Javeor's Short Story: Home

He waited until the night’s 11th hour. By now the Princess rested in the highest tower of the castle, locked away from the dangerous world, yet so oblivious to the dangers that which fated the rest of her life. Silently the peasant journeyed outside, where he stopped at the wall of the tower where she lay. He watched her in the darkness from below, lifting his face to her, letting the light rest on his every surface of darkness. The night was cloudless. The winds wailed between the motionless oak trees as its thin branches clawed out, ever so slightly disturbing the leaves with its hostile screeches. Not the thick moss of the trees nor the damp leaves squirming in his toes could distract the peasant from so enticing a scent. All that encircled him was the sweetness of lavender and rosewood, filling his entire being as he sunk into the grass, like sand washed over by the water, with every breeze passing

“For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection on her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened - then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.”

The forest began to quiver with each syllable of breath, swaying in the affirmation of life. Greens danced, shaking the ashes into the wind, burying them as golden birds sang to their motion. The louder The Fallen’s cries, the louder The North became—as ever vibrant as she was before the darkness charred her skin. My eyes pressed against the soft light dawning over The Furies, seeping in the glory of the morning as if the darkness never was.

Strutting through the familiar, gate worn by time, I spread my arms, taking in the saccharine aroma of the fresh grass. The remaining glimmers of the sun glisten on every blade that peeks through the moist soil, composing a sea of sparkling beauty, only comparable to a poem. The meadow is breathtaking this evening, as the sun sets behind the trees in the distance, leaving a glow of pinks, peaches, ambers, and crimsons behind as if a bowl of fruit had exploded in the sky.

They say the desert is unforgiving. Especially for those that do not belong there and she definitely did not belong here. Matix confined to a manmade plaster shell in a hospital somewhere in the Chihuahuan desert she had a feeling she was just like a turtle washed too far inland. Just like that turtle who needs the currents of the ocean in order to survive, she needs to use the only moving currents she has left to help her finish what she started. She promised never to use this again but what other choice does she have now, she can’t just lay here and do nothing while others struggle forth to survive. Her brother will be very displeased…

The sun broke through the grey and breathed life into the awakening city. The woman’s eyes though opened, were empty and moved accordingly to the flock of doves that soared through the chilled air. She gazed at the beautifully choreographed dance above where delicate wings formed prominent silhouettes against the comforting rays. The ancient apple tree which only last month was a mess of unruly twigs and withered leaves had now flourish into a bounty of lively red apples that heralded the Springtime. The richness of the sanctuary generated distant and painful memories in her head like the scenes of a tragic movie. She could still picture the remorseful look in the man’s eyes during his last breath. Her father, a man of ambitions and responsibilities, was not the father to throw her into the sky and tell her how much he loved

The vast wilderness opened around them, desert where he rode. Engulfing the rider and his horse in a valley surrounded by mountains, he could feel a cold draft race down the steep slopes. The sky brought on that hazy Autumn feel, where you can’t see anything but gray clouds and the wings of birds leaving for the oncoming winter.

Thirty minutes had passed since Jahlil had entered the bank and he had wasted all of his ammo shooting rounds outside to fool the police into thinking the threat was larger than it was. Jahlil trained his weapon on his hostages and yelled for them to shut up and stay still. The police were outside yelling for him to come out on the bullhorn. They still had no clue how many people were armed inside he thought. Jahlil stood frozen. Waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for the huge double doors to get toppled by the swat battering ram and the full brunt of the law to bear down on him. It never came. Instead a lone police officer came in through the back. He was a short Mexican man. He looked very desperate but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. The moment Jahlil and the officer locked eyes their weapons came up. “Drop your weapon” Jahlil said. “Where’s my wife?” Said the man. There was a long silence. Jahlil was bluffing. He had no ammo. He was beaten. One look into this police officer’s eyes and he knew there was only one way out.

A single beam of light shone thru the curtain. The specs of dust in the room danced between the rays, whisked into the air by the pleasant breeze tip toeing thru the screen door. I could feel the warmth on my cheek as I rose from the sheets, thoroughly rested. I briskly got ready, slipping on my tennis shoes, old and worn. Stepping outside, I was greeted by the painfully sweet aroma of sweet pea flowers, entranced by the blissful gleams of sunlight, and spellbound by the familiar screeching of parrots, flocking in clouds of bright vermilion.

As the wind brushed the back of my dress, I turned around to overlook the waves of golden ocean, pouring into the small town I called home. But, my eyes became fixed on the sun. It was so wonderful, so beautiful as it rose out of its slumber in the mountains. I always felt the sun’s warmth on my cloudy white dress, and I loved how it always felt like my father’s hugs.

When the narrator describes the night, another change is exposed. The narrator says, “We noticed smallest things- / Things overlooked before / By this great light upon our Minds.” The people begin to notice important details in their lives, such as the woman’s presence and the passing of limited time, that they have taken for granted and understand the effects her life had on their own lives. The author uses “great light,” to create imagery in order to vividly show how the death illuminates the significance of these less perceived

I fell into the depths of Maya’s beautiful green eyes and not even the currently setting sun could compare to their beauty. She pressed once more against the rusted iron gate that separated us, pushed it closed and once again took away my opportunity of joining my family, and let a pained cry of sadness escape her lips before turning into the shadows and dissolving into the darkness. Then the scene carried on as it had before as if Maya had been only an apparition. The crickets resumed their songs and when the frogs in the nearby creek began the harmony, I knew I was alone. The loneliness crept upon me like the cold of a moonless night. I stood and retraced the steps I had already taken earlier, that then had seemed to be nothing but magical when they led me to my wife, but now as they led me passed the unknown dilapidated shack that served as a safe haven for my wife and I and along the overgrown dirt roads of Eucalyptus, my steps seemed to lead me to my death.

It was the evening of that fateful day. The deep rasping calls of the ravens can be heard as they hovered above the creaking trees. A menacing voice penetrated through the hollowness of the forest. It was close enough to unnerve the young boy. The mist that wouldn't rise lifted itself as he glanced back quickly and hastily began to run out of fear. As he ran, he would stumble and look back in hesitation only to tear his gaze away, scampering onward again. A fiery light flared its path in front of him, calling him forwards. He ran to it, collapsing in front of unfamiliar figures.

One night, in the middle of the summer, Japes woke out of a sound sleep with a startling revelation about a girl he knew when growing up in Vacationland. She embodied the meaning of service through and through despite the fact that she did not work in a hotel. Her demeanor and giving nature were a true giveaway. Japes, not a believer in fantasy, or carrying any strong religious values, experienced a vision that night which he never forgot. His classmate, Janeen, who he knew in high school and had become good friends with, gently waved goodbye to him in his sleep. He had not seen or spoken to Janeen for several years since their lives had taken them in separate directions. Married and starting a new life she and her husband had relocated

Her life is slowly concluding. She holds her only person who ever loved her by his thin hand. Many years passed , and John grew wiser and older. It’s a calm summer evening on the sands of an unknown coast.