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.

The raspy wind rises in swirls, encircling the entirety of my lean body. The parched, coarse sand scrapes across my angular face, burying and scraping itself into the warmth of fresh, open wounds. The sun scorches my skin raw, condemning the violence, the blood, and the screams that seem to echo all throughout the lifeless mountain side. Welcome to Afghanistan. Bitter laughter fills my head.

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

The newborn snow is stained crimson, and in the center of the small clearing is a wounded fawn. With each attempt the creature makes to stand, its trembling legs give out and it falls once again into the cold. I remain behind the treeline for a moment longer, for fear of frightening it. Then, I step out from behind a pine’s shadow into the pale light. The fawn’s head snaps to the side, its wide eyes locked on me. My every movement towards it is cautious, and when I reach the little being, the small girl, she attempts to flee. Before she can fall, I wrap her up in my arms.

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

It was mid november in the ozarks. A small mountain range located in the heart of the midwest. The trees are beautiful and the day is quite. One of the dead lies about 20 feet in front of me. I don't want to shoot him but he sees me. He starts to walk towards me. Although it doesn't look much like a walk. Its lifeless with no objective it justs walks, endlessly seeking nothing but what drives it to be alive. Human flesh, it's been 3 years now since the outbreak. Nobody knows how it started or where it came from. However it came hard and fast the first year was a nightmare, everyone i knew slowly died off. I've been on my own now for about 6 months. Using the wilderness and the rockiness of the ozarks to help keep me alive. The walker is slowly

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 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.

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

He thought he would surprise Aileana tonight and see if she was up for a road trip. We would take the Harley over to the small coastal village of Tongue, which is only an hour east of Durness. Kendrick planned for them to have dinner at the Ben Loyal Hotel. They have a wonderful restaurant called The Ben. Their website stated they had ‘magnificent views of the Kyle of Tongue, Ben Loyal, Ben Hope and the ruin of Castle Varrich’ all from the restaurant. Kendrick also wanted them to enjoy one of the rooms of the Ben Loyal Hotel; he thought it would be a pleasant change for them to sightsee a tad the next day before heading back to Durness.

“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.