God of middle earth (12/n)
Dundro shut the door to his hobbit hole. He adjusted the straps of his rucksack that were chafing his skin. Then he looked into the night.
No light from the heavens nor the ghostly moon could penetrate the gloomy clouds. Thus night, which was usually lit up like day from the jewelled sky, was as dark as pitch. It was the perfect night to make an escape from somewhere. Dundro nodded. He had chosen a good night to execute his plan. He crept silently yet swiftly down the main road.
He was walking, walking... with naught but a pilot flame to illuminate the immediate path. Dundro felt his senses heighten under the influence of adrenaline such that the song of the lark sounded like a symphony in his ears, the crackle of leaves beneath his feet an earthquake.
He continued like this until he decided to divert from the main road and into the cornfields, thus providing more cover against the marauding Enemy. And more cover for them, whispered a voice in Dundro’s head. He quickly shut that voice out.
At last he came to the fence separating grass and cornstalk. He walked round and found a path through the fields. At last, the clouds parted, and the moon shone in full splendour. The ears of corn and wheat far and wide caught its light. Dundro forged ahead, making no noise whatsoever, creeping forward.
the artist.
i always meet people who ask me,
“why the hell do you write.”
“why do you waste your time reading novels.”
well, i don’t have answers to their questions,
because they’re comments...
they end with full stops, not with question marks.
why do i love art?
is it because i love million dollar bills?
but so many great artists died poor. economically.
is it because it helps me heal?
but death and love always hurt. even in literature.
but why do i love art?
i
need
to
answer
it.
because i love listening to stories,
of life.
of people who are lost in the maze of life.
of incidents that i won’t live long enough to experience.
i read to learn.
i read to live.
i write to tell stories,
of my own,
of my beautiful ghosts,
of my dearest love.
if i could tell you what i’ve learnt so far;
a mute girl taught me
how she can’t lie but her life itself was a lie,
a queer cowboy taught me
how life is so much more than tags.
a doctor’s last day at college
taught me not to have any regrets.
a failed artist taught me
the beauty of the world is in its complexity.
a blind guy taught me
how he can see everything, just the way we can unsee.
there are so many stories to be told,
like never before.
i have words.
so many of them.
even if i had just a few;
i’d have shuffled them
switched them,
to write poetry.
why?
Because i want to live life....
just put a title....while I take my nap
Me? eh- well I stayed in bed, I guess. I did plan my life but I just didn’t have enough courage to throw my sheets away, make a cup of coffee and do a damn thing. Or maybe I was just too afarid to try because according to my stupid brain, watching trashy television was more important than doing anything to put a valid job under my bio, intead of ‘former child’ or it might have been the heavenly pleasure of nothingness.
Anyways....I could have been a human, if I chose to but being a slouch is much more relaxing, must say.
God of middle-earth (5/n)
Phew. Safe at last. Dundro sighed. He noticed the Horde of the Orcs were getting closer. Their unnaturally synchronised marching gradually filled the marsh with a terrifying din. And then came the Orcs.
An Albino was leading the Horde. He struck a terrifying figure, towering over his subordinates atop a Silvermane Warg. His armour was dull, blades keen. The milky white of his skin was criss-crossed with old scars. healing but nevertheless there. The rest of the Orcs matched Frodo's descriptions exactly. Their squarish blades cut the humid marsh air. Some had long spears pointed heavenwards. Their helms were rusted and bent, revealing only their hideous mouths lined with yellowing teeth.
Dundro watched all this from above. As much as he was scared out of his mind, there was something else about the sight that reinvigorated the adventurer in Dundro. He imagined Bilbo, crouched upon a burning bough, looked on by Wargs.
The Orcs marched swiftly, and soon enough, Dundro saw the last in their ranks pass by, leaving only the cacophony of footfalls in their wake. Dundro counted to 100 before feeling safe enough to descend from his arboreal shelter.
And so he did. As soon as he landed upon terra firma, he took off like the wind, making once again for the Brandywine river, hoping to follow it upstream so he could return to the Eastern Road and back to Hobbiton. Thus was his plan.
He followed the Orc tracks back to the Brandywine. But on his way, he spotted a strange article, embedded in the mud. Dundro caught it in his peripheral vision and stopped in his tracks to investigate. He bent over and pulled the object out of the mud, and shook the dirt off of it. His eyes widened. He looked the object over multiple times, trying to discern its purpose. But he could not glean anything from its appearance. It was fascinating to see, but Dundro could not make any sense of it.
What was it?
The Little Girl
It was a beautiful day to be walking home along a tree-lined road. Carlos hastily checked his watch; darkness was already falling, Soon, the only light will come from street lamps. Apart from Carlos, the road is empty … or so he thinks. Suddenly, he hears a strange, shrill voice coming from the darkness behind the trees.
Carlos froze. The hairs behind his neck stood up as he turned towards the source of the shrill voice. It came from behind the trees.
“Is anybody there…?” he asked into the void of the forest.
“Hello…”
There it was again. The echo of the voice rang like a siren in his ears. The cold voice seemed to beckon him, as if it was a hypnotising spell. Carlos quickened his pace, nervously trodding through the damp grass.
Squish, squish.
He could feel his heart thumping like a bird trying to escape its cage. Taking short quick breaths, Carlos silently dashed along the road.
“Hi there, have you come to play with me?” whispered the voice, now closer. In fact, Carlos thought he had felt someone breathing down his neck...
He took a deep breath, and turned around slowly, only to face… a little girl! Heaving a sigh of relief, Carlos examined the figure. She wore a red bow on her head, and seemed to be snuggling under her cyan jacket while staring up at him. He was baffled; what was a little girl doing alone on the road at dusk?
“Hello there, where are your parents?” questioned Carlos, ” And how did you get here?”
The little girl frowned. “Answer my question first!” she grumbled.
Carlos sighed. He promised the girl he would play with her after she told him where her parents were. ‘Such inconsiderate parents’, he thought, ‘leaving their kid wandering around the streets at night’. The girl introduced herself as Mia. She explained that she went for a picnic with her parents, and got lost when she went to play in the woods. Carlos felt a pang of sympathy for the girl and decided to walk her home. Maybe his mother would know what to do.
Mia and Carlos strolled along the dark road, with only the street lamps and stars to lead them. The cheerful chatter could be heard between the two, as Carlos chatted and told jokes to brighten the little girl’s spirits. Mia looked into his eyes while giggling softly. However, he noticed that the sparkle in her eyes looked so faded and lost despite her young age. It was almost as if the flaming spirit inside of her had been extinguished.
“Look, we’re here!” exclaimed Carlos, shrugging off his thoughts.
They had just arrived at his house, and his mother was walking to and fro at the entrance, clearly anxious. Mia smiled and thanked him for all his help, as he ushered her into the house.
“Carlos, there you are! I was worried sick, what took you so long?” scolded his mother, running to embrace him in a tight hug.
“I’m sorry mom,” apologised Carlos, “ I was walking home when I found this lost girl. Her name is Mia, and I was wondering if you could call the police station to help find her parents.” he explained, nudging Mia to greet his mother.
“Hello ma’am,” mumbled Mia, staying behind Carlos.
Carlos’ mother looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “Carlos, that’s funny, but you don’t need to make up a silly excuse for being late.”
Carlos was baffled, “What do you mean, mother? I found her alone in the woods, I couldn’t just leave her there” Carlos.
Now his mother was clearly irritated, “Carlos, don’t test me. Do you take me for a fool?”
Carlos was puzzled. He turned to Mia and pushed her forward. He told his mother to let Mia explain what happened, but instead his mother backed away. Mia giggled, much to his surprise.
“Play with me,”she abruptlu said cheerily.
“Stop it, Carlos,” his mother warned, “I know this is another one of your pranks, and you can stop now,” she stammered.
“She said she was lost mom, you of all people know I wouldn’t randomly bring strangers into the house!” argued Carlos, insulted that his mother would think he did such a thing.
“Play with me,” hissed Mia, now with a hint of anger.
His mother’s face turned pale. She whisked out her phone and snapped a picture of Carlos and Mia. Baffled, Carlos opened his mouth to ask a question, when his mother showed the photo to him. Carlos felt his blood run cold. He was unable to believe his eyes, and even rubbed them before glancing again at the picture.
“PLAY WITH ME!!!” shrieked Mia.
The picture showed a furious Carlos, but Mia did not show up in the photo. Speechless, he turned around and pointed while saying, “But she’s right over-”
There was no one there.
Suddenly, Carlos heard the same shrill voice in his ear, and shuddered as it coldly whispered, “You didn’t keep your promise…”
Dust to Dust
The house is crumbling down around me
Or am I imagining all the cracks in the walls
There is a woman's face behind the bare studs
She whispers to me the end is near
I tell her she aint seen nothin yet
Wait till the floor gives way
When it happens we are both ready
Holding hands we carelessly slip away
