THE story OF effigy
* It is the night of the annual celebration of light *
"Here we've come to see you burn in this pile of stone. Light the sky, the ritual complete again. Embers rise beneath our feet, with vengeful eyes we see one more day, high above your effigy."
A thousand years ago a man lived by the water, sitting in a tower two days from the village proper. Shunned by his people for his threats of disaster, he remained at the moor claiming to be its master.
Lured into the forest one night by a whisper, the master of the moor stood before a shapeshifter. The Leshi it was called, a spirit of the woodlands, patrolling the old growth in search of new victims. But intrigued by bravado of this man from the tower, he offered a deal if it meant more to devour.
"I give you the power to make things of great size, with the chance to fly the clouds and witness their demise. Send them to darkness, get them to flee, they will pass through the forest and run into me."
Day turned to night as the object took shape, a large sheet of iron that would control their dark fate. The villagers were stunned as it soon blocked the sun, a new man of old returning for his fun.
"I will be their sky king, I will show them my power. And if the shifter is lucky, he'll have prey by the hour".
Atop the iron skyline he sat high looking low, from the black mechanical chair he watched the entire show. With lenses, gadgets, and gears, and built to last for years, the throne had many counters tracking all of their tears. The massive two-way lens, the only source of light, poked through the iron, showing who sat there all night.
A girl of ten, glowing in the night, ignored every plea for helping them fight. Her magic was strong yet still unknown, all she ever wanted was to be left alone. Witch Runner they called her, why wouldn't she try, they looked for yet another as more days passed by.
The most famous of all hunters, known as the Mercenary, torturer of hidden realms, neighbor of the shaded fairy. They promised him gold and other things old, finding hope in his story when cautiously told. A seeker of souls, he could hear their calls, conducting most business in a room without walls. But all he could find was a sky of metal, shouting empty threats, they would all have to settle.
"I hear you up there, you think you can escape? Just ask the sightless men who continue to wait."
Back to the night of ascension, when the creature proved to be real. A small, glowing girl in the forest also made the deal . For she was given magic in telepathic thought, to be used if one day the man had truly delivered not. No wanderers had yet come to seek the source of many whispers, the greedy king would pay a price, taken down by little sister. If only she could find a weakness, a way to send her thoughts through iron. The lens would be the only path to send her Trojan horse much higher. Laced with proper consequence she planted her poison thoughts, fly straight into the sun he would with logic tied in knots. In the guillotine square the villagers waited, staring at images from the sky he created.
Filled with great desire to seek the legendary sun, the master flew at speeds not even light could soon outrun. Loss of control and loss of sight, he smashed into that star of light. Begging for pardon he called to the beast, "spare me again, so I can see you at least."
Awakened from sleep by the nightmare's warning, he knew he'd been dreaming, and was still king that morning. A peak through the lens proved just a bit surprising, all below had gathered and most of them rising. "I am still your king, must I once again prove it? The sun called out for me, so I am flying straight to it!"
Instructions followed blind, he left his chair at speeds unfathomed. Filled with crazed adrenaline, leaving sanity behind him. But the sun approached too fast not unlike his prior dream, wide eyed and nearly blind he vanished fast within its beams. Light no longer hindered, rushed in like angry water, escaping through the iron, thanks to his mother's daughter.
A celebration born, returning every year. When night became the day, the ending of their fear. Maiden Child they called her, Witch Runner no more, thankful for new lives, forever in their lore.
*It is the night of the annual celebration of light*
"Here we've come to see you burn in this pile of stone. Light the sky, the ritual complete again. Embers rise beneath our feet, with vengeful eyes we see one more day, high above your effigy."
The Leshi remains within the lonely forest, still whispering for promises in a slow, gentle chorus.
"Here we've come to see you burn in this pile of stone. Light the sky, the ritual complete again. Embers rise beneath our feet, with vengeful eyes we see one more day, high above your effigy."
A thousand years ago a man lived by the water, sitting in a tower two days from the village proper. Shunned by his people for his threats of disaster, he remained at the moor claiming to be its master.
Lured into the forest one night by a whisper, the master of the moor stood before a shapeshifter. The Leshi it was called, a spirit of the woodlands, patrolling the old growth in search of new victims. But intrigued by bravado of this man from the tower, he offered a deal if it meant more to devour.
"I give you the power to make things of great size, with the chance to fly the clouds and witness their demise. Send them to darkness, get them to flee, they will pass through the forest and run into me."
Day turned to night as the object took shape, a large sheet of iron that would control their dark fate. The villagers were stunned as it soon blocked the sun, a new man of old returning for his fun.
"I will be their sky king, I will show them my power. And if the shifter is lucky, he'll have prey by the hour".
Atop the iron skyline he sat high looking low, from the black mechanical chair he watched the entire show. With lenses, gadgets, and gears, and built to last for years, the throne had many counters tracking all of their tears. The massive two-way lens, the only source of light, poked through the iron, showing who sat there all night.
A girl of ten, glowing in the night, ignored every plea for helping them fight. Her magic was strong yet still unknown, all she ever wanted was to be left alone. Witch Runner they called her, why wouldn't she try, they looked for yet another as more days passed by.
The most famous of all hunters, known as the Mercenary, torturer of hidden realms, neighbor of the shaded fairy. They promised him gold and other things old, finding hope in his story when cautiously told. A seeker of souls, he could hear their calls, conducting most business in a room without walls. But all he could find was a sky of metal, shouting empty threats, they would all have to settle.
"I hear you up there, you think you can escape? Just ask the sightless men who continue to wait."
Back to the night of ascension, when the creature proved to be real. A small, glowing girl in the forest also made the deal . For she was given magic in telepathic thought, to be used if one day the man had truly delivered not. No wanderers had yet come to seek the source of many whispers, the greedy king would pay a price, taken down by little sister. If only she could find a weakness, a way to send her thoughts through iron. The lens would be the only path to send her Trojan horse much higher. Laced with proper consequence she planted her poison thoughts, fly straight into the sun he would with logic tied in knots. In the guillotine square the villagers waited, staring at images from the sky he created.
Filled with great desire to seek the legendary sun, the master flew at speeds not even light could soon outrun. Loss of control and loss of sight, he smashed into that star of light. Begging for pardon he called to the beast, "spare me again, so I can see you at least."
Awakened from sleep by the nightmare's warning, he knew he'd been dreaming, and was still king that morning. A peak through the lens proved just a bit surprising, all below had gathered and most of them rising. "I am still your king, must I once again prove it? The sun called out for me, so I am flying straight to it!"
Instructions followed blind, he left his chair at speeds unfathomed. Filled with crazed adrenaline, leaving sanity behind him. But the sun approached too fast not unlike his prior dream, wide eyed and nearly blind he vanished fast within its beams. Light no longer hindered, rushed in like angry water, escaping through the iron, thanks to his mother's daughter.
A celebration born, returning every year. When night became the day, the ending of their fear. Maiden Child they called her, Witch Runner no more, thankful for new lives, forever in their lore.
*It is the night of the annual celebration of light*
"Here we've come to see you burn in this pile of stone. Light the sky, the ritual complete again. Embers rise beneath our feet, with vengeful eyes we see one more day, high above your effigy."
The Leshi remains within the lonely forest, still whispering for promises in a slow, gentle chorus.
Poem by Sean Thompson
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