Long ago in a faraway land there lived a dark secret. No one but a choice few knew the secret. One of these characters was as dark as the secret itself. He walked only at night and hid in shadows. Watching, just watching. No one knew his name and he never talked. Until one dark evening as he was leaving his alchemist cottage on the border of the town. Someone caught his eye. He strolled over and stared. Nothing more. “You aren’t from around here. You must not know. There’s a secret here. You must leave. Go to your house and never return here- not after dark.”
That child’s name was Henry Gimped. He followed the instructions. He couldn’t help it. Being only 15 he didn’t feel brave enough to stand up to the dark mask of sunken eyes covered by a worn red wizard’s cloak in the early hours of the night.
He walked home to his quiet house far away. He shut his door and let sleep take over him. He vowed to someday return to that place he ran from.
Four years later the beat took over him. The rhythm pounded and coursed through him as he danced at his club. His blonde hair spiked in a black shirt with rolled up sleeves, black pants and red converse. His white tie drifted with the beat.
He stepped out and let the cool breeze take him. Something was bothering him. But what?
Some nights he felt he had lost something important. Something gone from long ago. It was dark eerie nights like this that he would think back and remember that cold drafty evening and the sunken eyes blacker than the night. Eyes that had seen too much; eyes that hid a dark secret. He would remember his vow and promise to someday go back. That night he would.
The wind picked up and carried him toward the outskirts of town and instead of turning around as he had done so many times before, he continued pressing on. Across the land he journeyed to a small town he had encountered exactly four years ago right down to the second. He searched for that lost thing. That something gone was about to be found.
He stood at the border of the town five minutes passed evening. “So you have returned.” said a wispy voice that scratched with age. The man’s cloak blew in the breeze more tattered and worn than the previous time. “I told you to leave. There is a secret here. You must not know. You came back. Four years ago today. I have been waiting for you.”
Henry listened closely absorbing every word and stared into the deep eyes as the alchemist had done four years ago, “What is it? What is the secret?”
“I knew you were going to ask that. Just watch.” The ancient wizard pointed his bony finger towards the grave yard. Henry followed with his eyes.
An image appeared. A figure floated towards them draped in dark robes. The night air shivered stiff. Henrys heart raced. Thump Thump against his chest. A hand stroked his cheek and snapped away quickly. They circled forming a rhythm.
A beat picked up. The figures circled and floated in and out. Arms waved and a chanting picked up. “Ranah omla Snad, Jibble dribble drad, Ranah omla Snad, Jibble dribble drad.” the chant got faster and faster then everything disappeared with a small wisp of wind.
“Watch,” said a snake like voice, “yes just watch.”
The plants and weeds took up the cry, “Watch, Just watch.” the H’s prolonged in Henry’s ears. Another beat picked up and the plants strummed to the rhythm. “Watch, Just watch.” the plants hissed and sang.
Henry saw everything with a quizzical look on his face. The beat died down and started again. Over and over. “Watch, just watch,” the weeds and plants wrapped around his shoes. He couldn’t move. The chanting stopped and he was paralyzed. The vines crawled up his body. All he could do was watch unblinkingly. “I told you not to return. Hoped you’d disappoint me and not come back.” The alchemist whispered raspy in his ear, “Hey, I told you so.”
Henrys heart beat faster and faster. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. The vines twisted and wrapped holding him hostage. One thought came to his mind. “Why? Why can’t I disappoint?”
“Long ago on this night one thousand years ago….” the wizard’s voice trailed off and became images of the long lost past.
The town bustled with people. Young, old, the sick, the lively. Everyone walking cheerfully in the warm summer breeze. Then one stood out. Dressed in a new red cloak, his dark black eyes concealed by the hood. Everything froze as he strolled the streets. He entered the castle and walked intimidatingly down the halls and corridors as if looking for something. He entered into a long room filled with colorful windows. At the end of the room sat a chubby man with a long beard and dressed in black robes. A top his head sat a gleaming silver crown.
“I have come for you.” said the cloaked alchemist in a mysterious voice.
Before the king could say a word he fell lifeless to the floor.
The cloaked man strode over to the throne, and raised his arms above his head reveling his bony scrawny arms and fingers, "Mortuus surge," Dead arise.
Through the streets the dead did float. Chaos struck a smile on the cloaked alchemist’s face.
The dead took the houses and everything inside. The day went dark and cold. Snow drifted down and covered the ghost town in a blanket of white. The houses tumbled and the mortals screamed. Sounds of horror and fear rang through the air. The plants and weeds came to life as the moon rose and consumed everything.
The mortals ran but none escaped. The town became as dark as the sea. The mortals turned and became immortal ghosts. The town was fraught with despair and turmoil. The kingly ghost sat in the dungeons of the broken castle and wondered, “Why? Why did I have to disappoint?”
The buildings broke and fell and the vines tangled around their bricks. The cloaked man stood watching and smiling. His cloak blowing in the cold night wind.
The sun rose and everything turned back. The ghosts to their graves the weeds and plants to the ground. The people took to the streets and reformed into their mortal form. The buildings stacked their bricks and retook their shape. Everything turned to normal as the sun grew hot.
The images faded and Henry felt the warm sun on his face. The weeds and vines disappeared into the ground and the town reconstructed itself. “Farwell and good luck.” Said the alchemist as he faded like a shadow. Henry looked around. Nothing was wrong. People waved to him from the streets.
He ran. He ran home just as he had done four years and 12 hours ago.
That night he lay in his bed wondering if it had only been a dream. Suddenly he stood up not knowing why. He walked outside and raised his hands above his head and lifted his face to the moon. He closed his black eyes and let his new red cloak swallow him and conceal his dark eyes that knew too much. He wandered back to his town. His new home.
He stepped over the boundary of the town and watched the town transform. He stood atop the hill as the image had done and watched anxiously awaiting a thousand years of his rein. Only walking at night and never speaking except to the one future ruler, but that wasn’t for another nine hundred and ninety six years.
"Mortuus surge," Dead arise.
