Aesir Creative Writing

It was at the peak of the night’s darkness, fog covered the kingdom. The town was fast asleep, the King and his thanes were also out cold. There was an eerie sense in the air. It had almost been too long without any commotion. The kingdom, at the top of the Food chain, hadn’t been attacked for nearly two years now.

Everybody was gone. Evacuated, they called it. The Pearl of Asia, a city once renowned the world over for its vibrant music and art scenes, along with its French-style architecture –now devoid of living souls. The city centre was only a corpse of its former self: the central market was completely unrecognisable; the surrounding houses now just piles of brick and wood. They said that we did not need cities, that we were corrupted by Western values. They would create a new society, free from the old ways of money and greed. The past five years had been quite abominable, so everybody hoped that this new government would finally bring peace.

I wrap my scarf around my neck and reach down to lace up my boots. Careful not to drop my cross body bag as it swings down, I stand up straight and walk out the door. As I lock the front door behind me, I inhale a deep breath. This is my favorite time of year. The air is brisk, yet the sun is warm on my skin. I begin my walk to work since my car officially died yesterday. This is the third time this month, but I don’t really mind. I love walking when the weather is like this. The sounds of leaves crunching beneath my feet sounds like music.

The howls of swaying leaves cut through the grisly night. The only light ascended from the moon, though it was barley visible amidst the trembling towers of trees. Branches of wrinkled wooden limbs creaked and groaned as they swayed to the sound of the wind’s whispered secrets. Exposed, contorted roots sprung from the ground desperately trying to escape from the ravenous demons that dragged them down to a more hellish fate. Tortured screams of those doomed to a punishment of fire and brimstone erupted from within the deafening quakes of the woodlands, and the deep cackles of a hag could be heard faintly after.

In the dusk of a summer Saturday evening, a trickle of light streams through the overhead leaves. One particular horse poses beneath a canopy of towering Adirondack oaks, most of which are only rivaled by the antique racetrack in age. Only a few fans are all that remains of the crowd that adorned the grandstand the hour before, with dreams to witness history. The few that linger lean enthusiastically over the barn barricade that had once struggled to restrain the appreciative masses and masses, only for the opportunity to catch a glimpse of this particular thoroughbred in the distance. But this horse didn’t win today. Today’s victor grazed out of his stall rows down, seemingly unnoticed. The sky, once a brilliant blue, has turned darker with

Though she is weak, she struggles. I whisper soothing words to her as I carry her through the woods; if only she could understand that no harm will come to her by my hand. When she goes still, my heart twists in my chest. She has not left this world, I realize, but is staring at me with an intensity that makes the heat of fire seem dull. This is the first day that I have ever held a life in my arms, and it shakes me. Her soul is laid bare before my eyes, and I wish to shelter it from the snowfall. She does not see this, and though my words may be futile, they carry weight.

Before the Earth was a place that animals inhabited, there was a small green planet orbiting around the sun close to Earth called Equis. Grass covered most of the flat planet. The only water to be found was in small pools. Equis was inhabited mostly by horses. The sun horses. The sun birthed the first generation of these horses and were carried on asteroids to Equis. These horses were beautiful, large, and strong. Most were yellow or red like the sun, with white flames for manes and tails. The possessed strong hooves and heavy bodies that made the planet shake when they galloped across it. There was a tribe of people residing on Equis. The moon had birthed them. Some of their skin was pale like the moon in it’s illuminated phase, others had

I struggle each step, four weeks I have walked, and the cold drenching flood of exhaustion hangs at my heels. The crow urges me on and onwards I go. Sometimes I stumble, and sometimes I fall, and the crow calls again and I raise. I refuse to die like this, I will not fall to the weary. I will not die from the frigid cold. Only by blade will I accept death, and so, I continue. Over mountains I tread, my beard growing long bushy and white, shielding my wrinkled skin from the elements. Bounding over ice-frozen streams with walking stick in hand. Soon, the land loses it’s green, and becomes painted in only black ice and grey stone. The chill of the winter changes in feeling. Not only was my body cold, but this dark land chilled the very essence of my soul. The ice loses it’s reflection and instead shows the bones of the damned. Lost bodies entrapped to frost prisoners of their fate. Their skulls empty of emotion aside from the layers of preserved flesh in the snow. Yet, I continue on. I know well that I may be among these bones soon. Be it either the shadow giant, or one of its beasts. I cross over a frejold of black muck once had been snow. It clasps at my wolf-fur boots as though it desires a great hunger, and with each tearing step forward I grow

The fire hissed menacingly in the dark as I shivered uncontrollably, beads of sweat trickling gently down from my forehand. The knife felt frosty in my grip, it’s blade reflecting the moon in the dusky, night air, the soft glow gleaming in the darkness. As I glanced above, I saw four wooden huts lined with rows full of butchered meat, blood still leaking down, seeping into the wood panels. A campfire crackled somewhere in the distance behind the wooden shacks, beyond the view of the pit. The big, burly men resembled jagged mountain cliffs with their heavy pelts hanging loosely over their shoulders, whose cold black eyes resembled ten thousand winters. Eyes similar to vultures, devoid of any pity. I avoided their gaze, afraid of what they might do. The hum of the the villagers grow louder, dirt sodden and weary from their daily work, filling the gaps in the circle of the hulking men. Some whispering, some without any definable expression. I strained, catching

Growing up on the outskirts of Mena, Arkansas within the shadows of the Ouachita mountain range was an experience for the ages. And though the sleepy little town of Mena offered very little in the way of excitement, the mountains, on the other hand, provided ample opportunity for an adventurous young boy with a wild, unfettered imagination. I remember lying awake at night listening to the song of the whippoorwill as the summer breeze gently rustled my bedroom windows. it was without a doubt pure heaven! But there were times when the whippoorwill fell silent, and a strange and eerie howl penetrated the darkness. Hell, even to this day my hair stands on end just thinking about it. But you know, there are things in this world that’s better left unspoken. And though I didn’t know it at the time, I would soon find out just exactly why that is.

The woods howled in hollowed shrieks as the wind grew in strength and the rain seemingly grew colder by the moment. The strange weather destroyed any evidence that it was summer, as the cold wind blew through the thin line of clothing and brought out shivers to wrack our bodies. The winds caused limbs to clash together, and leaves to cascade all around the moving party. It was freezing, my wrists were sore and looking down at my bound hands I could see the evidence of the storms wintery chill. My nails were turning blue and shook at the slightest movement. The thin cotton clothing held no warmth or comfort against the cold conditions. The men were agitated, multiple grumbles of displeasure rose among the men. I ignored their meaningless banters and tried to focus on keeping warm. At times, I stuck my hands under my limbs, or up against the horse in the hopes to bring feeling back into my fingers. The hours of riding in the cold forced me to believe that even the close proximity of the captors was in the most peculiar way welcoming. Their bodies offered warmth and desperation caused me to forget the stupidity in my actions as I burrowed myself into the man that held me captive even further than before. The storms brutality did not cease, my limbs were sore as Rodgers forced the soldiers to make their horses maintain an exhausting pace.

It was the evening of that fateful day. The deep rasping calls of the ravens can be heard as they hovered above the creaking trees. A menacing voice penetrated through the hollowness of the forest. It was close enough to unnerve the young boy. The mist that wouldn't rise lifted itself as he glanced back quickly and hastily began to run out of fear. As he ran, he would stumble and look back in hesitation only to tear his gaze away, scampering onward again. A fiery light flared its path in front of him, calling him forwards. He ran to it, collapsing in front of unfamiliar figures.

How could he be so stupid? What could've possibly possessed him to lead his men through a forest known to be infested with brigands, and while escorting Ela? Immediately regretting his mistake, he resumed the bloody combat as he saw Ela gallop off into the distance. She should be safe behind the column of troops that met the ambushers from the underbrush. Cursing under his breath, he turned to parry a downward strike with the back edge of his blade, before returning a diagonal slash to his opponent's neck as he felt something ring against the sallet that he wore. He was glad he picked up the helmet before the fray happened, for if he hadn't he'd be brained by the morningstar his new foe wielded. His vision blurred and disoriented he staggered back under the force of the blow as the man swung the cruel spiked ball and chain in a deadly sweeping arc. Ulric ended up

“This is so cool!” Carl’s ecstatic declaration filled the room. “It’s called a katana?” She was standing with her arms extended, as she displayed her Katana for the two children to see.

Camira walked silently with the other girls along the corridor the queen was leading them down. Camira studied the walls. The other corridor had paintings, whereas this one had maps. Lots of maps.