It was the fort, its ancient plastered walls were of a lost art style, the oldest of settlers had put them up, and with every swirl in the plaster he could see the black ink etchings of myths. Always was there a central character, humans were colored black, the gods were a dull white of carved plaster, Battles and stories were shown all equal in presentation. Names he heard every day and fame he saw in his dreams. To become a legend every soldier’s dream. Yet now was a dream and reality, a horror of war and personal.
The hallway was dark, the only light source was from the opened door behind him, he did not open it, It was the Phantom that had. Before him down the darkened hallway was the objective a black door, blackened by the dark unlit shadows.
Raising a hand to his head he gripped the pistol in his other hand tighter. He could not feel the iron handle anymore, the feel and shape of it as familiar as his skin; years of training told him to raise the simple pistol level with his ears. His already slanted eyes squinted into the darkness every detail of the dim hallway began to be absorbed and processed, His mind was weary. A scream echoed down the hallway and he took his first step. ‘Walker’ a faint voice muttered from the shadows.
This was a hallway he has seen for half his life, constantly reliving a single mistake. He used to cry, unable to move forward only looking down the dark hallway. He used to dread sleep, for with the closure of the day came the unfinished business of the night. His eyes were dry and tired. It was not his only mistake only his worst.
He took a single step, with it a thud shaking the dark world and making the man’s grip tighter. He took another, then another, the world darkening around him with every step he took. The world trembling more and more with every step he took. Soon as the light began to disappear entirely around him the plaster had begun to crack and peel. It aged rapidly around him and cracks darkness enveloped the man, it started to strangle him, the pure black overwhelming.
‘Far Walker,’ Simple words echoed to him from behind. He turned the door still open, beckoning him to draw near and leave, No he murmured. The door suddenly approached with rapid velocity. The cracks all the more visible now, the light almost as overwhelming as the darkness before it, his eyes could no longer look at the bright intensity. The world dissolved around him, overtaken by the elegant yet destructive light.
“Not yet,” he whispered in a hushed voice as his eyes opened again, a Young cadet and a window behind him, it was dawn as he awoke.
© Copyright 2016 Panache Grovel. All rights reserved.
Poem / Non-Fiction
Book / Fantasy
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