Land of the Free
What would the first fathers say if they could see,
The twisted end of their great beliefs.
A nation built for freedom falls,
To ruin, control, and internal wars.
Our blindness binds us to a social norm,
Media screaming to conform.
They say, “be yourself!” “speak your mind!”
This current mantra is a lie.
Step a foot out of their line,
Your voice is choked, your hands are tied.
While ignorant masses lead their clashes, fighting for a cause that’s blind,
Our country crumbles into chaos, not looking forward nor behind.
Too focused on our pointing fingers, starting fights, and casting stones,
we will cry for peace for justice, but in the end we eat our own.
The watchers vigil
The harbor was silent with age, and the mist that hung heavily over the water, seemed to still the world and quiet the gentle lapping of the gray swells.
A single figure stood on the edge of a crumbling stone pier, unmoving as if caught up in the same timelessness that flowed trough the air.
Aearandein gazed out across the dark shrouded ocean of Lanaia, his deep green eyes ancient and weary.
The Fortress port had not always been desolate and forsaken as it was now. It had once been the greatest hub of trade and the capital of the Silvi realm, bursting with life and activity.
Now, Deleienvail was a mere shadow of what it once had been, its crumbling walls, eroding statues, and empty fountains, bearing testament to what had once been the pride of the Silvian people.
The ocean fortress Deleienvail, had seen many trials but had always stood through them all, unyielding to attack, storm, or magic. But then the men had come. They were unlike anything the Silvian people had ever seen. Where their other enemies knew and feared Silvi magic, these men from the north refused to believe in it at all. They destroyed the Silvi magic with their own, though it wasn’t like any magic the Silvians knew of, for they did not wield it, at least not consciously, but their disbelief fueled a repelling magic so thick that it decimated the Silvi with its force.
The Silvians fled after that, unable to survive within the crush of darkness brought down upon them. With them fled the light of Deleienvail, which had guided the humans of the west for thousands of years, and without its bastions the fortress crumbled, succumbing to the darkness.
The Silvi ships had departed like swans across the ocean in a stream of brilliant white sails and arching sterns. Every ship had departed leaving the once overflowing piers empty of their proud vessels.
Never more did anyone see the magnificent ships of the Silvi grace the waters of Lanaia with their ivory masts, and flying pennants, and the waters of their beloved ocean turned to gray, as the presence of the Silvians forsook its swells.
Still though, thought Aearandein with deep bitterness. The poets descended from the northern men and the western peoples, still sang songs during the long fire lit eaves of the winter moths, of the great and beautiful departure of the people of Deleienvail, who sailed way to places unbeknownst, nearly seven hundred years ago.
Aearandein hung his gray head and clutched his failing heart as he slumped down onto the rubble of the pier. What would he know though? Of the goings on seven hundred years ago? He was just the old man the children called the watcher, because of the way he stared out over the waters. He was only the old man who told the little ones his stories of the old Silvi people, and the tales of their mighty king. The king who would not abandon his fortress. The king they called Aearandein.
The rose hips lay now upon barren thorn, their velvet draping gone-
and see the red breasted soldier sit, to trill the chill of dawn.
But mourn not now, the morn has come, and ere the golden light-
that dance among the hickory and sets the world aright.
The arrant leaves still fall anon, reveling in their dance-
their candy coated splendor show for those who spare a glance.
So hasten now to the spitting flames, around which we huddle tight-
while we spin some scary tales, to give the little ones a fright.
And oh the winds that whip up leaves and tussle up ones hair –
I would dwell always if I could, in my autumn fair.
Forget Me Not
When my eyes close for a final dawn,
will every ounce of me be gone?
Will all my deeds I’ve done be lost?
Will ageless time reap its final cost?
Will my dreams be at last forgot?
Oh my love forget me not.
Forget not those days we looked anon,
to all those things we were dreaming on.
Forget not those fairy frosted morns,
when we would watch for unicorns.
In the valleys cloaked in misty green,
where you were king, and I was queen.
In nostalgic haunts so long forgot.
Oh my love forget me not.
The Final Testament of Captain Silvern
The last will and testament of Elva Levene, Vespra, Elane, Silvern.
The year 30505-30776 4th galactic era
This is my final will, one of the few things I have control over in my life. Unfortunately if anyone thinks Ill make this sappy, than its not your day.
I know that all you grasping polocks are only interested in my famed fortune. If so than today is most certainly not your day either.
First things first, I want to say; Rook Jorentin, you are forbidden from setting foot in my beautiful ship, because if you do I know it will be floating around the cosmos in splinters before the week is out.
Before you complain about the waist of a perfectly good ship, I will tell you that I wish my body to be lain to rest in my beloved vessel and set adrift in the Garaga sector, so I may eternally see my favorite constellations.
I know this is a woefully short and unpoetic final testament, but my ship was basically all I owned, and I think it will be much more fun to let you all guess where I hid my fortune ( have fun with that).
You can all fight it out while I watch and laugh from the after life.
Lastly, I will say I hated most of you while I was alive ( especially you Canatos ) except for maybe Rook who was less of a backstabber than you rotting lot( you still can’t have my ship).
Also, I know it was you who gave me the poison Niara, very smoothly done.
Starsdusk if I’m correct.
Lovey and incurable,and really well done on the delivery, but now I will haunt you till your, not so far off, dyeing day.
See you losers later!
(hugs, kisses, and total obliteration)
“There is something strangely off about the house today”, thought old miss Hanna as she shuffled into the kitchen. She had not heard the scrapings at her door last night, and there was no howling and shrieking in the wee hours of the morning. It was Tappy who made the sounds. That's what she called him ever since he came to her old manor house years ago. Hanna gave a cackle as she remembered the first night he had stayed there. She had heard footsteps tapping slowly back and forth in the hall by her bedroom door till the sun came up. That’s when she named him Tappy, and he never stopped pacing outside her door at night with the same tapp, tapp, taping. Sometimes she would let him in so he would stop.
She smiled and walked to the place behind the old grandfather clock where he liked to hide during the day.
“Tappy.” She crooned drumming on the side of the clock with her cane. Today was Sunday and she was going to church, but not without saying hello to old Tappy. Miss hana scowled at the wall. the children in town called her mad. She gave another cackle and called “Tappy!”
If they called her mad, she would threaten to feed them to Tappy.
“Tappy!” she screeched hammering harder on the clock.
“Come out lovely, come out and say goodbye to mommy!”
Miss Hanna was angry now.
“Come OUT Tappy!” she screamed hitting the clock so hard that the glass shattered from the front.
Tappy was gone.
A Fear of Fate
People say that no one can outrun fate, but in truth no one has run far enough.
My feet fled over the grass, the delicate petals of hundreds of crimson flowers scattering across the earth like blood in my wake. I was afraid to look behind me, lest I see my pursuer bursting from the dark forest I had left, so I looked ahead to the Grey Mountains that rose before me. They were the pinnacle of the world, where the sun met the peaks of the earth, and burst upon them with a thousand shades of crimson and gold. The forest that I ran from was forest Crüix where the Fey dwell in halls of oak, and great manors
floating in the bows of the elder-birch.
I had already passed through their realm of green twilights, but had not stopped, for I was not yet safe even there. The memory of my fathers cold eyes and hard voice sliced through my mind, bringing with it the image of a leering man with hard eyes. I shook my head violently, refusing to let him into my mind.
I took a gasp of the fragrant air, my lungs and legs burning from running. Always running. There was no rest for me yet, I must reach the Grey Mountains before I was found. I had to find the ancient paths that cut through the peaks, in the days of the Sun-kings, made for quick travel to the forgotten lands nearly a thousand years ago.
When I reached the mountain I stood in its looming shadow and felt shivers run across my skin. For the first time in weeks I stopped running, and just stood and gazed upon the crumbling ruins of the forgotten passes.
I took a shaky breath, reverently running my fingers across the giant corroding carvings that were hewn into the very stone of the mountain. They were twin sentinels, their worn faces turned sternly to the east, and long stone swords of a strange make were clasped in their armored hands, as they stood guarding the entrance to the old path of the kings.
This place was referred to in ancient texts as Arumouŕŕe, the Kings Pass. It cut directly through the mountain, a feat of engineering whispered to be that of the great magic wielders that had fled the mortal world hundreds of years ago.
As I stood in the entrance I found I could believe such a thing, for as I entered, a stillness surrounded me pervading into my very soul and encompassing me with a sense of great power. A strange feeling both ancient yet timeless filled me, as if the passing of time was not a concept here, yet it still felt the nameless years that it lingered in a world where it had been forgotten.
Time passed queerly for me in the passes. I wandered for a long time always moving forward, conscious of what pursued me, yet distant in mind and body for I never rested nor ate. Many days passed, how many I could never tell you exactly, but one day the cold grey of the mountain pass cut off to become a small green vale with blue sky above dotted with fleecy clouds, and wildflowers bending and swaying in the crisp breeze that blew from the mountains all around.
I blinked and took in the silver waterfall that streamed from the mountain face into the valley below, and the sheep and other domestic animals that wandered around the peaceful valley. I was the most surprised however, by the small neat cottage that I was approaching. It had a thickly thatched roof, and a solid oak door with tiny pink roses climbing all over the stone walls. Lavender waved its purple stalks
around the door and a thriving garden spread out around the house.
I cautiously stepped up the cobbled path and hesitated before knocking on the door.
I only waited a moment before it opened to reveal the kindly face of an old man, who peered back at me without a hint of surprise.
“I’ve been waiting for you princess Aloïsia, Peregrina, of Wëstorie,” he said quietly.
I tensed, both from his use of my title and the sound of another human voice after so long. “Wont you please come in?” he offered, stepping to the side so I could pass . I hesitated at the threshold, and he smiled sympathetically at me. “You have nothing to fear princess.” I flinched slightly. “Please call me Aloïse” I murmured as I warily passed him and entered the cottage. He nodded respectfully and closed the door behind me.
“Come” he said, beckoning me to a table where some simple food was laid out as if he had been expecting a guest.
I frowned at the warm bread and newly cut slices of cheese and turned to the old man. “How did you know I would come to this place?” I asked slowly.
He smiled and gestured for me to sit. I obeyed to tired to resist the allure of a comfortable chair.“I know when anyone enters my mountains” he told me as he handed a bowl of potatoes across the table. I frowned, my brow wrinkling in confusion. “Your mountains?”
He nodded and motioned for me to eat. “Who are you?” I asked ignoring him and leaning forwards with curiosity. He only smiled and shook his grey head. “You are young and inpatient. Eat so you may regain the strength you lost on your journey.”
I sighed but obeyed, finding that I was so hungry that the simple food he placed before me was better than anything I had ever eaten in my father courts.
The sunset found me sitting before a fire, well fed and drowsy. I stared into the flickering coals, and vaguely heard the old man come up behind me.
“Are you ready for your questions to be answered little Aloïse?”
I looked up from my broken trance and simply nodded.
He settled himself in a big chair, his timeless blue eyes turning towards mine with a kind light in them.
“I shall start with my name; I am Zephyros the west wind, and I hold dominion over the mountains of the west.”
“The west wind?” I gasped my lips parted in astonishment. He nodded solemnly.
I have watched over the west since before man roamed the earth, and the Feÿri were but children taking there first steps through the wild untamed stretches of the world.
I stood in aw of the being who sat before me in the guise of a quiet old man.
Zephyros continued, saying “its getting late if you wish to make it to the Shores you must leave at dawn.”
“where do I go?”
“You must go to the old man of the sea.”
And so it was. I was awakened at the crack of dawn, given provisions and instruction, and then once more, I ran.
There were long nights and cold ones. Days where I trekked trough abandoned marshland without ever seeing the sun. Some days it rained without end and others were filled with heat so scorching I nearly fainted. But no matter the condition the threat that lay behind me stayed in the back of my mind spurring me forward, causing me to push harder and keep running, until one day I reached the Shores.
I gasped in wonder as I gazed upon the fabled Shores for the first time. I had never seen so much water in any one place. It stretched off far to the horizon where it met and melded with the clear blue heavens. The water glittered and surged with a shushing roaring sound that enveloped me as I walked, then ran down onto the warm white sands of the shore. A breathy laugh burst from my lips and I danced across the sand feeling lighter than I had since I began my journey.
“You have traveled far little one” said a voice that swelled like the tides. I turned to meet the stormy grey eyes of a tall man with long white hair who wore a robe made of the sea.
“Are you the Man of the Sea?” I asked looking upon him in aw.
He lowered his regal head, “I am he.”
I went down on my knees in the soft sand and pleadingly extended my arms. “Zephyros told me to find you to ask your aid.”
“You have run far little one, tell me what you would ask of me.”
“I have been running for such a long time I need somewhere safe where I don’t need to hide.”
“What do you run from little one?”
“Fate,” I replied.
“You have traveled far” said the Man of the Sea, stooping so he could look me in the eyes.
“You have come further than any other mortal has in thousands of years.
You have run to the very brink of your world where the sky meets the waves, but still it is not far enough to outrun fate.”
Tears of defeat gathered in my eyes. “But I’ve come so far…”
“What fate do you run from little princess?”
“I would live my life free of the man my father wishes me to wed, but I was told by a faÿri seer that it was my fate to spend my existance forever under his wicked hand.
I swore then that I would outrun my cruel fate”
The man of the seas eyes softened at the sight of my silent weeping and he drew me to my feet.
“Hush little princess, mourn no more.”
I will take you to a place where fate dose not rule, and you shall be as my daughter.”
I gasped and choked on my sobs of relief and gratefulness.
The Man looked suddenly behind me, then lifted me into the ocean.
“Hurry little daughter fate comes swiftly.”
He carried me carefully sinking deeper and deeper into the blue waters. The last thing I saw before the brine closed over me was a dark figure standing on the white shore watching me as I vanished beneath the waves.
I was safe, fate could not follow me here.
No more fear or hopelessness. No more running.
Tea Time Murders
I sat across from the woman who had raised me and smiled fondly at her, as she placed a cup of tea in my fingers. I was the crown princess, and the only child that my mother was told she would ever bare. However she defied odds and now was expecting a son. I smiled at her as I drank. “I’m afraid you're no longer inheriting the throne” she stated. “Poison?” I asked calmly. She nodded. I smiled fondly at my mother one last time. “I’m afraid neither will your son” I replied as she finished her tea.
A new species has emerged from the ruins of the old war.
They are like nothing I have ever encountered in my whole career as a zoologist.
We named them the Raan after the strange moaning roar they are capable of producing, and some imbeciles mockingly call them Pan, in reference to their strange flat bodies. They really are fantastic creatures, but I am unsure whether or not to call them animals as many do, because of the close contact I have had with the Rann. I have learned since being assigned to the research team, that they are an incredibly intelligent species and amazingly innovative as well!
Unfortunatly many who are unaccustomed to the strange sight of Rann’s flat crablike body, are disgusted by the creatures, especially by the very un-crab like sight of their hundreds of millipede like legs and almost humanoid heads that crane like a turtles from beneath their rust colored shells, and peer about with three pairs of intelligent pupil-less eyes.
I have tried, and astronomically failed, to convince people that they are harmless creatures who only eat by absorbing energy from the nutrient rich mosses and plants that grow up like small gardens from their cracked sells, but humanity is slow to change. Many fear that these strange creatures that we found six years ago, crawling through the radioactive Atlantic dust sea, are invaders or brutal killers. Many band together and cry out in the streets of the metropolises, demanding the extermination of the Rann. I walk sadly up to a Rann who I had nicknamed Flore because of her shell-garden of tiny flowers. She was the youngest Rann in the research base, and had taken a peculiar liking to me. I couldn't help smiling as she lightly skittered her six foot two ton body over to my side and bopped me affectionately with her forehead, while happily blinking her six black eyes down at my face.
“I hope people will see sense and leave you and your kind be” I muttered as I patted her smooth copper head.
Flore let out a mournfully cry, and nudged at my hair, still keening the typical Raaaaraa sounds of her species. “Don’t worry” I soothed giving her another pat. “I wont let anyone take you away...ever.”