I'm not much of a poet, but I really felt like writing poetry. Hope you like it.
I stand here, all alone,
With darkness all around.
Yet even in this nothingness
I hear a little sound.
I hear you whisper in my ears,
I hear you laugh, I hear you cry.
A feeling wells inside my heart
That nothing can describe.
I feel Death coming nearer;
I don't know what to do.
And in that very second,
I know that I need you.
With one look, one breath, one faltering step
Everything went dark
With one voice, one cry, one moment in time
Everything became nothing
With one word, one touch, one last glance
Everything fell apart
With one prayer, one plea, one desperate hope
We struggle to believe
With one call, one word, one sorrow-filled voice
All hope is broken
With one scream, one moan, one terrorized pain
My heart is rent
With one gasp, one sob, one-hundred hot tears
The night is sleepless
It would have surprised some people to discover that the day Walter Blythe died was only the second worst day of young Una Meredith's life. The worst day was when Walter had bid her farewell at the train station and laid a chaste kiss on his young lover's lips that burned still on her skin. As his train had disappeared beyond Ketter's Hill she had shivered and shook with a terrifying premonition as Dog Monday threw himself after the train, howling a dirge, and Shirley Blythe had flung himself after the dog and restrained the sobbing, loyal creature.
~o~O~o~
Dedicated to Emilie Parker, who was killed in the school shooting in Newton, Connecticut, on December 14th, 2012.
Early morning
Sunrise smile
I twirl her around
She’s such a big girl now
Already six years old
But my girl Emilie, she’ll always be
Daddy’s little girl to me
Early morning
Off to school
She turns and she smiles
Oh how I love that girl
My little angel, walking away
Never could I’ve guessed
That this would be her last day
*This story is NOT fictional, but there wasn't a non-fiction section. ;)
-(1)-
It would be so. If the Shadow Man came at night, then day would be his shelter. If the dark harbored evil things then light would be his fortress. A king in his empty, empty castle. But there was no light here, not a scrap to be found or a sound to be hear. There was no color. It was as was.
Wind of Night
The house deep in the lonesome valley
Where a tired child once lay
Where a slumbering couple dreamed of happiness
Where darkness had come to abide
The walls once contained complete joy
A little boy with all his toys
The family wallowing in bliss
Ne’er expecting deaths’ cruel kiss
The wind howling a murderous tune
The trees cackling beneath it
The air was thick with palpable misery and woe
The child’s moans masked by the wind
She flirted with death,
buried
her face in his black hoodie,
arms ‘round his waist as if they shared a motorcycle.
She breathed in his place, breathed in his scent,
and it was sickly sweet like
the rotted body
of an overripe strawberry.
But death’s ribcage is not for show;
his stopped heart needed only time to grow fond,
inexorably, of her fearless nearness.
Her tantalizing dance on his edges
rattled his bones to their marrow.
She would have grown old waiting for him
EXT. ENCAMPMENT - HILL - DAY
The team crouches behind some rocks.
Tuor peeks over one of the boulders.
He exchanges a glance with Aerandir.
They all look at each other, and move towards the camp.
The team makes their way into a main tent.
Tuor, Lessien and Valandil stop by the tent opening and watch while Aerandir opens a small, wooden chest.
He pulls a stuffed animal and a carved statuette out of the chest.
The team looks hopefully at Aerandir.
BRIAN
Think this one’ll work?
TANNER
I dunno... I hope so.
Part III