History of a Dead Man
There is a bright flash of light as I feel the coldness creep into my veins. All around me is nothing but white space. There is no colour to anything. Just white. Unbidden memories come to my mind ,they appear as pictures, moving pictures. My first memory is of my childhood on the farm. Running through the wheat fields as my blonde hair whips about me in the winds. Such a lovely time. My heart almost breaks as I see the look of pure delight on my younger self. Next. Well, next comes the day that my father left the farm to go into the market. Just like every other weekend, Father would go into the marketplace to sell our produce. I had never gone with him but something told me on that day that I should go with him.
The road to the marketplace was bumpy and the asses were old and tired. After a couple of hours in the back of the wagon we arrived at the outdoor marketplace in Sil. I remember the sounds and the smells of the market. The spices from the east and the smell of freshly caught fish from the docks. What a wonderful place. There is a sense of excitement in the air as merchants peddle their good to each other and I look around, my eyes alight in childish wonder.
The scene shifts
We are on our way home and father and I are chatting loudly about our day. Father stills suddenly “Get behind me” he commands. I obey. Out of the bushes walk two men. Both are well built and carry large swords on their backs. “Give us your money” the one of the left comments. The one of the right, he has a crooked nose I observe absentmindedly. “And your kid. He looks… Delicious.” The man licks his lips with a blackened tongue. I shudder with absolute disguite. Next thing I know both men are on the ground bleeding heavily and father is looking down at me. That’s what it happens. Father’s eyes widen as his life slips away from him. Out of his chest is a long, jagged piece of ice. I scream and run.
The next memory is a few years later. I had completed my stint in the military as is required by all men my age. I stand there as the general pins a medal to my chest. For bravery he says. For unequaled prowess in combat. Maybe if that were true Jim would still be with me right now. His blood is on my hands. If I was just a bit faster and less full of myself then Jim wouldn’t have died to that damned elf. My thoughts are going a million miles an hour and it feels like there is a dragon loose in my head. I just wish that damn General would hurry up so I could hand in my resignation. After the ceremony is completed I stiffly walk over to the general and hand him my written resignation and the medal he just pinned on my chest. As I’m leaving I take the only possession that means anything to me. My swords. They are family heirlooms.
The entire world shifts around me. I can hear some screaming in the distance and then silence. Oh no. I recognize this memory… this was my last one before I died. I was on a raiding mission with some bandits which I had joined up with. The crimson ember or something like that. We were raiding an Elven town. Damned elves deserved every bit of the trouble they got. Bastards for killing Jim… I was breaking open the doors to a nobles home when the three others who are assigned to me fall to an explosion of fire from an errant mage. I quickly head down into the mansion. I come across a few locked doors and then an ornately carved oak door. My sense of adventure gets the better of me. As I walk towards the door I something feels off. I push those thoughts out of my mind and open the door. On the other side I notice a glowing rune. Then I start to feel cold all over.
Which brings me back to this place, this white area of nothingness. As soon as those thoughts cross my mind however there is a lurching sensation and I am returned to the wonderful world of colour. However, I am in a prison cell. And I don’t feel … alive… I look down and my hands are bandaged and it hurts to go near those glowing white runes along the floors. What happened to me? What’s going on? I look around me and I see to my shock and amazement undead! Then it hits me. I’ve become one of them. I have become one of things that go bump in the night….
-fin-
The road to the marketplace was bumpy and the asses were old and tired. After a couple of hours in the back of the wagon we arrived at the outdoor marketplace in Sil. I remember the sounds and the smells of the market. The spices from the east and the smell of freshly caught fish from the docks. What a wonderful place. There is a sense of excitement in the air as merchants peddle their good to each other and I look around, my eyes alight in childish wonder.
The scene shifts
We are on our way home and father and I are chatting loudly about our day. Father stills suddenly “Get behind me” he commands. I obey. Out of the bushes walk two men. Both are well built and carry large swords on their backs. “Give us your money” the one of the left comments. The one of the right, he has a crooked nose I observe absentmindedly. “And your kid. He looks… Delicious.” The man licks his lips with a blackened tongue. I shudder with absolute disguite. Next thing I know both men are on the ground bleeding heavily and father is looking down at me. That’s what it happens. Father’s eyes widen as his life slips away from him. Out of his chest is a long, jagged piece of ice. I scream and run.
The next memory is a few years later. I had completed my stint in the military as is required by all men my age. I stand there as the general pins a medal to my chest. For bravery he says. For unequaled prowess in combat. Maybe if that were true Jim would still be with me right now. His blood is on my hands. If I was just a bit faster and less full of myself then Jim wouldn’t have died to that damned elf. My thoughts are going a million miles an hour and it feels like there is a dragon loose in my head. I just wish that damn General would hurry up so I could hand in my resignation. After the ceremony is completed I stiffly walk over to the general and hand him my written resignation and the medal he just pinned on my chest. As I’m leaving I take the only possession that means anything to me. My swords. They are family heirlooms.
The entire world shifts around me. I can hear some screaming in the distance and then silence. Oh no. I recognize this memory… this was my last one before I died. I was on a raiding mission with some bandits which I had joined up with. The crimson ember or something like that. We were raiding an Elven town. Damned elves deserved every bit of the trouble they got. Bastards for killing Jim… I was breaking open the doors to a nobles home when the three others who are assigned to me fall to an explosion of fire from an errant mage. I quickly head down into the mansion. I come across a few locked doors and then an ornately carved oak door. My sense of adventure gets the better of me. As I walk towards the door I something feels off. I push those thoughts out of my mind and open the door. On the other side I notice a glowing rune. Then I start to feel cold all over.
Which brings me back to this place, this white area of nothingness. As soon as those thoughts cross my mind however there is a lurching sensation and I am returned to the wonderful world of colour. However, I am in a prison cell. And I don’t feel … alive… I look down and my hands are bandaged and it hurts to go near those glowing white runes along the floors. What happened to me? What’s going on? I look around me and I see to my shock and amazement undead! Then it hits me. I’ve become one of them. I have become one of things that go bump in the night….
-fin-