short stories collection - a compilation of my short stories.


There are two goals in life, to reproduce and defy death.
No, you have it all wrong. It is to become at peace with the world and accept death.
You both are fools, it is merely to see Death.
A black cloud descended upon the scene and the three Magi tensed.

A dark, brooding story about three magi and their battle against the darkness.

Ideally, one should read this while listening to The Great Gig In The Sky - Pink Floyd. At least, that is what I was listening to when I wrote it.

There are two goals in life, to reproduce and defy death.

No, you have it all wrong. It is to become at peace with the world and accept death.

You both are fools, it is merely to see Death.

A black cloud descended upon the scene and the three Magi tensed.

So it has come.

Indeed, if we are to be saved…

We must stand…




They all drew their swords, their cloaks flowing in the wind. They all knelt in a circle and waited—the gust gathering, the darkness growing, the air moistening. Red droplets hit their faces, their white robes morphing to the look of a canvas after Pollock had done his work. Defy took out his shield and started to chant spells, his eyes turning black as the night, his skin a deathly white, his nails a ruby red. Accept sat in a Budda position and laid his sword across his legs, and calmly started to recite the Poem, a soft glow emanated from his hands and illuminated his face. See fell to the ground—defeated--the dust filling the air; the stench of the dead flowed past.

Do you now see! Haha, you cannot see death! You fool, you just fight, fight till there is nothing left to…

And yet, by fighting death, you give it power…

Ha, then I shall fight harder!

In the distance hooves could be heard trampling the ground, their huffing and puffing filling the air.



Defy lunged into the air and sliced at the approaching storm. A head came flying by and rolled past Accept; he looked up, not amused.

You think accepting death will save you from it!

I do not wish to be saved.

The air filled with the sound of a million locusts. The sound seemed to approach, then recede, approach, then recede, like waves lapping upon the shore.

So he taunts us.

Only to those willing to listen.

Defy lowered his weapons and turned towards Accept and put one knee upon the ground.

So you have finally…

Dropping to his knees, Defy became a dreidel—his sword a deadly edge—and the sound of meat on sword soon filled the air; the Magi’s robe was no longer just a splattering of red. He jumped into the air and continued to twirl, the darkness growing, and his skin continuing to be leeched of colour. Finally it ended, and he fell to the ground.

This is what I must do…

It is what you choose to do…

That makes all the difference?

Only if you want to make one.

Defy dug his sword into the ground, looking around him, smiling. It was darkness.

And if I seek…

You shall end up like those who Saw.

His pushed down on his sword and lifted himself. The locust swarmed near, men were being ripped apart, their howls filling the air, the cacophony of sounds chilling the Magi, freezing Defy in his place.

I have not faced Locust before.

Then you shall die.

How is it that one lives to know that?

Because if you accept…

The Locust ignores you?


Defy looked pale, his nails had turned transparent, his eyes were a bright blue. He took off his rob and walked towards his bag, stuffing it in as he chanted a few spells. Water gushed out from below and cleansed him. He took out a clean, blue rob--soft as cashmere, and smooth as silk. He tied a red sash across his waist and pulled out the black and white, stripped headband and slipped it on. Cutting the air several times with his sword, he ran out into the darkness, the buzzing growing louder.

And so…we must all pay…

Defy felt his flesh being ripped away, he cried out, but they were drowned out by the noise of the locusts. Falling to the ground once more, the Magi—with several movements of his hand--started sinking into it, becoming it.


The Magi felt himself being ripped from the earth and thrown into the air, above the darkness, above the death, above all that he had known. He continued to soar, the air rippling by him and his lungs becoming devoid of oxygen. Finally he slowed; coming to a stopped, he looked around. The world below him was an ever changing sea of light and dark: swirling, morphing, colliding, yet never mixing. The void surrounding him pressed in, he looked around and everywhere there were…things indescribable, the death of an infinite souls was commencing, the blades dropping, the guns firing, the lasers warming and yet, each one was the same: the bleached, white skins; the rolled-back, black eyes; the curled, red finger nails. And he laughed and laughed, but the void stole him the opportunity to be heard.

And so here…


His blood froze as the planet darkened from the shadow, the sun was blotted out, and the heavens shook. The bones creaked and the flesh broke off in bits, as if a zombie had been amplified to the size of a star, the eyes a blinding white, the skin a sordid grey, with bits and pieces of skin morphing between ruby red and carbon black. Defy’s hand reached for his sword, but it was no longer there, his shield having long shattered in the cold.


And Defy laughed a bit more as the cosmic hand reached to engulf him and he smiled. But this was not to be! Light shone from behind and a beam plunged into the hand of Death.

and I shall not let your suffering come to pass.

Defy was blinded by the light as the heavens shook and he was flung back, his body scorching as he zipped through the atmosphere--to the darkness, to the death, to life. He plunged into the ground, reaching up and digging his hands into the soil, he pulled himself from the hole. A small area around him was illuminated, the scorched earth giving little contrast to the darkness at the end of the light. He lifted himself up and surveyed the area.

I see.

And he fell, laughing the whole way.

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©2006-2017 | biafra ahanonu | updated 12 december 2017
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