Blackbird Fly by Grace Busch
Photography
Death's Lament by Jessica Lee
Poetry
“You stumble here, urged by an unnamed force—for surely, you have not come of your own volition. In your haste, you forget where your feet carry you: there is nothing for you here, nothing but barren hills and jagged, black-tipped rocks.
But, wait! How blind am I, to shun the truth so quickly; it is indeed your own will that drives you forth. Perhaps your untrained legs stumble, but your destination holds strong—a place of darkness, from which to draw your light. Tell me, boy, what is it you hope to accomplish with that sword?
Your mind pictures glory, but there is no glory after death—‘tis a thing of the living, among which you will no longer reside. Regret shall follow you like hounds at your heels, and your mortal fame will offer little consolation in the fields of the dead. No candle, not even a gilded one, could ever withstand an eternity of darkness—no matter how bright it may burn in the moment.
You wish for advice, O Warrior? Many have come to these shores, but none have ever left them. Better to live long and wisely, than short and foolishly. Do not throw away your life for the whispers and awe of unknown faces. But, soft—for like a moth is drawn to flame, another arrives to greet the doors of death.”
- so long as life endures, they shall come—them, with bared teeth and open arms—and I, their dark-eyed Reaper.