Doom’s Gatekeeper
I love my dreams.
People sometimes try to finding meaning in them. There are millions spent yearly by people trying to interpret their dreams, to see if they can foretell the future, or give insight into the past. Me? My dreams are just a jumbled collection of nightmare fuel.
Why is that a good thing, you ask? Well, I’m a writer. So when I have an insane dream, involving the death of hundreds, and the crazy, completely and utterly insane circumstances around it, I don’t seek therapy like a normal person: I get excited, because I have something new to write!
In this instance, it’s akin to my Newborn Star story. I wanted to go a few different directions with Star, and I’ll pick it up here in a few weeks, but for now I want to try and get this most recent dream into words.
The new idea is actually very much related to Newborn star, because it involves an immortal person. This time… benevolence is not in the cards. This time, it’s cold indifference. It’s been done, but I think I have enough twists on the tale to make it my own. I can’t imagine a scenario where this particular idea will be anything but original.
Without further teasing…
Doom’s Gatekeeper
Why must men come to me to die?
The thought was followed out of the small, stagnant pond by the force which had created it. A lumbering, slime covered mass which was vaguely humanoid emerged like a cresting whale, strands of unidentifiable plants and ooze coating it’s visage. A dark, brooding presence, it lurked over half the pond which was contained in it’s own raised crater. The crater itself was nestled into the heart of a thick, verdant, and extremely dangerous forest.
“You shall die this day.” boomed a voice which seemed to come from every direction at once, no mouth forming the words which the large man standing before the pool could see. “We shall see, old man.” came the calm, confident reply. “I have trained all of my days for this one moment, and I shall not fail.”
“As you wish” came the unbelieving reply. “Not even your bones shall mark your passage this day.” The man laughed, a laugh full of confidence and belief. “I have not come all this way just to die. I trained under the High King himself, and he has poured all his knowledge and wisdom into me. I shall not fail him now.”
“Enter then, and know your doom.” Laughing again, the man stripped at the foot of the pool. Slabs of muscle liberally coated his frame, showing the truth to his words. His mind was equally trained, full of all the mystic teachings shared by the High Kings which had come before. In every way, he was perfect. Still confident, he stepped into the pool, feet squelching into a thick, viscous mud at the bottom of the shallow pond.
For a moment, nothing happened. The man stood, staring at the unmoving mass of the pools keeper with the sureness borne of a lifetime of training. Then, pain. A brilliant, vividly green lightning bolt shot up the man’s leg, showing bright against his skin. It coated the whole of his leg, lancing upwards towards his heart. He stood, resolute, face sweating, yet his will unbroken. His desire to fulfill the hopes of his King kept him in place, feet square. He was not broken.
The second bolt arced up the leg of the nameless knight, who shone with a sickly green light, his legs and torso coated in green lighting. Both bolts ended at his heart, and with each heartbeat the lightning spread. It raced with his blood, coating his upper torso and neck in seconds. He screamed. A long, unending wordless cry of pain which no amount of training could’ve prepared him for.
The third bolt came, heedless of his agony. This time, it shot up his back. It showed no signs of stopping at his midriff, instead coating the whole of his back with it’s jagged patterning. It continued, his screams somehow magnifying in intensity as it did, until it finally crested the crown of his head. It arced over his scalp, the hair dissolving into puffs of vapor as it did, until it came to rest directly between his eyes. His heart pumped, treacherous with it’s need to beat.
As though they were lovers, at long last allowed to reunite, the lightning met at the chackral node in the knight’s forehead. The screaming stopped abruptly. The knight stood, wavering, and despite all of his training, he could not cling to consciousness. He passed out, and with a sickening squelching sound, the vivid green of his pain was coated in the muck of the pond.
As though his backward fall had been a signal, the muck writhed. It covered the knight, wave upon wave of slime pulsing over his body. Where the slime touched, flesh and sinew melted as though they were wax under a flames influence. Even bone was dissolved by the slime, until a few heartbeats later, there was nothing left.
“When will men learn? I hide no boon in my waters, only death barely restrained.” The keeper, his obligations complete, sunk once more into the water. The pool rippled, then went unnaturally still. No wind disturbed it’s sheen, and once more all that was visible was the muck which hid doom within.
To be continued…
Muckfully,
Justin
