December 15By Joseph F.Excerpt From The Diary of Sheilan Rigeroth Graceheart- Princess, Knight of The Kingdom of Everlasting Graces’ Military
Due to these pages being the only companion that cannot judge me, I shall detail my brain swarming paranoias here. It feels as though there is a subtle rumbling underfoot of trouble to come. Small things that add to an ever growing tension. The events that I’ve witnessed, meaningless alone and terrifying when together. It been a week since the ironic death of Fear Leighis, Self Proclaimed Lord of the Necromancers. My older brother, Sir Elilkr, was the to slay him within the villain's castle walls while the rest of the military and I fought the unholy, rotting carcasses that Leighis formed to be his horde. Leighis was a thorn in every surrounding kingdom’s side, making the undead attack small villages rarely leaving survivors. He was difficult to find until his big plans and bigger ego got the best of him. Before the castle Leighis sent out his gluttonous flesh starved army from a remote area and then making a get away. After months of this the raids subsided for two days. An eerie quietness that was almost as blood curdling as when the hordes were active. Faint whispers and rumors spread in those two days. There was talk of a gathering of necromancers, a grand plot that was in motion to overthrow the very way of the current world. Low and behold, disrupting the very soil, the tower formed from broken bones and rotten flesh erupted from the ground. Growing higher with every passing second the tower touched the very heavens before halting. Exploding from the ground many species had their graves disturbed. Elves with now stumped decaying ears rattled off in broken elvish tongue. The very pride of the Goblins’ were defiled as their great tusks were now covered in wriggling maggots who hadn’t had their fill on the gums and were getting to work on the nose. The boasted ever present peace of the woodlands was destroyed as the grass eaters were reborn as carnivores and the nymphs polluted the rivers they onced loved with the blood of the friends they once knew. The newly made society of necromancers bent the trajectory of everyone’s warpath directly at themselves. After 14 days of long battle, as we threaded through hordes of rotting bodies and flesh munching fiends we reached the grand tower built on the resources of long dead family, friends and enemies. My brother ventured in alongside a large group of a 100. Though no one could see inside the tower, it was clear enough that it was dangerous from the screams that echoed from within. But their pain was not for naught as my brother returned without an arm but with the head of Fear. The weeks following were filled with tremendous ceremony and righteous execution. Yet my brother remained absent from most of them for reasons unknown. I brushed it off as mourning for his comrades as well as his lost ligament. On the now rare occasion that he actually leave his room I would observe him. His eyes carried bags underneath as though it were the help and dark shadows bordered his sockets. His spine was no crooked as if when born his given name was Igor. He spoke in dry mumbles of destiny and how he was going to “do the job right”. For those weeks I didn’t understand why he was acting in such a way. That was until I explored the dark cave known as my brother’s room. Though I have told no one of my discovery I presume it safe to tell these pages. In my brother’s room laid forbidden books of necromancy and end times. Littered within each of the many books I found were notes left by previous owners. I presumed my brother looted the tower as some of the notes were written by Fear. I would tell of its contents but I sensed an entrancing evil among the first page. The farthest I got into it was something about “instructions for the fall of man, the rise of a true lord, and the guide for a corpse ridden paradise before I slammed the book shut in an un-understandable fear that grasped my very soul. I was unable to look into the abyss for the fear it would look back. And though I am very fearful of my brother’s activities I have told no one as to not cause a panic. But I should tell soon. I feel a faint rumbling in the grounds below, dead strays have been sighted walking again, and I’m terrified of the maybe truth that my brother saw the eyes of the abyss. Joe F. is a sophomore at FHS. He is a self-described "lover of comics and competent writer." He enjoys creating comic books in his free time. Comics and candy are his forte.
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Epiphany Literary Magazine is a safe space for students at Franklin High School to share their creativity. Archives '16-'20
June 2020
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