I smiled at my window as the trees brushed against the glass. My family was quiet about the past, along with everyone that I knew. The silence from them was defening, but the night called to me with open arms. A way to embrace this monstor was something that had to be done.
My feet creaked under the wood-tiles as I creeped outside into the harsh duskiness. The air was thick and bleak, enough for heavy clothing. Clanging to the sleeping cloths on my back, I whisked to the bricked shed.
His sword would be in there, I thought.
Father was important to the village. He witnessed the bloodshed of Wonderland, a ruthless struggle between the queens. One sought the vague aggressors that lingered not in the man-made streets. The other rifled through the people within their borders.
My father was one of the selected. He was foolish to think that war would be easy, but he did not understand then. I only fathom this concept because of the stories.
Inside was warmer, but still frigid. A trunk laid in the center covered in layers of lint and dust. Doing this would mean immense trouble, but would grant tremendous honor. I smiled in the dark, as my hands clamp around the handle, opening the trunk. Under quilts and blankets was the shortsword, built for war.
The hilt was pure black gold, and the wording engraved in the blade was made of pale silver.
The Weak can never forgive, I read. Thinking nothing of it, it was soon strapped to my waist and sheathed.
Time to go.
YOU ARE READING
The Monster Within
ParanormalMichael is a young boy that loves his family and village. He also understands that the monsters in the stories his father tells will only come alive if he believes they exist. Michael believes every word of the stories. And he is willing to make the...
