By A. Lynn Jones
In the Sky
Why do we still check under our beds at night, and close our closet doors as if we were for somereason expecting someone... someone to just show up from nowhere?
Legend has it we are not alone
And this us humans have always known,
For in the darkness do monsters roam
Within that realm they call they're own.
This darker plane, it mirrors our time.
Mimics our land, and shares our sky.
In this place, only a difference slight;
There is no day, there is no night.
Yet we are sheltered from their avail.
The planes asundered without fail,
Behind the thing they call the Veil.
Or so they say in the old world tale.
But it is certain some believe,
that on this dark, fall-time eve,
the Veil will crumble... sink and reeve...
and let the worlds interweave...
O'er the hills, where the forest sinks it roots, there hail the trees that close in upon the offering of their space unto mine. Vines crawl, whimsy and determined to tread up this stonewall that has seen even the moss die through its many an agings. This place, even still, does it tower mighty over the feigning redwood that have yet to catch the parapets of the lowest tower. The leaves will only glower at the castle top, a glisten in their eyes by the stars of the twilight.
It is this glare that spreads upon the sea of trees in their fit, as a breeze catches their limbs and waves at this indignant place, this humble castle stead; a singing creek, the whistling woods, the candy scents chased from the last flowers in bloom, and even the frogs try to creep into our keep--
-- But all I can sense... is the fires...
It sears in the forest land maze, cries out with a scream laid thick in cracking wood, and the march of their soldier's footsteps tremble closer here. I smell their oily, green-skinned hides and hear the voices of their chanting, moronic numbers, and from my place atop a spire I bare my teeth just as the War Growl rumbles.
In that hiss, then I am off, beyond the spires and to the brim of the castle keep. So fast that the dying grass gave shudder, I clung my way to the top of the front gate to await the reckoning of their forces.
I damn their ilk for coming here, I hiss at their destructive armies,
for they've burned the forests down every other year just upon the harvest!
Screeching, I demand the company of my brethren who stalk to my command, and lay claw upon the gate columns and together we shall stand to face their marching. I dare them to approach us now, for by the first fall of the dreaded rains have we gathered. We are the shadows beneath the storming clouds, where the lighting flashes at us on the highest towers. Upon the tallest parapets of which we clung, together every creature of the brood had clustered. Our talons were sinking lovingly into our own domain, which had been littered plenty already with the holes of our passing. But they were our holes indeed, and no one else would be damned enough to make another!
Crash! The thunder haunts the rain, and the breaching would soon begin.