They Took His Eyes
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Once he had been a warrior, a rogue, a rapscallion. He had walked
among gods and spirits and the great mystics. He had been a student then a
teacher. A fighter. A conqueror. A king. Once. But that had all be once, but
once wasn’t now. Now was a bitter cold bitch and now was slowly killing him.
Through trickery and treachery the Young Ones killed the gods. With
guile they stole their powers and set out to eliminate all those that opposed
them. Using deceit, they surprised and trapped him. The Young Ones captured and
took him prisoner. Locked away in a cell, they fed off his power and stole from
him all that they could.
His voice was taken, not so he would be silent, but so that they
could command.
His muscles were taken, not so he would be weak, but so they would
be strong.
His dreams were taken, not so he would be cruel, but so that they
could feel.
His eyes were taken, not so he would be blinded, but so that they could see.
Drained, unable to fight back physically, he turned inward.
They kept him alive, inside a cage, so they could feed, steal his energy,
revitalize themselves whenever the need arose. The gods needed no such host to
feed from, but The Young Ones were weak vampires, pale reflections of those
that came before.
They kept him alive, thinking him defeated. Thinking of him only
as food. Thinking but not realizing, for none of them thought to steal his
wisdom. They took his eyes, but none realized they couldn’t reach his Third-Eye
and that he was only biding his time, waiting for his opportune moment.
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