Sunday, July 31, 2011

The Great War

I had another dream. But I know not from whence it came.
I was in the Great War fighting along side my brothers.
I was not a child but a man. Full grown and battle weary.
Our base was set up in a little village that had greeted us with open arms.
They sang our praises and called us their saviors from the enemy.
As I walked through soot stained streets where blood and ash mixed in the muddy waters.
I saw the dead stacked up in burning mounds that stank and stung the eyes.
At the end of the avenue I came to our palace.
We had taken the enemy's lair as our base of operations.
But as I got closer I began to notice a sound.
Not just a sound but many noises accosted my ears.
I soon realized they were screams and wails as if from a great agony.
They were the voices of women.
Opening the doors into the great hall the floors were writhing with bodies.
Soldiers beat and raped women all around.
The women's howls nearly deafening me.
At knife and gun point the men held them.
Thrusting with reckless abandon.
I was now just a boy again.
Standing powerless as the men ripped into their victims.
I tried to pry one of them apart pleading for him to stop.
Their flesh however was united.
Fused as if they were of one body.
I soon realized all of them were connected.
They were a single mass of melted flesh that thrashed all around me.
Then suddenly it stopped moving.
The screams stopped and the women stood.
Their stomachs beginning to bulge out.
Their breasts became plump and bloated with milk.
In a unanimous motion the males gutted the swollen wombs.
Reaching crooked claws inside they drew out the young and dashed them to the floor.
My breath caught and I fell to my knees.
The floor was now crimson as the bodies of the women fell into pools of their own blood.
I cried and closed my eyes.
What did this mean?
"Where has honor gone?" came a tiny thin voice to my sore ears.
My eyes opened to find a small child holding one of the women's hands.
It was pale like new snow in his trembling fingers.
I went for the boy to hold him and he turned to dust in my arms.
I awoke again this time covered in ash.
My blankets had burnt away without leaving a mark on myself.

Saturday, July 30, 2011

The Last Knight

 ***Words from the Author***
I do not know why I wrote the following passage. It is not based on a dream, but it came from a strange sort of spontaneous inspiration. I hope you enjoy. Before you is the Last Knight.
***End Words from the Author***


I dreamed I rode an old winding road that would take me from one place to another.
It was at a crooked and sickly elm hanging over the path where my eyes were caught.
Under the elm slept a man. Or at least it had been assumed that it was a man asleep.
Under layers of rusted armor set with empty sockets that once held jewels.
Out of the closed visor sprang tufts from an old gnarled white beard.
His chest no longer drew breath that is to say he did not move as I passed.
The only movement was the waving of his rotted tabbard in the wind.
I think it once held markings that told of his once noble station.
I stopped in front of his feet, and dropped down from my saddle.
Holding my reins in a hand, my other prodded his side with my rifle.
He did not move, but there was a whistle as the gasses of death escaped and filled the air.
Flies flew to the winds and maggots crept out of hiding.
I wretched to tell the truth. Never had I seen one who was dead and left to rot.
His shield was strapped across his back and it helped to hold him erect.
His sword lay at his side fallen from his grasp.
I wondered if he had tried to hold off death with his now lost blade.
Looking through his visor I saw black sockets swimming with grubs and worse.
As I began to stand and pull away from the carcass it sprang to life.
His sword hand grabbed at me.
My collar was caught and I was drawn to his plated helm his visor pressed against my cheek.
I felt hot wet blood drip from the wound the point inflicted on my soft skin.
His other hand pulled free the visor and revealed his cracked and rotten flesh.
Gnarled brittle lips curled and broke in defiance as he began to speak.
"Where has nobility gone?" he asked in a horse whisper through brown and crooked teeth.
I awoke at this time to find myself in a panicked sweat.
My lungs grasping for air.
I felt my face and found it was wet.
Crimson stuck to my fingers, but there was no wound to be found.