I can feel you blinding me.
Brilliant, bright light. White against my eyes. Draining the color from the world, eating away the perspective. It seeps, that fluorescence, dragging my vision out from behind my eyelids. Merciless, as you try to disarm me. As you try to cripple me. As you try to force me to yield.
As you force me to face the light.
You suck the color out of everything.
You know that, right?
It’s harrowing, what you do. Pointless.
I’d much rather have washed out colors than this. Rather have nothing—have total darkness, because at least darkness can have variation. At least you can adjust to darkness.
This complete white-out though…
A dull, pale void.
Don’t you think?
I know why you do it.
To desensitize me.
At least, you try.
I think that, in the end, it does the exact opposite of what you intend it to do. Rather than let it wash over me—bleed me out, make me blinding as the sun, blinding as you are—I cling tighter to my shadows. Grip tightening around the dark.
When you combat me with that vivid, piercing light, I don’t give in. Not an inch.
I fight back. Continue reading “Wash Out”
I cleave the building.
Split it in two.
It crumbles, the giant skyscraper. Creaking like an ancient door, cracking like lightning. All of its stories falling, echoing thunder. The building roars as it falls, and people run from it. Completely terrified.
But I don’t stop.
I don’t stop.
I throw another bolt of lightning. Shake the earth with a kick. Yell, and the foundations all shake.
I am not done destroying, not yet.
I won’t be done for quite some time.
This must all come crashing down, you see. These terrors and raging beasts. The creatures that carve out destruction, that lay waste to each other and the beasts of this earth.
I won’t stop until they’re all gone.
Until all this ends.
Until there is nothing but a clean slate left.
This all must end. Continue reading “Beginning”
The day the invitation showed up was the day I knew:
They found me.
And, more than likely, they weren’t going to let me go.
Not this time. Continue reading “Summer Fling Of A Summer King”
The river runs, and it runs, and it runs.
Right through the building. Washing over every floor. Coating all the walls, and filling every hall.
The river runs.
Black tar, river runs.
It builds on the walls. Closes off the doorways. Makes open and shut impossible for them. For us.
Time is running.
Running river, black tar.
Run from the river. The river is running for you.
It runs for you.
Run, run, run from the river.
Run. Continue reading “Spill”
Knowledge is power.
That’s what my old man would tell me, right before he went off to fight. To claim back “what was taken”. To push back against evil. It was the last thing he told me, right before he never returned.
Knowledge is power?
What a load of crap.
Knowledge isn’t power.
Just because you know those lights at the end of the tunnel are a train doesn’t mean you’ll be saved. Knowledge isn’t power.
There are things in this world coming for you. Things that are nearly impossible to stop. Knowledge just lets you know. Makes you understand exactly how much fear you should have. Continue reading “Rise, Helsing”
I knew a genius once. He was my mentor, actually. Taught me, first in high school. Then, once again, when I entered college. And then, again, when I went for my master’s degree. And my doctorate. And again, afterward.
When I became his assistant.
He taught me a lot. A whole awful lot. About tons of things. Theories and science and things you could see.
And things you couldn’t see.
The man I knew was a genius. An absolute genius. It wasn’t his mind that made him that way, or his IQ. No.
It was his determination. His willingness to explore. To find. Discover. He always saw himself as a pioneer. An explorer. Someone who wasn’t afraid of the turning seas. Of never reaching land again.
Because to him, it didn’t matter.
If he could find the unknown, delve into lands unseen…
If he got his answers, then it didn’t matter.
I’ve only just recently come to that conclusion. That understanding. The man I knew was a genius, yes.
But at what cost? Continue reading “When the Warlock Wakes”
Power is not something earned, or something given.
Bricks stacked together, to build monuments. Dynamite stacked on dynamite, to blow through mountains. Metal bolted to metal, to make tanks.
Power is not in you. It’s something you build.
You can build power in anything, with anything. With anyone.
Power is a determination. A mindset.
What’s the difference between wolves and coyotes?
Not what you think it is, I bet.
I’ll tell you.
It’s not in the bite, or the bark, or the way they howl.
It’s in the way they walk. Continue reading “Strength of the Wolf”
Fire and lightning.
They were not happy.
I wasn’t aware that it could come to this. That their tempers would climb so high. That they would stoop so low. As I watched, the earth began to tremble. Humanity began to shake. The foundations of the earth shook angrily at their quarrel.
And I, myself?
What was I doing?
I was watching.
Through every kick and every punch and every strike.
I watched on. Continue reading “Unity Among Us”
I did not raise a family.
When the earth was born, it was born chaotic. Churning endlessly. A depth that swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed. Greedy selfish beasts rose up from the ash and muck, traipsing about with hunger, with lust, with blood on their hands. They cared not for life, nor for death, but wandered endlessly in between. Mouths that chewed and spat, ate but did not swallow. Creatures that wasted, over and over and over again.
What was I to do with that?
What is expected of me?
You think I should raise glory? That I should bring forth morning? That I ought to bathe them in light and wonder and power?
Creatures such as these did not deserve such things. Would only waste them, as they did everything else.
So I did not raise children like the others. Traditionally, the gods’ children would bring wonder and glory and knowledge to the creatures below.
But not mine.
I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
So I did not raise a family.
I raised hell instead. Continue reading “Four Rise In Direction”
A static fills the air, charges it with heat.
And then explodes.
Light and heat burst forth, cracking the air. Yellow or purple or blue explodes before the eyes. Asserting itself with a roar, with fire, with destruction.
What’s more devastating than a lightning strike?
Such a sudden thing. Such a fickle thing.
Here and then gone. A flash and nothing more.
I don’t want to be a lightning strike. Not just a lightning strike. Not when I can be so much more.
We can be so much more. Continue reading “More Than A God”