Morningstar

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 14, 2017

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Submitted: March 14, 2017

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  A trail of bloodied leaves leads from a nearby glade, puddles soaking into the soil beneath the dense underbrush. The sky is dark, and afloat with stars, air is still; the cicadas of summer humming all around, but as usual, nowhere to be seen. A knight seeming to be in his mid twenties is camping, his back against an old maple tree. He has an oil lantern, his arming-sword, shield & helmet at his side, and a campfire in front of him. The flames dance and crackle for what seems like hours, as he just sits, staring deep into the glow of the fire, reflecting in the blue spheres of his eyes. He looks so very tired, battered… and in pain. Tears come forth from his watery eyes, stinging his cheeks, only to meet with the cold ground beneath him. His leg is slashed deeply; crimson soaks his tunic, then moves in a trickle over his mail, down his shin to feed the flora below him.

 
At this point, there would be no way of telling his comrades his whereabouts, many were ordered to retreat after they had lost men to some ...fascinating things among the trees the day before. Nobody knew what they were, not that he cared now. His love had been slaughtered a few weeks prior to this night in the village neighboring the capital, was much too late to save her, only being able to cradle her sweet, delicate body as the last of her life slowly faded and her breath had ceased forever. He cried, he refused to slumber, eat, or commune. His bonfire seemed to rid him of his senses just enough for him to ponder about what he was going to do. He could wait to decease, or he could just end it rather; by the comforting cold of his own blade.
 
“I miss you . . .
I would do anything to hear your voice over again.”
 
He smiled, slightly. 
 
“I suppose ill be with you soon, anyway…..
Ill be with you soon.”
 
....................................................................................................………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
There was a strange sound, probably a shriek coming from somewhere behind him. Then came the breeze to stroke his wavy golden hair, & the characteristic stench of decay. The Englishman took his sword, struggling in pain to use the near maple to stand up. Fire shading orange glow on his features, his narrowed eyes trying hard to focus against the abyss. He turned to his right, to limp back, carefully scooping up his lantern to bring it to face for better sight in the eeriness of the woods. His eyes scanned the area slowly & carefully, but saw nothing, & heard not a sound. All was still, except for the glow of a few fireflies. 
 
“This is how the ambush was. I sure as hell ‘ain't gonna die out ‘ere by some little purple queer.”
 
He whispered to himself, cautiously lifting his blade, & unsheathing it from its scabbard, readying it for an onslaught.
 
"I SMELL BLOOD, HOW LUSCIOUS!!”
 
A disembodied voice boomed from right underneath his feet, catching him off guard, soil bursting forth an arm of the faintest lavender, pulling him forcefully by his injured leg, into the underground. The startled man quickly rose his sword above his head, & swung it, striding back in the same motion to hit the creature, severing dry its limb, which now lay squirming in front of him. He respires heavily, aghast; but peering down, betwixt the swinging candle flame of his lantern still in hand, he caught eye of a opening below him, where the arm had come from. There was presently a bulging, red eye looking up at him, so he thrust his blade into the ground, & killed it. 
 
“Oi , bloody Demons!!??”
 
“They’re just ravenous, 'andsome, arent they?”
 
An odd voice came from above him as he pulled his blade from the soil, he tilted his head up briskly, to just maybe catch sight of what he pondered could be another human of the fairer sex above him, but was met with only night.
 
“Your not a very sharp knight, are you, Sir Dwight??….”
 
“’Ey, ey!!! You can’t know my name…! Who in hell are you, anyway?! Ill bet your ‘nother one of those damned beasts, I bet!!
 
After a few silent steps away from the campsite, he paused in his tracks & felt a breath on his neck, he spun around & stepped rearward, instinctively lunging his sword deeply into the figure, hoping to strike its heart, like he has many other times before. The order of knights he consisted of, praised him for being a born combatant; but again, not precisely clever. He looked up at the face of this stranger, & to his shock & terror, it was the face & figure of his last love, hemorrhaging from her breast. She smiled down at him sweetly, much like she always had when they were together, on clear skied summer mornings by the fields in Lancaster. Dwight withdrew his blade, eyes wide, stumbling back in absolute fright as he watched the figure of his betrothed double over in anguish, wailing in tremendous pain for him to assist her. He recalled already witnessing her untimely death, so he jumped back to the mysterious doppelganger, & stabbed the figure over again, trying to kill it, frantically; similar to how people kill spiders, nowadays.
 
“Oh lord, vampires now!??!” Die, die die die!! Oh my god!!!”
 
“No, You foolish idiot!!!”
 
The figure spoke with an annoyed expression, with a notable hint of maliciousness, which was as much resembled her, more than anything else… Her blood, organs & flesh melted back into the soil from where she was expected to be; but her bones remained. Dwight ceased his attacks on the rotting pile, confused. A light lavender color came into view, & a demon was near him, all of a sudden; sporting the fashion for the time, (circa 1350). Her dress & bodice were only a shade darker purple than her skin, hiding her figure. It made her seem phantom-like in appearance. She had a third eye on her forehead; which resembled the eye that poor Dwight had stabbed through, and long pointed ears. Another breeze passed, causing the hem of her dress to flutter around her ankles & lifting her beautiful white hair from her shoulders, & just for a moment or two, there was a complete silence among the woods.
 
“Dwight I swear to god…”
 
 
 
 


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