Moments of Darkness Read online

  After the second full moon since he’d been there, Charles worried that this wasn’t a coma. It was worse. He hated being so close to these men. They stunk, they were rude, and they continued to engage him. Sanity and patience wore thin.

  “I want out of here!” he yelled one day at dinner. He’d been sitting at a table with three other monks, all of whom were talking to him. “The game is over. Get me home now!” He slammed his fist on the table, shaking the wooden bowls.

  The monks stood, grabbed his arms, and carried him to the door of the monastery where they tossed him outside falling face down on the dirt.

  They yelled, kicked dirt on him, and closed the door.

  Charles sat on the ground amazed at his current predicament. He held his fists to his eyes wishing himself back to his world. When he opened his eyes he half expected to see the sterile gray walls of his lab, but he hadn’t moved. Instead, he faced a heavy wooden door with large iron fittings closed to him.

  He spent the night huddled the cornfield. The familiar plants comforted him.

  The next morning, he made his way to the nearest village where he wandered through the market. A large lady was handling the latest crop of squash, squeezing one after another in search of the perfect specimen. The stalls were close together and Charles got caught between the enormous woman and baskets of apples. He squeezed through and a small boy bumped into him, knocking him off his feet. He crashed to the packed earth and blacked out.

  When he woke, Charles looked carefully around him. He no longer smelled the dirt and humanity he grew accustomed to in the monastery. He couldn’t place the scent. It was an odd mixture of body odor and something floral with a touch of fish. It didn’t smell like any place he remembered.

  Then a green-gilled face with large yellow eyes peered down at him. The eyes reminded him of large kernels of corn. It grinned, exposing razor-sharp teeth.

  Charles attempted moving his arms, Restraints kept them immobile. His heart beat faster, his face contorting as he tried to free himself. The yellow-eyed face above continued to grin at him, bits of saliva dropping on his chest. When they did, they burned his clothes and singed his chest.

  He screamed.

  The creature cut his arms and legs. His piercing screams did nothing to stop it. Just before he closed his eyes for the final time, he thought he heard a voice speaking. “Geoffrey will stop the blight on our crops. He’s the antidote to the disease. We can finally grow what we need without involving those pesky humans.”

  It laughed as it sliced through Charles. His skin burned and his world turned black.

  From Beyond the Wall

  “No mother, don’t!” I screamed. That was the last time I saw my mother. Her painted blue body disappeared over the stone wall to an abyss no one returned from. Ten months have passed since she left.

  The rough stone wall placed by giants stood as the last imposing feature of our land. Monsters lay beyond so horrific we were forbidden to cross over. Ever since I was a little boy running around the village, tales of undead creatures frightened us children from passing over the wall.

  Some brave men and women thought the tales were false and scaled the immense wall only to never be seen again. I imagined misty woods filled with demons and ghouls and creatures we’d never dreamed of ravaging trespassers. That frightened me terribly and kept me far away from the wall. My older brother wasn’t as thoughtful.

  About three years ago he and his friends scaled the wall defying our parents. My father’s anger grew fierce and mother cried for him to return. There were four of them in all, his friend Tillnook and the two twin girls Sarai and Fillina whose father the blacksmith howled at them to come down. Sarai lost her balance and tipped, threatening to fall to her death on our side of the wall. Tillnook caught her but in his attempt to rescue her he lost his balance and fell screaming to his death. His body crunched and blood soaked the ground around his broken and mangled figure.

  The gathered villagers screamed in horror. My brother turned from the body and before anyone noticed, he and the twins vanished. It’s presumed they fled to the unknown wilderness beyond the wall. My parents were devastated as were the twins’ parents and that’s nothing compared to the grief of Tillnook’s parents. It was an upsetting time for all of us then.

  Why my mother followed that same path baffled me.

  My father died in a hunting accident about a year ago leaving my mother and I to take care of the small farm by ourselves. We’d done the best we could but it was falling apart. Mother forgot to milk the cows or collect the eggs on more than one occasion and she never realized her carelessness. At least not that she spoke of. I was almost a man’s age when my father died. At fourteen years old, I was a grown man expected to handle the chores of the farm. I might be able to run it but my heart wasn’t in it. I prefered to play in the forest pretending I’m a knight, one of the kinds from far away lands. With their exotic headdress and bold figures on their shields I wanted nothing more than to join their ranks.

  Mother scolded me, telling me our family was low born and I’d never attain paige status let alone a full-fledged knight. I ignored her jabs and trained in the forest away from peering eyes.

  When father died my training quickly faded, as I had to take on more duties around the homestead. We had little land. As a young boy I always wanted more land for our family but as I found myself in charge of its upkeep I was glad we had little. Now I guess it’s all mine with my mother leaving like she did.

  Mother used to tell stories of the great beyond as if she’d been there. She told stories with such conviction I could see the one-eyed miniature men storming from their caves as if they would attack me. Her descriptions so real I stayed up many nights afraid they would breach the wall and I’d be caught unprepared.

  And that’s a dumb thing to worry about anyway. The wall is taller than any tree I’ve ever seen. Nothing in our village comes close to its size. There’s supposed to be a deep valley on the other side that goes so far down you can’t see the bottom when standing on top of the wall.

  The Crimson Steps go to the top of the wall on the village side. They take a long winding way on purpose preventing quick access to the village in case something scaled the other side and made it to the top. Many villagers fell to their death slipping on those treacherous stairs.

  When told my mother was scaling the Crimson Steps I ran fast to stop her. I almost resigned myself to her fate when I saw she had on her blue paint. Yet still I yelled trying to coax her back to the farm.

  “Mother, please don’t go!” I plead. She paused. I thought tears streaked down her face but she was so far up I couldn’t be sure. She waved then continued her climb. I yelled and yelled but nothing stopped her. I assume she was going after my brother. Or maybe she wanted adventure. But what about me? Did she ever stop to think of me? I cried out to her until my voice grew hoarse. When with my last breath I called out “No mother, don’t” she stepped forward and out of my life.

  With the help of a few friends, I’ve been working the farm since she left. So far we’ve been able to keep up with everything but I know I can’t continue like this. My dreams of being a knight have faded with each egg I collect.

  One night as I lay in my quiet home, the fire dying down, I heard a sound outside. None of the animals stirred. I rose from the lice infested bed and crept on the dirt floor until I reached the wooden door. The cracks between the slats allowed me a chance to see what it was. In the dark of night I could hardly make out anything. I heard another sound like sticks snapping and almost jumped. I grabbed a wooden rod, which I normally used to beat back wolves trying to steal our fowl as protection from the source of the sound.

  A noise like feet dragging in the grass caught my attention. I grasped the rod tight, both hands ready to swing at whatever intruder dared stalk me that night. The sound grew closer as if the feet were dragging towards my door. My breathing quickened. The dragging sound was closer still. I could see nothing through the door.
Then the dragging sound stopped. I prepared myself, ready to attack whatever stood outside.

  My door flung open with a crash. I jumped back and swung my rod missing whatever it was. I stumbled backwards and landed on the hard dirt floor.

  “Stay back!” I yelled. It lumbered forward. I scrambled back further until I struck the table, bumping my head. I winced but wouldn’t take my gaze off the intruder. Slowly it hobbled my way. It was human shaped and held something swinging in its hand. It took another step and I gasped.

  Before me stood a blue skinned woman, my mother, or what used to be my mother, with a glazed look across her eyes as though gray storm clouds covered them. She raised a hand and tossed her prize towards me. It rolled and hit my bare foot. By the firelight I saw what it was and shrieked in horror.

  My brother’s head faced me. His eyes were closed and his mouth twisted in a gruesome scream. Flesh hung from the neck as did a small bone.

  “Never cross the wall. NEVER!” my mother said. “I warned you.” Then she exploded in thousands of pieces like dust. I screamed as my brother’s eyes opened and he howled.

  When I woke curled on the floor the next morning, nothing remained of my experience the night before. No head, no body. Nothing. I rose and as I went to clear my head, I noticed marks on the floor as if a foot dragged in the dirt. I wailed and fled my home sure that I’d never have the fortitude to be a knight.

  Marital Bliss

  Jeanne tapped on the keyboard with her two index fingers. She never took typing in school and barely had enough time at a keyboard to learn the right way. Like normal, she was alone on a Saturday night. Her husband went out with his friends drinking. At first she didn’t mind. Once it became a habit and she spent lonely nights in their rural home with a couple cats and an old hunting dog, she cared.

  She tried to engage her husband but each complaint was met with anger and indignation. Eventually she gave up. Getting yelled at for “not understanding his needs” and almost being punched scared her from asking again.

  Secretly behind her husband’s back, she enrolled in one of those specialized dating sites, the kind geared towards country folks, and looked for companionship.

  Jeanne didn’t enjoy being online. She preferred to live off the grid, but her husband insisted they have internet at their place no matter the cost. He said it was “unnatural” to live like Jeanne wanted: self-sustaining and reliant on her own skills. She had a long standing, deeply imbedded disgust for the government, something her parents ingrained in her as a little girl. Connected to the world over a technology she knew the government monitored only added fuel to the fire.

  Even with her reservations she found meeting other men online interesting. Various men spent hours chatting with her. Something she’d been missing from her absent and derelict husband.

  “Hmm,” she thought as she perused the profiles one day. “This one looks promising.” She clicked the profile and nothing happened. The internet connection stalled. The computer hummed but nothing changed no matter how many clicks she made with the mouse. She gave up for the night, turned off the computer, fed the cats, kicked out the dog, and went to bed.

  The next day as Jeanne tended the chickens, two black cars roared up the driveway. Clouds of dust followed. She stood with her hands on her waist. “What the…” she started to say. The cars screeched to a halt moments before what would have been a terrible mess of chickens and steel. Four men jumped out, two from each car.

  They wore black suits with dark sunglasses. They drew their sidearms, trained on Jeanne.

  “Freeze! We know who you are. We don’t need any problems, just come with us,” the driver of the closest car to Jeanne called out.

  Jeanne shuddered as four pistols aimed at her head.

  “I don’t know what you mean! Why are you on my property pointing those damn things at me?” Jeanne replied. She dropped her hands to her sides, wiping them clean on her pants.

  “Stop right there! Don’t move your hands or we will shoot!” the same man said. Her hands froze in a strange, awkward position not quite on her legs. One of the men ran to her and patted her down.

  “She’s clean, nothing on her,” he said back to the lead man.

  “I’m Agent Smith Conners, FBI,” the lead man said without dropping his weapon. “These are agents Drew, Bertman, and King,” he said as he nodded towards each one. King was the one who frisked her.

  “I don’t understand,” Jeanne began, “why are you here? What gives you the damn right to come on my property and point your guns at me? You’re lucky my husband isn’t here or you’d already been shot!”

  “Ma’am, we have orders to bring you in. You set off several red flags with your presence online lately. You’re wanted for conspiring with terrorists.”

  “Terrorists? What the hell are you talking about? I don’t even get online, I hate the whole thing,” she replied.

  “It’s the profiles you’ve chosen to view on the dating site. All of them were fake. All of them were shells for terrorist organizations. We’ve been monitoring you for a while now. We recognize when someone follows those profiles. Stop the act and come quietly. We’re authorized to use force,” Agent Connors said. He continued to point his weapon at Jeanne.

  Her parents were right. The government monitored everything, and her husband was the fool that let them in their house through the internet.

  A car pulled in the driveway. Agent Connors turned to see her husband pulling up behind them.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he called out. “Why do you have your guns pointed at my wife on my land?” Jeanne never felt so much joy at seeing her husband as she did at that moment.

  “Sir, this is none of your business. She’s wanted by the FBI. Now please stand back and don’t interfere.”

  Her husband looked the men over then shrugged.

  “OK, but be good to her,” he said. Agent King and Agent Bertman slammed her to the ground and bound her with handcuffs. They dragged her to their car and tossed her in the back seat.

  Jeanne’s husband watched the men climb back in their cars. Engines roared to life then they tore off down the driveway.

  He smiled, stroking his chin.

  “Damn, that was easy! I shoulda put the internet in long ago.”

  A Dragon's Bargain

  The knight kicked his inattentive captive. “Keep moving!” the knight shouted.

  Dragus listened and watched the men carefully. The knight in rough silver armor led a man in chains through the forest, his escort in the thick brush to either side of them. They almost caught Dragus bathing. Screams from the chained man alerted him to hide. He watched the pair trudge through the forest and thought he recognized the chained man. Yellow eyes narrowed as he stared, his nostrils open wide as he searched his scent.

  Then the sensation overwhelmed him. Anger, fear, disgust. His eyes shot open. He knew the man. All dragons did.

  He was the Dragon-Slayer. Friend of man and bane of dragons. Dragons feared him yet sought him for his horrendous crimes. After all this time Dragus had him in his sights. Smoke swirled out of his nostrils, his anger stoking the flames within. Wings flexed then he shot high in the air. A powerful roar echoed in the forest as Dragus swooped down ready to exact the furious vengeance of dragon-kind.

  Both men looked to the sky at the sound of the dragon. Dragus belched fire, flames trailing behind him. His giant leathery wings beat a rhythm of death in the air.

  “By the gods! A dragon!” the knight cried. The Dragon-Slayer couldn’t run as the chains held him back.

  “Come on man, let me out of these bindings! He’ll kill us both!” the Dragon-Slayer said.

  Dragus passed them, breathing a line of fire in the forest alongside the men. Bright orange and red flames ignited the dried timber. A wall of flame trapped the men on either side.

  “Can you kill it Dragon-Slayer?” the knight said. The roar of flames grew louder around them.

  “Release me from these cha
ins and I have a chance. Quickly! He’ll be coming back!”

  Dragus circled above them, roaring and shooting long bursts of flame from his mouth. His chance at vengeance sent him in a frenzy.

  “By the gods, kill it Dragon-Slayer. I release you!” the knight said. He unlocked the chains and thrust a sword in the hands of the Dragon-Slayer. Before he could turn away, the blade sliced through the air separating his head from his body.

  “No man takes Aydan and lives,” the Dragon-Slayer said. The knight’s head rolled away from the force of the blow.

  Dragus observed the men fighting and witnessed the Dragon-Slayer betray the other man. The time was right. Alone with the Dragon-Slayer, he dropped from the sky intent on killing the bane of his kind.

  A blast above made Aydan look up. Dragus breathed mighty flames towards the man. With his claws outstretched he exhaled a deep red flame but not far enough to injure the Dragon-Slayer. It was meant as cover so he could catch him in his long yellow talons.

  His plan worked.

  The Dragon-Slayer cowered from the flames and Dragus plucked him off the ground. The man screamed obscenities at the dragon. Dragus shouted and spit flames in front of him. Aydan struggled against the talons which kept him immobile.

  Silver arrows pierced the dragon’s wings. Dragus cried out. Smoke trailed from where the arrows struck. Volley after volley of the deadly silver arrows flew towards him from the forest below.

  “Ha, that’s it dragon! That knight’s guard knows your weakness! Your head will look spectacular mounted on my wall.”

  Dragus spun in the air. Arrows stung his large wings. Dragus clung tighter to his prey when Aydan taunted him.