Baratta.net Stories

Within my hand I hold a piece,
A part of something, definitely not whole,
Someone out there holds the other.

"The answers to all lies out there, with the stars."

 A nondescript box spins upon the edge of a newly expanding universe.  The box sits and waits, carrying a message that may or may not be found during this cycle. The box itself spins patiently within a uni‑synchronous orbit. So much change has gone on underneath the box that change itself has become repetitious. Flowing with each cycle the box dances above all, never to be caught by each universe's grasping fingers.

“Sir, we’ve made contact with the Negotiator. They are ready to discuss the terms of the assignment.”

“Are we sure that this Negotiator represents the party we are seeking?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve established a secure communication channel using the known public encryption key. “

A pale green light is slowly cast over the courtyard gently pushing the darkness before it.  A figure stands in the center of the court with the hilt of a two‑handed sword placed purposefully against his forehead.  The blade of the sword rises majestically over him.  The greenish light emanates from the sword.  A the light strengthens, two other objects shadow into view.  The sil­houette of a tall, thin man solidifies behind the sword‑wielder and a large pillar filters into view in front of the sword‑ wielder.  Whispered urgings bounce off the courtyard walls cautiously intensifying.   The sword‑wielder becomes a blur as he lunges, sword arching down, at the pillar.  He is back in posi­tion as sparks cascade down from the side of the pillar.  Before the first flame of rock touches the courtyard soil, the sword‑ wielder attacks the opposite side of the pillar.  He returns to position as quickly as before.

The thin man raises his hands and the pillar flickers with movement.  The sword‑wielder drops to his knees as the pillar bends to confront him.  Now on the defensive, the sword‑wielder spins and brings the now flashing sword upwards.  The sword leaves a ghostly trail of light as it speeds toward the closing head of the pillar.  The stone resists the fiery contact and continues to push at the fighter.  The swords trail of light is the only way to track the fighter as he rolls away, stand over the pillar like an executioner and brings the sword down on the head of the pillar.  The pillar diffuses from view and the sword buries itself deep into the ground.

I will try to write to you in verse, though simple words are my curse.
I will attempt to recreate the Bard of old, if I may be so big and bold.
Through meter and rhyme, through dance and song, I will speak to and not tarry long.
Upon this world we are meant to stay, keeping the dark world at bay.