Stories

              His pants dirt stained and torn up so that they could barely be called as such. While his feet were wrapped in wraps of cloth that used to constitute as a shirt. His ribs pressed unhealthy from his chest. His hair used to be a straight deep black, but now a slime of mud and leaves matted his hair together in rugged tails. 
              Fire…..heat…..flame….warmth what was I thinking about again. No! Only think about fire…..blaze…explosion. A loud burst slammed the ragged child into a rock which melted on impact. Smoke erupted from his cloths and crimson red flames wrapped about the child like a cloak destroying everything it touched but him. The flames commanded the attention of all things. The trees shook with fright at the licking flames. Animals ran, slithered, and crawled away in fear. Even the rocks envied the animals their appendages for which to flee with.

              The child tried to stand but slipped and fell down again in the pool that was molten rock. Heat radiated the area causing the snow to turn to rain and the rain to sizzle away all before touching the ground. Leaves burst into fire at the heat of the very air. Snow on the outside radius of the heat wave; ash swirling on the inside. What was once what city folk would call a winter wonderland quickly became something similar to the aftermath of a volcano.

None of this registered to the crimson cloaked child only the pain that rippled through his chest. A swelling reaching from his fingertips to his toes racked his body with pain each time his heart beat. His mind focus on one thing…heat…flame…warmth…what was I thinking about---pain rippled down his body breaking his thought. He shook his head and continued his insane chant. Flame….burning…as long as I think of this the pain lessens.

His head exploded in pain and he could feel a tear of something run down his face. He put a shaking bony hand up to his face. Blood, of course I haven’t cried since that time. Will I live through this? I can feel a pain in my chest but it’s not the same pain of the pressure I feel through my whole body. I’m scared to die. I don’t want to. no..No…NO!

He could feel the anger replace fear and condense whatever flowed in him. Then it hit him with a horrible torrent of agony in his left eye. A fine mist of blood erupted into the ashy air quickly turning into a column of white flame shooting up into the sky centered on the child’s eye. A shock wave of flames exploded ripping what was left of the burned trees out of the ground and sent them flying.

A floating island home to hundreds of thousands was struck by the beam. To compare it to a hot knife cutting butter is to compare a torch to the sun. The white beam didn’t tear or even burn a hole into the flying city but simply went through it as if the layers of metal and rock didn't exist. In fact the very moon itself thanked its cousins the stars that it was out of the path of complete destruction.

Then it was gone, the light, the fire, all of it. A crater of ash stood out in the wintery forest like an ugly scar. In the ash and molten rock only one thing lived. A small child curled up on the ground clutching his left eye and staring blankly at the ash slowly falling. His good eye saw nothing yet saw something. Light from the fireplace dancing shadows across a grizzly face. He felt nothing but remembered something. Warmth from the fireplace soaked into his skin. He heard nothing but…yet there was something. “And so Earnon the cursed was banished from the town.”

Firelight danced across the tavern room playing off a grizzled face. Smoke drifted from the man's pipe and wrinkles crackled on his face as he slowly swept his gaze across his audience. Children wide eyed in interest filled the floor in front on him. A few parents sat on chairs in the back next to the regulars who always came for dinner.

The man inhaled from his pipe and swept his gaze exhaling. Smoke obscured him from the audience and his words took on a deeper tone as if some other being was talking. “Like all others that came before him he thought he would die. So he started walking. He did not care where he went and just disappearing into the woods. Months he traveled through the land until he collapsed from hunger unable to move. Earnon laid there starving and on the fifth day driven insane with hunger he started eating the very leaves on the ground. Luck favored him though and there was found a magic leaf that cured him forever of his need for food. The leaf gave him his strength back and It was then that he came to his senses and the fog lifted from his mind.”

The grizzled man swept his hand through the hanging smoke dissipating it. “And he looked around for the first time realizing he was lost. Knowing he was not welcome back home he asked the earth to make him a house. The earth had watched him banished from his home and took pity on him. A castle of stone rouse out of the ground and a door opened for him. A voice drifted from the doorway calling him in.”

The grizzled man blinked as if waking up from a dream. The firelight seemed to dim and his face sank into shadows. He coughed once before saying “It is getting late.” The words signaled an end of his story telling and a ripple of disappointed murmurs filled the smoky tavern.

The man waved his hand fending off the complaints “My mouth is a touch dry this night. How about next seventh day come back and we shall revisit Earnon the World breaker's story. ” The storyteller put his empty mug on a wooden stool next to him and cleared his throat. An old move the townspeople were well accustom too and he watched coins clink into the mug.

             Most everyone had left as the hour was growing late. Bill the storyteller decided it was time to retire to his rooms and nearly tripped over one child who still hadn't moved. The child scrambled to stand stammering apologies. “Norman what are you still doing here?”

              Norman looked at him then quickly dropped his look to the ground. He shuffled his feet a little before mumbling “Just thinking.”

              Bill looked at Norman knowing him as one of the kids who came to every story night. He was about 10 seasons if he remembered. Norman's head came to Bill's chest but was scrawny for his height. His hair was a deep black trimmed short. The most catching feature though was his eyes that held a leafy green hue that seemed to mesmerize anyone looking into them. Then again no one did because of his extreme shyness.

              Bill pressed on “Thinking about what?”

              Norman shuffled a few more times before answering “The story.”

              Bill knew if he got him talking he would continue on his own “What were you thinking about the story?”

              “That magic leaf.” Norman mumbled “It has to be the Mage flower. My mom told me about it. It has some kind of magic in it that the mages far far away drink as a tea. She says that it is like food for them.” Normans voice slowly rose certainty  “And not only that. In a lot of other stories I’ve heard there is always something that is true.” 

              Bill kneeled to the ground, looked into Norman's eyes, and whispered “Let me tell you a secret. Every story is only the truth told lots and lots of times. And each time it's told it gets just a little bigger. So every story you hear should teach you something.”

              Norman's lips pursed then he said “Then I never want to be a mage.” he nodded agreeing with himself.
              Bill smiled and stood up “It's getting late you better get home to your smart mother.” He patted Norman on the head and then gave him a push to suit his words. With all the energy of youth Norman turned his stumble into a run and quickly bolted out the door.

Author's Note

Might be a little too graphic at beginning.

Reviews

[Elizabeth Marie O'neil-..]

"In fact the very moon itself thanked its cousins the stars that it was out of the path of complete destruction."
^ Loved this part! Very descriptive and catching. I was pulled in.

Most of all, I agree with Jax91, the transition from the kids point of view to the old man's at the tavern was smooth and fitted nicely into your story. All in all, it was good. Write more and get it up here!

[jax91]

I don't think it's graphic in the beginning, the details got my attention. Also, I liked the switch from the woods to the storyteller because it does not feel forced. It was almost like watching a movie, then the camera switching it to present time. Good story.