It was dispassionate.
People lived their lives, moving like ants. Robotic, focused. Standing in line, following orders, doing what they were instructed. Moving wholly and completely within the confines of what was created for them.
As I said:
Moving through an ant farm.
This world created falsely. A controlled environment.
The world isn’t like that.
Not at all.
The world wasn’t meant to be so dispassionate. So hungry.
Man was not mean to be so greedy.
And when the skies fell?
When the earth shook?
The mountains flowed with bubbling, roiling rage?
They realized that.
We were not meant to be so dispassionate.
We were meant to be more.
We weren’t meant to watch for saviors, or wait for hope to be delivered on a platter. Weren’t meant to be idle, or vacant.
We were meant to be heroes. Continue reading “Inferno”
They say he died in the middle of that small, small pond. Defending a human child from some wild beasts. They say he died valiantly against a manticore—or maybe it was a drakken. They say that, when he died here, the pond grew. Ten feet longer, eons deeper. A small island sprouted in the midst of the pond, right in the center. Right where he took his last breath. A small island formed, and then, atop that small island, an oak tree grew. Tall and grizzled looking. Branches reaching outward, arms open, as if ready to embrace any who tread upon that small island.
That’s not true, is it?
That small island was not meant for just anyone.
It was meant for only a special someone.
Only meant for one.
One who seeks. Continue reading “Oak Speaks”
Magic is, inherently, selfish.
Taking the world and twisting it to make something of your own—twisting reality to make a thing you find more appealing—that is the nature of magic. The nature of fiends.
The nature of faeries.
And what an overwhelming, overpowering, magic it is.
That was what he’d told me. How he’d explained himself. And I told him something else. Something different.
Faeries are not the only ones with magic.
Continue reading “Kindly Magic: Part II”
Being a hero was no easy job.
That’s why I never really wanted it in the first place.
Fighting crime? I was okay with that. Getting shot at? Again, not something that really concerned me. Running into dangerous situations? Fiery buildings? Crumbling structures? Yeah, I can do that. I can do all that, no sweat. Easy as pie.
This part of the job?
This was why I was so reluctant. Why I, in part, kind of hated being a hero.
Because heroes do all the dirty work. Continue reading “A Hero’s Mercy”
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”
This place is so cruel.
Light shining only through darkness. Day only reaching out after the light. Beauty only existing because ugly things take root here.
This world is so cruel.
And I’ve known that. For so long—all my life in fact—I’ve known it. Lived it. Experienced it.
Why did I think I’d get away from it?
That I could outrun this, my greatest fear, and still reach the light?
Kind of stupid, really.
What a dunce. Continue reading “Dive”
I don’t know how to describe the question. How it takes shape in my mind. All I know is that it envelopes. Folds over and over and over, creating the ridges of my mind. Turning endlessly.
I’ve seen things man.
I’ve seen waves crashing against rocks. I’ve seen bullets hitting walls. I’ve seen fists hitting flesh.
I’ve seen things that are strong.
And I’ve seen things that are stronger.
Bulls fighting cars. Men fighting women. Evil battling against good.
I’ve seen them.
I’ve seen them all.
And when I see these things, I collect them in my mind. Mark them down. Car beats bull. Good beats evil. Mom beats angry, teenage-angst behavior of son. The winners are clear, and concise, and each one is not strong because they are full of muscle or full of anger or full of pride.
They’re strong because…
I don’t know.
Guess that’s why the question exists.
Am I right? Continue reading “Dragon’s Might”
A present is a present is a present. The fact that someone is thinking of you enough to give you something should, in and of itself, give you something wonderful. That, in itself, should be enough.
Sometimes what you’re presented with isn’t enough. Continue reading “The Finest Present”
Everyone has something that they absolutely, positively love. Like the sky or the sun or cold nights or Dr. Pepper.
I adore surprises.
Imagine it: you’re going about your day, and then a wind of change sweeps you up. You’re minding your own business and then wham! you’re given this opportunity. To change the day, or to add to your day, or to bring yourself or someone else happiness.
The idea is absolutely appealing to me. Every surprise is a gift. Bad ones, good ones, doesn’t matter. They’re all gifts, a tool you weren’t holding the moment before. Sometimes the tool you’re given is wonderful, and sometimes you think it’s useless. But then, you put it in your belt and, surprise, you use it later.
Every surprise can turn into a good surprise.
That what really makes them surprises.
Though, I have to admit…
Sometimes, a surprise is a little bit more than that. It doesn’t change your day.
It changes your world. Continue reading “Let Me Be Surprised”