Candrith: A Short Story

No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in return only a jingling of the bells. My heart grew sick; it was the dampness of the catacombs that made it so. I hastened to make an end of my labour. I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat! (Poe 231)

The earliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depth of the recess. It was not the cry of a drunken man. There was then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibrations of the chain. The noise lasted for several minutes, during which, that I might hearken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labours and sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed the trowel, and finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh tier. The wall was now nearly upon a level with my breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within.

raised his hand and struck hard, at the enamelled scales, but scarcely cut through: the blade flashed and slashed yet the blow was far less powerful than the hard-pressed king

He lay crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, enmeshed in his garments, blood, and darkness. Only the purplish light created by each resounding boom of thunder cast light upon his hunched body. Thoughts rebounded back and forth in the skull of Brother Malcolm: “Agh, the agony I declare, the outjutting bone of my spine spars into the harsh rocky floor.”

Maylor Keene, Oregon is a very small town, it's new and uncharted, a government project if you will, riddled with skinny trees and despair. Its barren and boring, and like I said the town is small, no bigger than your average midsize mansion and maybe that's pushing it. In Maylor Keene there is only one building, a juvenile center for damaged youth which, is really more like a prison, there is no town hall, no schools - heck even the bathroom is in the next town over, but the distance is reachable. The towns purpose is to keep all of the rift raft in one area, and for good measure, I mean the kids that are in this private institution are special, gifted more really, and very dangerous. I should know, I'm locked in here, got my very own cell

“H-hey, kid… You have to get out of here” The old janitor sputtered, as he coughed blood all over his uniform. “It’s not safe anymore” The janitor spat a large globule of blood to the floor. “Take this knife and run, there’s nothing here for you now.” The janitor pulled free a long silver dagger from the inside of his uniform, and handed it over to Tristin.

He was amazed at the scorching wind that erupted from the forge and the resounding clang of metal on metal. He observed as Avery swung his hammer into a glowing sword which threw glowing sparks across the room. Nodding toward Ironias Avery finished the sword and thrust it into a pool of some liquid. Noticing the state of Ironias’ armor Avery dragged him over to a wall and grabbed a gleaming set of armor. Thrusting Ironias the chest plate he told him to switch suits. Ironias equipped the new suit of armor after it was adjusted to him. Each piece was made of hardened iron, which was hammered into place by Avery’s hammer. On the shoulder pieces there was a capital “A” connected to a smaller “A”. Blacksmiths had an autograph for their equipment he figured that this was his. Ironias unsheathed his sword, or more accurately what was left of it. The sword had been shattered halfway down the blade. Avery gave a look of surprise at the immense damage done to the sword. After all, he had made it. Ironias responded “You should see the other guy”. Nodding in acknowledgement Avery walked into a back room with the shattered sword. In a minute he returned with a broadsword. It was a plain steel blade and crosspiece with a hand grip made from wood covered in leather. It had a plain leather sheath. “I’ll fix your blade. Maybe you won’t break this one while I do!” Avery said with mock anger. He always enjoyed a challenge. After

The young girl before me stood greatly apart from the rest of the crowd in Mumbai’s largest bazaar. She was wearing nothing but a faded, loose green cloth that covered her skeletal body. Her bare skin was covered in soot and grime, ashy and pale as her face. Her hair was long and unkempt, and it looked like she hadn’t taken a shower in months. She held a bowl to my face and motioned it closer and closer. As she uttered the words “Didi, Didi” meaning “sister” in Hindi, I noticed she had some breathing difficulty. She was wheezing heavily, her brittle bones shaking with each sound she made. Her eyes welled up with tears. Worried and unsure of what to do, I called to my aunt, several steps ahead of me. She turned to the girl and placed a few rupees into her bowl and said “Come on, Siddhi. Let’s go.” I was speechless. I wanted to do more, I wanted to help her. But what could I have done? I was just as helpless.

The last door opened up into a massive chamber. It was made of wood, with huge columns supporting the roof and a deep green carpet with gold embroidery along the edges covering the floor. Dozens of candles flickered in the shadows behind the columns and a massive screen partitioned off the far side of the room.

While I gazed, this fissure rapidly widened– there came a fierce breath of the whirlwind– my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rushing asunder […] and the deep and dark tarn at my feet closed suddenly and silently over the fragments of the HOUSE OF USHER.

Morning had come and Reimond Walden sat up in his quarters reviewing some military documents he had prepared couple days back. He put on his uniform and headed into the barracks room overcome by the sound of silence. He looked at all the lockers with names he hasn't seen in months and years. He pondered around before looking at his own locker which had a full set of armor, a blue steel long sword, a bow, arrows, and a shield. He moved over to his locker rubbing his chin, thinking. He opened the locker taking the set of armor and strapping it on. He takes his blue steel long sword putting it in his scabbard that's on his back. He leaves the shield and bow in his locker, closing the locker and leaving it unlocked. He'd make his way out of Castle

Poe was napping and faintly came a tapping. He decided to open the door wide but to see darkness and nothing more.

Removing his hat, bowing, left a hard blow to Abram’s gut, observing the disfigurement left by attempted murder! Unable to console the young man preceding the open elevator doors, stepping out facing John replied, ‘I’m sorry.’

In the beginning, darkness trickled in between the sharp edges of the open cavern. “This is all yours Pluto. Do with it as you choose, but know every decision you make on Earth is multiplied by great forces down here.” Pluto looked around slowly as the mans ' voice dully echoed through-out the space. On the outside it would seem that he was overwhelmed by the jagged layout with miles of uncharted territory, but contrary to his outward expression of shock and nerves Pluto was mentally cultivating and creating an empire so enormous and so dark that not even the Gods could reign down upon his rightful power. As time went by, Pluto had servants indebted to him that began to build a castle scraping the top of the 40 story high ceiling of the cavern. Charcoal colored towers stood high above the souls help captive within the cavernous acres beyond the walls. Many of these souls complained of the cold and it seemed that the larger Pluto 's fortune became from those supporting him, then the icier the underground became.

Jocelyn throws her dagger. It strikes his chest plate. The force sends him crashing to the ground. Her weapon returns to her.