‘Go into the corn maze, it’ll be fun’, she said. This was not fun. 

Number one, he wasn’t great at mazes and oftentimes ended up taking the same path repeatedly. He had never been taught the ‘hug a wall’ strategy and just sort of wandered aimlessly. Number two, his neighbor failed to tell him that there were going to be spooky things set up in it already. Sure, they were ‘small scares’ like creepy pumpkins, cobwebs with fake spiders, and ghosts on sticks meant for the children that would be running through it, but Rhys had never been a fan of Hallow’s End. Too many practical jokes inside the orphanage when he was little, and once the older boys had found out how much of a scaredy cat he was, it got even worse.

It was dusk now, he had been stuck in the maze for about two hours at this point. It was a large maze so it would likely take a while for most people to get through, but definitely not this long, and definitely not caught in it after sundown. The panic was slowly beginning to settle in, and he had considered just making a mad dash through the corn itself, but he didn’t want to ruin the maze. So he kept walking and hoping, as the light slowly faded.

Thankfully he had his comm device, which also included a flashlight that was promptly turned on even before the darkness completely settled in. He picked up his pace, muttering under his breath about how he was going to be stuck in this stupid maze until morning and that the wolves and coyotes were going to find him and eat him. Maybe if he just kept cursing and talking to himself he would be less frightened, but the anxiety was definitely taking root deep within his chest.

He rounded what seemed to be an unfamiliar corner, hoping that this would take him to the exit, when he suddenly came face to face with, “PUMPKIN MAN, NO!!!” He screamed bloody murder at the thing, threw his comm device at its face because that would obviously help, and then immediately fell back into the corn stalks behind him. It was, technically, exactly what he screamed, although he felt like an idiot when he realized it was just a scarecrow with a creepy carved pumpkin for a head. “Oh.”  He let out an uneasy laugh before getting to his feet and going to retrieve his thrown device, glad that no one had witnessed that.

Day 23, DWC 2021

CW: Mild gore

Fear was a curious thing.

Seemingly random, or very particular. Ainsley found it strange how beings accepted some things so readily and easily, but kept others at bay. Sometimes the line between what we should be scared of and what it was that actually scared us was surprisingly thin.

She remembered her first few months in the Argent Dawn. Freshly licensed and equipped for field work, she threw herself in the middle of restoration efforts and movements to quell the lingering Scourge threat in the Plaguelands.

She remembered Edderson Gravesong. He was kind, charismatic, reliable, a toughened warrior…a personality anyone could easily be gravitated towards. He was also a Forsaken, one of the very few and rare ones that ended up joining the Argents. The looks of fear and distrust he garnered felt unfair…he was a better person than many of the living paladins and priests she herself had met.

She remembered one field operation gone wrong. Hovering over Edderson’s body, injured and immobile, she realized she had no idea how to heal the bodies of the unliving. She stared down at the large gash on his torso as strange, coagulated blood and other fluids seeped out from it in a steady stream. He didn’t breath, but his chest was heaving unevenly and garbled gasps escaped his mouth. His body wouldn’t adhere to the Light, but there was something else she could try.

Her fingers hovered over his wound, and clearing her mind of all chaos she watched as wisps of shadow energy began to circle her fingers before descending onto his wound, dancing sporadically between the mottled skin. The laceration began to stitch itself back together, crudely and harshly. 

A gasp across from her momentarily brought her out of her concentration.

Kneeling across from her, Ainsley’s team supervisor looked between her and Edderson in mild horror. She didn’t know if he was frightened by seeing their teammate injured and close to yet another untimely death, or if it was because of the dark energies swirling between them that went against much of what they learned and come to believe.

“Ainsley,” he whispered hurriedly. “You cannot be using such dark magic.”

“I’m saving him,” she bit back. “What else would you have me do?”

The lack of response was enough of an answer. She didn’t know if that was a more frightening concept—how fear could sometimes remove us from our compassion. They were more scared at the prospect of dark magic and the lives of our comrades, unliving or not, rather than the very enemy we bear arms against.

I’m saving him…their fear means nothing.

But it also meant everything. It meant the looks of distrust and anger would continue. It meant possible rejection, lack of faith, and constantly being held at arm’s length.

Fear was a curious thing. Ainsley had learned that just as easily as you could fight through it, it could clasp onto you with an iron grip. And to unshackle themselves from such monsters…well, that was the next battle.

@daily-writing-challenge

day 23 Serendipity/Frightened

The Legion's presence was all over the Broken Isles. It didn't matter where one chose to go, everything living there was suffering from invading demons. Against demons Leo'mar had no hesitation to engage and take them out unless there were too many nearby.

Frightened ( @daily-writing-challenge​ )

World: Final Fantasy 14

Content Warning: Death/Violence

“I never had the chance to bury him. They wouldn’t even let me say goodbye. For all I know they left him face down in the grass for the animals… and he was still warm when they sent us away.”

K’thalen watched in horror as his father fell to the ground, stripped of his breeding rights, the respect of his tribe, and his life. His blood stained the northernmost side of the nearest tree red, with the new Nunh raising his soiled blade to revel and bask in his victory. His limbs were still twitching when K’thalen’s mother stepped before her son and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s time for you to venture out on your own.” Her voice was impassive and distant, as it had always been. “You and the other boys are now a threat to his breedin’ rights. You must be long gone by the time the sun rises tomorrow.”

“B-but…” K’thalen looked up at his mother with swelling eyes. “But I’m too young, momma…! I’ll die out there…!”

“No you won’t.” His brother’s voice called out from behind. “We both have to leave, aye? Why not travel together?”

“Tia must travel alone.” His mother coldly spoke. “You would do a great disservice to the tribe by breakin’ one of our most sacred laws.”

K’thalen reached out to take her hand, but she stepped away and left before he could touch her. Sniffling, he watched his mother leave with the other women to both tend to their new Nunh’s wounds, and to exercise his breeding rights. Traumatized. Terrified. He wanted to scream out to his mother now that he needed her the most, but he was already a stranger in her eyes. When he turned, his brother was gone as well; likely ushered away by the warrior women on the tribe. Orphaned by his father, forsaken by his mother, abandoned by his brother. Now K’thalen was truly alone.

And he was only eight years old. Too young to know how to hunt, how to fight, how to survive. What hope did he have out in the wilderness of the Black Shroud? Where birds of prey soared silently through the trees to catch meals twice his size? Where carnivorous plants could easily overpower him, swallow him whole, or pump him with toxins? Where the Ixal raid the border of the forest and kill anything they can’t enslave? What hope did he have now?

It was all he could think about, walking through the pitch black wilderness. Not five minutes out on his own and his stomach was already growling. The only thing he was able to bring with him were the clothes on his back and his straw Miqo’te doll that valiantly fought away his nightmares while he slept.

He had to think. There were berries he loved to eat as a snack out here in the Black Shroud, but he had to be careful; the pink berries were edible, but the red ones would leave him paralyzed for hours. Or were those the pink ones? Thinking about it too hard made K’thalen teary eyed again; he just wanted to go back home and sleep. He just wanted to hold his mother again. He just wanted to be safe.

He just wanted to live.

The faint snapping of a twig almost caused him to drop his doll and panic. “W-who’s there?!” He shouted, snatching a rock by his feet to arm himself. “Don’t come any c-closer! I mean it…!"

He saw the familiar yellow glint of his eyes before he recognized his voice. "Keep your voice down Thalley. Or do you want them to catch us?”

“Nolas…?!” K'thalen couldn’t believe his eyes. “W-what are you doing here…?”

K'nolas gave his little brother a quizzical look. “We’re leaving the Black Shroud to begin our Tia trainin’, yeah? Come on- we still have a ways before we’re off the tribe’s territory.” K'thalen dropped the rock in his grasp, broke off into a stumbling sprint, and crashed into his brother’s side. Quietly he began to weep, his arms wrapped tightly around his leg, his fears put to rest.

“Aye, aye, calm down there.” Nolas looked around before setting a hand on his brother’s head. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you, alright? Let’s get out of here.”

Thrice they barely avoided the patrols through the woods; they would both be executed if they were found working together. The Koo Tribe didn’t take kindly to Tia violating their strict laws, after all, but deep into the night they managed to reach the edge of the territory and catch their breaths.