"Would Ma know it's me?"
…
The man kept glancing behind to check if anyone was following. In the dark alley of the city, he called home. For a while, he walked. Navigating through the landscape that would bend or curve, blocking you from your destination. And on occasions, he would have to swim through some unknown liquid.
After some time, he arrived. The place was hidden. From the outside, it looked run-down and tired. " No guards today, huh?" he said as a rat ran past him. "Oh… never mind then."
Entering the hut, he walked down a dimly lit staircase. Reaching the main hall, he saw the lights.
" You know, I can't tell if you like them or hate Sam." Behind him, a tall and lean figure spoke.
Without looking, he asked, "Where have you been?"
The man's response was nonchalant, as if to provoke Sam. "Ohhh… here and there." he glanced at Sam, whose clothes looked a little dirty, his boots muddy.
"And what about you?" He leaned in and whispered like rot, "Where have you been?"
"Fuck off!" Sam shouted, then shoved his arm through his chest. " I'll kill you if you try that again, you nasty fuck!!" his body spewed blood as it choked, before turning into black, gloopy liquid.
"Damn, a god of anger would be happy, you know?" He appeared from the shadows. Sam's eyes held no sympathy, nor did his face. The corners of his mouth curled, and his nose flared up.
"Calm down or you might pop a vein. Literally."
" Fuck off…"
"Ok, damn, I get it. 'Fuck off,' yeah yeah…" he walked away, but not before leaving a few words. "Good luck with the chief, hon."
"....." Sam said nothing as he made his way to the chief's hut.
"Damn, why is that kid always rough?!" he said, holding his chest. "That hurts, ahhhh…."
Sam was now at the chief's hut. The same black and red hues with a hint of white… his design. Walking in, he called for the chief. The hut was empty, except for a few pieces of furniture.
"I know you're in here." His glare sharpened. "So how about you stop?!!" His words fell into silence. "Ok, no answer?" he could feel the chief's glare, and to be blunt… It was suffocating. He rubbed his neck before speaking again.
"That man you're so afraid of is no god nor hunter." He gritted his jaw as he spoke. " He's just a frail man, who drops dead every 55 to 45 minutes!!"
He slowly dropped to his knees, trying to push himself up. "I cOuLd'vE of KILLED HIM!!!" he screamed and fell to the ground, his body pressing against it. "TELL ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!! WHY do yOU fEaR him!!.."
The force that pressed against Sam stopped… the room grew cold… and a voice so Eldridge spoke.
"Fear him?" it chuckled. "Yes… I'm scared, and you'll know why."
Sam lifted himself, coughing. "What do you mean?"
"Do you know the power of words?"
"What?"
…
Azzy sat on the edge of the window. Watching the moon dance as his blanket reached for the stars, while he hummed a soft melody. Behind him, the door slowly opens, and Cerys walks in.
" What you doing?" She asked.
He stopped and glanced at her right before smiling. "Thinking."
She paused. His smile wasn't normal at all. Something was wrong. Did he remember the dream? She thought before speaking. "…. Thinking? About what?"
"About the sword, the pen, and tongue."
"What about them?" Cery stood confused; he spoke without thought, as if involuntarily. His mind was clear.
" The pen is mightier than the sword, and the tongue is a weapon. Those two phrases…" he took a deep, long breath as if to catch his thoughts.
" So… you would think the tongue> the pen > the sword. But why is that? Isn't the sword the strongest?" he looked at Cery, his eyes widened due to curiosity, maybe anger? Or both..
Cery stepped back. His action and tone of speech aren't like this; it had spooked her. She gulped before answering.
" I think it's a form of symbolism, to show that something has a greater meaning."
"But why the sword? Shouldn't it have a greater meaning?" he persisted.
"Yes… The sword is the strongest, but that's all there is to it. It is a symbol of strength, that's why knights carry it.
It is a weapon that shows their strength and pride when it comes to protection."
"Yes, that's what I was thinking. A sword is mindless. It is used to kill or protect, defeat or defend. It is an instrument, a tool that can not be used without command or Authority, a rule." His shadow grew with his voice.
Sweat glazed down Cery's face. The night was young and cool, but a heat lingered. "Azzy, where are you going with?"
"And the one thing that the tongue and pen have in common is… words." he got up and slowly walked to Cery. "The ability to authorize and give commands. The thing used to set rules."
Cery was now pressed against the door by Azzy. "The pen set the rules and the tongue authorized it, Right?" Cery Said.
But Azzy replied with no excitement, no anger. His voice was slow, almost, if not sad. " Exactly," As a singular tear fell on the face of Cery.
Cery's hand went to hold Azzy's face, but he grabbed it. "When were you going to tell me?" He cried.
"Azzy—I…" She stopped herself…what would she say? What could she say?
"What are YOU??... Are you even real?" his lip curled into a smile, his eyes bent as if they were still hanging on. His brows gave up…. What was she to do… but lie.
"It doesn't matter what I am. I'm here for you, Azzy." She then pushed her hands to his face, easily escaping his grip as she grasped his face. "See, I'm real."
Azzy's eyes blurred when he looked at her. Right before passing out.
"Yoouu areee?"
She held him while he slept. Fearing the day he might leave her, if he remembers.
"I love you, Azzy, and that's why you can't leave me." Her eyes flickered. Tears flowed from them, right before she laid to rest on top of the man she called her lover. Unbeknownst of her treacherous acts.