Fragments – Random pieces of a Millenia old puzzle

Fragments – Random pieces of a Millenia old puzzle
This is a re-post from my brother’s journal.

Sometimes, when I feel betrayed by fate and time, all I have to do is remind myself of the suffering others of our kind endured, and bow my head, humbled…

“*sigh* I wish I could accurately, or at least poetically portray my first memory…

I can recall it at will, especially when the weather is hot and humid (Like it is now). – I recall a body of water, fresh water, with the air hot, humid and heavy. There are masses of reeds in the way. The insistent buzzing of flies and the feeling of annoyance over them. I see a man sitting on a mound(?) near the water, his skin is jet black in the sun, he is middle aged and exudes an air of reassured unimaginable power and control. I know that he is communing, summoning, and drawing the power for the ritual I am about to suffer, my mutilated body nearby pressed under heavy stones, my limbs hacked off and cauterised, while several nervous braves guard over me, worried that at any moment I will somehow eat them… I try to threaten them, but my tongue has been removed and my glare feels comical to myself. 

I know little of the ritual itself, only that I was then bound to the body of a broken warrior, he was then led to a young woman waiting nearby, several old women hovering around her. With thier meeting the seed is planted and the subjugated protector is concieved. The demon scoffs now, his chain has been broken, yet he still feels trapped, awaiting the clue for metamorphosis

I recall snarling at an errant underling as we prepare to launch an assault against… something. And recall that I was one of the few survivors. 

I recall betrayal, having the way back closed as I was away fighting the enemies of my father…

I recall a fellow, a female, a sinister beautiful winged vision in black marble and alabaster breathed to life with eyes like pits of glittering black fire telling me that I may well regret dismissing these hairless apes… I was a leader at the time, a cohort of soldiers, similar yet smaller than me looking to me for guidance, leadership, and a way home(?)

I recall jagged black mountains, torturous to climb and draining of needed energy for the fight at the top, my foe fighting me in caves and on mountaintops with fire, and magic. I fight them in turn with brute force, eaons of cunning and endless battle fever. I am not subtle, I am battle rage and bloodlust made flesh, howling and near insane…

She calms me, it hurts, I have to stop and think, develop strategy, consider myself redundant. I snort what can they possibly ever do to stop us…?

I celebrate a successful battle with my troops, she appears and admonishes me, she tells me it is not the time for us to make our nature known. I roar at her, I use unspeakable words, as she takes flight, I throw a tree at her, quietly hoping even then that she will avoid it…”

About Julie Deshtor

Julie Deshtor grew up in the Soviet Union during the turbulent 90's, and moved to the United States shortly after the Soviet Empire collapsed in 1991. A bilingual author, Julie writes both fiction and poetry, as well as translating poetry and lyrics. She brings her rich cultural and life experienced to her fiction, exploring the psychological struggles of her characters with compassion and insight, as they navigate the murky waters of the modern society. Julie currently resides in Utah, USA. Her interests include art, world literature, zoology, anthropology and urban subculture
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