The Reluctant I, Sharp Memories

Sharp Memories

The best birthday present in the whole world was swiftly coming to an end. The airship juddered and shook beneath the pressures the storm put upon the ship. And the insistent whispering only got worse. “Let us in, we'll keep you safe. You are our brother, you can join us. Yes, join us, dance on the wind with us, forsake your earthbound shell and play with us on the winds. The stars have spoken, you are a Prince of the Wind. Let us in Sharp.”

Over and over, the whispers came, entreating and begging, cajoling, demanding. By this point, the shaking of the ship had gotten worse, the guards had instructed the passengers to the secured seats around the edges of the ballroom, and we strapped ourselves in. The lightning flashed, angry and vivid through the portholes and windows, and it looked like figures danced there in the sky, mocking and menacing, and burning through your eyelids when they closed.

With each boom of thunder, the voices roared, incoherent with rage and power. They began cursing the earth dwellers that dared violate their skies with their magic, that dared trespass before the King of the Wind's hunt. “They are all prey, all prey before the King of the Wind, the Lord of Death, his scythe is the very wind that will crush your ship, let us in, and we will spare you brother.”

The lights onboard flashed, their magic unstable, flaring and fading in rhythm to the storm outside. The energies holding the ship aloft crackled, strange purple lightning mimicking the white figures dancing around the periphery. Muttering and tears arose from all sides, cries for mercy, and prayers, a palpable aura of fear, each flash of lightning and rumble of thunder eliciting cries of terror from the passengers. Even the guards and crew were looking uncomfortable, the aroma of sweat and fear getting to all of us. In near panic, I whispered “Come brothers, save us.”

Flash. They were among us, followed by an unearthly thunder, the sound of which alone threatened to burst eardrums, and throw the guards from their feet. They were lightning incarnate, tall, lean, fierce and utterly abhorrent. Light danced on their skin and they seemed to flow toward us, the guards began yelling war cries and swinging blades that were designed to deal with this threat. But never in such numbers, never with beings consumed with this much rage. Their voices boomed, their claws reaped, and blood began to flow. Flash, and limbs began to fly, staining the glass around the lights, and thus the world a shade of crimson that only enhanced the terror of the scene.

They flowed around defenses, cutting and killing, wounding and bleeding. The elementals themselves became stained with blood, the floor with viscera, and all manner of filth. The passengers broke, and ran, chased by the laughing horrors, murdered and trapped. Helpless. A few of the noblemen trained in the sword gathered up fallen weapons and tried to fight back, to defend their wives and daughters. But it was futile, the creatures toyed with them, snatching children and devouring their flesh, using them as shields, forcing fathers to strike sons or be struck down in turn. Blood flowed, a river washing away the clean lines of the dance floor, stirring and sloshing, and boiling with the heat of the creatures.

And then “We have your reward Sharp. This one is yours, yes? She will make you one of us, a Prince of the Wind!” The tallest of the creatures stood, holding a struggling girl, my sister, Shira. Her face was pale and splashed with blood, her mouth open in a scream. Cuts decorated her body, slashed clothing hung from her frame. Terror, she was consumed with it. And the creature cut her open, blood like precious rubies torn from her throat, a gurgling whimper all she had left.

656 words. 1 "I", 1 "my". I hate this assignment, far too constricting.