The Exodus Journal: Entry 2

Fantasy Friday

The lands to the east are truly wild, dense with ancient trees that tower high above our heads; unexploited by human hands. There is no road to follow either, only a small path that is leading us in the general direction of our destination – a mountain both tall in legend and height, that separates the known with the unknown. Our hopes are that once ascended, the cataclysm will be unable to follow and we will once again know peace.

Sometimes we encounter small villages along our way, small hints of civilisation represented by the smoke from their campfires. We send emissaries whenever we are able, and the people often accepts our offer to join as they are aware of the impending danger. But there are those that refuse our invitation. I do not know why they would as they should be aware of the destructive forces of the cataclysm by now; the smoke blackening the sky and the smouldering flames that illuminates the horizon in the west.

Though, I do not mourn for those that are left behind, for these eastern folk are as wild as the forest they live in. A land not claimed by neither tribe nor nation. What else would one expect of a people living at the edges of the known world, by the foot of the mountain that separates this world and the next.

I myself is not familiar with this land for I come from the land furthest to the west where the sea is plentiful and the beaches are beautiful. But I refrain from recalling too vividly my former homelands for the pain such memories cause is unimaginable. Nor do I have any inclination of writing it down for I could never, with mere words, do justice of its beauty.

No, it is better for it to be lost by the ages. To focus on the prospects ahead rather than what we have lost.


Read the rest of the series here: The Exodus Journal


I aimed to post these stories once a day, but I was immediately thwarted by a writers block… so I took a break. Good thing I did because I changed the name of the series from “Baxter Helbard’s Journal” to “Exodus Journal”. Better to change it early when the series is still young.

The Exodus Journal: Entry 1

Fantasy Monday

It is now 368 days since the exodus from our homelands and the horrors that we’ve witnessed have been many; images that I’d rather forget, much less describe. Yet, they are burned into my consciousness and will haunt me for the rest of my life. But I will continue to repress them and look onward into the future, in the hopes that I, and our people, will once again know peace.

What else can one do than to hope for a better future, lest you lay down and die in defeat? which I have seen many do. Completely and utterly giving up on the future. I don’t blame them, however. I’m not ashamed to admit that the thought had crossed my mind, as well. For what do I possibly have to live for? when everything that I know, and thought I knew, has been shattered by forces that I, nor anyone else, can explain but the acts of god all mighty?

Some believe that Lord Avos is testing us, while others believe that he have abandoned us. I don’t subscribe to any of those statements for who are we to interpret his infinite wisdom? That is to say, if such a man truly exists? It doesn’t matter, however. For those that have survived, they look toward the future, how bleak it may be. Hence I write this journal, to document a new beginning instead of our demise.


Read it at all in one place here

The Exodus Journal: A New Series

Vol. 1

The moon shone through the window, revealing many shelves inside the dark room. Only the candle in his hand gleamed in bright orange and yellow, the light moving along the stacks of books on the lower shelf. Some of the books were well used and in tatters, while others were virtually new and easy to recognise. She had a system for organising her books, he knew, but he could never figure it out – not fully. This only made him more excited, feeling as if he was on a grand adventure and explored an old forgotten dungeon. But as the light of the candle fell on a piece of cloth hanging on the wall, the illusion faded, and his mind once again turned to gloom.

The banner was made of red cloth with golden thread-work that depicted a blood moon eclipsed by a curved blade. It was the banner of his family, or rather, his tribe; the rulers of this world.

Fendrael’s eyes glistened in the candle light as he looked, his eyes almost as red as the moon on the banner.

But the banner represented something else to him, a society which he could not fully understand; a family he could not fully be a part of. Sometimes he wondered if he knew his mother at all. At times, she was understanding and warm, in others, she was brisk and secluded. Hiding herself in her library and immersing herself in her many books. Today was one of those days when briskness took control of her; and his father was not far behind in adding to the scolding, for he trusted his wife immensely. There was no such thing as being too strict with his son.

Fendrael felt his punishment to be uncalled for, being locked inside as he was. All he had done was asking an old man about the strange looking ornaments hanging from his beard, and commented on his funny accent…

Bored and bitter, he let out a sigh, blew out the candle, and let himself fall onto the only chair in the room behind him. The chair creaked dangerously under his weight. But instead of checking for damage, he furrowed his brow and remained on the seat, caring not for the scolding he would surely receive later. 

Now, sitting comfortably, he stared at the ceiling that was as black as night itself. They say it is dangerous to look too deeply into the night, lest your mind traps itself in the void. Shuddering from the thought, his eyes drifted down to a table next to him. On it, there was a well worn book, half open and inviting. Curious, he grabbed it, but wrinkled his nose as a pungent smell entered his nostrils. The book was old (really old) and the leather cover seemed to barely hold the yellowed pages together. Holding it far from his face to avoid the smell, he read the title on the cover: “The Exodus Journal.”

There was no author on the cover, only the title. Figuring there was nothing else he could do, he placed the book back on the table, lit the candle again, and carefully turned to the first page. The pages were dry, but they still held, and the smell, that had made his nose wrinkle moments before, no longer affected him as he leaned forward and read the first sentence:


Nightmare Stories – Poem

Every night they haunted me

Stories that didn’t exist

Stories that I refused to make

That was trapped inside my mind

Only at night did their powers awaken


With control over my body,

they made me walk the night

Scream the night

Never giving me rest

Only when I finally wrote them into existence

Sealing them in ink and paper

Did they vanish from my dreams

Giving space for new ones

New stories to be made

Alone I Stand and Alone I will Remain – Poem

With all my great capacity to imagine and convey the fantastic; why can’t I imagine someone sitting next to me? What she would be like; what she would look like?

Am I incapable of seeing another person in my life? Or perhaps that person doesn’t simply exist; the one to make me whole, the one to support me and always be by my side?

I’m destined to be alone for I’m an egoist. Not capable of love. Not capable of showing affection. Only when I change will that person materialize before me. Only then will I meet her, the one, the one destined for one another.

Day 6 (Final): Lord Avos – Poem

He is the creator of all that is good

And all that is evil

The caster of doubt

The Lord that cast us away


Though, in his infinite wisdom

Gave us a way to repent

Gave us strengths to survive


We are the children of Avos

The strength,

the mind

and soul of Avos

The manifest of his very being into our world


One day he will take us back

Back to his kingdom

When we have repented

When we have been judged worthy to stand by his side once more

At the eternal kingdom of light

Of happiness

And contempt.


Read the short story the poetry is based on here

Day 5: The Beacons of Light – Poem

It is unmistaken

The significance they have among our people

Though they are not of my kind

– In fact, they are of the kind I used to trust the least –

They are the strength that guides us

Keeps us together

The brother and the sister

The strength of Avos


Read the short story the poetry is based on here

Day 4: Horrid Creatures – Poem

A creature so horrid, so deformed, that it could not possibly exist in this world.

Yet, such a creature lay before me, still withering in its deathly spasms

Though its body was grotesque – its meat was plentiful

I had many reservations eating such a thing

Not only of its hideous appearance,

its rat-like tail and gruesome fangs,

And gruesome fangs,

but also for what it had devoured before its capture


Previous – Next

And read the short story the poetry is based on here

Day 3: Luminescent Plants – Poem

All natural light is gone,

Save for a speck of precious yellow glow in the distance

Streaking between the branches above

Yet, the forest is illuminated

Glowing in different shades of purple

Some in light blue

Like a cave

I do not dare to stare directly at these luminescent plants

Who knows what they are made of

What they are capable of


Read the short story the poetry is based on here

Day 2: Land of Horrors – Poem

A few of us died today

Their faces twisted

Their skin bloated

One can only imagine the horrors they experienced before they drew their last breath

But I choose not to


Read the short story the poetry is based on here

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