Day 303 – Fascination – 50 Word Story Expanded

“Tell me, I want to understand,” she says, running her hands across the stone wall, feeling the rough edges of each word, of each picture, she turns to the wise man, and he smiles, placing the torches flame towards writings.

“Before time, at the beginning, there was nothing but Rah, and for countless centuries, only Rah was, that was until he grew tired of only being Rah, so he created Wikka Karra, giving it life, allowing it to bloom, to grow, to become something wonderful. But then Kah was born, how? No one really knows, some say Rah created Kah, because he wanted company, others say Kah is Rah, but whatever the truth, Kah was jealous of Wikka Karra, and Rah’s love for it, so he devised a trap, and somehow imprisoned Rah inside the center of  his beloved Wikka Karra, over centuries, Rah and Wikka Karra became one, they say, that is how Mittagatten was born, the sword is supposedly forged from discarded stone that Kah had dug away when he imprison Rah. It was then that the word split, and the first of my ancestors were born. For six generations, Kah ruled over my people, playing with us like toys, that many times he grew tired of,” he says, moving the flame across the wall, stopping over a carved image of a glowing blue ball of light.

“Then, the world split again, and the wall was born, and with it, came new beings, beings from another place, another world. Taka was one of those, he, at first, was lost, confused, his memory they say, blank, until, he touched Mittagatten, and then, something wonderful happened, something, powerful. You see, when Taka touched Mittagatten, he took on the lost power of Rah, interwoven with the power of Wikka Karra, and with it in his hand, he led the war to Kah, freeing my people, freeing the lands, but, he was still not whole, for, even though Mittagatten had given him powers beyond that of normal men, he still yearned for something he could not kno…”

“She has heard enough Poltial,” Taka says, as he comes from out of the darkness, she feels her heart skip a beat once more, and she did when she first laid eyes on this man who had saved her from the Dracon beast, who had risked his life for her children, without once asking for anything, she feels the tears well up in her eyes.

“Are you sure Taka? I am only starting, I haven’t even had the chance to talk about the thousand years that followed, how you united the world under one rule, a rule, of prosperity, but, everyday, without fail, you stood outside the wall, waiting for whatever it was you were waiting for, until today that is, today, is the first day since I have known you, that you have not left to stand by the wall, that…”

“The wall is no longer there anymore Poltial, now, please, enough, your attention is required elsewhere.”

He smiles and bows, “of course my lord,” he turns to her and smiles, “Miss,” he says, as he quickly scurries away.

They lock eyes, and she feels her whole body tingle, “I-I-Is, is it really you?” She says, slowly, nervously, inching her arm towards him, he flinches at her touch, pulling away, she pulls her hands to her chest, as she lets out a gasp of surprise. “Marcus?” She says softly.

“There is no Marcus, not anymore more, he is gone.”

Published by

Matthew Tonks

People are surprised when reading Matthew’s stories that he’s a sane forty something year old, happily married, father of one, employed full time and dream of dark disturbing things that any sane person would never even contemplate thinking of. But it's true, he’s toyed with writing for most of his adult life, but has always found the peg a writer must fit into is not the shape he wished to be. His writing can be described as lamenting, long, concussive (yes it smashes you in the head), compulsive, and stuffed with rhythmic communication and violence, let’s not forget the violence. His own opinion on his writing is this, “You see, I don't just want the words to seep into your mind, but into your soul, showing you images of blood and beauty through, volatile language, violence, sex, love and sin. My muse takes different shapes, and every now and then you can see her shining her wicked smile in some of my stories, tempting you with her promises, but ripping your heart out instead.” So have a look, and take a seat in my wayward ride, as you join me while I purge through, this twisted road of madness.

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