Dark Arthur

Discussion in 'Collaborative Stories' started by AllegraBeloved, Nov 26, 2010.

  1. AllegraBeloved

    AllegraBeloved Registered User

    May 8, 2009
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    Here's a story.
    Please rate this and any comments you have please review.

    In the sixth-century a child was born, destined to be the hero of the ages. He would drive the Saxon invaders back from Britain and unite the land.
    But unknown to the world at the time a terrible darkness would follow and consume him.

    The darkness paused then it seeped into the room, extinguishing the lights from the candles that were lit around the room. Suddenly the child awoke. It began to cry. The darkness formed a solid shape into what could be assumed as a man. The child paused in its crying and looked on curiously. It seemed to be unafraid, and the darkness jumped back. There was something about this child that shocked it to its very core. But it resumed its original form and began to undertake its original duty.
    It caressed the face of the child until it had fallen asleep. Then with teeth that seem to grow longer and longer as it thought of the life-blood that coursed through the child’s veins and then it struck. The child screamed.

    Eighteen years later the child became a man and did extraordinary things.
    He defended the British borders from the Saxons and became a great King and leader, residing in his castle in Tintagel.
    Yet he was not happy. He was happily married, though with no heirs. He shuddered. To think of unleashing what coursed around his veins, to a child was horrific. Why the darkness that still seemed to pursue him had chosen him that night he was still unsure. It had told him that it admired his strength. He always had wondered how he had managed to accomplish so much in so little time.
    It was the demonic strength, the lightning quickness and his fatally cool skin that only seemed warm after drinking and eating. He didn’t care for the diet that the darkness had provided for him. Though he knew that he drank the diet on the sly, no-one other than his friend Merry Lion knew kept his secret. He contemplated how he had managed to survive that night. The sun had arisen early and so had caused the darkness to flee. It had left him only half a demon. He had to drink blood but could walk around in the sun, which he relished for he knew when he died he would become the full demon to walk the night forever. Merry had told him that when that day came, he would have a special tomb made up for his friend where he could go and when everyone that the man knew was dead and buried then he could return. The man wondered how soon it would be and whether he would manage to stay hidden for so long. Merry would provide the shelter from the sun as well as the sustenance for him to survive. The man was so lost in thought that he didn’t realise the sun had gone down and he shivered even though he barely felt the cold anymore. It wasn’t the night that gave him the shivers; it was the things that wandered in the night. He sighed, turning from the land that he loved. He didn’t know at the time that it would be the last time that he would ever see it, the way it was; beautiful and unchanged again.

    The next day the man was confronted, war was waged and his wife accused of being a heretic. She vanished and long before he knew it, the man was run through with his sword’s twin.
    Merry hid his body, and to this day it’s still hidden.