03-18-2024, 10:13 AM
He watches them come.
From shadow and sunlight and rain. It moves him, in a way, like the wind in the high crown of the trees. His dark eyes slide along each face. Some are fire and others feather and they look back at him with their million eyes.
When he was young his mother would take him out from their home to the commons. She would tell him to look at each face and remember them. She would tell him someday he would be something great. He never wanted to be great and even then, would protest against her. But now, he thinks she must have held the hope more for herself. Çevik didn’t know if his mother was dead or alive now, he could barely remember the sound of her voice.
The spotted stallion lifts his head. Flames lick around his face. His tail sweeps the ground and the smell of burning intensifies.
“We dismantle them,” his voice cracks like fire. His dark eyes roam over each other, unsure of who might remain with him or who would simply wander off. Who could hear the call or who wanted to remain deaf to true purpose.
But, he thinks, what is the purpose anyway?
“We break down their kingdoms, we pull apart their sense of civilization,”
A pause,
“We burn it.”
Çevik smiles then, his yellow teeth showing grim and crooked. He glances around them and he can feel something pulsing through him–perhaps it is life, he thinks, or maybe just more flames.
“We become a plague to their houses, we scatter their ashes on the wind and from them rebuild a world in our own image.”
From shadow and sunlight and rain. It moves him, in a way, like the wind in the high crown of the trees. His dark eyes slide along each face. Some are fire and others feather and they look back at him with their million eyes.
When he was young his mother would take him out from their home to the commons. She would tell him to look at each face and remember them. She would tell him someday he would be something great. He never wanted to be great and even then, would protest against her. But now, he thinks she must have held the hope more for herself. Çevik didn’t know if his mother was dead or alive now, he could barely remember the sound of her voice.
The spotted stallion lifts his head. Flames lick around his face. His tail sweeps the ground and the smell of burning intensifies.
“We dismantle them,” his voice cracks like fire. His dark eyes roam over each other, unsure of who might remain with him or who would simply wander off. Who could hear the call or who wanted to remain deaf to true purpose.
But, he thinks, what is the purpose anyway?
“We break down their kingdoms, we pull apart their sense of civilization,”
A pause,
“We burn it.”
Çevik smiles then, his yellow teeth showing grim and crooked. He glances around them and he can feel something pulsing through him–perhaps it is life, he thinks, or maybe just more flames.
“We become a plague to their houses, we scatter their ashes on the wind and from them rebuild a world in our own image.”
çevik