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UntitledIt was a clear winter day when the ground began to tremble. Not a sudden shock which one would reference with an earthquake, but a steady rumble that grew and became louder and stronger and nearly thunderous as shapes rushed past outside the rickety door. Horses with men in their saddles came storming into our snowy village.
Against my father’s will I ran outside, dagger in hand to see what was happening. Across the way I saw a wild looking man with filthy long hair who reared back on his horse and struck down a small figure. As they came down the hooves of the horse dug deep into the back of the child. His pale stained face turned towards me in its last second of life, my friend, Elijah. A light from the man's outstretched arm tore my eyes away from him. The barbarian was going to set fire to Elijah’s hut. Even with my friend gone I felt a need to defend his home. Rushing forward I saw the man’s fingers relax and falling from them was the lighted torch. Flames flickering upwards with wisps of smoke following, it landed on the low roof of his hut.
The man turned to me and drew his sword. Swinging it down upon me I saw my own reflection in the blade. I stared, my eyes wide and my lips parted. On my cheek there was a smudge of dirt, the only flaw on my porcelain skin. My short hair was ruffled and messy. My clothes piled on dark and ragged. The blade swung closer and the semblance of myself rippled with its contours. I could no longer see my face, but the bright blue reflection of the sky.
A dark flicker of a second passed that I could not remember. My eyes open and fill with an image. The hut stands at an odd angle and is taller than usual. What seems to be a small distance away was the torch on the edge of the roof. The flames stayed close to the torch tip, as if considering, wondering if it should step out and spread upon this foreign yet beckoning substance. At last a small flicker, perhaps a piece of hot ember, bit the dry straw and within moments, it was engulfed.