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“The Gathering”….. Jarod grimaced, willing an opportunity to strike the lurking shadows with a relentless assault…..

Last updated on September 12, 2023

Mr. P. Hacker, Author, USA, 10th. September, 2023.  His gaping mouth relished every breath while staggering in throbbing pain. Jarod Fiddler leaned his bulky frame against the stone barrier that was once a passage.
His crusted lips, moist with settling blood, were trembling for hope. Heaving breaths vibrated the stout man’s slobber; harping strings of dire thought connected his parting lips. His misty eyes focused in and out of clear vision. Calloused and shaking, Fiddler braced his hands on the cold wall, seeking a prayer to open it.
Sibilant deep breaths, he screamed an agonizing chord that echoed throughout the shaft. Alarming, Fiddler hears sudden whispers, haunting his soul with the coming of his death. He yelled with a spit-filled rage, “Stay away! I have yet to bludgeon my last foe! Stay away!”

The whispers continued. Frantic, his foggy view focused on a sweeping shadow wriggling across the jagged tunnel. Jarod grimaced, willing an opportunity to strike the lurking shadows with a relentless assault. His jerking eyes wandered the walls, believing a collector of souls wanted his. He kept a frantic spirit in his frightened body, forgetting his insufferable pain. Willing his bravery, he worked his favorite hammer from its sheath, letting the thick, bludgeoning end strike the stone floor.

The stout warrior’s strength had fled after he plummeted from the castle keep. Surprised, his lifeforce clutched onto every fractured bone, every torn flesh to remain resilient. Most would have perished on impact. Was this divine or mere luck?

He whimpered with shoulder-shaking cries, screaming in terror, “I am not ready to die. Give me the will to carry on.” His tarnished scale mail was colored in a bloody hue from chest to seam. As another shadow slithered across the wall to his right, he jerked his head in a furtive stare. They were coming for him, he frightenedly thought.

Forcing an agonizing smile, Jarod Fiddler laughed aloud, screaming in befuddled chords, “Fine, come get me! Come get me!!!” He spun around in confusion, swaying while rooted by the stone wall. He suddenly slid down the wall in submission, finding a seat with his back pressed against the lumpy curvature that hid the forbidden cavern.

A loud echoing ping reverberated through the tunnel, discarding his hammer. Fiddler’s breath slowed while he sat with his arms dangling at his side and his chin tucked to his chest. He now realizes that death had caught up with him.

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