End of the Rite: Escape from Coldharbour

Rev Rielle

*You look around the small, simple room. A somewhat strange open book catches your eye. The author has not signed their name, but the subject they've written about seems eerily familiar. And the ink is still fresh on the page. Perhaps you are not the only one who's been through tumultuous times of late.*


Tears.
Endless tears.
Swimming and swirling about like a great school of fish.
Pressing upon me like a hurricane's roar.
I'm tossed to and fro.
End over end, and over again.
Akin to a grain of sand tumbling across the dunes of the Alik’r Desert.
Never ending.


Eyes locked tight I feel fresh breath kiss my cheek.
I try to focus.
It is wind. It is a great force.
A cold tempest crushing upon me as I'm lifted up, higher and higher.
Tears rise and fall below, groping ever after as I ascend, above my soaking misery.
Out of the cold dark depths of seething confusion.
I dare a glimpse but the gale seizes the opportunity and fervently returns my tears, ravishing my sight.
Eyes squeeze tight again as the kraken cups me in it's arm, hurling me upwards.
Over the edge of reason.
I crash down under the weight of the torrent, sprawling out on my back.
Like a starfish washed upon the rocks.


Relative stillness now.
Fewer tears remain. The stragglers calmly roll off my cheeks.
I feel a heaving as my hysterical heart tries to burst free, to escape madness.
I grasp and gather it up, along with my thoughts. Holding them close I slowly soothe my distraught children.
The maelstrom begins to subside.
But something is missing, something no longer inside. A coldness, an emptiness.
A sense of loss washes over in a flush of goose bumps.
I shiver.


I brave to perceive my surroundings again.
Straining, I see grey cloudy figures about, moving and changing form.
Behind them, seemingly grand tall trees loom high overhead, waving massive white canvas leaves fluttering in the breeze.
They are no palms.
I try to focus, but the veil lifts no further.
With hands and fingers I explore this new world.
Cold and hard. Wooden.
Where are the sands?


This was not how it should be.
This was not how my rite of passage should end.
Feelings of shame slowly slither in and coil up in a corner of my foggy mind.
They sew seeds of doubt, dishonour.
For my family, my Ra'gada, Tall Papa, Leki.
Only the strong survive. Only those return from the desert.
This is no desert. Where am I?
Disgraced.
I close my eyes, recoiling my senses.
Exhausted, slumber takes me.

- Rev Rielle.

wandering.mind_ESO

Poetically visual. Well done.

Icy

Oh, I like this very much. Poetry as prose.

My only quibble would be the use of "the kraken". Is there a more lore-ish alternative? (Or is there a kraken in ESO lore that I've missed).

Very well done indeed.

Rev Rielle

Icy wrote: »

Oh, I like this very much. Poetry as prose.

My only quibble would be the use of "the kraken". Is there a more lore-ish alternative? (Or is there a kraken in ESO lore that I've missed).

Very well done indeed.

Thank you.
Yes, there is no actual kraken present in the piece. It's not perfect, no. It's simply a metaphor I've used to stoke the reader's imagination . I've used a lot of them.