The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and Tolkien - The One Ring

by **Anarmírë** » Sun Nov 30, 2003 4:23 pm

in the Ainulindale, then that had to happen. Why should someone start a thread with that title. Well it is because this philosophy is Anarmire's one of my two RP characters. I thought that I would put together the poems I've been writing both as him and eari cause I'd like to have a place where they all are. I would love if you made comments and if you shared some feelings about them. I hope you'll enjoy reading those poems as much as I enjoy writing them (even though they're far from perfect<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>). So here are the first ones: Anarmire's ABC for the Bards' Guild: A for the Gods, the Ainur. In the depth of time they shaped with Notes Eä the world that is. Arda's Unique because of them. And there the Bards Roam and walk free to tell stories and tales. B for the empty handed, Beren Erchamion who among men is of greatest Renown. For with the help and love of the Edhelwen, Luthien, he went into the Night of Angband to recover the Silmarill. C for the fair hill of Cerin Amroth where Elessar and Undomiel plighted their troth, in the Realm of Galadriel where elanor and niphredil would grow. In the Fourth Age Arwen returned to Lothlorien Never to be seen from Mortal or Elf again. D for all those battles sadly known: Dagor Aglareb, the glorious one or Nuin Giliath under star before the moon first rose Or Bragollach first Alliance of elves and men. Let's Remember those who fell then. E for those who came first. The Eldar Loved most by the Gods and Despised by Morgoth. First born in Arda their deeds are most Renown for they're glorious and sad. F for the haven of the Falas on Arda's shores where Telerin remained. Long Círdan ruled this place, first step to Aman for those who wished to depart from the South of Nevrath, from Eglareth or Brithombar. G for the light of the elves Galad A name borne both by famous lord and Lady. For who knows not of the beauty of Alatariel and of the fame Gil-Galad who both Detained powerful Elven Rings? H for the elf friend Hador An Edain of the Third House. In Dor-lómin he ruled thanks to Fingolfin. On a sad and glorious day he died commanding the Rearguard of Noldor to defend Eithel Sirion. I for the Moon Ithil. Tilion was steering its island when Helcaraxë was claiming the life of many elves. In Middle Earth though, no people ever Loved Ithil more than the Eldar. J for these wonderful jewels, the Elven smith called Feänor Wrought from the light of the trees. The Exiled tried for long to recover them yet they got Lost but for one that was set among the stars. K for those high kings of the Elves. In Hithlum dwelling Fingolfin the Wise, Nargothrond, realm of Finrod the Faithful Gondolin bright city of Turgon. And in Doriath were Singollo, the grey mantle and Melian the Fair. L for Lorien the realm of Irmo. On Arda, these gardens are the most splendid. Its Refreshing fountains are a bliss for those In Valinor who come and rest here be they Eldar or Maiar. And among them None would come more often than Olorin the Wise. M for the King of Arda Manwë Ainur, dearest to Illuvatar. None knew Eru's will more than he. Lord of the Wind, he reigns on Taniquetil with Elbereth his mighty Queen. N for the Ring of Fire Narya A mighty ring borne by a mighty Istari Rare they were to know but the Keepers. Yet in the end Olorin was revealed And to Aman he returned his mission fulfilled. O for the Olvar people of the forests. Lot of love were put in them by the Valier Yavanna who among the Ainur is Queen of earth. And her Realm is rich for the olvar ever prospered. P for the Peace of Arda Ending with the poisoning of Aman's trees. Then Melkor was in Chain and for three Ages of the Stars the Eldar grew wise and strong during Arda's Spring. Q for those who first talked the Quendi. Under the skies they found a way to Exchange ideas and thoughts. In the Night of the Age of the Stars, when Darkness remained, the Quendi awoke In Cuiviénen, and changed the course of this world. R for the powerful Rings. In the hands of the Elves, there were three. The Naugrim had Seven while once Glorious Men received Nine from Sauron. After his death they became powerless. S for the blessed number of Seven. Eldar tribes, seven there were. And the Valar, twice seven, male and female without the Enemy. And seven Fathers were for the Dwarfs. And Numenor with its seven stars and seeing stones. T for the two trees of Valinor. Remnants of there light can be found in Elbereth's skies. But before the Eldar could rest under the Shades of Telperion and Laurelin. U for the King of the Sea Ulmo. Lover of Eru's children he protected them for Many long years both Edain and Elves. On the seas he's been riding ever since Arda appeared. V for the Queen of Arda: Varda. Ainu mightiest of the Valier, she Read Melkor's mind better than anybody else. Dearest to the Elves, she drew Arda's skies, its sun, moon and stars. W for the War of Wrath. Relentless for once were the Valar for Arda had to be freed from Melkor. Then for some time Middle Earth knew peace. However a new evil raised with Gorthaur. X for Xena for long we feared Evenstar would become the warrior in a Neophytes' (<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-tongue.gif"border=0>) movie. But the writers finally Acknowledged Arwen couldn't fight in the Deep. Sorry for that. Now let's go back to our subject. Y for the passing years of Eä. Counted with the Stars, the Sun the Ages of Middle Earth seemed to have been Rolling. And in the Void Eru might watching the Sand that falls in the world hourglass. Z for the Celebdil, Zirak Zigil In the dwarven tongue. Gandalf will Remember his long fight for there he fought Against a Balrog. And in the end he Killed the Flame of Ûdun. Ainulindalë: Ainulindalë, first music ever First you came and first you created Long ago in the Void The melodies Eru loved to ear Ainulindalë, music of the world A first theme you created And then you made Eä the world we live in Ainulindalë, music of nature A second theme you worked And then you designed Our beloved Arda's shape Ainulindalë, music of Children A third theme you created And then from Eru were born Those we know as Elves and Men. Ainulindalë, music of our Fate From the beginning till the end Everything you wrought From our birth to death. Ainulindalë, music of my heart Everywhere I go I hear you inside Singing friendship, hope and love As friends walk by my side Ainulindalë, music of our life May you ever sing in our ears That what's ahead can be faced Without any fears. Paying an hommage to Yavanna: Long ago before the time the Valar sang to Illuvatar. Listen to the story of what created Yavanna. Second of Valier she is mother of all olvar, People of our forests, Queen of Earth, Kementari Who among us did have the chance To ever visit all her realms? Has anyone walked from Brethil to Fangorn Or wandered the paths of her forest beyond the seas? When the Ages of Elves In Middle Earth began Of all our lands Beleriand Was most gifted by the Queen For to this land she'd given Many forests to dwell in. In Nan Elmoth where Elwë met Melian, The tallest and darkest trees of Beleriand Were found, under which Eol was at rest But Aredhel could only see sadness Brethil next to Sirion outside Melian's girdle, Once only inhabited by beautiful birches, Was soon peopled by Haladin To defend the Crossing of Teiglin. Of all forests most honoured is Neldoreth Where Luthien took her first breath Under the shades of hemlocks and beeches in Taur-na-neldor She met Beren and gave up her place in Valinor But these forests are now empty. None walk again under the trees' shades What would she say Kementari, If we had forgotten those places? But we remember these realms of old Though we wander other forest roads. The Old Forest beyond Buckland Where Iarwen Ben Adar, the First and Goldberry daughter of the River dwell. Drawn by a powerful spell Four little hobbits discovered Old man willow needed a shepherd. Green Fangorn, old beyond old Where even elves feel young Remnant of what once was a great forest Fangorn welcomed two hobbits bold. They met the shepherds in Entwood And witnessed them in their unrest. Dark forest of Mirkwood beyond the Forest Gate For long you were under Dol Guldur's shadow Realm of Thranduil East of Anduin the Great Your paths were dark, inhabited by creatures of sorrow. Yet Hobbit and dwarves walked in years before Sauron fell and you were renamed Eyrn Lasgalen. Golden Lothlorien, where the mallyrn grow Realm of Galadriel the golden crowned, And Celeborn the silver haired Lord Since the Second age of the world. Along the fair Nimrodel, beyond the Silverlode, There the Fellowship discovered the elanor. How many have understood these lands? How many entered them without fear? The Old Forest? Hobbits found it queer And even burnt some of its trees. Entwood? Celeborn advised against this land No risk should be taken to be entangled in Fangorn. Mirkwood? Just ask the dwarves how many friends Got lost on the road to Esgaroth. And Lothlorien? If you listened to Men you'd know That Laurelindenorenan is not a place to go. But who ever understood what love laid within? For in the heart of Yavanna, Ainu of Illuvatar Nothing could ever be more interesting Than the life and presence of her beloved olvar. And now the elves are leaving our shores Who shall sing the greatness of Kementari? No worry! For ever in the olvar shall remain The spirit of the Queen of Earth.

by **earendil81** » Sun Nov 30, 2003 4:26 pm

Here is two of the poems eari performed in the latest Bards' festivals. The Battle of the Pelennor (summer 2003): In the War of the Ring against Mordor Of great renown is the battle of Pelennor. Listen ye to the story of those who fell To protect Middle Earth from Sauron's hell. Three thousand had come from Gondor's lands From the Blue Mountains to the Bay of Belfalas Three thousand men, six thousand hands Many of which never returned. Alas! For before them was an army Led by no mere leader. He was bringing misery Sauron's most faithful follower From Lossarnach came old Forlong Two hundred men with axes armed Tell me, how many survived? Not their lord though he fought long, Against orcs and evil men. And we remember them for in glory he died. From Ringló Vale came Dervorin Three hundred striders hurrying by Tell me, how many survived? Is there anyone left to sing The way they went to fight. And we remember them for in glory they died. From Lamedon they came with no Captain From Anfalas, with Golasgil Tell me, how many survived, Of those hunters and village men? How many fell on these hills? And we remember them for in glory they died From Morthond, came Duinhir His sons and five hundred bowmen. Tell me, how many survived? Under a mumak they fell Derufin and Duilin And never returned to the Blackroot Vale. And we remember them for in glory they died. From Pinnath Gelin came Hirluin the Fair And three hundred of gallant men, green clad. Tell me, how many survived? Never their lord saw the Green Hills again And many others fell by his side. And we remember them for in glory they died. From Dol Amroth rode Imrahil Leading seven hundred Swan Knights Tell me, how many survived? For if their strength was like their skill Some of them still died in the fights. And we remember them for in glory they died. From the Fields of Rohan came Theoden And Eomer and thousands of riders Tell me, how many survived? For among some of his dead knights their king fell Killed by the Witchking after he felled the snake leader. And we remember them for in glory they died. A battle great but desperate For everywhere the Witchtking went All hope left and darkness grew Until Merry and Eowyn finally slew The dark messenger. But then again a black shadow Carried by a new wind seemed to sorrow From Pelargir they came by the river, A Grey Company Aragorn and thirty men Tell me, how many survived? Halbarad to Mundburg followed his leader Fought long and hard. But in the end Will we only remember him for in glory he died? Many a man, Known or unknown, We lost that day Whom we still mourn today. But in the eye of history They've earned what's called glory. For those who fell on Pelennor Died in a victory against Mordor. And for ever shall they be known As the heroes of our freedom. Reflections (Fall 2003): There is this somebody at the door But will I have the strength to open it and see If it is a new person or the one I abhor? If I dare who will be looking at me? Then a voice says "open that door and do it now. Open your eyes or else it's useless you know." Opening my eyes I see a face, Tortured and lost. Where is the smile This face once wore back at the time of happiness? It looks like joy's left it for some time. If I closed my eyes, d'you think I could see The reflection of a soul that would be happy? Closing my eyes I see a soul, Crying and torn . Where is the hope This soul could bring on someone else's road? It looks like it's walking on the wrong slope. If I searched my soul, d'you think I could see The reflection of a heart that would be happy? Searching my soul I see a heart Bleeding and sad. Where is the love This heart was once willing to share and even start ? It looks like this heart could need a dove. If I closed my heart, d'you think pain would leave? Or would my reflection remain my darkest fiend? Why can't anyone cover that mirror Where I see my face tortured and lost? Why can't everyone close my eyes forever So that I don't see this soul crying and torn? Why can't anyone repair this heart So that it stops bleeding and I can be reborn? Is there a way I could escape that reflection Or will it remain there and be my demon? I break the mirror and my hand is bleeding Like my heart broken. And the pieces of mirror, Multiplied like my soul divided and crying, Reflect a thousand faces tortured forever. Breaking the mirror is useless for it only shows The face that looks into it and even its sorrows.

by **earendil81** » Wed Dec 03, 2003 3:25 pm

This one is Eari's first post at a Bard's festival. As soon as I find her ABC then I'll bring it forth here<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0> Middle Earth theme: June 2002 When for the first time in this harbor he heard The singing voices of gulls and other sea birds He knew in his mind and deep inside his heart That for a while he would not rest at any hearth. A few days later he left all what he had loved; Family, friends and a promised bride he abandoned, And embarked on a three-master, the Valinor. As anyone of the ordinary sailors. Often he was at the topmast in the crow's net, And could appreciate the beautiful sunset When the sky and the ocean suddenly turn red And sparkle in the sun as bright as his bride's braid. For many years he roamed the seas of Middle-Earth And eventually became a renowned Captain. The Valinor had become his most beloved hearth Though he often said 'in Gondor love shall remain'. After a long journey he came back to Gondor, And the first thing he did was to see Elanor. On that day he promised that soon he would wed her After a last short trip, they would live together. Another time, the mariners unfurled the sails Of the great ship and sailed towards the horizon. While Elanor was preparing her dress and veils, Her groom was sailing on his beloved galleon. On that beautiful but afterwards cursed night Out at sea the breeze became a stormy wind. After a long, violent and terrible fight Eventually the three-master had to give in. The next morning, women were standing on the shore When she heard the sound of the sea wind blowing, The bride, who also awaited the Valinor. Knew that the foaming sea had robbed her ev'rything. 'Never again shall we see our beloved men, Forever out at sea all of them shall remain Resting in peace in the chasms of this ocean They have loved more than earth and more than their women. Turelie and Hobbi's wedding: january 2003 Out of the dark she came, Out of the green fields of her land. In the Golden Hall she grew up Shieldmaiden of Rohan. As straight as her sword And as cold as it blade On the field of Pelennor she fought And there defeated the Witch-king. Out of the dark he came Out of the blue river of his land. In the White City he grew up Great captain of Gondor As noble as those of Numenor And as courageous as this kin In the forests of Ithilien he fought And there defeated the Master Ring's will Out of the dark they came From the black breath under which both fell. In the House of healing they met While others went into greater darkness Fighting a last battle for Middle Earth. Out of the dark she came, Out of her healing room To walk over the city walls And find a way to battle. And here he was, looking to the East Where all their hope had gone. When he first saw her, pity filled his heart For he knew of her unrest and sorrow. Out of the dark he came Out of the Black Shadow To walk over the city walls And look towards the Black Land. And there she came, looking for the East For death in a battle where all hope was gone. When she first saw him, doubt filled her heart For she knew of his gentleness and sternness. Out of the dark they came Walking together in the hours of days Looking to the East where armies had gone. And when the fifth day came, the Shadow of old Was defeated and on the walls of Minas Anor A wild wind blew that mingled raven and gold. In those days when nothing that one found Could be kept very long, The White Lady of Rohan found the love Of a Numenorean of Gondor She could not yet understand, Until finally, upon her, the Sun shone. Out of her Winter then she came To reach for her Spring In Rohan they wed And together in Ithilien they went to live A Prince, Steward of Gondor And Princess, Lady of the Rohirrim. From that day on an eternal Summer sun Shone on Faramir and Eowyn.

by **earendil81** » Wed Dec 03, 2003 3:42 pm

Well I found it. It did not take as much time as i thought. and then it was still not far from the beginning of the Bard's ABC thread<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>. I did not remember I posted that long ago and shoud I write an ABC for Eari now it wouldn't be the same at all<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>. ABC, may 2002 Another night arose to see Birth of a new baby. Cast is a spell Darkness on her, stars foretell. Earendil, though, on her birth shone. Future is never for sure known Great deeds will be done, Her time at that moment will come. Iris, rarely to that name will she answer Just for the love of her mother. Kindness she will anytime show Light of hope inside her will glow Mordor she must avoid like death Never, otherwise shall she find a resting place. Over time the prophecy achieved Part of what had been perceived. Quick and wild tempered she left her family, Rode toward Gondor, where she met her destiny. Suddenly the darkness of the Ringwraiths Took her to the Darkness that could be her death Under the Shadows what did she see? Victory of Sauron and death of her family When she unexpectedly came back from there Xtreme was the change people could see in her air. Years have now passed but she is still there looking for this Zest of life and hope she lost in the shadows’ abyss. And I also thought I'd use this space to put a couple of poems I wrote in French. If I have the chance to translate them, I will but they'll loose some of their impacts I guess. Just to let you know that they're sad, almost depressed<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0> but don't worry for me<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-tongue.gif"border=0>. I've still tried to find English title for them<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>. Torn from inside Déchirée mais de l'intérieur, J'attends que vienne la fin D'une souffrance et d'une horreur Qui change tout en rien. Quoiqu'il se passe autour de moi Rien ne me touche rien ne m'atteint. Plus rien n'est digne de foi, La vie n'est que du vain. Quel espoir dans un tel monde Où tout est fade et incertain, Quel espoir qu'enfin je fonde Dans une mort sans fin? Living is dying? Vivre n'est-ce pas mourir? Chaque jour je vois la mort Qui me cajole et qui m'attire Mais jamais dans un corps à corps. La peur du vide me retient De m'abandonner à ses bras. Mais son amour à elle est sans fin Et jamais elle ne m'abandonnera. Et pourtant elle m'appelle Parfois d'un cri ou d'un soupir Ou bien d'une voix tout sucre et miel Qui vous ferait presque sourir. A lover's death Lorsqu'elle le sentit Lentement s'approcher La jeune fille frémit Comme une vierge effarouchée. Quelle langueur la saisit Lorsque pour la première fois Sur son corps elle sentit Le toucher de ses doigts. Il n'est d'amant plus doux Dont le souffle vous enivre Avant que tout à coup Il ne vous délivre. Le temps s'arrête dans un souffle ou un cri On s'abandonne une fois encore A la douceur et à l'envie D'amour avec le spectre de la mort. As I said I'll take the time to tranlsate those, but not now, not tonight<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0> eari<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>

by **Hades** » Thu Dec 04, 2003 3:10 pm

More. I want more. Traduit ou non. Je t'adore.

by **Anarmírë** » Sun Jan 11, 2004 8:47 am

Je t'adore aussi Nin chérie<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>. Câlins. J'espère que tu vas mieux<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>. ok, here's one more, I posted for the latest bard festivlal. More shall come cause the muse seems to be willing to<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>. Beginning In the beginning there were eyes, And these eyes accidentally met. In the beginning there were mouths And these mouths deliberately smiled. In the beginning there were hands, And these hands were gently offered. In the beginning there were words, And these words were kindly, maybe shyly spoken. In the beginning there were silences, And these silences were soon carrying much. In the beginning there were feelings, And these feelings were eventually shared. Every single day is a beginning of its own, A day when all this can be lived. But is there a better beginning than The one of an everlasting friendship?

by **ArienelFeawen** » Sun Jan 11, 2004 8:41 pm

This is great! How many times have you read the Sil.? <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-shocked.gif"border=0> L for Lorien the realm of Irmo. On Arda, these gardens are the most splendid. Its Refreshing fountains are a bliss for those In Valinor who come and rest here be they Eldar or Maiar. And among them None would come more often than Olorin the Wise How do you remember all of this? <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0> Arien

by **Anarmírë** » Mon Jan 12, 2004 8:02 am

Thanks a lot Arien (did you get that name from the Maia "riding" the Sun<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>?). Actually I'm on my third reading of the Silmarillion, but I have a very good memory about things like that<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0> (I'm glad I don't have exams anymore about lessons to learn by heart though<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-tongue.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-tongue.gif"border=0>). And I wrote this poem with the Silm next to me so as to be sure of what I was writing<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0> (so I'm kind of cheating). I'm not going to make mistake about the Professor's work<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>. I'm glad you enjoyed those poems ~Anar

by **Echo_Starlite** » Wed Jan 14, 2004 1:50 pm

The ABC's rocketh muchly. VERY muchly. YAYA! 'Tis nifty-keen! I praise your ability to hold large amounts of Tolkien data, with which I cannot contend. ^________^

by **earendil81** » Fri Jan 16, 2004 4:23 am

<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-blush.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-blush.gif"border=0> you should stop this or my head will get inflated<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-tongue.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-tongue.gif"border=0>. Thanks Echo_Starlite<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0> It comes Sneaky Tricky When none expect it It comes To endanger To destroy When none expect it It comes To kill To take the life of those we love When we don't expect it It comes And you can do nothing But look at those you love fading And be with them until the end It comes And my life turns to nothing Because I did not expect it Death will you not let my grand dad live? Don't come now Let him stay with us Cause we don't want him to go For we love him so much

by **Anarmírë** » Thu Jan 29, 2004 8:42 am

Ok this poem was inspired by a picture taken from FOTR; it is when Pippin and Merry first look up at Galadriel. There is something really ethereal in that shot that inspired me this about a week ago. It is written, I think, from the Hobbits' point of view<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>. What fairest thing could you behold That is not made of deathless gold? For here she comes the fair Lady The one whose name speaks of beauty. My eyes are wide in great surprise For in her eyes I see the skies. Her golden hair is just shining Of her beauty I’ll ever sing. In front of me a fair Lady Comes down slowly and so nicely. My heart seems just to stop beating While Galadriel stands smiling. Nothing can tell what I’m feeling Even Merry has stopped breathing I am enthralled and I now sing Of the Lady of the Galadhrims. In Caras Galadhon only Silver mingles with Gold beauty Galadriel and Celeborn Will keep the woods for long adorn And for those who behold their might We wish they’re always be a light For both we know now we’ve seen them We will never value a gem. The Silver light of Celeborn Will help us never feel forlorn And Galadriel’s golden light Shall forever be in our heart.

by **earendil81** » Thu Jan 29, 2004 2:01 pm

There was a time when I was happy When life was nice and easy. But today it is over I have nothing to hold on to And I am afraid of how I’m reacting right now. Sorrow came too quickly Under the name of Robber And it stole the time of innocence My dreams and ideals and order. But I managed, I think, To win and recover Sorrow yet came again Under the name of Death And it stole the life of others I loved and cared for. But I managed, I’m sure To win and recover Sorrow came one more time Under the name of Cancer Trying to take the life Of my father’s father. And I haven’t managed To win and recover Sorrow came one last time To give me one last blow Under the name of Heart. To my mother’s dad. And now it is too much I won’t win, won’t recover. I’ve always hated self pity And now there’s anger only. I am beyond sorrow there’s just Anger and hate I can’t control. I’m angry at what or whoever’s up there For making this time so miserable I’m angry at my parents for not telling What I had the right to know I’m angry at my grandfathers For threatening to go I’m angry at myself Because I know That up there Nothing can be changed That my parents Thought it was the best That my grand fathers Would rather be healthy I’m angry Because I feel selfish I’m angry Because I can’t bear People being sorry I’m angry Because even friends Can’t be redeemed to me I’m angry Because I’m becoming Intolerant and grumpy

by **earendil81** » Mon Jun 07, 2004 3:44 am

Not impressive, rather impression of a day :roll:

Ah well, in french again, sorry :oops:

.

La lumière d'une étoile qui déchire
Les ténèbres de la nuit
Un rayon de soleil qui perce
L'épaisseur des nuages

Le son d'une musique qui résonne
Détruisant l'étouffant silence
Le rire d'un enfant qui fait éclater
L'oppressante atmosphère de tristesse

Ténèbres, nuages, faites place
Silence, tristesse faites place
A la lumière, à la musique au rire
L'espoir arrive et il vous chasse
Pour prendre vie et lui donner sens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

S'il est vrai qu'il n'y a pas de lumière sans ombre
Alors il n'y a pas d'ombres sans lumière.
S'il est vrai qu'il n'y a pas de bien sans mal
Alors il n'y a pas de mal sans bien.
S'il est vrai que le silence est d'or
Alors le son est fait de milliers de pépites

Lumière et ombre
Bien et mal
Silence et son
L'un sans l'autre
Ils ne sont rien
Ils n'ont pas de sens.

Ils sont en en nous
Ils donnent un sens à notre vie
Pourquoi les séparer
Ce serait nous détruire.
Mais lesquels nous dirigent?
A nous de choisir.

by **nienor-niniel** » Thu Jun 10, 2004 1:17 am

désolée d'avoir pris si longtemps....

Magicienne des mots!

by **Goldberri007** » Tue Jun 15, 2004 7:20 pm

Wow, these are all so awesome! I especially like the Yavanna poem.

~Goldie

(insert Rainbow Smileys of Happiness here)

by **earendil81** » Fri Jun 18, 2004 3:44 am

Nin wrote:désolée d'avoir pris si longtemps....

Magicienne des mots!

Je t'adore tu le sais :wink:

Goldberri007 wrote:Wow, these are all so awesome! I especially like the Yavanna poem.

~Goldie

(insert Rainbow Smileys of Happiness here)

thank you Goldberri. The Yavanna poem was a way for me to pay an hommage to the nature around us. And I love forest as well so :wink:

.

Leave,

It's not the end,
No, it's the beginning
The start of something new
Of something magic.

It's not like there's no return
But never again we'll be the same
We'll come back having grown up
To something we can't know

It's not forgetting
It's remembering
For there's no present without a past
And with no present no future.

It's not an easy choice
It's frightening
Because we don't know
What we will become.

And yet we leave
Despite this fear
Despite this past
We would like to hold onto
Because it is safe
Because it is known

But there's nothing like that life
And leave the past
Is what we need to do
To start the future.

by **Goldberri007** » Wed Jun 23, 2004 8:13 pm

Ooh! Tu parle français? C'est magnifique!

:):D (Lol sorry, I just saw the stuff that tu as ecrit en français, and I took french so...yea...it's awesome when I realize that I can translate that sort of thing well enough to see the beauty in french poetry aside from the sound of it...lol)

~Goldie

(insert Rainbow Smileys of Specialness here)

by **earendil81** » Thu Jun 24, 2004 1:42 pm

Goldberri007 wrote:Ooh! Tu parle français? C'est magnifique! :):D (Lol sorry, I just saw the stuff that tu as ecrit en français, and I took french so...yea...it's awesome when I realize that I can translate that sort of thing well enough to see the beauty in french poetry aside from the sound of it...lol)

~Goldie

(insert Rainbow Smileys of Specialness here)

Yes Goldberri, I'm French in fact :wink:

. But glad you can get the poems in french :wink:

, it sounds so much better than the translation.

by **Cixi** » Sun Oct 17, 2004 9:45 am

Ah well another one... Same author in another skin

I didn’t believe it
When they said it existed
I didn’t believe it
When they said it changed life
I didn’t believe it either
When they said it changed someone.

I didn’t believe in it
When I met you first
I didn’t believe in it
When you gave me my first
I didn’t believe in it yet
When you showed some parts to me

And I didn’t believe in it
Despite the pain to leave
I didn’t believe in it
When I saw you again
But then something changed
Something I didn’t notice then.

You made me believe
That it existed
You made me believe
That it changes life
You made me believe
It can change someone

And I believe now
In this for you have showed me
And I believe now
That we will share it
I believe now
That love exists between us
For ever.

by **earendil81** » Mon Oct 05, 2009 11:10 am

This is a tale I wrote for a Harry Potter contest a couple of years back. Just before Amazon bought and released the content of the Tales of Beedles the Bard. As is obvious, the theme was to choose one tale from the book and create one of our own. I guess I am a little proud of that baby cause it won me the grand prize

. I hope you like it as much as the people on this other site did, although I do know that it pales in comparison to some of the amazing writing that we have the opportunity to read in these halls

The Fountain of Fair Fortune

In life, there are times when you have to make some choices that will influence your whole existence. And when these times happen you have to ponder what you want and what you are ready to do to achieve it.

Our story begins at a time when magic was a common thing; although most people did not possess it, creatures that did were well known and there were places famous for their magical influence. Most acknowledged of these was probably Stonehenge but there were other that were less famous, hidden; such was the case of the Fountain and its guardian both of which were hidden in a remote forest of a country where magic was less of a tradition.

In this country lived a man named Lycaon; he was a widowed lord who had three girls whom he loved more than his own life. Lycaon was well versed in magical knowledge and knew of the Fountain of Fair Fortune, as it had once been referred to. He also knew that the guardian would test his daughters and he hoped that this would put some senses into their heads. For although he loved them dearly he knew that they were still young and unaware of how their frivolity could eventually hinder their lives. So one day, he asked them to prepare for a week trip that they would take to the city beyond the forest. After complaining loudly that riding for a week would be terrible for them, the three of them did pack their things and joined their father in the trip.

For the first two days he rode with them but as they drew nearer to the guardian’s territory he prepared a fire and asked them to go and fetch some water that he knew would be close by. The three sisters left chatting merrily and walked the path that would lead them to the Fountain. On the way, a sudden fog came upon them and they could not see each other anymore. For so it was that the guardian tested each person separately.

The elder sister had always been adventurous; she should have been an example for her sisters but had always found mischief more interesting. And finding herself lost actually was a lot of fun; she always thought her sisters very too childish and she did not like kids. So it was humming that she went to look for her siblings and instead found the Fountain next to which a tiny boy dressed in rags was sitting; he could not bring himself up to pick up some water. If she was surprised to find such a beautiful fountain in a place remote as this was, she was even more dumfounded to find a child without parents in this forest. And although she was slightly repulsed by the kid’s appearance – if not the kid himself - she stopped by the child and using the jar she had picked some water from the Fountain and gave it to him.
“Will you have some too, the tiny boy asked her. As she looked at him she realized that she should find her sisters for they probably were as lost as this child looked.
“Oh no, she answered. I am thirsty indeed but I must find my sisters first. But what about you, why are you alone in these woods? Are you lost?
“No, I am not. And the spirit of the Fountain appeared to the sister, taking the child’s place. “Do not be afraid Ophelia, thy sisters will eventually come here.”

When she lost her sisters, the second one was very much afraid; she had always preferred to sit at home with her father; people would always mock her because she was petite and had a frail health. For some time she dared not move, but then she decided that she had to look for her parents. She walked deeper into the forest when a terrible cry made her jump. Just ahead of her a giant wolf had been caught in one of these traps that hunters leave and his leg was bleeding badly. She was petrified… Yet, she could not help but feeling some pity for the animal, which spoke to her.
“Please miss, help me. I have my children to look after; they need their mother and food.”
She was not exactly surprised to hear the animal speak, for her father had always told them how sometimes magic would grace the most peculiar people, be they human or not. But she was not sure that she would not be fed to the little ones. Still, she could not leave the wolf that way and so she unlocked the trap and freed the wolf’s leg before cleaning the wound with a handkerchief.
“Are you alright? She asked looking up. But the wolf had disappeared and she was facing a beautiful woman, whose beauty dazzled her, and just beside her, Ophelia.
“Vera!” her older sister exclaimed as she embraced the small woman.
“Where is Elena?”
“I am here.”

And their young sister appeared also, looking dishevelled and distraught. But however much her sisters pressed her to tell them what had happened she would not tell. So they turned to the beautiful spirit who would not say either, as she would not say what she had tested them with. Instead she filled three cups with water from the well and handed the first one to the youngest inviting her to refresh so at to shake off the feeling of fright. The three sisters drank eagerly from the cup and felt at once both rested and calm as if nothing could disturb the serenity of the place.

“Thou hath proved that thou hath a good heart and I will grant thee a wish as I did to thy father what is long years ago to thee but which is only a heartbeat to me. What do thou want for thy lives ladies? What can Fortune offer thee?”

“I want to be rich, so rich that everybody would be jealous of my wealth and I can have whatever I want, said the first sister without any hesitation.
“Soon, wealthy men will come and woo thee. When thou hath found one rich enough to thy taste, give him this, answered the spirit handing the sister a small golden leaf.

“I want to be healthy and beautiful, so much that everybody would admire me, like I was a work of art, said the second sister.
“Each time thou look at thyself in this mirror thou will become more beautiful and when thou are happy enough with thy beauty thou should break it.

“I don’t know what I want yet, said the third sister a dark look in her eyes as if reminded of what had happened earlier… do I have really to decide now?
“No, thou do not. Here is a present, said the guardian handing a phial filled with water from the fountain to her. When thou art ready to decide, thou shall drink it up and I will come to thee to grant thy wish.”

Then she addressed the three sisters. “This must remain a secret or thy wishes will be lost. I wish thee well.” And Fortune disappeared.

So with the knowledge of what their future held in store for them, the three sisters went back to their father. He did not ask any questions because he knew the oath that bound them to the guardian. But within a few months he could pick up his first two daughters’ choices. Some very wealthy men started wooing his eldest daughter but never seeming to satisfy her and she grew even more uneasy at home than before. Soon she left the house willing to travel the world, but really he knew that she was looking for a wealthier husband than she could find in their region.
And his darling Vera who had always had the same fragile health as her mother became stronger and more beautiful by the day. She would always go and look at herself in a mirror; she was extremely careful not to do with people around but he had twice noticed her do that when the door to her room was not closed. The people who had mocked her started to admire her, even worship her but she would despise them, and soon she even left her father who was not worthy of her presence in his house anymore.

But Elena did not seem to change; she seemed saddened even depressed to see the change in her sisters’ attitude but would not try to make them change their minds. She stayed with him for a few years, studied a lot and helped him with taking care of the domain before she married a lord of another province. She became friend with the queen and was soon requested to live at the court, which she refused because she wanted to stay close to her people for which she did a lot of good. Sometimes when she faced a misery that touched her more, she would think of the phial given to her by the spirit, but always she would find another way to help people, through her influence and good reasoning. She was very much loved by her people and by the powerful; yet, every six months she would go and spend a couple of weeks with her father, even when her pregnancies would have forbidden it.
And her children had children, yet her father seemed to be as strong and healthy as before for a long while. And it so turned out that she was in her late seventies when a message came to say that her father’s health was declining and that he was requesting her by his side. Although her health was poor and she was also fading she made the trip alone. Her children and grandchildren were concerned especially since she had seemed so afraid when the message had arrived. They had even feared her heart would fail her before she said firmly that she had to do this alone. She had written some letters to someone they knew not and sent at least 50 riders all across the different kingdoms to deliver these. They had no idea what was happening but she would not tell. After two week of preparations she finally left for her father’s domain.

A servant led her to her father whispering when she asked that sadly no news of her sisters had reached the house. In fact, said the young man, he never knew that the Master had but one daughter. She cried silently as she entered the room; what she had seen before was happening again. She wiped the tears away from her eyes as she sat next to her father’s. Lycaon looked at his youngest daughter; she was the one who looked most like her mother. Even at this age she still had the violet colour and the mischievous light that his wife had; it was so sad that Elena had never known her mother and yet in a way because of that he knew that she had been the happiest and the wisest of his three daughters. And deep inside he felt that she had never spent the wish offered to her by the spirit. But his wish had been granted and he was now reaching the end of his life; he had known his great grandchildren long enough for them to remember him. Although he knew that it meant his other two daughters never had kids he still felt beyond sad not to have them both at his side for his departure.

“Elena, I am glad you came alone.
“I am not father. I would have loved not to be alone with you for your last trip. I knew it would happen in a way.
“Elena have you had a good life?
“Yes father… I have a good life.
“Then it is the most important. For that was the lesson of the spirit of the Fountain. Whatever it is you saw during the test, it was a way to show you that choices are important. Wishing for something is in fact only the first step before choosing to achieve it and take the choices to reach your wish.
“But I wished for nothing at the time father. I did not know… Now that I see you though I know what I wish for.”

She took the phial off her purse; it was just like the way it had been before and she drank it. Somehow she felt that the spirit would not mind her to drink this in front of her father because he had known all along that they had met the magical creature but still she was a little anxious. Fortune appeared in front her them both smiling.
“Hail to thee Elena the wise. and to thee Lycaon. It has been close to a hundred years since we met. I hope thy wish did not turn out to be a sour one.
“No spirit of the Fountain. Although losing my beloved was a blow I had the life I always dreamt of.
“Now Elena, thou called me to grant thy wish. The rules were clear and thou drank this in front of thy father; but he knew me before thee. So I will hear thy wish although I think I may know what it is… for I do remember what thy test was.
“Good Fortune spirit, I would my sisters be here with us. It is right that we should be together to bid our father farewell.
“Thou hath the greatest heart of all. And I knew it first. Thy wish is granted.

There was a knock at the door and the bewildered servant gave way to two old women, old and beautiful and noble and yet different. One was a priestess of the House – they were those dedicated to raising orphans; her air showed someone who had lived adventure and although her face was marked by age she still was energetic. The second was absolutely splendid, small and frail but gorgeous and dressed as a painting somehow, she had a walking stick, which head was a wolf. As the door closed the spirit spoke.
“It is time for thee to speak for a last time with thy father.” And Fortune disappeared.

And the family spoke of their wishes and of their lives.
Ophelia had indeed left her father’s house to find a husband whose wealth would allow her to be envied by everyone. But the more money the suitors had the more money she wanted and she had soon discovered that seeking money would not bring her happiness. And the more she demanded the less money she had herself: one day, half-starving she had stumbled on the porch of a convent and the priestesses had looked after her for weeks for she was so frail. She had discovered love there and given the golden leaf to the temple; she had been initiated as a priestess and her work had brought her a wealth that she did not imagine and also she had enriched some children’s lives in many ways. She laughed as she said that she had become richer than she actually wished for when she was young.
Vera said that she had enclosed herself in her own world for a long time; people did admire her like she was a work of art. They would pass by her as if she was painting or a statue, they would leave money as if they were at a temple and comment on her beauty but without ever saying anything to her. And they would also feel depressed as they left her because they would imagine that they were nothing compared to her beauty. But one day she had seen a poor mother feeding her baby in the streets, in the dust and she had found it a real work of art. And so instead of looking to herself she had started to paint and present her work to the rich people in the country she lived in; and she had met success. So much that she had now her own workshop and many talented disciples which she had sent over the world and even to her father’s although she always forbade them to mention her because she had been so ashamed of how she had left. The wolf was a reminder of her encounter of the spirit and it had become her mark, her signature, and her seal.
Elena, in turn told them about her adventure in the forest for they both knew of her life that had reached beyond the boarders of her country. She explained how she had found herself the same age as this day but feeling unable to go and see her father, how she had called upon the spirit so that at least her sisters would be there to bid farewell to Lycaon but that Fortune had said that there was nothing she could do and to make another wish. How she had wished she had chosen differently and that she would lay down her life for her father not to die alone. Fortune had then said that her life would be needed to make choices leading to a different end.

And as she ended Death came and Fortune was with him. She addressed one last time the sisters and their father.
“Thou shall go together if you decide so, for thy time hath come. But Elena, thou did not use thy wish for thy letters reached thy sisters. Thou led your life to change the end and the wish I granted thee is not yet spent. Before thou go, is there one thee wish to make?
“There is one spirit of good Fortune. I would that each person in this world is given several chances to realise that choices make a life worth living and not wishes or magic.”
“Thy wish will be granted.

And with that the three sisters and their father embraced each other with love for one last time before Death brought them on to the other side. So ends the story of Lycaon, Ophelia, Vera and Elena. But somewhere the Fountain of Fair Fortune remains, not necessarily in our world, but most certainly in our heart.

by **earendil81** » Mon Feb 14, 2011 8:50 am

The first part of a longer (short) story.

She ties her cloak about her shoulders, glancing fearfully around her. It is unlikely anyone would see her at this time, but being cold in this weather would make her suspicious.

She must go; it's a treason on so many levels and so many shapes. Shivering she brings her hand to her neck: always there the mark of the promise she intends to leave behind. Has she not given or done enough, more even than what was expected? Maybe not: she is only a woman after all, a trophy of some sort one could say, even less maybe. What are the odds in her favour? It is not the first time she wonders; she knows chance is not on her side, hardly a tiny hope. But being free despite the possible consequences of being caught is worth all the risk.

She won't go back even though... No! She must be strong, not give up. Raising her head, she looks ahead and continues to walk as the October sun starts its course down to the West. She must put as much distance between herself and the castle before nightfall.

by **earendil81** » Thu Jul 07, 2011 8:04 pm

I wrote this story to take part in the Toronto Star short story contest this year. The story was not to exceed 2500 words. It did not make the cut but I still enjoy writing it.
Re-reading it now, I see that I tried to make my main character more complex (with more of a past) than this type of word constraint might allow, but I still like it.

She sips her coffee while watching the ballet of planes landing and taking off the city airport. It seems busy today. She admires the lake that shines in the soft light of the sun. A ritual of sorts; one she’s kept through the years. No nightmares plagued her last night; it could be a good day.
Within minutes, she leaves her flat and hops onto the streetcar. Queensquay is bustling with life and as she rides to work, she is reminded how much she loves Toronto. It’s been two years since she moved here but its streets, its people are still fascinating. She walks from the stop to the precinct where Sally greets her with a wide smile; motherhood suits the woman well, she glows. She smiles in return.
“They’re waiting for you in the meeting room.”
Waiting? She raises an interrogating eyebrow but only gets a shrug in response. She doesn’t know. Inside the room, her partner and colleagues look slightly tense.
“Hey Montreal! Nice of you to join our party.”
“Wouldn’t miss it, Bear. How’s Liz?”
“With her mother for the week.”
Their exchange is interrupted by Captain Martin, also from Montreal but not teased for it as English is his native language. It’s serious; the woman found yesterday is the victim of the same sick bunnyslipper who killed that young student they had found in one of the University of Toronto libraries a week before - her heart sinks as she knows what will follow – and the evidence points to the serial killer that terrorized Montreal three years before. Today won’t be a good day after all.
There is silence around the room; they all know what happened then. A cop died then and another nearly so. She forces herself to speak.
“The victims? Brunettes with green eyes?” The captain nods and her colleagues gasp. Most have forgotten she worked the case back then; they all ignore the rest, why she moved here.
“He raped them, knifed them and let them to bleed to death. No fibres, no semen.”
Her blood turns cold; she’d hoped to leave this behind and she barely listens as they continue the analysis of the case and how to proceed.
“Montreal, you ok?” Bear… She nods slightly. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
In truth, that’s how it feels, but she can’t say it.
“I’m fine Bear.”
He doesn’t question and they leave to go interrogate the girls’ families and friends. If she is right, one of them will have died because she dyed her hair. It turns out the student, Kat, 24 years old, was a blond with a taste for colours. She loved partying and spent most her Fridays in the entertainment district with her friends. No, they had not seen her hook up with any guy lately, although there has apparently been a guy in her life. Do they know what he looks like? No, they’ve never seen a picture. Really with their cellphones and cameras, they could not see what their friend’s ex looked like? They don’t know, but he was older, in his late thirties or something. Sounds about right. Then she and Mike meet the parents; they’re distressed, but they speak to the mother who seems beyond tears while the father sobs through the interview. No they never met any boyfriend, they ignored she had one. No they hadn’t been worried that she was not back before they went to bed, it was not rare that she spent time late at the library. But the next day when they noticed her bed had not been used for the night they called the police.

Peter calls as they leave; the second woman was in her early thirties, a music teacher, brunette with green eyes, never had trouble. Worked in a music studio on Bloor West and would meet one of her friends within the U of T for lunch twice a week. So they have a place to search; the man targets the university. She shudders at the notion; already in Montreal he made McGill his playground. The afternoon passes in a blur and she isn’t certain that she contributes a lot to discussions.

That night she trashes in her bed, memories creeping into nightmares and she wakes up tired and not rested. Should she tell what she’s withheld for so long? She picks up the phone and dials.
“Luc Archambault.”
“Luc, it’s Marilou. You with a patient?”
“Lilou, darling it’s been a while. Yes, can I call you back?”
“Sure.”
She’s tempted to crawl back under the covers and call in sick until she speaks with Luc, but she can’t really do that: counterproductive and renouncing power. So she showers and dresses. She looks a mess says the mirror. Her green eyes show exhaustion and even the concealer cannot fulfill its duty. Her gaze falls onto the ring hanging from the gold chain at her neck, a reminder of all that was taken away, even more than that ghastly scar running from her pelvis to her breast, forbidding children. He did things thoroughly, would have killed her even without Vince.

In the streets, at the office all seems to be blurred still; the day is grey and rainy like her mood. But they continue their investigation, interrogating the people at the library. Two foreign students on visas working there to pay their tuition fees, a lady and a man both in their early forties employed by the university for some time. She interrogates the two women while Mike looks after the two men. Nothing interesting on her side; they don’t remember her coming in or out. When she joins Mike, he tells her the French student was in Ottawa that night and the man was on a date. They went to see a movie at the AMC Dundas; he has given Bear the tickets and bill for two. Mike adds that apparently the date did not go too well, but she doesn’t care. She wants to be away from here, only she knows she can’t. The phone rings.
“Bear, I’ll be waiting for you at the precinct.”
“Ok. I’ll see you there.”
“Luc?”
“So Lilou, what’s up? You haven’t called in…”
“I know. I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”
She gets out in the street and walks the blocks that separate her from the station, her eyes darting one way or the other in search of something she isn’t sure she’d recognize: danger. Luc recognizes her silence.
“Having nightmares again?”
“Luc. He’s back, he’s here.” She hears the fear in her voice, the slight tremor, feels the icy shiver that runs through her body. There is silence for a while.
“Lilou it can’t be.”
“It’s him Luc. I know it is.”
She speaks with him for a while; she needs the talk.
“Lilou, you have to tell your colleagues. They have to know. If only to protect themselves.” She sighs.
“I know. But it isn’t something easy to speak of.”
“That’s what he would want you to do. Find this guy and leave all of this behind.” She fingers the ring at her neck. “Call me when you’ve told them ok.”
“Fine. Bye.”
“Je t’embrasse Lilou.”
She smiles. “Me too.”

At the precinct, she meets Mike who is finishing his sandwich.
“You ok Montreal?”
“No. I need to speak to you and the chief. Now.”
The three of them in the room, she tells them the truth of her transfer; she tells them how Vincent and she found the murderer towering over his latest victim and chased him through the Mont Royal before they had to separate. How the man found her and brought her down before tearing her gear apart. How his knife carved her skin as if she were some cut of meat and how he was incensed with her for a reason she could not fathom; he said several times that she didn’t recognize him and he would kill her for that. But Vincent had arrived then as she was bleeding to death; she heard the shots then but blacked out. She woke up in the hospital, Luc at her side; Vincent died but at least scared the man away from her maybe even wounded him. They had not caught him. She was interrogated then as Vincent was killed with her service weapon, but she did not remember much beside the pain and the hollow feeling left by Vince’s death.
She feels like she is naked in front of them and it’s hard not to break down; Captain Martin knew that she was transferred after her fiancé’s death. He hasn’t known the details until now.

There is one last thing left to say, one thing that makes for all the guilt and the nightmares. One she can’t explain entirely.
“He is here for me.”
“What?” They exclaim.
“He wants to finish what he started. He killed them all in Montreal except me.”
“Not only the girls; they sent notice earlier today that he also killed two men.”
“Men?” That is a surprise.
“They were unidentified when you left, but they were the boyfriends of two victims. They found pictures in their apartment. Both of them in their mid-thirties.”
“So it’s about rejection.” Says Mike. “Kat’s boyfriend could be next.”
“He won’t if I am presenting myself to him.”
“Do you even know what he looks like Marilou?” Captain Martin asks.
“No… but I’ll recognize his voice.”
“You’re not being used as bait Montreal.” Mike retorts strongly.
“Don’t be a mother bear; I am not your daughter.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” She laughs; he is great.
“Bear… please. I need to do this. For Vince but mostly myself.”
“Fine, offers the Captain. But you’re going in with back-up. We lost one cop to this murderer. I am not giving him a second one.”
They bring in colleagues to devise a plan. The fact that Marilou is a brunette with green eyes in her late twenties is reason enough to work her as bait. No questions asked.

On that Saturday, the sun shines brightly calling to laziness. Not her. She follows her morning ritual, one thing that keeps Vince alive although she knows she should move on. Maybe she should get another place, one that would not summon as many memories.
She takes the Spadina streetcar, looking out the window: Chinatown and its inexpensive shops, Kensington market and its bohemian population of artists. Coming down one at Harbord Street, she walks the rest of the way to the university. She doesn’t know where she might find her target, but she knows where to settle for a reading session. So she makes it to Convocation Hall; she’s always liked this place anyway. She sits in the grass for a while reading enjoying the calm of the place.
“Excuse me.” A voice interrupts in a whisper.
“Yes.” She looks up; a man with dark blond hair looks down at her, uneasy. She stands up to face him.
“Sorry to bug you. Are you the one investigating Kat’s death?”
What is this? She knows they are around but that is something she hasn’t planned.
“Yes… and you are?”
“Steven. I am… I was her boyfriend.” She says nothing. “I… hum… was her teacher in French literature. And I could not…”
“Tell anyone?”
He nods, his head bent in shame. That explains the absence of pictures.
“You need to go to the precinct now. I’ll come with you.” She picks up her bag and book and they get there. By the time he finishes his testimony it is past 6pm. No point going back to the university.
“I’m heading home Sally. You should too.”
“I’ll let Mike know.”

She walks out and let her feet take her away; she’s not really paying attention to where she’s going. It’s not like she can get lost in this city; downtown isn’t that big if one thinks about it. On Dundas she turns South on MacCaul Street; she doesn’t reach Queen Street as a hand suddenly grabs her at the waist while another pushes against her mouth. A whisper comes to her ear.
“One sound and you’re dead.”
So he is here. He’s seen her and has waited for her to get away from the station to get his hands on her. Yet there is no place anywhere near where he can hide her from view. The neighbourhood is too busy. Only he’s thought of that and shoves her into the back of a van. Before she knows it, she’s got tape on her mouth a bag over her head and her hands are tied in front of her. She has no weapon and nobody knows where she is. What an idiot!

“This time you can’t ignore me Marilou.” How does he know her name? “Third time’s the charm.” Third time… the sinking feeling is awful. His knife cuts her shirt; not again. She cannot panic; she must think. So she tries to make him talk.
“Who are you?” She knows… he’s the man who raped her while she was a college student. But that was almost 10 years ago. “What do you want?”
“I want you; I love you. Always have. Ever since college.”
So she knew him before; that’s why he was furious in the park. She should have recognized him. So she questioned him during the first investigation. She racks her brain, trying to find out. But the knife on her skin makes it hard. Suddenly there’s a deafening noise, the doors open and screams ensue. She recognizes Bear’s voice as he arrests the man before freeing her. Soon she is covered and ushered to the precinct where she learns that her tail never left her. Amateur, she didn’t even notice them. The killer was the librarian; he’d approached both victims as they reminded him of Marilou but both had told him off. Enough to kill them…

A few days later, boxes fill her apartment when the door rings: it’s Bear. The concierge let him up.
“Hey Bear. Come in. Sorry about the mess.”
“So you are definitely leaving?”
“Yes.”
“He won’t stalk you anymore.”
“I know.” She sighs as she faces him. “I can’t believe he stalked me for 10 years.”
“Some people don’t deal well with rejection.”
“You’d know?” She laughs. He shrugs. “If he’d asked. But even now I can’t say I remember him. I know we had classes together for two years, but I can’t summon his face or a conversation we had. He’s a shadow in the past; not even that anymore.”
“Stay then.”
“I must go back.”
“Vince’s brother?”
“And his wife and kids yes. They’re family.”
“Are we not?”
“Yes, but…” He doesn’t let her finish and kisses her. Shock courses through her body. How did she miss that too? He looks down at her.
“Stay, please.”
She smiles.
“Toronto it is then.”
“Better than Montreal.”
“Different.”

by **earendil81** » Sat Mar 03, 2012 3:21 pm

I've been working on this one for a little while. I intended to present it for a short story contest but it seemed inappropriate for a newspaper contest. I know it can be read and accepted here.

It's difficult to explain how I came to write this; let just say it was based on the concept of the power one person can hold onto the world.
It's not perfect but I don't think that correcting it further without feedback would help
And I tried something that I don't like: dialog. It always is my downfall :roll:

I called it Apocalypse now although I am not sure I can technically

~~~~~~~~

She looks down; the entire place is a wasteland. Death is everywhere she looks.

It started some weeks before; disasters unlike anything before. Acts of God they call it. Rather of his angels to be true but the result is the same. The fight between God’s and Samael’s armies is destroying the world. For every woman, man or child who dies she feels the pain. Lost souls who have nowhere to go: the gates of hell and heaven are closed to them so they wander hopeless. She can see them. It is unsettling. Azrael is not here to gather them and they are frightened.
She looks for him although she knows he won’t come. He is in India fighting the water demon Gaap who has started a tsunami to attack the angelic legions. To protect themselves, they are moving the Himalayas and separating India from the rest of Asia. More than a billion people die in a minute and at least a legion of angels that she feels go out in flame. Each death feels like hers before it passes and leaves sorrow and regret.

This is the end of the world and not as the Scriptures revealed it, because a man made a choice out of love and despair. He is a just man and his intentions were good, but these pave the way to Hell. Now she must find him: he opened the doors of hell and paradise onto the world, and so he is the one to close them.
Suddenly pain explodes in her. It is so deep she almost falls. In her heart she knows a mighty one is fallen: Kerubiel, exalted prince of Heaven is gone. She feels the sorrow of the legions. But mostly she feels Michael’s fury. Kerubiel claimed the fight against the Leviathan and his forces in South Africa and he let him. Unless Jehoel steps in, the forces of Heaven will all be decimated. But she can’t let it stop her. She must push them away. They are part of her but she can’t let them render her crippled. And so she closes the door inside; they’ll still come in but she won’t feel them.

Something pulls at her; he is praying. She can only feel him when he does and it’s the first time in weeks. And it’s her fault. In a moment she finds herself in another nowhere. There is no one within a few kilometers except those she is following so she becomes visible. She’s ever been a woman here but her appearance changes; when she meets the man she will take the shape he will trust most. Hopefully the second person won’t interfere. The church is small, tiny even; what is it doing so far from anywhere? Don’t they want people to come?

She pushes the door open and it creaks. The man turns and nods to her; he is in his late twenties, handsome for a mortal. His eyes hold a deep sorrow however; and for some reason he will trust a pregnant woman. That could make things complicated. She sits two pews behind him and prays too. When she looks up he is staring at her.
“Yes?” she asks softly.
“I am sorry I did not mean to interrupt your prayers. You seemed so peaceful.”
“Is it not the purpose of prayer? Find peace with the Lord above?”
“He is hard to find.”
“He always finds you. If you let Him.”
“Not me. Not anymore.”
“What could you have done that He would not recognize you?”
He hesitates… And says nothing. Not that trustworthy.
“We all have doubts. And we all sin.”
“You don’t seem to do either.”

She laughs softly.
“I did. Doubt. Sin. The result is for all to see.”
“Do you have regrets?”
“That I did not hear your call and caused the death of so many? Every day,” she thinks but instead she says. “Sometimes. But I cannot change the past. I can change the future though. And make it brighter.”
“What if I can’t?”
“One man has more power than you know. He can change the world if he has faith and hope.”
“Nathan?” And so it becomes clear. He made his choice to save his twin brother. He exchanged this one life for the world. “Are you ok?”
“Yes. This is…”
“Estelle… Desanges,” she offers as she extends her hand to his brother.
“That’s French?”
“It is.”
“I’m Jeremy.” She smiles. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“I did not see a car; did you walk?”
She knew it would become complicated.
“I did. I like a daily walk and today it brought me here. But I overreached I think. I won’t make it back to town. I am getting heavier.”
“We can give you a ride.” Jeremy offers.
“That would be nice, thank you.”

It is interesting to see how different they are despite their identical appearance. Where Jeremy projects hope and faith, Nathan seems to be wrapped in despair and doubt. Is it possible he realized what he did?
As Jeremy drives Nathan seems to forget her. She lets him be. She can’t force his trust. And if he does not speak to his brother, why should he speak to her? This entire thing might be impossible in this guise.
Jeremy stops in front of a pizzeria.
“I’ll grab something to eat for the hotel. Do you want something Estelle?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
When Jeremy is gone she asks Nathan.
“Not from here?”
“No. You?”
“Nope. Passing by.”
“So are we.”
“Headed where?”
“Hell.”
“How do you mean?”
“Haven’t you seen all that happens in the world these days?”
Of course she has. First hand too. The only reason she is not fighting is because she has her own role to play in this war. And if she fails they all are doomed.
“I have.”
“It’s my fault.”
“How could it be your fault?”
“You said a man can change the world.”
“I did.”
“Well I did. And for the worst so now I wonder what to do.”
“You may have the power to change the world; but here it sounds more like the end of it.”
“Precisely. You know, some believe that the choice of one man can doom humanity. I think I did that.”
“How?” So he knows, and it may not make things easier at all.
“My brother should be dead. But he is not because I made a choice.”
“What did you do?”
“God was deaf to my prayers. So when Jer passed I turned to Lucifer.” He had not called any demon to make a deal. He had summoned Lucifer out of hell and by doing so had opened the gates.
“I know how it works.”
“You do?”
“I read Faust. What did he ask in return?”
“That I forsake all I hold dear beside my brother… I did not know.”
“Of course. The just man rarely knows he cares for the world.”
“I brought down the Apocalypse on us.”
She shakes her head.
“Not really. It was not meant to be that way; there is no sorting of souls. They are lingering on earth until the fighting is down.”
“What fighting?”
“What do you think is creating all these disasters Nathan?”
“The four horsemen?” The expression on his face could have made her laugh in other circumstances. She shakes her head.
“Demons… and angels. In their real form our leaders reach the skies; and they do as they see fit. Since Lucifer fell they have free range when fighting demons. But now it means that humans are dying and their souls wander because those who should reap them are fighting. And if they wander for too long they will be lost. We cannot let that happen.”
“What can I do? Should I kill Jeremy to restore the balance? I can’t. There is no hope. I damned us all.”
“There always is hope Nathan. But you cannot kill your brother.”
He sighs heavily. He is relieved. That was what he was praying for in the church, a way to make things right even if it meant killing his own brother. Even though, there still is no hope in his heart. And without hope they cannot do anything.
“Your soul is not lost yet.”
“You are not human are you?”
“No.”
“This appearance?”
“Is what you wanted me to look like when I entered the church.”
“What do you really look like?”
“Not important. Will you come with me?”

He nods. She takes his hands. A blink she has Jeremy and they’re gone. The scene is bleak; corpses are everywhere, some partially buried some not but all burnt beyond recognition.
“Where are we?” Jeremy asks.
“Pompeii.”
“The first destruction.” Nathan adds. “After Jer came back.”
There is no way to make this easier.
“The door to hell. Hellhounds erupted out starting the fire before legions of demons led by the one you call Satan and the other fallen angels. They are more deadly and dangerous than demons, because they were princes in heaven and they fell by choice.”
“Why are we here?” Nathan asks.
“Because what we need is here. And it must be retrieved by the soul saved.”
“Jer?”
She nods and as she does she understands something.
“An angel has been hiding you from hell. Lucifer certainly knows he should not let you live.” She wonders at that. She thought all were fighting.
“The healer. He was with us until you arrived.” Jeremy’s conviction is surprising. Or maybe it is not for someone who has come back. “But he can’t heal Nathan’s guilt.”
“Do you know what we are looking for?” Nathan inquires.
“Your brother will.”
As it happens, Jeremy seems to be looking around.
“Jer? You ok?”
“I am. It’s just…”
“You feel the pull?”
“I feel “a” pull. And it is strong.”
“Follow it.” They walk through the dried lava. Dark and ashy, the air is still hard to breathe. They must be careful; something may guard the key. But she can’t feel anything; she closed the door she must open it again. When she does the pain causes her to fall. She gasps in pain; so many lights blown out. Michael fought here she can feel the remnants of his presence. She should have been with him. Still, they kept this place free of demons for her to come.
“Are you alright?”
“No. But let’s continue. We won’t be stopped here.”
“How do you know?” Nathan is uncertain.
“Trust her Nate.” Jeremy stops. “It’s here.”
Poiting towards the slope of the volcano Jeremy runs leaving the two of them rooted where they stand.
“I envy him.” Nathan says.
“For what?”
“His unwavering faith. He never doubts.”
“Maybe he does but keeps hope.”
“What hope? The world is at an end.”
“Only if we let it.”
“What will happen?”
She smiled to him.
“There are many possibilities still. But somehow, it depends on you.”
“Can you show me?”
“I’ve got it. All will be well.” Jeremy interrupts with a smile The box he is holding in his hands is black and engraved with old symbols. Jeremy makes to open it.
“Don’t!” she urges him. “You must not open this. Only your brother can, and not here.”
“Where?” She takes both their hands and in a blink they are in another pile of ruins. Angels and a tidal wave had left little of this city.
“What’s here?” Jer asks.
“The door of Heaven. It opens where the just man’s heart belongs.” She pauses. “This was New York.”
“Nate… Was it Jess?” Something she does not know. But she can guess. “You left her to be with me.” Jeremy is not asking. He knows. Nathan shrugs.
She interrupts. They have no time.
“Jeremy, give him the box?”
“What will happen?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t?!”
“I have faith in you.”
“I don’t.” Nathan says.
“Then have faith in Him.”
“How?”

She smiles and touches him. His eyes open wide as both look upon a woman, hair dark as night, eyes green as an emerald. She is pregnant and looking at him.
“Jess?” Nathan whispers.
“We’re waiting Nate. I miss you. Come back to us.”
“Is she really alive?” he asks her.
“It’s only a possibility, Nathan. But you can make it true.”
“It’s possible then?”
“One can only hope.”
“Hope?” She nods.
“Can I be forgiven?”
“You have but to ask in your heart of heart. This is why I am here.”
He closes his eyes and she feels his heart open, ripping through the doubt and the sorrow grabbing hope of redemption. Her own light seems to bloom and she knows He allows her to grant forgiveness. She kisses his brow then and speaks.
“Open Pandora’s box.”
“Pandora? As in the Greek stories?”
“Indeed.”
“So who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter. Open that box Nathan; it’s the only way to banish evil.”
“And angels?”
“They’ll come here.”
“Why?”
“Because I am the guiding star.”
“You mean your name? Star of the angels.”
“I am the one who shows the way to God. But I can’t be without you.”
“What if I can’t?”
“I know you can. Hold onto the ones you love.”

When he opens the box a maelstrom engulfs them; screams and yells of fury fill the atmosphere as the demonic legions vainly fight the pull of the box. The sound is frightening and Nathan looks scared. He must believe in his heart he can change the world before she can do anything. But Nathan doesn’t close the box.
“I can’t.” he cries.
“Be her.” Jeremy yells at her.
“What?” she doesn’t understand.
“Be Jess.”
She changes shape again. Nathan gasps.
“Kiss him!” Jeremy orders. She does and Nathan’s eyes widen. How could she not understand there were two he wanted forgiveness from? And as his heart soars, she starts burning brighter and brighter.
“Close your eyes both of you”. Although they resist, her siblings are called to her and pass into her onto Heaven; the way to God. Suddenly it stops and she falls on her knees. Nathan is at her side helping her up.
“Are you ok?”
“I am. You?”
“Yes. Jer?”
They look at Jeremy standing by the box; she can see the white halo around him. She understands then why.
“Hope.” She whispers.
“What?” Nathan asks.
“That’s why Raphael was walking with you; you’re Hope.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means that I will always be with you Nate… Hesediel, please bring him to Jess.”
“You know.”
“It could only be you: Forgiveness, Mercy. She’ll be there.”
“And you?” Nathan asks.
“I keep the box safe. Not here.” Suddenly, he disappears.
Nathan sighs.
“Are you alright?” she asks.
“I will be.”

He will be; his heart is open now to hope and love. She finds Jess there and brings them together. Their laughter follows her on her way home.

From the skies, she looks down on earth; the entire place is a wasteland still. But they will fix it.

©sbourquard

by **earendil81** » Sat Apr 26, 2014 6:38 pm

I wrote this one for the Toronto Star short story contest; the results were given last week and I didn't receive a phone call, which means I was not part of the top three. As such I am now allowed to post it :-)

. So I hope you enjoy.

Hopeless World?

She looked at the newspaper with a smile; it tasted bittersweet. It was the right thing to do but not the easy one. The Star was the last light in the darkness, the last voice of freedom in a world of tyrannical silence. And its headline would sentence it to the same silent death as others… Yet, it just might stir something. Hope was a powerful force and the last word of the article. But was there any left?

***

In the icy cold morning the child could be seen holding onto his threadbare coat and holding a bundle of papers as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. No one would really pay attention to the kid; there were so many of them in the streets. Orphaned and trying to scrap some food from neighbouring trash. That paper probably was a treasure, something that the young one could start a fire and keep warm with. It was a sad thing of their society; one that could make you cry really. Once these orphans would have been taken care of by near kin or placed in foster families: no longer. And the saddest part? Nothing could be done. It was just a matter of making sure they did not become dangerous; they would not be allowed to gather and organize in gangs. That might give them security but not to the good people of the city. So the police was there for that. The “good people’s” security had become the most important thing in this world. It started insidiously in so many ways; a few countries deciding that their ways were better and more progressive than others had led to economic if not outright colonization that had resulted in violent retorts; attacks upon big city centres that left thousands of innocent victims transformed people’s ways of thinking. Where freedom had meant everything fear prevailed; people preferred to know they were safe from evil people who threatened their societal system even though it meant that their individual liberties were slowly reduced until one day it was too late. Strangers were no longer welcome and this country that once was a flagship of multiculturalism had closed its borders and treated its immigrants as undesirables.

And then there were the media; few remembered now that historically – before History’s content was deemed unsuitable for teaching – that newspapers were the voice of freedom. So many authors once used newspapers to raise a voice against the excess of the government. But then newspapers, radio and TV channels – let’s not even mention what the internet had been – had become tools of propaganda and manipulation. It was not even new in History; other tyrants did it during the twentieth century. There were two world wars to fight for democracy and it died at the hands of those who fought for it then, by those who claimed they were its champions. Who could have known? Well in hindsight everyone should have. In fact some tried to denounce what was happening only to be silenced, at first by negative advertisement – a powerful tool that – and thanks to the media destroying their character. Then it became more and people were arrested on the suspicion of terrorism – a word that became so encompassing that marching peacefully upon the House of Commons to contest a law that went too far was considered an act of civil disobedience, then one of terror – and afterwards some would just disappear.

Finally the culture of snitching became the norm; just like the slow removal of individual liberties it started with something people believed reasonable. The police would remind the population – through the media of course – to watch out for petty criminals in the context of crimes committed in one’s neighbourhood, then it turned into ensuring that your neighbours were not part of some ‘terrorist’ group intending to bring down the government and “our” way of life by defiantly demonstrating. And so friends started denouncing friends, brothers would bring their sisters to the police, children “denouncing” their parents over a refusal to buy the newest toy or the prospect of potential estate. These years were now called “the Purge” a shortcut for ‘purging the society of its terrorist elements’. Mostly it allowed the government to enforce a control of its population in a world that was increasingly poor in natural resources. Even now ten years later the scars of the purge could be seen; and still there was not enough food for everyone. Snitching still gained people extra food and money, which everybody – except members of the government named for life by the Supreme Leader – needed direly.

And through this all the only newspaper that had continued to express discontent was the Star. It was hidden in its columns for those who knew how to read between the lines: since there was no blatant incitation to rebellion the power that be could not reasonably silence it. Until now.
“Mum?” She looked in the rear-view mirror. Her son blessedly too young to remember the years of violence claimed her attention. He looked so much like his father it sometimes hurt. She had wondered so often if anyone noticed and prayed they did not.
“Yes darling?”
“One of my classmates made a presentation on the Supreme Leader’s coming to power today.”
“And? Was it interesting?”
“I don’t know. It seemed he was a hero, but I am not so sure. If he were there would not be so many kids in the streets with nothing like the one we just saw.”
She could have cried; she had not wanted Ethan to notice. She had strived to educate her son in a careful way navigating between what would be safe for him and what would still be a reflection of who she was and what she believed in. But it was a world where an act of kindness could result in a long time in one of the government’s “rehabilitation facilities” and he surprised her.
“You didn’t think I’d seen him.” He sounded resentful. She sighed.
“I hoped you didn’t sweetie. It’s a difficult world we live in.”
“Because if I’m nice to others people will hurt me?”
“There’s that.”
“But you are nice to people. You gave a blanket to that old lady last week.”
“I did. But I did it in secret.”
“It’s not right.” There was a teenager’s definite certainty in his voice.
“Honey I know but you can’t ever say it in front of anyone else.”
“Has it always been that way?”
What did she answer to this? The truth could hurt the both of them; a lie might do more harm if or when his son discovered what she was up to.

“I’ll tell you a story Ethan but it’s something you cannot tell anyone; not your teachers, not your friends… not even Sarah.” He nodded seriously. And so she told him about the world from before; she didn’t go into details when it came to the violence of it. He was after all only twelve years old. But she did tell him of the world’s imperfections and how the seeds for what had happened after were already planted. Still there had been freedom and the rule of law; imperfectly applied but with all its faults the system had allowed for a somewhat healthy society where people could thrive and be generous if their nature was thusly made. When it came to it, there was no denying the violence of the purges. She spoke briefly of them and then of the ‘revelation’ by one newspaper of the Governor’s alleged betrayal of the Nation’s values and how they were responsible for the purges that had affected the good citizens of the country. The media asserted she had consorted with terrorists to undermine the hold of true patriots on our beautiful nation. The proofs were sketchy at best but it had been enough to raise people to fury, the same ones who had been apathetic for years. There had been a riot, most of the family had been killed thus cutting the final ties with the United Kingdom, something many had wanted for a long time considering the royal family corrupted for they had done nothing to prevent the “others” from invading through the process of immigration. And all had begged the man who revealed the treason become their ruler. He had become the Supreme Leader and moved Parliament to Toronto the more patriotic city – ironic considering it was the only city that still housed the one rebellious newspaper although it could always be argued that the Supreme Leader allowed it to run despite its dissentious articles. She didn’t tell him all though about the Leader though; some things are better left unspoken. Still when she finished Ethan’s eyes were wide open.

“That’s what’s in the newspaper.” He whispered in awe.
“What newspaper?” she asked.
“The Star.”
“What about it?”
“The headline.” Ethan took out a paper from his bag and held it open. When she saw the headline she braked suddenly and even before the car came to a stop she turned snatching the paper from his hands shoving it into her handbag. He must not be found with this.
“Who gave you this?”
“It was in the teacher’s lunchroom.”
“What were you doing in there?”
“I had to bring my homework to Ms. Clap but she wasn’t in there. No one was. It’s the first time ever.”
She couldn’t fathom what that meant but it wasn’t a good thing that Ethan had this with him. She would have stopped on the curve and thrown the newspaper in the nearest garbage bin only it would have attracted people’s attention. No she could only hope to be able to discard it some place safe.
“I shouldn’t have taken it.” Ethan said wistfully.
“It’s alright sweetie. You couldn’t know.”
“I saw the picture on the front. It seemed familiar. I’m not sure why but then I started reading. Do you think it’s true he sent the Governor’s children to one of the rehabs?”
“It’s usually the way things are done.”

They drove in silence for a while until Ethan spoke once more.
“Mum, what’s going on?”
“Where?”
“Outside.”
She looked out; a few vagrants were clustered here and there as if shying away from a threat that terrified them. One of them met her eyes – the woman she had given a blanket to – and she appeared sad and sorry. She looked ahead of her and sighed. A random act of kindness paid with denunciation; there was no hope left in this world. No good deed went unpunished. She stopped the car and without turning spoke to Ethan.
“Sweetheart, I want you to stay in the car; no matter what happens you can’t get out. And if they come and ask you about the newspaper you must tell them it was mine, understood?”
“Mum?” He looked scared her little boy. And she couldn’t give him comfort.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Do you promise?”
“But.”
“Ethan.”
“Yes. What if they don’t come?”
“You have your key?”
“Yes.”
“Then go to our secret place and stay here for as long as you can. Sarah will come and take care of you.”
“And you?”
“I don’t know sweetheart; you have to be brave.”

There were tears in his eyes but he did not cry; she found she was having trouble not to. She shook her head and stepped out of the car without looking back; she needed to ensure they didn’t guess Ethan was in the car. Unlikely as it was that they wouldn’t check, she must try. As she approached her house the officers of the special force surrounded her. On the steps of her porch stood the one person everyone revered and feared, the one person she despised above everyone else.
“Anastasia Swift?” He smirked.
“Supreme Leader.” She answered stiffly.
“Oh come on, Ana. It’s been a while but we won’t stand on protocol. Why don’t you invite me in?”

She really didn’t want to but she couldn’t afford not to; sighing and forcing herself not to glance behind her she opened the door and let him and his guards in. He made himself comfortable sitting on the sofa. She stood until he motioned her to sit; she didn’t intend to but when one of the officers struck her face she did sit.
“You should not have let them post that picture of you, Ana. That was stupid. Someone recognized you.”
“It was a risk worth taking. The fact that you are here to silence me is only further proof that the article spoke true. You killed your own family Samuel.”
“They were not my family.”
“You might pretend otherwise but they adopted you; they loved you. And you had them killed for a power you would not have held otherwise. And you claim they were corrupted.”
“It seems our rehabilitation program manager did not think clearly when he released you. Did you sleep with him as you did with my brother? Your own little access to power?”
“I loved your brother Samuel.”
“You did. You loved him.” Understanding hit her in the guts. It couldn’t have been about that. Surely not! It took an immense effort not to retch. “Well back to rehab; under my supervision this time.” She blanched at. “Oh… I know they let you out because of the boy.” Terror then. “He’s in your car, right?” She bit her cheeks to blood staying silent as the guards surrounded her and manacled her wrists behind her back. “Should I take him in and raise him as my son? I could be his father. The streets? A centre? Interesting possibilities. You’ll never know. Your attitude might even influence his future.”

He laughed at the look of pure loathing she threw him. They pulled her out of the house in front of neighbours, friends who turned away that they wouldn’t be associated with her disgrace. She couldn’t blame them and yet she was furious. It would only take a spark. Someone please. But no one said anything and soon she was secluded in the dark van attached to the floor. There was no hope left after all. The article had been useless and her son was lost either way. She cried then.

***

When the door opened she blinked; her eyes no longer used to the light hurt badly.

“Anastasia Swift?” A man’s voice asked.
“…” Parched, she could not speak. She nodded instead.
“Water?” Again she acquiesced.
Suddenly it felt like life came back as the cool liquid dripped into her throat.
“Thank you.” She whispered.
But he didn’t answer; when she looked up tears were streaming down his face. He held her up embracing her with a gentleness she didn’t understand.
“Mum. Finally.”
“Ethan?” He nodded in turn. He had grown. “How long?” She murmured breathless.
“Ten years.” Despite the tears he sounded happy, elated. “But we’re free. He’s gone. There was hope after all.”

©scolpron2014

by **earendil81** » Thu Sep 04, 2014 7:46 am

Challenged to write a Tanka (a longer version of haiku 5-7-5-7-7), this is what came.

He was a kind man
Or so everyone would say
Today she hates him
For he has been her husband
And now she's just his widow.

©scolpron2014

The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and Tolkien - The One Ring

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