The MaskI wear the mask of smiles and liesThe Mask in Free Verse More Like This
It shrouds the face and hides my eyes
You cannot see through my disguise
I wear the mask
You wear the mask; it cloaks your face
You hide from me your deep disgrace
Because the world would be abased
You wear the mask
We wear the mask; alike we hide
We must; if they take all our pride
We'll fade and slowly die inside
We wear the mask
The Last Will and Testament of Hobbs PoptimistThe Last Will and Testament of Hobbs Poptimist in Free Verse More Like This
As a young author, I must explain
To you how hard it is to write refrains
That, without exception, have to rhyme.
This story took up too much of my time.
Still, you are owed some minor details
As to why this story is slightly derailed.
Firstly, the protagonist is somewhat based on the writer,
But only in name, not in intentions, you blighters.
Then, it involves zombies, so there's some horror.
Then add in a suicide and a dash of murder.
WAIT! Before you try to run away,
The gore is edited out, okay?
And there are reasons why she died.
She would have done more harm still alive.
One last thing before you read this story.
She is not telling them to dissect her gory
Body. The meanings symbolic, if you get the gist,
Except for what she gave to her aunts on the list.
Now, this story is written in the form of a letter,
Addressed to her living family members.
I apologize to whoever finds me first
I wish it had not come to this worst
Case scenario, but I will tell you how
This all came about. N
ClichesThey say "all dogs go to heaven"Cliches in Free Verse More Like This
And "all sinners go to hell"
They say our efforts are "just a drop in the bucket"
And that we're "saved by the bell"
They say "you can't teach an old dog new tricks"
And that "only time will tell"
Well I say "damn you and your stupid cliches
This world's already gone to hell."
...good night... ...all I wanted was lost...good night... in Free Verse More Like This
all I lost was never mine
you were never mine
and I lost you...
...but I still want you...
Starlight, star bright
First star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have this first wish I wish tonight
...shush little lamb,
please go to sleep
nothing's in the shadows
where the stalkers creep...
Starlight, star bright
First star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
Live to see tomorrow's light-
...shush little lamb,
don't make a sound
the monsters won't get you
if you can't be found...
Star light, star bright
First star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
Live to see tomorrow's light-
...shush little lamb,
there's nothing to fear
you'll never be alone again
I promise, dear...
Starlight star bright
First star I see tonight
I wish I may I wish I might-
...have this first wish I wish tonight...
...but I made the wishes first, lamb...
This Poem Stole My WalletThis poem stole my walletThis Poem Stole My Wallet in Free Verse More Like This
As its very last resort
I guess it was miffed at me
You know? Feeling out of sorts.
Poor poem, how I pity you
But really, what could I say?
"I'm sorry, no time for writing this week,
Come back some other day."
But no! It wouldn't listen.
Simply insisted to be written
Despite my protests of being tired today.
So now here it is, hope it's happy.
At the very least it's not sappy.
But it is an absolute jerk of the very worst sort.
Not to mention a mess, without
Rhyme, reason, or rhythm
To hold its sorry lines
And varied stanzas
I denounce it as a magpie, a jaybird, a crow
I'm ashamed to even think that I could write something so low.
Thank heavens! It's the end. It's had its silly fun.
I bid you all goodnight, this poem's finally done.
HonestyI find it difficult to write.Honesty in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
comes out wrong fights mepulses clear and sharp inside my brainhead, but vanishes as I tryattempt to get it on paper.
I don't know if I've ever told anyone this, but I love to write on paper. Typing
dreivesdrives me up the wall.
Yet as soon as I put pen to paper?
That bubbling, unceasing
stestream of words that constantly flows throunthrough my mind?
See you later.
Worse than that frustration,
is when I dowhen I do write, I hate it.
I loathe it.
stupic stupidpitiful crap that makes me cringe when I read it later.
I ask myself "What were you thinking, you stupid, moronic,
I can't stand my own
Isn't that sad?
When I wa
Fearful PeopleUnthinkingly I hide my eyesFearful People in Free Verse More Like This
Afraid to let the world inside.
They must never come to realize
How much I prize
And fear their lies.
You've noticed this, you think you've won
Because I hide; why can't you see?
However much I fear your lies,
You, just as much, fear me.
ChangeMyself and I are going outChange in Free Verse More Like This
To see this world we've heard about
we've thought about it
talked about it
dreamed about it
hoped about it
laughed about it
wished about it
ran from it
hid from it
we can't keep running
we can't keep hiding
we'll face it
together. . .
ChangeI.Change in Free Verse More Like This
I fucked up
I messed up, screwed up
and now they tell me to suck it up
change my ways
like it's the easiest thing in the world
change, change, change
it's a dirty word, you know
I hear it and flinch away
because I am changing
not the way you want me to
not in an acceptable way
and I just
you say it like a gift, like it's something special
new and unusual, a thought I've never had before
before I ever came out of my mother's womb I knew change
I was change
standing there all put together
telling me to change
filth and superiority dripping out of your mouth
oh, you don't like your life
to change it
how do you think I got here?
did you know that?
with your can-do attitude and put together face
can you tell how hopelessly lost I am?
I wasn't always
lost, I mean
one day I just
found myself here
but hindsight's 20/20 you know
I can't go forward
The Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 6Opera Populaire that Night: Showtime for II MutoThe Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 6 in General Fiction More Like This
That night was opening night for the Opera Populaire's new production of II Muto, and everything was set up and ready for the show. Ignoring the 'Nightmaren Ghost's' threats, Jackle and Chamelan gave Clairs the lead role as Countess, Helen the silent role of the Page Boy, and they did not leave Box 5 open, so they were in for it!
Clairs stepped out on stage wearing a very puffy pink dress that made her hips look the size of a hippo. She was also wearing clown looking makeup, and a really tall white wig that was probably as tall as her body.
Helen walked alongside Clairs on stage wearing a long white maid's outfit, and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Hidden underneath the maid's dress, was a white men's dress shirt, with light blue tights, and tall black boots. The outfit made Helen look like a man because in the Opera, a man (the pageboy) is secretly the Countess' lover, so in order for him to stay undercover, he disguised himself as
The Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 11865 Opera PopulaireThe Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 1 in General Fiction More Like This
The Opera Populaire was a large, thriving Opera House fulled with the most talented artist in all of Nightopia. It was a large theater with red velvety chairs and gold statues all around the room. The ceiling was very high above the floor, and in the middle of it was a huge crystal chandelier. Everyone was franticly getting ready for tonight's show. Back stage, all the stage crew members were making final adjustments to pros, costumes and backdrops, while the dancers stretched and started to practice. On stage was the Opera House prima dona: Claris Sinclair. She was running through a song from the production 'Hannibal' when-
"Attention ladies and gentlemen!" an old owl shouted at everyone, interrupting their work. "I know there have been rumors of my retirement floating around, and now I am here today to tell you that these are all true."
"WOOHOO!" everyone shouted, happy they will no longer be working for him. Owl was fuming at everyone's reaction so started to sc
The Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 3Helen's Dressing RoomThe Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 3 in General Fiction More Like This
"You did a wonderful job Helen my dear!" Madame Emily told Helen in her dressing room, surrounded by bushels of flowers after her amazing performance. "He is pleased with you." Emily informed her, handing her a red rose with a black silk ribbon tied onto its stem.
'He?' Helen thought to herself with a confused expression on her face. 'NiGHTS maybe? Hmm...' Just as Helen was about to ask Emily who gave her the rose, she left the room shutting the door behind her. Now being alone, Helen sat on the stool by her vanity pondering at the mysterious rose she was holding delicately. 'Who is he?' She wondered when suddenly, the door opened.
"Hello Helen." A handsome purple jester holding flowers said as smooth as silk.
Could it be? Is it really him? Helen turned to find her childhood sweetheart kneeling next to her holding a lovely bouquet of flowers. "NiGHTS!" she cried giving him a tight hug. "Those picnics in the attic..." she said, trailing off, and letting nostalgia t
Starlight's Story Chapter 1'Where am I? Who am I?' The tiny little girl wonders, then a faint voice answers, 'Starlight' 'Starlight, that's my name isn't it?' The girl slowly opens her eyes, and covers her eyes from the light that blinds her. She slowly starts to get up and look around her. There are luscious green trees everywhere full of strange fruits, and bushes full of blue, purple, red, and yellow flowers. She looks up at the blue sky with few clouds drifting by. 'Where am I?' She then hears a water rushing and splashing and starts to walk to where the sound is coming from. As she gets closer, she starts to hear what sounds like laughter. She parts some bushes in front of her and she is surprised at what she sees.Starlight's Story Chapter 1 in General Fiction More Like This
A big river with crystal clear water and in the river strange creatures are playing in the water. They have cone shape heads and halos on top, big eyes, small hands, light purple wings, and pointy ears. They wear a light purple vest with orange sleeves and red cuffs and a whi
The Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 11Opera Populaire: Chamelan and Jackle's OfficeThe Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 11 in General Fiction More Like This
As soon as NiGHTS arrived with Helen back at the Opera Populaire, he knew that he would need to make an improtant visit with Chamelan and Jackle regarding the Phantom's production of Don Juan Triumphant. Since this was his opera, he was to decide who would get each roll, and as assumed, he gave Helen the leading soprano roll. NiGHTS was completely against it, because he knew if she took the roll, her life could be in danger.
"We can't do this!" NiGHTS exclaimed at Chamelan and Jackle. "I will not let you and this Phantom put Helen in this opera! The only reason he wrote it was to get closer to Helen! We have all been blind! He is using all of us in order for him to be able to take Helen!" NiGHTS rebelled, trying to sway their decision and let her be.
"I'm sorry NiGHTS," Chamelan apologized, "but you and I both know that this must be done. We now know, after the hanging of Clawz that we must strictly follow his orders... or else we may lose
The Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 4The Phantom's LairThe Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 4 in General Fiction More Like This
The Phantom's "house" was surrounded by hundreds of candles, and the walls were covered with mirrors , about 6 of them. All of the different rooms were separated by red velvet curtains instead of walls, and in the middle of everything was a large, fancy organ.
I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne
to this kingdom where all must pay homage to music.
You have come here, for one purpose, and one alone.
Since the moment I first heard you sing,
I have needed you with me, to serve me, to sing,
For my music my music.
Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination
Silently the senses abandon their defenses
The Phantom walked back over to the gondola, helping Helen out, and onto land. Holding her hand he slowly walked around his home with her, walking to the steady beat of his song, while he sang:
Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor
Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender.
Turn your face away from the
The Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 13Opera Populaire during CrisisThe Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 13 in General Fiction More Like This
NiGHTS dashed through the backstage area of the Opera Populaire in desperate search to find Madame Emily. As he waded himself through the huge crowds of evacuating people, NiGHTS heard-
"No! You can't come back here! You are not permitted to come back stage unless you are a performer! Stay back! HELP!" Madame Emily screamed at a large group of police and men with pitchforks who were trying to force their way into the backstage. Will run all around the mob, yelling the same orders as his mother so that the back of the crowd would hear too.
"Madame! You must let us through! The Phantom is a felon! He must be stopped!" The Police Chief yelled back at Emily. At sight of the scene, NiGHTS bolted over her defense, helping her hold off the mob.
"GET OUT OF HERE!" NiGHTS ruthlessly yelled, scaring away most of the crowd except a few stage crew workers and policeman. Turning towards Emily, NiGHTS quickly asked, "Where did he take her?"
Emily grabbed NiGHTS's arm an
The Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 2Opera Populaire: ShowtimeThe Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 2 in General Fiction More Like This
Later that night Helen's big debut, and she really stunned the audience! She looked gorgeous in a long red dress that showed off her curves and diamond barrettes in the shape of flowers clipped in her long blond hair. Not only that, but her voice was a sweet sounding Soprano pitch that could project all around the Opera House. She sang:
Think of me
Think of me fondly, when
We've said goodbye
Once in a while,
Please promise me you'll try
When you find,
That once again you long
To take your heart back,
And be free
If you ever find a moment,
Spare a thought for me
We never said
Our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea...
But if you can still remember,
Stop and think of me
Think of all the things
We've shared and seen,
Don't think about the things
Which might have been
Think of me
Think of me waking, silent
Imagine me, trying too hard to
Put you from my mind...
Recall those days,
Look back on all those times,
Think of the thin
The Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 7Rooftop / Balcony of Opera Populaire ( only seconds after the hanging of Clawz )The Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 7 in General Fiction More Like This
"There is no Phantom of Nightopia!" NiGHTS assured Helen, walking out onto the rooftop in to the lightly falling snow, but she knew that he was very wrong.
NiGHTS, I've been there
to his world of unending night
To a world with the daylight dissolves into darkness... darkness...
NiGHTS, I've seen him!
Can I ever forget that sight?
Can I ever escape from that face?
So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face
in that darkness... darkness...
Slowly zoning out, Helen slowly walked across the rooftop, letting her cape drag, slowly starting to smile and looking out to night sky, she sang:
But his voice filled my spirit
with a strange, sweet sound...
In the night there was music in my mind...
And through music my soul began to soar!
And I heard as I'd never heard before
Slowly starting to come back to reality, she turned back to NiGHTS who had a confused expression on his face. He thought she was ter
The Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 10Helen's Bedroom next morningThe Phantom of Nightopia Chapter 10 in General Fiction More Like This
The next morning, Helen woke up right as the sun rose over the horizon. She looked to her right, smiling to see her love, NiGHTS, still asleep in the chair next to her. Getting out of bed she went and put on a long, flowing black dress, with a long black cape to go over it. On the table next to her bed was a vase with 5 roses tied together in a black ribbon. Helen grabbed them from out of the vase and headed for the door, but then she saw NiGHTS again, and she couldn't resist. Helen quickly and quietly kissed NiGHTS's forehead without waking him up, and then left the room, headed for her carriage.
As she walked out of the Opera House's entrance, she saw her carriage driver standing around in the falling snow, looking for someone who needs to go somewhere. As Helen approached him he smiled, and bowed to her.
"Good morning Miss Cartwright! Where would you like to go?" he asked excitedly.
"Could you please take me to the cemetery?" Helen asked quiet, and somew
Figure 8Running in circlesFigure 8 in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
With the moon shining through me
I am incomplete
My Chemical RomanceLove is chemicalMy Chemical Romance in Free Verse More Like This
A magnetic response
Forcing lies into our minds
So we continue living
Next to each other
We would've been extinct long ago
Even though I cannot stand you
I cannot bear to be around you
I cannot seem to escape
Something keeps me running back to you
I can't control myself
Nothing but a chemical
Keeps us dancing, romancing
Nothing but a chemical romance
A chemical love
Hello, AgainYou scream goodbye foreverHello, Again in Free Verse More Like This
I whisper hello again into your ear
This fire burns within me
It won't ever let you go
Breathe in deeply
It might be your last
You can never truly escape
From those that hold you close
So stop resisting
Take my heart and make it your own
It needs a new home
Fight MeIt took all of your love to forgive meFight Me in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
It took all of your sin to forget me
It wasn't worth it the end
I saw what happened to you
You always wanted to fight me
But never mustered the courage
Never brought it all together
Into one rage
One imaculate hatred
It took all of my composure to stand strong
It took me quite a while to learn to stand alone
It took a while to learn
You always wanted to fight me
Never giving me a second chance
It took too long to forget
The images of you
I know you want to
I know you want to fight me
I never wanted to hurt you
I never wanted to harm you
But I did
And I'm sorry
You always wanted to fight me
One ounce of gratitude or forgiveness
Thank you for the memories
Table for TwoHow can I be weak enoughTable for Two in Free Verse More Like This
To crumble under the pressure
How can I not be strong enough to be the leader
When everyone looks to me for guidance
It doesn't happen often
Days are few and far between
Torn apart by nights
Leading to torture
I have to let go of emotions
There's no reason with you in my head
There's only room for one
Table for two please
EvolutionIm not the sameEvolution in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
As I once was
Ive changed over time
Look who I am now
Minor changes lead to greater expansions
Of lyrical capabilities
Caps sitting sideways where they used to be straight
My words have evolved with beats backing me up
From simple speech to rage filled repetition
Spit out my words instead of simply presenting them
Repetition and rhyme, filling my mind
My soul could bleed
But I never planned to see
Myself this way
What would my mama say
If she saw what Id become
Look at how Ive evolved
I refuse conformity
When I used to follow the flow
Ive gone from sheep to lyrical leader
I lead with words over actions
A picture might be worth a thousand words
But on the other hand
That makes a word worth a thousand pictures
I never thought I could change this way
From simple, easy-going kid
To what I am today
What can I say
Id like to thank the few who know me this way
You might be shocked that once
I couldnt put three words together
In a rhyme
InbetweenFear is at the heart of loveInbetween in Free Verse More Like This
Push is a major component of shove
Are like spaces in sidewalks
Tiny cracks under our feet
PerfectI am mePerfect in Free Verse More Like This
I may not be the best
I may not be perfect
But I am who I am
Hate me or love me
It doesn't matter to me
Because I am me
I don't care what you think
I don't care who you are
Because I am me
I may not be perfect
I may not be anywhere close
But I am me
That's all that matters
I don't care if I'm perfect
I don't care what you think
So haters, don't bother
You don't bother me
Because I am me
And that's all I care about
So who cares if I'm perfect
Who cares if I care
I am me
And I like that
I enjoy being unique
Having my own words
I am the only one to label me
So don't even try
Because I am me
I am me
I am only me
You are not me
You can't be me
Because I am me
I'm not perfect
I am who I am
And I am me
Everything I'm not
I'm not the model type
I am me
If you still don't understand
Then you don't have to be my friend
You are you
And I am me
SicknessShe has all the symptoms:Sickness in Free Verse More Like This
pulling air into her lungs
is a valiant civil war
(and shes wondering who the victor is),
she has a slouch like Lincoln,
like an NBA star without the fame,
if they had ever wanted to
go somewhere and not be recognized
by only an abnormal height, by a difference,
if they had wanted to hide in front of people,
as if she were something small and furred
with button eyes and predators, and a tail
she could tuck between her legs.
Her friends are whispering
and she can listen
because shes good at not being noticed by now,
there are words like lovesickness and who?
but she whispers kyphosis,
that ended when he died clutching the gypsy
Esmerelda after being denied by her,
and he can only hold her when she does not know shes being held,
when not being able to breathe is not a problem.
SOSI want to do something meaningless,SOS in Free Verse More Like This
something instinct has ignored
and my mind has not thought of,
counting pomegranate seeds and forgetting the numbers
and making wishes on three-leaf clovers,
and saying what I mean without
filling it with metaphors
or secret messages,
because theres been enough of those,
too much, and Ive thrown
my decoder ring out the window.
Oblivious is now my closest friend
(but not my best one, I dont know
if shes good for me)
and Im trying not to hear what goes on
between letters, in the spaces and gaps
left by the end and beginning of each word,
like floating bottles from desert islands,
carrying an SOS and a prayer
that is doomed to never be fulfilled,
because no one will bother to answer
except the children,
because they still believe in superheroes and
dont know the currents flow in one direction
and never back,
but the adults will stop them because
they know, and when as children they sent out
their own bottles, there we
Rite of PassageTheyre handing out a goodbye and a tear toRite of Passage in Free Verse More Like This
everyone they make eye contact with,
trying not to peer too deeply because theres
not enough time to contemplate whats looking out from those eyes,
the scarecrows or the frightened, starving crows
condensed in the shadow of the microphone
on the guitarists lips
while he sings Hallelujah and strums,
we are what weve killed and the band
has gone home to grow patches of
flowing baldness and swollen beer guts,
waiting thirty years before they can smile
about standing on a stage and being adored without
their words tasting like unsweetened coffee,
brown, bitter, and full of jolting
and its been thirty years and now
if they look into each others eyes
for the gravestones of stillborn dreams
their sight is too feeble to see anything
the songwriters immortalize in lyrics,
and too rheumy to show it.
51109I am scraping the last51109 in Free Verse More Like This
clumps of coherency out of my skull,
cutting off my eyelids and injecting caffeine.
Hannibals crusade, Napoleons final attack,
The British trying to take back America,
us staying together,
and this is just another losing battle.
Im spread out on the floor of my room,
still dressed, and its 4:30 in the morning
and my only company is the grunting of the printer,
forced to spit out something I cant remember writing.
Ive painted green leaves on the side of my house,
on the backs of my hands, because summer has come
to wither everything brown, Midas with a touch of death,
and I need to be able to remember spring
even when all the color has fled.
A Little DoseCan you rememberA Little Dose in Free Verse More Like This
the date today?
or have all the days slid into each other like
the evaporating colors in a rainbow
or a car into another,
car parts strewn with bloodless carnage across the asphalt.
the spectators are slowing down now to stare and
Its too easy, too easy to feel your heartbeat
and the wheel under your hands,
the sweat-slick texture of your skin,
the pattern of your breathing
and the slight throb behind your left eye
from staying up too late,
and a thousand other annoyances that let you know
youre still on Earth
when its all stopped
for someone else.
But it breaks the monotony, right?
for the brief few moments you see it,
before its filed away under Memory
or just discarded, you remember youre alive,
because its so easy to forget that,
and a little dose of death cures that,
as long as its not your own.
If I IgnoreHis words beat on her faceIf I Ignore in Open More Like This
in his poised for a slow boil aching manner,
carried on chrysanthemum breath of green chenille
and winter, where animals hole up in caves
to sleep away the danger, and shes screwed
her eyes shut to keep him from getting in
and making a mantra out of
hell go away if i ignore him,
but if she cant say what she knows is there
then hes already inside,
iridescently victorious with beetle-black eyes,
because if you keep chanting
there are no monsters under the bed,
in the closet in strangers
in friends in myself,
they wont have to leave because
youve given them the best defense,
and theyll wait for you
to shrink yourself a doe heart,
beating madly right before you sleep
and all the words you say for composure
dont match your thoughts or the truth.
Then theyll come with flowers.
DreamcatchersYou broke the dreamcatcher I made,Dreamcatchers in Free Verse More Like This
red and white beads spread across the floor
and taut strings curled up and
no longer entangled up in one another.
You smiled at me and said as an apology
that now all my dreams would be free to
roam the pastures of my waking hours,
feeding off my fruit and
maturing, becoming something
larger than baby wisps of natural silence.
You said my dreams should not have been trussed up
and held captive like fugitives and thieves,
forced into a sunlit world not their own
or saved up like shiny copper pennies for dark days.
They belong in lavender-colored minutes,
when stars hum distantly,
and reflected in my eyes,
open or covered in weariness.
I showed you that dreams can also shine through
smiles, but (Im sorry) the one I gave you was
made out of wisps of the silence I am giving you,
so I dont have to explain to you that
dreamcatchers catch as many dreams as
firetrucks start fires,
and that they only catch my nightmares.
Dance of the SpiritsHe lives off dandelion seeds,Dance of the Spirits in Free Verse More Like This
seasoned with tattered colors from the Aurora Borealis,
and sometimes its the edges of his fingernails,
and he draws pictures of striped purple cats
because he saw a movie once where
one disappeared except for its smile,
and he knows enough people to know
that sometimes that smile is all there is
and too many have forgotten whats supposed
to fill in the space behind it.
he has seen the atrocity in benevolence,
mismatched socks of emotions
sliding in her eyes and the curve of her mouth
upwards like a crescent moon,
like waning and stretched skin over ribs,
like the slumber of winter in the north
painted by the curtains of color
that die on Halloween or in May
and glow again in other months,
and in those months he paints self-portraits
(and the paintings have more than animals
ShadesShine an apple on your shirt,Shades in Free Verse More Like This
crisp skin & flesh crunchy,
but no taste of the near forgotten
sweet springtime sheddings,
no tastes here,
nothing worth carrying
across the river and nothing you can grasp
will make you better
than the person next to you,
the beggar has his arm around
the lawyer lying on the sidewalk
who is embracing him back with one arm
and fluttering the other to his neck
where Death bit and nestled and
spread like the cancer the beggar had,
like the cancer that has spread here
that no one has but keeps
people distant like black stars
with bridges built out of bewilderment
on spongy, common ground.
Sometimes, the gates will open and
a new citizen comes stumbling in,
still flushed with vivacity and a
peach tinge to their skin and
the wind carries sea salt air, I
smell the creakings of old books
and the seamstress across the street
says its the scent of spinning spools,
the butcher says dead cow and for one
moment I taste chocolate on the wind.
Then they slam close
ListenIn my next life I want to be born as a cave fish,Listen in Free Verse More Like This
evolution dictating that I have milky skin
and blind eyes,
but mostly I just want the obsolete eyes.
I could swim all day in pools
illuminated by the star strokes rippling
from my fins,
I could create the world inside me,
craft it out of the dusk songs of
lapping water and stalactites
and bats cries and
and never be contradicted because
I cant see the evidence to the contrary.
Ill learn how to sing those songs for you,
the notes tart bouquets of shadows
and the lyrics obscure dust and grime
that covers everything in primordial kisses,
as long as you listen.
An Unwelcome EncounterWell-Woven Net, Knot 11: An Unwelcome EncounterAn Unwelcome Encounter in Fan Fiction More Like This
Alessar was roaming around the Denerim market, passing time until his companions were to regroup, when he was distracted by a handsome display of daggers for sale. While graceful in design, the weapons were clearly meant to be functional, and their lines seemed somewhat familiar. Trying to recall why, he paused to examine the blades more closely.
"Ah, another customer. Please, feel free to browse my wares, and do let me know if I can help you with anything."
While the voice was unknown to him, the accent was not, and Alessar finally remembered where he'd seen such craftsmanship before. Zevran's original Crow dagger had been like this: elegantly simple, well-balanced, and razor sharp. He glanced up at the Antivan shopkeeper, who was eyeing him intently.
Maybe he's afraid I'm going to try to steal one, the elf thought a little sourly. He had gotten plenty of dis
Uncomfortable TruthsWell-Woven Net, Knot 6: Uncomfortable TruthsUncomfortable Truths in Fan Fiction More Like This
It was still almost impossible to believe. Had they really, truly, found the Urn of Sacred Ashes, the last earthly remains of the Prophet Andraste?
Alessar brushed his hand over his belt pouch again, knowing that nestled inside, wrapped a tiny envelope of oilcloth, was a pinch of those ashes. They had seen a High Dragon, they had been questioned by the shades of Andraste's contemporaries... they had somehow fought phantom copies of themselves, and they had even walked through fire. All of that to finally come to Andraste's final resting place. For a short time, their worldly concerns had seemed almost trivial in comparison.
He certainly wasn't the most religious person, but it was the Chantry, and their rules and laws and history, that he had little love for. Like many elves, he had a sense of reverence for Andraste herself, for what she had done and the message she had tried
Unguarded MomentsWell-Woven Net, Knot 7: Unguarded MomentsUnguarded Moments in Fan Fiction More Like This
Alessar kept tugging at the hem of his tunic. It was strange not to be wearing at least part of his armor, and stranger still to be wearing such fine clothes. Not that these were overly ornate or formal, but they were better than pretty much anything he'd ever owned, aside from his ill-fated wedding clothes.
The grey and blue tunic and trousers had been provided by Arl Eamon ("Not even gifts, Grey Warden, just a simple courtesy," the arl had said with a tired smile as he had the Wardens' party presented with clean clothes suited to their status), and were slightly too large -- unsurprising, considering his elven stature, after all. But it was a kind gesture, and it certainly wouldn't hurt to have presentable clothing in the future, especially if they were going to be muddling in politics in Denerim...
There was a quiet knock at the door. That was another odd thing -- having a door, let alone an
Rather UnexpectedWell-Woven Net, Knot 1: Rather UnexpectedRather Unexpected in Fan Fiction More Like This
"You do realize this is probably a trap, right?" Alistair murmured as the companions followed the distressed woman who had begged them for help.
"Could be." Alessar glanced sidelong at his fellow Grey Warden. "If it is, we're ready for it. If it's not, then someone honestly needs help."
"Does this altruism really pay all that well?" Morrigan said in the bored, disparaging tone that she used when she was irritated. "Grey Wardens -- roaming the countryside, finding lost children, fixing broken wagon axles and solving marriage disputes. It's all so very noble."
Alessar ignored the woman's pointed remarks. She seldom saw the value in doing what the others considered "the right thing" for the sake of one's conscience. Of course, she had a point, sometimes, and they did have more important tasks, but this was right in their path, after all.
An Unburied RegretWell-Woven Net, Knot 10: An Unburied RegretAn Unburied Regret in Fan Fiction More Like This
Zevran sat near the fire, as was his habit after supper. Frequently, this time was spent mending his gear or sharpening his blades, sometimes accompanied by a bit of chat, sometimes not. Tonight was one of the rare occasions that he had little to work on while the others went about their business, and he found himself examining the pair of Dalish gloves that Alessar had given to him.
The assassin hadn't understood at first; he was perfectly happy with the light, well-worn leather gloves he already had, and it took time to get a new pair of gloves properly broken in. Given the constant threat of werewolf attacks since they'd entered the forest proper, the story about his mother's gloves that he had told the Grey Warden in the Dalish camp had been last thing on his mind in the past couple of days. It was just another of those personal bits of trivia that he seemed to let slip with unsettling re
Unkind CutsWell-Woven Net, Knot 2: Unkind CutsUnkind Cuts in Fan Fiction More Like This
Alessar stood in front of the campfire, arms crossed, and stared morosely into the flames. Their foray into Denerim had been dismal. He supposed he should be happy that they hadn't been caught and turned in to Teyrn Loghain for the bounty on their heads, but other than that, very little had gone well.
Not only had they not found Brother Genitivi, but it seemed that someone had tried to impersonate his apprentice, to throw any callers off of the trail of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Bloody peculiar business, but at least they had been able to find Genitivi's research. It was going to be a long haul to the Frostbacks, looking for the little town of Haven, however; he figured they could stop at the Mages' Tower on Lake Calenhad on the way. He hoped that recruiting the help of the Circle of Magi would be a relatively simple thing, but nothing had been simple so far...
Not even reunit
Undisclosed FearsWell-Woven Net, Knot 5: Undisclosed FearsUndisclosed Fears in Fan Fiction More Like This
Alessar stood at the fringe of the woods, looking back towards the group's campsite. They had had to spend more time than expected fighting the maddened Havenite cultists, and he had no desire to try to climb halfway up a mountain -- with an injured guide -- near or after nightfall. Who knew who (or what) could be waiting up there? Instead, they reluctantly decided to camp for the night, outside of Haven proper; they would make their way up to the old temple in the morning. Genitivi had chafed at the delay, until Alessar pointed out that breaking his other leg while stumbling about on a mountainside would make it very difficult indeed to study the temple at all, once they got there. The scholar finally relented and was now sleeping soundly, probably for the first time in days.
It was getting late; supper had been several hours ago, and most of the others were talking qu
An Unintended TurnWell-Woven Net, Knot 3: An Unintended TurnAn Unintended Turn in Fan Fiction More Like This
Alessar glanced over as his fellow Grey Warden trudged up next to him. The group walked in a loose formation when they were on the move across the countryside, and the elven Warden was currently taking the lead -- not because he actually needed to lead, but because he wanted some time alone to think.
Of course, by now, Alistair knew exactly why his comrade would isolate himself at the front of the column, and usually he would leave him in peace. But they'd become a little closer since the events at Redcliffe, even if Alistair had been furious at Alessar's decision to let Lady Isolde sacrifice herself. They had discussed it at length, and while Alistair was still unhappy about it, he no longer held it against the other Warden. They had tried to do the best they could to keep the greatest number of people safe. These were wartime decisions, and Alessar privately thought
A Most Unlikely AllyWell-Woven Net, Knot 12: A Most Unlikely AllyA Most Unlikely Ally in Fan Fiction More Like This
The Wardens' party had been to the Gnawed Noble Tavern before, assisting the Denerim city guard with some out-of-control mercenaries; the barmaids recognized them, or at least, they recognized Alessar and Zevran, who stood out as openly armed elves, and the group was immediately offered drinks. Alessar demurred politely, saying that they were there for business, and inquired where they might find the Antivan merchant they were meeting.
The girl who answered seemed nonplussed, if not a little nervous, as she directed the party to the first guest room in the back. They entered cautiously, keeping an eye out for anything as mundane as a mechanical trap or a sneak attack, but the way was clear.
Ignacio waited in the innermost room, two silent guards looming in the corners. Alessar knew Alistair and Zevran would make sure their exit route would not be blocked off -- at least, not from the inside -- so for
Unchecked ReactionsWell-Woven Net, Knot 9: Unchecked ReactionsUnchecked Reactions in Fan Fiction More Like This
Alistair held up his shield against the hail of arrows as he looked around, trying to find his fellow Warden amidst the madness of battle. What had caused Zevran to cry out like that?
He only realized that the elven archer had fallen when he saw Wynne making her way towards his supine form, freezing the single genlock in her path with a focused burst of cold. Alistair couldn't make out her expression clearly at this distance, but she didn't look particularly worried...
Zevran, on the other hand, was fighting like a demon, recklessly chasing down genlock archers and single-handedly dispatching them with brutal slashes of his daggers. He was usually quick enough to evade their blundering counterattacks, the templar knew, but he was going to get himself hurt if he was fighting blindly.
"Zevran! Pull yourself together!" he shouted, wondering if the elf would heed him. After all these month
Encounter: Chapter 5Damn, it's been 5 days since Altaïr woke up from the coma thingy. The 14th day in this fucked up hospital. Altaïr is doing fine now, and Lucy feels better about it too. I'm glad. But what's gonna happen next? When are we busting ass out of here? I mean, it's not like I want to go back to Abstergo, but I feel like there is something needed to be done there. I dunno. I don't know what.Encounter: Chapter 5 in Fan Fiction More Like This
- - - - -
Why the hell am I writing this? I mean, noting down how I'm feeling shit. Well, there is nothing else to do other them sit down and scribble. It's only taking up very little time... I'm bored to death... Actually, Altaïr talks to us a lot. He tells me and Lucy stories about himself: places he has been to, his childhood, what is was like back in his time, his life as an assassin. I really think that he's an interesting guy... there's this feel about him. It's different. Everything is OK now but I still feel that there is something going on still in Ab
Encounter: Chapter 7There was finally a light that glowed dimly into the trunk. Desmond could see it through his half-closed lids, and he smelled the open, fresh air above him. His eyes snapped open and he instinctively sucked in air that, for once wasn't dry and stuffy. He saw a shape above him, illuminated by light from behind.Encounter: Chapter 7 in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Lucy?" he asked. Augh. The light hurt after spending so much time in the darkness; he felt like a zombie awakening. Screwing his eyes he tried to sit up. "We're there? Here? Whatever?"
Lucy nodded and someone else joined her. "You look dead," the new person commented in his deep voice. Desmond had to smile at that. Altaïr extended his hand out to him, and Desmond took it gratefully. With a tug Desmond raised himself to a crouch and gingerly jumped/slithered out of the car. It bounced slightly after his exit.
"Ohhh," Desmond groaned and doubled over. A burning ache started in the right half of his body, clenching and unclenching. His feet and hands felt numb, than tingled as
Encounter: Chapter 6"... so we're discharging you today."Encounter: Chapter 6 in Fan Fiction More Like This
At those words Desmond breathed a sigh of relief. It was what they had been waiting for, so many days. At last Altaïr was well enough to leave the hospital.
The weeks spent here had been bitingly torturous, mentally and physically. It had been hard to stay in a small place for much of a day and worry ate at his mind.
On the other hand, in such close proximity with Altaïr unsettled him. The overwhelming desire to touch him warred with his sanity and relationships with him and Lucy. Two different things, walls he shouldn't breach but if he did, what would happen? Ever since the night he had so nonchalantly caressed Altaïr's face, he'd been even more disturbed. Desmond shook his head in disgust to clear away his thoughts and paid attention to Lucy again.
She was discussing arrangements and Altaïr's condition with the nurse now. Since it didn't really involve Desmond much he went over and squatted next to Altaïr's bed. A
Encounter: Chapter 12"No. This can't be happening..."Encounter: Chapter 12 in Drama More Like This
Desmond sat on the ground like a small child, his legs crossed with his head in his hands. "This doesn't be make any sense."
He felt a light touch on his shoulder and when he looked up he saw the piercing hazel eyes of the Italian assassin looking at him with mild concern. "Are you all right?"
"No, I'm good." It came out sounding like a question. Rising up steadily now, Desmond tried to regain his composure. This had to be one of the most undignified things he'd ever done--freaking out in front of a man like Ezio Auditore! And from what he'd seen in the Animus, Ezio was a pretty tough guy, but he was such a kind friend, brother, son, nephew, lover, that Desmond was sure that Ezio would understand. But poof, there went his first impression moment.
It was foolish of him to be thinking such things at the moment, and he felt silly. What was more important was the matter of Ezio, Altair, and the Animus that (perhaps, probably, most likely, definitely) brough
Encounter: Chapter 4It had been 9 days since Altaïr had been admitted into the hospital. The first 7 days were in the Intensive Care unit. Days of waiting... worry... unknowing... Since in the IC, visitors were not allowed to stay. They could come and go and certain hours but were not able to stay in the room with him for the night. So Desmond and Lucy lived in the hotel a few blocks away from the hospital for a week. Everyday visits were made to Altaïr, but all this time he was unconscious. Maybe it was a coma; the doctors didn't know. Lucy thought it was an effect from the Animus as this was different from other coma states.Encounter: Chapter 4 in Fan Fiction More Like This
Than on the 8th day, Altaïr was moved to the normal wards, as the doctors declared him healing quite well from his many wounds. Much to Desmond's and Lucy's relief. But Altaïr was still not awake, which troubled the couple and confused the doctors. There was no telling when he would wake up from this... nothingness.
When Altaïr changed units, Desmond and Luc
Encounter: Chapter 10Ezio heard the footsteps pounding behind him and the angry voices shouting death threats. Shocked civilians scrambled out of his way, gasping at the sight of the chase.Encounter: Chapter 10 in Fan Fiction More Like This
The white-hooded assassin looked back over his shoulder to check on his progress. Even though he was running as fast as he could, there were two guards quickly gaining on him.
Shit! Run! he yelled at himself. There was no chance to fight against so many people without getting seriously injured, or worse, dead. His legs were getting tired but he couldn't afford to stop if he wanted to get away with his life.
He rounded a corner in the busy street, searching for a way to lose the guards. With his heart pounding in his chest, he made a split-second decision to awkwardly duck into an alleyway.
Taking precious seconds, he took a couple steps back to make a running start for a wall. Leaping up he grabbed an outstanding brick and began to haul himself up.
By then, the guards had found him and were yelling angrily from b
Encounter: Chapter 3Desmond and Lucy were still crouching together, his arm around her shoulders, when the paramedics finally arrived. Footsteps sounded down the hallway, many voices too.Encounter: Chapter 3 in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Right here!" one of them called above all the others. The group of paramedics moved into the lab. There were about five.
Reluctantly Desmond pulled his arm away and he and Lucy stood up. The head paramedic headed towards them, a serious look on her face. "Tell me what has happened," she ordered kindly.
Immediately Lucy took charge. She didn't exactly lie, nor tell the truth either. She made a good sound of pretending to be scared. "This man. We found him here, just on the ground. He had several wounds- we tried to treat him."
"What kind of wounds?" the paramedic asked, holding a paper.
"I don't know." It was best to lie, that way he didn't have to explain. Desmond shot a look at Lucy. Get out of this situation- fast. But take care of Altaïr.
For the next few minutes Desmond and Lucy were questioned. What
Encounter: Chapter 8And so Desmond was left alone with Altaïr. Could luck get any worse than that for him? Other than that he was kidnapped, kept hostage by an organization straight out of history, and not knowing if you'd still be alive the next day? Well, not technically, but everything sounded better when you exaggerated facts.Encounter: Chapter 8 in Fan Fiction More Like This
Anyways, it wasn't so bad when you were lying on a bed and dead-beat.
He couldn't understand why he felt this way for Altaïr. Firstly, he was a guy. That totally went against his supposed straightness. Secondly, he was related to him, even is somewhat distantly. And, he loved Lucy! Lucy!!
This stupid desire for him...
"Are you all right?" Altaïr asked, his soft footsteps tapping the floor as he walked towards him.
He sat down on the bed next to Desmond, making it creak slightly. "You seem very out of it."
"As I said before, tired.'
"You looked very tense."
"Ah, well." Was he? He tried to loosen his body and imagined himself melting into the bed, wit
Encounter: Chapter 2As if on cue, Lucy rushed into the lab. She muttered something about Dr. Vidic needing her for something. Her high heels clicked as she walked to the Animus purposefully only to stop when she saw Altaïr.Encounter: Chapter 2 in Fan Fiction More Like This
"How did this happen?" she demanded, knowing that neither Desmond or she knew.
"I don't know. The Animus screwed." Desmond eyed Altaïr, almost fearfully. The aura around the Animus was smoldering and had a dangerous feel...
Lucy seemed really stunned to see Altaïr. Blood she did not mind, but to just see him there... it was painful to just look at his wounds or the look of pain and failure on his blank face. For a moment she stood stock still, unsure of what to do or say. Be sensible! her thoughts yelled at her. Report it to Dr. Vidic! Clean this up!
"Help him," Desmond begged. His dark brown eyes looked beseechingly into Lucy's blue ones.
Shaking her head Lucy sighed. "I can't. He's gone." It seemed so, seeing how much Altaïr had bled. There was almos
Encounter: Chapter 11Desmond blinked at Ezio, feeling stupid. He was stunned by the entire turn of events he was experiencing. Fuck, this was crazy. How is it possible for his ancestors to practically come back from the dead, not to mention travel in time? Wasn't his life already so messed up? What did he do to deserve this? He wasn't a bad man. Well, maybe he did get himself into shitty situations more often than nor but it--Encounter: Chapter 11 in Drama More Like This
He shut his mouth as he realized he was blathering out loud like a madman. Ezio was staring at him. Since when had he started to talk aloud?
Desmond started to apologize for being so freaky, but he heard the door creak open and he turned to see who it was.
"Desmond? Lucy?" Altaïr called out, walking calmly into the room. As he neared them, he must have seen the stranger as a threat, because he froze and stiffened. A hard mask came over him and he growled, "What's this? May you be stabbed by a di--"
"Altaïr," Lucy cut him off sharply, looking from him to the It
wake upIwake up in Free Verse More Like This
get out of bed, forget all the shit your dreams said
spin the starlights in your head
get your morning shave
put on coffee and
the radio- checking for the traffic,
blues upon your stereo,
or else fuck that and lets stay here.
eyes like moon hanging under clouds:
half-shaded and feral, you see
costumed living dancing on the day of the dead
but then daddy you know its all the same;
the street is blowing up in heat
the people are all giving the signal
(secret shaded eyes that paint a flash in the mind;
the object of desire on the chessboard)
a bomb went off on E Street
and you were standing on the sidelines,
taking note of the wreckage
baby you can start a fire:
with your lazy eyes
your Columbia movements
avocado mind (salted and sweat)
it doesnt make an inch of difference;
let's pack our things together,
throw off the dust
killers blood- love
television bluessmoke rose up like the devil fromtelevision blues in Free Verse More Like This
tarmac and potholes,
steamed out from the dont walk signs
flashing into your brain
an illuminated popsicle in the darkness;
smoke and summer in your cats bones
tv voodoo love machine in musical catgut
i am the darkest love tunnel youll ever meet and my
mayan sign is death.
some people think theyre always right,
others are quiet and uptight-
if it aint too much to ask,
on this fine neon night
take me out to dinner, fool around some-
forget all about me and
never try to call me again.
bam! sed the colt 45,
cherry bombwhen you pass,cherry bomb in Free Verse More Like This
all the spanish guys
with barrio eyes
remark on the lovely summer swing
of your walk
and the way your even skin says
honey to the birds---
what they don know, ti bella,
is that youre a gunslinging cowboy
and that youre set on
bombing and imploding
with a streak of emblem lipgloss.
la barcelonetaIn Puerto Rico,la barceloneta in Free Verse More Like This
a flower bloomed-
thick skinned and petals
exuding the soft, rank breath
You, standing in the sun, by the water-
in front of Conquistador city sidewalks;
in a song.
Shirtless, on the prowl-
Bound in heat and all wound up in muscle,
Art along your
Your body is an
but to me it's somethin sweet.
Your clean sheets in the morning,
shower mist into the claws of summer heat-
perfectayour body-perfecta in Free Verse More Like This
the curved smell of white soap,
the tangle of your pale skin.
and you've got winter in your eyes-
ice flowers on your mouth.
it's nothing but some radiation,
nothing but a little
your hips like gunpowder,
explosive down the street...
cowboy, flick off ash, and
become, in the summer breeze,
beautiful 6your mind is deluded,beautiful 6 in Free Verse More Like This
your head is thick.
you strike out like a snake,
and you always hit the parts
that hurt the most.
and you do it on purpose.
your brain is all gray matter, working on the subconcious-
the way you move is like coffee,
you dont take care of yourself.
your thick skin is calloused and your Catholic pulse is
spinning you out into art.
slowly becoming a child again.
you are all nails.
i know though that,
underneath it all,
you cry, and cry.
and that is why i dont say anything.
Death Valley, CA"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,Death Valley, CA in Free Verse More Like This
I will fear no evil: For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;
Thou annointest my head with oil; My cup runneth over." -23rd psalm
"As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for I'm the baddest motherfucker in the valley." - General Patton
In the swimming heat,
The glaring sunshine-
Beneath the veranda of a cigarette,
And through the mist of blood and dirt-
I find you by my side.
This aint no dissertation.
Along the California beach-
(through Vietnam clouds of mosquitoes)
Home is where the heart is;
Lilacs and underneath the soil, the bodies of the dead,
Spirits rising up and
Coursing through my veins.
A slight piano so
feelin like a dog in the yardGirls, dont go crazyfeelin like a dog in the yard in Free Verse More Like This
when men use you
You was prolly askin for it,
she sed with a curling mouth,
Not that i know much.
And anyway the same thingd happened to her-
so why even give it attention? she thot.
Since ya cant have your cake n eat it too,
I just hang out in back-
by the limits of shadows,
suspended in subtle
and not havin any concious part in any of it.
Since it doesnt matter much to me anyway,
I just dont get involved.
Its not a good feelin
to see some girl crying,
Oriental red and blackbird fake lashes
done up in vain: amassing stupidity;
or else some guy,
staring empty at hi
jamiethis has gotta be the worst news yet-jamie in Free Verse More Like This
when the devil found out you was pregnant,
he did a jig.
bagpipes in Hell and
steel magnolias playing on a
universal TV set.
thats pretty much as bad as it can get for me.
i know i said it was alright,
but just leave the money at the door
and thatll be the end.
romance without financeghosts on guitarromance without finance in Free Verse More Like This
the dark blue was crowding around,
rebelling against one swinging light;
girls with perfume, wild hair
(child eyes, and torn stockings,
walked windy down the avenues of night-
his gold ring glittered on his finger
relic of the cartel, beaming past the storming sand.
but in the morning,
the dream of that dissolved-
traces were hard to pick up.
only lemons and lightwood,
after soap scents curled around your fingers-
spinning honey sun.
Elf vs. Orc 5Sings-to-Trees's primary thought through the whole violent encounter was Not the throat again!Elf vs. Orc 5 in Fantasy More Like This
His neck hurt. He felt like a troll had used his esophagus as a dance floor. This could not be healthy. If he lived through this, he swore he would be nice to his throat for the rest of the year. Hot teas. Scarfs during winter. Anything.
For awhile, he didn't think he was going to live to see sunrise, let alone winter.
Then she'd apologized. The orc had stood there, with a distinctly sheepish expression on her face, and she'd apologized.
None of his patients ever apologized. Most of them couldn't talk, and it didn't seem to occur to the ones who could.
Half of him wanted to reply automatically—No, it's okay, these things happen, don't worry about it—and the other half was jumping up and down screaming You just tried to kill me, you green-faced lunatic! You can't just apologize for trying to kill people!
Perhaps fortunately, his throat was aching too badly
Elf vs. Orc 9Sings-to-Trees' head shot up. He knew Fleabane's barks like the back of his hand. Short, rapid barks, not grating, hysterical ones--somewhere between a greeting and a warning. Fleabane knew the person approaching, but he didn't really like them.Elf vs. Orc 9 in Fantasy More Like This
That meant it was either one of the humans from down the road (excepting Matilda, who brought cheeses and always had a tidbit for a hungry coyote) or the rangers.
"Shit!" Sings-to-Trees leapt to his feet and began kicking Celadon's armor under the bed, followed by the extra blankets.
Celadon got unsteadily to her feet. "What is it?"
"Company. Might be rangers."
She could have asked questions, like "Are you going to turn me in?" or "Why are you panicking, if they're your people?" but Celadon was not inclined to waste time on stupid questions. She looked around hurriedly for a hiding place.
Sings-to-Trees caught her elbow. "Do you trust me?"
"Does it matter?"
"I suppose not."
Getting her into the hiding place was awkward, but Celadon took it in s
An Evening With Sings-to-TreesAn Evening With Sings-to-Trees in Fantasy More Like This
Sings-to-Trees had hair the color of sunlight and ashes, delicately pointed ears, and eyes the translucent green of new leaves. His shirt was off, revealing the sort of tanned muscle acquired from years of healthy outdoor living, and you could have sharpened a sword on his cheekbones.
He was saved from being a young maiden's fantasy—unless she was a very peculiar young maiden—by the fact that he was buried up to the shoulder in the unpleasant end of a heavily pregnant unicorn. Bits of unicorn dung, which was not noticeably more ethereal than horse dung, were sliding down his arm, and every time the mare had a contraction, he lost feeling in his hand.
It had been nearly two hours, the ground was hard and cold and his knees felt like live coals wrapped in ice. She'd kicked him twice, and if Sings-to-Trees hadn't known that it was impossible, he'd have begun to suspect that the unicorn had arranged a breech birth out of spite.
No, he was being unfair. It couldn't be any more fun for her t
Elf vs. Orc 7This was easier said than done.Elf vs. Orc 7 in Fantasy More Like This
She gave him some very practical suggestions about how to tie the ropes. A bit of slack between the feet, enough to shuffle, not enough to run. A rope around the neck as a kind of leash in case she attacked him. He could tell she'd done this sort of thing before.
Sings-to-Trees, at that point, would have been happy just untying her completely and pointing her in the direction of the outhouse, but he had a horrible feeling he'd disappoint her if he didn't at least try to hold up his end. So he steeled himself to stay awake a bit longer and got the ropes set up, and hauled her out of the bed.
Then she wound up needing to use him as a crutch anyway, since her knees kept buckling, so it was a bit of a moot point.
"Can you hold this?" he asked, handing her the leash rope after a few brutal hops toward the door.
"What if I try to escape?"
He sighed. "Just yank it if you feel yourself getting any ideas."
She started laughing, then they took another step and the
Elf vs. Orc 2Celadon Toadstool was delirious.Elf vs. Orc 2 in Fantasy More Like This
The funny bit—uproariously funny, it seemed to her—was that she knew she was delirious. The world was billowing around her. It looked as if someone had meticulously painted the inside of a cottage on silk, and then hung it in a gentle breeze. The corners floated inward and collapsed back out again with a sigh.
That someone would go to all that trouble, painting a cottage on silk, was hilarious.
She knew she was wounded. She couldn't quite remember how she'd been wounded. Imagine not remembering a thing like that!
This also struck her as hilarious.
Her name, in Orcish, was Urrsharruk-gah, and she had skin the delicate gray-green of the gills of cave mushrooms, and eyes the color of stolen gold. Her hair was thick and dark and she wore it tucked under her helmet to keep enemies from being able to grab it, which was problematic, because she'd lost her helmet somewhere along the way, and she wasn't in the best of shape anyway.
Even in her immense good humor
Elf vs. Orc 6He got a nasty start a few hours later, when he came in to check on her.Elf vs. Orc 6 in Fantasy More Like This
He'd tied her hands, her feet, thrown a loop or two around her waist, and roped everything to the bed, the chair, and the fire iron, just for good measure, He'd done everything short of hog-tying. She wasn't going to get loose in a hurry.
He wasn't sure why he was bothering, really, since he had a horrible feeling that if she said "Will you untie me?" he might do it, and if she said "please," he'd definitely do it.
Still, she didn't seem to be a threat conscious, so maybe that was okay.
Then, because his feelings were still churning and there was nothing for emotional turmoil like hard work, he'd gone off, fed the chickens and the gargoyle, picked peas, turned the compost heap, washed his hands and made soup. By the end, he was really quite exhausted, and ready for at least a nap in his chair.
Then he came back in to discover that her fever had vanished and she was shivering violently with cold.
Elf vs. Orc 4She let him go. She couldn't do much else. He was an elf, sure, but there were rules, and you didn't kill healers and you didn't kill priests.Elf vs. Orc 4 in Fantasy More Like This
The rage had to go somewhere. You couldn't go from halfway to gnawing your shield back to normal just like that. Celadon swallowed it, bitterly, the stone shattering, the red sea pouring through the wreckage. She threw her head back and snarled with the pain.
The elf lay sprawled on the ground beside the bed, holding his throat, his eyes closed. He was breathing in tight little gasps. She could have stomped on his head, but of course she wouldn't.
She was furious. Mostly at herself, truth be told. It had been so obvious. He'd checked her bandages, he hadn't been wearing armor, and this was as far from a cell as you could get. What more did she need, a sign saying "Non-combatant, please do not throttle," in several languages? But she'd been so mad—and scared, yes, let's be honest with ourselves—that she hadn't seen past the Enemy.
Elf vs. Orc 3Sings-to-Trees was being strangled.Elf vs. Orc 3 in Fantasy More Like This
He'd always expected a patient to kill him some day, but he'd thought he would be a lot older, and it would be an angry bull or a careless moment with a manticore or something along those lines, with an outside chance of being crushed under a nearsighted troll. He really hadn't anticipated anything like this.
The orc had been giggling to herself for a few minutes, and when he tried to talk to her, she only giggled harder. He didn't know if she could speak any of the languages, or if she was so delirious that she wasn't even hearing him. He had no real idea what the normal temperature for an orc was, but her skin burned against his fingers, and if he had to guess, he'd say she was running quite a high fever.
There was something very surreal about a giggling orc. It wasn't malicious, like when pixies left flaming piles of pixie-crap on your doorstep and hid to watch you step in it. This was a throaty, genuinely amused chuckle—reduced to a s
Elf vs. Orc 8Celadon woke up in the elf's arms.Elf vs. Orc 8 in Fantasy More Like This
This sounded a lot more romantic than it actually was.
For one thing, learning to sleep in proximity to another person is an acquired skill. You learn what to do with the arm that always seems to get stuck between you and where to put your feet and whether they mind having a leg draped over theirs and who can use whose arm as a pillow without nerve damage or a sore neck. Then there's the whole complex negotiation of blanket treaties and sheets and who gets what and who needs layers and who has to stick their feet out.
Without acquiring these vital habits, you wake up pretty much like Celadon—stiff, sore, with a knee wedged into your ribs and blankets tangled around both of them like sleeping anacondas.
While it's traditional when parties of the opposite sex find themselves entangled for someone's hands to be in an embarrassing position, that actually wasn't the case. She was pretty much in the elf's lap, where one of his knees was up and digging into
It Was A DayIt was a day a little bit like todayIt Was A Day in Free Verse More Like This
the way the clouds threw shadows over the hill
the day you realized that you weren’t going to find your future.
You were never going to go to Mars
You were never going to open the door that led, inexorably, to Narnia
(or even Telmar, you weren’t picky, and you were confident of your ability
to lead the revolution.)
Inigo Montoya was not going to slap you on the back
and invite you to take up the mantle of the Dread Pirate Roberts.
There would be no sardonic Vulcans or Andorians;
you would never be handed an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.
That was a strange day.
It ranked up there with the day that you realized that everybody else saw the you in the mirror, not the you inside your head. Not the you that was lean and tough and clever, not the you with perfect hair and a resonant voice that never said “Um….?”
Not that you.
No, they got the one that was fat and wobbly and stiff inside with