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Warrior Soul - Page 9

2006-08-08T18:27:00.000+01:00

Flying back, she could see more clearly some of her companions. They were larger than men, these birds, but seemed more gentle. She wouldn't be mistaken to believe them so gentle after seing what they had just done, appearences could be decieving. The light was growing as thier sun rose, if indeed it was a sun, or even the same Sun as on Earth. When she'd arrived in the body of Swift it had been dawn in this place, she wondered if it was the same in her own place? What is this place? She asked as the feeling that this was not a dream engulfed her.
This is Zamora, he replied. I'm taking you to a gathering place. She wondered about this gathering place, she had an idea she'd been there before and she was right.

Swift landed softly on a ledge on a sheer mountain side, directly below him was an opening much too small for him to fit through but that was where she must go. He instructed her to hang over the edge and swing through the opening.
"You'll be safe," he said. "Trust in yourself." And with that he took off and followed his kin deep into the mountain ridges to the side of the cliff. She had her body back! When did that happen, she thought.
She did as Swift had asked, tentatively hanging over the edge of the ledge. There were hand holds there and she used them to drop down at arms length. Looking into the opening, she saw her cave, The robed figure was still there and looking at her with gleaming eyes. Jenna swung into the opening and rolled on the floor infront of this hooded mystery.
"Quickly now, time is short." The figure said in a soft feminine voice.
She took from an ornate guilded box at her side a trinket, a necklace, made of some shining silver metal. She recgnised it at once, it was that which was taken from the spy by the eagles earlier. They'd left with it as soon as they could and must have brought it here.
"Thats..." She started to say but the figure hushed her with her finger.
"This is for you," she said. "You are to keep this safe."
"But..."
"There are no buts, no questions and no time." The chain was fasteded around Jenna's neck quickly. "Take it to your world and keep it safe."
Jenna was about to say thet she didn't understand then the woman drew close to her and in her ear whispered a word and, to Jenna, it felt like coming home.

Warrior Soul - Page 8

2006-08-08T17:28:00.000+01:00

Her dreams were filled with alien landscapes as she flew over them. The cave in her mind she glimpsed from the outside as she soard up the mountainside, warm winds carrying her onwards and upwards. Through the opening she saw a figure in a deep red robe, it's head was down and it was still. The whole world looked as though it was lit by the corona of an eclipse, it's dusky shadows long and forboding yet she was care free. Over Mountain and forest she flew, lakes and oceans like giant mirrors reflected her shadow. With great wings spread out, like an eagle, she glided over them.

On the Horizon she saw a large structure that looked like a mountain yet it was man made. A great city built on and around a mountain, many teirs of houses and streets wrapped around it's slopes. Smoke rose high in the sky and as she came closer, Jenna could hear screams and falling rocks. The city was under seige. From the lowest levels rising up the city there were vile creatures killing and destroying all they saw. Strewn around the walls were the dead armies of the King, his torn banner flapping in the wind. Jenna willed herself lower, she wanted to see more but to no avail, she was simply a passenger on the journey. Someone wanted to show her this scene, but why?

The bird wheeled in the sky, it was searching for something even Jenna could hear... the flap and whoosh of giant wings. And there it was, a dragon, flying low towards the city. Crying out, the bird dove towards the dragon at speed, it's cry was joined by several others all following their leader. As they drew closer, Jenna could see something being carried on it's back, it was a man. He was wrapped in blankets the colour of the dragon skin, but through the birds eyes she could see his shape dispite his disguise.
He's a spy, the bird told her in it's head. She was astonished that it knew she was there.
Some of the birds flew at the man, clawing and biting at him until he began to fall. They tore at him as he fell trying to tear something from around his neck, once they had achieved their goal they left him to fall. She followd him down to the point of no rescue and began climbing again to watch the rest of the birds diving at the dragon trying to bring it down. He was too powerful for them and swept them out of the sky with his clawed fists. She rose above him, watching him rolling in the air like in a dog fight with the birds.
Suddenly, with tucked wings, she bagan to fall out of the sky, terrified that something was wrong she cried out in fear.
Quiet, would you? This is important. The birds voice in her head calmed her as he was calm. He called the other birds to him and seconds later, like an arrow he plunged through the membrain of the dragons wing, tearing open a section. The birds followed suit and together ther sent the beast down to it's death. It fell for what seemed like and eternity, hitting the ground with explosive speed. Satisfied their job was done the birds turned and fled, they'd got what they came for and seen off their enemies.
On the return her host was a little more talkative.
I am Swift, he said. I'm the King of the Royal Eagles.
Oh, I'm Jenna, she stammered. I'm sorry for being a nuisance.
It's no trouble, he half laughed. You were brought here to see something, to learn something and to recieve something.
Oh, she was confused but didn't doubt him, such as it is with dreams you always have a reason for doing something even if it makes no sense in the morning. I'm sorry, I don't understand.
Don't be sorry, child. He said soothing her. All will become clear.

Warrior Soul – Page 7

2005-10-05T17:17:00.000+01:00

Hours pass by and she lays there still, vacant and motionless but for the rise and fall of her chest. The thoughts in her head run riot like brambles in the undergrowth spreading their thorn armoured stems and pushing through her subconscious in search of purchase. Why was she shown that scene? Inside she knows it was a memory but she’s not willing to accept it. How could she wield a sword with such mastery let alone be in that place with those things? Answers as forth coming as ever she’s left to abandon her inner search in favour of relief by way of the little girls room. Hauling herself from the cold tiles she stretches her aching limbs, the cold that penetrated her flesh abating slowly but surely.

Bright and high in the sky the watcher, seemingly smug and malevolent, casts its gaze on her as she passes the open window. The witching hour had come and gone with no sign or sigil to mark its passing, liquid time swallowing up the night as it has ever done, with efficiency and ardour.

Flopping back into her chair Jenna feels frustrated by her lack of ability to grasp the situation at hand. She turns her attention instead to work, tomorrow is another day and it’s a day she must endure all the same. It’s plain to her that she did something in her hours of lapse that she needs to remember in order to appear “normal” when she’s back in the rat race so to speak. Given the hours of absent memories, it’s more than possible she spent this time in the company of the dark eyed but handsome stress researcher she met at the office mere seconds before her swift removal from her own consciousness. What was it, a coffee, dinner, drinks or a walk by the lake perhaps? The sick day she’d pondered that morning was becoming more appealing by the minute but she’d only draw attention that way, she’d have to improvise.

Washing her face and neck she prepares for bed, donning a new nightshirt she hopes she remains in her bed forsaking the urge that takes her running through the night in this or some other place. Her bed sheets are cool against her skin, soothing the fire within her left by the days meditations and frustrations. Jenna slips from the waking world quicker than she’d have thought possible, falling into blackness with swirling abstracts of colour behind her lids lulling her further under the shroud of sleep. She’d fall until her feet were planted firmly on the shores of the sandman’s land, where every sleeper walks the night away seeing behind their own lids the dreams they’re living. The knowledge of the day staying with her as sleep claims her fully, already she’s remembered more than she ever has about her nightly jaunts. With the door of remembrance left ajar and unattended who knows what she’ll remember come morning.

Warrior Soul – Page 6

2005-08-20T20:24:00.000+01:00

No answers come, but do they ever? She flicks on the TV to catch the news praying that there are no unexplained deaths or beatings, she’s sure one day there will be and they’ll be her doing but there’s nothing this time. The feeling that she’s being watched has changed some how, she feels as though there’s someone stood behind her, yes, not only watching but also holding their hands over her ears. Her skin confirms no contact but the feeling is there nonetheless.

Time ticks by, punctuated only by the movement of the clock hands and the occasional stirrings from Jenna when she gets out of her lazy chair to get a drink or some supper. Stood in her kitchen she gets more and more frustrated by the day’s events. Struggling to gain purchase of her memories was becoming nigh on impossible, it was almost as though she was being blocked from her own mind.
“For Christ’s sake just leave me be.” She whispers to the night. As if in reply she’s wracked with and excruciating pain in her chest and abdomen, she collapses on the floor clutching herself and groaning. Tears swimming in her strikingly blue eyes as she slips away into herself once again. Her last thought is of her watcher as she sees a shadowy figure leaning over her.

Memories flitting like fireflies through her subconscious swirl on invisible winds, whipping up her emotions like autumn leaves. She’s reliving them but they’re not hers.

Suddenly she’s crouching on a rough stone floor in a dark damp place, listening to oncoming footfalls and rough breathing. She catches a smell of what smells like blood and instantly knows it’s her own. Her pulse is racing in her chest but she feels no terror, what she’s feeling is exhilaration. Jumping out from her hiding place she swings something cold and heavy, it was in her hand all along. In a deadly ballet of twists and turns she swings her companion, the shining steel rings out as it connects with her prey, they fall, not one but three. The three men lay there motionless, dark blood seeping out of their rent bodies. She thinks not of them as men because men they are not, their twisted features remind her of old horror films where lycanthropes and vampires rule the night.

She’s underestimated them and it could be her downfall, in a last attempt to save himself one of the things slashes at her, his claws raking into her ribs. The pain is unreal as she feels it afresh, last nights scars explained in full colour with Dolby surround sound. She dispatches him mercilessly, and for good measure decapitates all three.

With adrenalin pulsing through her veins she slips away from the scene, feeling more and more of the real world as she goes. The cold tiles of her kitchen floor have chilled her flesh almost to the bone, she slowly rolls onto her back. The light on the ceiling is stark and glaring, giving the room an almost clinical feel. She’s severely dazed, listening to her own breathing and the blood pulsing in her ears. Shivering with shock she lies there vacantly staring up, searching her soul.

Warrior Soul - Page 5

2005-07-26T14:14:00.000+01:00

Deep in the depths of her subconscious she flounders, feeling nothing but the thick blackness inside. The inner turbulence pushes her up and down so she comes close to consciousness only to be pushed down out of reach again. Teasing and tempting with the promise of the waking world she’s thrown here and there, but by whose will?

Slowly rising from the depths, the weakening waves cast her upwards. She begins to feel again, think again. Struggling against her mental bounds she fights free and begins to waken. With ringing ears and swimming senses she comes to, feeling like she’s been caked in syrup. Her limbs stiff and numb and her mind addled but she begins to recognise her surroundings. She’s at home.

Jenna stumbles and catches hold of the windowsill, she’s standing at the open window looking out on a peaceful dusk. The sun casting from up below the horizon a greenish glow, which slowly melts into a deep velvet star pricked mantle. It’s a perfect scene, which Jenna doesn’t trust. She’s definitely awake, her ribs are aching but she feels watched. Her memory is hazy but it’s fading in now like the tuning of a radio, catching small glimpses of scenes she’s in but doesn’t remember doing.

She flops in her chair, head in hands, wracking her befuddled brain for answers. She knows she was cast out of her own mind, she was panicking and she must have looked terrified, but who? Or What? The word whispered to her swims in her head and though it has no power over her here she still senses a distant memory of the change it sparked in her. The voice, guttural yet sweet, soft and caring.
“Narath” she says aloud.
Nothing but the sound of the wind in the trees replies.

The clock says 20:12. She’s lost whole hours to this thing in her head. Is this what happens when she sleeps? No, not possible, she tells herself. There are no more scars, no pain, and no anguish. And what of tonight? Will she again go running in the shadows of this world or in the deep dark of her mind?

Warrior Soul - Page 4

2005-07-23T23:54:00.000+01:00

Jenna feels her way around the walls the cave, she’s all too aware that she’s in her own head yet still it’s unfamiliar. She feels as though there’s someone or something standing just inches from her. She feels the static this entity is giving off and closing her eyes she can almost reach out and touch it, the seething mass of she knows not what. Shaking herself free of it she steps away.

On the threshold of the cave she stands in awe, looking out over a plane of softest grey. Three moons light the scene: one small and of pale pink, delicate as a dusty dessert rose; one the ethereal shade of the aurora, massive and foreboding; the last a modest silver watcher very much like our own moon, silent and sombre. The three crescents swung in the inkblot overhead with distain, they care not for the troubles she has.

Jenna looks down from her minds eye on a rugged and devastated landscape, she sees the wrecks and ruins of nature, scorched trees and parched grasses. Her cave is in the mountains and the drop from her holding is sheer and breathtaking, surely death is the only reward for an attempt at that insane decent. Below her the grasses are moved by the warm wind, they roll like a sea of quicksilver and to her eyes appear to breathe, to her ears the seem to whisper to her. She doesn’t understand their words but their voices she can make out. They call to her, call her name. Whispering things she can’t grasp with her mind.

There’s a sudden feeling she’s not alone, and the feeling seers through her body like white heat. Stiffening, she tries to listen for breathing or movement behind her. With her heart pounding in her chest and her blood rushing past her ears she misses the whisper carried out up to the heavens on the nigh breeze. “Narath” her companion whispers again, and this time she hears.

Numbness and fatigue begin to seep into her soul, her bones and her flesh. Her mind slipping away from her control she feels drugged. She’s frantic and lost in a sea of blackness, it’s clogging her senses like thick oil cleaves to the feathers of a sea bird dragging it down into the water. She’s slipping, losing control, falling away into emptiness.

There’s nothing more.

Warrior Soul - Page 3

2005-07-22T02:45:00.000+01:00

Sitting at her desk staring at page after page of code is how she switches off, her mind disengages and she strays off into her own little world. The thoughts she has there are foreign to her, it’s almost like reading a book but through the eyes of someone else, a different view and a different spin on things. Days like these pass quickly, time flowing like a flash flood rips events out of the day like the flood waters would desolate a landscape. What’s left in the aftermath isn’t always neat and tidy, but what can you do against such a reckless force?

Lunch comes and goes, and Jenna eats little. She only eats when the urge takes her but drinks copious amounts of coffee, it’s the only thing that keeps her going through the day. Because she eats little, the petite wreck that is her body is lean. She’s fit and her ribs and muscles show, not that you would notice through the baggy and ill fitted clothes she wears. There’s power in her frame but it’s disguised and shrouded by a glamour, the innocent and sickly look of her visage has a lot to answer for.

Jenna’s eyes focus, she’s aware of someone watching her. Feeling their gaze penetrate her flesh she shivers and turns towards them. Peering back at her are the most beautiful pair of deep brown eyes she’s ever seen, so dark they’re almost black. She smiles involuntarily. If the eyes are the windows of the soul then what do black eyes say for a person. Blushing, she feels he’s seen into her mind and turns away. Heart thumping and mouth dry she’s feeling the thrill of attraction again and she likes it but nothing can come of it, she’s tainted goods. Only the gods know what she’s become in the bitter bleak of the night.

“How are you feeling today, Jen?” Carl is the comparative doormat of all her supervisors, he genuinely cares, which is rare in her opinion.
She smiles and nods a non-verbal OK.
“This is Gary Sheppard.” Carl tilts his head in the new mans direction. “He’s been brought in to address stress levels in the office and is particularly interested by you and your insomnia.” All the while Gary is smiling, but a flash of recognition courses over his face like some spectacular celestial display of lightning. He’s been waiting to meet her and now at last he has. Her old excuses have come back to bite her and she feels her smile slipping. She’s panicking, startled like a rabbit in headlights, unable to stop the oncoming vehicle and unable to move.

Suddenly she’s pushed aside. She’s winded and feels like she’s been shoved only she’s still seated, and watching from inside herself. With horror contorting her internal face she watches herself rise and begin to make conversation.
What in gods name is going on here? She screams but no words escape her lips, she’s trapped and alone, confused but not scared.
Feeling like she’s been drugged she slips further into the blackness inside. The cave she finds inside her own mind has slime on the walls and is the most wretched place she’s ever been. The cave is dank and the musty smell reminds her of the smell when she first awakens. On the floor is the cold remains of a campfire long dead, when was I here last? She asks herself. And was I alone?

Warrior Soul - Page 2

2005-07-22T02:41:00.000+01:00

Breathing slowly Jenna watches herself in the mirror, her short mousy hair stuck to her head and her pale skin glistening. She looks tired to the point of exhaustion, yet she finds the strength to go on. As far as she remembers it's always been like this though the memory of the act, whatever that may be, eludes her. The radio now playing in the bedroom sounds out "Everybody's Talkin'".
"Goddamn alarm." She mutters to herself, opening the curtains to see the state of affairs outside. Dawn well and truly underway now and the birds start their chorus. "Today's going to be a glorious day."

The world is coming to life as it does every day with milkmen, paperboys, joggers and dog walkers all starting their daily activities. None of them knows what she's done in the dead of night, they're oblivious to it, ignorant, blinkered. All they hold in the world they hold dear to their hearts, they see nothing outside their white picket fences. Of course the fences only exist in their minds, along with the perfect little worlds they've created for themselves.

The sky is shifting from green to blue now as the sun flashes her sensual and beaming smile over the horizon, she's going to stun and daze today, showing her full glory. With the promise of a fine day at hand the prospect of working is a daunting one and Jenna is feeling as though a sick day would be well advised. Sadly it doesn’t always work like that and she swallows that thought with her coffee. It tastes hot and bitter just like her coffee and like the coffee will keep her working all day so she can come home and relax. Holding the last mouthful of bitter java in her mouth she thinks of home time. Savouring the sour pang and the smoky aroma it creates in her throat she closes her eyes and swallows. Time to go.

Jenna works with 2000 or so other people in a large business run by a major corporation. She’s one of their best yet underrated systems analysts, and that’s the way she wants it to stay. Even though she hates her job and has no friends there she stays with it to keep her going. They pay well and that’s what it’s all about. She takes the bus to work everyday, sitting there in her grey suit with that horrifically vacant look on her face. She’s devoid of emotion, and empty shell, or so it seems. Inside, her mind runs like lightning forming ideas, plans, and thoughts and just as quickly storing or pushing them aside. She feels a duality inside her, it pushes to be heard yet quells when it’s close to being discovered. She can no more put her finger on it then remember the dreams she’s been having for god only knows how long. She isn’t even sure they’re dreams, could they be memories?

Warrior Soul - Page 1

2005-07-22T02:37:00.000+01:00

From the clear night sky the moon peers down. A silvery disc looking on, like the eye of the watcher. Deepest indigo ink blots on the roof of the world, holds all in silent compliance. Even the cats are quiet tonight. A slight breeze tickles but doesn’t disturb. It’s as though the world is holding its breath, the expectant father to be. On the thick night air the cries of a woman are carried, shattering the silence with utter contempt.

Jenna sits up in bed, her cries still linger on her lips as she stares around frantically searching for a semblance of recognition. Already the dream is fading like it has so many times before, soon she’ll remember nothing and tomorrow this will all be new. Her sweat drenched body wracked with shivers and her skin is ice to touch. She lets out a whimper of relief and collapses forward into her own arms, she has no one else, she’s alone.

As if to mark her trauma dawn begins her slow ascent, shading the watcher’s gaze and turning the inkblot to a liquid rainbow. Jenna looks down at herself, the scars on her skin worry her, some are old yes but there are new ones now. Bruises and deep cuts appear on her body nightly, the now blood stained nightshirt she wears is a testament to the scars beneath.

Swinging her legs out of the bed she winces at the new aches she has. How many mornings has it been now? She wonders. How long? She shuffles to the bathroom and flicks on the light, staring at herself in the mirror she watches the pupils in her deep blue eyes contract to pin pricks and expand again. She’s a beautiful woman, or was at least until all this started, the waking up in the night covered in blood, the black outs, everything. She’s worried not for herself but that she’s done something terrible, and when she’s not herself who’s to know until she gets caught. She has no close friends now, she’s pushed them all away telling them it’s for their own good. It’s partly for her own good, they think she self harms and the scars she has don’t help her deny that. What’s a girl to do?

She strips off her nightshirt, drops it in the sink to soak and climbs under the running shower. The water feels good against her skin, cleansing and freeing her. She has what looks to be a slash down her right side and her ribs are tender, what kind of creature could do that? She thinks of the big cats. Couldn’t possibly be. Any thoughts are good as long as it keeps her mind off the job in hand. Sucking air in through her teeth she cleans the wound with a precision that is born of experience. The tears in her eyes make them look electrified and the snarl her bared teeth make is fearsome. Looking deep into her eyes she sees the fear of a child and the ferocity of a tiger. What’s the true nature of her soul? She wonders.