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EndlesslyThe stars are falling from the sky and I do not know why; are they escaping the blackest void that has spread across the heavens or are they tired of shedding tears to the world below that is now full of misery? The sight of their departure is beautiful nonetheless and when I shift my gaze away from the heavens and look back at you, I can see how the starlight is reflected from your glazed eyes, your body motionless as you wait for the sign that makes our bodies move like puppets controlled by strings. It seems like tonight you do not remember our earliest memories; I can see it from the way you are looking at me. No matter how many times I experience it, it always feels like a stab to the heart. I do not know if it is better this way, I am being torn apart anyway. Either we both retain our memories and are forced to face each other in the battlefield or one of us does not remember the other and thus only sees an enemy that has to be defeated while the other one is suffering from an unbearable heartache no one should ever have to endure. It never gets easier. But this is how our lives are, this is how it has been for a thousand years. Everything around us is dead and still, we remain. The soil under our feet has been lifeless for centuries, completely dry and cracked and nothing can grow from it. There are a few dead trees standing, like dry corpses, their branches like the fingers of the deceased as they desperately reach for the uncaring sky, begging for something, a rain or a sunshine, that would rejuvenate their withered carcasses. But the heavens ignore their silent cries. The trees here are the last ones remaining of a beautiful landscape before the war destroyed and butchered it all. Now they are nothing more but mementos of the days when everything was well. Winds play with their branches, twisting them, clinging onto them like mischievous spirits, not letting their dried-up corpses rest in peace. Tonight, however, the winds are in a different kind of mood. They are blowing across the vast field of nothingness in an ominous way and I can hear them whispering. They want blood, they want misery. I do not know what kind of sadistic glee they will gain from what is about to transpire here, but they will get what they wished for. With the vile winds came legions of soldiers of the past, groups of people I have seen for the past thousand years, but whom I cannot remember anymore. In my eyes, their bodies are translucent and their facial features have been smudged like ink stains. I simply do not recognize who they are anymore. Perhaps that is how they perceive me, maybe I am like a ghost to them, too. We are all supposed to be dead and gone now, and yet, here we are. Legions of ghostly soldiers have gathered behind your back and without looking, I know that I have comrades behind my back as well. We are all standing here, silent and motionless, waiting for the sign. Soon it comes: a blast of an ancient horn rushes throughout the battlefield, reaching every corner. The battle will begin and troops of soldiers who have spent a thousand years fighting the same war over and over again are engaging in a conflict once more, and some of them have forgotten why they even are here and what they are fighting for. But I know that losing your memories completely will not give you salvation. A luxury like a free will is something we do not have. Countless times I have raised my weapon against you and it just keeps getting harder – except on those days when I do not remember you. I do not want to do this anymore! But no matter how much I have begged or demanded this to end, it never does. My body is moving on its own, swinging my weapon, causing pain to you and every time my blade cuts your flesh, it feels like I just got cut, too. I never wanted to be part of this war and neither did you. The ancient mad lords forced us into this; they called it a holy war that would purify the land. But which side was the wicked and which was the righteous? There was no answer to that to begin with, the lords just wanted an excuse to steal the lands from the other one. This never was a holy war; it was a cursed one. We are still here, in the middle of a senseless battle, and where are the lords now? Have they died or just abandoned us, forcing us to repeat the war endlessly, unable to break out of this cycle? Just like our memories, the battlefield itself is flickering. It is unstable, a lot like our minds, and is unable to stay in its current state. Like ripples in time, flashes of various shapes of the field are echoing from the past, not sure which form to take. We can see past battles through the flickering and we are dancing macabrely together with the ghosts of our former selves. We will keep fighting even when our bodies start to break down. When do we stop? I do not know. Maybe when all of it is too much for a mortal mind to take and we get consumed by madness. Maybe when the land tries to reset itself and as a byproduct, so do we. Or maybe when whoever is pulling the strings gets tired. It definitely is not death that grants us a moment of rest and soothes our restless and rotten souls. Ah, how I see death as a friend… However, I have come to the conclusion that the world will die before we do.trophyThe Candle BoyDespair and darkness, hand in hand, together they ruled the town with an iron fist. They had banished the sun, making the sky turn black. And because even the sun couldn't do it, there was no way that the moon could penetrate its way through the dark clouds. The air felt heavy and it was hard to breathe. It was like the sky itself was suffering. But it was not only the sky. Water had turned somewhat contaminated, making it taste pretty rusty. The town was also experiencing a famine, since the crops wouldn't grow without the sun. This also meant that there was not enough food for the animals and their numbers were getting low day by day. These events were giving plenty of anguish for the townsfolk, but there was also something else that was making their lives a living hell. They were sick. Tons of blisters would appear on their skin and they were painful. Some who hadn't yet become ill were living in fear and wouldn't come out of their houses. Those who were infected hoped that death would come soon and put an end to their suffering… but in vain. It seemed like that even death itself was avoiding that town. These poor people were living in a nightmare. Had they offended the gods since they were being punished like this? Or had this realm always been protected by these deities, but for some reason they had abandoned this town and so it had turned into this nest of darkness and despair? No one knew the answer. There was only fear – fear that this place had become a land of agony, permanently. And there was no way out of there, since there was nothing beyond the borders of the town. However… There was a tiny spark of hope in darkness. Some people had seen a little boy wandering around the town. He seemed pretty normal, and yet at the same time, not quite. He was pale and had dark hair and wore a weary expression on his face. In his hand he carried a candle – its flame was small and weak and by the look of its flickering, it seemed like the darkness would crush its life at any time, extinguishing it. But even though his essence seemed rather feeble, he also appeared as the most powerful being in the town. No one had any idea where this mysterious boy had come from or who he really was, but that didn't really matter. The most important thing was that he brought hope into the misery ridden hearts. Who knows, maybe he was an answer for the prayers. Some had seen it happen: the miraculous power of this boy. He would approach someone with that horrible sickness and just by touching them, he could give them their strength back. He hadn't cured the disease, but he had given them power to follow him. Because that's what he was doing. Everyone who he had gifted with strength would come along with him. Then he would lead the way out of that death trap. Those who had been seen walking with that boy at that point were never seen again. That wasn't considered as a bad thing, though. At least they could escape from this pit of hell. Of course, there were also those people who wanted to benefit from this boy, since they wanted so desperately to get out of town. But could you really blame them? It didn't matter, though. No matter how hard they tried to chase the boy, they would eventually lose a track of him – the darkness would ensure that. It could be said that if he doesn't invite you to be his company, you should save your time and leave him alone or else you will be lost in shadows. Those who are wise will wait for their turn. Because now that people have something to believe in, now that they have figured out that there is a method to escape, the everyday pain feels a little bit more tolerable. There shines a light of hope in the darkness. You just have to wait that it will come to you and then it may help you get free from the torment.