The Steel Mask

It covers, smothers, holds my face
Wrapped up tight in silvery embrace
For I am the Master of Disguise
And suffocate the truth with silver lies

These storms, wars, troubles deep
Are veiled behind the excuse of sleep
For I am the Master of Disguise
And afflictions must never be allowed to rise

The mask heavy, steady in place,
Must press down all sorrow’s trace
For I am the Master of Disguise
This burden, it my heart ties

The mask smiles, jokes and beguiles
To hide the wounds, scars, and trials
For I am the Master of Disguise
And must fool even the most wise

But look not close at my silver face
The truth beneath is seen in trace
For I am the Master of Disguise
But am betrayed by my own brown eyes

On current statis...

Well, I felt like I hadn't posted in a while and know I won't be until after thanksgiving so I thought I should at least give a little update. So here goes:

Chapter 2 is done, it just needs a little fine tuning and some minor refining (don't you hate that I'm a perfectionist! >:)

The Two Horsemen novella didn't get nearly the response I was looking for but I am adamant about finishing the novella and then refining it as well. What you see there is a first draft thats still very rough and unfocused. Either way I already have Part II written in my head its just a matter of getting in down on paper when I have a chance.

The Epic Poem (the Lament of Brandur + Perlise) that I'm working on seems to be in hiatus for now. I already know what I want to do, I just need to figure out if I'll leave it in current format or if I'll redo the entire thing. :D

Also have a poetic idea on the far distant backburner of the dark recesses of my brain called 'the Heartbreaker of Calais' (that would be pronouned to rhyme with 'delay') It'll be good. >:D

Oh, my current project garnering the most of my creative enegry and time is a short story (or series of them) that deals with the theme of the Lord of the Mists. So far I am almost done with the first but I want to finish at least two before I post any. Either way, whether I write one, three, five, or twenty, they will each be individual and not interdependent (though reading them together would be very beneficial). So far I'm on the tenth page of the fourth draft. As I said, most of my focus is on it right now. Hopefully I can begin December with it. :)

Other than that I have relatives and friends coming to stay until the 29th so I'll probably be silent until then. To all my faithful readers (i know you're out there in the thousands you're all just too shy to comment :D) Good bye and have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

The Swallow

The Swallow

She raised her head, her dark black head
From her white downy chest
The dark night wind, the frozen wind
Blew strongly from the west

She called her song, her lonely song
Faintly, sadly, true
She looked with eyes, her deep blue eyes
Searching the midnight blue

She spread her wings, her gorgeous wings
Flapping, flying high
She left her nest, her cozy nest
To search the endless sky

She breached the clouds, the frozen clouds
Higher, farther still
She saw the stars, the dancing stars
The heaven’s icy chill

She felt the cold, the biting cold
Ice caking on her wings
She cried a tear, one single tear
Her lonely song she sings

She missed her home, her cozy home
Lonely, cold, afraid
She fluttered down, slowly down
Her mind began to fade

She fell so hard, so very hard
Upon the frozen ground
She closed her eyes, her sad sad eyes
And did not make a sound

Then changed the sky, the deep blue sky
Paler, fainter, bright
She felt the warmth, the soothing warmth
Of the sun’s rising light

She raised her head, her beautiful head
She opened her wings and then
She flew up high into the morning sky
And she sang her song again

Ghulian Mythographical Anthology

Well in case you are wondering what I have been writing in my spare time between working on my short stories, novella, poems, and of course the almost done chapter 2 of my book, here you go. This is the backstory to a third of the Ghullian history. It's taken from a mythographical point fo view. The Ghul developed as five diffrent tribes with diffrent gods and goddesses. Two became combined as a single tribe and then latter one of the others conquored the other tribes and they all together became the Ghulian Empire. This is reflected in their mythology. So here they are the creation myths for the tribes and then some common myths of the Ghullian people. Oh, and I'm including some biographical information on the deities too. :)

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Profiles of the Pantheon

Name: Zadekphagu
Titles: Mighty Overlord of Heaven and Earth, God of Warfare and Battle, He Who Destroys All, He Who Walks In Blood
Appearance: A large four armed man with the head of a ram, large raven wings, and a body covered in scales. He wears heavy armor and holds one of the four cardinal weapons of warefare in each hand. His helmet is crowned by the sun, his breastplate the moon, and his belt the stars.
Domain: The whole of Rho Ghul, specifically worshiped by the Sohud and patron deity of the emperor, soldiers, and conquerors.
Symbols: The sun, moon, stars, any weapons, the tiger

Name: Orithea
Titles: Queen of the Heavens, Goddess of Beauty and Appitite, She Who Nourishes, The Ripe One, The Providing Flame
Appearance: A young beautiful woman of marriageable age usually scantly clad or naked. She holds an apple in her hand to signify her birth from the apple tree as well as her fruitfulness, and a boiling pot beneath her to signify nourishment.
Domain: The whole of Rho Ghul but her cult is centered around the southern forests and the Vhut people. She is the patron deity of girls, single women, powerful women, and prostitutes.
Symbols: The apple, apple tree, a boiling pot, the white dove

Name: Borgia
Titles: Goddess of the Seas, Abundance, Commerce, Trade, Theater, Lying, Money, and Profit, She Who Lights, The Wealthy One, The Golden Goddess, The Prospering Flame
Appearance: A woman with the torso of two fish and a necklace of conch. She has a stuffed bag in one hand symbolizing enrichment and a lit torch in the other symbolizing enlightment. Early depictions of her was also with both hands holding a large bowl, often either full of gold, grapes, or oil on fire. She is also often depicted with the theater mask of comedy and tragedy.
Domain: Throughout Rho Ghul where ever money is used and valued. Major temples on the Sea of Borgia and on the coast venerated by the Khus. She is the patron deity of money lenders, merchants, tax collectors, actors, liars, con artist, bankers, and traders.
Symbols: The fish, the torch, the theater masks, the overflowing cup/bag

Name: Athium
Titles: God of Rain, Inspiration, Music, the Arts, The Singer, The Trickster, The Agile One
Appearance: A handsome beardless youth usually wearing only the small tunic of the coastal men and with a shell necklace and anklet, carrying a lyre in one hand and often a chisel or paintbrush in the other.
Domain:The Khus lands with a large temple dedicated to him and his wife on the coast. He is the patron deity of the arts and therefore all artisans except for actors, as well as young boys and men.
Symbols: The lyre, the hammer and chisel, the paintbrush, the writing tablet, the fish

Name: Enca
Titles: Goddess of the Home, She Who Warms, The Enclosing One, Of the Tents, The Protecting Flame
Appearance: A middle aged woman with head covered and stomach protruding in pregnancy holding a pole in one hand and a long cloth in the other wearing robes of the Wag-Thur people
Domain: The valley is home to her cult center, but all homes in Rho Ghul has a small shrine to her. She is the patron deity of childbirth, protection, and marriage, of married women, mothers, midwives, and pregnant women.
Symbols: Tents, cloth, poles, blazing fire, the ewe and lamb

Name: Humh
Titles: God of Strength and Labor, The Hunter, The Changer, The Strong One
Appearance: A strong man sometimes with a small beard with a large spear and gauntlets on his wrists and ankles.
Domain: His cult is primarily found in the valley and the coliseums. He is the patron deity of farmers, herders, guards, hunters, and athletes.
Symbols: The spear, the ram, the pole

Name: Miphilphime
Titles: God of Wisdom and Knowledge, The Scholar, The Enduring One, Of the Groves, The Wise One
Appearance: An old man with long beard and bald head usually with his staff in one hand and scrolls in the other, sometimes depicted as blind as well with a raven on his shoulder.
Domain: His cult is found primarily in the secret groves of Vhut and the academies in the large cities as well as in the libraries of the nobility. He is the patron deity of old men, scholars, teachers, and librarians.
Symbols: The raven, the scroll, the oak staff,

Name: Yvena
Titles: The Lady of the Black Mantel
Appearance: A tall, elegant old woman in a black cowl holding a candle, through she is normally not depicted
Domain: She is feared throughout Rho Ghul as death personified though she is said to actually walk in the wailing misty canyons of Yvl. She is worshiped by a cult that has sprung up throughout the empire and with many members even in the noble households.
Symbols: Not depicted out of fear

The Legend of the Khus

In the very beginning of the world, there was no water anywhere to be found. The young god Athium descended upon the cold barren world and began to play a song upon his lyre. And as he played, from his song came the first rains. And the rains allowed trees and fields and flowers to grow. And the trees and fields and flowers then made there be food for the birds and the beasts and the crawling things. But where all this sacred rain gathered together there was so much inspiration and magic that from it was born a goddess, the lady Borgia, Queen of the Seas and Mother of all the Fish. And when Athium and Borgia came together he played a new melody for her and she became with child. And this child was the ancestor for the people of Khus, the Fisher peoples. They learned from their mother Borgia how to catch fish and sail over water. They learned from their father Athium how to sculpt rocks and sing songs and write poems. And so they became great in the land of the Ghul. Of their many children Zheng the Poet was one of the greatest and he wrote their tale and many others.

The Legend of the Vhut

When all the world was still not made, the wise god Miphilphime wrote the magic word that caused the world to take form. And then he went down into the land and wrote the word for water, for air, for woods, and for animals. Then he went down to the sacred woods and there he found the most lovely apple tree of all and spoke the word of appitite upon it and the goddess Orithea came forth full and ready for marriage. But there was none in the whole world that could fulfill her craving for a husband. So she went to her father Miphilphime and begged him in his sacred grove to give her a husband. She bribed him with apples from her tree, which he could not refuse, and so he wrote the word for ghuls upon the dirt. And so ghuls came forth. And she loved the sons of ghul and desired a new one every year, otherwise she would not let the trees bare fruit. And from them came the Vhut, the Woodland peoples. And they were hidden for many years in the woods of the land of the Ghul. Miphilphime had others daughters as well, guardians of memory and inspiration called the Mteli and many great writers and philosophers called upon them for guidance.

The Legend of the Wag-Thur

It all began when the mighty god Humh and the mighty goddess Enca, came together and Enca bore the world. Humh wanted the world to be forever changing and the people to forever wander the face of the earth. Enca wanted the world to always be constant and the people always in the same homes. Humh and Enca had two sons and two daughters and they became the Wag and the Thur. The Wag followed Humh and they raised their sheep upon the valley walls. The Thur followed Enca and they built homes and farms in the valley basin. But Humh and Enca would not come unto one another and so the world began to die until the terrible winter came. And so Humh and Enca came back together and brought their children together too. To protect the world they decided that the world would forever change as Humh wanted it, but they it would be constant change as Enca wanted it, and so the seasons were born. To protect the children, the Wag and the Thur were brought together and they became the Wag-Thur and lived as one people. In the spring they planted crops in the valleys, then took their sheep up into the pastures, then brought them back down for the harvests. The Winter was kept to remind the peoples why they must always stay together. And so they grew prosperous in the land of the Ghul. Enca was very fruitful and by Athium she bore many sons and daughters, guardians of the streams, woods, and secret places called the Wagama. And Humh also had by Orithea the great warrior Xing Tu who destroyed the Troll King of the Northern Forest and Wang the Illustrious upon whose blade the last troll died.


The Legend of the Sohud

The world was made when the mighty overlord of heaven Zedekaphagu killed the monster named Theanna. And from her organs and bones he constructed the world and the peoples there of. And then from Theanna’s soul he crafted the other gods who bowed and paid homage to their new lord. Then Zedek ordered that each of the gods bring him an animal gift. Humh, god of strength, brought him a ram and Zedek took its horns. Athium, god of songs, brought him a fish and Zedek took its scales. Miphilphime, god of wisdom, brought him a raven and he took its wings. And so attired he summoned the three goddesses to pay homage to him with their fires. But Borgia spoke in whispers to her companions and said, “Let us not grant the ancient powers to him, but instead let us find a way to keep them.” And so when Borgia goddess of seas brought her shining torch she hailed Zedek and as she did her torch fell and the light scattered all across the sky and became the stars. Then as Orithea goddess of beauty came with her pot of food, she hailed Zedek and her pot fell and cracked and became the moon. Then when Enca goddess of tents came she did not hail Zedek for she had a rebellious heart and Zedek rose and smote Enca as he smote Theanna and took her glowing cloth of fire placed it in the heavens with the broken pot and the embers of the torch to become the sun, moon, and stars. But then the Lady of the Black Mantel came and restored Enca back to life. And all hailed Zedek for brining light. And when he heard that Borgia was behind the plot, he transformed her lower half into a fish. And then so greatly attired he took the goddess Orithea as wife and from their union the Sohud came and they were the rulers of all Ghulkind.

The Legend of the Cult of Yvena

Long ago there lived a goddess of light called Yvena. And she came to the cold dark earth and brought light to it. Her light that warmed became the goddess Enca and she brought forth the birds and the flying things. The light that illuminated brought forth the goddess Borgia of and she brought forth the swimming things. The light that nourished brought forth the goddess Orithea, and she brought forth the animals of the land. And so the three goddess turned to Yvena and asked her for consorts. So Yvena turned to the Ghul, who had arisen from the flames with her daughters and chose three husbands. She chose a shepherd for Enca, a woodsman for Orithea, and a fisherman for Borgia. Then her children all had children and her grandchildren all had children and they grew in great number. But then the dark lord from the west, Zadek the Evil, attack and killed the high priestess of Yvena named Theanna. And Zedek and his dark people over ran the lands and enslaved the peoples of Yvena and caused all the other gods to become his slaves. And the memory of Yvena was lost and her worship died and she no more aided ghulkind. But then after nearly a thousand years her order was refounded by the descendant of her priestess and her worship again instigated. And so Yvena, the Lady of the Black Mantel grew again in power. And they say once she has enough sacrificial power she will rise and take in all her daughters and become the mighty supreme goddess of all, Yuva and would consume all the evil ones and bring freedom back to Rho Ghul.

The Anger of Borgia

After the great lord Zadek had brought unity and peace to the world, and married the beautiful goddess Orithea, she bore him a son. His son was Bas-Singhul the first emperor of the Ghulkind. And Bas-Singhul had three sons named Bas-Leeghul, Bas-Jinghul, and Bas-Hanghul. And the daughter of Athium and Borgia was named the fair Princess Tylea and was given unto Bas-Leeghul. The daughter of Humh and Enca was the fruitful Princess Jade, and was given unto Bas-Jinghul. The other daughter of Miphilphime was Ainua, but she was evil and would not submit to the son of Bas-Singhul, and so she fled into the forest of her father and was ever after scorned by the gods and men. And so Bas-Hangul was given instead the other daughter of Enca, the serene Princess Cheng’e.

Now the Great Goddess Borgia who had been transformed into a half fish by the mighty lord Zadek had grown angry in her palace beneath the waves. And wielding her powerful magic she called all the waters of the earth to her. And in her anger at the scorn of ghul for laughing at her fish tail, she purposed to send her flooding waters and destroy ghulkind. And the fish rejoiced at taking the dominion of man, and made ready their invasion of the drylands.

But her husband, the good god Athium who loved the ghul, flew fast and warned the son of Zadek. But he refused to listen to the god Athium, saying his father Zadek would have spoken unto him if the goddess Borgia’s threat had been true. And so the god Athium flew unto the daughters of the goddess Enca and the daughter of the goddess Borgia and spoke to them of the goddess’ anger. And so they wept bitterly and persuaded their husbands of the danger.

And so the three sons of the son of Zadek went unto the wise god Miphilphime and sought his wisdom in the sacred glades. And the wise god appeared unto them and warned them to make a large bonfire of straw, a large boat of wood, and a large wall of stone. And so they departed, each to appease the goddess’ wrath and save their people.

And so Prince Jin and Princess Jade gathered all the people of the farmlands and all the wandering shepherd peoples and the peoples of the tent. And each family brought a large bundle of straw. And once all the straw was placed upon the alter built for Borgia, the straw was set ablaze and the priestess of Borgia called upon her mistress to see the flames. And the great goddess Borgia came upon a great wave unto the valley and her eyes blazed as she saw the fire. And so she caused rain to fall upon it and upon their lands and blessed their lands and their people and their crops and their animals and made a sacred vow not to bring her wrath upon the peoples of the valley.

Then Prince Han and Princess Chenge’e raised a great stone wall all about the great forest and meadows of the upper lands. And the great stone wall was built by the race of giants from the north so that none could pass it. And it ran from the great northern most mountain to the valley wall. And so they would wait until the waves would come and protect their peoples and forest from the great wrath of Borgia.

But the Prince Lee and Princess Tylea of the coast went unto the great shrine of the great goddess Borgia and suplimented her there to appease her wrath. The goddess would not be appeased and so the prince and princess gathered all their people and instructed them to build boats of wood not bamboo as they had been, and gather all their loved ones and possessions on board. And the people did as their prince commanded them and began living upon the seas upon their boats so that they may learn the ways of the sea.

And then in the tenth month of the moon, the waters that the Great Goddess Borgia had summons had all arrived and were ready and the fish and their kind had made ready for war. And so the ocean went to war with the land. First they came against the people of Khus upon their boats. But because they no longer lived upon land the waters did not harm them. Only the foolish who had not built boats were destroyed. As the waters flooded over Khus it then came to the valley of the Wag-Thur. But because of her promise the valley was not touched and so the waters moved further. And then they came unto the wall of Vhut. And the water hammered against the wall but could not prevail. The waters and the fish were angered and the great goddess Borgia grew fierce.

And then the northern part of the wall which was built in haste was breached, and the northern meadow lands were flooded and many perished. But the middle and southern forest lands were not touched. And so the waters continued past the meadow lands until it came to the great platue of the Sohud and there were the emperor had not listened to the words of Athium the great city fell to the flood and the others did as well. And so the goddess Borgia’s anger was stilled and she withdrew her waters to the western lands and there they became the Sea of Borgia. And immediately afterward, the great trade guild built a temple to Borgia there and on the coast and so garnished favor from her and she became goddess over the trade routes as well.

The Birth of Khan the Great

Now the first emperor had died in the Flood of Borgia, but his favored son had survived and so Hanghul and Empress Chenge’e came to power. And they ruled with much grace and dignity. They had a son named Hunghul who had a son named Hulghul who had a son named Hangul II who had a son named Hunghul II who died without a legitimate heir. And so Linghul III, son of Lang II, son of Lee III, son of Ling II, son of Lang I, son of Lee II, son of Ling I, son Prince Lee I and Princess Tylea became the new emperor. And Linghul began expanding the empire into the lands beyond the Sea of Borgia.

And after a thousand years of peace under the Vhut Emperors, the Ghul warred brother against brother when the Khus Emperor seized the land of a high prince of the Wag-Thur clan. The Wag-Thur and the Empire warred for many years in the First War of the Cherry Orchard. But the Wag-Thur, seeing the great strength of the empire feared and made a treaty with the humans. And the Emperor of Alexandria aided the Wag-Thur against the Empire and so humans and ghul were at war.

And after centuries of battle and three wars of the Cherry Orchards the beautiful Goddess Orithea came unto a strong general and begat with him a son, named Khan the Small. And Khan left the encampment of his father when he was young and journeyed across the Empire. And Khan came to the sea shore and there he met the god Athium playing a dirge upon his lyre for his children dying in the west. And he taught all his trickery unto Khan who became known then as Khan the Agile.

And so he journeyed further into the east and there he came to the forest of the god Miphilphime the Wise. And Khan the Agile played the dirge of Athium in the grove of Miphilphime and so the daughter of Miphilphime named Ainua fell in loved with Khan. And Miphilphime peering into the future of the youth saw his greatness and so the two were wed. And Khan learned from his new father in law all the secret things of the world. And so Khan was known as Khan the Wise. And he journeyed yet still along the ruins of the great wall until he came unto the Sea of Borgia and there he found the Goddess Borgia in her Temple, decked in the gold of ages. And she gave him a great gift, the golden bow and arrow of Zadek, with which he had overthrown the ancient ones.

Then Khan journeyed still further to the valley and there he found the god Humh moving the mighty boulders and making earthquakes in his rage at the foolish war of the orchards. And so he blessed Khan the Wise with great strength so that he could even command the earthquakes and deep places. So Khan journeyed back to the west.

And he passed through the haunted Canyons of Yvl, where the screams of her victims could still be heard. And he came upon an old woman in a dark mantel. And because of his wisdom he bowed and did not look upon her face. Then she caused the canyon walls to fall upon him but he held them up. Then she turned into a writhing serpent and went to strangle the warrior. But he foresaw her trickery and held her by her jaws so she could not destroy him. Then she became a woman again and spoke unto the man and said that he was indeed worthy to end the foolish war. And so she sent him to bring about an end. And Khan the great came to the place of the orchard and dug his hands deep into the earth and pulled up the high mountains and they were called the Pillars of Heaven for the reached even unto the clouds of heaven.

And Khan was remembered as the greatest warrior of the Ghulkind and was venerated throughout the lands. And the gods were well pleased with him and so the lady of the black mantel placed him in the heavens with his mighty bow.

The Tale of Xin the Bard

After the great wars were over the peoples began rebuilding their homes. And the new emperor Linghul XII was kind and generous to his people. But in the twentieth year of his illustrious rule, the Great Dragon-God of Ice and Evil descended upon the plains of Sohud and the land groaned with its evil. This ancient demon had been sent by the lady of the black mantel to demand retribution for the evils done by the Ghullian soldiers during the wars. And the beast destroyed many and great harm was done unto the empire.

Even the great gods cringed before the evil of the beast. And none could draw near it for fear of its great power. The great god Zadek was smote by the beast and cast down, killed by its jaws of iron. And the goddess Orithea was kept in its claws. The land began to die and the cattle no longer brought forth the kid. The grain did not grow neither did the trees bare fruit. And the people waxed thin and lean and starved daily by the hundreds.

Then the goddess Enca, angered at her seasons so being disrupted searched for Khan’s heir, the great granddaughter of the hero of the war. And she found the maid Xin, sitting neath her cherry tree singing songs of the heroes of old. The goddess appeared to Xin and sent her to destroy the beast. All feared for Xin’s life as she was no warrior but merely a temple bard who sang her songs to Enca and the Lady of the Black Mantel.

And so as she drew near the beast who had slain the great god Zadek, she brought forth a mighty sword, an ancient weapon forged by Humh, and struck at the Dragon-God. But he would not let her slay her for she was not the one destined to slay him. And so she instead brought forth her lyre, and began to sing a song. And it was a powerful and ancient song and the great dragon began to grow weary. And she sang even more and he fell asleep.

Then the maid Xin took the Dragon and cast him into the far eastern sea. And he sunk below the surface and where he lay a great maelstrom was awoken. And the maelstrom raged for as long as the Dragon lay sleeping. And Xin the Bard was extolled above all heroes. But the lady of the black mantel was angered at her and so transformed her into an eagle, to forever watch over the maelstrom and the sleeping dragon-god.


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so there you go!
And yes I do need to find a life... :)

The Prayer of 'Erg'

Well after that last post of course I would get convicted again...

And reminded of the age old command,

"Love your enemies, do good to them that hate you, pray for them that despitefully use you or persicute you."

So all I can say is "erg!" out of frustration...

Dear Lord,

Help the despised one to have an epiphany about the true nature of the rose. Help him to get an 'ivory tower' perspective on her winking eyes and wandering gaze. Let him expand in wisdom and knowledge and may his eyes be open to understanding so that he may save himself from plummeting to his death. Help us to remain faithful and loving servants of you and show that same faithful love towards him, even though he does not deserve it, for you also loved us even when we did not deserve your love. Lord, give strength to the faithful one, and bless him for his endurance. Lord, give healing to the tall one whose pain remains locked in secret places of his heart. Lord, bring maturity to the rose, so that its gaze stops wandering and its heart be turned only to you. Lord, give the despised one humility and a brainstem.

Amen.


Okay thats my best attempt. You can't say I didn't try. :D

To the Despised One

O, foolish boy, you dare to say
That you are a man but act this way
Think not the secret thing is hid
For I know well the things you did

I gazed down form the ivory tower
And beheld the scarlet rose’s bower
And many faces hungered to drink
From the drunk lips and eyes that wink

I saw as you drew near the others
You smote all friends, foes, and brothers
And with their blood upon your brow
You climbed the bower as you do now

But then in the bower of the rose
As you reached out and drew so close
From your hands the blood was torn
As you felt the bite of the rose’s thorn

And fall you did from the rosy height
And the ones you smote mocked your plight
I saw as justice rewarded your lust
And your name was lowered to the dust

But, O foolish boy, you did not learn
For in the secret you still did yearn
And I saw your gaze most foul did fall
Upon the rose and the new one so tall

And when gone was he who took your place
In secret you entered shaming his face
And still more you stabbed some in the back
And with words and deeds you did attack

How I longed then to slap your face
Upon mankind you are our highest disgrace
For with calloused words you tore down all
So that you may seem higher and not so small

Oh little man, you went too far
And I saw what you did in your war
The tall one may have already left
But your acts so vile were worse than theft

For this rose you now climb to take
Was not grown for your selfish sake
But was planted with purpose and plan
To belong someday to a real man

The one who waits so silent but true
With so much character that even of you
He will not speak evil or bring reproof
Enduring, persevering, seeming aloof

But I am his friend and the rose’s brother
I am the bower guard set by the mother
And I have seen you slithering so near
Come to steel what many hold so dear

And now I tell you, oh vile and decrepit,
Be you as subtle or cloying insipid
I will throw you from this high recess
And break body and soul into pieces

O, foolish boy, you dare to say
That you are a man but act this way
The day is coming and is now near
When truth will shine, your lies disappear

Daisies in the Mists

Here you go Hannah. Your short story as requested. Its very morbid but has a slightly happy ending. What was funny was that I couldn't think of a good plot until I turned off all the lights in my room and lit a few earie candles for effect. And then there is the fact that a heavy blanket of mist has been over my house all day. Creepy! Anyway, I went through a lot of trouble so enjoy. :D

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Daisies in the Mists

There is a cemetery. A cemetery that I pass everyday on my way to work. And no matter what time of day it is, no matter what the weather is like, no matter what the season may be, there is a constant mist over this cemetery that I pass everyday on my way to work. On warm summer days passing into the sudden mist is chilling and cool and inviting, but on rainy winter days the mist is cloying, trapping, disorientating and strange. It was on one such early winter day that it happened.

We were driving to go somewhere. In retrospect I can’t even remember where but it doesn’t seem that important anymore. As we drove down the winding road, we neared the spot and I casually turned to Kyle who was driving and remarked on the perpetual mist that always covered the cemetery. A snort came from Julie in the back at the preposterous notion but René who was sitting next to her griped their seat and asked in a slightly excited voice.

“Do you think it’s haunted? That would be so scary! Oh my gosh we have to stop and go look!”

“Please, we are not stopping to go into some muddy cemetery just because it’s foggy!” said Julie irritably.

“Don’t insult the cemetery. You might make whoever is haunting it mad.” I said sarcastically.

René who didn’t understand sarcasm turned on the laughing Kyle, “He’s right! You shouldn’t laugh!”

“René, Jack was being sarcastic. He doesn’t really care about a stupid cemetery.” Kyle said still laughing.

And then it happened. The engine died suddenly just as we neared the entrance to the cemetery. It was a small one lane road and we were afraid that a car might not see us in the mists so Kyle and I got out and pushed the car into the only place out of the way, the entrance to the cemetery. The girls got out and stood by while Kyle began to look under the hood.

“Looks like it overheated somehow.” Kyle said pulling on tubes and opening valves. “Guess we just have to wait until we can drive.”

“Alright, well it looks like you got your wish.” Julie said with a nod at René.

“Um, on second though, why don’t we just stay by the car.” René said nervously.

“Hey guys! Come look at this.” I called from a few yards away.

I had found a relatively new tombstone with fresh dirt on it. We all gathered round and read the inscription above the moldy rotten flowers. It was dated just a few days before and read:

Here lies Lee Rogerson
Died tragically
in sugar bowl accident

There were a few snickers from Julie and Kyle but René seemed genuinely sad at the poor man’s fate. She walked to the next one and began to tear up. Julie came and stood next to her, her voice low as she read:

“Darold Rogerson
3 years old
Drowned”

“Come on lets go back to the car.” Kyle said, seeing the effect that the tombstone writing was having on René and Julie.

“Wait. You know what we use to do when I was a kid.” I said trying to get her mind off the tombstone, “We use to go looking for the oldest tombstone in the cemetery whenever we went to place flowers on my grandfather’s grave.”

“That sounds like fun.” Kyle said beginning to scan tombstones as he walked along the avenues of the dead.

“Here’s a 1947 one!” called Julie stooped over one.

“I found a 1922 and a 1924! Awe, they died two years apart. And they each have a heart on their tombstone. That’s so cute.” René said looking at two rose colored ones.

“Um… guys.” came Kyle’s call from far off in the mists. “I think I win. I found three 1890s ones.”

We all went searching for Kyle in the mists. I stumbled along one of the white paths when I heard the scream. It sounded like Julie. Kyle, René, and I called out as we ran through the mists until we finally came to large leafless oak tree with a small black tombstone in the cool grey mists. Julie was sitting beneath the tree staring in horror at the tombstone.

René ran and held her shaking form while I tried talking to her and find out what was wrong. Then Kyle read in a shaky voice the inscription on the stone.

Here lies Julie Taylor
Who got lost in the mists
And was never seen again

“I told you! I told you we shouldn’t have come here!” Said Julie shaking.

“Its alright. Here, lets go back to the car. It should be all better by now.” Kyle said giving her his arm to lean on.

We walked back through the silver mist. The white wall seemed to be endless and soon the path we were on came to a solid wall of the cemetery. We turned around and walked back the other way but the oak and the tombstone wasn’t there. That’s when we realized we were lost.

“Oh my gosh! This is the same wall!” Cried Julie as she ran up to it, “How did we get turned around?! There were no other paths or anything!?!”

“Maybe it’s the mists.” Came René’s reply, tired and slow, “Maybe it wants to show us something.”

“René, get back here! Don’t wander off the path! You’ll get lost!” I called.

“We’re already lost.” Julie said obtusely.

We followed the wall and René who was leading us until we came to a different path, covered in moss. We walked along it until we came to a small gate that was rusted over. Inside there were three tombstones, large and ornate. The middle one said:

Jonathan Andrew Therris
Successful Businessman
Obedient Son
Caring Father
Husband
1834-1896

The next one was the smallest of the three and was clearly a child’s. It seemed older than the other two and had been carved with much care and diligence.

James Andrew Therris
Beautiful boy
Light of his mothers life
Looked like his father
1869-1878

The last one was covered in an elaborate script that curved and wound all around like ivy. It had carvings of birds and vines all around it and at its apse it had a carving of a daisy missing one petal. It said:

My soul torn
My secret kept
Of smiles worn
And tears wept
Here lies all
Wrapped in stone
Reveal the small
Flower alone
Look to the east
Find me there
All he asked for
Was a lock of hair

We all looked at each other with fear. The mists seamed to be agitated and the wind sounded like a wailing howl. The date on the tombstone attested that she had died last of all. We didn’t know what to say or do, when Kyle saw it.

“Look, the tombstone of the boy. It has a small daisy carved on it too. Right here on the back at the upper right corner.”

We all gathered around and looked at the small carving. No one else but Kyle with his attention to detail would have seen it. Then rereading the poem again we checked the man’s tombstone. There was no flower anywhere.

“Well, what do you suppose we do now René?” Asked Julie still terrified.

“What the poem said. Lets look to the east.” She said matter-of-factly.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” I asked skeptically.

“The moss of course.” Kyle said motion towards the moss covered stones.

We plodded in the direction Kyle pointed to. Soon we were just barely able to make out the three tombstones we had come from. And then we reached it. It was the oak. The one with the black tombstone. Julie began to hyperventilate again but we steadied her as we drew near. The writing had changed. Now it said:

James Harrison
Humble Blacksmith
Never married
Died young

“That’s it?” asked Kyle skeptically getting closer to the stone.

“And the same daisy.” Said René as she pointed to the back.

We all turned and looked and saw the same daisy as before, but this time the petal was falling towards the base of the stone. Kyle knelt down and placed his hand on the ground. Then he suddenly brushed away the dirt to reveal a solid steel plate. It said:

Here lies my master
The blacksmith so true
Who fell in love with a woman
And then married her too
But her father was wealthy
And did not consent
The girl was given to another
The blacksmith’s lament
For when he tried to save her
And carry her away
They stopped him, they shot him
The price he did pay
His dying breath was strong
And he commanded me
Peace will come only when
I’ve given her a daisy

We all stood in shock and wander at this secret so fierce. The dates of his death was slightly before the birth of the boy and the daisy on his tombstone spoke volumes. And then we saw it. Here, where all the other flowers had decayed in days, was a single daisy lying on his cold grave, fresh as if it had just been picked. I picked it up and we ran back to the three stones. Quietly and reverently I placed it upon the grave of the woman.

The next instant we heard a gravelly voice behind us, “Hey, is that you kid’s blue car in the drive way?”

We turned to see an old man with white hair and a cabby cap on his head walk out of the mists. He was thin and bent over walking with a cane and carrying a shovel over his shoulder.

“Um. Yes our car overheated and we needed to let it cool down.” Kyle said dreamily.

“We got lost in the mists.” Said René with a puzzled look on her face.

“Oh, well that’s a good thing I found ya then! Wouldn’t want you getting lost here now would we?” He asked in a sinister voice.

As he had been speaking the mists began to pull away slowly and the sun shown down on the green grass. Small dandelions that had been closed opened their golden heads and he looked around astonished. We saw that this whole time we had been only a few feet away from the entrance and our car.

“Well now, you young uns better be getting off. You’ve done enough damage for one day.” he scowled.

And so we got back in the car and drove off. Kyle and René seemed to be happy and chipper like nothing happened and the more and more we talked the more it became apparent that they didn’t remember anything. I exchanged a look with Julie and we both caught our breath as we suddenly passed by an old Blacksmith museum, the daisies all around it still in bloom even in the early winter.

The Two Horsemen: The Journey Begins

Well as I have been writing short stories and novels I decided to try my hand at writing a novella. Actually, this wasn't deliberate. I began writing this as a short story and then it just grew longer and longer. This is Part I, and there will probably be either 3 or 5 parts, kinda like chapters. And while there is a somewhat slightly deeper meaning to it, it is NOT am allegory like Gaurded Ember. Well, not entirely... its more an exploration of difrent means to the same ends... you'll just have to read to find out. :D

The Journey Begins

The two figures in the long tan cloaks moved along the winding road as the first rays of the sun turned the sky from the deep blue to violet. The white moon still hung on the horizon as they trotted upon their horses, the beautiful spring day alive with larks and buds ready to burst forth in the cold fresh air. They two slowed their pace and stopped as they neared a fork in the road.

“We are here.” Said the first, removing his cloak to reveal a head of dirty blond hair, his green eyes scanning the fork.

“Well then, I guess this is good bye, brother.” Said the other, revealing a matching dirty blond head of hair and equal green eyes.

The twin brothers looked at each other in the silence of the morning. Their paths were separating and they knew not what awaited them down the roads. Each pleaded with the other to join him, not to take the other path, all without saying a word. Then as both realized their wills were too strong, they simply turned on their horses and departed in the early morning silence.

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The one rode a pure white mare with deep violet eyes. The horse pranced along the path that went straight and true, the tall alders on either side like pillars that let shafts of sunlight cascade across the path. He sat high upon his horse and held the reigns tightly to ensure that nothing would deter him from his course. As he rode his mind wandered back onto his brother.

How could he be so foolish, he thought to himself. If he had only listened to me he would realize that this path is a better one to take.

“I mean look.” He spoke to his horse, “Sophia, you can tell that this path runs completely straight and true, down to the sea. The trees on either side protect us from wild animals and from the lurking unnamed and unseen things that prowl and feed on travelers. Even the wind and rain will have difficulty reaching in here. Why did he have to take that other road?”

The white horse turned her head slightly as if she were speaking to him through her eyes, but kept her steady pace as they continued on towards the far of shore and the large ebony boat that had been sent by their father to take them home.

“You’re right. Soon we will reach the cross roads and there he’ll have another chance to realize his foolishness.”

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The other brother rode upon a gelding of golden chestnut hue with mane and tale black and eyes that were a deep living brown and brimmed with laughter. His hands were buried deep in his horse’s mane, leaning forward so that his heart beat against the warm soft fur of his companion. He scanned the winding path they were on as he spoke softly to his steed.

“Well what do you think Phil? Will we be able to make it to the sea?” He asked as his eyes fell on the hard, rocky path covered with brambles and burs and thorns.

Phil began to trot forward and as he did the hard black stones beneath them shattered like glass, sending splintering shards everywhere. Phil whinnied and back trotted a little before he calmed down enough. The man placed his hand softly on the horse’s neck and spoke reassuringly to his friend.

“There, there. It’s okay. We’ll just take it nice and slowly.” and they began their journey anew, “See, it’s alright. Let’s make for the turn up ahead. I think I see a place in the rock wall there where we can make camp and rest for the night.”

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As Sophia and her master continued down the long straight path, the sun began to set behind them and the moon rose white and brilliantly in the evening sky ahead of them. They rode on until they came to a large oak with brilliant golden leaves which glowed softly and emitted a warmth and the savory smell of a campfire.

“Ah. A fire oak. This will do nicely for a camp.” He got down and tied his horse down to a branch so she could graze around the area but not wander off. He settled down beneath the warm tree with his back against the heated bark. He closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to meditate upon the day and its events.

He opened an eye and looked over to Sophia who was staring at him with her violet eyes, “No, sleep is for the weak. I am concentrating so please keep your thoughts to yourself!”

Sophia seemed to roll her eyes and then continued nibbling on the herbs and flowers that grew lusciously beneath the broad branches of the warm oak tree. Her ears twitched as she heard the far off call of owls and nightingales and the cracking of twigs as something lurked in the shade of the wood.

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The two made it to the cave just as the sunset. As Phil and his companion entered they suddenly became very aware that they were not alone. The man reached into his traveling bag and took out an unlit torch, then tapped it three times against the rock wall. The wiry end of the torch burst into bluish flames which filled the cave with a cold light.

“Who’s there?” he called holding up the torch and tapping its base against the wall.

The torch became brighter and the flames turned from blue to green to yellow and cast their rays deeper into the darkness of the cave. Then suddenly two figures came running towards them. Before he could even think or make out any detail he saw the gleam of a knife. His eyes widened and his breathe caught as he reached back towards Phil.

The gelding raised himself up on his hind legs and whinnied loud and fiercely. He came down hard shattering the black stones like glass and sending the shards flying towards the attackers. Both were hit and fell to the ground. The long curved steel knife also clattered to the floor of the cave and Phil kicked it out with a snort.

“Good job Phil.” He said patting the horse’s back then laughed, “Yes, definitely warranting an apple. Here you go.” He said tossing one out of the bag.

The two figures on the ground groaned and one stood up holding a bump on his head where a rock had hit him squarely. He was a thin, old man, with a scowl on his wrinkled and wart covered face. He had three brown teeth left in his mouth and he smelled like a pig farm. He spat before he spoke,

“Eh! Eh! Youss neee tek niff! Yousss nee heet Sanlah!” He spoke angrily and prepared to rise to strike Phil’s companion with his bony fist.

Phil reared up again and the old man ducked down cowering and covering his head. The man motioned for Phil to stand down and seemed to be looking into the horses eyes as some unspoken message passed between them. The horse nodded and went out of the cave to graze on some of the hard fibrous brambles outside.

“Now then. Don’t worry. Phil won’t hurt you. Did you say your name is Sanlah?” He asked the cowering old man.

Next to the man a small girl stood up. Her hair was dark and wild and unkept and her fierce black eyes glowed with a rebellious rage. She spoke for herself and the man, “This is Sanler. He is my grandfather. We were in the cave first. We thought you were the unseen ones. My grandfather say he wants the knife that is his back. The name that is mine are Prophana.”

“Well, I am sorry about this. Are you both alright?” Asked the man.

“Sanler say he want knife back. He say we in cave first. You find other cave.” She said after hearing a babble of speech from her grandfather.

“Alright. Sorry. We’ll be moving on then.” And with that he left the cave and went to find another place for him and Phil to spend the night.

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The next morning Sophia and her master rode further on, stopping only when it was time for the ritual cleansings. The rode was easy to follow, but there were designated shrines and springs along the way that her master stopped at to perform the cleansing ceremony. She rolled her eyes some more but said nothing.

Soon they were on the road again and the bright spring day heralded beautifully the arrival of baby birds and blossoming buds on all the trees in the forest. As they rode on, suddenly an old man crashed through the alders on the path. He was gaunt and pale and dressed in rags that barely covered his shame. He held a sharp steel knife and babbled fiercely as he advanced towards the horse and her master.

“What is he saying?” Asked the man, then after a few seconds he said, “Alright, I get it! If those are the only words he insists on repeating then I would rather not know! Now I’ll have to purify my ears too at the next shrine!”

The babbling man with the steel knife advanced closer. The man upon Sophia took a deep breath then spoke in a loud reverberating voice that seemed to shake the very ground, “Thou shalt not advance any further, oh groveling child of evil! Thou hast chosen thine fate! Now shalt thou feel the fury of heaven for thine evil deeds!”

And pointing to the man, the world suddenly started getting brighter, as if light was coming out of the very seams of time and space. The old man clawed as his face and screamed as the light surrounded him and then suddenly it was all over. And where the old man had stood now was a large white column. The man reached out and touched it lightly and the column disintegrated into a large pile of whitish glassy sand.

“No, I did not over do it.” He said turning on Sophia, “Not after the things he said. Now come on. We need to find a spring fast. I feel so dirty just being in this fools presence.”

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Phil and his companion had woken up to the bright sunny morning only to find the girl Prophana at their feet, kneeling as she whimpered softly. It seems she had been there all night long. The man reached out and asked, “What’s the matter little girl?”

“My grandfather. He leave me in cave. Say he go to find money. I know he not come back.”

“There, its okay. Would you like to travel with us down to the sea? It’s always better to travel together and I know there is room enough on the ship for you if you’d like.”

The girl with the tears on her cheeks nodded and then buried her face in his shoulder as she wept more. Her dirty face and grimy hands wiped on the tan cloak of the man and she looked much better after having the good long cry. And so he placed her behind him on Phil and they set out on the path.

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Sophia trotted along as she watched her master from the corner of her eye fixing his wet hair after dunking his head beneath the water of the sacred pool several times. She tried not to grunt with laughter as he struggled in vain to make himself presentable, only to realize he had gotten a spot of dirt on his cloak.

“Don’t laugh! Don’t you realize what this means! I must be presentable when we reach the sea! I have to keep this cloak clean! It was given to me specially by my father!”

The horse listened to him go on and on but her attention was elsewhere. In the far off distance she saw the low dark grey clouds begin to roll in. She sniffed the air and could smell the thunder on the wind. Her master was still going on about his cloak when she interrupted his thoughts.

There is a storm coming. We should seek shelter, she thought.

“Hm.” He said thinking then taking his rigorous straight pose he spoke, “We will continue. We will be able to weather any storm and we must make it to the cross roads before dark.”

For someone so wise you are very foolish sometimes, she thought.

“Remember I am the master and you are the horse. We will continue. I know we can make it.”

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“This storm looks like its going to be pretty bad.” Said the man on Phil’s back. “We should find some shelter. We wouldn’t want either of you to catch cold.”

Then getting down he helped Prophana down from Phil. The horse seemed to whiny and pace several times in the hard stone path. Phil and his companion locked eyes for a few seconds and Prophana watched them with furrowed brow.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I was asking Phil if there were any places nearby that we could shelter in. He said there aren’t so it looks like we’ll have to take shelter in the song.” He said smiling and sitting down on the hard grey stone.

“What do you mean?” Asked the girl confused.

“Here sit down.” He said and Phil lowered himself too.

Then the young man began to sing a song, that began slow and steady and built up with more passion and emotion. Prophana felt herself drawn to the ground, as if she wanted to get as low as possible, to lie on her face in submission to something. Something the song was singing about. The next instant the rain began to fall, but even though it fell all around them it didn’t fall within the circle created by their bodies.

“Is, is it magic?” Asked Prophana wide eyed.

“No.” Smiled the man, “The rain is very reverent. It realizes who is with us and it would never fall upon him.”

“Who?” She asked breathlessly, reaching her hand into the rain falling next to them.

“My older brother.” He smiled with a twinkle of a secret in his eyes. “Or at least his spirit anyway. When we reach the sea you will be able to meet him in person.”

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Sophia plodded on through the rain and the mud. She shot a venomous glance back towards her master, but he pretended not to hear her thought. He continued to sit and try to keep his noble air about him as he clenched the reigns tightly. He was soaked to the bone and sat sulking on Sophia.

Why don’t we seek shelter, or at least sing the song, she thought.

We need to get to the cross roads before dark, he said sullenly.

Why, they’ll still be there tomorrow morning, she snorted.

That’s what I’m afraid of, he sighed inwardly.

Oh, I get it, you’re afraid that if we get there before your brother he’ll think you were wrong about your straight path being faster. Is that it, she thought pointedly.

No, that’s not it at all. I wouldn’t expect a horse to understand, he thought defensively, besides the rain is good. It cleanses and brings greater purity. It is a trail to be enjoyed and endured with much thankfulness and grace.

Sophia simply shook her head and continued on. She had long since realized that the muddiness of the path was slowing them so much and the flow of the rain was so strong that they were barely making progress at all.

Somewhat similar to trying to reason with him, she thought to herself.

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It was early morning before the rains had stopped. The sun was blowing color into the sky as bird calls filled the woods. In a quite sort of place, where the stones were all grey and the woods began to thin out, two roads came together and crossed one another. At the place of the crossroads a small pole with a carving had been set up.

Upon one side of the road the clack of horse hooves on hard rock came faintly at first over the morning sounds of spring. The horse and its riders drew near the crossroads and smiled as he looked up the path that went straight and true to the sea. Coming towards them was another horse and rider. The two animals made eye contact.

You seem somewhat wet, he thought laughingly.

At least my hooves don’t look like I’ve been hacking at them with swords, she thought back.

The road we travel on has brittle glass stones. When I step on them they shatter, he thought grimly.

My master in all his wisdom refused to seek shelter last night so that we may be purified by the rain, she smirked.

That’s enough you two, came a third mysterious thought, they will soon be close enough to hear what you’re saying about them.

The horses remained silent as they neared the crossroad. Sophia’s master raised his soaked head and an eyebrow as he saw the girl on Phil’s back. Before he could say anything the other man called out to his twin brother.

“Dannan, how goes the straight path?”

“Fine. I see you have an addition Milos.”

“Yes, this is Prophana. She’s going to the sea with me.”

Dannan seemed to think that over with knit brow, but didn’t say anything. Then he simply hoped down from Sophia and Milos followed suite. The two brothers clasped hands in greeting and immediately around them a large tent unfolded. Prophana’s eyes widened and the two horses entered with her. Inside it was lavish, with a large fireplace and comfortable chairs. A table was set with three places and a banquet of food was ready.

“Come let us speak as we break bread.” Said Dannan magnanimously.

“Alright. Sophia and Phil, I left a special treat for you over by the fire. I know how much you both like Silverian apples.”

And so the first part of their journey had ended and the two paths had come together. But what awaited them was still far off down the paths they had chosen to take and none knew what would come with the morrow.

BRAND NEW Chapter 1

Well, after a long hiatus I am finally back with the story. I know most people will probably no longer even be intrested in reading it so I won't be posting anything past the third chapter. I more just wanted to give you a feel for the new characters and the setting, etc. Feedback please. :)

Chapter 1

“Wake up boy!” Came the gruff call into the bedroom, still dark in the early morning hours, “Hurry!”

The man yanked the drowsy boy from beneath his covers and then tossed him a black woolen cloak. As the boy pulled it over his head he felt the icy stone floor beneath his feet and scampered under the bed to retrieve his shoes. As he pulled them on he looked up at the stranger and asked confused.

“W-what’s going on? Who are you?”

“There’s no time. They will be here soon. No, don’t put those on. Put on your boots. You’re going to need them.”

The boy was barely registering anything, the pre-morning blue light disorienting him as the two of them ran outside. His quick brown eyes scanned the scene in front of him. Small groups of children attired in similar black cloaks as his were all standing around looking frightened, while one girl was wailing loudly in her mother’s arms.

“Grisela, be good now.” The woman spoke comforting “Go with the guardians. They will keep you safe. Do as they say now.”

“But mama! I don’t want to leave!” She cried all the more.

“Dear, there’s no time. You must go. Don’t be frightened. Your papa and I will be here waiting when you get back.”

And with that the boy watched as they gave a parting hug, the girl’s eyes leaving wet imprints on her mother’s shoulder. Then one of the robed guards came and took her away with the rest, down the winding path that led away from the small village at the foot of the alpine mountain.

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The fat greasy man with his slicked oily hair and dirty stained clothes waddled through the streets full of people in the large city. A black carriage nearly ran him over and splashed cold dirty water from the cobble stone street onto him. He yelled and cursed at the receding buggy and then walked across the street and into a carved stone archway of a building. He paid his entrance fee to the man at the front who instantly recognized him and growled. The fat man walked into the dimly lit arena that may have once been a theater and sat in a booth behind the rows of benches.

A few minutes later several others had joined the crowd, all waiting with eager anticipation. Two fierce dogs were released from some hidden cages and met with viciousness in the center ring. Yelps, growls, and barks echoed as men cheered and bets were placed with the betting officer who was making his rounds.

The fat man in the back squinted as he made sure no one was looking at him, then sat behind a rough wooden table and took out a pack of black cards. He shuffled them, muttering something under his breath and then fanned them out over the table. He counted, sixteen cards, and then turned over the seventeenth. A strange silver rune was marked on the card’s face. He traced it with his finger, muttering and giving a hacking cough. Then with a flourish of his hands he gathered the cards and placed them in his pocket. He placed his wager on the smaller animal, a large sum and a risky bet. Then he left to go find something to drink; he needed something stronger than ditch water.

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The children walked in single file through the long golden grass. A white mist had settled over the world, obscuring its features and dulling its edges. Some children were softly whimpering with fear, others shaking as their teeth chattered with cold, wrapping the black wool cloaks about them.

The leader, a dark tan man with a scar over his left eye, black stubble across his face, and long tangled curly hair raised his gloved hand. He motioned to the children to be silent, then lowered himself flat and began creeping away from the path into the long grass.

The boy sat watching mesmerized as he saw the gentle swaying of the grass, as if a stray breeze was simply rippling through it ever so slowly. Then he noticed a similar swaying coming towards them. The two ripples grew closer and closer when suddenly both disappeared.

There were a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. The boy watched and waited, hoping desperately to see the leader stand up at any moment with his head barely above the tall grass. Then suddenly the ripple started again, slithering closer and closer. It was coming straight for the path where the boy stood, but he couldn’t move. The next moment he felt a large strong hand cover his mouth and hold in the cry that escaped from his throat. The leader had retuned; and he wasn’t alone.

A man had crept out with him. He was dressed in black like the rest of them but instead of hair, he had strange marks and symbols on his head that extended down to his eyes. But his eyes were what scared the boy. They had a dangerous light in them, a light that showed he had killed many before and would easily kill anyone who needed to be killed.

“This is Sato. He is a scout from the other villages. He will lead us to the camp grounds.”

The boy wondered why the leader was telling him this, but before he could ask, Sato sniffed the air and his eyes seemed to burn with hatred. He made several motions with his hands to the leader, who grew very grave as he spoke.

“We must move. Quickly! We are being tracked by Styx!”

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In the beautiful mountain village of Luca, small groups of people in long dark clothes huddled together in fear as they watched the ominous presence draw near. They stood before the brick homes with slate roofs that were small but sturdy as they awaited their fate.

A hard metallic boot covered with sharp claws and blades came down hard on the stone path, crushing rocks into powder. A cape of grey wool overlaid with dull chainmail dragged like a heavy lifeless body behind the terrifying figure, scraping a trail in the dust. Fear registered on ever face as the dreaded voice spoke, sounding like three voices speaking at once.

“So, you mean to tell me that in the last twenty years not a single child has been born?”

A small bald man with small wrinkled hands clutched together spoke in a trembling faint voice, “Your Excellency. We would never lie to you. Mankind is growing weak. Our blood thins daily. Most men cannot father children anymore, and those that can… their wives can no longer carry them to term. The only children you will find are the ones buried in the graveyard, stillborn all.”

“Is that so?” Asked the figure, accentuating every word, “Then why do I smell the tears of a child?”

Several nervous glances looked at the woman who was desperately trying to hide the marks her daughter had left that morning on her shoulder. The figure walked closer, sniffing the air, a dangerous mace in its hand.

“You are all lying!” Came the roar as the armored one raised the enormous weapon.

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The fat man returned to his table and sat down with a groan and another hacking cough. He cursed as he tried to regain composure after his coughing fit, the betting officer at his table. The officer was a thin, pale, pasty man with two small silver spectacles perched so far down his nose they looked as if they were going to dive off the edge at any second.

“Mmmm.” He spoke in his high nasally voice, “Mr. Stultor, you seem to have made yet another winning wager… against all odds.”

“Huhh! Whe’s my marney!” The dirty fat man slurred.

“Here you are sir. The rooster fight will begin next. Do you wish to wager now or after the animals are presented.”

“Latah. Right now, I need anodah drink.” He said with a cough.

“Of course sir.” Said the nasally voice and walked away.

The fat man looked again to make sure he wasn’t being watched then took the cards out again. He fanned the deck and began counting again, but as his hand touched the sixteenth card, a small petite hand of a woman fell on the seventeenth.

“Hmmm. That’s an interesting deck of cards you have there.” Spoke the low sultry voice.

“Hey! Ge lossst!” He said as he reached for the woman’s wrist.

In an instant, the room seemed to grow darker. The walls seemed to curve and bend and buckle as they formed a circular structure around the two. A curtain moved by itself, covering the window of the fat man’s booth so no one could see what was happening. The candles set out for later that night all flickered to life casting a mysterious golden light and amplifying the shadows. The man’s eyes seemed to widen for a moment before he shook himself to awareness and gave a malicious grin.

“Ha! Witch you should not have meddled with me today! Do not think me some peasant with a deck! I am magician from the order of Insular!”

And with a motion of his hand he fanned his deck out above his head, the cards all floating with the black backs to the woman. He made a motion with his hand and one of the cards turned slowly, revealing the glowing silver rune. In an instant, the card shot forward, transforming into five large spears.

The woman smiled as the spears nearing her seemed to push against some unknown shield so hard that the wood buckled and snapped and the metal points flew into the walls of the theater. She then took of the midnight black hood of her long gossamer cape and smiled a wicked grin on her red lips. The fat man’s eyes widened as he realized who she was. But before he could plead for mercy, she spread her cloak like two wings and enfolded him within it.

He felt himself falling through utter nothingness. His soul felt torn while black fire burned at his body. Screams and cried echoed all around him and soon he realized they were coming from him. He gasped for air as spiders began crawling into his mouth and snakes wrapped around his neck. The next instant he felt his feet turn to heavy stone and he fell into a cold frigid ocean. He struggled to remain above the sucking water as he saw a figure walk towards him. It was the woman in black.

“Please!” he sputtered, “Mercy! I beg of Your Worshipfulness! I’ll do anything, oh Mistress of Nightmares!”

“Hmm. Alright then, if you insist. But know this Stultius, you are not spared because of any mercy in my heart. We have use of your… special talents.” She purred as she continued floating like a wisp of oily smoke.

“D-do you mean… she has need of me?” He asked with any color left in his dirty face draining as he continued struggling in the water.

“Ha! Don’t flatter yourself. This business is between you and me. You will go to Teaul. There you will soon be contacted by one of the Circle, a Vestal, who will give you your commission. Until then, don’t plan on getting much sleep.” She said with a smile that froze his blood.

The next instant his eyes opened and he realized he was lying on the floor, curled up like a child, weeping. The large man from the doorway was standing over him with the betting officer behind him. He was saying something.

“-had enough to drink. Its time for you to leave. You’re upsetting the other customers.”

The fat man looked over and saw the many faces looking with alarm at the crazy man. He was escorted out of the building and thrown into the ditch full of dirty water. He cough and hacked and reached for his deck in his anger, then caught a glimpse of black gossamer from a passing carriage and remembered his task. Grudgingly he got up and began to waddle down the dirty street. Somewhere nearby a figure in black smiled as she leapt from the building’s roof, and dissipating into a cloud of black smoke.

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The children all trudged wearily into the campsite. Several dark green tents had been pitched against the three ancient stones standing around the circular sandy area. In the center was another large stone, flat on its back, being used as a serving station for food. A line had already formed and the children from Luca quickly got in line for breakfast.

As they stood in line the boy gazed at the scene before him. There were kids from the southern village of Matvie and the river village of Janez, all wearing the same black cloaks the leader had given him. Some of the boys were talking excitedly about Sato, rumors running wild that he was an assassin or actually a woodwose come to lead them to their deaths.

“Here you are boy.” Came the large, well fed cooks deep voice, “Eat your porridge slowly. You won’t be getting anymore food until this afternoon.”

“Excuse me. I am in need of your service.” Came the voice from behind the cook.

“Eh? What da you two want?” Asked the cook as he turned revealing two girls standing behind him.

“Are you the cook?” Asked the older of the two, probably around the boy’s age.

“Aye. Whats wrong? You already had your share!” The cook said motioning to the empty bowl in her hand.

The older girl’s eye grew hard and fierce before the younger, probably around seven, began to sniff. The older girl turned her attention to the other and spoke sofly, “Come now. Don’t cry Bella. Don’t you worry, this nice man’s going to give us exactly what we came here for.”

“Ha! I’d like to see that! I’ve told you no seconds!” He growled getting red faced.

The older girl met his stare with eyes that seemed ready to burn right through his soul. Her teeth gritted and her voice was commanding as she spoke, “It would be in your best interest to listen before you open your loud gaping mouth again. I’ve seen smarter Mud Hogs.”

“Come on now.” Said the boy stepping into between the two, “There’s no point in fighting over this. Here she can have mine.” He said handing his bowl to Bella and directing the two away from the seething cook.

“What are you doing?!? I was handing it just fine!” Said the angry girl her burning eyes turning on the boy.

“Sorry, I just wanted to help.” He said looking down at Bella who had already begun consuming his bowl of porridge.

The girl looked down at Bella and smiled as she said, “I’m sorry. Thank you…”

“Nicholas.” He said with a nod of his head. “Nicholas of Luca.”

“Well, thank you Nicholas. Bella spilled hers and that idiot cook wouldn’t even listen to what happened.” She seemed to glare at him once before she spoke again, “I’m Sahrina and this is Bella. We’re from Marek.”

“Wow! That’s on the other side of the mountain! When did you two get here?” He asked astonished.

“This morning. We traveled for three days to get over the mountain.” She said wearily, “Well, I think its time we went to claim a spot in the tents. Thank you again for your kindness Nicholas of Luca.”

“No problem. I’ll talk to you later Sahrina. Goodbye Bella.” He said and the small girl waved shyly as she walked away with Sahrina.

As Nicholas walked back to the boys tent he passes the cook who had apparently been eves dropping. “Hold on lad. Here you can have another bowl. If I had known those two were from Marek I would have given them anything. I didn’t think anyone had survived. Anyways, you enjoy that, and don’t be expecting it to happen again in the future!”

Nicholas left smiling as he heard the cook muter about getting soft in his old age. He wondered what had happened in Marek, but decided it would be better to let the girls tell him, if they wanted to talk about it. He found the tent with some other boys from Luca and a few from Janez already snoring and soon he was fast asleep, the day’s wearisome events catching up with him.

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The Riddle on the Leaves

It was near sunset as the two children were still playing with their old rag dolls in the leaves. The trees had shed most of their mantels as the autumnal wind had shaken the rain of reds, yellows, and browns to the ground. The children played in the small yard surrounded by large lilac bushes that seemed like dense walls of interwoven brown twigs. The younger girl picked up an exceptionally bright red leaf and examined it with knotted brows. She called to her older sister and showed her the leaf that seemed to have been eaten by a worm leaving a lace-like curving line across its surface. The older sister stood shocked at the line which formed letters and asked a question:

“Can you hear my whisper upon the wind as I shake the leaves from the trees?”

They both stood silently and listened. The wind blew through the trees with a giggle and a song. The older sister held her younger one tight as they listened to the laughing wind. But the younger sister ran towards the gnarled old apple tree from which leaves were slowly falling like bright red snow flakes. And there more words were found.

“Can you hear my whisper upon the wind as I shake the leaves from the trees?
Can you taste my kiss upon the earth’s fruit that I passed on through the bees?
Can you see my laughter in the harvest moon’s light upon the lad and lass?
Can you feel my breath cool and clear as I paint frost upon the glass?
Can you smell my fragrance of summers gone in the secret place of the glen?
Can you sense my presence in the corn field and flying of goose and wren?
Can you know my tricks in the fields of wheat as the raven or scarecrow?
Can you guess my name and my nature when they reap that did sow?”

The girls heard the giggle on the wind again, and watched as the wind seemed to kick up the leaved in a whirlpool of red that ran across the ground to the brown lilac hedge. There was a creaking sound and the girls saw with amazement as the hedge seemed to knot and unknot, tangle and untangle until the tall hedge had formed an archway and a tunnel that went on for miles.

The two felt the wind pushing them towards the archway. Then they stopped. One looked hopeful, the other scared. The one hand slipped out of the other and one sister walked into the tunnel with the dancing wind around her. The other shook her head and decided to stay. The wind giggled, the lilac bush groaned and slowly closed the gateway. But realizing her sister was leaving she ran forward and pounded upon the brown branches. The bushes slowly opened again and she ran in after her sister and took her hand. Then the lilac bushes closed once more. In the empty yard the leaves fell softly upon the grass and the dolls now forgotten.

The Guarded Ember

Once upon a time there was a far away land of darkness. In this land every person walked around with a glowing ember in their hands. Some used them for light, others used them for heat, but most did not know how to truly use their ember and so squandered the precious flame of life. In this land of darkness there was a very large sea, and a very large mountain, and very tall tower made of ivory. And a road ran from the bay of the sea past the tower of ivory to the tall mountain.

One day, a stranger from the mountain came to the Ivory Tower and spoke with the Lady of the Tower. As they sat speaking, they gazed upon the road and saw a young man or an old boy, with a head ashen and silver and deep and sorrowful eyes walking along the path coming from the bay. As they watched him pass, the man from the mountain spoke to the lady and revealed that his master was watching the boy and that the man knew his tale.

The boy had come from the land of across the sea, where he had lived with a people whose lives were ruled by the embers they carried. The boy had been born of an ember and had been trained since his childhood days to become a priest of the embers, and to alight the embers of many others into roaring fires. But the mountain man’s master had seen the boy, and realizing that being born of ember he had a much larger ember than others, had the boy sent for.

The boy had left the land of his forefathers, and sailed across the deep sea. And as he came to the port town, he had seen unburned people for the first time. For in his village and in his land, all threw kindling and straw upon each other’s embers, and caused their embers to burst into blazing fires. But because the people did not let go of the embers when they were lit, all had burn marks from the ‘power of the embers’ as they called it.

In this new land, the boy met the unburned and saw for the first time people who walked with no ember at all. For in the town with the bridge of gold the storms were fierce and the rains were hard and the wind blew strong and mercilessly. There were those who had not protected their embers and so the embers of many had waxed cold and gone out. These were those who slowly died as they grew colder and colder and could no longer see the light of life.

The boy met a girl and as he had been taught, he prepared to light his ember and her ember as well and make a roaring fire. But the mountain man’s master had foreseen this, and had caused the house the boy boarded in to begin to shake. And the master of the house’s son set the house ablaze with his ember and the whole house fell, its parts scattering far. The boy, realizing the potential of his ember to destroy both houses and people, decided that his ember was too dangerous, that he would extinguish it.

He did and for many days he wandered the city cold, hungry, and blind to the lurking dangers. He stumbled upon a garden, and in the garden he found a small path. The path led to a small house with a large chimney and a golden light from the windows. He entered the doorway, and his eyes hurt as he gazed upon a massive and roaring fire in the hearth. There he saw a man with his back turned gazing into the golden flames.

“Sir, please, could I rest by your fire for just a moment. It has been very long since my bones have felt the heat of an ember in them.”

The man turned. He had short cut curly red hair, with hues of blond and orange throughout so that it seemed that his head was ablaze. His deep eyes seem to change colors in the flickering firelight as he smiled and motion to a chair next to the hearth. The boy sat down and soon he and the man began to speak.

“So little one. Why is your ember out? Did the rains extinguish it?” Asked the man with a knowing smile.

“No, I was afraid of the power of my ember. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. So I extinguished it.” Said the boy, shameful for no reason.

“It’s alright. Many have done the same for the same reason. But you are human, my lad, and you have been specially made to carry an ember within your hands. If you extinguish it, you slowly die also, and if you let it burn without control, you will die quickly as well.”


“But there is nothing I can do. My ember is out. See here it is.” Said the boy holding the hard piece of black coal.

“I see. Here give me your ember.” Said the man with his hand extended.

The boy gave it to him and he threw it in the burning hearth. The boy cried out when he saw the ember in the fire and almost began to weep, but the man with the blazing hair spoke softly, “If you wish to have your ember, you must be willing to give it up. If you wish to control your ember, you must be willing to do the impossible.”

And reaching into the roaring fire he pulled the red hot coal from its place and gave it to the boy gently. The boy held it close and felt its pulsating heat beating like a small heart. Then looking to the man he asked, “Sir, excuse me, but who are you?”

“I am the Keeper of the Hearth. I am the only one who can reignite flames and make embers burn again. See that mountain far away? I have a house upon it and there all those who wish to control their embers and use them to bring the light of the sun to this dark world again reside. If you want to, you can follow my path. It leads from the bay to my mountain top.”

And so the boy set out upon his journey. He kept his ember close to his heart when the rains fell, and learned to set it down when it burst into flame until the flames subsided. And soon he had learned from watching the others on the road with him how to keep his ember warm and lighted, but not let it burn without control.

And so he came to this place. The path that led by the Ivory Tower. And the Lady of the Tower looked to the man who had come from the mountain and asked him what awaited the lad there. The man looked at the boy, struggling against the flow of the winds and rains, covering his precious coal with his hand, and then looked to the far off mountain so faintly illuminated by light.

“I am not sure if my master would want me to reveal too much. However, I can tell you this. On this journey servants of my master, such as myself, will come along and teach him how to gather stones and build a home for his ember. And then as he grows and becomes stronger we will teach him how to carry not straw or kindling that burns so fast, but solid wood, which burns slowly and makes more embers.”

“But what waits for him upon the mountain?” asked the Lady of the Tower leaning forward.

“There awaits someone there for him… I cannot speak of it more. But I can show you if you wish. Here, take up your ember and I will take you to my mountain home and show you the secret things done only in the light. And there you will meet my master, the Keeper of the Hearth. And then you and I can place our embers in that of the Keeper’s fire and there sit in his warmth and light and be contented and joyous for all our days.”

“I would like that.” Said the Lady of the Ivory Tower, and walking down the many steps from locked chamber, she picked her ember up once again, and taking the arm of the man that came from the mountain they walked out upon the path together and went the same way as the boy who guarded his ember. For his ember was all he had to give.

How Can I Tell You?

There's this thing I have to tell you
Since the day we met I’ve wanted to say
There are words that my heart beats for
How can I tell you I feel this way

I could sing for you a love song
Under your window as you sleep
But no melody of man or angel
Can show the secret my heart keeps

Should I send you a red rose
Everyday for the rest of my days
No, flowers fade with the twilight
While my love will remain always

Should I simply kiss you long and hard
As I’ve only done in my dreams
No, this goes beyond mere passion
To my very soul and being it seems

I could toil all day and night
Build a home where we could grow old
But while no labor would be ever too great
All would fall short of my heart’s secret untold.

I could take you to Paris, Venice, or Rome
To an island in the clear blue sea
But this love is not bound by where we are
As long as you are with me

I could lead you to a field to watch the stars
Take your hand and never again let go
But our hearts are already so inseparable
When we’re apart and you cry I cry also

Should I show you the way to the rooftops,
And there dance by the light of the moon
No, this is more than just a moment
And dawn comes much too soon

I could plant a secret garden for you
And there simply sit gazing in your eyes
Winters come quickly, but not to my love
And silence cannot speak my heart’s cries

Or should I simply draw you close,
And with our hearts beating in time,
Whisper ever so softly in your ear,
“I love you. Will you, always, be mine?”

Miss Kathleen's Defense

Removed for submission to magazine

The Sacrifice

On the eve of midsummer’s day,
In the deep woods, or so they say,
Young Puck calls all the sprites to play,
Neath the light of white Luna’s rays.

Human hunters come as well,
With weapons raised and wild yell,
Some hearts pure and others fell,
Their parts to play, their tales to tell.

The Summer King, crowned in oak,
And dressed in a viridian cloak,
Sits above the fire’s smoke,
Summer’s blessings to invoke.

When Luna rises from her seat,
Wilts Puck stokes the fire’s heat,
The sprites drum to his strong heartbeat,
As the Summer King stands to his feet.

Then Luna brings out the stag,
The creature caught in the crag,
Its mouth bound with a crimson rag,
And Puck brings forth the knife and bag.

The knife is placed in the hand,
Of the Summer King so grand,
And before the fire he does stand,
To decide the fate of the land.

But he beholds the eyes of blue,
And knows that he cannot do,
The act against his own virtue,
Or pay the sacrifice held due.

And Luna seeing his hand waver,
Turns from him her great favor,
And seeks another with face graver,
To any who the task will savor.

Three of man take the blade,
Waiting, ready until they’re bade,
Not one being a bit afraid,
Grip the handle of ivory made.

Luna’s lament breaks the still,
She gives a cry with all her will,
The King of Summer now looks ill,
The three plunge the knife to kill.

But no blood stains the glade,
Nor is death found upon the blade,
Bright and shining the stag’s remade,
Now stands a fierce warriormaid.

Her eyes shine like the wild,
And to the King she had smiled,
But looked upon the three, reviled
And pronounce them all utterly defiled.

“I am Mistress of bird and beast,
And with the bow I am not the least,
And brought here to this summer’s feast
My fury soon will be unleashed.

You three men who dared this crime,
To lay hands on what’s sacred, mine,
Will now taste the wrath of the divine,
Become rosemary, sage, and sweet thyme.”

Luna, Anima, and Summer’s King
From each herb fashions a ring,
And in a strawman place everything,
Then it burns as they joyfully sing.

And Puck of the green sleeves,
Throws in the fire parsley leaves
The flames shoot high over the trees,
Causing fright for local reeves.

The music and the dancing merry,
The food and the wine of berry,
All are gay from elf to fairy,
And later they would all tarry.

But Aurora touches the night sky,
And colors it lighter by and by,
And all knows that the end draws neigh,
For by sunrise they must all fly.

Luna raises her torch of light,
And leads the fairies of the night,
While Puck hides the rest from sight,
While the hunters freed, run with fright.

Only Anima and the Oak King remain,
For summer is their sacred domain,
And as they walk echoes their refrain,
“Summer’s here, let joy reign!”

Amora Schizophrenia

Amora Schizophrenia
or Love’s Bittersweet Chalice

A young farm boy walks down the lane,
A stupid grin upon his features plain.
When stopped by an old beggar is he,
The man speaks of the boy’s glee.

“What now, dear son, why whistle you so,
What thing causes your face to glow.
But answer not, I beg of you,
That it is love, the violent and true

For I recall so many a season,
I am quite old, as you may have reasoned,
And have seen this love many devour
And then abandon in the desperate hour.

But Love is such a marvelous thing,
It causes the heart and soul to sing.
Seek out love wherever it’s found,
Let it be the fox and you the hound.

And once Love you do discover,
Make it your eternal lover,
Find it and bind it and hold it near,
Loose not your hold, keep it with fear.

Love is horrendous, a vicious beast,
It preys on the tender, the young and the least
It tears out hearts and ruins lives
But isn’t it wonderful, a glorious prize.

Love brings hope, happiness, and bliss
All your desires with a single kiss,
Love is the greatest gift of humanity,
Oh boy listen, from this monster flee!

Love is your purpose and destiny,
Grab hold and never set it free.
Love is abominable, torment, I know
So run not to it, learn to let go.

Love is the sun and the life and the sky,
Love causes hearts and minds to die.
Love completes and makes us whole,
Love is the chief destroyer of the soul.

Love is great, run from it hard.
For its evil wiles, give words to the bard.
It brightens young eyes, fear its reach,
It will bring tears, and joy teach.

Love is torment, bliss, and horror.
Love is worthless and worth the bother.
Love is flying, and dying and ire,
Love is like a blazing fire.”

Then the beggar simply walked up the lane,
Leaving the boy with the features plain.
But the old one’s words did not amuse,
But left the simpletons lost and confused.

The Place of the Broken Pillar

While examining the great library at the estate of Cardinal Pierre le de Roux, I happened upon a curiosity of some minor importance. It was a secret antechamber behind a wall covered in manuscripts related to maritime history. On the left hand wall was a painting, an old man of war, as used in the previous century in the great wars, with sails billowing, waves crashing about it as it struggled in the midst of a violent tempest. Directly ahead of me was the antique mahogany helm of a ship, possibly the same kind as the man of war from the painting, covered in a thin veil of dust. And to my right the chamber contained a small desk with an ancient yellow candle and a dusty worn leather tome resting next to it.

I lit the candle from my lamp, and as the golden light rose and fell upon the room I felt as if I was no longer in the forgotten derelict chamber but instead in the cabin of some mariner upon the seas of old. I sat behind the rough desk and opened the latched leather tome, taking care not to let the time loosened pearls fall from their holdings in the spine. The yellowed vellum pages turned with creaking and crumpling as if all the years of disuse were being released from them. And upon the dusty pages I read thus:

“There is a place at the very mouth of the Mediterranean Sea, where two large bronze columns rise from the sun warmed waters. These are the pillars of Heracles and for good reason, for they are gigantic and a threat for all wishing to sail beyond them. I am from the small village of Jarasa, founded long ago by the remnants of Carthage. In Jarasa fishermen and their sons would sail on summer’s first day to touch the pillars in the bay. We hoped in doing so we may gain some of the legendary strength of Heracles to bring in the large catches.

We fished all through the summer and the first of the autumn when the fish are large and their meat is sweat. And when the late autumn’s storms were drawing neigh we would look to our homes and families and ensure we had caught and dried enough fish for the long winter. If we had not we would then travel to the port town of La Mera and buy the rest of the needed fish for our families.

One stormy autumn day, I went with my father to La Mera to purchase seal oil for our lamps, ours having been spoiled by rats that summer. As we fought the wind and rain from the storm to get back to our small boat at the docks, we tried to keep the oil covered and safe from the elements. We sailed back home towards the Pillars and Jarasa, but as we drew near, a sudden light appeared on the western seas. And as we sailed closer we beheld a most terrible sight.

A large man of war, sails torn and flags shredded had collided with the left pillar bending it and sending a large crack along its length. The ship was on fire and lodged firmly into the breaking pillar. Already debris and bodies from the ship floated in the cool Atlantic current that swirled about the burning core. And then I saw them. There were people still on the wreckage, some clinging to the Pillar, others on parts of the wreckage. Most were yelling and waving their arms calling for help. Apparently none could swim.

We loosed out sails and made haste to try and save as many or any if possible. But an adverse wind was blowing and the debris nearly impaled our small craft before we could draw within range to help. We could do nothing and so we simply rode the bucking and billowing ocean as we watched and waited for a miracle.

There was one, only one, person who could swim. He seemed to be a boy of about seventeen or eighteen, with dark hair and eyes and a strong frame. He looked as if he may have been a kitchen boy from his attire, but his bearing, standing there upon the swaying wreckage with lightning and fires illuminating him, made him seem as some divine prince of the sea. With a quick leap he was in the mountainous sea, swimming up hills of water and riding down them into the abysmal valleys of cold, grey-green water.

We sat ready in our boat, the wind and the current still against us, with line in hand to aid him once we could. But then surprisingly he had not swum far before he came to a woman and her small child who begged his help. He took the child and placed her upon his neck, then placed his arm around the woman and began to swim towards our vessel. When he reached the furthest part of the wreckage, the one closest to us, he placed the woman and child upon the large raft of debris and swam back.

He soon returned with an elderly gentleman and his wife, both clutching each other fiercely as they feared the raging waters. Then he went back again, fatigue beginning to show in his strokes as he returned this time with his head barely above the waves, two children on his back and their parents under each arm. He went again and returned with a finely dressed lady who was complaining that the children had been rescued first. Still the boy said nothing and went back yet again, the fires upon the wreckage spreading faster.

He drew near several gentlemen dressed very finely and all three leapt upon his back at once. They began to sink and as they did they fought one another as they were drowning, the boy trapped beneath them. He surfaced and managed a breath of air before he was pushed under by the greedy men in the fancy suites yet again. Kicking free of them he swam away but did not get far before another group of people jumped upon him. Women grabbed his arms, men his legs, while more and more of the finely dressed ones leapt upon his back, and then upon one another, in order to escape their doom.

But there were too many and he could not carry them all, and so the weight of their great number slowly began to drag him under the churning salty water. His head went under the swarming mass of humanity as more tried to escape upon his back from the dreaded fires. Then with a loud groan the bronze pillar snapped completely and fell upon the burning ship and the pile of humanity. There was a large crash, and a mighty wave that turned the currents around. We sailed closer and rescued those he had placed upon the outer timbers and took them back to Jarasa, then we sailed with a group of men to the place of the broken pillar.

We searched many days but could not find his body and we realized that he must still be beneath the bronze pillar somewhere on the deep sea floor. We buried the slain and used the timbers from the ship to build a large wooden trident upon the overlooking hill in memory of the day. I kept the helm of the ship which washed ashore, forever wondering at the hands that guided them all to their destinies. And from that day forth when our fishermen sailed out on summer’s first day with their sons, they asked not only for the strength of Heracles but also for courage of the unnamed boy who gave his life to save so many.”

As I finished reading this tale I looked with awe upon the helm that stood in this sacred shrine. I also noticed for the first time the dark and ominous sea chest in the corner. I went over to open it, but a feeling of dread came upon me. I felt filthy, as if I had defiled this sacred chamber with my inquisitive presence. So I decided that I would not look within the chest. Instead I made my way out of the library and afterwards set sail for a little known village on the Mediterranean Sea where I too might sail out upon a boat to ask for courage at the place of the broken pillar.