The Martyr's War

Prologue 

               My mother kissed me on the forehead and tucked me in. I had never met my father so he wasn't there to do the same, and my mother wouldn't tell me why. She said the usual, wished me a good night and then left. I scampered out of bed and grabbed Jonesy; my stuffed tiger that I'd had for as long as I can remember, the kitchen knife I had snuck earlier, the book I had found in a chest hidden in the attic - the only thing in our house that had belonged to my father, along with the red wine from the cellar.

 After grabbing the black paint from my art cubby, I opened the book and flipped to the marked page that I had been studying for some time now. I copied the symbol from the book and something I didn’t understand onto the back of Jonesy that read “et accersi tuum, oportet adducere ad ones doloris sui” using the paint I grabbed. 

Following what I could understand from the book, I cut Jonesy’s chest open and poured some wine in, then ran the blade across my hand; letting the blood run down into the cut on Jonesy’s chest. Almost immediately, he started smouldering, soon after he was engulfed in flames. Seeming like it was born from Jonesy; a large humanoid figure of fiery blaze appeared.

 It raised its fingertips, slowly spreading fire amongst my room. I grabbed my blanket and threw it on top in an attempt to smother the flames, but it stopped short from the figure, beginning to set ablaze from the inside out. Unable to tell if my eyes were deceiving me, I swore it said “patrocinium ignis inferni”. My mind raced for an answer, imagery of the marked page of the book flashed before my eyes. 

What was this? Had I caused it? All I wanted was to bring Jonesy to life, I just wanted a friend. Everything faded to black.

A shadowy cloaked figure carrying a scythe appeared from what appeared to be a portal of some kind. It hovered over to the collapsed child and whispered something into his index and middle finger, touching them to the child's forehead. A purple glow consumed the child, and he started breathing again. Using the same portal this strange entity entered through, the mysterious figure left.

 When I snapped out of it, the flaming character was gone and my mother was shaking me. Still disoriented and clueless as to what happened, my mother carried me outside, and we watched our beloved home burn down in front of us; powerless. 

The Headstone

 

Today was one of the better days. Kevin woke up feeling good, better than usual. He decided to make something of this before it was gone. 

After going about his morning, he started to think about what to do today: It’s been a while since I visited what’s left of the old house, and Jonesy. He thought to himself, prompting a forced half smile on his face.

 Kevin stepped outside into the dreary weather, storm clouds were approaching, carrying the scent of rain. High kilometre winds were already battering down trees, mail posts and anything lying in their path. It’s gonna be a rough one, but a plan’s a plan. Kevin thought. And besides, I don’t have anything else to do today. So he set off to see his childhood home. 

After an hour drive through treacherous weather, he found himself pulling up to the driveway. Home, sweet home. A feeling of shame washed over Kevin as his eyes gazed over the burnt remains of what used to be the centre of all his memories; it had been a long time. 

He got out and circled the house, reminiscing on his past. When he made it back to the front of the house, he strode towards the door after hesitating. The half of a barren oak door swung open, the hinges shrieking in joy of receiving use after all this time. The ashen floor creaked and crunched under his every step, particles of all his family’s burnt belongings rising into the air. Kevin approached his old room with a feeling of deceit, This couldn’t be real, and it couldn’t be my doing.