Creative Corner

His heart began to thump. The doctor, Jaquolyn, cried with glee.

“His heart! Come here, his heart!” yelled Jaquolyn. She’d been operating on this man for what felt like days. He’d returned from the mountains of Elden, frozen and hurt. He’d taken a fall down the cliffside and had managed to drag himself to the nearest town, Mountain’s Edge. His leg had to be amputated, replaced with that of the wood of an old oak tree. The tree, now dead, of course, was once big and strong, like the man.

Nobody was around to listen to Jaquolyn’s rabbles. She found it entertaining to shout to the animals roaming around her doors, watching them scurry away in fear. She’d found this man, alone, crawling slowly to her doorstep. She found him and took him in. In truth, she was not a doctor by trade. Her knowledge of medical techniques was primitive, even by standards of her time. The wooden leg, of which she fashioned from an oak tree, was not sanded or properly taken care of. The piece of wood itself was rather weak, twisting and bending under any sort of stress. But Jaquolyn was content, yes, for she knew no better.

The fact that she even was able to revive her was astounding. She had done nearly nothing, only giving him a warm place and bandaging his cuts. He broke an arm alongside a leg, of which Jaquolyn considered not quite a lost cause. His leg, however, was nonfunctional even by the lowest standards. It had to be replaced by something.

What Jaquolyn did not notice, however, was her insufficient stitching of a wound in his neck. A gash, spanning the width of his neck. One of whose origins were not known. It did not look as if any normal animal may have caused it, or if he was cut by that of a branch or sharp stone. The gash was not of a normal colour, no. Rather than the crimson of blood, it outpoured with a deep black. That of a poison, that of oil.

The stitches were weakly done, and as a matter of fact, was bulging outwards! But Jaquolyn did not notice, for she was absorbed in her work on his poor, poor leg. A leg, as broken as her mind, a leg deemed unfixable. She studied her work in awe, absorbed in a narcissistic sense of accomplishment. She patted herself on the back, and as she did, the stitches burst!

An outpouring of black liquid, that of which Jaquolyn never had seen before. The work done by nothing in nature, as nothing made by the earth herself could be as ugly as this! As Jaquolyn scrambled for a solution to fix the dying man, his eyes opened. His irises turned red, then black, then there was nothing. His nose began to move, it could smell the horrible rotting scent coming from the fluid. His ears twitched, looking for any noise. He’d become a monster, no longer a man.

With a lightning quick motion, it reached up, grabbing Jaquolyn by the neck. Jaquolyn flailed her arms, then placed her hands on his wrist, trying to pry him away. His nails dug into her neck, leaving definite marks. Jaquolyn struggled, her face turning that of a deep purple. She tried to cry for help, but she could not.

Then, the outpouring of the black liquid stopped. It was all over the floor now, all over the monster’s ragged clothing. His grip weakened, and eventually lost grip of her neck. His arm fell to the bed as Jaquolyn fell to the floor, gasping for air. As she rose, she was careful not to potentially wake the beast once more. Cautiously, she placed two fingers on the neck of the monster to feel for a pulse, but felt nothing. The heart began to sleep, forever.

Nihmedu wandered the streets, walking to the deep alleyways. He’d a map of his area in his head now, he could easily and quickly traverse the city. He was hiding from something, something he did not know. A fear, maybe, fear of being caught, being imprisoned. It set him away from thievery, at least for a little while.

He did not know he was walking towards his old friend, Horatio, waiting around a corner to stop him. He did not know that Horatio knew. He knew everything - of the murder, of the thievery. He tried to keep it a secret, of course, but he could not. For Horatio knew - he met the man who lost his life.

As Nihmedu walked, Horatio caught his eye. Horatio was following him now, close behind. Nihmedu tried to break into a sprint to escape him, but Horatio was faster. He caught up with ease, grabbing Nihmedu’s shoulder.

“What do you want?” Nihmedu asked, trying to break free.

“You know why I’m here. I know what you are.” Horatio said.

Nihmedu stopped struggling. His head lowered in shame, he did not turn to face Horatio.
“You don’t understand,” Nihmedu began, “I had my reasons.”


“I spoke with him, you know.” Horatio said, “He told me who you were, what you’ve done. Why would you try to hide his death from me? You know what I am.”

Nihmedu shook his head, “He doesn’t know the full story.”

“He had a family. A baby and two toddlers. His wife is in grief, his baby never knew him. The toddlers still wait for him to return, they don’t understand.”


Nihmedu clenched his fist. “You’re lying. You just want me to feel bad.”


“Lying? As if I’d stoop to your level.” Horatio said. He released his grip from Nihmedu, but Nihmedu did not run.

“You don’t get it. I have my reasons for everything I do.” Nihmedu replied, through gritted teeth.

“And so did he. That suit was his craft, one he spent days making.” Horatio said.

Nihmedu scoffed. “So what? My servants would be able to make me a suit in moments.”

“What are you trying to prove?” Horatio asked. “You killed a man-”

“Shut up!” Nihmedu yelled. His voice echoed. The sound of wings fluttering could be heard, a group of crows flying in the skies. Nihmedu took a few breaths before saying, “I did nothing. Nothing at all.”

Horatio sighed. “You cannot hide from me, from the truth. You should know this.”

Nihmedu finally turned around. “You just leave me be.” He began to walk away.

As he walked away, Horatio calmly said, “What are you hiding from?”

Nihmedu stopped. He had no answer. He could only breath, a deep sigh resounded from him.

“Unlike you, I can change who I am. I can become who I want to at the end of each life. This body does not define me. I am not like you, who has one life. You wasted your first chance, I gave you another.” Horatio said. He was getting louder now, almost yelling. “Are you just going to waste this chance? Become a lowly thief, a murderer? I don’t decide what you do, who you are, but I did decide that you were worth something. Are you just going to waste that?”

Nihmedu did not turn his head. The sun in front of him began to set, illuminating the alleyway in an orange and yellow light. The sky was pink, the wind was blowing against him. His hair was blown back in the wind as he stared into the sunset. After a long pause, he finally said, “Yes.”

@kosaa

me too thanks

I'm absolutely captivated - seriously. I came upon the thread because I know you. But now I'm so engrossed in the story of Nihmedu and Horatio that I was sad to catch up with the entire thread. I sat here and read everything in one sitting. I felt like I just picked up a book of tales with pages missing and I'm desperate to find those pages.

Keep it up my friend.

P.S. I would be happy if my lore was half as enchanting and well-written as yours. I'm very honored to have read this.

@Keikoku
Thank you so much! I’m glad you like t. I promise that I will get some more stories out soon.

“She told me! She told me the truth! She told me!” A man yelled, parading around the streets. “Arunika! She told me! She told me!” The man continued, trying to come up with words. He was running up to people, shouting the same thing. Everyone ignored him, however. He was confronted by guards, who promptly took him away. The streets were silent again, save for a mother and her child.

The child pointed in the direction of the man and murmured a question to her mother, who quickly picked up the child. She was scolding him on empty street. She began to walk the other way, continuing to chide him on her way. The day passed, and the street was filled again, with no maniac in sight.

The man struggled to break free. “She told me! She told me!” was all he could repeat. He kicked his legs and flailed his arms, but the grip of the guards was far too strong. He eventually gave up murmuring the same line over and over again. One of the guards asked him to shut up, but he declined. It escalated into a demand, but he still would not be silenced. They eventually made it to the prison, where he was thrown into a jail cell and locked up. He leaned against the back wall, made of cold, stone, taking a dull grey hue. He cradled up into a ball, rocking back and forth as he murmured “She told me! She told me!”

“What’s wrong with him?” the male guard asked. He looked up to his superior,

She looked down on him. “You should know. Worshipping the spirits was outlawed under King Nihmedu, and the law has since stayed under King Zephyr.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. What’s wrong with him? Why is repeating ‘she told me, she told me’ so much?” the young guard asked.

“Some nutcase, I guess.” she responded. She looked back at the man, who was now silently chuckling. The man began to sing.

.......................................“King Zephyr the Leveret,
.......................................Took the throne so young.
.......................................‘He will free us all’,
.......................................The songbirds had sung!”

The female guard shook her head, yelling words of disapproval at the crazed man. This only caused the prisoner to laugh harder.

.......................................“She told me, Arunika did,
.......................................Of a man with no strength.
.......................................I laughed, but little did I know,
.......................................His cowardice knows no length!”

The two brushed him off and began to run away, but not before the man was able to utter his final verse.

......................................“Zephyr the liberator,
......................................Freeing religion and life,
......................................But his title is wrong,
......................................He does nothing to clear the strife!”

Sneaking in through the window, Nihmedu was careful not to make a sound. He tiptoed to the nearest door, it was far too dark to see clearly. He reached out a hand for the doorknob and turned. The cold, metal knob whined as it turned, the door creaking loudly. He entered and shut the door behind him, and lit a candle. He silently made his way to the brown, wooden wardrobe. He opened it quietly and looked at the contents. There was a suit, dimly lit, hanging on its own. It was his own suit, unwrinkled and clean. He took it out and silently changed, leaving his own clothes in the closet in place of the missing contents. It was still his room, after all.

He made his way silently for the window. He blew the candle out and placed it atop a nearby dresser, careful not to make a sound. The dim morning light peeked through the glass panes, barely illuminating the small room. Nihmedu glanced to his right, and saw his desk, bathing in the light. There was a small bag atop it, one he had not placed there on his own. He walked to the dresser, his feet almost dragging across the familiar, warm carpet. He opened the bag and peeked inside and saw a faint yellow glimmer. He picked up the bag and heard a metallic clanking sound. It was full of gold pieces, all of which he stuffed into his pocket without counting. He made his way out the window, leaving it open in case he was to return again. The gold, he spent little time dwelling on. It was obvious Horatio had left it for him and he cared not for why.

Nihmedu made his way to a bakery, one he frequented before he’d joined the stars. He sent messengers out often, but had never been there himself. He only knew of the location because it was one of the few bakeries in town, and by far the brightest. It stood out from everywhere, from the gloomy streets and even from the window he stared out from when he was but a prince. He entered, and his nostrils were immediately filled with the sweet scent of sugar. There was a short line, but it passed quickly. He would have fit right into the crowd had it not been for his shoes, muddy and worn. A reliable pair of boots, yes, but an eyesore.

He ordered two cinnamon buns. They had run out, and so the bakers had to cook a fresh batch. Nihmedu waited impatiently, tapping his feet against the hard floor. The sun had risen further, illuminating the land brightly in Arunika’s beautiful rays. He was starting to get hungry now, shaking his right leg in anticipation for the sweet treat. The scent was beginning to put him into a nice sleep when he heard his name finally called. He approached and paid, and promptly left. He was running late.

He snaked through the streets, dodging people and objects alike. He was careful not to step into potholes and trip. He had a look of determination in his eyes, squinting to see in the direct sunlight. Someone tried to stop him, holding a sign in hand. He did not stop and wait, accidentally knocking over the man. He cursed at Nihmedu, and went back to announcing something, most likely a product he was advertising.

Nihmedu turned, and in front of him was a town square. It was filled with people, all interacting with one another. To the side, there were several benches. Someone was waving to him from the bench, and so he approached. He offered a cinnamon bun, and she promptly accepted. It was Etesia, and she had a bag in her hands. She placed it on Nihmedu’s lap, assuring him it was okay for him to take. He opened it - it was a large box. She smiled at him and pushed him to open it. He smiled, seeing the contents.

It was a nice, shiny new pair of black shoes.

A small platoon of archers marched towards the forest. Leading the charge was Nihmedu, holding his sword high atop his jewelry adorned mount. A group of archers was behind him, flame-tipped arrows ready to fire. The forest was set ablaze by the archers on Nihmedu’s command. The soil was scarred, the scent of smoke strong. Visibility was limited by the thick black smoke.

In an instant, a pillar shot up from inside the forest. Large silhouettes were visible in the pillars, the size of a goliath. The sky went dark, the sun seemingly missing entirely. The earth around them began to tremor, knocking over the platoon and scaring Nihmedu’s mount. He was kicked off as the horse ran away, leaving him in a trail of dust. Behind him, the earth began to collapse in, taking his platoon with it. There was no place for Nihmedu to go but forward into the burning forest, as falling into the chasm created would mean certain death. Nihmedu ran forward into the burning forest, and as the heat touched his skin and the smoke filled his nostrils, he felt a sudden jolt.

He was awake, lying in an alleyway alone. He immediately patted his pant pockets to see if his money was stolen. Luckily, it was not.

It was a reoccuring dream. It felt familiar, but he had not recalled doing anything of the sort. His life as a king felt so far away, as if it truly had never happened. He looked up at the great castle, sitting in the city center overlooking the streets. It was visible from every corner, its complex architecture in full display. Nihmedu sighed once more and turned his back to the castle he once called home and made his way back to the main streets, weary-eyed and badly rested.