Excerpt of 'The First Wish'

    It dangled in the midnight breeze, that one silent whisper in the dead of night. The stillness calming the suffered land, which during day is struck with life. Yet now persisted the cold brushing of the air, that one which broadens the world with contained grief. But up stared the child which subtly wept, at the somber scorched tree. Though he wept, still he stood, glaring at what sway before him. And alas the memories came instead before the path he dared to follow.

    'Twas not so long ago one could say, though the child was a bit older; not of life lived but of composure, carried as a soldier ought. An evening of the Autumn twilight, when all the leaves bled their sorrows falling to their open graves, cast its rays betwixt the woods, landing on a shiny thing the young man had not understood. And so in his curiosity, or a charm which on him fell, lured by the strangest thing, lured as if by a spell. He walked with pride and poise on through the winding knolls where tempest grew- a blizzard of the Autumn blood, a flurry of a loving brood. Down he reached between the roots where nearly covered in leaves was an ashen vase sealed with clay bearing upon it a silver script he did not heed - not in the slightest - as for his disdain for life could say, for all the things he ever wanted found themselves in the past of days. The seal was broken, the leaves had scattered, and the twilight gleam hurled its heart onto the sky bursting into an awesome mess of scarlet and indigo. From the vessel a shadow flowed which sundered and scorched the tree above it and spread as a thick fog before which the earth quivered.

    The mist twisted and spun into the fleeting semblance of an old angry face with terrible blue eyes which bore a threat of thunder. As the man stared into the nearly animate glare, a blasting voice echoed through his skull. ‘I will grant you anything you desire,’ it boomed, ‘If it is that which you yearn most of all’. Finally, the fog dissipated as the night fell. And deep within, the child knew somehow that his wish would soon come true, need he only realize what it was.

    Snow began to gently fall, settling softly as a blanket, magically bringing another place, the most sullen of them all, one much ample than before, hostile, biting, yet beautiful furthermore. Though the child had walked few paces, a chilling breeze brought about a tapping on the tree, calling him once again to where he had found the vase. And what was as a sequence of steps ascended only slightly up the trunk, awaiting at their end above, that which dangled and sway clung to a bough.

    What could his wish have brought him here, a wish as well he could not know- until now shown translucently- until he'd reap what birth had sowed. And weep he wept- tears of despair which rolled down his cheeks bearing ash down as they swept. What began as slightly as a puff of wind which moves enough to make it heard, a ruffling of its air veiled the indecipherable whispers lingering past the other side of the noose.

    Stepped he closer to the loop, round which his eyes had glared those mutterings out into the wood, where those blasted through their hollows, as once he heard before. Before… somewhere long ago, perhaps, somewhere the snow isn't rising and falling as a mellow sea, and from it the leaves shoot from beneath into the air, gushing out to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Faster and faster they spewed, bringing about such red. Such as the haunting hecklers in his memories bred. Yes, before… When he was sitting in his silent chambers, playing out stories in his head.