July 06, 2005
Nightmare
What is it that the undead dream of? Do they relish in the slaughter of the living, striking fear into the hearts of grown men? Perhaps they do, but not this creature. Shamra was alone this night, the day's battles had been tiresome and his bones needed time to mend. He slept upon a dark bed, the great power of death healing his body. Shamra went to sleep hoping it would dream of bathing in the blood of his enemies...instead the same nightmare overtook him.
There was...light...it was bright in this place. He was walking, but the ground was not solid, it was...soft and forgiving. Ribbons of golden sunlight illuminated the blue sky, birds flew not overhead by at eye level, quite an odd place.
Shamra stirred in his sleep, the images of beauty repulsed him, he wanted the light to turn into shadow.
Suddenly, the scene shifted, he was in a city, children were playing in the streets, a wounded man was lying on a makeshift cot before him. He was in a temple...Shamra reached out to the man...his bones were covered in peach colored flesh, something...someone was healing the man's wounds. Why was his hand not around the man's neck, crushing the last drips of life from his living body? Who was stealing this soul from the great underlord, who would halt his feast?
Shamra awoke with a start, his bony fingers were clenched in a tight ball. Why was he having these nightmares, he was not supposed to dream of peace, where was the torment, the death. There was something though...some shred deep inside of him...a spark...that was comforted by these images...remembered them somehow. How could he remember this, he was death, he destroys the minds of countless people, how could he remember this?
'Who am I?"
Posted by Shamra at July 6, 2005 10:51 PM