Imagine a bustling market street, there are stalls lined with colourful vegetables, cakes, a man stands behind a stall of pic'n'mix olives; the street is alive with the sound of chatter, people milling in sections up and down the street, discussing the day, the weather. Notice a girl, she's wearing a trench coat, holding an umbrella up as the rain gently trickles down from the clouds. As people gather under the stalls for cover, she continues to walk through the street, she's got a curious look on her face, as if she's pondering something much deeper than the direction in which she's travelling. She looks smart, her attire is in good condition, her hair is clean and styled, she looks as though she's had a healthy life, she's wearing sparkly jewellery and a lipstick that's bright. As her eye catches yours upon passing, you notice this scene is not what it seems.
Her eyes, they sparkled in the light, but there was a melancholy to them, a story, one you'll probably not be invited to hear, but it's the story that reads out continuously to her.
It threatened to destroy Fantasia, 'the nothing' takes many forms, for this story, we'll call her D.
The girl in the market is me, or at least the character I'm going to become to tell you my story.
I'm filled with uncertainty as I tell you this tale, the fear of not telling it, means certain victory for D.
So here I stand, rain is pouring down and I notice I'm no longer stood in the bustling street, but in the vast expanse of the valley, it's dark, the only light comes from the thousand strong torches that march ever on towards me. The drops of rain splatter onto my armor, there's a cold chill in the air and I grasp my bow, arrow held at the ready. I'm going to die tonight is all I can think, but I have the weapons, all I need do is fight.
I don't remember when I first met D, I'm sure hidden away in a buried deep memory that moment exists, but right now I've no recollection of it. Too many stories, chapters, characters, events and plots have played out for me to be able to place that one for now.
I remember only this, she came in the dark of night, she held my hand when I was alone, she was a faceless whisper that began to haunt my dreams.
Her digs and comments were at first brushed off my smartly worn clothes, she began to eat through the fabrics until her venom burnt my skin.
I was afraid by this point, but who could I tell, I would only be judged, ridiculed, misunderstood.
So I let her stay, there in the shadow she fed, she grew, until one day as I looked in the mirror, I no longer recognized the girl looking back at me. She was harsher, worn by life, she looked sad and lacking in confidence, passion and spirit. As she stared me down, I felt as though I'd been lost, for years in the wilderness, and by some strange moment of fate, I'd stumbled across my own reflection. Realizing that if I couldn't wake from this dream, it might hold me forever captive.
I came to the horrendous conclusion D was not a faceless whisper, I was her, I was D.
Except I wasn't D, for she is the true temptress, the devil in disguise.
She had cast her enchantment and I had been ensnared by it.
She looked like me, but she wasn't me.
The chill in the air grew stronger and as the army of snarling orcs moved in toward us, I held strong and pulled my arm back, as I released the arrow it shot through the air, graceful like a ballerina but steady like a bullet and caught him or it right between the eyes, he fell to the ground, the few around him moved back a step.
The howls of the fear reaper's shrieked across the battlefield, I dug my feet down in position and pulled forward my sword.
They're but demons and I am the wizard, the elf, the king whoever I dream of being I am, for I am truly the shape-shifter. I will not be killed here tonight by these demons.
The sound of the street was like an orchestra of noise, stall men yelled their daily offers, old ladies chatter about the spitting rain clung to my ears like the very drops of rain on my favourite trench coat, I was making my way swiftly through market street headed for home, home I wondered, where even is that. Is it the town in which I was born? Is it the city in which I studied? Is it the town in which I live with the man I love? Or perhaps it's the far off shores where my dreams stay blissfully moored while I struggle in the maelstrom to reach them.
I caught my reflection in a window, I am truly lost.
My armor was splattered with blood, only some of my own, I could hear my breaths shorten as I wheezed, the pain in my chest where the Orcish dagger had pierced my armor began to sting as the rain began to clear. The stench of death clung to the air, as I lay there motionless I knew I was victorious. She'd taken her true form as a fear reaper but D was gone, not destroyed but wounded enough for now to keep her back in the territories outside of my immediate kingdom.
I may not have been able to protect my allies but I had made it through the night, as the sun dawned on the East, I took my last shallow breath.
I rushed into the coffee house out of the pouring rain, my breaths short from running the length of the street, as I closed my umbrella and took off my coat, the barista brought me a cinnamon latte. I'd never much liked Cinnamon as a child but these days I found it to be a particular favourite, along with hazelnut, ginger and pumpkin. I glazed around me, the strangers drinking their coffees and chatting away had no idea who I was, most of them seemed so involved in their moments that they wouldn't have known I even existed. Except I did and I do.
While I may not always have sunshine's and rainbows, I have the weapons I need to fight. Sometimes we are knocked back by our demons, but with a fell swoop of our swords we are able to knock them back too.
I don't know if I will ever truly rid D from my life but tonight with the help from my allies, I was able to fight in battle. The war may not be over but tonight I will drink to my friends, my passions and my life, for it may not be glorious or the tale you tell your children, but it is my tale and mine alone to tell.
I find the comfort of loved ones, the study of interests and the comforts of restoration become my weapons for battle when I am weak, when D threatens to consume me. Lately those studies have come to include fighting off the triggers that awaken D. Deep thought, dreams and my compass to navigate this globe of life often bring me dangerously close to awakening her slumber, but facing the fear-reapers I hope is the way to defeat them for good.
I am a word-smith at heart and my words are the blows from my weapons I will unleash to keep the fear-reapers at bay.
Sweet Dreams,
Aces Kage
Word-smith, Story Weaver, Dragonborn, Hell bringer.
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