Rain [Short Stories]

Campfire Stories

TheScaryFangirl This is for you. I never finished it and I thought now would be a good time.
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         The fire crackled and cast shadows over the two beings faces. It lit up their sorrow filled eyes and the flickers of light shimmered on their cheekbones like tears.

         Drihædell was no heaven, not this part of it with its lost souls and puzzle pieced entities. They'd seen the worst of it, they had swung their swords at howling beasts and faced off against pure nightmares. What was yet to come? Empty Greyscales who'd blow them apart with mallets and eat them with knife-like teeth. These thoughts sat on both minds as they sat in silence.

         Their party was but two people: A twink-y Dusk shadow and a Crystal Wraith with a rather violent stutter. The two were an unlikely pair but here they were in the swirled masses above them that resembled clouds and huge star-freckled sky that seemed magnified above them.

         The darkness crept in at the sides, shrouding them in a thick, inky pitch that none could see through. It grabbed at their backs and shoulders like hands, and pulled on their clothes, wanted them to wander into the dark and succumb to the horrors inside.

         Havoc looked up at his friend, studying the way the glasses of the Wraith shimmered with mirror images of the fire. He wondered if Viltu noticed him looking. He didn't seem to. His gaze was too focused on the lapping flames to pay attention.

        "Hey, Vil." the Dusk started, his voice soft compared to the harsh snaps of the fire. The Wraith's head snapped up, sparks floating under and around his head as he did so. He straightened, his gaze curious as he looked tiredly at his friend. 'Soft' was not a tone easily acquainted with the normally harsh king.

         "I think you should know something about me," He piped up again without missing a beat, the kings expression both grim and oddly excited about what he had to say. Viltu was skeptical. He was just hired recently, and, why would the King wish to confide in him? He was just a scribe, a cartographer, not his wife or someone more suited to such confidence. Though, he wouldn't deny the position if offered. The Dusks' mouth quivered with an emotion that Viltu could not place.

         "It's going to sound ridiculous, so I don't blame you if you don't believe me," Havoc sighed, and rubbed a hand through raven hair. This would have to be executed perfectly, if not, he was afraid Viltu would be mad or worse: not believe him. And his worst nightmare? Viltu offering him help.

         That would be the worst thing aside from the feeling that accompanies accepting help; that terribly small feeling you get all over and in your chest. It's the same feeling you get when your father yells at you, or when someone talks down to you. A degrading feeling that gets worse with every second.

         "Believe you?" A small smile lit up on the Wraith's face, a sight for sore eyes, as he scoffed, "Havoc, I'd believe you even if you told me the Goddesses had come back." He chuckled softly, getting a quiet smile out of the shadow, fortunately. But it didn't last long.

         "Vil...I've been struggling with something for a very long time..." his voice is still that soft tone that reverberates faintly in the dark, and Viltu's eyeridges furrow.
         "It's, it's not easy for me to admit, or, or even for me to recognize. And you seem mindful enough to understand even if I just keep needling at it." The Dusk folds in on himself. His hands grip his arms tight, pulling them closer to his body as he stares at the fire. This isn't some joke, Viltu realizes. His king is confessing something all Shadows have a terribly hard time with and he's sitting–paralyzed with realization–on a log with his hands awkwardly plastered to his knees.

      "I don't know what to do anymore, Viltu," his voice comes out hoarse, as if he'd taken a sheet of sandpaper to it. It takes the Wraith a second or two to realize the shiny black droplets hitting the sand below his king are tears.

      "I feel like the entire world is coming down on me in shards and I can't do anything," Havoc's hands wipe at his eyes,  the dark tears melting into the even darker wisps rising off his hands.

      "I just–" The Shadow King gasped, quieting as a pair of chunky, pink arms wrapped around him in a tight hug. The Wraith was surprisingly warm. It pulled through the makeup of his body and made the shadow on Havoc's body calm a bit.
      Words were not needed in that moment. They knew that everything was going to be alright. Even in this place of sorrow and writhing woe, there was a soft, faint light at the end of the tunnel named Viltu Morrow. Havoc was sure it'd get closer with time.