The Moonlands

It was dark. Hollow.

As I took the steps precariously with my limited eyes, I could feel them. Boring into me. Stars that winked, even in the dark. Unseen eyes that knew what I did not. Whose eyes understood further than my own could ever hope to reach.

Those eyes on me—knowing, waiting, watchful eyes—I continued the dark trek.

Entering the Temple of the Moon. Continue reading “The Moonlands”

Churning

Rest will come soon.

It’s the only thing that keeps me going. Makes me able to take the next step, or any step at all, for that matter.

Soon.

The wind is chilly today. Biting from the back of its own throat. Gnawing at my sleeves, at my boots. Covering over my coat.

It burns my nose. Stings my eyes.

Good.

It just means that I’m still making it. That I’m not there yet.

I’m still alive. Continue reading “Churning”

Rest in Peace

“What’s the best method then?”

She sighed, and her earrings fluttered with the movement. The beads and pearls shaking as her head wobbled.

“I’ve no idea. There are just… so many ways we could go about this. Picking the best will be difficult.”

“Then what would you go with?”

There was silence in the room. Silence, except for the screaming.

Though, Jethro assumed only he could hear that. After all, the spirits were only in his own head. Trapped there. In all likelihood, he was the only one who heard the screams.

The lady scratched at her arm.

“I’d go with an ax.” Continue reading “Rest in Peace”

Tired

I think I was just tired.

Tired of the fear.

Tired of the waiting.

Tired of trying to gain something that never really mattered in the first place. Something I didn’t need to find with them. Something that was more easily found elsewhere.

Yeah.

I was probably just tired. Continue reading “Tired”

Weaks and Weeks Without Sleep

Sleep is an enemy. An enemy of the weak.

I’m weak.

I’ll admit that.

But, only to myself.

Other people don’t see it. They don’t know how weak I am. How I reject sleep. They think I’m hardworking, that I’m invincible. Unstoppable. Camera crews kill each other for shots of me, and interviewers plague my phone begging for just a second of my time.

They think I’m strong.

The strongest.

But I can’t sleep.

Not because I don’t want to–because I do. Like hell, I do. I’d give my soul for sound nap, and I’d give three lifetimes over for the chance of a full night of rest. But, deals with the devil weren’t my specialty.

So I don’t sleep.

I don’t sleep because I always dream.

I always dream. Continue reading “Weaks and Weeks Without Sleep”