Young Writers Society

Preface :A Prince’s Fury

The opening in the trees was dimly lit, the heavy boughs blotted out most of the sun’s yellow light. Trampling through bush and thorn came a soldier, dirty, grim and with leery eyes. His strength seemed nearly spent, and he cursed his superiors under his breath for being made to do such menial chores as gathering wood for the fire. As he entered the clearing through the dense trees, a dark feeling fell upon his heart, not the sort of feeling that his own thoughts led him to feel, nor did he have some sort of ill boding premonition. It seemed this place, this little clearing in the woods, had a heart and will. He felt the imminence of his doom, from whence and from whom or what it would come he could not fathom. Beads formed upon his brow, his teeth clenched. He felt the menacing gaze of judging eyes, unseen but unmistakable. The timbers fell from him as his arms became loose and his eyes restlessly darted to and fro groping for a glimpse…of what? That was the question that was tearing away at his mind. What was with him in the clearing? It was now painfully apparent he was not alone. What was staring at him so intently and with such disgust and malice that he needn’t see it’s eyes to know he was being watched? What demon lurked within the shadows just outside his reach? His will crumbled, and he was brought to his knees.

“WHO ARE YOU?! WHERE ARE YOU??! COME OUT!! PLEASE!!!”, he cried as one on the brink of madness. Then, to his relief and utmost horror, he perceived the slightest glint of eyes in the shadow of the trees. They seemed to be ever moving and yet perfectly still, fixed on him, seeing through him, seeing his cowardice, his fears, his sins. And they were undoubtedly preparing to pass judgment. A wail passed his lips as his hands covered the side of his face that the man who was walking through the woods just moments ago would not recognize as his own voice.

“Please…,” he pleaded, pathetically sobbing with his face in the dirt. All his thought was upon his treacherous past, his misdeeds and the grave consequences they had had. “I’m sorry…please….forgive..,” but his voice broke as he spoke. He looked up. The trees rustled. The eyes had stopped all trace of motion. Now, they only grew. All that was around him seemed to shrink and darken. Any hope of escape, if he even had the will to move, was now gone. A figure without any definite shape appeared, shrouded to his mind beyond any ability of his to determine if what stood before him was a man, a beast, or something else entirely. All sanity and reason that remained in the soldier gave way. He let out a shrill scream of terror, but he was fixed in his pathetic position, pinned under the unbearable weight of the eyes. He whimpered and spat, drooling and crying, completely at this thing’s mercy.

“Die…” a cold voice whispered that seemed to come not only from the figure, but all around him.

At the sound of the voice he shuddered and could look at the figure no more. Overcome with a strong desire to obey and to be free of the gaze, the soldier, without flinching, drew his blade and with a final scream, thrust it deep within himself. As he lay dying, the darkness around him seemed to subside but an even more potent one took over, this one would not draw back.

To any passing observer, the clearing did not change in appearance in the least, save for the interaction between a seemingly insane man and some mysterious figure, cloaked and indiscernible. What the soldier had seen was the world through a lens that distorted vision and mind. The looming figure had soon retreated to the dense trees soon after whatever bewitchment it had put the soldier under had been lifted. Naturally, a few of the man’s comrades, having heard the otherworldly wails and screams came running to his aid, only too late. What they saw there, and what devilry had passed there they could not discern. To their horror, it seemed that he had not been attacked by any beast or demon as they had thought, he had simply killed himself, with his own sword no less. It was taken to be a sign and a fell air hung upon the company as they dwelt beside the forest during the night.