Motley's Short Stories

Show Me Your Scars

The woods of the western state lay bare to the eerie silence of the ailing night. Vihe and Tihar, the twin moons, were just about to retire from the sky, slowly descending whilst dragging their ebony blanket with them. Creatures of the day began their cacophonic melody to welcome the rousing Heli. Warm hues gradually ascend the sky, draping its comforting rays throughout the algid grounds of the deciduous expanse.
Within the boroughs of Agoc, a dilapidated cabin nestles awkwardly. Heli's rays are yet to grace the feeble domicile, with the towering lumbers overshadowing its field, delaying the reach of its warm tendrils. Heavy creaks emanated from the old oaken floors, breaking the communal silence. A svelte figure cloaked in mohair poncho trails towards the small kitchen, each click of his crunch supporting most of his weight reverberated throughout the hut. Like the subtle wind, the Lheno chanted, "Vie fuego illumar."

A soft glow permeates around the vicinity, invoking the dark to retreat and the shadows to loom. The amiable features of the Azguli were brought to light. His bewitching heterochromatic almond-shaped eyes seemed solemn despite the warm embrace of the fire. Strands of ash grey tresses slip from the sloven plait that emblazed his alabaster skin, though sickly looking. His right leg, immobile and deformed by a tragic accident, always brought up unwanted memories when being looked at.

Theliel beckons the western winds into his abode as he opened the mullion windows. From afar, the great peaks of Pholi dusted with artic clouds of dust can be seen. Greeting the morning begins by appreciating the creation of Berkana. A chorus of chirping avians starts to play throughout the forest, singing a sonata to their lady. Lush evergreen bends with the soft morning breeze of the southern wind.

"Oh, such sweet music from Berkana's wings. It truly enlivens the dull morning don't you think?" he muttered to himself.

Alone.

Solitude makes you converse with the air. Yet it brings a tingling sense of peace and calmness. As if you are talking to your hidden psyche. Beyond the towers of lumber and canopy, clamorous crowds beckon him to reunite with them once again. But he cannot. He made an oath that shackled him to the cold copse grounds of Agoc. Forever. This is for the better. To not love once more.

The cold wind is yet to dissipate in the early hours of the morning as a man of stout stature keenly wrapped in yak wool coat, his face obscured by a woolen mask, passes by the towering lumbers of Agoc. By his right, a lean brunette with a livid countenance carries on toward the path to the cabin, incertitude radiates from his being. Linne, a frequent visitor of Theliel, unexpectedly encountered an unlikely fellow looking for the gray-haired Lheno. Today's tarry breaks his usual routine. Two reasons. An uninvited fellow tags along and the time of the day. Midday is his conventional visiting hours.

The towering man, Kastor Donelli, is a promising commandant candidate of the western stanchion. He was blessed by the threads of fate when he met Linne. The young Oléas was almost at ends meet when his search for an individual was bearing no fruit. Months turned to eonths, his vigor in pursuing a lost love dwindles, yet pain and regret gradually tightens around his heart.

Theliel, where are you? The bellow of his heart was an unending mantra of guilt and agony. No cure is viable until he saw that person.

Going on an errand for Mrs. Agatha at the bustling market of Arti village was a momentous day for Kastor. Linne Kaheo, a companion, especially a close friend of Theliel was present, shopping for fresh produce harvested directly from the orchards of Beron. Not letting any opportunity escape, he anxiously approached the Ivyaki.

"Linne my boy, how have you've been?" Uncle Anghus, a jovial middle-aged man who the Ivyaki frequently buys from inquired.

"Same all-day Uncle Anghus. As always your fruits and vegetables are succulent." Linne complimented. He usually buys a kilo and half of produce from the uncle, but today is an exception. He's visiting his friend tomorrow, so he'll need to buy an extra for Theliel as a gift. The Lheno loves ripe persimmons from the north. Its vibrant orange tone reminds him of autumn, his favorite time of the eonth.