Cat.

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I wake in the sun.
It warms my back, and I stretch.
Stretch.
I feel the sun in my face, in my hair. It's warm.
I jump down from the window ledge, and as my feet hit the ground I properly wake.
Before that, the doziness of sunlight.
I pad across the tiles in search of food. I'm hungry, in that lazy, not-bothered fashion. 
My nose twitches. 
The sun still plays across my back - long fingers of light moving across room - and it feel it rubbing against my shoulders, a blanket of comfort.
I find no food in this room, so I move back towards the window ledge in the kitchen.
The tiles are a stark, cool contrast against the heat of the sun.
Once again I curl up, my ears settling against my head, my whiskers twitching in pre-sleep anticipation.
My tail flicks idly and I shut my eyes, imprints of the sun performing for the backs of my eyelids. 
The sun warms my fur,
And I sleep.
~H

A Higher Power

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The firmament shook as the hearts therein lost faith. What was once united fissioned, and the Earth's conciliatory counterpart vanished without trace. The substratum of creation tore as beings extraneous fought for control. Watching from within was he who had stood through all ages. From time immemorial had he surveyed existence, relating all he saw to a higher power. And he watched now, as the greedy forces wreaked havoc in their tumultuous scrap for ownership. And it was of this matter that he spoke to the higher power, requesting relief. For he was a watcher only, and could not interfere. The higher power had brought all into existence, the greedy forces in a moment of folly, as well as those of balance in an attempt to rectify the wrong resulting from his lack of judgement. A higher power though he was, perfection was not his nature, and as such, mistakes were still within his power to perform, unwittingly or otherwise. The watcher knew this, had seen this, and had counselled against this. But he was a watcher only, and could not interfere. The higher power listened to that which the watcher brought before him, and reflected upon it.
The watcher, having performed his duty, returned to within.
The ecumenical powers, of which the watcher was one, remained vigilant, eager to be aware despite their inability to act. Through the cosmos the avaricious entities rushed, consuming those hearts that despaired. Still, for each that was consumed, another was recovered as those that were created second, of whose power was harmony, spoke to the anguished hearts.
Yet the firmament continued to shake, and that which was torn asunder could never be fully restored. The watcher understood this, had seen it before. The higher power had been told, and he acted not.
So it was that the worlds created slowly lost faith, for no matter how valorous the attempt to restore balance, disharmony would inevitably win out.
The firmament shook, and crumbled, as the hearts therein lost faith. What was once united had fissioned, and that which had fissioned ruptured. The torn substratum of creation split further, as the ravenous powers overcame the accordant. Watching from within was he who had stood through all ages. And for the first, he wept, powerless as all that he loved sank into the mire of insatiable craving.
The higher power, once so elevated, once so revered by all, turned upon himself. He was no longer elevated, no longer revered. From the highest heights had he fallen, and to the deepest depths he fell, never to return.


~J.L.

The Siege: Part Two

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The giant wall I stood upon shook violently as the men ran at our home. Just as I pushed a ladder that rested against the wall, it tumbled away into the sea of humans, sending a man who was halfway up flying. I turn and parry the sword of a green dressed man behind me, follow up by kicking him in the knee so he loses his footing and thrust my blade through his chest. He screams and lands on the ground dead. I get a sour taste in my mouth as I know I’ll hear his screams in my next sleep.

Looking right towards the ballista I see my men engaged in fierce battle. They seem an equal fight for the enemy, which is bad due to the sheer amount of men they have, we needed to get off the wall. I begin to call out to them but I get cut off by a tall archer beside me, “Missile!” he shouted too late. A huge rock the size of ten men flew through the thick air and exploded in the middle of the wall. Shards of stone flew in every direction as I dived backwards to avoid the blast. Even more men screamed when the initial explosion receded, shouting out for aid because their legs were trapped or they needed help to retrieve someone. Standing up and wincing as my torso pained me I looked forwards at the damage. Most of the top of the sturdy wall was still standing but I could already see it cracking away at the pressure point. The boulder must have tore a hole in the lower half of the wall so there is nothing to hold up the top. I raced forward and shouted “Get off the wall!” at the top of my dry voice to which several of my respectful men obeyed. But still just less than half on my entire battalion were on the other side of the damage to the wall. “Run!” I commanded as two men seemingly jogged over to me. Mere seconds after, another six sprinted across. Suddenly the tremor returned as a second rock pelted into the already crippled wall and penetrated it; launching right out the other side and slowly rolling into the courtyard amongst the debris of our home’s first line of defence. A large chunk of the wall in front of me descended into the pit of attackers who were smashing chunks of it the wall away with bettering rams. Upon the wall as it fell were seven of my men, there eyes staring at me as they fell, longing just to be by my side, and feeling cheated by death as it stole their souls in such an easy way. This left a small proportion of my troops trapped on the other side of the now gaping hole in our wall. Roughly twenty; still fighting off enemy troops who seemed to have aimed their attacks to that side.

“Let’s go rescue our men!” I ordered and my twenty strong followed me down the staircase. As I stepped into the courtyard I noticed three things: A metallic taste in the air which I presumed was the thick stench of blood. Villagers fleeing as the enemy dogs poured into the courtyard via the hole in the wall. And more importantly, a large congregation of red and green soldiers mixed together, slashing, stabbing and shouting. “We need to go through them.” I stated as I turned to face my men. Continuing through the shocking looks I received from one or two I said, “We’ll move through as one impenetrable circle. All facing outwards with our shields in front of us. Agreed?” My men exchanged glances of determination, terror and violence.

“Let’s do it” confirmed a ginger-haired soldier, no more than nineteen years of age. War is a cruel act, I thought.

“Excellent” I exclaimed and turned to face the disarray of fighting men. “On me!” I added and trotted towards the bloodshed.

I pressed against a sturdy man on my left as the scared-looking fighter on my right pressed against me. Pushing our shield arms out-front we aggressively drove through the main body of the attacking group. Green garbed men bounced off our shields as we formed one single body. I occasionally stabbed my sword underneath my shield or over it at the men who refused to budge, I wounded one in the thigh, he fell to the floor and got trampled by our leather boots. Shifting my gaze to my right at the man, I noticed his posture was inefficient; he was unable to defend from high attacks. I was about to tell him when what I thought came true and a blood-stained spear rose above his seemingly useless shield and pushed through a gap in his chain mail above his shoulder. One single scream emanated from him, it was a sanity destroying scream that made every bone in every man shudder. He dropped to the ground and I had no choice to fill in the gap in our now flawed group. Another four men fell before we made it through the pack of fighting which seemed never ending, each one having their life torn from them by a soldier who was one of thousands of puppets controlled by the twisted King Rulf.

We continued up a different, yet identical set of stairs back onto the wall to rescue our men but when we got there, my emotions flipped upside down. Bodies. Everywhere. Mostly men dressed in the red tunics of Hungate. Over half of my soldiers had been slain. Rage aggressively pushed aside reason, emotion and any consideration for my being as I push my way backwards through my appalled men. I turned. “These men did not deserve to die.” I stated. “Each soldier fought for this grand castle and its worthy inhabitants, and in my eyes, each is worth a place next to the Great Lords throne. But now it is up to us. We are going to crush these desecrators into the ground that we walk on; we will grind them into the very depths of Hell with our swords and shields. Let us go face the devil.” I concluded. Turning my back on awed stares from my men, I descended the stairs into the fiery pits of Satan’s glorious bloodshed.

 

>G