Desperate Moonlight

The dark one jumps from the tower window, unwilling prisoner in his iron grasp.
The light one follows.

They land gently on a sharply sloping roof, sliding to a stop. Halting for a moment, the charcoal-armored one looks back at his shining pursuer. Clad in pearl-colored armor, the boy is no older than seventeen. The iron knight smirks. He sees the boy's slippery footing, and knows that he has no real challenge: all a swordsman's skill with a blade will fail if his feet do not support him.

He readies his sword for the inevitable first strike that the boy will make, for that is the boy's nature: he moves swiftly, relying not on the sheer strength that he does not yet possess, but upon his youthful speed.

The young one jumps forward, gaining speed and distance as he falls towards his beloved and her captor. The elder knight raises his sword up to block, but stumbles to his knees. Furiously looking to his side, he sees the girl tugging at his boot: she tripped him. Looking back up at the boy's descending blade, he has mere second-fractions before his life is quenched.

The boy's blade strikes stone. The elder man's head is barely fast enough to move out of the way; his life continues.
Anger fills the black knight's mind. He has been brought to his knees by a mere girl, and nearly slaughtered by a child.
But he still has his strength, something neither of the children possess. Massive sword swung round, the dark one knocks away his challenger's blade and stands upright. If the two children shall cheat the rules of combat, so shall he. Surprised by the dark one's move, the boy is knocked back. With a lion's wrath, the black knight clasps his hand about the girl's throat, tossing her from the rooftop.

The boy jumps after her.


The laws of the world are writ in stone; none may break them but their author.
And so, it seems, the author sees fit to bless these two.

The young knight's white armor glows with angelic light; he flies groundward faster than his princess.
Her white dress, too, begins to glow, slowing her fall as if to gently pass her life into the arms of the selfless knight who chases her even to death's embrace.

They meet in the air, time seeming to crawl.
Holding one other, they land feet-first on the ground with no more sound or feeling than a feather.

They have survived, and the elder knight cannot catch them in time; they will escape the castle and find freedom.
Before they leave, however, the boy stops. He has no more use of his sword; his quest is finished.
As if in a final salute to a lifelong battle completed, he throws his blade into the night, letting it spin skyward.

The black knight stands atop the roof, proud of his clever maneuver. He has lost the princess, but forced the boy to die of his own free will: this is truly a sweet victory.
He takes a moment to rest. Though he does not care to admit it, the castle-spanning chase with the boy has tired him. As if to help him forget that fact and remind himself of his victory, he leans over the roof's edge to see the bodies of his fallen foes.

The boy and girl have fled the castle; they are safe.

Below the roof's edge lies a bloody sword and a severed head.

Vocabulary

Sinking
Drifting
Dead
Floating by
Barely there
Frustrated
Blocked
Kept away
Inadequate
Unable
Apathetic (except for her)

Someone give me something happy to write about?

Here I Wonder

Here I wonder what to think
How to feel
How to breathe.

What to choose
How to walk
How to live.

Here I wonder who she is
and If I have already met her.
Is she as I've always dreamed
or something entirely different?

Is this feeling an omen of joy,
or the failed dream of an empty heart?
Should I trust my gut this time
or do my best to forget her?

In truth, I have no choice.
There is no action I can take.

Patience is my greatest ally
And one that I rely on greatly.

Farewell, Husk

This was an assignment in my Creative Writing class. Basically, it's a letter from my spirit/soul to my body, as I'm leaving it at the moment of death. Yes, it is very weird.

-

Let’s be clear; you are not a person.
You have no soul. You are a simple husk; a vehicle for my spirit. And yet, as a vehicle, you were the best I could have asked for.

Remember that time we kicked a door in? That was fun.
How about the time we walked face-first into that wooden board? Yeah, sorry about that. I appreciate you not getting a concussion, by the way.

I’d always wanted you to be taller, that’s true. But you’re not exactly short, and I’m glad for that. You were a bit susceptible to allergies, but hey, that’s not so bad. You never gave me cramps, and fought off illnesses as if your life depended on it. (sorry; morbid humor)

I didn’t always treat you well, but I suppose could have done worse. Your lungs are free of black, and your brain is still intact. In-betwixt this world and the next, my memories are dim. Did you get better as time went on? I hope so.

Farewell, soulless friend. I hope that what few electrons still fire between your brain cells will think kindly of me.
(By the way, I told them I wanted you cremated. Sorry.)

Blood and the Angel

Two knights battle for the life of a young princess. One shines with angelic light; the other is bathed in blood.
With a word and a strike, the blood-knight vanquishes the angel. Now in his death-throes, Lucifer’s seven horned heads are revealed.
Helmet now removed, the brave red knight cradles his beloved.

I Wander Back

My mind wanders back to her.
When I have allowed this in the past, I have been met with disappointment and inadvertent rejection.
Remembering this, I force myself to forget her mischievous smile and flirtatious manner. After all, what does a wolf have to offer a sparrow?
With a touch of bitterness, I make myself cold to her reminders, forsaking the lines upon which we had spoken.
And yet, at some point, my ignorance fails, and her kindness surprises me. I doubt my earlier judgments, and begin to slip into old habits.
I see her affection for her beloved, however, and remind myself that it makes no difference.

Androgynous Boys are Dangerous

A boy and a girl walk side-by-side. The girl ever-giggling, she knows not the truth that lies within her odd companion.

Seemingly the sweetest of lovers, the two are not in perfect harmony. The boy hides a darkness; an inner secret. He does not portray the masculinity of a normal male his age. He finds comfort in the fanciful and feminine. The girl passes this off as his being "special," and not as any real sign of immasculinity. The boy is lying to her; he does not feel any more attraction to her than he does a slab of marble. In truth, he only stays with the girl in a vain attempt to convince himself that he is not what he knows he is.

One day, the girl walks in on the boy during a private moment. In that single second, she discovers the secret that he has worked so hard to keep from her. Stunned beyond reckoning, she runs as fast as her light feet will take her. The boy is not upset, but determined. He gives chase, moving with great speed.

As the girl reaches her car, she fumbles for her keys. Before she can get inside, the boy is standing beside her. With an iron grip, the boy clamps his hand around the girl's neck. "I can't have you telling people my secret," he states with a steely voice.

As the girl's throat reaches its breaking point, a shot rings out from a nearby car. The scattered lead of a shotgun blast slams into the boy's side, and his grip is released. Before the girl can catch her breath once more, a young man pulls her into the car he exited a moment before. She notices the shotgun at his side, and realizes that he is the one who gunned down her former beloved. She begins to open the car door to leave--for she is not a prisoner--but stops when she sees her boy stand up once more. She had hoped beyond all sense that what she had seen was not the truth, but here it stood before her, a testament to her foolish affections:
Her boyfriend was a robot.


For the further adventures of Shotgun Boy and Oblivious Girl, check out my new blog:
The Science of Fiction