03. Light

Karn breathed deeply the stench of burning homes and fresh blood. In spite of himself, it exhilarated him. What am I becoming? He thought, one clear, resounding thought shining through the barely-concealed blood lust.

"What do you get, Jamy?" Karn was surprised at how bestial his own voice sounded to him. Another sure sign of my rapidly accelerating Descent. The thought was grim.

"What do you get for this. . . this horror?" He whispered the last word, wishing for a more descriptive one as he surveyed the newly-wrought carnage. His newly-wrought carnage.

Jamy stood straight, looking every bit the knight that she was in her gleaming armor. Karn had once longed to wear such armor--the emblem of the highest tier of The Gwinthian Order. Now, the thought was more and more disturbing as the days went. He'd never wear that armor. That thought, at least, was a happy one.

It was, however, quickly banished by another: Wretchedmen would never be anything but tools in the Knights' cruel hands.

Suddenly angrier than he could ever remember being, Karn repeated his question with a guttural growl. "What do you get for all of this, Jamy?"

She frowned, a sign of more-then-mild displeasure from the usually apathetic knight, and sent out a soothing wave of Light toward Karn, quieting his anger momentarily and making him slightly more human than he had been moments before. She stared at him coldly, then finally answered, "Obedience, Wretch." Her tone was flat, but there was a sudden fire in her eyes as she added, "We buy obedience to The Light with the blood of the wicked. You know this."

Karn grunted and stared at the bloody blade in his still-clenched fist. It seemed so much lighter than it had just days before. His Descent, it seemed, was indeed as rapid as Jamy had foretold. Of course, he wasn't surprised. Under her destructive tutelage there had been no other option but a quick Descent into Wretchedness.

His slower-than-usual mind finally asked, "And who decides what wicked is?"

She smiled at that. Even with dulled senses, Karn felt a chill at the sight of it. "God." She said simply. "Now come, Wretch. We have business in Geran." With that, she was off, obviously expecting to be followed.

Karn trudged after her, tired of resisting and hoping that the movement would kick start his mind. His body was larger than he was used to--another side effect of his Descent. As a result, he was stronger, a tad slower, and, it felt to him, much hardier. It was useful; he was, after all, to become a tool for mass killing.

"God?" He asked as they walked through the wreckage of the small village. Between Jamy and he, the village of just over one hundred souls had been all but obliterated. Small shacks lay in ruin, many still smoldering. The flames were a sharp memory to Karn--he'd been entranced by them to the point of distraction. Jamy had punished him for that. The bodies were less unsettling than part of his mind told him they should be. As it was, they were just another fact of the scene--no matter how gruesome.

"Yes, Wretch. God. The All-Powerful One. Our Ruler. The Infinite Mind. The Light." She sounded bored, as always, and Karn figured that she probably was. Jamy rarely found entertainment in much of anything.

"Do you know Him?" Karn stumbled over the words as he spoke them and cursed himself inwardly for it.

Jamy waved a hand over her shoulder. "I've seen him at court many times. He has addressed me but once. Now, silence, Wretch. Let me walk in peace."

Something seemed wrong with that to Karn, but he couldn't place what. A part of his mind seemed to be screaming at him, but he couldn't quite make it out.

"Yes, Jamy." He simply answered, following her into the Oblivion portal she had just opened. A single crisp thought broke through as he felt himself tugged through the Void:

Why should a God keep and attend a court?

02. Love

I'm afraid that I may never understand someone like Ben. The sheer purity of his love for Charlotte is both inspiring and disheartening. I'm afraid that, were she responsive, she wouldn't be able to love him as he deserves. Maybe, in some twisted sense, that is the reason for the current state of things.

Charles knocked on the manor door with a heavy heart. "Ben?" He called. "Ben, it's Charles. Please let me in!"

After a few moments, Charles hung propriety and let himself in. He found Ben in his study alone with his thoughts and an empty bottle of liquor. His eyes were red and bleary, whether from the alcohol or his recent loss, Charles couldn't be sure. He assumed it was both.

In the year that he had known Ben, Charles had never once seen him drink or appear disheveled. He was always proper to a fault, clean cut, and cheerful. Charles couldn't say that any of those three were true of him at the moment.

He stopped in the doorway and stared at his closest friend completely at a loss for what to say. "Ben. . ." He started, but found nothing more to add. He walked into the study and sat in one of the plush armchairs, waiting for the other man to register that he knew he had even entered the room.

"I'm going to see Charlotte today, Charles. It's been over two years. Two years, my friend. Can you believe that? Two years apart and she's been faithful. You know, she didn't even know if I'd make it home in one piece and she still waited for me. That's love, if I've ever seen it. I'm a lucky, lucky man." Ben looked up at Charles with a glimmer in his eyes and a smile on his now-ruddy face. "I haven't sent word that I'm coming home. I think I'd like to surprise her. Do you suppose that's wise?"

Charles swallowed the lump in his throat as he replied, "Yes, Ben. It's very romantic. She'll. . . She'll love it. She loves you, after all." The role he was playing stung him deeply. Since Charlotte's death one week ago, he had been replaying the same day in his mind endlessly--the day he came home from the war and found Charlotte in a vegetative state. That had been five years prior to the day Charles met Ben.

Ben had never let go of her. At great personal expense, he had moved her into his manor, kept a doctor on call at all times, and had personally seen to her every need. For the better part of six years, Ben had kept up hope where others could not. He'd been waiting for a miracle, but hadn't received what he'd expected. Instead, he got extra time with her, he said.

It pained Charles to see the cheerful way that he had always said those words. He had been sincerely grateful for the Charlotte he had come home to. Charles had never quite understood why. He figured that he never would.

And now, she was gone.

Unable to view the scene any longer, Charles excused himself and went home, swallowing his tears and praying silently for the strength to help his friend. He wasn't sure where he would find it, but he was sure that if he sought it diligently it would come.

He stared, not for the first time, at the letter he had found while going through Charlotte's possessions after the funeral. Again, Charles sobbed as he read the letters words and thought of his dear friend, Ben. He had never known Charlotte, but after reading the contents of her unsent letter to Ben, he knew all he would ever need to know: Charlotte hadn't waited for him.

She had, in fact, become all but engaged in his absence--a state that, sadly, only ended after the accident that led to her comatose state. Her betrothed had left her side shortly thereafter; he hadn't cared much for a veritable vegetable, it turned out. Charles hadn't yet had the heart to tell Ben.

He had, however, resolved to make the truth known to him at their next meeting. It only seemed right.

Maybe it was too little, too late; Ben's manor was naught but ashes the very next day.

C.R.E.

01. Introduction

The Pontiac swerved as its tires hit the gravel-ridden shoulder of the country highway.

James Landwell swore under his breath and corrected his course with a light turn of the steering wheel.  "Sorry," he said to the woman sitting next to him, "it's been a long day, I guess."  His voice was even and his tone unconcerned, though his day had been anything but normal.  The woman just nodded.

She was an enigma, to say the least.  She was tall for a woman, with platinum blonde--almost white--hair, and a blank, almost vacant expression on her simple but strangely drawing face.  Were it not for the way she periodically answered his questions with a cutting, powerful tone, James wouldn't have been sure that she wasn't some sort of high-functioning autistic.

"I know this road."  James said, almost to himself.  "It just goes up to The Point and dead ends.  Are you sure this is the right way?"

She nodded once more.  It was a curt movement, more along the lines of an inclination of the head.  "Yes, I am sure.  Thank you for your concern."

So formal, he noted as he gave her a sideways glance, impeccably dressed, and posture that wouldn't be out of place in some medieval court.  She wore a long trench coat over what looked to be a striking sapphire dress and heels that made James' calves hurt just by looking at them.  She moved with a quiet grace but spoke with a marked rigidity, as if it made her uncomfortable.  She was odd--but commonplace, somehow.  Had she not approached him, he probably never would have noticed her.  As it now stood, James was sure that he would have a hard time forgetting the mysterious woman.

She had approached him as he was leaving Jennings and Sanderson, the law firm where he had just been made a partner, and informed him that she was in need of assistance.  "You will be handsomely rewarded."  She had said.

James hadn't even given it a second thought.  He had felt somehow. . . compelled to help her.  It wasn't the promise of a reward--such things scarcely mattered to James--it was just as though nothing else had made any sense.  He was starting to have second thoughts now, however, as the eeriness or the woman truly hit him.  A thought occurred.  "I never got your name, miss."

She turned to him, a look of light surprise showing on her otherwise empty visage.  "Meleeah."  Her tone was less cutting this time and more amused.  James couldn't place why that unsettled him, but it did.  "And yours?"

"Ah.  I'm terribly sorry, miss.  I'm usually not one to ask for someone's name without introducing myself.  I'm James."  He had been under the impression that she had already known his name, but how could she have?

She smiled at that, again unsettling James.  "James."  She tried it out.  "It's nice."

"Thanks."  He replied.  Growing up, the nicknames had come and go, never sticking.  His father had made it clear when he was just a boy:  "You," he had said, "are James Allan Landwell, III.  Not Jim, Jimmy, or any other such nonsense."  It had always stuck with him.

They drove in near silence for the next few minutes and finally arrived at The Point.  James knew it as a local make out stop for teenagers and the like, and didn't understand why a woman such as this would need to come up here.  With him.  It was a simple overlook of the city of Grenville populated only by a single massive oak tree.

"This is the place, James.  I thank you."  Meleeah said with a cool smile.  She opened her door and was about to step out as she added, "As for your reward, please follow me for a moment.  You may want to turn your vehicle off.  It may take a moment."

James complied again without thinking about why he did so so willingly.  He loosened his tie a bit more than truly necessary, and followed after the strange woman, holding a hundred questions on his tongue.

"I am glad that it was you, James."  She turned to him as they reached the gnarled trunk of the ancient tree.  "That I found, I mean.  A Seeker has to be special.  I feel something. . . different in you than the others I have met.  I am not quite sure what that means."

James paused and stared at her with an odd look.  She hadn't seemed crazy.  Odd, sure, but sane enough.  "I'm sorry?"  His usually calm tone had been replaced by a confused and slightly worried one.  She carried no purse, but that coat could have hidden any number of weapons.

She closed the ten foot gap between them so quickly that James had no time to react as she threw her arms around him.  "Gheret!"  She cried just before she planted her lips on his and kissed him deeply.

For a moment, James was stunned.  The very next, however, he felt a burning in his chest that quickly spread to every part of his body.  What a kiss!  He thought, in spite of himself.

In a matter of seconds, everything went dark.

C.R.E.

Taking Up The Challenge

Welcome to A Meager Pen--an aspiring author's writing blog. If you stay a while, I'm sure you'll find that one of my key vices is a common one: a lack of motivation that leads quickly to an overabundance of procrastination; I'm here to work on that. To start myself off, I've taken up a bit of a challenge: one hundred themes in fifty days. These I will try to fill with bits of free-writing and maybe some poetry. It's sure to be an adventure.

1. Introduction
2. Love
3. Light
4. Dark
5. Seeking Solace
6. Break Away
7. Heaven
8. Innocence
9. Drive
10. Breathe Again
11. Memory
12. Insanity
13. Misfortune
14. Smile
15. Silence
16. Questioning
17. Blood
18. Rainbow
19. Gray
20. Fortitude
21. Vacation
22. Mother Nature
23. Cat
24. No Time
25. Trouble Lurking
26. Tears
27. Foreign
28. Sorrow
29. Happiness
30. Under the Rain
31. Flowers
32. Night
33. Expectations
34. Stars
35. Hold My Hand
36. Precious Treasure
37. Eyes
38. Abandoned
39. Dreams
40. Rated
41. Teamwork
42. Standing Still
43. Dying
44. Two Roads
45. Illusion
46. Family
47. Creation
48. Childhood
49. Stripes
50. Breaking the Rules
51. Sport
52. Deep in Thought
53. Keeping a Secret
54. Tower
55. Waiting
56. Danger Ahead
57. Sacrifice
58. Kick in the Head
59. No Way Out
60. Rejection
61. Fairy Tale
62. Magic
63. Do Not Disturb
64. Multitasking
65. Horror
66. Traps
67. Playing the Melody
68. Hero
69. Annoyance
70. 67%
71. Obsession
72. Mischief Managed
73. I Can't
74. Are You Challenging Me?
75. Mirror
76. Broken Pieces
77. Test
78. Drink
79. Starvation
80. Words
81. Pen and Paper
82. Can You Hear Me?
83. Heal
84. Out Cold
85. Spiral
86. Seeing Red
87. Food
88. Pain
89. Through the Fire
90. Triangle
91. Drowning
92. All That I Have
93. Give Up
94. Last Hope
95. Advertisement
96. In the Storm
97. Safety First
98. Puzzle
99. Solitude
100. Relaxation

Happy travels and fair weather, my fine friends!

C.R.E.