They wished me unwell, always. Greetings reciprocated with recurrent splashes. I never meant any harm. And yet, they forced me to stay clear. I wished for friendships with the streams, the rivers, the ponds, the lakes, the seas, and the oceans. They seemed to calm me in unimagined ways. The past is a history long gone. But I still see hope on the horizon. The intense clouds had gathered in communion with the endless ocean that spread across the vast surface of the planet. Amid lightning and thunder stood those who would believe in me, in my way of life. And together, we would all live in harmony.
As I made my way through the blazing lands, burning everything everywhere as the intense heat bullied and disintegrated everything it touched, my family shook hands with heat every time before anything caught fire. Nothing to stop it from dispelling its magic, from objects hugged upon by intense heat, and the unstoppable fires that burned down everything to its ashes, my siblings and cousins welcomed me with open arms, attempting to comfort me with their offer.
The claws penetrated through the evil black dragon’s thick scales, spilling out black ooze from its long neck, rupturing the spine. Shelamo held himself, watching his fierce archenemy fall through the sky, miles away to meet its final destiny.
No sooner had Shelamo triumphed, the full force of another gigantic beast reached from above, its wings held close in, to intercept with a head-on collision. The red and gold intermingled, diving together as one big lump of meat and scales. The world spun around, as the red beast’s claws pierced in Shelamo’s front left leg. However, the opportunity given was more than enough for the golden Shelamo to bite through the skull, killing it in an instant.
The beast was dead, but its claws had dug deep within the foot. Attempting to release the deadweight failed him several times. The ground now rushed closer with speed towards the mountain cliffs of Dornar. Shelamo knew it was his time to die. But he never gave up. Biting and chewing up the red beast’s leg, he tasted the foul blood sprinkling out all across his golden face. Thrice, he screamed in agony, pushing his limits to save his own dear life.
Only a few moments away from hitting the ground, the bloody red leg broke off, and Shelamo, in desperation, flapped his wings to soften his fall. Nonetheless, the speed of his fall didn’t help him enough. Even though the red beast fell underneath to soften the landing, Shelamo’s now wounded leg crashed into the beast’s skull, fracturing his bones inside. The sheer pain forced him to give up, landing his entire body into the red beast’s gigantic dead body. As the pain reached deep, Shelamo lost his consciousness, and losing his alert status, drifted into a deep sleep, not knowing if at all he would wake up ever again.
Now, that is something to ponder about, Reuben thought. How shall I wake him up, and in what way? Will he have someone’s company? Or should I get a dragon slayer in front of him? Oh my, If I do that, will Shelamo manage to survive the dragon slayer’s death strike? Oh Lord, help me clean up the mess I’ve created.
It burns. And yet, after a few days, those pieces mend together. Then again, the cycles reiterate, repeating as a poisoned arrow struck through the neck. I care no longer for my three brothers and two sisters; they employ themselves in the interests of our parents. The big, old family business tends to animal slaughtering, cornfield harvesting, and taming different wild beasts. Although that last one is of little interest to me, I’d appreciate watching them break dragons and mythical creatures. Should they ever decide to accept that challenge, I’d roam around the world to see them in their real habitat.
The unforgiving heat of summer forces us all to endure the most. The fields all lost to drought, almost all bred animals now dead, and there are no more wild beasts left for training. Each year, all except my mother and aunt, go away during these harsh months to live in the dangerous cities headed by powerful, influential individuals. Most belong to kings within their castles. Groups of individuals lead the rest, awaiting opportunities to ambush innocent lives. They hunt them in a chase, of mental death cause, exploiting them of their mind, strength, influence, and reputation.
I’ve crossed the boundaries of existence. There is no sign of it, more like extinct, it doesn’t exist. It’s no longer a perspective, and there is no view, neither light nor darkness. It only seems void of all matter. Unable to recall my past, something has cleansed me of whatever I seemed to have known. I don’t even know how I exist in this realm of meta-existence, I presume. Questions are all I have. Did I have a past? Will I have a future? Am I supposed to question the existential void? Is there anyone watching me? Or even my progress of what’s happening to me? Am I in some phase of transition, or did I die in my previous life? Have I been created afresh from nothingness? Am I in heaven or hell? I fight to speak up, but the syllables never commence.