The prophecy is all Alyx has ever heard about. It consumed every aspect of his life. It’s been this way for as long as Alyx can remember. He’s never known a life without constant talk of the Oni.
His mother is currently the protector of the Oni, but he is turning twenty-seven next week, and when he does, the Oni will become his responsibility.
The Oni was trapped inside a small piece of a gemstone called Draconite, which was fashioned into a necklace, but Alyx figured out he could wrap the chain around his wrist a few times and make it a bracelet. The gemstone has to be worn at all times to ensure that the Oni never has a chance to escape.
Alyx often thought about places he could hide the stone, forget about its existence. No one would find it, and he wouldn’t remember. His mother always seemed to guess his plans and stop them.
“Right, time to go over the history of Ankoku!” Alyx’s father would always do this ‘history’ lesson with him. He had learned about it from his father-in-law, who was thrilled to teach someone new about the tale. A wave of revolution crashed over Alyx’s body, willing to curl into a ball and evaporate at his father’s excitement. His excitement in a fairy tale.
The drawl of his father’s voice washes over him as the words roll over his skin like water does on a ducks feathers. Alyx’s mind wanders elsewhere, to the noises outside of people hurrying to work, and driver’s road rage possesses them to hurl verbal abuse at one another. His heart is aching for the chance to participate in the morning abusive marathon, willing to give his soul away for a taste of the hell that tempts the Gods of War.
A tingling sensation spreads down from his ears through his throat as his eardrums rattle inside his skull, his eyes focusing on his father’s hand firmly pressed down on the bard hardback that lies on the table.
“Welcome back. Did I disturb you, my highness?”
His father’s voice oozes venom with each slow and calculated syllable. Alyx’s body swells, a fire fueled by unbridled rage burns inside him, ready to flashover over. A voice inside him screams at him to breathe control the fire, but it’s too late. This has gone on for long enough.
Alyx now sits outside his body. The words and actions spilling out of his body aren’t his; they belong to the fire that now possesses his body. Venom and carnage encapsulate every word, action and feature of him. However awful the words may be, they speak his truth.
It’s a useless pretty gemstone.
Fairy tales are stories made to scare kids; not living things.
Why is it his job? He didn’t ask for it.
Why not let the old bitch out?
What if he says no? They can’t force him.
And so on.
It feels like hours have passed, outside his body is a calm, soothing wave while his body attacks. His soul is sucked back as the fire drowns inside him, just in time to deal with the consequences. Fatigue sets in his muscles, tensing his muscles in preparation for the oncoming onslaught is impossible. His father’s wrath will hit him; his body limp and defenceless.
What feels like an hour passes, his father has said nothing, a mere minute has passed. His father’s eyes reflect back at him, a pool of sorrow and pain filling inside. The tension in his muscles melt away to nothing, and his arms wrapped around his son. Alyx’s body fills with warmth and knowledge. Like some form of diffusion, his father’s thoughts and emotions pass on to him.
I’m so sorry.
Write about a character who’s had their future foretold from birth — but isn’t sure if they believe it.
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