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 “Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like.” – James 1:23-24 |
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January 2004
Archives Gift Wish List About Me Poetry (coming soon) Prose (coming soon) Photography (coming soon) Email Me The following entries are fictitious although sometimes inspired by real-world events. |
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| Saturday,
January 17th, 2004 - The Motley Knight I awoke today with memories of a dear friend who passed away about half a year ago... I
stood staring out over the cliff over a
dreary moor where
so many had died in battle. I looked over my shoulder to see the
citadel in the distance and wondered how many men before me have had to
battle over these moors? The sun was rising and it was a
beautiful day
despite the drab appearance of the moors below. How incredibly deceptive,
I thought to myself. That a land so bland could be home to hoards
of
beasts and dazzling demons. I could see little lights dancing
here and
there; small will-o-whisps that drew unsuspecting men into the moors
which seemed safe enough to those who knew not its darker
secrets. I
watched the lights swirl around and felt almost disgusted -- perhaps
insulted, but then I saw a different light. In the rising
sunhine I
had seen the glint of armor and I peered closer, leaning dangerously
over the edge of the cliff. I saw someone walking into the moors
but who was
it? I
had seen that armor before, an armor of mixed and matched pieces from
different armies, and he was riding a horse. A
horse! Oh no!
It couldn't be our visitor? A man from my own army who dwelt in
the
citadel as well had brought his brother from his homeland. Both
of
them were skilled horsemen and had traveled from town to town living as
trick horsemen and messengers. One, my fellow soldier, had joined
the
regiments of the Salt Citadel and had turned his riding skills to its
defense. The other served under a different allegience yet had
joined
a guild that crossed the different kingdoms and he had collected armor
from each. What was he doing down there? Our kingdoms both
hated and
feared these moors for the loss of life they had caused. Could he
be
insane enough to think that he could take on the moors by himself? The whisps danced with delight. I peered out over the moors in the direction he was heading and saw a group of huddled figures being slowly revealed by the rising sun. What are they? I pondered and raced through my mind over the dangers I had been told about, but I had never seen one for myself. It could have been any of the great number of monsters. Do I run for help? Is there time? No--but I'm not prepared to fight any of the creatures out there. and then I saw the shadows rise into the air on great black wings and I could faintly hear their hypnotic song in the air. Harpies! I saw the rider draw his sword and charge at their nest. Can he not see, I thought, the trap that they have set? But he charged full on into the nest of harpies wrapped within their song of seduction -- a song that hung in the air like sticky web and clung to your lungs like smoke. NO! screamed my soul and I found myself diving off the cliff where I stood watch. I thrashed my arms out as I tore through their song, falling ever faster to the ground where my friend stood. Each strand seemed to fill my nostrils and whipped my skin 'til I could see blood ooze. At each cut I could feel the horror of depression, anger, hate, and desperation, but I dared not stop... could I stop?!? I suddenly realized that I was falling uncontrollably to the ground and a note of panic rang in my head. I looked down at him again and saw him walking upon a path of their magical web; already I could see that he was clothed in their fabric as if wrapped in a coccoon. I closed my eyes.I can't do this alone. I opened
my eyes and saw a swirl of feathers -- not black but white. I was
suddenly lying on top of two giant white wings. Each beat of
those magnificent wings rang out an angelic song which cut through the
horrid singing of the harpies. I closed my eyes again, and when I
opened them once more I was on the ground beside the motley
knight. He lay unconcious while I tore off the cocoon.
* * * "What happened?" he said, blinking at me. "I don't know," I lied, as I grabbed the reins of his horse. "Lets head back to the Citadel." "No, I was on my way to..." "Where?" "I was going for a ride." "Mind going for a walk instead?" "Ah no, I don't want to bother you." "No bother at all," I persisted, urging him away from the moors. "There is a pleasant grove over on the other side of the river over there." He tried many more times to evade my company but I refused to let him leave. We walked all day together around the Citadel realms just talking. I asked about his armor and I found that every piece had a story behind it. I had not heard half of his tales when the sun had set and we were once again within the walls of the Salt Citadel. "Thank you," he said. "For what?" "For being with me today. I...well...I was going to do something stupid, but you stopped me. Thanks." "It was nothing. Just promise me...don't ever go out there again." "I promise...for as long as I reside within your Citadel." I narrowed my eyes at this. "Very well then, I suppose I can not ask you to do any more than that." As I walked to my room, I passed by his brother and just smiled. * * * A week later he went out for a ride and never came back. He was found on the moors days later and his brother's cries echoed in our walls for days...drowning out my own. I closed my eyes again... * * *
I awoke today
with memories of a dear
friend who
passed away about half a year ago... When I opened my eyes I saw
a note on the windowsill with a white feather beside it: He fought until the end.
Sunday, January 18th, 2004--For my Templar One night I cried with an angel, I cried with my brother, and it rained. Thursday, January 22nd, 2004--A Prayer of Redeeming Tears and Silent Bard I stood there staring at him and felt the fire which burned within and spewed forth sparks and embers upon my flesh. His eyebrows furrowed, his tounge -- deft as fallen angels, his heart cried out for justice. Justice of all things! When mercy for our pathetic quarreling is ten thousand times more than what we deserve. I am tired tired of all this rotten filth that falls from the skies like putrid rain too rancid even for maggots to eat Your words have burned like the words of so many others I crawl searching for a bit of cool water to ease my wounds and wash me of this acidic sludge which eats away at my soul I look down upon my own hands and see the grit and grime in every pore. and clasp them together in agony. To the sky I look so dull and gray to the sky my heart shouts out I Love You is all I manage to say two thin streams of water pour forth from my eyes. ----- Silent Bard I look at her and wonder at how many times she has asked me if I was okay. So many times that I had fallen into just a calm and simple silence when she inquires of my mood and well being. I look at her and wonder why she does not ask me this time... when finally I would tell her that I was not okay, just to let someone know? Perhaps it was better the way it happened, for no amount of talking would have helped. Perhaps the thought would have helped. It's the thought that counts, right? *shrug* ah well, the crisis seems to be over. This silent bard is setting up camp with a few others between the two kingdoms. At times like these, I am no soldier -- I am no samurai -- and I hold no fielty, alliegance, nor tie to any land save one: the path, O straight and narrow and pressing ever onward. And so I walk on.
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