The Warrior and The Hunter (short story)

The Hunter’s crazy eyes, agape with horrific realisation,
were out-monstered by the tortured smile plastered upon his face.
Rows of white,
a unpleasant grin.

The Warrior saw.
He watched as the other crumbled,
as he broke apart,
the pieces gathering at his feet.

The Damaged had become The Destroyed.

Then the eyes refocused.
Hunched over, knees digging into unforgiving ground,
a laugh escaped constricted lungs
– a scream in form of desperate sounds.
You“, was all The Hunter cried,
hands bunched into fists,
fingertips cutting bloody half-moons into ice cold flesh.

No longer was The Warrior watching the phenomena
of a collapsing universe in front of him.
He was staring into it,
blinded by the explosion of super novas in those dark orbs.
He couldn’t shut his eyes.
He couldn’t pull away.

It was too late.

He was enchanted by the darkness swallowing itself
right in front of him.
His knees gave out, under him.
But never once had his gaze drifted,
never once had he tried to move away.
HIs gravity had been redefined,
he had no other choice than give into the pull.

A clash of old and new was what broke the curse
but cast a spell,
fire breaking out from in between their lips,
now locked.
The Hunter threw away the key, buried it in storms
of thunder.

“So let him”,
The Warrior thought,
Let this new universe swallow me whole.

And as if those words had been uttered
through the melody of their pounding hearts,
The Hunter complied.