Narzack

I liked the Watchmen movie.  In fact, I liked the change they made to the ending. 

Narzack

Page six has Lemmy and Bad News?!

That's a little too much awesome for me.

Narzack

I'm so proud of my little brother.

Narzack

I have to listen to stupid country all day at work.  Dumb ol' PA.  One day, while listening to stupid country, I heard the Team America song, like for REALSIES.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6p0inCnrzio

Narzack

            The rain drummed a staccato tattoo on the tree-tops.  Kellin Kardiphos sat cross-legged on the leaf covered ground, watching the lazy progress of a determined caterpillar.  Dutifully journeying across the ground, it scaled logs and rocks with a fascinating single-mindedness.  Not even the massive drops of water deterred the caterpillar’s march.

            Kellin watched it for an hour, letting the warm rain soak through his clothes.  A sudden crack of thunder startled him from his reverie.  He stood, brushing twigs and branches off his legs.  He stretched, enjoying the pleasurable pops and cracks of his bones.  Sparing one last glance at his tiny friend, Kellin began the long walk home.

            Ten minutes later, Kellin strode from the forest, amidst sudden sunshine, setting eyes upon home.  Vesiddry was a small village, a hamlet, really.  It was a place of joy, of laughing children and smiling mothers, proud fathers.  He made his way down the main street, waving at the tailor, the baker, and the butcher.  He passed a small house with children kicking a ball back and forth to each other.

            Home.

            He opened the front door, the scent of an apple pie greeting him.

            “Kellin, is that you?”

            “It’s me.”  Kellin thought he heard a hint of distress in his mother’s voice.  Frowning, he followed the sound of her voice into the kitchen.  There she sat, eyes moist, fingers clenched.  Mother.  Maris.  She was beautiful. Her hair was silver, the lines on her face faint.  Her eyes were usually soft and kind.  She- Mother, Maris, creator- looked at Kellin with worry, a blasphemous intruder, in her eyes.

            “What’s wrong?”  Panic suddenly spiked in his chest.  He’d never seen her look at him like that, as she was frightened of something, something unspeakable.

            “Ailish is missing.  She didn’t come home last night, Kellin.” 

            Impossible.

            “What are you talking about?  She didn’t come home at all?  No one has seen her?”  Kellin’s heart stopped.  The room was suddenly very cold, the scent of apple pie sinister and foreboding. 

            “Yes, she left before night fall last night, told her parents that she was going for a walk, and hasn’t been back since.  Do you have any idea-Kellin!”  Her words echoed in an empty room.  Kellin was gone, the front door slamming shut.  She slumped back in her chair.  “Kellin.  My son.  I wish I could take your coming burden from you.”  She bowed her head and wept.

 *************************

            He ran, fear giving him strength.  Down Main Street, feet pounding the ground like the blast beats of a drum.  Past the tailor, baker, and butcher.  His breath came in ragged gasps, but he forced himself to continue on, to go faster, harder.  He hurled himself down the street, the houses and trees becoming a blur.  He sped out of town, and headed east, running, running, not stopping, not slowing.  Over a stream.  Into the tree line.  Branches whipped his face, bark tore his skin.  His lungs burned, his legs slowed, pulling him down.  He stumbled.  A rock bashed his knee, he tumbled down an incline. 

            He rolled to a stop, heaving, coughing, legs boiling.  His eyes shut to a world of pain, flashes exploding behind his eyelids.

            “Kellin?  Are you okay?”

            Ailish.  He opened his eyes, pushing himself to a sitting position.  Good, good Ailish.  He looked her over, pale skin, red hair.  Soft, delicate features.  Pretty, nice, bonny.

            He felt his breath return.  The fear faded.  Panic subsided. 

            “Yeah, I’m fine.  I just stumbled a bit, that’s all.”  He stood, brushing himself off.

            “You’re sweating, Kellin.  And you have cuts all over you.  And you’re filthy.”  She brushed his arm, dislodging a few stones and branches.  She smiled at him, a lovely vision of purity.  “You poor boy, come sit.  Let me clean you up.” She smiled again, but this time, Kellin saw the sadness that was hiding behind the radiance.  And he saw the streaks through dirty cheeks. He saw the faint trembling of her lips.

            “Ailish, what’s wrong?  You’ve been crying.  And your parents are worried about you.  No one has heard from you?”

            “You found me, Kellin.”

            “That’s because I know about this place.  We’ve never told anyone about the Wishing Well.  I mean, that we come here.  I knew that if you were anywhere, you’d be here. I. . . I was worried.”

            “I’m okay, Kellin,” she said as she led him to the deep pool the locals called the Wishing Well.  “I read last night, at the library, that if you look into the well with a pure heart, you’ll see your destiny.  So, I came here to find out if it was true.”  She became quiet, silently dipping her hand into the water and scrubbing the grime from Kellin’s bare skin. 

            He felt as if something was required, some word, but he couldn’t think of it.

            “Well, did it work?”

            She took a moment before speaking, washing her hands in the pool and turning him to face her.  They sat on the edge of the pool, facing each other, one in fearful ignorance, the other in terrified knowledge.

            “Ailish, what did you see?” 

            She closed her eyes, a tear slipping out from under her eyelids.  Her lower lip quivered, and when she spoke, there was a catch in her voice.

            “I saw you, Kellin.  Broken and alone.  I saw my parents crying.  You were holding me in your arms, and you were shaking and screaming and in pain.  I could tell you were, somehow.  I don’t know, I just knew.  I. . . I think I was dead, Kellin.  I think you were holding me as I died.”  She stopped, and buried her face in her hands, shuddering.  Kellin, heart racing and breath short, pulled her into him as she sobbed.  He stroked her back as her body shook. 

            “It wasn’t real, Ailish.  It was just a dream.  You probably fell asleep and dreamed it.”  Even as he spoke his lie, he knew it wasn’t true.

            She pulled away from him and looked into his eyes, tears still running down her face. 

            “That’s not all.  I saw something else.  I saw a shining figure that sparkled like a star.  There were beautiful colors streaming from it.  The figure knelt down and touched you.”

            He waited, unwilling to hear the any more.

            “And that was it, Kellin.  That was all I saw.”

            They were silent for a few moments.  Kellin, feeling torn in two, looked at his closest, best friend.

            “It was a dream.  Nothing more.”

            “I hope so, Kellin.  But, it was strange.  Because seeing that shining figure, it kind of filled me with a sort of sadness.  Sadness and a strange, peaceful hope.  I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”  She stood, wiping her tears.  As Kellin looked at her, she seemed to change.  She seemed to have aged almost imperceptibly, become unspeakably beautiful.  As if her sadness and grief had brought out all the tragic, heart-breaking beauty in her.

            Not knowing what else to do, Kellin stood, as well, and embraced her.  She melted into him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

            “I feel safe with you, Kellin.”

            “I won’t ever let anything happen to you,” he whispered, clutching her desperately.

            They stayed there the rest of the day, and through the night.  They spoke of being young, of becoming old, of their memories of the past and dreams of the future.  They played and laughed and acted like the children that they were. 

            As dawn broke, they both left their secret place.   Cold, malicious eyes watched them leave, planning, plotting.  Hating.