Sun Wraith origins. Preston

Plays: 9  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

a short exerpt/ origin story for the character: Preston. from my wip: sun wraith

Created: October 19,2018

Submitted: June 16, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 16, 2018



The clouds where especially shallow this morning.

A sky of glowing yellow smog lit the earth and beamed against Preston. The air was cool, but much warmer then it had been. All around, bugs chirped their lively sounds, and birds fluttered about singing their songs.

Preston placed a damp log on the chopping stump and brought his axe dow. the wood split in two, falling to ether side of the stump.. as preston placed and chopped with near robotic autonomy. A sense of dread pulled at him. Things were too peaceful. Too nice, he didn't trust it. It could be his guilt haunting him, that happened often enough, but despite that, today, this moment, stood out to him, some how, this rare morning of peace and natural beauty, ate at him.

Preston's axe came down again, then again, his vision narrowing, his breath hastening, his heart thumping louder in his chest. He could almost hear it over the sharp clop of splitting timber.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder and spun around ready to swing, but froze. Only the face of a startled young woman stared back, her brown hair long and silky, blew gracefully with the soft out door breeze

“Autumn” he said, surprised “I'm sorry ,you scared me”

“Scared me too” she said stepping closer “Are you okay? you almost took my head there”

“Yeah I just” Preston paused. “just a bit off today”

Autumn smiled. “when are you not?” she said poking at Preston's stomach playfully.

Preston smiled back and held Autumn close. “I'm sorry, I'm just being paranoid. an old habbit of i guess.” and they kissed breafly.. Dread still writhed inside of him but he dared not let Autumn see it. He didn't want her to worry.

“I'm gonna need help with dinner pretty soon” said Autumn.

“Okay” Preston replied “go on inside, I need to finish up here, but I'll come help when I am done”

Autumn jotted back into their small wood cottage, and Preston turned back to his logs. He gathered as much wood in his arms as he could, and carried them toward the house.

He came within a few feet of the front door, when he heard Autumn struggling.“no! NO! Get away” fallowed by screaming and stumbling.

Preston dropped his logs and barged through the door. A bald man with a torn left cheek held Autumn by her hair with a gun pointed at Preston.

Autumn yelled “behind you!” but before Preston could register her frantic warning, something heavy struck him at the base of his neck and everything went black...


“wakey wakey”

a splash of frigged water struck Preston's face, forcing him awake. His skin crawled with goose bumps, and his body shook from the cold. He grunted angrily but the gag in his mouth muffled it's intensity. Preston looked up and saw Autumn sitting across from him. Her face was red and her cheeks were puffed as if she had spent hours crying. Behind her stood the man with the torn cheek.

“good morning Preston” said the man. His voice was deep and hallow, like speaking through a paper tube.

Preston squirmed in his seat trying to break free, as the man walked toward him.

“Do you remember me?” Preston looked at the man, reluctantly. “I may look a little different, from when we first met, but I have you to thank for that” Preston didn't respond. Only stared at the man with hate in his eyes, evenly blended with confusion as he tried to place the bald mans disfigured face.

“at a loss for words are we?” said the man with a jagged grin. A few voices behind Preston chuckled.

“No matter” said man with the torn cheek “all you need to know is, I'm simply here to vent” he knelt down beside Preston and un-holstered a revolver from his waist then pointed it at autumn, the sound of the hammer clicking, as he pulled it back, caused her to jump, and squeal under her gag. “i want you to focus on your feelings Preston, focus on how you feel when that which you love is threatened.”

The man stared intently at Autumn. his predatory gaze, so discomforting, she could feel it beaming into the side of her head, as she looked away.

“She's quite a doll isn't she?” said the man “you're lucky to be loved by someone so beautiful.”

Autumn shivered, Preston could only stare helplessly, trying to catch her eyes once more before the inevitable took place

“do you know what she's thinking right now?” said the man “she's not thinking you'll magically garner the strength to break free of your bonds and save her. She's a smart girl. She knows when she's doomed, right now she's probably regretting the first time she ever met you” Preston shook with rage in his chair screaming as loud as his gag would allow him. His arms where tied at the elbows, still he pulled, and thrashed with what little range of motion his restraints allowed, all the while jogging his brain for a memory that he could use to recall this mutilated monster of a man.

“Here's the thing about love Preston” whispered the man with the torn cheek, an inch from Preston's ear. ”It is a selfish thing, an emptiness that can only be filled by the company of a very particular other.”

Preston shook more violently in his chair but the man with the torn cheek remained still as a statue. The look on his mutilated face was one of ecstasy. He was feeding on Preston's rage

“you hadn't considered the long term consequences when you found love. You only focused on how good it felt to have that cavity in your soul finally filled in. you didn't bother to consider what would happen if your past mistakes finally caught up with you. How they would affect her. How selfish of you.”

the man stiffened his arm and squeezed the trigger of his gun. The weapon flashed with a loud metallic bang. Autumn's head shot back then fell forward, in a sick elastic jolt of motion.

Preston screamed at the top of his lungs, as the man with the torn cheek ripped the gag from his mouth so he could take in the grieving whales at full volume. He stood back and let Preston squeal, his loud angry shrieks quickly transitioning to weeps of defeat.

It had been almost a half hour before Preston tired himself out and fell silent. The man squatted before Preston, who's face was blank and puffy. Heavy streams of moisture still draining from his mentally absent eyes. The man grabbed Preston by the jaw, squeezing his lips into a pucker, and adjusted his head to make eye contact with him. Preston steered his gaze else ware in retaliation.

“look at me” said the man. Preston didn't respond. “look... at... me...” the man repeated. Nothing.

Had it not been for the color in his face and the steady faint breaths exhausting through is nose, one would mistake Preston for a dead man. He was unresponsive and his eyes were blank. Not sad or angry. just dead, staring at everything and nothing all at once.

“you did this Preston, in seeking love, you damned the soul of your little sweet heart to this fate” The man released his grip on Preston's chin and his head fell limply. he lifted a stool from the corner of the cabin and placed it before him, Then set a gun on top of it, the handle pointed toward Preston.

“there is one round in the chamber” said the man with the torn sheek. “you know what I want you to do”

the man cut loose Preston's bonds and his arms fell to his side, before leaving with his party through the front door, closing it behind him

Preston didn't bother to fight back, didn't bother to acknowledge the gun, and Didn't bother to stand up.

He didn't want to look at any of it. the world around him was too ugly. a dying diseased animal riddled with parasites and germs. He simply stared, cast his gaze beyond the material objects surrounding him him, and into an empty void.

He didn't lift his head to look at his beloved Autumn's lifeless body, or his eyes to acknowledge the gun he was ordered to kill himself with. He just stared. Gazed at nothing, until his broken heart gradually slowed to a halt. As his vision faded to black, a loud bone shaking pulse bounced off his back, he didn't know how, but he knew It belonged to the man with the torn cheek.

© Copyright 2018 Auker J Wells. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Fantasy Short Stories