Post by TOKYONAS on Feb 1, 2013 22:57:46 GMT -6
BIRTH OF THE WISP-KIN
The mud. It was all that he could feel, all that he could see. Cold and black it clung to his tiny form and engulfed him. He felt so alone in this mire, the darkness around him endless. Small fingers tried to reach out for anything but all they grasped was mud. He tried to cry out but his mouth filled with the thick ooze and he choked. His body tried to convulse but he could barely move, sinking further and further into the mud. It was suffocating him, devouring him.
But a soft white light appeared in front of him, radiating gentle warmth. He squinted his eyes, trying to focus in on this beacon in the darkness. It was an orb, bobbing above the mud. He tried to reach for it but it was beyond his grasp, restricted by the sludge around him. It seemed to be calling to him, whispers brushing against his ears. He couldn’t make out the words but they were sweet and tender, calming him. They were like the words from a mother and suddenly he felt a yearning for the warmth of arms around him. He couldn’t remember ever experiencing such warmth yet it was so vivid in his mind. The more the orb whispered to him the more he wanted to be held and rocked.
He gave another cry, spitting out mud as he did. He wanted his mother; he wanted her to protect him from this cold mire and hold him to her bosom. He tried to recall her face but he couldn’t imagine one. Had he ever had a mother? Tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember her- her face, her voice, anything. As he could recall nothing but mud he gave a sob.
The orb glowed brighter now, the whispers ringing in his ears. Reopening his eyes his sight was bathed in the gentle white illuminations. It chased away the darkness and filled the empty void with its tranquility. His sobs slowly subsided and once more he tried to reach for it, finding the sludge now gave way to his movements. Tiny fingers stretched and pallid skin shimmered in the light. With a cry of desperation he seized hold of the orb, clutching it in his small fist.
As he held tightly to the object its warmth began to spread through his whole body and he felt his heart begin to beat. The steady ‘tha-thump’ mingled with the sweet words in his ears and he found the ambient noises of the swamp were audible to him now. He could see the outlines of trees above him, branches snaking out in all directions to blot out the sky. The stench of the mire filled his nostrils and caused him to wrinkle the bridge of his nose. His gaze shifted back to his fist. Slowly he uncurled fingers to find the orb was no longer there, a shimmering ring sunken into the flesh of his palm; yet still there were the whispers, though now fainter than before.
The muck began to pull away from him, exposing his fragile form. He was no larger than a toddler, shivering and vulnerable. There was a suctioning sound beneath him as he pulled away from the mud beneath him and sat up, wiping at his face with his hands. The noises of the swamp were clearer now, filled with the growls and hisses of animals. And suddenly he felt scared and alone, unsure what to do. A whimper left quivering lips and he stared at the ring in his palm. The voice was so soft now he could barely hear it in his head. The warmth had dissipated. He whimpered again and clutched his hand to his chest. He wanted his mother. He wanted a mother. Tears began to sting the corners of his eyes and he felt a sob stuck in his throat. Pushing up onto wobbly legs he tried to blink away the tears but they only fell furiously down his cheeks now.
“M-mama,” he called out in a weak, cracked voice. “Mama!” He gave a cry as he was only met with the sounds of the swamp. He stumbled a step or two through the sludge, losing balance as he snagged a foot on a tree root and tumbled down into the mud. Sludge covered his face and once more filled his mouth, body sucked down slightly into the soft earth. “M-mama please,” he wailed as mud dripped from his mouth. He clawed his way through the thick substance, trying to find more stable ground. Fear and sorrow hastened his heart, thundering now in his chest. He crawled toward a bank covered in moss and dead leaves, weeping and he did.
With a ‘thud’ he collapsed on the bank, breathing heavily. “Mama…” His voice was faint, weak. “Please, I- I don’t want to be alone.”
It felt like an eternity that he lay there, crying to the swamp. No one ever came, no one ever replied. The mud on his skin was now drying, caked on. He was clutching his marked hand to himself again, though the voice had grown silent by now. A long, black nail traced over the ring again and again before he clenched his fist. He didn’t want to be alone he couldn’t stand it. This world was so dark and so frightening. “Please,” he screamed out, voice echoing through the trees. “Anybody!”
The swamp became hushed, deadly silent. Giving a quiver he sat up and looked around. Everything seemed to now stand still and goosebumps spread across his skin. He felt something watching him and he looked over his shoulder. In the tree line hovered another orb, small and white just as the first had been. His breath caught as he watched it, slowly dipping in and out of the trees. It seemed to be moving away from him, deeper into the swamp. He gave a nervous cry and pushed to his feet, rushing after it. He didn’t want to be alone; he didn’t want it to leave him.
But a soft white light appeared in front of him, radiating gentle warmth. He squinted his eyes, trying to focus in on this beacon in the darkness. It was an orb, bobbing above the mud. He tried to reach for it but it was beyond his grasp, restricted by the sludge around him. It seemed to be calling to him, whispers brushing against his ears. He couldn’t make out the words but they were sweet and tender, calming him. They were like the words from a mother and suddenly he felt a yearning for the warmth of arms around him. He couldn’t remember ever experiencing such warmth yet it was so vivid in his mind. The more the orb whispered to him the more he wanted to be held and rocked.
He gave another cry, spitting out mud as he did. He wanted his mother; he wanted her to protect him from this cold mire and hold him to her bosom. He tried to recall her face but he couldn’t imagine one. Had he ever had a mother? Tightly he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember her- her face, her voice, anything. As he could recall nothing but mud he gave a sob.
The orb glowed brighter now, the whispers ringing in his ears. Reopening his eyes his sight was bathed in the gentle white illuminations. It chased away the darkness and filled the empty void with its tranquility. His sobs slowly subsided and once more he tried to reach for it, finding the sludge now gave way to his movements. Tiny fingers stretched and pallid skin shimmered in the light. With a cry of desperation he seized hold of the orb, clutching it in his small fist.
As he held tightly to the object its warmth began to spread through his whole body and he felt his heart begin to beat. The steady ‘tha-thump’ mingled with the sweet words in his ears and he found the ambient noises of the swamp were audible to him now. He could see the outlines of trees above him, branches snaking out in all directions to blot out the sky. The stench of the mire filled his nostrils and caused him to wrinkle the bridge of his nose. His gaze shifted back to his fist. Slowly he uncurled fingers to find the orb was no longer there, a shimmering ring sunken into the flesh of his palm; yet still there were the whispers, though now fainter than before.
The muck began to pull away from him, exposing his fragile form. He was no larger than a toddler, shivering and vulnerable. There was a suctioning sound beneath him as he pulled away from the mud beneath him and sat up, wiping at his face with his hands. The noises of the swamp were clearer now, filled with the growls and hisses of animals. And suddenly he felt scared and alone, unsure what to do. A whimper left quivering lips and he stared at the ring in his palm. The voice was so soft now he could barely hear it in his head. The warmth had dissipated. He whimpered again and clutched his hand to his chest. He wanted his mother. He wanted a mother. Tears began to sting the corners of his eyes and he felt a sob stuck in his throat. Pushing up onto wobbly legs he tried to blink away the tears but they only fell furiously down his cheeks now.
“M-mama,” he called out in a weak, cracked voice. “Mama!” He gave a cry as he was only met with the sounds of the swamp. He stumbled a step or two through the sludge, losing balance as he snagged a foot on a tree root and tumbled down into the mud. Sludge covered his face and once more filled his mouth, body sucked down slightly into the soft earth. “M-mama please,” he wailed as mud dripped from his mouth. He clawed his way through the thick substance, trying to find more stable ground. Fear and sorrow hastened his heart, thundering now in his chest. He crawled toward a bank covered in moss and dead leaves, weeping and he did.
With a ‘thud’ he collapsed on the bank, breathing heavily. “Mama…” His voice was faint, weak. “Please, I- I don’t want to be alone.”
It felt like an eternity that he lay there, crying to the swamp. No one ever came, no one ever replied. The mud on his skin was now drying, caked on. He was clutching his marked hand to himself again, though the voice had grown silent by now. A long, black nail traced over the ring again and again before he clenched his fist. He didn’t want to be alone he couldn’t stand it. This world was so dark and so frightening. “Please,” he screamed out, voice echoing through the trees. “Anybody!”
The swamp became hushed, deadly silent. Giving a quiver he sat up and looked around. Everything seemed to now stand still and goosebumps spread across his skin. He felt something watching him and he looked over his shoulder. In the tree line hovered another orb, small and white just as the first had been. His breath caught as he watched it, slowly dipping in and out of the trees. It seemed to be moving away from him, deeper into the swamp. He gave a nervous cry and pushed to his feet, rushing after it. He didn’t want to be alone; he didn’t want it to leave him.