Volume 44 ~ 2022
 
                  

Isaac Haack

 
 
 
 
 

The Rocky Road

After “The Rocky Road to Dublin” by the High Kings

 

The Rocky Road to Dublin

A road of brick and stone

Upon it, you may travel

But home you will not go

 

You will follow the path laid

Laid by hands long dead

You may pick up a wet stone

To never return it to the sand

 

After years of tasteful wishing

And days of endless cold

You will die alone

On the rocky road

 

Your life will have devolved

To a wanderer in the dark

You’ve joined the marches of the night

Hunting for your next plight

The Final Breath

 

The light slowly fading 

like the final sunset of life,

A life wasted

wasted on the worries of a mortal existence

 

This man’s loneliness purging his very heart

As he floated slowly losing hope of rescue

 

His family all gone 

Leaving him in the cold vacuum of space

The emptiness could fit all the love in the world

And yet it will have room for more

 

The dreams he had, crushed by the unforgiving foot of reality

His ambitions, heightened by the possibilities of failure

Only to continue to circle the flushing toilet that was his life

 

So he floats

He floats in his infinite yer suffocating tomb

Hoping, dreaming, praying, for one more chance

To change his grave fate

 

And like most of the man’s life

He could not be saved

He had burned his last bridge

His final breath had been stolen

By the unforgiving cold

 

So I warn you

You the student

With your own ambitions

The adult with dreams that they never got to fulfill

Don’t stop, don’t stop

Don’t stop running for your dream

Do not let the actions of others conceal your skill

Their voices drowning yours into the background

NEVER AGAIN

Never again will you be ignored

 

Don’t share the fate of the man

The Beginning of an End

 

“Flying Squirrel, this is Chipmunk do you copy?” Tony quietly called over the radio to his unresponsive partner. Tony was a short man who's slowly balding head was considered his greatest ally. He was a spy so to speak, not for any corporation or government as you might think, he worked for private parties, doing his business in a discreet manner, in and out, that was his style. Always according to plan, this unusual delay was none to his liking. This particular job was one he was reluctant to take. “Flying Squirrel are you in position yet?” Tony repeated in a slightly annoyed tone over the jet-black radios he had purchased because of his last encounter with Him. 

“Tony! Tony! The sidewalks are always cleaner on the east side of Brigh…” The radio cut off in the middle of the sentence, Tony had no need to question what Flying Squirrel was to say, The sidewalks are always cleaner on the east side of Brighton. This was not good, “Dear God, oh dear god,” Tony cried as he doubled over in pain, He is here, Tony thought. 

A bright purple light emerged in front of Tony. A figure bald, with a phoenix tattoo along the back of his neck outstretching its wings to the tips of his ears, its mouth open as if crying for help. As the mysterious figure raised his hand, Tony slowly was lifted from the ground. “The sidewalks, the sidewalks,” Tony cried in pain as if trying to call out to someone. Whoever he was trying to contact would not come to his rescue. 

A loud cracking could be heard and a large thud echoed through the chamber. This was the end of Tony. Now the figure looked skyward, past the roof, above the clouds, and through the sky, until he finally rested his gaze on what he sought. Wait what how is this possible I said in a raspy voice as I was slowly choked, then everything faded to black. 

The phoenix-bearing figure looked at his surroundings. It appeared he was at an old catholic church. He looked upwards, toward the mural that blanketed the vaulted ceiling, depicting the apotheosis of Nojus Mccoy. He turned his attention back to the man dead on the floor. He pitied the man, he needed not to die.

But nonetheless, the man was an obstacle. An obstacle he had let live for far too long, he caused irreparable damage. A bolt of lightning struck, through the beautiful depiction of Mccoy. “Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Heidrich Waldobert himself,” the figure retorted. Waldobert rose. “You didn’t come all this way just to meet little old me?” The Pheonix-clad figure goaded. “You know why I came,” Heidrich said, stepping towards the figure and holding his hand. “You can’t be here, you know this. It's time to say hello to some old friends.” Aben continued, reaching his arm towards the sky his other still outstretched to the man, connecting with his shoulder. The man felt a strange tingling sensation within himself and in a moment he was vaporized by a strike of lightning. Waldobert kept his hand outstretched to the heavens, returning his other to his side. Another strike of lightning later and Waldobert was gone.

The dark black structure loomed over the sea, the barren rock defying the wishes of the water that battered the shore, desperately trying to climb to the structure. The Zronethian it was called, two stories of dark stone with but one window, where its inhabitants could gaze north to the opened sea. There was a doorway of course for which to enter and leave, but no door sealed the room from the world. This was a place of darkness, formed by the sorcerer, Doneton, who built it to hold the most dangerous man alive. 

This is what Waldobert thought as he walked along the grass path that led to The Zronethian from the mainland. He was troubled by the recent encounter he had. Surely the board would believe him, now that he had evidence to support his case. He thought as he approached the open doorway

“ZGD,” He called, his voice resonating through the chamber, lit only by the open window and the doorway, “ZGD,” He repeated, sterner this time. Just these words were enough to purge ZGD of his slumber and rise from his bed. “Good day, Heidrich,” ZGD responded rising from his stone bed “what is it you need so badly, that you needed to come to my immortal tomb and disturb my slumber” “You know why I’m here,” Waldobert retorted, standing in the doorway gazing into the disastrous room. ZGD raised his hands as if looking for a hug, smiling, he said, “I have not the slightest clue as to what you could be referring to.” ZGD said. “You killed that man, why?” Waldobert questioned. ZGD’s brow furrowed. “I’d prefer he lived, to be honest with you, I pity him, he had a family you know, I” ZGD responded. “So why did you kill him,” Waldobert interceded. “He needed to die,” ZGD said, bowing his head in shame. Now Waldobert was beginning to get frustrated. This man is being shameful of an unjust murder his reasoning was that the man needed to die. “You’re scared ZGD, you tread through waters too deep, and now you will pay for it.” Waldobert retorted. ZGD scowled, his attitude changing drastically when hearing these words, “We were brothers once, yet you have not come to meet me since you bound me to these walls.” ZGD spoke, his voice rising. “Enough of this, the board are on their way now, they will see what you have done.” Waldobert interceded before he could get another word in. 

“You cannot hold me here, not forever, the day will come when these walls crumble to the ground and when that day comes, I will have my justice.” Waldobert turned away from the doorway too disturbed to continue this conversation. He took a few steps away from the doorway when he turned he found Doneton. “What have you come here for, Waldobert.” “I came here to make my case to the board,” Waldobert said. “You know you need to warn me when your coming,” Doneton said slowly stepping towards Waldobert threateningly. “Don, what are you doing?” Waldobert said taking a small step backward. Doneton opened his arms, his scowl transformed into a smile. “It has been a long time, old friend,” he said boisterously. Waldobert’s worry was quickly replaced by relief. “What was it twenty years ago?” Waldobert questioned embracing his old friend. “Yes on that train,” he responded. “Good times, good times,” Waldobert responded. Suddenly the sky darkened, a storm was brewing. “What is this, how come I have no control.” Waldobert wondered looking skyward. Doneton stepped in front of Waldobert, also looking skyward, and as if answering his question he said, “The council has arrived.”