Drabble Wednesday: The Realm of Gods

Today on Drabble Wednesday I take you to see deities most fierce and terrible...

The Temple

It stands tall on its island, amid the eternal snow, casting its reflection in the surrounding lake.

The Temple of the Dark Gods.

So why is it quiet? Why do its halls stay silent?

Scarlet stains coat its marble floors and foul air seeps from its walls, a rancid stench of decay. Its gods breathe no more, its rooms house corpses, not deities. Murder came to the Dark Gods and left carnage in its wake.

Their own fault, truly.

Never raise a shadow you can’t control.

They will have to give their shrine a new name.

The Temple of Death.

~*~

When Things Go Awry

I thought I had all the time in the universe.

Literally.

I’m the God of Time after all.

But my existence was not quite that simple.

I found out too late.

The sands of the God of Time are running out, felled by such a spiteful thing as jealousy. I knew of my brother’s resentment, but not how the God of History wanted my place in the pantheon. He tried to steal my hourglass totem, but destroyed it instead.

Now I will soon be gone.

But I will have the last laugh. For when I die, the universe will follow.

~*~

Snows of Change

Winter followed in her footsteps.

A goddess of surreal beauty, silver hair and blue satin, swirled in snowflakes and frost, born on northern wind. Barefoot she walked, leaving a trail of prints in the falling snow that surrounded her.

She saw a man on the road, his mouth agape; the package he carried fallen unnoticed. She stopped before him, reached out, touched his cheek.

“Your world is mine now.”

His skin chilled, his blood froze, his heart turned to hoarfrost; he transformed from flesh to ice sculpture. She smiled and walked on.

The Winter Queen lived to conquer and destroy.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: A Strange New Year

Today, on this first Drabble Wednesday of 2017, I bring odd tales of the old year passing into the new...

  

Breakdown

“You just had to take the scenic route! On our end of the year holiday! And now the engine’s failed! And we’re stuck in some backwater nowheresville!”

“How was I to know? The engine was working just fine until, well, five minutes ago.”

“It was working just fine... How many times have I heard that?” Lips turned into a pouty sneer. “How long until mechanical assistance shows up?”

“They said about an hour, depending on their hyper-drive.”

“What! An hour stuck above this dreg of a planet called Earth? What could be worse?”

“Stuck over the spice mines of Kessel?”

~*~

Tales of Time

Father Time and Baby New Year, such quaint images of the one year passing to the next. Iconic representation of endings and beginnings.

Not true, of course.

The truth is far less... simplistic.

The Keeper of Time is more than an old man with a scythe and an hourglass. I am millennia and a millisecond breathing in infinite universes. I change the fabric of existence, snuff heartbeats with a flick of my finger. Each year I grasp life and death in my hands, and inevitably some of you will pass me on my long road.

Will this be your year?

~*~

The Heralding

They say the new year will be better.

They’re not paying attention.

Good.

We like it that way.

The signs are there, but humans are blind to our foul taint. Our coming does peculiar things to a world. Strange climate oddities, increased deaths, unnatural anger and aggression.

And hate.

We love the hate. It feeds us.

We will be strong on this world. We will feast on this world.

Consume it whole and leave nothing but an ashen corpse.

It won’t be long now.

The dead will rise from their graves, and the darklings will live.

Be seeing you soon...

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Welcome to Your Destruction

Today on Drabble Wednesday, the end of time and worlds await...

A Child is Born

Anya approached the dais. The All Mother gazed down at her.

“The prophesized child of dread is finally born. To the royal family. You, Anya, have been chosen to kill the babe.”

Anya nodded, honoured and secretly elated. “I will leave at once.”

Two nights later, Anya plucked the baby from his crib, cradling him gently.

“Do not worry, little one, I will keep you safe. I will make certain you fulfill your destiny. One day you will destroy the world.”

With a smile, and the child in her arms, Anya slipped out of the palace and into the night.

~*~

Last Breath

The smallest puff of air, like the flutter of wings from a long dead butterfly, brushed his cheek. He touched his skin, awed by the tiny sensation.

It has been so long.

So long since he felt anything, any touch, caress, heard any sound, gazed upon anything but burnt earth, and the approaching black abyss.

Nothing but the soundless scream of the silence and the emptiness.

He smiled. And for the first time in forever he rose from the earth. He swayed, unsteady, unsure on his feet. He started wobbling forward, walking.

I will go meet the end of time.

~*~

The Machine

Clack, clack noises, grinding creaks, whirs and squeaks filled the semblance of a nowhere room. A strange clockwork machine flicked and reeled and sputtered steam in a winding maze of peculiarity. Cogs and wheels spun on and on, while ball bearings rolled and tilted hither and yon, all twisted perfection of Rube Goldberg mechanics and absurdity. Each connection greased and harmonized with the next, all gyrating, puffing, wheezing life perpetually in motion.

Until it stops.

Until the last bit of starlight fades, and the pieces fail, and all the worlds turn to dust.

And this is how the universe ends.

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Time Askew

Today on Drabble Wednesday we turn back the clock, and push it forward. Come travel the darker lanes of the time stream...

That Competitive Spirit

Rivalry can make a man do peculiar things.

It can devour you, especially if it’s over a woman. That type of rivalry can drive one to madness.

I know. I fell over the brink some time ago when Seymour Danvers married my beloved Emily.

That’s when I first felt hate for the man. When I turned that rage to my pursuit of science.

The best decision I ever made.

For my great achievement in science undid Seymour.

Literally.

“Dinner’s prepared, Henry.” I smile at the sweet sound of my wife’s voice.

“Coming, Emily.”

My time machine was very useful indeed.

~*~

Wrong Turn

Wasteland.

Looking out the capsule window, I see devastation. Torn black earth, crumbling stone ruins, falling ash, grey skies cascading with streaks of lightning.

How did I get here?

I remember. I’m the first Time Astronaut. I was sent forward ten years, to record our fate.

Surely this is not how we ended a mere decade from now?

No. Something went wrong. There was—there was...

A storm. A time storm.

I look at the chronometer. It reads 30, 879.

No! It’s too far! They can’t get me back!

I scream.

But no one else is alive to hear me.

~*~

Descent

My race are the Keepers of Time. We record eons as they pass, hoards of annals tucked away in dimensional pockets of universe. Generations given to writing the histories of the planetary cosmos.

As I was given.

At the heart of our world swirls the Well of Time. It is what we breathe, how we see. We are connected to it through smaller portals, but are forbidden to gaze upon the Well directly.

I did not listen.

I stared into its unending black depths. I felt its ruthless pull, balanced at its edge.

Then I fell.

Into my eternal scream.

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Shadows

Today on Drabble Wednesday, we settle into the shadows…

Shades of Time

Beyond the ken of reality, I wait. Watching history pass, each moment a raindrop in infinity. I have seen the fall of Rome, a myriad of lovers kiss, the rise of empires, and the death of those whose names are unrecorded, save by me.

My fingers have touched rose petals and dust, my steps have walked through stars and mud. I have reveled in laughter, sorrowed in tears, and listened to my silence echo through centuries. I have lived surrounded by humanity, alone.

Pariah and observer. Recorder of history, never to be part of time.

That has been my punishment.

~*~

Lurking

Tonight, my friend, we talk of creatures, monsters hiding in the night. Things dismissed as stuff and nonsense, no? Perhaps they are more real than imagined.

I see you disagree. You reject them as fanciful tales conjured to scare the unenlightened. But are they? Or is that what we tell ourselves for untroubled slumber?

Such an indulgent smile you have. You believe me a mad, old man. Your incredulity changes nothing. The shadows of the night are alive.

What a deep laugh you have. You do not believe. Ah well, I tried. Still, my friend, do be careful walking home.

~*~

Accidental Encounters

How did I get here?

I’m stumbling in the dark. I can hear people around me, but I can’t see anyone.

I don’t understand.

What happened to me?

It’s hard to think, to remember…

I was driving, wasn’t I? At night. I recall headlights. Another car.

Wait. Is that light?

I run.

I can see the road. And flashing lights, with people.

And my car.

No. My poor car. The front end is smashed, the windshield shattered.

My vision clears. The flashing lights are police vehicles.

I shout. No one seems to hear.

I don’t understand?

What happened to me?

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Broken Things

Today on Drabble Wednesday I bring tales of broken bits and shattered things…

A Splinter of Time

The cracks decorated the clock face like a fractured spider web, radiating outward across the glass. No familiar tick tock rhythm filled the room, and the clock’s hands stayed motionless. Its tall, ornate body stank of wood rot and rust, and a layer of dust shrouded its once lustrous sheen. The machinery that destroyed it was gone, winked out of existence, as was the man who annihilated the universe.

Yet, the clock survived. A fixed point in the nexus of infinity. It remained as the atoms of the universe disintegrated, coagulated, dissolved and reformed, as time itself shattered and unmoored.

~*~

Fragile Glass

Shards of glass littered the lawn. Other bits hung off the frame of the sliding door. Jagged pieces even scattered over the hardwood floor. He stared at them, trying not to see the rest, or the tinges of red on some of the glass.

“I didn’t mean to, it was an accident.” He whispered the words to an empty house. “Everything just got out of hand.”

Perhaps he meant what he said, perhaps he believed it. The gun in his hand suggested otherwise. As did the body of his wife, resting on the lawn in a bed of broken glass.

~*~

Mirrored

“I’m afraid.” The tiny whisper broke the night’s silence.

The old woman smiled at the child. “Shush now, little one. The darkness holds terrors, but you must be strong. You've your mirror, yes? You remember what to do?”

The girl nodded. “Show the Dark-Beasts their reflection. Trap them in the mirror.” She sighed. “Like they were trapped before Mama broke the Otherworld looking glass.”

“Yes. But you will fix her wickedness. You will mend the damage and put right the world.”

The child nodded and closed her eyes. “We just have to reach the temple before the Dark-Beasts find us.”

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: The End of Worlds

On today’s Drabble Wednesday we journey to worlds of fantasy for some divine retaliation…

Midnight

His skeletal hand touched my shoulder, his tattered cloak cast its shadow around me. My hands trembled, and the sand in the hourglass I held tilted slightly. He had arrived, my sweet harbinger, my Death.

“It’s time, then?”

“Yes.” I could hear the hint of mirth in his voice.

I smiled, and tossed the hourglass.

It tumbled in freefall, the sunset rays glinting off its surface, until it smashed against the earth. A crack appeared beneath the remains, and another, as a world began to die.

We waited patiently, then Time and Death walked hand in hand through the ruins.

Retribution

“Blood on the snow.”

The words, from an ancient poem, came unbidden as Ryn stared at the crimson stain seeping into frozen ground. She sliced Akai's throat easily, with one practised stroke, and ended his friend’s life without hesitation. Ryn wiped away his forming tears.

“Am I the next to die?”

The dark creature in leather armour and swords smiled. “Have you also angered the gods?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Then your life is not forfeit to my blade.”

Ryn bowed his head as thick, inky smoke engulfed her, taking Nbea, Bringer of Death and Vengeance, back to her realm.

Punishment

An auburn radiance melded into the dark storm clouds, a blend from the fiery hues of the sunset, and the reflection of the flames consuming parts of the city. The gods had judged Irytajin and deemed it imperfect.

Seri and her child, dressed in elegant, rain-soaked robes, stood atop a neglected dais, as the waters lapped ever higher on the steps. They attempted escape, until the seas slammed their boat into this temporary refuge.

Seri let go of her son’s hand, and opened her parasol. She hummed as the waters swept her boy away, and calmly waited for her turn.




Just a note: Drabble Wednesday will be preempted next week to bring you a stop on the blog tour of the new fantasy anthology, The Toll of Another Bell.  Be sure to check back for a peek at the book, and my review.

Wishing Everyone A Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

Drabble Wednesday: New Year’s Eve

Here’s the strange and slightly out of this world New Year’s Eve edition of Drabble Wednesday…

A Glitch in Time

Tick, tick, tick

The sound in my head, always time tick-tocking.

Tick, tick, tick.

Shut it off! Stop the clockwork, stop the sound!

Tick, tick, tick

Something’s wrong, not right, always the noise, always the clockwork in my head.

Tick, tick, tick

Tick-tock. Goes the clock. Always in my head. Wish I were dead.

Tick, tick, tick

Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it stop!

Tick, tick, tick

What can I do? For silence, for quiet? All I want is quiet.

Tick, tick, tick

But what’s a mechanical man to do, when the clockwork is him?

Tick, tick, tick

Mystical Renewal

I watched as the crows flew past the shining moon, like flowing black ink over parchment. The lunar beauty dominated the sky, even overshadowing the darkening clouds. It was a perfect night to usher in a new year.

I poured the sanctified oil, shaping a circle in the snow, and knelt inside its confines, cold seeping into my bones. I bent my head and intoned the ritual prayer, extending my hands in supplication. For three breaths, I felt nothing, then the blessed radiance of the moon flowed into my flesh and blood. Suspended between earth and heaven before I transformed.

New Year’s Moon

~Base Dispatch News~

Well, Moon Base Alpha decked the halls for Christmas, and transformed the dining hall into a moonlight ballroom for New Year’s Eve. The party boasted a Dance Under the Stars theme with the latest holographic decorations.

Base personnel partied hard, donning festive hats and downing drinks. There were the usual indiscretions and high jinks, and chaotic excitement when Lieutenant Mills’ Flashineger Beastie got out its cage and knocked over the Orion cocktails. However, it was the midnight countdown that set everyone abuzz. No one expected our commander to bare his backside to ring in the New Year.