There is a tale I’ve heard told about an ancient king. Glendower, the Raven King. He sleeps in the forest somewhere, or so I’ve heard. Waiting for the waker—waiting to join us, the living, once again. Somewhere, Glendower sleeps, dreaming of the day he will be woken. Eager to walk through his lands once again.
Eager to grant the waker a wish.
That’s the tale I’ve heard told.
The tale of The Raven King.
A magical king. A wish-granter. A sleeper whose quiet breaths are full of life.
I’ve heard the tale of that king. Heard it several times, actually.
There’s more to the story than what there appears.
You see, I believe that something isn’t adding up.
There are… things… that can’t be explained by that tale.
Things that we, the listeners, have screwed up.
Things that we got wrong. Continue reading “King of Crows”
“Well… since you’ve come this far, I’ll let you inside—but don’t touch anything.”
“Uh, okay,” I replied.
“Not ‘okay’. You say ‘yes’ like you mean it.”
Huffing, the guy turned and walked back into the cottage. Not even bothering to make sure I was following.
“Shut the door on your way in,” he called over his shoulder, moving down a flight of steps.
I could feel it.
My nerves were bubbling. Oozing. All my veins were dancing, jittering against my bones.
All my life I’d waited for this. Looked for it. Sought after it.
I was finally here.
The Ocean Library. Continue reading “Between the Tides”
It wasn’t safe.
It had never been safe.
As I stare at the climbing trees and listen to the birds toss their remarks back and forth, I realize that.
It’s never been safe here.
And, honestly, I think I knew that all along. Because, really:
This is a jungle, after all.
A burning jungle. Continue reading “Burning Jungle”
Blitzing moon that glares down at the forest, streaking the undergrowth with tendrils of lunar light. Small specks are lit up here and there, disturbing the tranquil dark. Upturning the critters in the wake of the night’s gaze. Always questioning, always wondering.
In the night, there are things that are seen that can’t be unseen. And there are things that are unseen that can be known, and yet, remain unseen. The forest at night is a magical place, a new realm. Home to the darkest of beings, the most silent, the most watchful. Night in the forest is a place, not a time. It is an essence, a creature unto itself.
And there, in the dark.
Sitting between the sparks of moonlight.
Hiding under the gaze of stars.
That’s where you’ll find me. Continue reading “Beyond the Moonlight”
There was a quiet song.
A lull in the void.
Static that, when focused, became edging. Drawing. Alluring. A song that gave promise to stars, and hope to blackholes. It punched through the continuum with gusto, displaying feasts and boasting of something sturdy on the edge of the horizon, something soft lurking at the very back of space itself. A river coaxing the fish out to something bigger, something better. A creek hidden in the foliage. A place to replenish when depleted.
There was a quiet song in the universe. One that I thought I heard only in my dreams.
But, that wasn’t so.
The song was real.
And it was beautiful.
It was loud.
And it was true to its word.
The song I followed into the universe…
It was you.
All along, there was only the one source. The one promise. Just the one.
It was you. Continue reading “Melody Beyond Imagination”
They didn’t speak of him. Not at all.
The king with the white mane.
A notch hanging off his ear.
Ridges gouged around his eyes.
He sat in the corner, silently. Watchfully. His tail swishing mindfully as the others ignored him. Steering clear of him, because of his odd color. His strange scars. Or, maybe, because of the way he seemed quiet. Daunting.
He was an anomaly, honestly. Something to marvel. To ponder. Something to observe, take in, and marvel.
And yet, there he was.
There, in the corner—away from all the others—he sat. Just the tiniest bit of sunlight shrinking in his eye.
The white lion. Continue reading “Waiting For Lions”
It wasn’t easy to get here.
The path is narrow, full of holes. Every step was marred—echoed, really—by the steps of the jungle beasts. By the creatures of this magical forest. I could hear their cries at night, and feel their eyes watching in the day. At some point, the trees gave up on me, gave in. Began reaching for me, choking up on the path ahead. Trying to prevent me from going forward.
Yes, it wasn’t easy getting here.
Not in the slightest.
When the sleeper wakes…
It will be worth it.
Continue reading “Sleeping Wishes”
When I see the red smoke, I count the tendrils.
And, every time, the number is smaller. The smoke climbing higher. The days drawing closer.
They will come for me.
They will come for me.
And, when they do, I’ll be waiting.
I’ll be waiting. Continue reading “What The Smoke Says”
A blinding light that takes over the horizon. That singes the sky. Smoke tendrils curl upward, clawing at the night. Blotting out stars with its thick, angry grasp. With its red hues that dust the bottom of the skyline. That, when followed to its source, turn into something brighter. Something insistent.
This is what we’ve avoided for so long. These burning seas and darkening skies. This lethargic smoke that curls slowly, cruelly, toward the heavens. Humans have steered clear of the edge of the world for so long. Have been afraid of it.
And this is why.
What can we do against seas of fire?
Against black angry skies?
What can we do with such light?
What can we do?
Is it worth it? Whatever lies beyond, is it something to be used? Something we’d want to find?
Who can we find in the throes of this hell? Continue reading “Burning Oceans and Scorching Seas”
Captain’s Log: Day 3212.
We found it. We finally found The Mission. We’ll be climbing aboard soon, doing our best to glean what we can from the surveillance and from the wreckage. But, we know it’s alive.
It’s still here. Continue reading “Submerged”