Dreams of Strength

by Wild Charger

Will you ever be, Wild Charger?

Dreams of Strength

by Billiam Wingtate

Wild Charger is the self-proclaimed protector of Stalliongrad. He remains vigilant at night and sacrifices his sleep and life so that others may have a second chance. But he has made several mistakes in his past. Sometimes these mistakes or miscalculations cost a life. And these mistakes will stick with him for the rest of his life.

Tonight, the souls of the past haunt him.

---

Wild found himself surrounded by his greatest enemy and worst foe: darkness. Every direction he looked, his eyes could not focus, for there was nothing to focus on. Calling his surrounding a black abyss would not do justice to just how empty this void felt.

Wild did what he always has when faced with a new enemy, he punched. But when his hoof came to the ground, there was nothing. No recoil, no dent, no sound-as empty as the void.

The stallion panicked, kicking and pawing at the surface of whatever ungodly world he was in, trying to register some kind of physical feedback. But all he could hear was his heavy breathing and teeth chattering, his flailing about tiring his weak muscles.

Something came from the edge of the void. A tiny wavelength of sound, barely loud enough to be called a whisper, but loud enough for Wild to turn to it with some glimmer of hope that he might not be alone. In that direction, a purely white orb was revealing itself, contrasting perfectly with the background. The sound came again at the same time the orb jiggled, indicating it as the source. Wild galloped.

As he drove closer, he could see the orb was farther than he had assumed, it's full shape barely starting to take form. But from what could be seen, the orb was not purely white-it was brighter. If the void was nothing, then this orb was everything. Every color of the spectrum uniting together in a beacon.

Wild grew excited, the shape was beginning to take the form of a pony. He breathed through gritted teeth, hoping this individual may be able to help him. The sound was beginning to repeat, becoming louder and clearer with each hoof step. The stallion's eyes widened, the message now clear. In a desperate, feminen voice, the orb was calling for help.

He pushed energy to his legs, urging them on. If there was any way to go faster, he would make himself do so. The voice was now so loud it was causing physical pain to enter his ears. He was close, the image was clearer-The white sillohuete of a mare was growing, half-crawling and reaching a hoof out toward Wild. He shouted to her, but her voice continued the same. He told her not to worry, he was almost there. But something was pulling her.

Behind the light, there was another silhouette, almost as dark as the void. It's eerie tendril held onto the mare and stretched back into the darkness where the void camoflaged it's full shape.

Wild begged for the light to hold on as it was being pulled back into the abyss. His gate lengthened, his hoofbeats were muffled, making him feel as though he was gliding. He could see himself getting closer, faster than the figure could pull. He was going to make it in time!

But something stopped him. His body slammed hard into an unseen wall, the first thing in this world to give his sense of touch any stimulation. Without pause he was back on his legs, ramming his frame into the invisible barrier. He had reached the edge of the void.

The voice was changing, becoming a chorus of pleads for assistance. Wild was stunned, he recognized some of them. They were ponies he had helped, victims from the past. His ears were filled with a symphony of cries, half of them strangers and the rest from memories.

Wild planted his hooves on the wall, pushing with all his might. It wouldn't budge. He reared back and dropped his weight into it, recoil delivering all the energy from the blow back to his body, sending him backward a few steps.

The mare began screaming separately from the other voices, begging for him to hurry.

He frantically kicked and punched the barrier without pattern. If he couldn't break it with technique, he would break it by pure force. His full weight came down on his obstacle again and again, harder and harder. With each hit, Wild felt as if he could send more into the next one, but his legs still could not go any faster. "Not strong enough" his voice played in his head.

The back half of the lighted mare was disappearing into the void. Her voice was lessening while all the others continued to stack on top of each other. Wild cursed the maker and turned around, frustratingly bucking at the nothing that was stopping him. He screamed and swore, something had to work! He swung his boomerang harder than he thought was possible, only for it to break and crack against the immovable object. "Not strong enough!"

The light's pleading hoof became entrenched in the abyss, her voice muffled completely by the laws of this world. The sounds in his ears stopped, but he continued to kick, tackle, swing, punch, even throw his shattered weapon at the void. But it still would not fall.

He collapsed onto the ground shaking, covering his head as if there were something to to keep himself from seeing in these dark surroundings. Something new was coming, it's pitch gaining faster than the voices from before. This time it was inside him, drilling into his head, rattling the base of his skull. He had heard this before, but it was something he couldn't accept. It continued to clog his thoughts with it's chants, condescending and belittling. "Not strong enough! Not strong enough!"

Author's Note:

Comment and rate, let me know what you think. I invite any kind of criticism.
I wrote this over a year ago and thought I should start publishing my smaller things. I hope you enjoyed.

Comments

[FakeScienceMonthly]

The atmosphere for the story was good, but I don't really understand the character, or the plot. You say that he fights the souls of the past, but I don't understand why. Did he do something wrong in the past that made him haunted? Or are they just random evil souls? I don't know why he is the protector of Stalliongrad, or what his motivations and traits are. He uses very little of his personality in this fight scene. I think you need to use more detail when you write a story like this or it becomes hard for the reader to immerse themselves.

[Wild Charger]

2757616 Thank you for your input! Some of what you said is simply the result of being an excerpt from a story that unwanted input on, but everything you said is indeed something I can listen to, so thank you. The atmosphere was the big thing I went for in this, so I'm glad you liked it. Was the writing itself done well you think?

[Wild Charger]

2757616
I realized just now I did not clarify that this is a dream that Wild is experiencing of his past mistakes that have led to the death of the people he's tried to save. He's haunted by the thought of his failures and is having a nightmare.