Unfurling A Struggle

Ron Koppelberger

Unfurling A Struggle

The mountain pass was strewn with the ancient stones of ghosts, in a clear remembrance of youth, vigor and sure constructs of forever; a forgotten dream of eternity, the outline of an ethereal footpath, decreed by the slow progression of tumble-down houses and ancient dwellings. The ruins bespoke of life, love and a hope for the morrow; they were a nascent moment of breath pledged pure and pristine and yet, here it lay in ruin and severed lineage.
He paused undaunted by the fear that threatened to swallow him, the great behemoth demon that had lain waste to the affairs of an entire town. He searched the rubble for bones, for clues, for the test of unfurled struggle. What fate had the denizens of Mountain Common met, a landslide, great geysers of mud, volcanoes and ash, what had brought the ghosts to their current specter.
He loosed the stone and mortar of a corner block. The building had been a public veranda, a place of worship and gathering. The stone slid away revealing an assortment of ancient possessions. A ruby and silver broach, was it ancient, it looked newer than the surrounding ruin. He touched the jewel and sighed , what dream he thought. The space of a few seconds passed and he saw the shadows commingle in the distant twilight, huge abeyances of dark silhouette.
Reaching into the open space revealed by the stone he touched the items secreted there. Forty years and a day, the items were brought to this place, stored away, hidden from use; by an abiding need to curtail the fates he knew, he realized the seal remained steadfast, a distant traveler to the stony mount, to the ruins of Mountain Common. The explorer had left the tokens of the future in order to bind the past, the possible fare of current futures. The objects had been placed in the stone corner as a bond, “I give this token in prayer and as a promise for our future.” he said aloud.
There were other items in the secret crevice, some old, some ancient, progressions meant to deter the shadows of desolation, the great gibbering madness of demons and destruction.
He slipped off his silver Rolex and the diamond ring binding his marriage, he was married to the task now, by the god’s and light, by the love of life and the dreams of a sunrise forever bright.
Later he would forget the moment of abiding taboo for the promise of an almost perfect future, nevertheless the fates remembered.