Chapter Two: Darkness
Yet when I hoped for good, evil came; when I looked for light, then came darkness. ~Job 30:26
“Tell us where they are,”
I tasted blood on my lips.
Footsteps approached. I tried to scream, but the gag ate my words.
Mother entered first. Devin’s sword caught her in the throat, tracing an evil necklace of blood. She fell to the ground, unable to scream.
Part One: "You Don’t Know Who You’re Dealing With"
Ardranath stormed out of the room, fuming. But even after he slammed the door, he could hear his mother- his stepmother- weeping. The sound of her tears caused his to hesitate and ask himself why he hated her so much.
No, he didn’t hate her. That was a word reserved just for Noorsaah, his father. He only resented his stepmother- which was likely his father’s fault. He had brought her there, all too soon after what had happened. His son’s wounds hadn’t healed, and now he was sworn to resent that woman forever.
Falling in love can be likened to falling off a high-rise. In both cases, if there is nothing below to catch you, you will end up with a shattered heart or a shattered body.
And yet, knowing that, we fall in love anyway - hoping, praying and trusting that the other person will be able to hold our hearts safely in their hands.
But when they don't, whether because they cannot or will not reciprocate your feelings, the very fragile heart shatters...and it is a rather nasty thing when you realise that your heart is shattering in front of you.
Onna felt sweat trickling down her back beneath her shawl. Oh, that Jevran, she fumed.
Never mind that he was a good-hearted boy, beneath all that bluster. This time, something nasty in his drink at supper would be far too good for him. She heartily flicked the reins on the horse’s back. Imagine, talking her, a ninety-year-old woman—though she’d never admit that aloud—into smuggling Varian out of the castle!
Wow, I don't really like this anymore. Nothing is tying together!! But I'll finish it, then begin on my *super hero voice* SECOND DRAFT!!!!! I have a whole new storyline planned, and I can't wait!
I don't know you
but I see your face, in black and white
and brown and grey
and yellowed paper,
torn, frayed
I don't know your name
But your pen has etched words between pages,
half-read, half-wondered,
smoothly curlicued
Hello there!
and Muskaka Avenue
I don't know you,
but there are weddings, deaths
communion, baptism,
flowers
I don't know your name
but there's someone smiling
up from brittle pages,
and a tiny television set, brand new
and black and white,
The horse ran through the field, his long black mane shining in the sunlight. It was a tall beast, with a broad chest and delicate lags built for speed. Its chestnut coat, dark mane, and arched neck seemed better suited for a royal procession than hard farm work. The horse had been bought with the understanding that he would work for his feed, but the boy watching him had often dreamed of riding his horse across the finish line of the kingdom’s most prestigious race. Gerhard leaned against the top post of the split rail fence and watched his horse.
(Though not strictly fiction, it isn't actually an essay.)
Where exactly the inspiration for this came from, I don't know. I was sitting in the kitchen, watching some food cook, when I suddenly began to think of animal crackers, and what an environmentalist liberal would think about them. Enjoy!
Animal Crackers: Harmless Snack
or Environmental Threat?
