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So little time
For sleep or dreams
Even when I wish
They do not come
Is the world out of dreams?
I tread along
This sinuous path
Careful to keep him
Within my sight
As he fades
Into the shadows
Once more
Though I struggle
My dear
You are not lost from me
And never
Are you far
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Night falls
And thoughts of you
Race through my head
Your icy breath
Licks my skin
You are close now
Even in this pathetic state
The smell of your cologne
Draws me from the shadows
Deep within
Days following The Decree
The land scorched over
Evenings frosted
To such extremes
Nothing could live
In between
Except the undead
And Redeemed
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‘Twas an accident, I confess. Not sure where to begin, so let me just jump right in. I caught her spying on me through the window that eve as I poured over edits of The Canterbury Chronicle. As I hurried to bolt the door, the pale shadow slipped inside, combing her blonde locks with her fingers.
“Do not be frightened, dear. I am an admirer,” she murmured, licking the keen point of her incisors with her tongue. “Pity I have had to savor your work from afar, pondering every word, every subtle turn of phrase. No longer.” She advanced me. “Is that tomorrow’s edition?”
“Yes.” I steadied my trembling hands.
“Good, then I have a story for you: the wisdom of an old, enlightened soul,” she mused.
“Very well.” I backed into my desk. “Who would you like me to interview?”
“Myself, of course.” She lifted her crimson dress, and eased into the chair.
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The world raced by in all its fiery madness. I could see my epitaph now:
Here lies Yvan Frollingswyrth
That cranky old bastard
Who was foolish enough
To marry a cloud faery
And was never seen again
Through a tunnel of fire we bounded, our essence thundering across the world of Adura. My eyes burned, teeth chattered, and balls ached. Before I could curse the dragon whose magic sent us here, an explosion ripped through the spinning inferno.
I grabbed Ivy, and held her close as molten debris rained down on us. As we bathed in a hail of fire and brimstone, a wayward fragment shot into my mouth, and down my throat. Even if I could swallow fire, I did not want to see what it looked like coming out the other end, so I hacked as best I could, coughing my lungs inside out. To my surprise the sinking ember had gone down smoothly, as if I’d inhaled a firefly rather than charred ruin. But what would an insect be doing in the tunnel of fire? Aw, well. Perhaps I needed a little extra protein.
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Unwashed hordes
Amble along
Tattered rags
Dangling
From weary bones
Ravenous cries
Echo across the plains
Mindless scavengers
Yearning
For a scrap of flesh
But not this wayward soul
My mind
Is not so far gone
That I cannot reel in
My darkest desires
I struggle
To string together
A few simple words
Moans
Whimpers
Nothing more
Than gibberish
At times
I sound no different
Than the others
I’ve tried communicating
With them before
Wide blood-red eyes
Blackened tongues wriggling
They simply do not comprehend
None are like me
Nor seek a remedy
For this plague
They stagger along
Submissive to their pangs
Hunger the only notion
Crossing their feeble brains
Like insects they scatter
Into the horizon
Till they can crawl
No more
While I sit
And pray
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Warm tears
Are my only comfort
I weep for a small eternity
Losing track of where I am
This body
Barely recognizable
What have I become?
This skin
Once soft and radiant
Now the color of the grave
My blond locks fade
A dark shade
Running through them
I am nothing more
Than a corpse
I am here without you
My love
And without you
I’ve lost my way
Thinking about you
All day long
Wondering where I've been
And why God gave me
Another day
To fill with my despair
If only
I had you near
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Lawson gazed into her pale face, running his fingers through her long, dark hair. "Endolyn?" he whispered, but she did not stir. He kissed her forehead, and walked out of the room, leaving the door ajar.
He sat down at his workbench, and turned the lantern clock over. Opening its back, he gazed inside, and noticed a brass gear slightly bent to one side. He reached in, and fished it out, setting it on the table. Banging down with his riveting hammer, he straightened the metal disc, and eased it back in place. Lawson turned the clock upright, and watched the pendulum begin to swing.
As the clock chimed, Lawson spotted his wife across the room. "My love, what is it?" He jumped off the stool. "You should be resting. Come, have a seat." He led her to the table.
Endolyn sat down, gaping at her odd surroundings. As he took her hand, the skin darkened and bruised over. She whimpered, and placed her head on the wooden table.
"Hang in there, dear." Lawson patted her softly. "The doctor will be here by morning."
She beat down her fist, over and over until it bled.
or
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