Time has a way of blurring memories, of destroying parchments, and of turning stories into legends and legends into myth. And, so, through the annals of history stories fade, lives dim, and our forefathers melt into words on a page.
Therefore, dear reader, I have taken upon myself the duty of laying before you the events that have transpired, so through your eyes, life may once again be breathed back into this tale of death, destruction, and new life.
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Darkness had fallen over the small town of Othelio. Even the stars hid their faces behind the dim, threatening clouds overhead. Eerie silence choked the surroundings with its long, invisible fingers. Not even a cricket could be heard among the wooden structures ominously standing together.
A slight breeze wafted suddenly across the hardened pathway, leaping through an open shutter and fluttering over the dirt floor. It caught, in its frozen tentacles, bright golden hair attached to a motionless object, invisible to the human eye. Even as it blew itself out not a creature moved in the desolate place.
Trees that had seen the rise and fall of kings and queens stood, their branches bristling with pent-up anticipation. They surrounded the small cluster of buildings, an army of green in armor of brown, broken and scarred through the ages. Tender new saplings bent their leaves from the night sky's angry gaze, whispering silently to one another.
It was a night that would be forgotten by many, but those that remembered would never forget.
YOU ARE READING
The Fall of Arnon
AdventureThere is a time in every young man or maiden's life when we must either accept the words spoken to us as truth or dismiss them as simply myths woven through the fabric of time. That, dear reader, is what you must decide. I will relate the events as...
