Avon & The Golden Shore: Destruction

Avon & The Golden Shore
A Short Story Inspired by the Imagination and Digital Image of @xpilar

Feelings of anxiety and dread bubbled up within Avon. He circled frantically around himself trying to make sense of his surroundings. The air was very hot, dry and dusty. His emotions swayed between shock, confusion and emptiness. He knew exactly where he was but it was not right. He was still standing on the same spot where he was moments ago on Magnus mountain in Smithonya surrounded by his companions. The location was the same but now his friends were no where to be seen. No living creature was anywhere nearby. There were no sounds of birds flying or insects in the ground below. The grass lands that stretched as far as the eye could see towards the edge of the seashore where replaced by ash and barrenness. A pungent smell began to overwhelm Avon, there was something rancid and rotten about it. The landscape was completely decayed. Avon was alone, completely alone. The Arch Communicator still towered above him but it was a wreckage now. Below him he could just barely make out what was once Smithonya. The city’s edges had melted like the ores the Smith’s crafted below this very mountain.

“What is this?” he asked himself beneath his breath in complete and utter disbelief.

“This is what you have done with your words and that wretched Golden Pen, Avon!” A loud reverberating female voice spoke. It came from everywhere making Avon spin faster around himself looking for its source.

“Who said that?” Avon called out.

“I’m over here Word Smith… Spellbinder… Poet of the Gods. Or shall I just call you Land Scorcher?” the female voice answered sarcastically, her many voices merging towards one source.

Avon kept turning in circles until he saw a dark aberration begin to form to his right where the voices merged. The formation took on a silhouette of a very tall slender woman with extended limbs.

“What do you mean?” Avon pleaded for information with shaking lips. He was fully engulfed in fear. Something was so wrong.

The silhouette had transformed into a seductive mature woman with piercing red eyes. She was much taller than Avon and was dressed in a black hooded robe. She approached him fast, floating over the ground dropping him backwards to the floor by the shear force of her presence. The pen had also fallen out of his hand and rolled up beside him like a pet.

This was Avon’s first direct encounter with a goddess. None of the gods would communicate directly with anyone except through the Elders.

“You were unprepared for the task set before you. You allowed your passion to overcome you. You wrote with such fire that you engulfed everyone in the Land with uncontrollable irrational emotions. The energy became so unbearable that the Fire Lake itself below this mountain overflowed until it erupted. It consumed everything and everyone you have come to love and protect on this mountain.” The goddess’s deafening voice echoed in Avon’s ears. It was Jun, the Goddess of Judgement.

“Nooooo!!! I could not have done this!” Avon wailed with pain. He clutched the pen as hard as he always did before writing but this time he raised it upwards pointing towards his chest. “I don’t deserve to live” he cried out, “I don’t….”

“STOP!!!” Jun’s voice banged within his head, freezing him in position with the pen still pointing in the suicidal position.

“There were others that could have been gifted this pen, but my sister picked you. I can not believe she chose an emotionally immature Centralian, regardless of how powerful your emotions are.” the goddess now spoke softer yet firmly.

“You and the rest of your precious Land are fortunate this event has not happened… Yet. Put that pen away, then stand up and listen to me very carefully young writer.” the goddess explained as she commanded Avon to his feet, never allowing him once to escape her deep red gaze.