Optimistically Cynical: A Short Story Compilation- 1

SACRED LAKE

I'm not laughing anymore. There's nothing funny about the devastation surrounding me. Nothing amusing, about the smoldering ruins of what once was, my home town, where I am now, the sole inhabitant.

Everyone I've ever known, everyone I've ever cared about, they're all dead. I just, I just want to cry, but my mind won't let the matter rest. It has to know why. I try to think back, but it's almost impossible. I try anyway. Slowly, it comes.

It was a nice quiet evening. I was walking along, looking for excitement. It was so quiet, so dull. Then all at once, they were there.

There was no warning, no announcement, they were just suddenly there, a line of horsemen appearing as though from the air, charging at full speed. There wasn't anything I could do.

I don't know who was the first to fall, but I felt their blood rain upon me. It was only by chance that they missed slicing open my face, and I took advantage of that blunder. Not heroically. I'm definitely no hero, just a simple coward. I allowed my body to fall and mingle with those of the slain.

I shut my eyes as tight as possible, and willed myself to block out the sounds, but I still heard them. The screams. The cries. I can still hear them. One by one, they all fell. No one was left alive. No one, but me, but then the horsemen didn't know that.

I kept my eyes closed and prayed that I wouldn't be found out. My prayer, was answered.

I remained, lying upon the ground, amidst the dead, for some time, before I dare open my eyes. When at last I did, I saw it. The destruction, the bodies that lay all over the street. The buildings burning to the ground. This was complete annihilation.

Now, with the enemy nowhere to be seen, do I feel my anger boil within me. Now, do I feel my strength come to my arm. I pick up a rock and hurl it into the darkness. I screamed after my enemy.

I call down upon them any curse I can lay my lips to, but it's no use. The enemy is already gone, and my anger is leaving me, being replaced with sorrow.

I fall to my knees and press my hands against my face. I weep, and the tears cascade down my face. I look to the dead and beg their forgiveness. Perhaps, if I had been like the characters in the stories my parents told me, when I was young, perhaps, if I had at least stood my ground, then maybe things would have been different.

I could possibly have even laid waste to those marauders. At least I might have saved someone, anyone, but I hadn't. I didn't lift a finger to help. I didn't even try to at least, impede the butchery. I simply hid myself away, like a coward, and waited till the danger passed.

I'm near to surrendering what life I have left, when I remember something. A thought, that invokes a memory, in the back of mind. I wait and the thought becomes stronger. I know what I have to do.

I almost smile, as I stand up and hurry on my way, each step bringing with it renewed hope. There is a way, and I'm going to seize it. Salvation is at hand, but there's something more, a feeling of uncertainty, I push it away. I know what I have to do, I can yet redeem myself.

It's thinking of the stories that made it come to the surface. My parents told me many bedtime stories, one of which was a legend. The legend of a lake where the dead were interred.

A sacred place, where their souls were bound and waited. Waiting for the day, when they would be needed again.

This is that day. I will release the souls and set them after those horsemen. I may have been a simpering coward, and can never make up for it, but at least, I would avenge all those who died this night.

With each step I can feel it, the power that rests. For that very same lake of legend, is no more than a short walk from where I had fallen. I can see it all, clearly within my mind. I will unleash the power. I will wake the sleeping souls and together, we will ride down those villains.

Then at least, I would be able to stop them from carrying out the same deed. I would prevent this pitiable circumstance, from ever happening again.

I am nearly salivating, as I think of the promised retribution, that will be mine, once I reach my destination. I break through the trees. Before me, spread out as far as the eye can see, is the lake which houses the sacred dead, the catalyst for my vengeance.

I wade into the water and I don't care that it's ice cold. I don't feel it, can't feel it, not when I am so close. Each labored stride bringing me still closer to the center of the lake, to the epicenter, from which I can release the needed power.

The water is now too deep for me to walk, so I have to swim, but I can see it. The stone edifice that lays dead center. With renewed vigor I swim as fast as I am able, the end of my nightmare is within my grasp, it's only a matter of time.

My hand reaches out and I hold onto the edge of the raised stone floor. I lift my body from the water and stand upon the hallowed platform. I allow myself a moment to breathe and take it all in. Then I set to work.

I kneel down, and I pray to the fallen. I invoke the covenant struck between the living and the dead. I demand they rise and seek out my enemy. My voice rises into the sky and rends asunder, the still, night air.

My words echo all around me, racing away before coming back, with all the intensity with which they were uttered. Then, all is quiet.

I wait. The words had been spoken, there's nothing else to do. I wait even longer. Nothing happens.

I repeat the words, this time throwing as much power as I possibly can into each and every syllable. Nothing.

I search my mind. What's wrong? What had I done wrong? Then that same feeling of uncertainty returns. It chills me and my head fills with laughter. I'm puzzled, I don't know what's \going on. Then it all comes back to me.

I remember being a little boy, and listening to my father tell the legend. I remember being overcome with the tale. I desired to be the one to call forth the spirits, to feel their power. Then I grew up.

My father tried desperately to reaffirm the legend, but I didn't care. He tried to teach me the words I would need to know. I laughed at him. I didn't have time for legends, those were for children. Whereas I, was nearly a man. My father pleaded with me, I only laughed louder.

Laughter, that's all I can hear now, my own, long winded, laughter. I try to push my way past it, I cannot. I reach out for my father, as though he were here, with me, now. But I can't get past the stupid fool I had been.

I tell myself to shut up, it doesn't stop. I slam my fists into the stone beneath my knees, each time screaming that I should stop laughing, it doesn't help. All I can hear is the laughter, as the damn fool I'd been, walked out the door, out into the slaughter that was coming.

At last the laughter stops, replaced with the quiet murmuring of the night. My hands are bleeding, the bone of my knuckles exposed, but like the cold water, I can't feel it. Though this time, it isn't anticipation that leaves me so numb, just the realization of how idiotic I'd been.

Before me lays a door of sorts, which will allow me to enact my revenge, but it's locked. My father had tried to give me the key, but I threw it back in his face.

Hope, had been the force driving me forward, but now it's gone. I'd hoped to atone for what I'd done, or failed to do. I hoped to make reparation for my offence, but I cannot. And why? Because I had been a self centered child thumbing his nose at his betters.

How am I to live with that? How am I to make peace with myself? The simple answer is, I can't. I will have to live with my offense. Salvation is not a gift given lightly, and I had done nothing to deserve it.