Man With The Red Hat
The man with the red hat leaned against the great wall. The wall was a massive device of division and protection, but while the man propped himself against it, he thought nothing of its long history. He looked at the pieces of hardened clay that he held in his hands and waited for the legend to come true. The sun was setting and he knew daylight was coming to a quick end.
The pieces of clay were round discs and long tubes of formed and fired earth. The man held the pieces up in the direction of the setting sun and forced his eyes out of focus. The clay did not move.
One half of the sun sank slowly behind the horizon and the man in the red hat put his head down in disappointment. He closed his small hands around the clay pieces and could feel the dust of a thousand years rubbing off on his fingers. He let the pieces fall to the ground and stood up.
The man was startled by a deep groan coming from behind him. He turned around and looked at the great wall and saw nothing but stone. He heard the groan again from the top of the great wall and it was then that he saw a black horse with no rider. The horse snorted and threw his head in an upward direction and the last sliver of sun fell behind the edge of the earth.
The pieces of clay began to rattle at his feet and the man looked down and saw that they were slowly standing themselves up. A white ball of light came from the middle of the swirl of movement; the disks and tubes beginning to form a familiar shape.
First it was the torso. Then the legs took their places as the ball of light disappeared. Arms attached themselves at broad shoulders and a shield and staff formed from the dust at the man's feet. The now headless body was rising at a quickening pace; growing larger and larger until it was bigger than the man was. The man shook violently as fear traveled from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. The warrior stood before him, headless.
The staff rose to twice the height of the man with the red hat and the massive stone hand that held it was closed like a vise. The warrior held the staff out at his side, at length, and then brought his other hand around, giving him a two fisted grip. As the last particles of dusk disintegrated, the staff was swept across the neck of the man and his head fell in a lazy arch to the ground. The red hat was hit by a gust of frigid wind and came to rest against the great wall.
The pieces of clay were round discs and long tubes of formed and fired earth. The man held the pieces up in the direction of the setting sun and forced his eyes out of focus. The clay did not move.
One half of the sun sank slowly behind the horizon and the man in the red hat put his head down in disappointment. He closed his small hands around the clay pieces and could feel the dust of a thousand years rubbing off on his fingers. He let the pieces fall to the ground and stood up.
The man was startled by a deep groan coming from behind him. He turned around and looked at the great wall and saw nothing but stone. He heard the groan again from the top of the great wall and it was then that he saw a black horse with no rider. The horse snorted and threw his head in an upward direction and the last sliver of sun fell behind the edge of the earth.
The pieces of clay began to rattle at his feet and the man looked down and saw that they were slowly standing themselves up. A white ball of light came from the middle of the swirl of movement; the disks and tubes beginning to form a familiar shape.
First it was the torso. Then the legs took their places as the ball of light disappeared. Arms attached themselves at broad shoulders and a shield and staff formed from the dust at the man's feet. The now headless body was rising at a quickening pace; growing larger and larger until it was bigger than the man was. The man shook violently as fear traveled from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. The warrior stood before him, headless.
The staff rose to twice the height of the man with the red hat and the massive stone hand that held it was closed like a vise. The warrior held the staff out at his side, at length, and then brought his other hand around, giving him a two fisted grip. As the last particles of dusk disintegrated, the staff was swept across the neck of the man and his head fell in a lazy arch to the ground. The red hat was hit by a gust of frigid wind and came to rest against the great wall.
posted by Jeremy at Sunday, October 02, 2005
1 Comments:
good job man, I could totaly see it in my minds eye.
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