Victor Jericho Arkwright

[VICTOR JERICHO ARKWRIGHT]

- - - - - - bury all your secrets in my skin - - - - - -
COME AWAY WITH INNOCENCE
- - - - - - and leave me with my sins - - - - - -

ARKWRIGHT, VICTOR JERICHO



ambitious, attentive, brave, cautious, dauntless, fierce, loyal, mature, protective, independent, intelligent
gargoyle (former human) , 77 (immortal) , male , guardian (former knight) , reena

- - - - - the air around me still feels like a cage - - - - -
AND LOVE IS JUST A CAMOUFLAGE
- - - - - - for what resembles rage again - - - - - -

I hadn’t realized how foolhardy my actions really were until it was too late. I didn’t expect my steadfast ways to spell trouble not only for myself, but my loved ones as well. My father told me as a boy that we all learn from our mistakes. He didn’t mention, however, that some mistakes would last a lifetime.


My name is Victor. I was born in a thatch hut near a rich forest where I spent a lot of my time as a child. My parents struggled to make a living, and though we were dirt poor, I loved my ever changing life nonetheless. My father was a farmer aspiring to become an acclaimed blacksmith. During supper he would tell me that someday he would be festooning the armory of kings with his metalwork. I believed him. My mother was more down to earth as she tended to the garden and smaller livestock of our farm. She told me to follow my dreams, but to stay true to my heart. Back then I thought that following my dreams was staying true to my heart.


I wanted to become a knight. I would have a stick in hand and run around our multiple acres smacking at the chickens pretending they were dragons or other beasts. Collecting the eggs was one of my favorite chores, because each egg through my eyes was a damsel in distress…until we ate them anyways. Father cheered me on, boasting to his adult friends that one day his son would become a hero. I wanted to live up to that and make him proud. We had the same dreams for me. Mother was not so eager about the fantasy.


My father had gotten a letter from a wealthy man in the spring of my fifteenth year. His robust laughter drew a smile to my mother’s face when he explained to her that he had been requested to craft weaponry for the city’s headman. Finally, his hard work was paying off. I was happy for him and not once had I doubted his abilities. Full of exhilaration, I begged my father to let me join him. I had never been to a city in all of my years. A small village or town couldn’t possibly compare! He happily agreed, stating that it was about time I had an adventure. Mother wished us well from the doorway as we left early the next morning, our old mule packed with food and supplies for our trip.


Fortune was nipping at our ears. Father was successful and was hired to be the personal blacksmith of the headman’s son; to our shock I was offered to be the apprentice of a soldier and within years I was promised knighthood. How could I refuse? I fervently accepted without a second thought. Father wrote to Mother about our good fortune as soon as he could. I remember watching his hand shaking with excitement, and he swore each time the ink marked incorrectly on the paper. We were to return home within a month, and Father was going to try and persuade my mother to move into the city. At the last minute before our departure, I was informed that I was not permitted to leave until my training was complete. There was no point in arguing, though the idea of being caged in one place for another multiple years was not my idea of fun. But I dared not to risk my position as a novice.


After months of prestigious study I became anxious. My parents had not arrived still, nor had I received any letter. As much as I wanted to return to the farm, I could not. You have to fulfill your dreams, don’t you? I wasn’t about to let my father down. I repeatedly told myself that he would return with mother.


Years had passed, and finally, in my twenty-seventh year, after exhausting my skills with training, I was knighted by the city’s headsman with permission from a king. I still can’t remember which king. Though I held a proper demeanor at the ceremony, I was suffocating with dread. I nearly stumbled over my words whenever I spoke. Father and Mother had not replied to the invitation to my knighting. The only word I ever got about them was from my trainer, Lucas. He promised me that they were safe. Apparently, business was just keeping them away for a short while longer. Eager for the next cycle of night to pass, I hastily prepared myself to journey home. I was finally a knight, and I would make my family proud. No more chicken chasing for me. I would travel alone, armed with my blade and seated on my strong stallion, a gift from the headman for my graduation.


Home was quiet. The floorboards creaked beneath my boots as I stepped into the hut, stubborn cobwebs sticking to me as I brushed them away. There was a musty smell in the air, and dust covered the furniture. I called out to my Mother, and then my Father. Heading out back, I finally realized that there were no animals. There were no crops. Nothing but the old chicken coop and tilted fences remained. I rushed to the store room, practically crashing through the door. Rats had gotten into our barrels and eaten every parcel of food. The farm tools had become rusted. I was more scared than confused.


Forgetting my horse, I ran as fast as I could down the dirt road to the nearest home. Empty. I ran and called and ran some more, but every hut I broke into was cold and empty. Spiders and varmints were the only inhabitants. Not even they were pleased to see me as they scurried off into hiding. The day had aged quickly, and darkness followed my heels as I meekly returned to my own farm in dismay. I remember crying.


I thought about every time Lucas told me that my parents were all right, and every time the headman would tell me of how busy they were with the many requests my father was receiving from neighboring cities.

Had they decieved me?


Upon reaching my family farm, I noticed a figure beside my steed. I quickly wiped my eyes and sprinted over, relieved and thinking the stranger to be my mother. The haggard old woman who turned to face me as I closed the distance between us was not Mother. I demanded she state her name as she stroked the neck of my horse with a crooked; almost toothless smile.


“Little bird, what are you doing out of your cage?”


Then I fell asleep.


I awoke the next night in the middle of the dirt path that joined the many farms along its way, my joints aching and popping as I pushed myself from the earth. My horse was gone, as well as the old woman. Since it was difficult to stand I dragged myself to the side of the road, panting heavily like a fatigue hunting dog. I was perplexed. It wasn’t until daybreak that I discovered sunlight was no longer as friendly as it once was. Its warmth would no longer grace my skin with hospitality.


It was a witch I saw beside my horse, and she had cursed me. The long winding road that now stretched through dark, abandoned barns and farmland became my permanent home…my sanctuary…and I still guard it viciously. I am no longer a man, but a beast. Because of this blight I can change my form at will, but only at night. The sun will only turn my flesh into stone. During the nocturnal hours my senses are heightened greatly. I’m like an animal. I learned to adjust to my new body, and I can hunt more accurately than a wolf. I could easily climb trees or walls with just a simple thought. I have no trouble seeing in the dark, either. Despite this powerful anatomy I still live in regret.


I was imprisoned. The witch caged me like a bird on the vast acres of haunted farmland. Should I attempt to step foot only a few feet away from these lands my legs would become rooted to the earth. I could only stumble back to release myself from the clairvoyant hold. I feel embarrassed and brainless to say this, but, it took me three years to figure out how simple it was to escape. And on my thirtieth birthday…I did.


A guardian never turns his back on what he is protecting. That was the key. All I had to do was walk backwards. Five, six…maybe seven steps back would temporarily free me from the curses’ grasp. I just had to return before dawn or my body would turn into a statue forevermore. Over the years I had gotten used to the turn of my skin when sunlight touches it. Becoming a statue gave me an adequate amount of time to rest, but I did not plan on falling into a slumber for forever.


Within weeks I discovered the shortest way into the city that I could, making haste to beat the sun. I wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery. In my heart I felt that the witch was not the perpetrator. She somehow knew the structure of my heart and thought it humorous to mess up my life a little more, ha ha. But this curse became my gift, and I thanked her silently for leaving me with an advantage to exact my revenge.


. . .


My mistake was following my dreams. I was so consumed in fulfilling my reverie to become a knight that I had ignored the calling of my heart. It is too late for me to admit that during my training I just wanted to go back home and live as the son of a farmer.

- - - - - - so if you love me let me go - - - - - -
AND RUN AWAY BEFORE I KNOW
- - - - - - my heart is just too dark to care - - - - - -

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