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G l i m m e r
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The soft heads of wheat stalks brushed the bare skin of their arms as they walked. A chorus of crickets voiced their displeasure with each crunching step. The eerie glow of the full moon guided the pair onwards, deeper into the sea of dark blue grass. Cutting through the fields was the fastest way to get to town.
"Hurry up, y'slowpoke."G l i m m e r
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The soft heads of wheat stalks brushed the bare skin of their arms as they walked. A chorus of crickets voiced their displeasure with each crunching step. The eerie glow of the full moon guided the pair onwards, deeper into the sea of dark blue grass. Cutting through the fields was the fastest way to get to town.
"Can't see where th'feck I'm goin'. What if I step on a mouse or somethin'?"
"Sure it wouldn't mind. C'mon."
They whispered. Home was far behind them, but they couldn't risk waking those who slept inside. Vytas had made a habit of slipping out of the house and venturing into the darkness. He did so nearly every night. His brother, however, did not.
"'Cause it's fun, trust me."
The older brother sighed. "A'ight, sure."
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It took three-quarters of an hour to reach the small tavern. A soft orange glow emanated from its windows and faint cheering could be heard within, though at first glance it appeared empty. The youngest Harvastar flashed a grin to his uneasy brother, a glint of mischief in his pale green eyes.
"Gotta bad feelin' 'bout this."
"Don't be a chicken, Fred."
"I ain't. I just - "
With a flap of his elbows and a mocking cluck, Vytas strut forth into the tavern. Reluctantly, Fredric followed.
Once inside, it became clear the voices were coming from below the floorboards. Following the noise, they descended a narrow staircase, the ruckus becoming louder with every creaking step. The dim, musty room at the bottom was full to capacity. Its walls of mossy stone were lined with barrels of ale and its floor was packed earth. In the center of the space, a large circle had been etched into the ground. Within the makeshift ring, two men, faces bloodied and drenched in sweat, were engaged in a tense boxing match. Drunken spectators taunted one another with loud obscenities, getting rowdier and rowdier as the fight progressed.
"Th'void's goin' on here?"Once inside, it became clear the voices were coming from below the floorboards. Following the noise, they descended a narrow staircase, the ruckus becoming louder with every creaking step. The dim, musty room at the bottom was full to capacity. Its walls of mossy stone were lined with barrels of ale and its floor was packed earth. In the center of the space, a large circle had been etched into the ground. Within the makeshift ring, two men, faces bloodied and drenched in sweat, were engaged in a tense boxing match. Drunken spectators taunted one another with loud obscenities, getting rowdier and rowdier as the fight progressed.
"Fight night, that's what."
A roar erupted from the crowd as one of the fighters fell to the ground. Vytas pushed through the wall of people, followed closely by his brother, planting himself on the edge of the ring.
"Fifty regals to our winner, here!" announced a man. "Who's next, then?"
"I am!"
"Woah, Vy. What're doin'?"
"Gettin' us some money, y'goof."
With that, Vytas stepped over the line on the ground. An opponent came forth with a booming laugh. The black-haired, blue-eyed man towered half a foot over the young Harvastar.
"Sure y'wanna do this, boy?"
"'Course I do."
"You're an idiot, Vy. Y'know that?"
The announcer stepped out of the ring, leaving Vytas at the mercy of his adversary. The bout was over as quickly as it had begun. The punch came at him so quickly, he had no time to react. He opened his eyes to find himself on the ground, not knowing how he had gotten there. The taste of metal filled his mouth.
"Vy? D'you hear me? Vytas!"
His brother's voice was a distant echo. He tried to find him, but the room was spinning and everything was a blur. The big man's laugh boomed once again as he sent a hard kick into the defenseless boy. The seventeen-year-old coughed, gasping for breath as the wind was knocked out of his lungs.
"Ey! Get offa him y'fat prick!"
There was a struggle.
He blinked.
There was a fight.
He blinked.
There was a glimmer.
He blinked.
A glimmer.
He felt himself scream as Fredric fell. In a dazed fury, he stumbled to his feet and threw himself onto the assailant. He did not feel his fist repeatedly slam into the man's face, nor did he feel himself be dragged away from the bloodied brute. There was only numbness.
He frantically crawled to his brother's side. He shook him, wailing as he called his name over and over again, but to no avail. The life had seeped out of the wound in his chest, absorbed by the dirt on which his body rested.
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The soft heads of wheat stalks brushed the bare skin of his arms as he walked.
View attachment 141906
He blinked.
There was a fight.
He blinked.
There was a glimmer.
He blinked.
A glimmer.
He felt himself scream as Fredric fell. In a dazed fury, he stumbled to his feet and threw himself onto the assailant. He did not feel his fist repeatedly slam into the man's face, nor did he feel himself be dragged away from the bloodied brute. There was only numbness.
He frantically crawled to his brother's side. He shook him, wailing as he called his name over and over again, but to no avail. The life had seeped out of the wound in his chest, absorbed by the dirt on which his body rested.
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The soft heads of wheat stalks brushed the bare skin of his arms as he walked.
View attachment 141906
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