Campfires
By Casey Douglass
Inky black distance
melts into spots of flickering light, some shine brighter than
others, some dwindling by the second. The glows flicker with the
movements of people, bound together in mutual support and dependence.
Scuffles and chitterings reverberate in the unseen depths, the
darkness too deep for the mortal eye to pierce.
A glow fizzles out
somewhere distant, silent screams racking the ether with undulating
streams of terror. Golden glows of ignorance in the sea of the
Stygian dark, the diminishing dazzles rife with resignation and yet
doubts gnaw.
A lone figure stands
near one such fire, arms spread in farewell as it walks from the
known into the unknown. No cosy death in sparkling decrepitude here,
but walking out to meet its demons and show them that it will not bow
nor walk the paths the herd otherwise follow.
A wanderer, a shaman, a
true soul is forged.