The Taking

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I woke up last night from a dream where I was given three prompts and asked to write three short stories. (Yes, I actually dreamed about having to write stories from prompts.) I've already forgotten what the prompts were, as well as the first two stories that I came up with. For whatever it is worth, here is the third story.

* * *

The great shield had rested in the Sacred Glen for countless generations. There was no longer anyone who could remember when it had arrived there, except perhaps Those Who Do Not Speak. Vines grew around and over it, while leaves piled beneath it.

The shield was broad and heavy; not even the strongest of the Keepers could lift it, nor could the Bravest Of The Mighty make it budge. The handle on its back was thick as a tree trunk. The runes on its front were from a forgotten age.

One night--the sky full of blinking stars and the air heavy with mist--a stranger arrived. He was tall as the mighty trees, with a stout, almost square, head and body. Two horns emerged from the opposite sides of his head, curving down and framing his face. His hot breath steamed in the night air.

His head and body bore not a thread of cloth nor a single hair. Indeed, he carried nothing but a great hammer, traced with runes that matched the shield of the Sacred Glen.

The Watchers crept down from the trees, head first, like insects. Their gaunt limbs were bent close to their bodies, crouched in readiness, while their nimble fingers and toes gripped the bark. Their knotted braids swayed with their every move. Their glowing eyes blinked rapidly and their nostrils twitched rhythmically as they tracked the stranger.

The stranger lifted the shield high with one hand, and shook it, testing its strength. There was no sound, yet the air seemed to shiver. He tested his hammer against the shield's face, and the sound rang loud over the hills and valleys.

The Watchers chattered and squealed among themselves in hushed tones. Smoothly, deftly, they readied their longbows--half again as long as the Watchers were tall. They slowly pulled back their arrows and steadily aimed at the stranger and waited for their leader to call.

Instead, the stranger let out a cry terrible and alien. He lifted his hammer high and brought it down upon the earth swifter than the fastest river. The very rocks cried out, and a wave of sound pounded over the Sacred Glen and rolled through the trees beyond.

* * *

The Watchers rose to their knees, clutching their heads in agony, and looked around. The sky was blue and full of birdsong. The sun was bright and dappled on the green leaves.

The shield and the stranger were gone.
© 2012 - 2024 wtracy
Comments1
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SRSmith's avatar
Wow. When you make a return, you make a return. This is fantastic!