Sisyphyra

He journeyed through the land, keeping track of the days spent. He didn't know the route but trod on the path with his instinct. Although he sensed a familiarity with the plains and mount surrounding him. As if he had once walked the path before. After walking for a very long time, he came by the path that led to a small village. This village was hidden behind thick and dense greenery comprising of wild bushes and trees. Seeing the remote setting of the small houses with tree houses hanging above them, brought back a memory. He had been here before. The small houses were made from bamboo and dried palm fronds, the thatched roof was woven from stacks of dried up hays, fallen palm leaves, and tall stalks of dead brown grasses. He remembered how they had dug small holes into a gigantic tree of strong roots and great height. His people had carved out the inside in any way that suits them. His friends had stayed in these treehouses throughout their lives.&

The moon changed to orange and hid among the cloud, he adjusted his sister's body on his back. The more steps he took, the heavier she became. As the pains on his back and arms proved unbearable,  he decided to discard her body secretly in a nearby bush. He made a prayer in second bracing himself, he saw a path in the bush and continued.Along the path he trudged, there were hundreds of huge bare shadowed trees deprived of leaves and fruits. The trees could be assumed dead but the black hard trunks puttered with cracks that released some brown slimy substance. He walked through and came across a stream, it extended further into the land to its opposite side like a delta. The land had mountains of its own, it was vast and dense. Suddenly, a herd of catamount strode towards the creek. Their heads were round and their bodies were covered in tiny black spots leaving the tops of their ears, long tails, and

The intricate patterns of ice hovered weightlessly dancing in the air like a dry feather. Each white flake glittered in the red moonlight, it drifted down to his left cheek. He stood up and observed his surroundings. He noticed a thin blanket of snow on the trees and ground as clumps of wet flakes continued to drift down endlessly. The icicles on a tree dropped with a loud smash, like glass cracking and shattering raising his adrenaline level with the false alarm. He admitted that he was scared, jumpy probably because he just had a dream but when he started to feel too much cold around him he glanced down at his clothes. He realized otherwise when he noticed the cut patterns on his cloth at the front and the faint red scratches on his chest affirmed his fears. It wasn't a dream.   I'm safe. He thought and he puffed out in relief. He felt faint a

The site before him came like a de ja vu. An occurrence of his very existence, he could not put a name to it. But, seeing all the tents in the camp destroyed, people fighting he knew that a war had begun already. People in black garb carried stone axes, some that are rougly dressed had farming tools as weapon. He wondered what stance they had against the grandmaster soldiers.Aren't you in the same boat as them? The voice said.Clouds of feathered arrows shoot through the air bringing many to their death. Javelins whistled past and pinned a soldier to a chariot through his head, his brain split into a clean cut two. A lifeless man in a black religious habit was dragged on the ground by a black horse through the field. His garb getting torn along the way with a missing limb already decapacited ready to fall off. Some bodies lay hooked on the pointed wooden bulwark their blood spilled out, running in lines into a blood puddle on the ground. The cries of men and screams of in

"Many people wondered why scary things happen when it's dark, especially when there is an unexplainable blackout. Why do thieves' devices plan and think that it's best carried out at night? Why do most people die at night? I have spent the night in a hospital when most of the patients died before daybreak. I have also gone to numerous fetish festivals that perform sacrifices. Why perform this sacrifice at night? One thing is for certain. The dark is one symbolic entity where bad, strange, and dangerous things happen. Though some love the night because they could see the moon in its full glory-"  Gbam! Sholay fidgeted as the chief editor slammed the manuscript on the table. He is known for this physical demonstration of vexation particularly when things don't go his way. He doesn't care about the process or the research one has gone through but the finished product.