Earthbreaker

The illumination in the room flickered as the woman locked the iron chains that were fastened around his ankles and wrists. The man’s head hung low as sweat trickled down the side of his face. The woman’s hips swung from side to side as she walked towards a wooden table in the corner of the room. Quietly, the prisoner said, “You really should remove these chains. They’re knocking me out of kilter.” He chuckled painfully, but she examined the tools in front of her. A long row of tranquilizers and defoliants laid on the table waiting to be used on the man who could manipulate objects with his mind. Earthbreaker he was called. 

She selected the largest syringe, a bubbly, orange fluid. When the woman turned back around, a blinding light filled the room. She dropped the tranquilizer and groped for her walkie-talkie, but passed out before any contact could be made. 

He stood over her, staring at her with a keen smile. The prisoner was no longer in chains; instead, the woman was. He held the walkie-talkie in his worn hands and said into it, “The prisoner is down. Time is of the essence.” A deep voice of approval replied. "Good" said the voice.

He raised his hand at the wall, and the once solid iron walls became translucent and then melted. Light filled the room. He laid the walkie-talkie on her lap and whispered to her,"Good night, my love." Slowly, he turned and walked through the puddle of iron and into the sunlight. 

The Memory of A Beast

      The echoes filled the cave in fear as each foot was lifted up and placed back down again. Her boots were dark, and blended in with the same blackness that filled deep space. She moved forward, slowly with her eyes focused on the darkness before her. She had brown eyes, framed by thick lashes that caused wind storms every time she blinked. Her stare pierced her enemies with uncertainty. A mysterious weight was upon her brow. She made sure to blink only when necessary, sure to not miss anything in the corner of her eye. The thick locks that occupied her head were a soft brown, with sun-kissed accents only around her forehead. She carried a thick blade, heavy with responsibility and honor. The blade was not easily lifted by others, a sword of unbreakable stone, supported by a golden handle shaped by elves. It was not violence that she fought her battles with, but wits and intelligence.
     Her head was held high, but she saw the ground before her. Rough, rocky clumps of dirt covered the floor. She had entered on lush dark green grass and daisies, but found herself in the darkness of the cave. She heard a deep groan grow louder as she moved forward, with each step more certain than the last. It was the armor that made her strong. It was woven, not by any fabric of bright colors, but by the comfort of her memories. A memory of a man decided her every move. She fought for his approval, in hopes that she could carry out the head of this beast and hand it to him with a smile. This memory made her strong, but not naïve. His strength was hers, one in the same. He walked behind her always, and she could sense him always, telling her how to perfect her steps and turns. He told her to lift the blade, although she saw no beast before her. She lifted it, confident that every word he whispered was honest, a clear and obvious truth. The beast she could hear sped up and ran directly into the blade. She held tight to her weapon staring the beast in the eyes as it fell into the dirt.
     She withdrew the blade from the beast’s chest, and decapitated it. Her wise hands clutched the beasts hair, as she exited the cave and went back into the light.