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    Stefan
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Borderline - Prologue. Prologue

Cool waves crashed over his head as he dived into the river. He opened his eyes under water and thought about the Misty Rose, the miraculous herb he nearly died trying to obtain. It was good to have washed away the dirt and sweat of his long journey. His relief though was only momentary - too strong were the fears that urged him home. The waves of the Euphrates spat him to the shore, where he knew his clothes lay safe along with his most important possession: the Misty Rose, a simple herb though important enough to save a life.

No human being had crossed his path in the deserted loneliness that bordered his home land. Naked and with dripping hair, he approached the place where he'd shed his clothes, dropping them with the bundle holding the herb. The clothes were still there, as well the small, grey bag, but his instincts flashed a warning. He stood petrified as water ran from his hair into his eyes. He blinked away the sting from the water and there lay an empty snake's skin , dry and torn.

Upon the bag slithered a fat, brown snake covered with a brilliant yellow pattern, shining in the sun; blood-red eyes watching him. Her split tongue slid over the Misty Rose, then her mouth opened and she started to swallow the hard-fought for herb.

His shock dissolved and with a despairing cry he jumped upon the creature, ready to kill her if need be to stop her from consuming the plant or . . . ready to be killed himself if that was the will of the gods. Without the herb his long journey would have been in vain. As he wrestled with the serpent, it grew under his hands, then snapped for his fingers, sinking her powerful and sharp, poisoned teeth deeply into his palm. Yet, he didn't loose grip of the herb. The snake again tried to swallow the herb as his own body shuddered in spasm. The poison had reached his blood system, his heart pumped it through his body yet his grip remained fierce on the Misty Rose. There was a hollow, crashing sound as the snake's mouth clapped shut with only part of its prize -- a small part of the Misty Rose lay in his hand. Quickly he squeezed it into his fist and stared at the creature as it continued to grow. Her red eyes gleamed like bloody garnets and her tiny nostrils swelled as she started to hiss.

"Nobody sets his foot on my land, human ruler," she said. "You have walked my land when I do not know your name. But..." she said as she moved her mighty body over the sand and bare stones dangerously near him again, her look full of deceit, "I need to thank you for now I am the Queen over all my race. I can change my skin and grow. I am immortal."

The air was filled with a silent blow. A blow without echo. A golden abyss opened in the snake's eyes; deep and endless. He feared the light shining from her fathomless orbs would burn him and a shudder ran through his body. Ishtar was here, the god of love and fertility, occupying the snake's body. "You can not win," the divine voice drowned in his ears. "I will follow you wherever you go."

The hiss grew to a storm in his ears. Full of panic he took his clothes and bag and ran upstream, fist clenching the remaining portion of herb as Ishtar's strange, hissing laughter filled his head. "Go, human king," it hissed. "But know your journey was in vain."

Copyright © 2011 Stefan; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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