Monsters in the Dark

They had been tracking the she-orc through the dark passages surrounding their city for several days. Zakial knew these tunnels like the back of his hand, but always she seemed to be one step ahead, darting through side passages and avoiding terrible pitfalls and the sorts of horrors only one who lived in the deep could believe. Only once had they seen her, only for an instant, before one of his soldiers (Maklian, the fool) sprung a trap that cost him his life and nearly killed them all.
    She had been striking at their patrols for some time now. She started off attacking slave caravans, likely out of some foolish notion of freeing her “people” from bondage. It was more likely that any who escaped were killed by the other dangers that called these caverns home. And yet she remained, even became bolder. She killed an entire patrol only a week before, which had in turn triggered this little expedition.
    Zakial would not be so easily perturbed, however. The savage woman was feared by many of his brethren, called a monster, but he knew she was mortal. She would die like any other of a hundred lesser beings he had spitted on his blade.
    Another day. More dangers. Jarelial, Maklian’s cousin, nearly stumbled headlong into a fungal bloom. Stupidity must run in the family, Zakial thought. No matter. The deep would claim the weak, the infirm, the foolish. And only the strong, capable, and ingenious would remain.
    More hours passed. Zakial lost the trail. Actually, the trail was simply gone. He went over it several times. It was as if she’d disappeared. Then he saw something up ahead. Movement. Light.
    A tiny fire, little more than a single ember burned on the ground. A sign? He led the group forward, only to realize his mistake too late.
    The flame exploded into a brilliant flash. The denizens of the dark, unaccustomed to such bright lights, clutched their eyes. They had fallen into her web, Zakial thought. He heard the flash of blades, a scream of pain, and a body drop. When he could see again, he saw Carvian with a deep gash across his chest and Jarelial’s head laying several paces from his body. The she-orc was nowhere to be found.
    “Spread out! Eyes open!” he shouted, realizing that his force would quickly be half what it was starting out but nonetheless refusing to retreat. He couldn’t retreat. In the eyes of the Matrons, retreat was failure, and failure would mean death.
    At least here he had a chance.
    To his left he heard the snap of a crossbow. Carvian fell, the bolt striking directly into the gash that had been left by her sword.
    Though he still couldn’t see her, one of his men shouted “There!” and let loose his own crossbow bolt, which clinked off the cavern wall.
    She jumped into battle, driving one of her swords into the crossbowman’s shoulder. She reflexively spun, bringing her other blade around her body and cut across his final soldier’s leg. Without changing direction, she let her momentum carry her blade out of the crossbowman’s shoulder, who fell to the ground, and straight at Zakial.
    He cumbersomely dodged the blade, practically throwing himself at the wall to get away from certain death and try to get his bearings. His other man, apparently unable to get to his sword as he struggled to keep himself upright, struck out with the dagger he kept in his belt. He stuck it into her armor, but apparently was unable to force the blade through, because she didn’t even acknowledge its presence. She sliced downward, nearly cleaving his torso in two. She threw her other sword, overhead, straight at him.
    It stuck in his chest. The pain was unbearable. It might have missed his heart, but surely broke his ribs and pierced his lung. As he lay there, bleeding on the stone behind and below him, he considered how it all went terribly wrong. It had been over in seconds.
    He looked at her, examining his soldier’s corpses and retrieving everything useful they’d carried. Food. Water. Crossbow bolts. Several vials of poison, meant for her. She looked over at him, saw him still breathing. She stood up, walked over to him.
    He looked at her as she approached, dagger in hand. She almost looked…Like him. Certainly she was larger, broader, had a different skin color, different hair. She was matted with filth and covered in the blood of his brethren, but she was a living, thinking, breathing person. A normal person, but stronger, more capable, more ingenious…Than he. And that scared him more than any monster would. She was over him. He saw the dagger plunging downward…
    And all was black.

You Probably Think This Poem's About You

You shut me up with your fist in my mouth,
Put there by your own mistrust and doubt.
You left me sitting in mud, down on my knees,
Blood in my face with the world to see.

You followed me home, wouldn’t leave me alone,
Wanted to make sure everyone would know,
The injury wasn’t enough for your pride to own,
The insult would be what killed old Joe.

You say you’re my friend but now I doubt,
Since you think you can hurt me without
Me fighting back in anger and pain.
Did you really think I’d just circle the drain?

You said you respect me, and that may be so,
But not more than the image you’ve fostered within.
I’ve unfairly judged you? Well you ought to know,
Hypocrisy is a God-damned sin.

The rage I built has not faded.
As my soul still feels so degraded.
I cannot imagine a more terrible end.
Cheated and betrayed by a friend.
Now friends are forever but this much is true:
If you’ve no time for me, I’ve no time for you.

Truth

I've long been a believer of Truth. The idea, as I see it, is that if you give someone the truth nobody can hold a lie against you. That doesn't mean, of course, that I don't lie. I do. We all do. We have to, in order to get by with all the other people, liars, that we see and deal with day to day. Not all lies are ultimately bad. It all depends on the reason behind the lie, as all actions depend upon reason. If we do something for a right reason, it's right. If we do something for the wrong reason, than not so much.

But how do we decide right and wrong. And what if we are incorrect? Well, for the first I have no answer. Which is to say, I have no answer for you. I know how I decide right and wrong. It's convoluted, messy, but for the most part it gets that job done. But that still doesn't mean I don't make mistakes. We all do. And with good reason. Nobody's perfect. The more we try, the bigger we're likely to screw up. Holding yourself accountable for those times when you messed up: that is important. But perhaps more important is figuring out why, and how not to do it again in the future.

Number 2 is where the Truth comes in. It is what makes it so difficult. If I lie to myself, certainly, it makes it impossible for me to learn from my mistakes. But if someone else lies, it is equally impossible. And "lie" is so often taken to be an active word. But in truth, omission is also lying. If we fail to freely give the important details, if they must be pried from us, than eventually or immediately, we have lied.

I strive to learn and tell the Truth as best as I can. As well as I'm able. Sometimes reaching Truth might even require a lie, although that is, as all things, conditional. There are more and less important things to be truthful about, regardless of what we are taught about "little white lies" and all of that nonsense. But there is a cool, serene truth about lying: Using our lies as a buffer, as we always have, has made us soft. Many of us are unwilling to accept the truths that we hide from. All of us eventually hide from truths that we know. Everybody lies, as Greg House would say. And, in that one instance at least, he was speaking the Truth.

But I Don't Know You

I saw you walking yesterday,
Wanted to stop and say hello.
But I just let you walk on by,
I guess you didn’t see me.

You know I think it’s kind of funny
The way you talk when you’re around.
You know I think, I think it might be,
A chance for me to leave the ground

I’d love to love you, but I don’t know you,
I’d love you to love me, but you don’t know me,
I’d love to know what I could do
To let you see who I am

Way back when we first met,
I sensed that you were a lot like me.
And I thought maybe if you wanted,
We would find the truth.

I think we could have had what it takes,
If only we’d spent more time together.
But always the fool that love makes,
I still feel it now.

I’d love to love you, but I don’t know you,
I’d love you to love me, but you don’t know me,
I’d love to know what I could do
To let you see who I am

I’d love to love you, but I don’t know you,
I’d love you to love me, but you don’t know me,
I’d love to know what I could do
To let you see just who I am