The War

The War

It was a vast expanse of what felt like nothing to me.

One step forward.

“Is anybody there?”

Silence.

I walked through a vacuum. I would call it space, but there was nothing to make me believe in a time or a place where I was.

Everything was dark.

There were no stars, and no lights, though I sensed some planet nearby. I was loathe to determine what planet that may be. A reddish glow emanated from it, filling the pit of my stomach with a glorious dread. And I stepped forward. “Hello?”

I said it with no belief that I would be answered.

It was my own fault.

“Here.”

It was a faint whisper. “Hello?”

But it didn’t answer again. He moved only enough that I would know that he had moved. One word was enough to grasp my lungs. I breathed for him.

Where was I to go?

“I…don’t”

Why can’t I be silent?

Silence.

I walk through the vast emptiness. I have a sense that there is some presence beyond my level of sight. He is watching me. Waiting. For what? I was only quiet, and walking. Where would I go? Or where…what was I to do? He expected some move I am sure, but a wound within prevented my comprehension.

Refusal.

A vast blackness filled my veins. I breathed a trembling sigh inward. Spidery tendrils of flame filled my inward senses, and I dropped. Not outwardly. Something about this vacuum kept me on my feet. Within my outer skin, I, Myself, fell. Collapsed.

My heart was lying on the ground. Whispering to me. Its silence begged me to question. Question what was to become of what I had done.

My head hung down to my chest. Eyes, dark eyes, refusing to lift, closed against the sights, the nightmare.

I welcomed the goblins. Invisible, craggy creatures, climbing all over my skin. Nails pierced my fortress, and they climbed into me. They sneered at my collapsed inner self, climbing on it to higher ground. A grey mass mountain challenged them to surround it. They did. They breathed a lake into its great stones. Land masses moved to welcome their approach, and groaned at the acid invasion. My lips withered into a grimace-like frown. They tightened. I don’t know why. It seemed they were trying to protect something that I was not aware of. I was motionless, save this independent effort of my tight-lips.

Fear.

Black sable shock glancing from my skin. Ants drizzled their percussion through the inside of my fingertips. Silent transfixed. Down with pen and paper in hand. A feather comes from beyond, caresses, kisses my hand. The mouth of stainless steel curves around its dark oozing ink. Each drops forms itself into a curve, a shape, a noun.

Give.

A verb comes from beyond sight. What fear given to the Muse now stopped my hold. Chill full up my veins. It was now that I would go insane.

Low.

I sat to wait where I held the pen just above its mate. Be still my heart, remain apart.

Wait.

No do not despair. Stillness waits. Low I wait. I wait. Why wait? I bow my head. Incline my eyes to inward history.

The blackened sea surges upon a river boat crashing beyond the docks. A little man cries out, “Save me love!” I watch. He rocks. Back and forth through the wave tops. Save me, oh please don”t let me die. He’s old. He would die soon anyway. I am only watcher. I wait. He is in the woods. The boat is not gone. But now he is among trees. He is worn thin-wasted. He sits by a blossoming daisy fire. Flames lick its petals. What would be whose fire? But he still sits and moans. Oh my boat, my soul, my love. Why do you not come?

Your tendrils tightening round killed before I’d come.

My tightened lips tremble. They burst forth as if from some dam damning them to silent melodies. Reverie splits. Cry out. They scream. Pant. Whistle. Bring. But what? Bring what to whom?

No.

Traitorious wretch. No rest for weary man. No treasure for the wounded traveler. What ignorant, what weary sin is this. No mercy for he who’s all.

I am writing a tale.

No you’re not.

What foolish sin is this.

What sin?

What melody composed sin?

What whispered effort betrayal?

Why wait.

“You traitorous wretch,” he said again.

Are you talking to me?

Curious thing that one whose abode lies deep within in a long forgotten wood, could speak outside and bring full nigh problems that won’t be done with.

You know who speaks my friend.

Wait.

Yet he doesn’t look up once. Something in his lap arrests his looks and he toys within his hands.

What looks would mend he then denies. Refuses to comply.

You traitorous one. Judas!

What?

You look your heart over once, thrice, see. What wounded purpose malpractice there may be. Tightened lips curl into anger’s grimace. What right have you to say so, insignificant creature?

Who waits.

You stupid, spineless man, who lives in naught but me, and wishes to hold some semblance of commandery? But no I will not live in one’s cursed angry spell. What scrupulous curse one might endorse so against my heart.

What. Well go now. Peace be to you. For now I hope to see you again soon.

Pursed lips goes above and grasps a savage grasp. The pen gasps for breath under her strangling aggresses. No, teach him, I will. She says within and gives no respite. While drops of words and ink like curds glops upon pen’s mate.

It’s perfect.

Exclaim pride in one’s own expert doses. Moses and roses supposes. What of Moses.

Whisper comes. Tome. Tome. No. Incorrect, lingering. Flee. No. No.

No. Oh no, my dear, now you know.

A widened snake of blackened flakes wither up from below. Comes to usher a man in seaside now below.

No!

One tragic moment passed.