Today we wander, past the known and into the strange lands of forgotten worlds…
The Canals of Venice
The gentle sway of the water lapped at the canals of Venice, as it did every day. The gondolas rode the waterways, and the tourists strained their necks to see the city’s beauty. But not one, tourist or resident, looked below the water, deep within the submerged depths.
Probably best for their sanity, their gaze turned elsewhere.
For underneath those tranquil looking waters lurked a world mislaid. A world of blackened hearts and broken promises, of righteous fury and rank betrayal. A world of Venice’s past sins and the not quite dead.
A world always on the edge of awakening…
Overgrown, it sits, a hole in a hill. It gapes like an earthen maw, this opening to some subterranean lair. Stone stairs climb to it, beckoning travellers—come, explore. So serene, and yet foreboding, its lure has tempted many of the curious and the foolish to venture inside.
Into its dark and dank interior, meandering down, down, ever down. So enjoyable until the realization sets in. There is no path back. Only wandering downward. Wandering forever, desperate, alone, never to see the light of day again.
I know. I’ve been trying to get home for a thousand years. Perhaps more.
The Angel’s Arch
Pale, silent creatures flanked the marble archway, a pair of winged angels; stern-faced, heads slightly bowed, strong wings curled ever so slightly. They both stood guard, awaiting those who dared to approach. And many souls did approach. Some sought solace, some sought hope, all sought to pass through the archway. All were turned away.
The dark-haired, black-eyed woman the angels awaited. The Queen returned. They bowed on knee as she passed through the shimmering archway. The world beyond greeted her in a chorus of hope. She greeted them with fire and war, and an army of bloodthirsty angels…
© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved