Day after day its all the same.
Waiting for something that is never to come
Having no hope but looking forward
To the day oblivion will come
Upon dark raven wings
To call you to the great beyond
Where nothing resides.
Each morning the cycle begins again
Just like the previous day
The great chore continues in monotony
Taking slowly from our tired limbs
Until we move as those entranced
By a horror beyond imagination
Left only to move the robotic motions.
Sadness resides inside us
Because that which is praised as worthy
Is an appealing fruit full of worms
The only sustainance available to us
Sanctioning hopeless living
A dragging weight against movement
Thursday 24 February 2011
Lady Cinderella
Somewhere in chapter 4
She was now wed. Her husband like none she nor her aunt could have imagined. Time would tell which of them had found her desire, she who had only ever wanted someone to value her or her aunt who had wanted a miserable match for her.
He was still not recoved from his wounds, the bruises on his face yellowing as the swelling receeded, making it difficult to tell his features. She thought his nose was fine, aristocratic, surely he had to be one. He need not be titled or even monied just not the outlaw bandit her aunt had declared, a bandit would not have married her to save her from ruin. Not when it was her fault she had been compromised.
He had not been angry at her nor had he argued with her aunt's demand that they marry, he could have easily refused with no fault asigned to him yet he had married her. To her eyes and in her heart he was noble, regardless of what his past and memories would reveal.
For the moment she had to deal with their accomodation. They could not stay here.
The roofs had fallen in years ago, the beems rotten and broken. Birds had made their homes on the second floor, rats and other scurrying creatures on the first. The curtains were tattered, dusty, moth eaten and stinking. It was obvious no one had been here in years, probably since her parents had died. How could she have trusted her aunt would see to its care?
The pain greeted him as it had everytime he had awakened. His face was on fire, the split bottom lip throbed and his ribs ached, it was hard to believe they were merely bruised and not broken the way they felt. Every breath agrivated the pain and his present situation did not help matters.
She was now wed. Her husband like none she nor her aunt could have imagined. Time would tell which of them had found her desire, she who had only ever wanted someone to value her or her aunt who had wanted a miserable match for her.
He was still not recoved from his wounds, the bruises on his face yellowing as the swelling receeded, making it difficult to tell his features. She thought his nose was fine, aristocratic, surely he had to be one. He need not be titled or even monied just not the outlaw bandit her aunt had declared, a bandit would not have married her to save her from ruin. Not when it was her fault she had been compromised.
He had not been angry at her nor had he argued with her aunt's demand that they marry, he could have easily refused with no fault asigned to him yet he had married her. To her eyes and in her heart he was noble, regardless of what his past and memories would reveal.
For the moment she had to deal with their accomodation. They could not stay here.
The roofs had fallen in years ago, the beems rotten and broken. Birds had made their homes on the second floor, rats and other scurrying creatures on the first. The curtains were tattered, dusty, moth eaten and stinking. It was obvious no one had been here in years, probably since her parents had died. How could she have trusted her aunt would see to its care?
The pain greeted him as it had everytime he had awakened. His face was on fire, the split bottom lip throbed and his ribs ached, it was hard to believe they were merely bruised and not broken the way they felt. Every breath agrivated the pain and his present situation did not help matters.
Friday 18 February 2011
Through the forest
Leaves formed a reddish-gold carpet on the ground and on the impressive porch at the front of the palace. It was four storied with many balconies styled to be individual in pattern and somehow managing to be a whole, wide windowed doors led from them. Large windows adorned the rest of the bulding to afford a view of the forest from any of its rooms. The result was a dazzling glint in the sun, vines clinging to its sparce walls gave the daunting place a homey, almost rustic look.
Ferik noted the unnatural stillness that now prevailed, not a single leaf rustled in the light breeze he could feel, a breathless pause as they waited to see what he would do. The courtyard about him was beautiful, despite the neglect, arrayed with once shaped fragrant shrubs and colourful, well-arranged flowers splashed amoungst them. The only sore note was found just inside the north gate, two oaks that did not look as if they were. If Ferik had not been adept at recognising trees he would have been at a loss to identify them, they were twisted, as if a deformed childish hand had shaped them and hence deformed them. Stunted, the bulk of them were bulbourous contusions with a leprous looking bark, the branches cruelly twisted and gnarled. They appeared to be the centre of the agonising pain that underlay the forest, rap flowing from them as if from sores.
Ferik noted the unnatural stillness that now prevailed, not a single leaf rustled in the light breeze he could feel, a breathless pause as they waited to see what he would do. The courtyard about him was beautiful, despite the neglect, arrayed with once shaped fragrant shrubs and colourful, well-arranged flowers splashed amoungst them. The only sore note was found just inside the north gate, two oaks that did not look as if they were. If Ferik had not been adept at recognising trees he would have been at a loss to identify them, they were twisted, as if a deformed childish hand had shaped them and hence deformed them. Stunted, the bulk of them were bulbourous contusions with a leprous looking bark, the branches cruelly twisted and gnarled. They appeared to be the centre of the agonising pain that underlay the forest, rap flowing from them as if from sores.
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