Fantasy Poetry posted June 28, 2010 | Chapters: | ...5 6 -7- 8... |
The Wandering man encounters a desperate town
A chapter in the book Chronicles of the Wandering Man
The Wishing Well of Fate
by Fleedleflump
XVIII We found the town that fateful day, that hateful, fatal place replete with greetings' violent smile; a gun trained on my face. The eyes behind were wild with hyp that bred with unhinged zeal, their gaze a hungry, feral greed, our sanity their meal. The town was decked in Devil's garb and beauty come to harm. Black bells rang out at every hour; a call to prayer and arms. The air was choked with grease and fear while malice walked the streets. All peace had left this loveless place to fester in deceit. XIX They herded us by gun and boot into a rotting shed, ostensibly for quarantine against infection's spread. We knew we had to find a way to help the light return, and from this fetid, dirty place the madness must all burn. Eventually they kicked us, bound and gagged, to face a judge. They sat us by the village well to sate a spiteful grudge. Our freedom was a symbol of the life they had denied, and justice had no guiding hand in what they might decide. XX An oil pump hammered up and down to give this town its life, and from its shadow crawled the judge to underline our strife. Decayed, decrepit, rotting eyes with madness housed within alighted on our hog-trussed forms with vile and proud chagrin. "You are accursed, you evil fiends!" the judge yelled to the sky. "Only the Lord can save your souls, you cannot him deny." With that he ordered guns to bear upon our helpless forms. I leaned against my bride of night and waited for the storm. XXI No saviour, I, to help this place, messiah to the world. Instead my quest was just my pride around my dead heart curled. The love I found was all for naught, I saw as powder bloomed. The future world would bow to this; the evil that men do. And then Dark Eve became a cloak thrown bloody over me, her body flung to save my life and possibilities. To yells of hate and anguished tears, I hurled myself away into the wishing well of Fate, and as I fell, I prayed. |
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Hyp - a morbid depression.
I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter.
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Hyp - a morbid depression.
I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter.
Mike
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