“Through blood and bones, our people have traveled, through blood and bones our people have suffered. To one day find the land of promise, the land of prosperity where we may rebuild our race. To where we may bury the bones of our ancestors and forgive the blood of their murderers. Through blood and bones we survived this genocide. Through blood and bones we claim our name. The Remnants.”
Zihari sat alone inside the cold dark cell as the minutes dragged by. Black water dripped from the ceiling and he shifted positions as the large spikes protruding from his back rubbed against the hard walls. His long dreadlocks soaked by the black water and his torn pants providing little warmth to his lower body. And to make matters worse he couldn’t escape the constant burning of the freshly made jagged scar on the right side of his face. The constant reminder of his failure and a constant reminder of his father’s contempt for him.
“Through blood and bones we claim our name,” mumbled Zihari to himself.
“That’s a nice poem,” came a girl’s voice from outside his cell. “Where did you hear it from?”
Zihari looked up to see She’nala standing in front of the iron bars looking in at him. Her dark skin illuminated in the light outside of the cell. Her dark golden eyes staring into his light green ones. Her pointed ears sticking out from the side of her head and her long hair braided into a ponytail. “I wrote it.”
“Well it’s beautiful,” she said, hoping that he would look her in the eyes longer than a quick instant.
“Please go,” said Zihari as he closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I have nothing to say, if you came to get answers, then you’re in for a boring visit.”
“Zihari…why did you attack the tribe leader. Brother, you know that it was wrong.”
Zihari then leapt to his feet and glared at her. Rage burning wildly in his eyes. “Do not call me brother. I resent that name.” He then turned his back to her. “I do not accept your customs, nor do I have any wish to be a part of this tribe.”
“B-…Zihari, please you don’t mean that,” she said as she pressed her face to the bars.
Zihari then turned and walked towards her. He placed his head against the bars as well and gazed into her eyes. “I mean every word of it. Names have no meaning to our people, we refer to everyone as brother and sister, equals. We do not reproduce because we fear of change. So instead we grow old, and when we die we burn, and are reborn from the ashes, and our lives start anew once again.” He then squeezed the bars tighter as he pressed his head harder against them. “I am different. My parents went outside the tribe’s beliefs and mated. I am the first Dredox to be born from a union in over two centuries. I am strong. I know what needs to be done to make our people strong once again.
“And what is that,” She’nala asked as he too began to lean in as close as she could.
Zihari pushed himself away from the bars and paced the cell. “Our people have forgotten what it means to be a Remnant. We are the last of our kind. The last of our people from the old world. Before the magic users, before the demons, before the humans. There were only us. A powerful race. Then the Purge happened and everything changed. Our people were reduced to a meager number, and now we dwell in this underground city like insignificant ants! We have forgotten our bloodline. We have forgotten heritage. We were once a proud warrior race, peace always a priority, but war was a necessity. Now we have become weak. Like the humans, and every other race out there.” Zihari then turned to face her once again and approached her. “What our people need is a wakeup call. What they need is newfound strength. And I’m going to give it to them.”
- Title: Through Blood and Bones
- Artist: GrievingLion93
Small excerpt from my book that shows one of the characters. He's one of my favorites, so i uploaded this exerpt to see if anyone else likes him, and if anyone would have any advice if i need to make any tweaks.
Criticsim is welcomed and appreciated.
- Date: 04/09/2011
- Tags: fiction fantasy monologue
No comments available ...