It just occurs to me that though I’ve never made an official announcement of my first published writing, a four-part work of fanfiction based on the Gamera Trilogy from the early nineties. The story was published in G-Fan Issue 96 and can be easily found, and purchased, on their website.
Though I shan’t post the entirety of it, here’s the opening segment entitled…
Her roost was gone, Her eggs crushed on the unforgiving earth below. Had She any doubt of the inborn hatred within Her breast for the Light it was gone now, lost in a storm of maternal rage and self-loathing. It was beyond Her capacity to remember, for what use was memory to Winged Death? Instincts to feed and to nest were all that mattered in the dark depths of Her heart.
She had hatched with many sisters but only flew with a small clutch, they who gained not quite an intelligence but a sense that it was they who were the stronger of the nest and so should provide for themselves alone, abandoning their younger sisters to starvation. The flesh of the animal kingdom was rich with diversity but there was one particular breed that was like ambrosia to Her taste buds.
Food is not something of a desire to most creatures; looking for a specific something to feast upon when other choices were readily available. It did not matter where the food comes from so long as it did the job of silencing hunger’s roars. On that island, there were plenty of animals to eat from the common found to the exotic but none of them gave to Her race the Essence of Life, that which was found only in one unique species on this dying planet.
With every drop of human blood that She drank, She remembered forgotten powers. With every chunk of flesh She devoured, She grew stronger. She’d have gladly devoured whole hordes of them were it not for the accursed Light! He was a permanent thorn in Her wings, tracking Her race through impossible powers, driven by a stubbornness born of failure. What kind of failure She did not know or care; it did not matter at all the why’s or the what-for’s, only that the Light and She were of two opposing sides.
But he was not without his weaknesses…
So the Light had killed Her sisters, it did not matter! For every one of Her sisters dead, several more waited in the darkness of their shells, waiting to be hatched. Though She had slept for a long time in Her egg, She was well aware of how different the World was now, its Blood was weak and stagnant and were She capable of it, She’d have gladly drunk it dry if only so She could spite him, he who could drink straight from the Life’s Blood of the planet!
The Light was like an unstoppable force, refusing to do anything but move forward against Her despite the agony She wrought upon him with everything She had, but as She grew in power and size, the difference between them shrunk to almost unperceivable lengths and in this final match between them She realized the truth about the Light. She had grown strong enough to match him and when She thought Herself stronger than the Light, She overpowered him, leaving him to die from his wounds. To think that he could have survived such an assault and come back stronger from it! It was impossible!
But then… it really wasn’t.
Standing as they were on opposite sides of the inferno, him bearing only small wounds while She stood proud as can be on a stump of a leg, She realized now the utter futility between the Light and Her race. In a world without the Light, there can be no Shadows, it would be a world without meaning, a lost neutrality forever caught in an endless cycle. Never to change, never to alter to any side of the Balance.
She might kill Him.
He would kill Her.
And the cycle would begin anew with the next generation, going on until the end of eternity, until either the world was aglow with the Light… or cast away into the abyss of Shadows. That day would start with treachery and end in agony, but no matter the victor it would at last be an End of a war ancient in design. Until then it would be they who ruled the blackness as the true Shadows of Evil. She could hear it now even as the fireball came bearing down upon Her with growing intensity. A name whispered in fear, spoken with hatred, and, in the end of this battle, relief in the idea that She and Her kind would at last be dead.