Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Excerpts from a story that'll never be finished


There was once a kingdom… within it’s walls, there was the beginning and the end. During the time of strife, hunger and war, a prophecy was born:
“The kingdom as you know it shall cease to exist. The queen’s firstborn shall yield the next generation.”
 Fear engulfed the citizens, driven by the knowledge that their death was foretold. They stayed cooped up in their homes, but destiny was unavoidable. The queen did give birth to a girl and a boy, twins. But they were gone almost as fast as they came. Stolen, kidnapped. And so, the kingdom was wiped off the Earth.
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            The assailant had taken the queen’s newborns. Unsure of which one was born first, he decided it was safer to kill them both. They were so close to winning. These two infants were the only thing standing in the way of their era. As he fled through the streets of a neighboring village, the girl screamed and struggled. The assailant, finally frustrated, decided to silence their miserable mouths right there and then. He set them in a small alleyway and took out his dagger.
            He turned to the noisy girl first, raising the dagger above his head and bringing it down in the middle of the child’s tiny abdomen. In a few moments, the surrounding area became soaked with blood. He was so sure that she would die. He watched the boy carefully, but he had yet to make a sound, calmly watching his sister get murdered in cold blood. The assailant took out the bloodied dagger and licked it clean. Whatever her connection was to the mystic queen, she was still powerful by simple inheritance. Her blood would surely do him good. Especially if he went through all the trouble to get it.
            The boy’s eyes widened at the small glow coming from his sister. It was faint, so faint that only he could see it. The man, busy cherishing his stolen powers, took no notice to the supposedly dead child. It was only until the man turned to face him that their eyes met. The assailant fell back, surprised, for the boy’s right eye was red and his left, yellow. The assailant looked back at the dead girl. Sure enough, the girl’s eyes, while wide with horror, were the exact opposite of her brother. He felt her chest, which was rising heavily, but steadily. He stared at her in wonder, then at the boy. It was clear what had to be done. They needed to be separated. He took the boy’s small body, spread his wings and flew into the night.
            Leaving the girl, bleeding in the small village, was a mistake…