I unsheathe my sword, holding it tight in my hand. I’m surrounded at all sides by tall, broad leaf trees that block out most of the skies. I stare through a small space between two barks down toward a road. There is someone just standing there, looking around as if oblivious to their surroundings.
I leap forwards, through the gap between trees. Sword held close, held tight. I tumble through weed brush and bushes, landing squarely on the stone paved road next to the stranger. My sword arcs forward, holding my arm straight to point the tip of the blade to the stranger, whose eyes betrayed the surprise and horror he had felt.
“Avast, lad! You have entered the wrong part of these here woods!” I call bravely, keeping my arm and blade pointed and awaiting any sign of a possible attack. “These be Robin’s woods. All who pass must pay their toll to me!”
The man stammered, slightly, his right hand diving for the small blade at his side. I arc my sword downwards, expertly slicing the skin to a dull red scratch. The trick worked, as the man’s hand jumped back, and my blade swept his from it’s belt. “Naughty naughty, sir!”
“You’re just a kid!” Yelled the man. And he was right, for I was a kid near on his eleventh year of life. “I pay no toll to no brat!”
I had to sigh before my blade found home in the man’s neck. Robin wasn’t going to like my taking his life, but his coin-purse is heavy, and maybe nobody would have to know.
Okay then… Not exactly what I was going for but I do like the slight twist. A short writing practice based on a purely fictional/fantasy style.
Fire in the sky, flames in the meadows. All around him laid burnt flowers, a product of his own design and failure. His body was as frayed as the flora about. Gone is his heart, but yet only his mind remained for moments more, tortured by the burnt flowers fallen.
The skies are crying heavily. Rain pelts my form, shredding through my clothes like ice needles to my skin. My wings, white and pure, are burning from the efforts of both staying aloft and flapping in this heavy storm. Each breath drawn is a mixture of fire and ice, and my eyes are blurring from water seeping between my eyelids.
But I must continue onward. There, in the darkness and in the center of the storm, is my foe. My mortal enemy. Savius stays aloft in a hole in the clouds, the moon making the perfect backdrop for his sillouette. Heavy black robes with red edges, long black hair and wings, he resembles the perfect embodiment of pure evil.
I dive downward, using it to shield my eyes against this storm before rising inside the clear and rain-free circle that surrounds him. My short, golden blade held tightly as I rise upwards to strike him. He catches my blade in a defensive downward swipe, knocking me back downwards.
I bend and weave a tight curve before routing myself back upwards. I stay clear of both him and the edge of the clearing, leveling myself to his altitude. We both floated there, wings furling and beating a steady pattern to keep us both in the air as we stared each other down. This was a fight we have both been after for the longest time, several decades in the making. This was going to be bloody.
By Richard P.