Memories

         All these however, were mere terrors of the night, Phantoms of the mind that walk in darkness. Memories that have long plagued Arthur, for long he had sought to see his long lost home. His home, which once was all he knew from before the chaos. Before he was forced into this life of war, and strife.

         Once, this was the prosperous town of Wyrnhelm. Now, ripped apart by conflict. Arthur Dracus walked down the center of this solemn town’s main street. This street was once filled with smiling faces and carts pulled by horses. But that was all gone now. There were no people, no signs of life at all. Shops and taverns lined both sides of the street. The buildings were all torn, broken and battered by the elements. Rubble lay strewn about the street, pieces of the broken buildings. Dust and fog had taken up residence in the city, leaving this once beautiful place in a permanent gloom.

         Arthur halted. Dropping his head, he stared down at the ground. There lay a small brown stuffed bear, half buried, covered in dust. The bear’s cotton innards burst from its chest. One of its black button eyes hung by a string. Arthur could feel his heart pulsing throughout his body. He lowered his hand to the book hanging from his belt, his grip turning his knuckles white. A single teardrop rolled from his eyelid, hanging for an instant before falling to the ground, turning a spot of dirt to mud.

         A funny sound began to beat in the back of Arthur’s mind--A simple rhythmic sound, like ticks to a clock. Reticent the sound was, audible yet not registered; like a dreamer who lays asleep, hearing the surrounding noises yet does not stir. Lost in deep thought; Arthur stood in the middle of the street. This was a city of memories to him. Blinking, Arthur cocked his head. Something is wrong, he thought, craning his neck. He lifted his ear to the wind; a sound lingered in the distant winds, delicately echoing over the street.

         The sound grew louder and louder. Arthur’s eyes grew wide. Realizing that it was the sound of footfalls from an animal he was hearing. Something was coming fast, and it was coming straight at him. Quickly, Arthur drew his blade, whirling around to face the cadence. He stood for long moments; sweat dampened the back of his neck as he stared down the street, beyond the fog, into the unknown. A gray outline revealed itself from deep within the fog, like that of a wolf, but this was no ordinary wolf. A massive figure materialized through the fog, the body of a man, as well as that of a wolf. Two deadly creatures mixed in to one deadly aberration of nature.

         The creature made a giant leap, aiming straight for Arthur--He watched the beast as it hurdled toward him; its muscles rippling from the force of its jump. Its gray fur rustling around its body in defiance to the rushing wind. Mouth gaping wide open, revealing its sharp deadly teeth, stained red from blood. Drool streamed from its maw, saturating the fur surrounding its face.

         Arthur was struck by fear, but his body knew what to do, his training took control. Quickly, he raised his sword above his head to parry. Sliding his feet apart, he ducked beneath the beast. Its claws scraped against his blade, sending sparks gleaming across the metal. The force of the blow caused the blade to wail, its hard metal resonating with an eerie ring. He had fended off the attack.

         Spinning on his foot, he turned tail to watch the bloodthirsty werewolf make its landing. Its paws skittered over the street, kicking up rock and dirt. Standing up on its two legs the monster turned to face Arthur. The beast stood easily a head over Arthur, its fiery red eyes burning with hate from the pit of hell itself. A low rumble resounded from its throat as it growled. This wolf-man was in a bloodlust, the sensation shook the beast’s body; driving it insane from the thirst of warm blood. Arthur stood ready, wielding his sword in front of him. Sweat drenching the white collar shirt beneath his armor.

         The angry wolf could smell Arthur’s fear. Sniffing the air, it savored the meal to come. It began to circle its prey, watching, snarling. The beast surged forward, lifting its massive arms to strike. Swiping at Arthur with its sharp claws, it smashed into Arthur’s blade, sundering the weapon. Stunned, Arthur was unable to recover in time. The monster struck again, bringing its razor claws down on Arthur’s left arm. Blood gushed from his arm, gore streamed through the air and onto the ground, dying the street dark red.

         A scream let loose, as Arthur slammed to the ground. His heavy plate armor crashing over the stone street. His blade skittered uselessly away, out of arms reach. The pain coursed through him, wracking his mind and body in pain. The monsters claw had sliced clean through his arm, through armor and bone with ease. Yet, his arm held together still, hanging by tendon and un-severed muscle fibers. The pain was unbearable, it clouded Arthur’s vision, tears flooded his eyes. He gripped his arm as he tried to quell the agony. Hot blood washed over his hand, making the flesh slippery to the touch. The lower part of his arm had twisted round, leaving the tendons overextended and stretched for there was no bone keeping his arm from spinning.

         In desperation he kicked at the wolf. Blinking the tears from his eyes. He could see the beast; the glow from its burning red eyes being obscured by the liquid in his eyes. He kicked, trying to drive himself backward, away from the monster. The wolf hovered nearby, lapping up the warm blood that spilt upon the street. Arthur had no hope. No chance. This was his end, laying here, covered in blood, dirt, with tears streaming over his face. This monster had bested him. Arthur fell backward, too weak to move any longer. The burning from his lungs sapped his energy, making the effort too great.

         Arthur’s vision went dark. Through his mind’s eye, he could see a girl screaming. But it was a joyous scream. She was laughing, and smiling. Memories flashed before him. He remembered his home when he was young. He was in love with a girl. He could see himself buying a soft teddy bear, and later, bringing the bear to the girl’s house. His gift was accepted with open arms. She was happy, and so was he. He could see himself standing there with her, smiling at each other. But now, it was all gone. All gone. Everything he loved and cared about. Stripped from him as if it were all nothing.

         Arthur snapped back to reality, only a moment had passed. He found himself screaming, “No! No!” he repeated. The simple word rasped his voice as he choked on his own blood. Spitting up red liquid, staring at the sky he fell onto his back, he knew it would be the last he ever saw. The sky. The fog had somewhat cleared from over head, revealing the alluring stars above. In the corner of his eyes, shone the full moon in all its beauty, the magnificent white moon. The everlasting eye which encircled the Earth, staring down at him. Though it offered little hope, its beauty gave a slight comfort to his being.

         A flash of brilliance filled his vision as a white light shone over his eyes. A man stood over him, staring down at him.  The figure emitted a brilliant light, a beautiful light. It is not the werewolf. This light could only come from the holiest of entities. Warmth washed over Arthur. He could feel life returning to him as his mind cleared and his bodily pain resided. Hope returned to his heart. Arthur smiled. “Malicon,” he whispered, “my brother.” The words barely escaping his lips before the sleep took him. He fell limp, unconscious from his drained energy. He could sleep now. He was safe.