Apothic Dreams

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is my final short story for the Acantha series although I have yet to complete the series which I will continually work until finished.

Submitted: July 16, 2014

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Submitted: July 16, 2014



I land on the ground with a hard thump my black and red boots leaving little marks behind me, I swing my sword by the black and red hilt getting ready for whatever comes next. He attacks full force I dodge and kick him in the back and watch as he falls face first into the ground. “Acantha you used to be a different kind of protector you still had that humane part now you’re just like the rest of us.” I look into this ugly demon’s face he’s right I used to be different before I died before I was brought back.

“It was different it was a different slightly happier time I still had friends I still had love but, now I’m angry all that has been taken from me. Yes, I was different and though I may have changed my job hasn’t it’s still my job to protect the world.” I look away from his face quickly turn back and swing my sword removing his head and watch as his body slowly dissolves into nothing. Nothing that would be beautiful to see to feel instead of this dark creeping loneliness that makes me see his face in my sleep. I walk the short distance to my hideout that is also my very cold cottage. It’ll only be home for a while until I decide to leave my true home now on the road. 

I lay in my empty bed its cold here in this world alone and when I close my eyes I see him Idris the one who gave up his immortality for me to live again. Idris was my guardian angel the second one to steal what was left my heart. I hold my left wrist up and in the moonlight I stare at the words tattooed there. “Hell is alive in hearts emptied of love.” A quote from one of my favorite books Smoke by Ellen Hopkins from my past life. I slowly close my eyes and let myself drift off into troubled sleep where I enter a dream world the one place I can still visit Idris. He sees me enter and walks over arms open and he feels warm safe the thing I miss in my other reality. We lie down on a dream bed together knowing that our time together is short.

 “You’re always so cold when you visit why is that?” he asks

“I’m always cold because my reality is cold lonely and dangerous. But, when I get here you warm me to almost human again and for a little while I can forget that I’m a killer.”

“You’re more human than any killer you have chosen a hard path to keep the world safe and even though it sometimes feels like it’s a burden you can hardly bear by yourself you have proven to everyone that you’re not going to give up. That’s why I love you. You don’t let anything stop you from doing what’s right even in death.” I look at him with love the second guy to steal my heart.

“My reality is bleak and filled with ugliness because I don’t have you to share it with.” I say quietly letting him hold me instead something I don’t let people do very often.

“You should look for the beauty in your reality everyday so that you can share it with me.”

“I don’t get to look for beauty in every day because every day I’m fighting an ugly battle trying hard not to lose.” 

We lay in silence for the rest of the time we have because even though it’s short we’re grateful. Idris gave up his life so I could live and even though I’ve loved him and been through hell (Demonia) and back I know that we don’t have forever because one day I’ll killed and I know I won’t have a chance of making it to him or Cody they’re in places I can never reach.

The sun begins to shine softly through the torn up curtain which pulls me out of my sleep/dream faze and reminds me that I have this cold reality to live with no matter how painful it is to be here nor how many bad memories are inside my head this is my reality one no living person should have to bear alone. As I get out of bed still in the black and red clothing I was wearing last night during the fight I look at a small corner where a small shrine to those I have loved and lost stands. I walk over and look at the broken pieces of my once favorite sword gingerly I touch both blades on each side remembering how dangerous I truly am.

© Copyright 2019 lost love long forgotten. All rights reserved.

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