Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Shadows Fall - A Tag Blog - Part 04


This is a Tag Blog, which hops from blog to blog depending on who is willing to carry the tale. You can catch PART ONE HERE, you can catch PART TWO HERE and you can catch PART THREE HERE. If you want to read PART FOUR then just continue reading. The instructions for taking PART FIVE follow the story below. Thank you for reading!

I just stared down at that bolt, lying on its side and for the life of me, couldn’t figure out how it had been pulled from the creature that it had felled the night before. My flight into the woods had done me no good, as the shadow left with the final setting of the sun, and whatever that thing was, had become invisible as the creature that had been sunken underneath that bolt. I was incensed to find the tomb opened, and the centuries old carcass of the unknown that had been encased within sullied, as they always are when I can’t get to the shadows before the sun frees them of their only distinguishing feature. Of course the bolt being pulled from the corpse, or perhaps not a corpse, will be another piece of this puzzle that has baffled me, and made my kind a laughing stock.

The secret has always been iron. It takes iron free of any added carbon, has been the only thing that keeps these creatures in their place. Pulling the iron from the bodies, of the wraiths makes them impossible to find, for they vanish if the iron is removed. There is no explanation for this other than lore which speaks of ghosts being vanquished through elemental metal. You become pretty superstitious when you fight things that you can’t see, regardless of how “enlightened” society seems to think it is today. Enough of the philosophy from me, I grasped the bolt, and placed it in my pack for whatever analysis I can gather from it, and walked over to the stone crypt where the body of someone had been disturbed. It’s very rare when the bodies these creatures come after have a name. That’s another thing I bring up, but nobody seems to care.

The body inside the sarcophagus was practically dust. The burial date on the crypt was back in 1972. This would place the death of the body almost two centuries ago, and why would this be so important to anything, much less a ghost? Well at least we assume they are ghosts, when you get on their bad side they can slice you open, and you have no way of telling where it came from or how it even did it. Forgive me for thinking a ghost doesn’t have the time to bandy around and make enemies like this, but one of my equals having brought up the old theory of a wraith made a lot more sense. Well more sense of the senseless anyway. I’m still curious why this one didn’t attack me like the others when they escaped the light.

I reached into the sarcophagus and plucked off one of the teeth from the skull. Maybe I can get an answer today that wasn’t available back in the days before the Great War. This body was probably already dust before the Great War came about, but you would think that they would have had some technology that would have given this person a name. I should have paid greater attention in school, and then I would at least have known if this was a man or a woman. I am assuming a man, by the clothes that are left behind. Looks a lot like one of the old suits from the twentieth century that you see in books, but who knows? That was a strange time after all. The only thing I know is that the shadows will not be back here again. They never return when they get what they wanted, so I will have to find a place to lick my wounds and wait for the next rumors of a disturbance.

“The Great War” I mumbled to myself as I set myself for the long walk back to the rubble that the people around here call a town. I mean when you get outside of the mega-cities the people seem to be friendlier, but they can smell the toil of the mega-cities all over me, and it makes them a little less friendly. I don’t blame them, because it was the geniuses that designed those mega-cities that brought the fires of doom down upon all of these poor folks, and the lies that it would kill everyone didn’t help all of the people it just didn’t seem to kill. Then the wraiths came, and wouldn’t you know it, the outlanders were the only people who believed me when I came out of the streets and after the shadows. Again I mumbled “The Great War,” and thought to myself how horrible it must have been.

As I stood on top of the hill and peered down at the little town they call Grada which sits outside a once large city called Belgrade before the Great War, I can still see a huge pile of rubble. These are some of the hardiest people I have ever met, still strong to the traditions that they have held since the first of the World Wars many centuries ago. You can say almost anything around them, because they rarely understand you. They have given no real effort to learn the common tongue that the rest of the world uses, but they make every effort to show you the way to disturbances. I managed to pick up a lot of their language, even if their alphabet is beyond my comprehension, because they never hold back when there is a disturbance and they need help.

The quarters that I have managed to stay in the last few times I had to come to this part of Deutschland were lit by a few candles; the owner must have set out for me. She’s a fine woman, with wonderful manners, and I know she wastes wax because she genuinely cares that I return. The embargo that the prevailing rulers of greater Deutschland place on the outlands, but especially these outlands who have never surrendered their lifestyle, and were just deemed unworthy of taking. It’s what I like most about them actually. “Dobra večer kako si?” came from a familiar voice as I walked up to the broken home.


“Moglo bi biti bolje,” I said back, letting her know I could be better. She simply nodded back at me, knowing full well, that that was my way of saying I failed. Such a serene widow she is, despite the hardships that living in this age must bring upon her. I truly wish I had better news, but now I just need to get some rest and start my way back to Glasgow before my skip runs out. As I glanced down at my wrist I was faced with the horrible fact that the skip timer read 28:17:41 which pretty much meant I better get some quick rest, or I’ll never make it to the Deutschland Isles in time. To be continued

Part FIVE is now LIVE as it was taken from here by the talented Rachel Rennie over at HER BLOG! Please follow this link to continue on with this tale!