Thursday, 11 March 2010

The shadow from the woods prt1

Breathless and half scared to death, the young man ran as fast as he could. Swirling here and there between the tall trees that seemed to reach down to him with twisted arms and wretched claws as if to snatch him of the ground, his heart hammered in his chest, ready to explode. His every muscle burned with pain yet he could not stop fleeing.
He was a young boy from the village down by the river in the shadow of the Toreburgh mountain. That very mountain rumoured to be the throne of some long forgotten winged god with eyes like fire and feeding of the flesh and souls of mortal men. An old women’s tale some said. To frighten the young children from wandering too far into the woods, but Johanz knew better now. The fairy tales of his youth became the hard terrifying reality he was now running from.

Cursing with every step the soil he ran upon, his strength was beginning to wane. Soon he would not be able to do much more but crawl in some dark place and hope that the shadow from the woods does not find him. And what if it could smell its prey? No. Such thoughts could not be permitted to fill his mind. Not now as he was almost clear of the woods, closing in on the rocky fa├žade of the mountainside. There surely he would find many small caves and holes deep and dark enough to hide. At least for a while until…until what? What hope is there for a boy against such a beast that sailed the winds with wings wide a as three longships?

Then he fell. His legs failed him at last, overstrained beyond what a young and strong man of his age could possibly endure. As he laid down in the mud by a small stream flowing calmly as a never ending serpent through the tall grass he could hear naught but the clear singing of birds and the sweet chanting of the wind through the leaves. The nightmare was over. The old women’s tale was just that, a tale that returned from its long slumber in the dark recesses of Johanz’ soul to haunt him again. His heart slowed down its hammering as his breast was beginning to rise and fall in a calm, rhythmic pace. The sun even managed to pierce through the thick branches to send a warming ray of light upon his muddied face. He could at last open his eyes, just in time to see a monstrous gaping maw that seemed like a cavern’s threshold in size with uneven rows of stalactites dripping with froth and viscous bile. The warmth of the sun became a foul humid stench of decomposition and rotted meat. The ground shook but for a brief moment as if lightning had stricken it with all the might of the thunder god himself. Leaving behind, as the humongous winged form cleared the top of the trees dropping rocks and moist earth to the ground, a large whole in the wet, humid soil around the stream. In a loud yet deafened sound of flapping wings, the large shadow swirled its way up the mountain to disappear in some opening unseen to all but the gods from their heavenly abodes.

Later on that day at the village, the folk will speak in a low voice of a great shadow darkening the sun and the return of he who has been banished many winters ago. He who speaks the tongues of all beasts that fly, crawl and walk on all fours. He that summoned the mountain god.


1 comment:

  1. Well it might sound totally out of contaxt cmpared to the first 2 parts of SCRAP METAL, but fear not, (I) or rather we all, will find a way to make it work...eventually. Theres no main characters so far if not for the mountain god( guess what "it" is (and please do not make it a dragon) and that misterious man who speaks to animals....have fun.

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