The Swords of the Ancients

Another Trifecta Writing Challenge entry for you today. Here’s “The Crack.”

“I think I may be going mad,” Kerry muttered as he looked at his surroundings. The sun beat down upon the fields, black grass shimmering in the light. It stretched on into hills and valleys without a single variation in shade. Reality was breaking around him, and the source, the crack was nearby, but that was the only thing that was certain anymore. It was coming for him. He had seen things since his first encounter with the rift, since the day he’d met Alicia, though even now he couldn’t say if that had been ten years or ten days ago. This field before him might only be an illusion. Regardless, the crack was coming closer. There was only one way for him to end it.

“But if I am, I can think of worse ways for it to go.” He saw her then, or her shape, white flitting across the black, and he drew a dagger from his belt. She moved toward him, never touching the grass, never noticing the narrow band of chaos that seemed to be carved across the landscape by her passage. Finally reaching him, she stopped.

“Hello, Kerry.” Her voice a jumble of voices clamoring at once.

“Hello, Alicia.”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Kerry’s face was grim. “I’ve been looking for you. I hoped I’d find you sooner.”

Alicia’s shape twitched as if it had just noticed the blade he held. “Is that what I think it is?” the multitude asked.

“Let’s find out.”

He stepped behind her, arms around her in a final embrace as he guided her hands upward and the knife point found her neck.

The crack that had trailed behind her yawned wide. Kerry clutched Alicia’s limp body to him and let the chaos swallow them both. All that remained was black.