Writing a scribble

"The very essence of existence is frailty."

The old man sat calmly, leaning forward on his staff. His grey eyes were clear and his worn face showed no sign of being perturbed by the armed figures before him.

"Tell your master that his aim is impossible. Nothing can exist forever, and no man can live an hour more than is due him."

Standing ahead of the rest of the soldiers, a much younger man glared back. "I didn't ask for philosophy, old man. I was sent here for the elixir, and I will not return empty-handed!"

A heavy sigh was the only response.

Ripping a knife from its sheathe, the leader pressed it against the ancient throat, not quite breaking the skin.
"My patience grows thin, where is the elixir?"

"Son, the Elixir of Eternity is right there," he lifted a hand off his staff to gesture indifferently toward a table on the far side of the room. An earthenware jar rested upon it, sealed with wax.
"Take it if you wish, I've no use for it, but remember what I told you... existence is frailty, no passage of time will change that.

Depression Sucks

Yesterday, I did things. I made phone calls, washed dishes, cleaned the floors, and took care of things in general.

Apparently I was burning the candle at both ends to do so.

Last night I couldn't sleep, and woke feeling like I'd been run over by a truck. Nothing has improved through the day. I feel like hell, everything seems like its far too much work, and that means pretty much all the real work that needs to be done is being pushed onto my wife.

Its not fair to her, but at the same time, I don't have anything else I can do. My brain is broken, and I don't have anything I can do about that.

Depression sucks...

Ways and Means

This year, I participated in Reddit Secret Santa. In the Questionnaire, it asked what I would do to improve the world. My answer, was to write more fiction that is hopeful instead of dark and cynical.

My Santa sent me two books with the message "The world needs more hopeful fiction"
Writer's Workshop of Science Fiction and Fantasy (edited by Michael Knost)
Now Write! (Laurie Lamson)

This has given me both a bit of a painful poke, as I've not been putting much of any effort into writing, even when I do have an opportunity; but even more it has given me a bit of hope that maybe I can do something with this. I need to write more, I know this. And I know that its hard and I need to forgive myself for not being brilliant at writing immediately.

Right now, where I am, I need to try. That's all I can do is try, but its enough for now.

Awaited Return

The house was dark and cold. Of course it was; no one had entered the place in over a year, and it had been still longer since anyone had actually lived there.
She sighed and dropped a small pack to the floor. All of her belongings fit in such a small space, and she wasn't sure whether that was impressive or depressing. Wood was stacked near the fireplace, very dry, easily kindled. Building the fire took her mind off other things for a few minutes. Paper from her pockets for tinder, some large shavings torn free with her knife, and the fire was crackling. Flickering light cast about the place. Some of the shadows were banished, but that only served to reveal the dust and cobwebs that filled every corner.

Tomorrow, yes tomorrow she would clean up and set the old house to rights. Tonight had been filled with enough. She was tired, both physically by the long journey, and in spirit from the sight of the place.

Too many memories were bound here, and too much old pain.

Her sleep would not be easy tonight.

Under Ancient Stone: Part III

Stealth was abandoned in favor of haste now. Cairis faced forward only long enough to see Alise raise her fist and swing it sideways into the wall of the narrow passage. Tor pressed himself flat against the wall and gestured urgently for the rest of them to pass him even as he rummaged through his bag for things to trap and slow the pursuing horde.
"No Tor, not here, just RUN!" Tala shrieked, her normally high pitched voice went down an octave or two on the last word as a pulse of magic burst from her. Lightness filled their limbs, and they sped back up the corridor. "Tala they'll be following close!"
"No they won't, not from there," Alise responded calmly, "the passage is going to collapse in a few seconds."
Cairis stared at the Sylvari over his shoulder, "by the Six! why are we not running faster then?"
"Because you bookah are too busy talking thats why!" Tala shouted as she slipped past him and shot around the corner. Cairis didn't feel a rebuttal to that statement would have been appropriate, so he just ran harder.

Back to the Deep

In the space between heartbeats, Hethir's view changed from the monster's toothy maw to gleaming armor. Struggling to haul himself upright, he saw Trace standing in front of him, shield held up as though he would fend off the massive monster with it. Strangely, it seemed to be working. Golden sparks fizzled and shot away from the shield, and Hethir realized that the knight was using the shield as a focus; blocking with magic and not mere steel. The teeth of the beast continued to grind and gnash on the barrier to no avail. Though as Hethir watched, he could see Trace shaking with exertion. The effort of holding the beast back was clearly taking its toll. "Trace, do you think you could kill that thing if I got you close enough?" Hethir regained his feet shakily, but his gaze was steady again.
"Maybe? It isn't of this world, Lumis will want it destroyed."
"Good enough, get ready."

Under Ancient Stone Part II

Slowly, so incrementally that they had had walked for almost another hundred feet before they noticed, the rough cave floor and walls gave way to ancient hewn stone and solidly placed blocks. After the initial shock had worn off, close examination of the walls began to reveal carvings. First it was just seemingly random chisel marks, but those soon gave way to runes, words, and sentences. Most of the runes were as indecipherable as those on the plinth from earlier; though Cairis was able to pick out a few here and there that bore enough similarity to hazard a guess at their meaning. The one bright spot was that neither Cairis, Alise, nor Tala's devices could detect any hints of magic in the Orrian writings. That however, changed when they found the second plinth.