A short poem based on the Canada warehouses and those who worked there
Blood red moon,
Battle’s coming soon.
Suspended in the sky,
Product of a lie.
Death by noon.
The precursor to a coming fiction post
Life has been a bit hectic at the moment so I haven’t had time to put pen to paper let alone sit down in front of my laptop. So what better way to dive back in than with the tale of a man who quite simply didn’t have enough time?
Without further introduction I give you Raktacolas a soldier in the Aticulan army. Of course he wasn’t just any soldier, he was a well-known lord. Famed in fact for his skill with a sword, it wasn’t just him but whole company he led that was renowned. A group of ten heavy armed knights all of whom sat atop great horses with gleaming coats and would go anywhere, do anything, in the name of duty.
He vaulted onto the back of the motorbike quickly kicking it into gear and tearing off. Behind him echoed the angry shouts of the security guard and he watched his quarry escape. Suddenly he swerved only just avoiding the police car that had pulled out in front of him. His grin of triumph faded and he focused on the road ahead turning down an alley to emerge onto another road.
When you’re screaming and no one can hear you. When you’re hurt and no one can help you. What can you do but go on living alone? You do everything you can to hold on to who you, to what you are but even as you do so you feel that little bit of humanity begin to slip away.
There are days when I feel the weight of my destiny crushing me; when I feel as if I’m going to collapse underneath it. Yet somehow I find the strength to keep going to struggle back to my feet and stand again against the changing flow. I’m always here, I’ve always been here and I’ll always be here. I am what you would call a fact and yet I don’t fit your definition.
A single word uttered,
A thought only muttered.
A crash and a band,
Then the telephone rang.
So we’re back again with our favourite knight. The one who was utterly disgraced and then managed to win back his honour. The one who is twice bound by oaths to protect his king and to protect a key gifted to that very king. This story takes place before the prince became a king, before the knight became the first knight of the kingdom. He’s regained his honour but he’s still not really trusted, he’s still not really believed. The one thing everyone agrees on though is that this knight, once disgraced for running, will never flee from danger even if it means his certain death.
Step one: make sure you don’t know all of your enemies banners, so it takes you a long time to realise there is a threat.
The knight was out alone on a patrol, when he saw it. A huge army heading towards him with great banners flying high above it. He scanned the colourful fabric searching for a banner he recognised, some sign that this army wasn’t a threat. There. A banner flapped in the breeze opening as the knight looked at it and a spark or recognition was lit inside him. His heart sank, this was an attack not a mustering of allies. He turned his horse and spurred it in the direction of the city.
It occurred to me the other day as I was recounting my story. A story which has been put into words for you by my editor, that I never really told you who I was. I just dived straight into my story. Even now I can hear you wondering who I am. This is your chance to find out? So I agreed for you to have this one interview without any changes, without it being taken out of my words. So, let us begin.
[The editor sat down across from the man at a park bench. The man looked up and nodded once in greeting before they began].
You never once told me your name
Last time: The leader looked at me curiously before he extended a hand and asked, “Would you like to see our real one?” I hesitated before taking the hand with a nod and letting him lead me away from the building. We walked along a track that took us down into a hidden valley and then I could see a mass of tents sprawled out before me. There stood only one permanent building which appeared to be a stable. The leader released my hand and moved his arm to rest in companionship across my shoulders. As we neared the tents people looked up and started as they saw me their eyes darting curiously to the man at my side.
“Who is he?” they whispered amongst themselves. I resisted the urge to stop and reply instead letting myself be led deeper into the maze of tents. Eventually we stopped and I looked around searching for a reason why. We were in a circular clearing which I had seen from above as we entered the valley. I knew then that we were in the middle of the tents and I stood taller waiting for what was to come.
He wanted to discover more about himself. Or at least that had been his excuse when he was asked why he was going on this strange trip. Surprisingly they had backed off then nodding and conceding to let him go. It had been a lie though, it wasn’t self discovery he craved but rather the adventure of this trip.
He smiled at the people around him before he gave one last wave and twisted the decorative bracelet on his wrist. He’d discovered it a few years before and something about the ring of gold had caught his attention. It was made of three strands of slightly different shades that twisted together to make the bracelet. There were little symbols carved into the gold and it was these that he had been studying. His conclusion, the bracelet would allow him to travel in time. As he twisted in he pressed down hard on two of the symbols and then he was gone. Vanished into the past.