Archive for April, 2012


Posted: April 6, 2012 in THOTS

Sometimes in life, the path we think is of our own making is really a bad detour leading us into hell. Sometimes, it’s a dead end. And sometimes, it’s the right path. Sadly, you’re more likely to find the dead end or bad detour than you are the right road. Once in a rare while, a person will see their path with crystal clarity, and know they’re finally going in the right direction. When that happens, the world glows with the certainty of it.

It becomes so blindingly obvious that you feel like an idiot for not noticing it sooner. Every little thing is brilliantly significant and unique, and it almost makes a persons eyes hurt. So foreign, to find a path that fits my feet so easily, so perfectly. I have not felt this sure of my footing in almost a decade, if ever, and yet in my mind there is no question. I look up to the sky, and silently thank the universe for being so kind as to bash this information over my head as if I was stupid (which, let’s face it, in some ways I can be.)

I should be in terror, but I’m not. I should be cautious, and wary, but those emotions have left my grasp in this particular journey. They tell me in no uncertain terms that they’re not needed here. No longer do I wonder what the road looks like, nor where it will take me. I’ve never had more solid ground, or better scenery. This path just fits me so well, it’s as if I custom designed it. Then I remember that I did…In my dreams, but I couldn’t see what it looked like until my feet found the path by accident, or perhaps, design…

~Dedicated to “Twitch”~


She’s dressed for war, hair braided along the sides in proper Celtic fashion, to keep it from her murderous eyes. She’s fighting alone, and she hears the opposing war party approaching fast. She tightens the leather straps circling her upper arms, sticking one in her mouth to grit her teeth against. The first of the war horses crests the slight hill blotting out her horizon. She grits her teeth harder against the leather, jerking her custom made sword from its sheath. She was gonna do this the old fashioned way, because this time, her enemy made it personal.

Her antsy feet dig into the soft earth beneath her bare toes. An old copper whistle hung ornately from her neck, vibrating with her rapid pulse. The horses gained ground. She closed her eyes, and the world was quiet. All she could hear was the thundering of her heart. Her eyes snapped open, fixing on her enemy and his small war party. This would be over quickly, she could feel it in her guts. One way or another….

There was a small boulder before her and to her left, it seemed to glow, and as the first horse neared her, she leapt upon it, roaring her hysterical battle cry. She managed to take off two heads before they could slow their advance enough to change direction. That left three. But they’d made the fatal error. This was her turf, and in this harsh frozen land she occupied, Mother Nature set her own booby traps.

After stealing the cannon fodder’s horses, she kicked them into a lather for the tree-line. As long as they didn’t have arrows, she’d be fine. Seconds later a thwack sound let her know she wouldn’t be that lucky. She dared a look back to see black rain chasing her. Swearing under her breath, she kicked her horse harder. Sensing her urgency, the wiry mare led her into the trees. The arrows littered them second later. Time to play War Mistress. She grinned, the leather strap still in her mouth.

She caught the eye of her main target, enticing him to give chase at the last second up the fork to the left. She could see irritation in his face, he’d never understood why left was significant to her, as he couldn’t say she tied it to political leanings. She’d grinned ahead of him. Coy little bitch, she wouldn’t be grinning soon.

He never did get when he was wrong, and now it would be his undoing. As if on cue, the screams of men and horses sang up to hear from the valley floor. Never trust the brush, stupid, and you KNOW this is one of my tricks. She let out a goading laugh and led him farther and farther up the mountainside. Suddenly, he lost her, her trail had just…disappeared. He slowed his mount, eyeing the trees warily.

She looked down on him, looking up into the wrong stand of trees, but didn’t take long to relish the view, because he was on the target. Without a sound, she leapt from the treetop, bearing down him like a demented ape.

When she made contact, she brought with her a little friend, a little rock, with a very sharp edge. It made a delightfully sickening sound as it sunk into his skull. The sound almost made her loose ground, it sounded so sweet. Once he was out, she blew the copper whistle, and her War Elephant plodded lazily up to her, giving her a look that said, ‘This is ALL I get to do today??’

She shrugged, and pointed to the body beneath her feet. The elephant lifted the rag doll of a man, by his hair, and slung him carelessly into her crude war nest on its back. They didn’t have far to go, but she knew she couldn’t carry him. They walked for what seemed like eternity before reaching the biggest damned tree she knew of in the area, and once again, the elephant flung him down at the base of the tree without regard for his tender flesh. The elephant righted him, and she began to tie him to the tree. He wouldn’t wake for four hours…

When he awoke, his head was screaming at him and he couldn’t remember anything. He knew who he was, little else. When he forced his eyes open, groaning as they did in protest, he saw a crazed half-Viking, half-Pict Witch standing in front of him. The blue paint on her face did little to distract from the fury in her eyes. She bore down on him with a small, thin blade he recognized but couldn’t name. The long, partially braided hair didn’t help her look any less like she was going to kill him. She leaned in close, pressing the blade to his throat.

“Now, I’ve waited a long time for you to wake up, you stinking piece of elephant shit, so you’re going to listen to every word I say. Right??”

He nodded, having discovered by now he was tied to a tree. What else could he do?

“Good. First off, you can stop trying to take things away from me that aren’t yours to take, secondly, you can stop being a shadow over the sun in my existence, and thirdly, YOU ASKED FOR THIS. Explicitly. Repeatedly. So now, like always, I’ll give you what you want…”

She pulled the blade from his throat and took it to the back of his left leg, slicing the thick tendons that would support his lavish weight.

“There, now you can feel what I feel in my leg every day, so you will have no fucking question about my sincerity when I ACTUALLY mention that it hurts. Now…”

She balled up a fist and popped him solidly in the mouth.

“That… is for making ME fear YOU! You cowardly little fuck weasel, you don’t deserve to breathe my high mountain air. And this… This is for the blonde one.”

She head butted him square on the bridge of the nose, delighted to watch the blood gush. Just to really fuck with his melon, she leaned in and licked some off his chin, grining at him with blood stained teeth.

“And now you get to swallow blood, just like you made me do. Now, I know what you REALLY want. What you REALLY want it this, isn’t it?”

She grabbed his hand, and shoved it crudely beneath her legs.

“Well, I hate to disappoint you, sniveling child, but this is a treat for adults only. And you’ve been found wanting…”

Once more she rammed her head into his nose, this time harder. This time when he passed out, she didn’t know if he was still alive. And she found she didn’t care. Taking her blade, she leaned into him, cutting off his clothing. With her little dagger, she began writing into his flesh, then methodically smearing what looked like ash paste into the wounds. She was performing a crude, and highly fatal form of tattooing. In a day or two, the words would read clearly on his cold flesh. Traitor. Coward. Slave Master. Rapist. Liar. And just to piss off the super religious nuts that lived in her world, she carved the word “Sodomite” into his forehead.

She slept well that night, secure in her future, and did not even hear her friend join her in the midnight hours. It didn’t stop her from snuggling into his warm flesh in her sleep, but she also did not wake…