Ashrael Skyfire
Bio
Hi there. After years of dormancy, the right side of my brain is on fire. I'm in the middle of a personal renaissance, and I want you to see it.
https://www.facebook.com/blackphoenix001
Stories (3)
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Caketrap
There it was: the last piece of Mom’s famous triple chocolate cake beautifully mounted and erect on a crystal plate and protected from unwanted intruders under a glass dome as it basked in the afternoon light. Surrounding it was a vast area of mahogany tabletop with random plates and glass goblets in between the edge of the table and the savory, sweet chocolate prize, all of which stood high above the beige carpet which spanned dozens of feet between it and a small boy who had been eyeing it like a sniper from across the living room, a courageous and mischievous contender vying for that ultimate prize. Unseen, he peeked around the corner from the secluded hallway, confident that no one would sneak up behind him knowing that both his younger brother and his mother were sleeping in their rooms. The boy, himself, was only five, but he already had a mind built for scheming and plotting. This challenge would be no different, and damn the consequences. He may have been told that he couldn’t have it before, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to have it. Its image kept resurfacing in his mind’s eye over and over to the point where it drove him mad with hunger. He had already made up his mind that as long as he could taste the last morsel of that dark, delicious cake bathed in that heavenly chocolate frosting that he would accept any punishment that he would be in for. There was only one hang up: Father.
By Ashrael Skyfire5 years ago in Fiction
Last Vestige
An overcast of dark clouds stretched over an open road with nothing but barren wastelands filled only with wreckage and ruin on either side of it as the diffused light of the sun gradually began to rise over the horizon. The air was already warming up as it gusted over the dusty badland, and as the light grew brighter through the haze and the overcast, a cloaked figure could be seen walking from the horizon, his parka worn and tattered as it flapped and flickered in the wind. He had been walking for what seemed like an eternity with a distant promise being the only thing keeping him going. With the shrouded light of the sunrise bringing about another despondent dawn, this lone wanderer pulled back his hood, revealing a worn, unshaven face with terracotta skin and eyes half-dead topped with a scalp filled with long, thick, dusty, grey dreadlocks that covered his ears and the back of his neck. He stopped in the middle of the road, only having been able to get a few hours of sleep at best due to the constant threat of attacks from other scavengers and wanderers of this world. He began to take in the bleak but ever-growing light as he took a deep breath. He reached into his pocket with a weathered, fingerless glove wrapped around his hand and pulled out a chain with a small, heart-shaped locket on it. His hands jittered slightly as he clicked the tiny latch out and opened it to reveal the vibrant image of a lovely woman in white surrounded by chrysanthemums. She had a meek smile on her face, a pleasant but quiet demeanor, and a warmth that managed to brighten even the bleakest of days, even if only a little. His tired eyes gazed upon her image just as he did every morning, like a silent prayer, a routine that kept his mind rooted and firm to his task. He took in another deep breath, emboldening himself before closing the locket once more and lovingly pushing it deep into his pocket where it was safe and sound, where She was safe and sound. “Just keep going,” he whispered to himself as he looked toward the western horizon. With that, he took yet another first step down a long and lonely road. Another leg of the trek was about to begin.
By Ashrael Skyfire5 years ago in Fiction
