Dark Stuff...

I am sick, both physically and mentally. I don't know how long it will take before I breakdown, before I explode. Everyone is gone, left me to deal for myself. Few people remember me. Almost none can remember my laughter. I never seem to laugh anymore. The thought brings about so much sorrow, so much pain. Is this what causes my anxiety? Is this all bottled up inside? Images that remain swirling in my head, feeding on my paranoia? But am I really paranoid?

My head throbs with pain and I fight to keep my eyes open. My head gets heavy, I cannot lift it up. I am falling, falling faster into sleep. But I fear the nightmares that threaten to come. I fear their memory. I fear their truth, I fear their lies. I fear... I can no longer fight them. my head falls on my chest, my eyes are sown shut. The dreams are coming. Nothing will stop them.
The grass was green. The sun was barely up. The air was fresh and cold. The sun seemed jaded. I could not feel its warmth. The were no crushing walls, no hollow spaces, just an endless field of green. I stood there silently, waiting patiently, but no one came. I was surprised at first, but the confusion slipped away. I watched the sky as it twisted before me. Images seemed to form. I waited again but still no one came. Then the sky was unable to stay still. I smiled. I stared at the sky for ages, watching the clouds shift and flee. When I looked down, the realization dawned on me. I was no long solid. I shifted in and out, becoming a cold, an image. I drifted away, I was blowing in the wind...

I am a fleeting memory... I cease to exist...

A Cleansing

Endless seas of green. The trees surround me and hover above me,
sheilding me from the sun. The ground is damp beneath my feet from
recent rains. Its coolness is comforting. I stood still for what felt
like hours. I felt so at peace here. It was a haven of security, far
away from the penetrating eyes of people. I felt myself slowly melting
away. The chill breeze enveloped my skin, washing away all the pain. I
walked foward, slowly, breathing deeply. I wanted to fill my lungs
with air enough to lift me off the ground. I felt so lightheaded. I
could hear a river in the distance, or maybe it was a stream, or a
spring. I didn't know. I was drawn to the water, its sound echoing
softly in my head.
The spring was hot, its water was pure and clean as it traveled down
the hill, splashing away merrily at the rocks that lay in its way. I
knelt down beside it, and washed my face. The water was comforting. I
stared at my hands. They looked old and weary, they were hands that
had so much to tell. I do not remember taking out a knife. It seemed
to materialize in my hand, then slowly, and half conscious, I cut deep
into my flesh. I don't remember the pain. I remember my blood as it
flowed unchecked from my wrists. I slowly put my hand in the water and
I saw my blood being washed away. The feeling was comforting. I was
finally draining all the poison from my blood, all the pain, all the
betrayal, all the lies, all the regrets. I sat there for what seemed
to be an eternity. I lay down on the wet grass, the bleeding stopped.
Then sleep descended. Sweet dreamless sleep.

Billy - Part 11

The old tavern crouched at the edge of the cliff that overlooked the ocean, a short, stocky building made of stone dulled by years of wind and rain. The waves collided with the rocks below forcefully trying to mold the rocks to their will, a battle that has been raging on for centuries. The tavern and the inn above it had been there for many years, unshakable and unyielding like the rocks they had been built upon. The wind was unrelenting as it hammered against the inn making the shutters rattle and the candles spit and splutter, but the people inside where oblivious. Those who came to the Mighty Fish did not mind the noise, or the wind, or the rain, it was the company that they sought. Frequented by only a few, the Mighty Fish was cozy and familiar. The barkeeper was a stout old man, barrel-chested with a deep, resonating voice. Beneath his bushy brows were small, beady eyes that darted nervously betraying the calm and steady movement of his hands as he cleaned the mugs that hung above the bar.

Two old friends sat at the back of room close to the fire. They were talking animatedly, swinging their mugs and spilling their ale in fits of laughter and mirth. In the midst of their laughter, the door to the tavern swung open with a crash and a small, childlike figure stormed in, fighting violently with his cloak and spitting out incomprehensible obscenities. The ale-drinkers were silenced as they watched, a person much too small to be causing such a commotion. He fumbled for a few more moments in anger and then looked up. Pointing a finger at the back of the room, he let out an angered screech and charged straight at the two men by the fire place, much too fast for anyone to stop them. He crashed into them turning over the table and their chairs, wrestling them to the ground into one giant heap of bodies and ale.

Finding Nemo

He had been swimming for hours and still he was unable to stop. He had ventured too far away from his home, from the safe waters and he felt a chilling fear stir inside him, but he did not stop. There was another force driving him forward and giving him strength. A force so compelling that he could not give in to his fear, he could not let it take charge of him. Pushing it aside he continued moving, his tired little fins paddling away as fast as they could. He was determined to find his son and no matter how far and how dangerous the ocean waters were, he would keep on going.

Somewhere deep inside him, another fear began to surface, something different than the fear of the unknown and yet comfortably familiar. He felt a sense of panic run through him and his movements became frantic and strained. Will he ever find him? Or was he lost forever? And the guilt began to emerge, the dark face of guilt rising up in front of him in anger and in ridicule. He whimpered and prayed before it and he could feel himself losing hope, losing himself to its crippling hand. There was no signs that his search would be fruitful, but still he could not leave his hope behind. No, it was not hope. It was much stronger, a knowledge that he would find his son and bring him home and it was this knowledge that gave him strength, the strength he needed to calm his nerves and push down the panic and from this strength he attacked the guilty. He threw it down and cast it aside. The battle was gruesome but he triumphed in the end. Leaving behind his guilt and his fear, he sped on in search of his son

Creative Writing Assignment 2 - Metamorphosis

I am becoming the moon. I always knew this day would come. It is my destiny like it was the destiny of my sisters, to leave this body of flesh, bones and blood behind. My time on this earth was short, much too short and as I stare at the dying moon above me I know that my time is near. I have loved this body that has been my home with all its faults, with all its imperfections. The jerky, uncalculated movements no longer bother me, I have learned to control them. I have learned to be selfish and unyielding like other mortals, I understand their fears and I share them. Their lust is my own and now I must give it all away. I must shed away this skin and rise to sky where I belong. As the sliver in the sky slowly disappears I start to feel my skin tingle and I shiver with what that feeling means. I walk towards to the pond before me and immerse my feet in the cold water. I can see the ripples spread across its surface just as the moon above disappears completely from sight. I can feel my body start to turn cold and somewhere deep inside me, inside this mortal body, I start to feel afraid. My chest begins to tighten and I can feel my breathing become short and labored. My mortal end is near. The feeling fills me with such sorrow and dread as I stand unmoving, my feet firmly planted in the watery grave. I feel the water seeping into my skin and travel up the length of my body, mixing with my flesh, dissolving it and as I look down at my nakedness I can see my skin start to glitter, its earthly color turning to the brightest of silver. Quickly, much too quickly, I see my body melt away into the pond and becoming sparkling ripples across the surface. The sorrow inside me overwhelms me and I wish to scream but I have lost the ability to speak. As the last of me vanishes a final ripple disturbs the surface and with it, I rise to the sky, a white crescent, dimmed with mourning and sorrow and once again the pond settles, its waters undisturbed.

Unverbing - Creative Writing 1

So I'm taking a creative writing class and this is my first assignment. I don't get it and I'm kind of losing the point of it.


She felt pieces of her fall to the ground and she wished she could undrop them. She longed to unwither under the heat of the sun. She wished she could unweep the tears and unspend all the moisture that had been lost. She wanted to unbreak back to when she was whole. She wanted to be unfallen and stand straight again like she used to. She was unclosed and undark looking up to the sun. Now she knew she was dying and she wished to unknow it. She remembered it all. She remembered being unscared of the sun but now she unbasked in its glow. She was unbent and the petals unopened. She unballed into herself. She unrose from the ground slowly, ungrowing in the ground, shrinking. She unedged from the soil and unwelcomed herself back into her seed.

Untitled 2

The sun was slowly setting on the ancient city. The end of another hot summer day. It was mid August and the air was damp with humidity. The temperature was slowly dropping but still not low enough to be cool. The streets were filled were cars, the honking of their horns and their exhaust fumes, giving rise to the everlasting smog that hovered over the city. Pedestrians roamed the highways adding to the chaos and completely oblivious to the cars that sped on by. The cars didn’t seem to notice them either. Everything seemed to work in some form of ordered chaos.

The city graveyards lined a great portion of the highway but the dead were not disturbed by traffic or the noise, life is for the living, after all. It was in this graveyard that he lay sleeping. The sun continued to descend, and he stirred in his sleep. The sun had painted the sky colors of deep purple, red and orange, and then disappeared behind the horizon. As the night fell upon the city, he tossed and turned in his bed. Soon, he told himself. Soon it would be time for him to wake and breathe again. Lamps all around the city lit up, and a cool breeze found its way to his bed. It wafted in through the crack in the ceiling, and he felt it bite into his flesh. He lifted his head up, and sniffed at the night air. It was dark outside and he knew it. He smiled and thought of the possibilities that lay ahead. He got up from his resting place and left the room. It was time for him to live again.

He hovered outside the grave he occupied for awhile, enjoyed the cool night air, oblivious of the unbearable heat of the day. It was a nice night and he smiled. Yes, tonight would be a good night, he thought. He lazily wandered through the graves. He always liked to be around the dead, he felt comfortable around them. They did not pose a threat to him and he felt no fear, only a sense of sadness. All those bodies lying there lifeless, they could’ve been his. But alas, he did not get there in time, he thought. It didn’t matter, the city was filled with living flesh and blood awaiting his discovery. He remained in the graveyard a few moments longer, and then took off to the heart of the city where life filled the air.

Billy Part 10

The crescent moon rose slowly in the horizon above the empty plains, casting a small sliver of cold light that did little to illuminate the land. There was nothing in sight but emptiness and somewhere from a distance, a lonely wolf howled in hunger. There would be no food tonight. It had been an exceptionally hot summer and the animals that had not been hunted by the beasts of prey had died of thirst. The streams ran dry and the grass had burnt under the scorching heat of the sun. This was a summer unlike any other, a summer of pain and death that had ravished the land with such speed that there was little time to escape. Flourishing towns were now abandoned and left behind and the roads were littered with bodies, of humans and animals alike, no one had the energy or the time to bury them.

A lonely house stood at the edge of the plains just within reach of the dying trees of the forest oblivious to the death surrounding it. Despite the heat, a thin stream of smoke was steadily rising out of the chimney and the fire lit inside danced brightly from the windows. Inside the house sat two children at a large wooden table, kneeling on their chairs. In front them was a board with small wooden pieces, intricately carved into animals with such skill that they almost seemed lifelike. They sat in solemn silence facing each other staring at the board in concentration. The girl gently fingered the miniature wolf in front of her, running the tip of her finger over the ridges across its back and then with a smile, moved the token across the board and smiled triumphantly. Her little face was bright with glee and her soft golden curls bounced gently as she moved her head. The boy in front of her frowned and bit his lip. Outside, the wolf howled again.

Treachery

A single candle burnt dimly in the middle of a small, dark room providing very little light. Two men sat facing each other across an old, well worn wooden table in uncomfortable silence. The nobleman was nervously fingering the hilt of his sword as it hung from his belt. He would not be able to use it if the man in front of him decided to kill him, he would not have time to unsheathe it before a knife would be buried in his chest, but even as he knew this, he felt comfortable knowing the sword was his side.

The assassin knew this and he knew it well. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs stretched out before him. He had not removed his cloak when he had entered into the room and his hood was pulled low over his face. He did not allow his employers to his face, there was no need for it.

- "Are we agreed?" the nobleman said breaking the silence.
- "We are, half the payment now, and half after the deed is done. The king and his adviser will be dead within a fortnight." The assassin's voice calm and cold. The nobleman sensed a metallic edge to it that made him shiver. Reaching into his tunic, he extracted a heavy pouch and laid it on the table in front of the assassin. The assassin nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment but did not reach for it. There was no need to count it, he knew it was right. The silence settled between again for a few moments and the nobleman began to feel uneasy, he wanted to leave, leave quickly. Finally, the assassin leaned forward in one swift movement and grasped the nobleman's arm tightly. The nobleman gasped and he felt a chill creep up his arm but he held still. He found himself staring into two green luminous eyes that seemed to shine from inside the shadows of the assassin's cloak. The gaze made him feel uncomfortable but somehow he could not look away. As he struggled to free himself, the assassin spoke in his cold, metallic voice and said, "Just remember, the wizard's staff is mine," and before the nobleman could react, the assassin released his hand and retreated into the shadows. Without seeing him leave, the nobleman knew that the assassin had left. He shivered in disgust, he picked up the candle and left the room quickly, silently closing the door behind him.

Billy Part 9

As they navigated the narrow alleyways, Billy’s mother began to notice small and subtle differences. The alleys became wider and cleaner, the houses were better kept and the smell of waste was not as pungent. The deeper into town the ventured, the more evident were the signs of wealth around them. Eventually the alleys turned into streets that were paved with stone. The houses that lined these streets were made of grey stone, strong and stable structures. Both Billy and his mother found that their breathing came easier here and they relaxed somewhat. The faint light from the sunset was quickly fading and all around them little lights appeared from the shuttered windows of the houses as people lit their lanterns. It wasn’t before long when Billy’s mother saw the cathedral from between the houses. The street they walked opened up into a big square and the entrance of the cathedral was on the opposite side. Billy’s mother tugged at her son’s hand lightly and urged him forward quickly. She wanted to get inside the cathedral before the night had fully set. This was a strange town and they had nowhere else to turn to and very little money, the priest at the cathedral was sure to take them in. As the approached the square, a figure appeared at the end of the street and blocked their way. Billy’s mother stopped so suddenly that Billy bumped into her back and she almost fell to the ground. Behind them the mule snorted. For long moments all three of them stood in silence and then the figure walked towards them. Billy’s mother was unable to move and her son whispered to her in ear questioningly. She felt terribly afraid. It was dark and there was no one in sight. She watched the stranger approach and was unable to see the face inside the hood. The stranger stopped a few feet away from them and spoke.
“We’ve been waiting for you. We thought you would not come.” He spoke softly and there was no menace in his voice.
“You must be mistaken sir. We are just lonely travelers and we have no business here. We are on our way to the cathedral, if you let us pass, we will be on our way.” Billy’s mother responded with a quivering voice. The stranger stood unmoving as if he had not heard her. She took a few steps forward and then stopped. The stranger did not move out of their way. Feeling a little more than afraid now she looked behind her, it was too far away to turn around now.
“Sir, we have no money, there is nothing of value with us. Please let us pass.” Her voice was almost pleading and still the stranger said nothing. It was Billy who spoke next his voice strong and confident, “I have come”, he said. “I have come just like you have bid me to come.” Her mother turned to stare at her son just as the stranger closed the distance between them. He took a hold of Billy’s hand pulling him close and ran his other hand over Billy’s face. The movement was so quick that Billy’s mother barely had time to respond and just as quickly the stranger pulled away and took a few steps back. The hood had fallen away from his head and Billy’s mother could see him grinning in the faint light of the street. He took her hand in his and held it tightly. “Come with me, this way and quickly,” he said. Quickly he moved away half dragging Billy’s mother behind him. They moved away from the square and away from the cathedral. Billy’s mother tried to protest but could not. Billy followed behind them, holding on to his mother’s hand tightly and with an inexplicable grin on his face.

Billy Part 8

She didn’t understand her son’s strange comment but it did not linger in her mind as she started taking in the sights and sounds of the town. All along the inside of wall were stalls where merchants were packing away their wares for the night. The smell of roasted meat mingled with the smell of refuse on the ground beneath their feet. The path wound around the insides of the walls and branched off in narrow alleyways into the heart of the town. It was obvious that this was the poor side of town with the short houses made of wood and mud in sharp contrast to the castle looming above. The muddy road was overflowing with slime and sharp pungent smell made Billy and his mother nauseas. There was a thin crowd of people in street still but their mood was subdued. The day was coming to an end as people began making their way back to the homes or the alehouses. A few guards could be seen walking up and down the road lazily.

The traveler stood in the middle of marketplace unsure of what to do next and slowly began their ascent towards the cathedral. They would seek shelter for the night there, they decided. Billy kept one hand firmly on the mule’s neck and his mother held the other, leading her blind son into the town. She could see the cathedral looming about the houses, dwarfed by the castle beyond it and walked in that direction. Maneuvering the narrow alleys was more difficult that she had expected. This side of the town was crammed with small houses leaning heavily upon one another and the alleys were littered with garbage making it slippery and Billy’s mother feared her son would slip and fall. She tried not to think about that and instead focused all her attention on getting to the cathedral safely. Billy himself was subdued, he had finally began to feel the effect and burden of his blindness as he stumbled, holding on to his mother and the mule for support. He suddenly felt helpless, a feeling that was entirely new to him and it made him feel afraid. He could sense the closeness of the walls and the smells around him irritated his nostrils and his stomach. He felt his head spin as he put one foot in front of the other and he tightened his grip on his mother’s hand, relying on her entirely to bring him to safety.

Billy - Part 7

They kept their brisk pace all throughout the day and although they remained silent, they both bound by a comfortable sense of companionship. Billy’s mother was still grieving for the loss of her son’s sight but she did not show it. She walked on the well trodden road with determination and purpose, she wanted to arrive at Kasar before nightfall. Billy promised her answers at Kasar and that gave her hope. Maybe she could find a healer there, someone who would restore his sight and get rid of whatever demons haunted him. It was thoughts such as these that pushed her on and gave her the energy she needed to carry on.

The road to Kasar was well used and ground beneath their feet was hard and smooth and Billy had no problem keeping the pace without stumbling, his hand firmly on the mule’s neck. As they crested a hill, the walls of Kasar finally came into sight and people could be seen moving in and out of the gates. It was nearing sunset and the traffic on the road was sparse. The distant voices of the town reached the travelers’ ears from below and Billy suddenly became filled with a feeling of anticipation and unconsciously began to quicken his face. The mule brayed in protest as he gripped its mane tightly. His mother put a calming hand on his arm and Billy relaxed his hold on the mule and slowed down noticeably. Taking her son's hand in her own, Billy's mother led her son down the hill and towards the gates.

Kasar was one of the largest towns in the region housing a large castle that rose above the walls with high towers of sparkling white marble which glittered red and purple in the light of the dying sun. The sun was close to the horizon now and from where the travelers stood, it appeared at the left of the castle, a brilliant crimson disc that filled the sky with colors of red, blue, purple and orange. Somehow the sun did not take away from the castle's brilliance, but served only to enhance it. The towers of the castle seemed to capture all the colors and send them flying into the sky that Billy's mother held her breath at the sight, awestruck by its beauty. All other aspects of the town were dwarfed by the castle and the sun, the great walls, the tall stone buildings and even the cathedral with its spiral towers seemed to fade away into nothing. The sight made her stop suddenly and she found herself unable to move. Billy pat her hand gently and whispered, "Mother? Tell me what you see mother. Is it beautiful?"
"Yes my son," she replied, her voice barely a whisper, "it is beautiful." Tears filled her eyes as she tore them away from the image in front of her to look at he son and she wished to give him her eyes so that he could it see it for himself. She swallowed and then began to describe the scene to her son. She watched his face as he listened intently and smiled at the description. When she was finished, he sighed and urged her forward. They walked the remainder of the distance in silence and arrived at the gates just as sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The guards were slowly closing the great iron gates just as they arrived but after a single glance they were allowed to enter. Billy breathed in relief as soon as he was inside the walls and said, "Mother, I am home."

Billy - Part 6

Billy's mother stared at her son in complete disbelief, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she searched for words to say. She felt the world caving in as she struggled to understand what had happened to her beautiful young boy. She felt tears well up in her eyes as the sorrow overwhelmed her. Billy did not move, he still faced her with his unseeing eyes, his head inclined slightly to one side, a movement that was barely perceptible. His face was calm and he showed no signs of fear or discomfort at the sudden change in his condition. He waited patiently for his mother to collect herself, knowing how she must feel and fully comprehending her state of shock. Endless moments passed, or so it seemed to Billy's mother before she was able to speak. Her voice was shaky but she held her son's hands firmly in her own.

"You can't see me, can you?" she asked. She knew the answer but somehow felt the need to ask anyway.
"No mother, I cannot" Billy's reply was simple, his voice was calm and strong, as if his blindness was a natural progression of his young life.
"But you are alright, aren't you? You had a terrible fever last night, the worst I had ever witnessed."
"Yes, mother. I feel fine. I had a vision last night. I understand why I have become blind." Billy replied but he said nothing further. His mother waited for an explanation but when none came, she became angry.
"Well? What did you see? Why has this been done to you?" She asked exasperated.
"I cannot tell you mother, it is hard to explain, only that my blindness is a test and a necessity for what is to come." Billy's reply did little to satisfy his mother and he could feel the anger building up inside her as her grip tightened on his hands. She dug her nails in the palms of his hands and he cringed inwardly.
"What is to come Billy? What is to come that is so important that you must be destroyed in this manner?" Her voice suppressed a panic that was rising in her throat. She could feel him slipping away from her by some evil force, the same evil force that had followed him since his birth and her feelings of helplessness infuriated her.
"Mother, we must reach the town of Kasar by nightfall tonight. There is someone waiting for me there and he will be better able to answer your questions. Let us have some breakfast and take to the road." He tilted his head slightly towards the sun and then added "it'll be noon soon and we must be inside the city gates before they close."

Billy's mother stared at him a moment longer and she felt a part of her die inside. She swallowed hard against the pain in her chest and her mouth became a thin determined line on her face. She nodded to herself, released Billy's hands and began to prepare some breakfast. They ate some bread, cheese, and some dried fruit, swallowing it down with some warm ale. They ate in uncomfortable silence and when they were finished, she went to find their mule. It was feeding on some grass where they had left it and when she returned, she found Billy standing waiting, with his packed securely tied on his back. He placed his hand on the mule's neck as they descended to the road, setting a brisk pace to Kasar. They would reach there before nightfall, Billy was sure. He lifted his face to the sun, felt its comfortable warmth on his face, and began to whistle the same merry tune he whistled when they left home. His mother stared at him curiously, shook her head in hopelessness and walked on.

Billy - Part 5

It was on that fateful trip that Billy’s life changed forever. It was a two day journey to the next town and Billy and his mother had set out early in the morning. Billy was a tall boy of fifteen years and he walked at a slow relaxed pace beside his mother leading their mule behind them. It was a bright sunny day with a crisp breeze blowing and he felt more at ease here in the open space than he had ever felt at his hometown. He whistled a tune softly that was carried by the wind and his mother also seemed to relax as she looked up at the son she loved so much, smiling with pride. He was big and strong with a sharp mind and she loved to see him so happy. They stopped at midday to rest a small way off the main road and had some dried venison and fruit. As Billy munched away contentedly, he began telling his mother stories from all the books he had been reading. He told of fairy tales with magical creatures, battles fought against gruesome dragons, and of wonderful treasures in faraway lands. Billy’s mother had never seen him so happy and so open and she wondered why he was always so subdued in the town. They basked in the sun longer than they should have and the sun hung low in the sky when they started on the main road again.

They walked at their slow pace until sunset and then it was time to set up camp. They built a small fire near a big oak tree at the edge of the forest and Billy went to fetch water from the stream nearby for dinner. Neither of them could hunt so their dinner was made up of some hot stew of carrots and turnips with no meat but they were grateful all the same. A cold wind had started to blow and they huddled closer to the fire for warmth. Together, they watched the moon rise and sat in comfortable silence. As the fire burnt low, Billy threw a few dry twigs and they both set down to sleep huddled up in their cloaks, side by side. Billy’s mother lay awake for a while listening to her son’s steady breathing and wondering where she had gone wrong. Billy was such a wonderful boy and she could not find anything strange about him. She resented the people of the town for blaming Billy for the priest’s death. She knew Billy was unlike the other boys who were more of a nuisance than anything else. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got, and it became impossible for her to fall asleep. She lay there for a long time brooding and staring at the dying embers.

It was sometime around midnight, when the moon was high in the sky that she felt Billy stir. It was a soft stirring at first but soon his breathing became labored. She sat upright and looked at her son and found that he was shivering uncontrollably. Putting her hand on his head she found his skin scorching hot with fever and he started shaking violently at her touch that she pulled her hand away quickly. His breathing came in short gasps and his eyes popped open staring straight at her. Terrified, she tried to pull his cloak closer around him but he shied away from her and from somewhere behind her she heard the mule braying nervously. His eyes stared at her blankly and she knew he could not see her. His shaking become more and more violent and he began to groan in pain. His mother began to fear the worst and she felt incapable of saving her son. Whenever she tried to touch him, he would move away and he would start to wail. His unseeing eyes terrified her, they seemed to be pleading with her to stop his pain but she could not. A sense of helplessness flooded over her and she began to sob hugging her knees tightly. The mule’s braying mingled with her son’s groaning became louder and louder, exploding in her ears. She covered them with her hands to drown out the sound and shut her eyes tightly but it would not stop. She could feel the world collapsing around her and soon her sobbing turned into wailing. The forest around them was filled with a cacophony of sounds that did not belong there and yet a deadly stillness filled the air. It was almost dawn when suddenly the sounds stopped all at once. Billy was no longer shaking and his groans had disappeared, the mule had gone silent, and Billy’s mother removed her hands from her ears and opened her eyes. She looked over at Billy and in the soft light of the waning moon she saw the silhouette of his body lying on the grass unmoving. Making the symbol of the cross on her chest, she edged closer to him and fearfully touched his face. He didn’t move and his skin was cool. Saying a silent prayer, she put her hand inside his cloak and over his chest. She could feel his heart beating strongly and could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He did not wake at her touch. Feeling relieved she lay down close to her son and closed her eyes and instantly fell asleep.

She awoke in the late morning searching for Billy. He was sitting upright in the spot where he had been sleeping. She prayed silently again grateful that her son was alive and well. She sat up quickly and pulled Billy in her arms with tears streaming down her face. Billy said nothing as he held her close to his chest and stroked her soft hair. When she finally let him go, she looked up at his face smiling. In an instant, her smile turned into a look of complete horror as she looked into her son’s sightless eyes. His dark brown eyes had turned bluish-white and she knew that he could not see her. Billy had become blind.

Billy - Part 4

No one knew why Father Joseph died and even though everyone looked solemn at his funeral, Billy secretly believed that he was not the only one happy to see him go. Billy did not think there was anything strange about Father Joseph’s death and he was completely oblivious to the wary looks that the town’s folk gave him and his mother. His mother was not so lucky. She had heard the whispers and the rumors that went around behind her back and she was not pleased. People were becoming fearful of little Billy, teachers ignored him in class, the children stopped taunting him and the neighbors completely avoided his mother. She was appalled by the things that were being said about Billy, that he was touched by the devil and that the marks on his face were the devil’s mark. She loved her son dearly but she did not understand him anymore than the town’s folk.

It wasn’t before long that Billy was asked to leave the school, no one wanted to come near him, so his mother began to educate him herself. She did not know much about schooling, having had very little of it herself, but she used what little money she had to buy books. She was determined that Billy make something of himself, and even though no craftsman would take him as an apprentice, she began to teach him the only thing she knew how to do, weaving. Billy was a fast learner. His ability to read and write quickly exceeded that of his mother and she gave up on educating him further, but since he was a curious boy, he continued to read all the books his mother bought for him until he had read them all. He also excelled in weaving, his dexterous hands weaving complex patterns unlike any that his mother had ever seen. His mother had made her living on selling her cloth, but with these patterns, it soon became impossible to sell them in town. Everyone knew that Billy had made them. When her meager savings dwindled, she packed the cloth carefully, some dried food and cooking pots loaded on their old mule and set off with Billy to the closest town.

Billy - Part 3

Billy did well at school, even though he was always a little distracted. He seemed to get through his class by mere coincidence since most of his time was spent staring out the classroom window. He spoke very little to his teachers and even less to his classmates and after five years, he had no friends.

Billy was a peculiar little boy. His peculiarities set him apart from the other children. His appearance soon changed. The freckles on his face got darker as he grew older until they became black spots that covered his cheeks and his nose and even though all the other children teased and taunted him, it all seemed to just roll off his back, as if he never heard them. While all the other boys were off playing games in the parks after school, he preferred to stay his backyard. He played with wooden swords, battling unseen fiends with such passion that his mother stared at him from the living room in astonishment and awe. His continued seclusion bothered her greatly. It was on one fine spring morning when Billy was ten that his mother decided to do something about it. She dressed him in his finest clothes and took him to the priest.

Father Joseph was not a friendly man. Billy saw Father Joseph every Sunday at church as he sat in the front row with his mother and he disliked him greatly. His loud voice seeped though him and his talk of hell fire and the monstrous demons that lived there greatly disturbed poor Billy's young mind that he regularly appeared in his nightmares. It was not hell that Billy feared, it was the Father Joseph's talk of hell, the way he eyed the crowd as he spoke of hell, looking for sinners in their midst. It seemed to Billy, that every time Father Joseph looked into the crowd, his eyes always settled on Billy and in those eyes Billy saw a fire that burned stronger than the fires of hell.

On that fine spring morning, Billy walked reluctantly next to his mother with his head hanging low, murmuring under his breath and dragging his feet. His mother held his hand firmly in hers and pulled him along. When they arrived at the church, Billy took a deep breath and entered. The church was a small one, built of stone with very few windows. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dimness and as he followed his mother to the altar, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. Father Joseph was kneeling before the altar in prayer, and Billy felt his chest tighten. They waited silently for Father Joseph to finish and when he did, he turned around to greet them. Billy looked into his eyes and he did not like what he saw. Fear gripped his heart as Father Joseph looked at him with those unforgiving eyes and he breathing became labored. He could hear his mother talk to Father Joseph but he did not understand what she said. Faster and faster his heart pounded in his chest, he couldn't breathe. He needed to leave the church, he needed to get away from the priest. He felt a sense of panic engulf him and just before he felt his heart was going to collapse, everything went silent. The pounding stopped and everything around him seemed to disappear. He felt as if he was floating on air, surrounded by white fluffy clouds. A strange sense of peace settled over everything and as he sighed in relief, the silence was pierced was by a muffled scream that seemed to come from far away. He tried to ignore it but its insistence made it louder and louder until he realized that it was very loud and very close. He blinked and suddenly the world around him came alive. His mother stood next to him screaming and all around him people were running towards them. It was then that he realized what had happened. Father Joseph had died.

The medicine man...

The news spread like wildfire through the town, the medicine man had died. People filed out of their houses in shock. The news came as a surprise to all and as they walked slowly to the medicine man's house at the end of town near the river, a strange silence came over everything. It was like a cold misty veil was laid over the town and the temperature seemed to drop rapidly, much too fast. The townspeople shivered uncontrollably. One by one they moved in one direction and all around them the mist settled. The eerie silence became more pronounced that even the sound of the river was drowned out. The loss was too great to bear. People began crying silently, their tears flowing on their faces unchecked. All his wisdom, all his kindness, all gone. There would be no other.

The medicine man is dead.

Billy - Part 2

It was when Billy was around three that strange things started happening around him. His mother first noticed when one night she heard a soft whimpering coming from downstairs. She went downstairs quickly when she couldn't find Billy in his room, and there he was in the living room. He stood staring out the window, crying and trembling in fear. He kept pointing at something outside the window that his mother couldn't see. Comforting him, she took him back up to bed. She was surprised to find the birds dead in their cage in the morning and Billy's face riddled with freckles that were never there.

Billy was a silent child, or rather, he was silent when around people. His mother always heard him speak to himself when he was alone and he seemed to have conversations with imaginary people. It worried her a little, but she was convinced that Billy simply had a healthy imagination.

Soon young Billy started school.

Billy - Part 1

His name was Billy.
Billy was 10 years old. He came from an average home, lived in an average house, and went to an average school. He had brown hair, big brown eyes that always seemed surprised, and an innocent smile. Everything about him screamed average, but that couldn't be farther away from the truth. The truth was that Billy was an extraordinary boy living in an extraordinary world that only a few knew existed.

It all started when Billy was born. It was an exceptionally hot summer that year. Billy's mother sat on the terrace fanning herself and drinking some fresh lemonade with her neighbor and complaining about the heat, when suddenly a cool breeze started blowing. It was a soft touch of freshness that was much welcome in the scorching heat, however, soon the breeze turned into strong winds. Just as Billy's mother started to move inside the house, the wind started howling and within seconds the rain began to pour. The two women stared at the sky in disbelief, it had never rained in summer before. Seconds later, little Billy decided it was time. He was born out on the terrace in the middle of an unusual summer storm and as his mother held his tiny body to her chest and smiled, the storm subsided as quickly as it had come.

Little Billy began to grow in the same manner as all young boys. He took his first steps when he was one and soon after started saying his first words. Soon he began to run and sing and play. His mother could not have been more proud.

....

She lay in his arms as he slept. Her head was on his chest and she could hear his heart beating and she knew that it was beating for her alone. She closed her eyes and slowly caressed his face, feeling her heart ache with the love she had for him. And as she lay there in his arms, she felt the world drift away into nothingness. They were alone, everything had disappeared, only their intertwined bodies and soft, comforting beating of his heart.

It was a long time before she slept. She enjoyed savoring these moments where she felt like she belonged, like he belong to her. She found comfort in his arms, a comfort unlike any she had ever felt before. She felt at peace, that she all her pain and her sorrows had been washed away by his presence and when she finally slept, it was a dreamless sleep, filled with serenity.

She awoke at dawn feeling rested. He stirred with her movement as she raised her head to kiss his cheek and she felt him smile. And that's all she really wanted from life, to make him smile.