Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Akazor (chapter 1)

As I lay dying in a rotten wood box, I realized I there were still things I did not leave as I would have wanted them to remain after I die.

My life was quietly happy and normal as it had been for the 6 years I was old. As it had been for generations in that little farm in the middle of nowhere since my ancestors moved and colonized the small grasslands in the middle of the endless forest.

Back in those days, when I was still young enough to climb the tall trees like they were stairs, and play with mudd to make little ammunition for the small sized battle catapults my grand father used to make for my cousins and I to play with, a great thunderstorm came to the forest from the mountains far east. A storm I would never forget. A storm that would change my life and the others as we knew it.

Water poured through the gaps of the crashing ceilings of our homes, as we watched frightened the thunder's lightnings strike the woods making some trees explode with the impact.

And then... They came. Beautiful looking vestires they were. Tall and strong. Proud and with a presence of mighty warriors from the tales we read of old story books. The cloud riders.

We stood there, numb struck and pale before something beyond our comprehending, our bodies frozen not only by the cold water soaking our cloaks and weaven pants, but for the stunning look and indescriptable power those beings portraied.

In that silence, as those riders of the above fell with giant thuds from the skies like great drops of water, my grand father stepped forward. With a sign of his hand we had seen thousands of times when we played, all of my male cousins and I knew what he meant: take the week, the ill, the young, the old and the females to the forest. All the little children screamed to their moms and sisters and pushed them away from the imminent war zone towards the fiery forest, which already seemed safer.

The grown men and the trained young adults stood proud as the others fleed from their sides. Fearless statues of the men I knew and lived with daily looked blankly at the tall newcomers who threatened our peacefull way of life. I stood there, by my fathers side, watching as the pale white-blue creatures stoped dropping from the clouds.

And then it began. War.

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