. Was it poisonous? It hadn’t seen this kind of fruit before in the valley. A needle-like extension emerged from the claw and pierced the fruit. The creature waited patiently as the needle-thing absorbed the juice and then pulled it out. It was harmless. Greedily, the creature hooked the fruit in its claws and gobbled it down, spitting out the red, glowing seeds.
Behind it, its fellow tribe members gathered. Seeing that their companion was eating the fruit without any side effects, they swarmed the scrawny tree. As they ate, hardly any of them noticed the faint, echoing noise that came from above them. In a few seconds, however, as their bellies filled up, one or two noticed it. The observant ones made high screeching noises, pointing two of their claws up. The other claw jabbed a companion, trying to get the tribe’s attention. Something dark was falling from the sky. One of them, the youngest, cawed, frightened. Its parent patted the hard shell covering the part where its neck would be, and it quietened.
The tribe, as one, looked up, yellow eyes glimmering, as they watched the object fall towards them.
Whump!
The creatures stirred and shifted, leaving a circular space in the middle where the object had fallen. One of them poked at it with a claw. The thing shifted, then yelled and jumped up, holding something shiny and definitely sharp in one of its claws.
The boy was bewildered. He had seen strange things, but this was by far the strangest. He was in the middle of a circle of lime-green creatures which seemed to consist of triangular leather shells. Their eyes were slightly rounded triangles, and were a bright, shimmering yellow.
He must be seeing things. He squinted at them. They seemed harmless and if they had sharp teeth, he couldn’t see them. His vision was blurred, though, so he slowly reached into his coat pocket to retrieve his glasses.
The creatures whimpered and backed away slightly. He stood still. The moment he put on his glasses, he had noticed their sharp claws. Some of them had a needle-like extension protruding from it, and he didn’t want to find out what it was for. When they saw that he was harmless, they edged closer, cawing noises issuing from them.
He reached for one of them, the smallest, who was approaching him shyly. He reached out to touch its extended claw.
“Argh!”
Something sharp hooked his shirt from behind, digging into his skin and tugging him upwards. He looked back. The thing that was grabbed him was yellow and wrinkled, with sharp claws at the end of three fingers. He looked up and saw a gigantic eagle, its magnificent feathers ruffling in the wind. A scream built up within him and exploded, a shrill, terrified scream, and he stretched out for the triangular yellow creatures desperately.
They reared on their hind ‘legs’, reaching for their newly-made friend, but to no avail. He was too far to be reached. They grew smaller and smaller, until he could see nothing but the familiar misty darkness. “Let go!” he screamed at the eagle, which was carrying him further upwards. He twisted in its grip and pummelled the hard skin and bone of its talons.
The eagle jerked ever so slightly, but otherwise continued as if nothing had happened. The boy realized that his sword was dangling for its sheath, and reached for it. With a yell, he drove it into one of the talons. The eagle let out a shriek of pain and surprise, and its talons loosened.
Realizing with a profound horror what he had done, the boy gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. The talons had given way, and he was hanging on by sheer luck and determination. The eagle shrieked loudly and shook its leg rapidly. The boy’s hands were sweating and slippery, and he felt himself falling.
“No!” he grabbed for the hilt of the sword too suddenly, and it was tugged off the eagle’s talons. Boy and sword tumbled down onto the ground for the second time in less than a half hour. The sword screamed down, narrowly missing piercing the boy’s chest. He swerved out of the way, and, looking down, gritted his teeth. He was only a few yards away. His sword struck the ground tip-first and shattered from the impact. It was a cruel premonition of what would happen to him.
“Aaaaaa-“
***
He huddled his knees closer to his chest, his teeth chattering wildly. He was a boy no older than thirteen, with dark hair, fair skin and curiously light brown eyes which hid behind glasses. All around him was utter whiteness. Once or twice, he would imagine something dark dotting the white in the distance, but it would disappear the moment he blinked.
The merciless icy cold of the snow seeped in through his torn cloak and tunic, freezing his skin and numbing his senses. His eyes were slightly glazed over as he stared at the dying embers of the fire he had started hours ago.
So…cold…
He reached out stiffly in an attempt to loosen his limbs. A sudden sound behind him forced him to his feet. As tired and numb as he was, he was still cautious about his surroundings. A low growl behind him brought his worst fears to life.
Wolves.
He turned around slowly, bending slightly to grab a burning branch from the fire, and found himself face-to-face with a large, ferocious wolf. Its eyes reflected its ravenous hunger, and its sharp teeth dripped with saliva. Its hot breath smothered him, and he felt like gagging. The wolf’s breath reeked of dried blood and meat.
Boy and wolf stood still. Prey and predator; man and beast.
The wolf stepped forwards menacingly, and terror won over caution. The boy ran. He was exhausted, numb, and hungry. He was no match for the wolf. The low growling grew louder, and he turned just in time to see the wolf pounce.
***
The call of monkeys rang in his ears. He reached under his glasses to rub his eyes. The rainforest was filled with wildlife. The forest floor crawled with large insects of all varieties. Birds were chirping somewhere in the canopy and a native war cry could be heard echoing throughout the forest.
‘Wait a minute. War cry?’
He spun around, eyes wide and wary. He couldn’t tell whether it was in his imagination or if he really heard the dull, resonating thuds of war drums. His heart beat faster, and he found himself running. Running away from the awful, repetitive thud of the drums.
Something whistled past his ear. He didn’t stop to look. Run. Run. Get away from the drums. Get away from the cries. Get away.
He followed the unspoken instructions blindly, tearing through branches and ducking past clearings as the whistling things shot past him.
Something behind him whistled loudly, and he felt a sharp pain in his spine. He fell. His heart beat even faster, though it had nothing to do with fear this time. His limbs grew numb. He couldn’t move. He didn’t see the beings that surrounded him. He didn’t see who raised a long spear, ready to thrust it into the back of his neck. He didn’t…
***
“Fire!”
The air was filled with the sound of bullets. The soldier, barely of age, cocked his rifle and aimed. He fired off a few rounds before ducking back down.
“Yer aim’s worse than a dead chicken’s!” one of his fellow soldiers yelled over the deafening sound of gunshots. He stood, fired, and then ducked back down into the trench.
“Can’t see withou’ me glasses!” the boy yelled back, grabbing a magazine and reloading his rifle.
He stood up to fire at the enemy, but instead, found himself in a foreign building. He looked down at himself. He was clean. There was no mud or blood staining his clothes and dirtying his skin. Why was he wearing a heavy, hooded cloak?
“Pray, boy,” a voice said grimly, and he looked up to see a man, dressed as a priest, addressing him. “Pray that your disease will be taken away by Him. Pray.”
My disease?
He wanted to ask, but the man had already walked away. Frowning, he turned to walk outside, noticing with awe the magnificent doors of the temple.
“Aaah!”
“Look!”
He frowned, confused. Why were these people pointing at him? Why were they screaming?
“It’s a leper! Gods above!”
A leper? He looked down at his covered hands. Dreading what he was going to see, he pulled off his glove and screamed.
His skin was peeling, leaving dark red patches. It was…it was…
“Stand and fight!” a voice roared. The boy looked up. There was a tiny man before him, clad in dirty armour.
“What?” he tried to say, but instead, a jet of fire shot out of his nostrils. He scrambled backwards in surprise. The knight advanced cautiously. The boy looked down at his hands, and saw dark red, leathery skin. He had four fingers, all adorned with claws.
He looked up.
“Charge!”
His horse bucked and he grabbed at the reins. A split-second later, he found himself speeding down the clearing, his comrades alongside him, a sword in his hand and a yell in his throat. He met an enemy knight head on, plunging his sword into the man’s throat. Jerking it out, he looked wildly around.
All hell had broken loose. A hell of mud and metal.
“Fire!” he heard a distant yell.
He turned to find an arrow whistling through the air. Before he could duck, it struck him in the throat.
No…
He was running. There were people following him, and their footsteps echoed in the dull, dark corridor, ringing inside his head. There was light ahead, and he knew not what would be awaiting him there, but he knew that he had to reach it.
His boots thudded steadily on the stone floor. The further he ran, the narrower the corridor, until he found himself forced to walk sideways. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever.
Finally, the light was so bright that he knew it was within touching distance. He could see something in the middle. It looked like a jewel. A precious, clear, shining jewel. A feeling of peace and satisfaction settled in his heart, and he reached out for it.
***
His eyes shot open. He was on a familiar chair, and he was sitting at an oak desk. A smile of relief crossed his features. A dream. That’s all it was.
No.
Something stirred within him. No, that wasn’t just another dream.
Overcome with a sudden urge, he leaned over the desk, pressed his pencil onto paper, and began writing. The scratch of lead on paper was strangely comforting, after he had been in torment for so long.
A content smile tugged at his lips, and his light brown eyes crinkled beneath the clear lenses of his glasses. The search was over. He had found his muse; his inspiration.
Without further ado...
The Search
“Go back!” he yelled, brandishing his sword rather clumsily. The older man regarded him bemusedly. He was young, and the journey here had taken its toll on him. His coat was torn to his waist, his dark hair was matted, his clothes torn, and he now bore not a few scars.
The man stepped closer, and the boy stepped back hurriedly, pointing the tip of the sword at him. “I mean it,” he said shakily, his other hand moving to grip the hilt of the sword, making it steadier. The man smiled toothily as he took in the boy’s terrified light brown eyes, average frame, and the glasses askew on the bridge of his nose.
“Come now,” he drawled, his hand caressing the hilt of his own blade, “Ye’re but a young boy, and me a grown man. One of us’ll be fallin’ down the Gap, be sure o’ that.”
“I’m not afraid,” the boy said boldly, though his actions contradicted it. The man’s smile widened. He had seen the boy glance at the edge of the cliff and step away from it.
“Aye, of course not,” the man replied lazily, his one good eye surveying the surroundings while the boy decided whether or not to attack. The cliff was a sullen piece of earthbound rock. Its twin stood almost five hundred miles away, with nothing but air in between them - the Gap. The boy had probably lost his way, the man mused. On this piece of damned rock, there was only him and his hut. He was the Guardian of this side of the cliff, although what he was to guard, he knew not; the unfertile rocky soil, perhaps? Or maybe the hundreds of miles consisting of absolutely nothing?
The boy had probably planned to go to the other side of the Gap, which was the foundation of the Gate. Young idiot, the man sniggered inwardly. A harsh yell brought him to reality, and he found himself staring at a charging boy. “Aaaaargghh!” the boy screamed, bringing his sword down recklessly. The man easily sidestepped him and the boy stumbled.
He quickly regained his balance and turned, brown eyes blazing with rage, embarrassment, and determination. “Give up, boy,” the man goaded, his hand twitching on the hilt of his sheathed sword. He wouldn’t draw it unless it was necessary.
The boy ignored him and stepped around him warily. Without warning, he lunged forwards. The man drew his sword and parried his blow before stepping back. The boy brought his sword up in an arc, and the man dodged it. While the boy’s back was turned, he stepped closer to the edge.
The boy turned and unleashed a flurry of attacks. The man was mildly surprised at the boy’s determination and technique. He seemed young - too young to know the attacks he was using. Most probably, though, he was randomly swinging and thrusting his sword. The older male blocked the attacks easily then ducked around him. The boy, enraged at losing his prey, turned around, his sword swinging a wide arc.
He had forgotten that he was at the cliff’s edge, and the sword’s weight worked against him. He tilted towards the Gap and, in the next moment, found himself falling. His own scream filled his ears. Only his common sense kept him holding on to his sword while the other hand groped desperately for a handhold. It was futile - the cliff’s rock was smooth.
The man rested the tip of his sword on the ground and wrapped his arms around the hilt as he stared down at the falling boy. He felt little regret. The brat had tried to kill him for absolutely no reason. Served him right. With a flourish, he rubbed his good eye and sheathed his sword, striding back to his humble hut.
***
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!”
He tumbled down into misty darkness. The blackness around him was marred by wisps of light grey mists, and he imagined he heard birds chirping around him. His sword dragged him down, and he struggled to sheathe it. It was heavy, and his arm was stretched out past him, pointing downwards and contributing to his increasing momentum.
His other hand flailed wildly, grabbed his glasses and forced them into his coat pocket before latching on to the sword. His undeveloped muscles flexed, struggling to sheathe the sword. It was useless. As the blood rushed to his head, he tried to bend his legs and bring himself upright. Heaving, he managed to point the sword slightly upwards, and bending his legs painfully, managed to bring himself to a more-or-less upright falling position. After a bit of effort, he managed to sheathe his sword.
The air toyed with him, pulling him into a lying position, then a standing one, then back. Numbly, he remembered something he had been told a long time ago. Praying feverishly, his fingers scrabbled at his cloak and he ripped it off. Holding it above him as if he was sheltering himself from the rain, he felt the air catch and the cloak balloon up slightly. He slowed down.
***
It extended a claw to gingerly poke the fruit, yellow eyes narrowed. Was it poisonous? It hadn’t seen this kind of fruit before in the valley. A needle-like extension emerged from the claw and pierced the fruit. The creature waited patiently as the needle-thing absorbed the juice and then pulled it out. It was harmless. Greedily, the creature hooked the fruit in its claws and gobbled it down, spitting out the red, glowing seeds.
Behind it, its fellow tribe members gathered. Seeing that their companion was eating the fruit without any side effects, they swarmed the scrawny tree. As they ate, hardly any of them noticed the faint, echoing noise that came from above them. In a few seconds, however, as their bellies filled up, one or two noticed it. The observant ones made high screeching noises, pointing two of their claws up. The other claw jabbed a companion, trying to get the tribe’s attention. Something dark was falling from the sky. One of them, the youngest, cawed, frightened. Its parent patted the hard shell covering the part where its neck would be, and it quietened.
The tribe, as one, looked up, yellow eyes glimmering, as they watched the object fall towards them.
Whump!
The creatures stirred and shifted, leaving a circular space in the middle where the object had fallen. One of them poked at it with a claw. The thing shifted, then yelled and jumped up, holding something shiny and definitely sharp in one of its claws.
The boy was bewildered. He had seen strange things, but this was by far the strangest. He was in the middle of a circle of lime-green creatures which seemed to consist of triangular leather shells. Their eyes were slightly rounded triangles, and were a bright, shimmering yellow.
He must be seeing things. He squinted at them. They seemed harmless and if they had sharp teeth, he couldn’t see them. His vision was blurred, though, so he slowly reached into his coat pocket to retrieve his glasses.
The creatures whimpered and backed away slightly. He stood still. The moment he put on his glasses, he had noticed their sharp claws. Some of them had a needle-like extension protruding from it, and he didn’t want to find out what it was for. When they saw that he was harmless, they edged closer, cawing noises issuing from them.
He reached for one of them, the smallest, who was approaching him shyly. He reached out to touch its extended claw.
“Argh!”
Something sharp hooked his shirt from behind, digging into his skin and tugging him upwards. He looked back. The thing that was grabbed him was yellow and wrinkled, with sharp claws at the end of three fingers. He looked up and saw a gigantic eagle, its magnificent feathers ruffling in the wind. A scream built up within him and exploded, a shrill, terrified scream, and he stretched out for the triangular yellow creatures desperately.
They reared on their hind ‘legs’, reaching for their newly-made friend, but to no avail. He was too far to be reached. They grew smaller and smaller, until he could see nothing but the familiar misty darkness. “Let go!” he screamed at the eagle, which was carrying him further upwards. He twisted in its grip and pummelled the hard skin and bone of its talons.
The eagle jerked ever so slightly, but otherwise continued as if nothing had happened. The boy realized that his sword was dangling for its sheath, and reached for it. With a yell, he drove it into one of the talons. The eagle let out a shriek of pain and surprise, and its talons loosened.
Realizing with a profound horror what he had done, the boy gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. The talons had given way, and he was hanging on by sheer luck and determination. The eagle shrieked loudly and shook its leg rapidly. The boy’s hands were sweating and slippery, and he felt himself falling.
“No!” he grabbed for the hilt of the sword too suddenly, and it was tugged off the eagle’s talons. Boy and sword tumbled down onto the ground for the second time in less than a half hour. The sword screamed down, narrowly missing piercing the boy’s chest. He swerved out of the way, and, looking down, gritted his teeth. He was only a few yards away. His sword struck the ground tip-first and shattered from the impact. It was a cruel premonition of what would happen to him.
“Aaaaaa-“
***
He huddled his knees closer to his chest, his teeth chattering wildly. He was a boy no older than thirteen, with dark hair, fair skin and curiously light brown eyes which hid behind glasses. All around him was utter whiteness. Once or twice, he would imagine something dark dotting the white in the distance, but it would disappear the moment he blinked.
The merciless icy cold of the snow seeped in through his torn cloak and tunic, freezing his skin and numbing his senses. His eyes were slightly glazed over as he stared at the dying embers of the fire he had started hours ago.
So…cold…
He reached out stiffly in an attempt to loosen his limbs. A sudden sound behind him forced him to his feet. As tired and numb as he was, he was still cautious about his surroundings. A low growl behind him brought his worst fears to life.
Wolves.
He turned around slowly, bending slightly to grab a burning branch from the fire, and found himself face-to-face with a large, ferocious wolf. Its eyes reflected its ravenous hunger, and its sharp teeth dripped with saliva. Its hot breath smothered him, and he felt like gagging. The wolf’s breath reeked of dried blood and meat.
Boy and wolf stood still. Prey and predator; man and beast.
The wolf stepped forwards menacingly, and terror won over caution. The boy ran. He was exhausted, numb, and hungry. He was no match for the wolf. The low growling grew louder, and he turned just in time to see the wolf pounce.
***
The call of monkeys rang in his ears. He reached under his glasses to rub his eyes. The rainforest was filled with wildlife. The forest floor crawled with large insects of all varieties. Birds were chirping somewhere in the canopy and a native war cry could be heard echoing throughout the forest.
‘Wait a minute. War cry?’
He spun around, eyes wide and wary. He couldn’t tell whether it was in his imagination or if he really heard the dull, resonating thuds of war drums. His heart beat faster, and he found himself running. Running away from the awful, repetitive thud of the drums.
Something whistled past his ear. He didn’t stop to look. Run. Run. Get away from the drums. Get away from the cries. Get away.
He followed the unspoken instructions blindly, tearing through branches and ducking past clearings as the whistling things shot past him.
Something behind him whistled loudly, and he felt a sharp pain in his spine. He fell. His heart beat even faster, though it had nothing to do with fear this time. His limbs grew numb. He couldn’t move. He didn’t see the beings that surrounded him. He didn’t see who raised a long spear, ready to thrust it into the back of his neck. He didn’t…
***
“Fire!”
The air was filled with the sound of bullets. The soldier, barely of age, cocked his rifle and aimed. He fired off a few rounds before ducking back down.
“Yer aim’s worse than a dead chicken’s!” one of his fellow soldiers yelled over the deafening sound of gunshots. He stood, fired, and then ducked back down into the trench.
“Can’t see withou’ me glasses!” the boy yelled back, grabbing a magazine and reloading his rifle.
He stood up to fire at the enemy, but instead, found himself in a foreign building. He looked down at himself. He was clean. There was no mud or blood staining his clothes and dirtying his skin. Why was he wearing a heavy, hooded cloak?
“Pray, boy,” a voice said grimly, and he looked up to see a man, dressed as a priest, addressing him. “Pray that your disease will be taken away by Him. Pray.”
My disease?
He wanted to ask, but the man had already walked away. Frowning, he turned to walk outside, noticing with awe the magnificent doors of the temple.
“Aaah!”
“Look!”
He frowned, confused. Why were these people pointing at him? Why were they screaming?
“It’s a leper! Gods above!”
A leper? He looked down at his covered hands. Dreading what he was going to see, he pulled off his glove and screamed.
His skin was peeling, leaving dark red patches. It was…it was…
“Stand and fight!” a voice roared. The boy looked up. There was a tiny man before him, clad in dirty armour.
“What?” he tried to say, but instead, a jet of fire shot out of his nostrils. He scrambled backwards in surprise. The knight advanced cautiously. The boy looked down at his hands, and saw dark red, leathery skin. He had four fingers, all adorned with claws.
He looked up.
“Charge!”
His horse bucked and he grabbed at the reins. A split-second later, he found himself speeding down the clearing, his comrades alongside him, a sword in his hand and a yell in his throat. He met an enemy knight head on, plunging his sword into the man’s throat. Jerking it out, he looked wildly around.
All hell had broken loose. A hell of mud and metal.
“Fire!” he heard a distant yell.
He turned to find an arrow whistling through the air. Before he could duck, it struck him in the throat.
No…
He was running. There were people following him, and their footsteps echoed in the dull, dark corridor, ringing inside his head. There was light ahead, and he knew not what would be awaiting him there, but he knew that he had to reach it.
His boots thudded steadily on the stone floor. The further he ran, the narrower the corridor, until he found himself forced to walk sideways. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever.
Finally, the light was so bright that he knew it was within touching distance. He could see something in the middle. It looked like a jewel. A precious, clear, shining jewel. A feeling of peace and satisfaction settled in his heart, and he reached out for it.
***
His eyes shot open. He was on a familiar chair, and he was sitting at an oak desk. A smile of relief crossed his features. A dream. That’s all it was.
No.
Something stirred within him. No, that wasn’t just another dream.
Overcome with a sudden urge, he leaned over the desk, pressed his pencil onto paper, and began writing. The scratch of lead on paper was strangely comforting, after he had been in torment for so long.
A content smile tugged at his lips, and his light brown eyes crinkled beneath the clear lenses of his glasses. The search was over. He had found his muse; his inspiration.