Thursday, March 29, 2007

Scrolls of the Gatekeeper (Part VII) The Watcher

(He is the Watcher. Chosen to watch over the land of Canaan, the last outpost before the Heavenly realms. Son of Seth, a strong Warrior, the last of Paragon's Watchers. He is banished, however, no longer welcome and the Canaanites want nothing to do with his kind.)

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Josh Sethson’s spirit, trapped for the most part within his inner chambers, releases into a high state of alert. The Whisperers are here.

“I can smell your rotting flesh,” he says with a smirk. His pulse quickens and vibrates in every vein. Beads of sweat chill his face and cascade down his neck. In one hand, scarred with the reminders of battles gone by, he holds the dagger his late brother gave him (a six and a quarter inch steel blade with three different edge combinations). In the other, he clutches a few stones along with a slingshot.

White flakes disperse as brittle branches of the old forest tremble under the weight of an early snowfall. Birds flutter away in sudden panic. Josh turns to the left, then twists to his right.

“Too many shadows,” he mumbles. He is swift and stealthy. His movements only disturb the wind. Nevertheless, the Whisperers mock and frolic within the darkness that is beginning to surround the Watcher. He stops, giving cold mist a chance to catch up and settle around him. Finally, convinced that the creatures from the Land of Perdition will not fight, he returns the dagger between the leather straps that hold his boots together. The stones and slingshot he buries into his pocket.

His long black winter cloak sweeps over the hilt of his sword—a Watcher’s Sword. The last of the sons of Seth, heroes of the ancient world, steadies his hands and controls his breathing. At a moment’s notice, he is ready to release the iron blade from its weathered sheath. Still he sees nothing, but without a doubt, the whisper is heard—a very loud, scratchy whisper.


To Be Continued . . .




To keep your own scrolls visit the Gatekeeper's Shoppe for your special journal. And before you enter the castle ask the fair maidens for a few bars of their handmade soap if you please. We might be a tad bit rustic in decor, but we all be clean.







2 comments:

Lady G~ said...

There is nothing like handmade soaps.I just recently wrote an entry regarding this very topic. http://aglanceintomyworld.blogspot.com/

I bookmarked you handmade soap link. I'll be visiting them later on today. Thanks for the heads up...

The GateKeeper said...

You are soooo welcome. How sweet you are.

 
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