The Black Knight

Firelight played cat and mouse with the shadows. Light and dark danced on the planes of the weather-worn, scarred face of the old man who sat in the tavern, where he had sat every night for the past eleven years. Age and the stresses of everyday life told their story in his every careful movement.

"He comes out of the dark night like a ghost, on his black horse. Behind him, he leaves death and pain. I've seen him, but I made sure to remain in front of him," he began, telling the same tale he had told for the past five years. "Don't look in his eyes, for it is then that he can get the demons to possess you and turn you to their awful deeds."

His audience varied, from the very young to the very old. Even those who had heard the story before paused in their conversations to hear it again. The Black Knight was a legend in this northern country, terrorizing villages and leaving death as he passed. No longer was night safe for anyone, be it man or beast. No one had actually seen the Black Knight, save the old man, for any who had were long dead and gone. His very name bore ill will and children were threatened with it. He was a legend. He was…

"The Black Knight," the old man continued his tale. They say he came from the Northern artics, for he is as merciless as the cold North Wind. Those who beg for mercy waste their time, for it falls on an icy heart and deaf ears. It is far better to run as fast as you can as far as you can. A life can not be replaced." He paused as a young girl filled his mug with good strong ale to soothe his parched throat.

"Where is he?" A voice called from the back of the tavern and the old man strained his eyes to try to recognize the cloaked figure. "Where is he rumored to be now?"

The old man settled back in his chair. "No one knows. Just last week Tabena was attacked. 20 dead, village is no more than ashes," he answered. "He could be anywhere, his black heart laughing at the destruction had had caused."

"Jorge, that is enough. We have young ears listening. The poor things will have nightmares if you keep this up," the tavern keeper's wife came out of the kitchen, giving him a steaming bowl of stew. If you have to talk, tell a story of happiness."

He nodded meekly," Yes, Shana." As he began to talk about the upcoming spring festivals, and those he had attended in the past, no one saw the cloaked figure leave, pausing only to drop a few coins on his table to pay for the warm meal.


Okay, don't quite know where this one is going, but it was a good dream and hopefully I'll be able to turn it into a story...let me know what you think so far, even though this was a short beginning

Lunisa K. Moon