I have this wonderful Barbarian/Paladin Halfling character (Flynwann but nicknamed Red) in one of my DnD games. He's a tiny ball of holy rage, a very good and spicy cinnamon bun. During a pretty intense and dramatic moment we ended the game at a cliffhanger, and for days later all I could think about was the characters mindset and mood. I wrote this piece of creative writing after a few days of tumbling it about my head. Enjoy!
Red sat, pacing in his mind. His pulse raced, his breathing ragged. Desperately he willed himself to stillness, but it would not come. It might not ever come again, Red worried. It had taken him years to finally be able to control the roaring water inside him, and in the past few months he had obtained a skill that even impressed himself. But all of that was gone, as soon as they hit the tower. All sense of control over who he was, what he was, gone in just an instant. Gone because of demons.
Red closed his eyes tightly, teeth gritting. He ignored the scalding hot water that raced down his cheeks from his eyes, ignored the grip on his stomach that made him want to vomit everything he had ever eaten. Red prayed, to whomever would listen, to give him relief and peace. To quiet his soul.
But relief wasn’t coming.
Burning in the fire
Fire of the
Uncontrollable rage.
Hours had passed, and Red had tried everything. He tried being still, he tried running in place and he even tried to end the emotional pain by bashing his head into the side of his bedroom. But headache aside, he couldn’t stop the ache in his heart and soul, and Red knew that he could find no peace. His mind raced with everything he felt. He was haunted by visions only he could see, that plagued Red every time he opened his eyes.
The guilt of betrayal.
The horror of murder.
The sorrow at losing a friend.
The shame at stabbing a man in the back.
The rage he felt towards that spider demon bitch.
The loneliness he felt locked in his room.
The shame of betrayal.
The shame...
Red tore at his hair as he wept, beating his small chest with small fists. His red rimmed eyes glared at the prone and unconscious form of Marcus.
“This is all your fault...” Red spoke low, and under his breath. He glared at Marcus; no, not at Marcus but through him. Into the thing that had corrupted him.
Ice turning to water.
People that never cried
In years
Are shedding tears.
“And that’s when I knew, Marcus. That’s when I knew I had no choice.” Red sighed, speaking out loud to the unconscious form. “It was clear that you weren’t free, that you wouldn’t ever be free. Zulie and Rue, they wouldn’t understand. Not like I did. They didn’t understand that you really had died seven years ago...”
Patting the covered head gently, Red continued on. More for himself than anyone else. “That demon took advantage of us. Of children. It used us, and used your good nature, to find freedom in this world. It warped and twisted everything good in you, and forced you to do things you never would have done. It made you into a monster...”
Red choked back a sob as he cradled the head of his former friend. “I’m so sorry Marcus. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough back then, or even now. I’m weak, just a Halfling. Destined to remain here baking bread and serving drinks. I couldn’t ever accomplish anything big in this world. Not like you. Even on your way to death, you’re bringing so many people together I just...”
Red sobbed quietly, cradling the prone head once more.
Flows the icy water
Cold due to melting
Hot due to rage
Mixing every freaking thing
Forming the new river.
Popping the window out as he had done many times over the year, Red slipped out of his home and into the streets. Having done this plenty of times before, he knew which corners to hug and which places to avoid. He knew how to get out of town, and he was doing so in a hurry. It was time to go, Red understood. He couldn’t go back home.
Not anymore anyway. Maybe before they had journeyed to those Undead lands he could have come home. Settle down, worked at the bakery and had a good life. But no longer, that was his past. Red smiled as he felt the backpack weigh against his skin. The shield had been new for the first trip, but now it holstered onto his back and shoulder like a pair of gloves. The sword felt as natural to his hand as his own fingers, and Red had even grown to enjoy the feeling of road dust between his toes. He smelled of smoke and roasting meats, of pine trees and rushing water. He heard the song of the sparrow greet him in the morning, and the booting of the owl killed him to sleep.
Adventuring has grown on Red in ways he hadn’t understood, it filled him with a purpose. His mentor, Aramsham, had always tried to instill into Red a respect and a longing for the world. That there was more than just Three Forks, waiting to be visited. Aramsham had always had a thing for honoring Teos, and said that Red one day would have his eyes opened to the greater world and understand why he respected the God as he did so. Red understood now, and he was determined to make things right.
Red walked confidently out of town, singing and laughing and talking to himself of his plans. Of the adventures he would undertake, of the people he would save, or the demons he would slay. The vengeance he would take on behalf of his fallen friend. Red’s mind began to whirl with the possibilities as he let his feet do the walking, unaware of the direction he walked.
Or the looming tower blocking the stars in the distance ahead.
The river of tears,
The river of rage,
The river of sorrow,
The river of extreme emotions.
The river of uncontrollable emotions.
Dread filled him as he looked up, suddenly seeing where he was. Seeing the vast looming tower that stood before him. His soul ached, longing to flee this place. To find warmth and shelter back home.
But there was no home. There was no going back.
Red held back tears, clenched his stomach. He swallowed his fear, breathing in his dread and exhaling his determination. There was no way but forward. There was no direction but up. There was no rewinding the past, only living the future. Red needed to forge his own path, a path he was sure no one would follow him on. His friends all hated him for what he did, for the wound he gave them all. There was no one waiting for him back behind, there was just forward. The lonely dark forward.
The rushing river in his heart carried him inside. He would sleep here, one last time. One last rest in the tower that had birthed him into this new life, the forward. Forward like the river carried the leaf.
Melting like the ice.
No comments:
Post a Comment