Little while back Smigs said writing counted too. For fun, every once in a while, I'm going to come in here, and spin up little stories on the spot. Here I go then. For fun I'm going to see if I can cram them into one and only one little post. The wheels of the cart squeaked as it traveled along the old path, bouncing and shaking as it went. Far ahead, in the distance, a crowd of people traveled ahead. A young man tugged along on the small cart, and beside him, a withered old man stepped along the path with careful strides. The young man looked over to his companion. "You know you could always sit in the cart. We'll lose them if we keep up like this." The old man shook his head, tugging on his grey beard. "Nonesense! They travel together because of fear. There is nothing to worry about out here." "There's nothing back home. It's all burnt." "That's what they're afraid of lad. But this journey has been taken more than once. None have ever come to harm on these roads." "What'ya mean?" The old man chuckled. "You'll see, when we get there." ------------------------------------------------------- By the time the old man grew weary of stepping across the jagged path and resigned himself to the cart, the sky had clouded over, and the people far ahead of them were long gone. The sun was going down, and soon it would be time to stop. But, not quite yet. The old man's eyes passed over the stone cliffs, of an all too familiar sight. He chuckled, getting the attention of the young man. "Remember when I told you that you'd see when we arrived? Take a look ahead of us boy." The young man looked onwards, and in the fading light, saw the landscape rear up in solid mountains of stone, blocking the path. Almost, the entire path. All except for a sliver, shining thin rays of light through it as the sun went down. There was a clap of thunder that rang out, and suddenly, the rain finally arrived. The cart came to a stop. Today was done with. From under the leaking roof of the old cart, the young man sat in his corner, as the old man rested. "Hey. What's out there, ahead of us?" The old man stirred. Groggy in his sleep, but still held a hint of mischief in his voice. "Who can say? Some call it magic. Others think they're the souls of the lost. I think, the legend behind it is true. But that's for tomorrow lad." The old man resigned himself to sleep, and eventually, so did the young man. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Morning came swiftly, marking the passage of the thunderstorms above, but not the rain. The young man was the first to awaken, and in the early morning light, as he rubbed his eyes and stretched, ready to continue the journey, his eyes found something, sitting in front of the cart. Not something, but someone. Two, human sized statues stood, facing the cart. Their arms were held open, in a peaceful manner, and as he looked closer, warm smiles were chizzled onto their features. Regardless of their apparent fondness displayed, shivers ran up the young man's spine as he recalled last night. He leaned over, shaking the old man, and to his surprise, he roused, like an energetic child, a spark in his eyes as he rose from his slumber. "They're here, aren't they!?" The old man looked past the young man, to the two statues sitting in front of the cart, and, in a hurried response, threw his blankets off of him, and slid out of the cart. He moved faster than the young man had ever seen him go, as he hurried out to the statues. He watched the entire spectacle from the cart, as the old man excitedly buzzed around the statues. "I haven't seen you two in so long! Jeffery! Atheta! You haven't changed a bit!" The statues did not move, and stayed stone still, as the old man patted them on the shoulders. "It's good to see you again my friends! Come with me again! One last trip!" The old man turned around, and walked back to the cart, a huge smile plastered over his withered face. He stopped beside the handles. "Come on then lad! We haven't got all day!" The young man clambered from out of the cart, but stayed silent, trying to make sense of the whole episode. As he grabbed the handles and started trudging along, he caught a better look at the statues. They were both carved from some ornate stone, into the shape of warriors. Clearly, both the man and the woman, were both ancient fighters of some kind, clad in gear from ages past, but both managed to retain an air of elegance and civility. He trudged further along past them, headed towards the sliver separating the massive stone wall ahead of them, as the old man practically skipped alongside the cart, whistling a tune. -------------------------------------------------------------------- And, finally, against the slight patter of rain, the two came to the mouth of the sliver, now standing tall before them, as monolithic as the wall itself. And as the young man gazed onwards, at the smooth, carved walls, he saw statues. Hundreds of them, sitting on pedestals from on high, warriors and people of every kind, carved to exact proportions, all looking downwards. The young man stared in awe, while the old man simply wandered forwards with ease. "What is this place?" The old man smiled. "Something.....old. Something special. The old legends say, that a family, on pilgrimage to safer lands, passed across this wall. All but the man returned, alone and broken, without his family. And then, he started digging, and carving. Spent the rest of his life here, carving this passage through, and built a statue for every step of the way, to watch over travelers, so that the fate that befell his family, never happened to anyone else again." The young man toyed with the idea in his head. Working all one's life to carve a path straight through the rock? And the statues? What were they? Surely the two at the front were placed there, in the night. But then, the old man knew them, or seemed to. "You knew those two statues?" "Of course I do! When I was just a little boy, we came through here, and I was scared. One morning, I woke up before my parents did, and there was this big strong man standing guard. I called him Jeffery. And Atheta, she came later, the sneaky thing." The spark that was evident in the way the old man spoke, the way his eyes seemed so full of life, told the story. He wasn't lying. "I could never forget those two. And it seems, they didn't forget me either." --------------------------------------- All through the day, they traveled through the pass. But the old man, grew weary much earlier in the day, and sat down in the cart as the young man trudged along the path, admiring the walls and statues as he pressed forward. Twice, the old man tried to walk once more, and twice, he ended up back in the cart. The rest of the day was quiet and uneventful, and as night rolled in, the young man pulled the cart off to the side, and they set up for the night. One lone candle burned as the young man scarfed down some old bread, as the old man sat in his corner. He hadn't touched anything yet. "You don't want to eat anything?" "No, I'm afraid my appetite is not important to me tonight, it seems." The young man finished his meal, and as he brought blankets over himself and the old man made himself comfy, he blew out the candle, leaving them in the dark. The old man hummed a tune, and the young man did not interrupt, listening to it, and realizing that it was an old child's song. After finishing it, he spoke quietly. "I'm glad I saw them again, Jeffery and Atheta. What I must look to them now....." He took a deep breath. "Don't be afraid of them, lad. I saw the way you looked at them earlier. They won't hurt you. Never hurt." "How do they move like that?" "It isn't important lad. All you need to care about, is that you have someone by your side." "What do you mean?" The old man took another slow breath. "It doesn't matter. Goodnight lad. We'll be nearly halfway through here by tomorrow." The young man stayed silent, and let sleep overtake him. ---------------------------------------------- Morning greeted the cart and it's occupants with the soft patter of rainfall, and, once again, the young man was the first to rouse. But this time, his eyes traveled forward instinctively, and were met by the forms of two statues, yet again. The young man clambered out of the cart, and strode over to them, matter of factly, when everything kicked in. He looked at their forms, and realized, that they weren't as they were in the previous morning. In fact, they were a far cry from it. The large man had placed a balled up fist across his chest, in the form of some salute, and the features across his stone face were so perfectly defined, like a man holding back tears. And when he looked over to the woman, so young and agile in appearance, her head was bowed low, her hands crossed at her waist. Her face, so young, yet so.......sad. And then it clicked. The young man scrambled back to the cart, and pulled the blankets off the old man, his fears rising as he slid the fabric down, to reveal the old man, sitting as he was last night, still as stone. No breath escaped him. Something welled up inside the young man, as he stared at the lifeless form before him. He turned back to the statues, anger rising in his veins. "YOU DID THIS!" There was a hopeless hollowness to his words as he cried out in anguish, looking for something to explain, something to blame. But there was no response, no answer, from anything.