09-03-2016, 02:54 PM
ROMEK
It had gone, it had all gone.
There had been a time when he had considered himself a loyal-to-the-death member of the Deserts. He had been born there, all stuck with sand, and he imagined he would remain stuck with sand, for all his life, until he died, or withered away and became nothing. But that had never happened. He had faded, and the Deserts had fallen… And he had gone to the Tundra, and found new life, in himself and in his wife Maribel… And now that had been cruelly ripped away from him, too.
But it was not the Tundra he wanted, or even cared about. He did not care what happened to the poxy crowns or the land beneath their feet. He did not care if he had nowhere comfortable to rest his head, or whether he had only tough old trodden on grass to eat. He had something a lot bigger, and more important than that – his Maribel, heavily pregnant, alone. Probably scared, too. She needed him.
He is angry. Very, very angry. The Tundrans had been standing around, accomplishing nothing, not caring that out there were the children of their land, that out there were their women too, pregnant, recovering from birth, and all alone. The once-Kings and once-powers played their silly games and wondered how they’d get back to the top. He hated them all. The fairies too, for doing this to them.
He searches the Forest with increasing worry as search turns up neither wife nor children. He panics, his pace increases, hours pass, perhaps even days, and he is panting, sore, out of breath. His body wants to stop already, but everything else says – Maribel.
But there was no-one there. Just him, the moon, and the fucking stars.
There had been a time when he had considered himself a loyal-to-the-death member of the Deserts. He had been born there, all stuck with sand, and he imagined he would remain stuck with sand, for all his life, until he died, or withered away and became nothing. But that had never happened. He had faded, and the Deserts had fallen… And he had gone to the Tundra, and found new life, in himself and in his wife Maribel… And now that had been cruelly ripped away from him, too.
But it was not the Tundra he wanted, or even cared about. He did not care what happened to the poxy crowns or the land beneath their feet. He did not care if he had nowhere comfortable to rest his head, or whether he had only tough old trodden on grass to eat. He had something a lot bigger, and more important than that – his Maribel, heavily pregnant, alone. Probably scared, too. She needed him.
He is angry. Very, very angry. The Tundrans had been standing around, accomplishing nothing, not caring that out there were the children of their land, that out there were their women too, pregnant, recovering from birth, and all alone. The once-Kings and once-powers played their silly games and wondered how they’d get back to the top. He hated them all. The fairies too, for doing this to them.
He searches the Forest with increasing worry as search turns up neither wife nor children. He panics, his pace increases, hours pass, perhaps even days, and he is panting, sore, out of breath. His body wants to stop already, but everything else says – Maribel.
But there was no-one there. Just him, the moon, and the fucking stars.
fuck all your dreams, they’re not all they seem