Writing

There is No Home

The land hid under the bodies of many. Wooden houses lay scavenged and empty. Red splatters tainted everything, and corpses scattered above them. The sun was suspended in the air, lining everything with a powder of death. Swords and arrows were as frequent as trees in a forest. This was the town of Lemdal after the Dozen Year War.

The houses were low, almost conquered by the sand dunes. They had no roofs or walls, only ghostly blueprints to a life long lost. Charred weapons and stout torches were scattered as remnants of a battle. The air was filled with dark stony ashes and choking smoke. Persistent fires emitted the only fleeting light within the ash. This was the town of Churs after the Dozen Year War.

Her sword glistened brightly in comparison to the dull town around her. It was still patched with blood from the war it killed in. The bodies she saw all held some sentiment to her, and she does not even try. Tears streamed down her face as she stood aside of her town, motionless. She was Eeva, and her powerful home Lemdal was destroyed.

His armor remained invincible, but his sword was splintered into trembling sadness. He leaned against a pillar in disbelief and agony. Stroking its rugged edges, it was the only spared monument around. He desperately tried to search for his house, only to find it blown away. The cracked borders of his parent’s room remained as a gravestone of their existence. He allowed constant tears to flow from his eyes. He was Vual, and his hometown, Churs, was decimated.

Eeva didn’t act for hours. She was lost, recalling memories in the empty town. She grew, she played, and she loved between the streets of dirt. She could still see her unappreciative self and her family, laughing. Their bodies lay on the floor now, still as settled snow. She wondered how they died, and if she could have killed the cause.

Vual scrambled to replace the rubble. He found a few charred corpses stacked in a pile and rampaged through the bodies for his family. He spent long nights giving everyone a proper funeral. He cried, a child once again. With large rocks from the river, he gave each infinite respects on a tombstone.

Eeva had joined the army when the war first started. Both sides had always wished for a compromise, but the denied kidnapping of dozens of Lemdal oxen forced the chief to declare war. There was still turmoil about the legend that was acknowledged and dusted long ago. The Churs were living on the expanses of desert when the Lemdal came. The land was given to the Lemdal people divinely, but the Churs acted in violence. After much unwanted sacrifice, half of the land became Lemdal, and the remainder stayed Churs. Forests formed walls where the Lemdal lived, and the Churs grew more hate for them in their remaining land.

Vual was one of the last to become active in the conflict. He evaded the army for the longest time, but was forced to join in the final year. Despite his unwillingness, he hated the Lemdal with all of his existence. Vual vividly remembered the first time he was told the old myth. He believed it with his sacred heart and pleaded to hear it retold many times. He hated everything that was Lemdal with a lupin anger. Even in his immature years, he understood how valuable land was. He wanted to live on the land that was once Churs.

Eeva was devastated. She knew that the Churs have succeeded. They were going to come and claim the Lemdal territory for their own. She was the lone survivor and she would kill everyone she could. For the Lemdal culture, Eeva perseveres.

Vual saw his misery as a victory for the Lemdal people. When they claimed the land as their own, he will attempt to kill them all. He knew the day would come, so he spent all of his energy preparing to fight them. Every night, he curled next to his pillar of support, sobbing and tiring himself to sleep. He worked to distract himself with revenge.

Eeva waited for them to attack. She sharpened her sword mindlessly, thinning the edge to slice the chest pieces of her enemies. She scavenged the land for food and weapons. Her wounds did not bother her – they could bleed out for all she cared. All she wanted was revenge for the killing of her family and her love. She repeated the lore in her head, but every time she thought of it, new details erupted. She was falling into the depths of madness.

Vual forged armor with what he could find, nursing to his wounds with a maternal care. He made a bow from the strong wood he could gather. He pulled fibers off of a tree branch, and braided them into a bowstring, delicately and precisely. He recalled the woodworker of the town, fastening bows with lightning, and slowly salted the wood with memories of the big man. His slender, sturdy arms would sooth Vual when his parents did not. He barred his teeth at the thought of him dead, expelling the cakey feeling from his face. He would have vengeance for him.

Eeva tenderly touched her scars, stroking them as if to feel the blade slicing through them before. They swelled up now, the red valleys turning into burgundy hills. She had never been one for healing – that was her neighbor’s specialty. Whenever she would have hurt herself, he would always tend to the wounds with a smile. That was why she loved him so much. Tears fell onto the wounds as she wrapped them with a cloth. For him, she will kill the murderers.

Vual moved to watch his face in the rippling water after a grueling day of crying. His hair had writhed into a bird’s nest of revenge. A beard breathed at his skin, quietly encouraging him. His eyes glittered with impatience and his lips were still red with cuts and scarred with dryness. Overpowering and beautiful were his armor pieces, flashing brightly with the sun. Vual was a shield that no one could break through. He tried to butcher himself with a tear. The ripple dashed across the pond, shattering.

Eeva awoke one morning to laughter that sounded like her brother’s. The melancholy bursts of happiness seemed like a dream. She touched her eyes tenderly but felt no tears. A desire to see her face and what she had become, still and unfeeling, overwhelmed her. A shard of mirror lay in her view and attracted her attention. Her eyes were blood tainted, hungry for revenge to fill the void. She was skinnier but fiercer than before. She wore clothing that accented her pale blonde hair. The mirror slipped from her grasp and brought itself down, distorting.

Eeva’s face fell. She gave up. The sky crumpled. Resemblance was devastating.

Vual’s legs collapsed. He cried sorrowful. The ground caved. Memories were lethal.

She wanted no revenge. She needed to leave forever.

He didn’t want retribution. He needed to disappear.

She betrayed all. She tore at her protection, resting a dagger on her neck. Pressing slightly, she tasted pain and remembered. Her family had been secretly suicidal for generations, and Eeva regretted not being able to help anyone. When her brother killed himself, Eeva set herself to be in a position of anti-self harm. Her perspective of war resembled suicide, but she would die honorably. A noble death would pride her and allow her to pass with no regrets. The sword was lowered and sheathed.

He abandoned everything. Uncovered became his sword and to his chest it went. Rays of heated pain leaped from the puncture. The feeling unsettled him, flooding him with delicate emotions from his past. The war and the fear of bloodshed consumed him again. Vual dropped the knife in fear and shock. It seemed wrong for all the perfect reasons.

Driven by dead promises, Eeva had to live. Loosely wrapping cloth around her neck, she quickly sharpened her loyal sword and silenced it. The rest of her possessions were assembled on the ground, quietly dusting away. Her sword moved tirelessly at her side. With a light step, Eeva set off.

Pushed by the fears of the past, Vual must go on. He carried only a small dagger, just enough to propel his needs. With armor fully equipped, he left his sword on the doorstep, neatly abandoned. The sky seemed so dead when he left.

The forest was the fence, repelling the Churs. Their destructive arrogance had brought most of the trees down. The Lemdal people had always valued nature. They cared for the arbors, only selecting the dying ones for torches. The woodland had always been sacred to Eeva. Her height now exceeded even the tallest trees. Step after step, she ran away from her home, the tears streaming reluctantly from her eyes once again.

Churs was a desert town that survived in the high heat and harsh sand. The village was split by a stream that started in the mountains. The peaks were impossibly tall, so that you would have died before you reached the top. Vual used fabrics to cover his face and dry his eyes. The desert held nostalgia in him, and now raging fires swelled in every corner of the dunes. The Lemdal must pay for their actions, but he knew their satisfaction would surpass that.

The forest ended at the plains, where the desert eventually buried tall grasses. Small wall-less huts provided Eeva cover from the coming sun. Lemdal never received too much heat. The Churs must have been savage to live in such conditions. The shade in the hot temperatures lured Eeva to a standing sleep, waiting for the army to attack.

The desert ended at the plains, where rough sand morphed into refined forests. Chiseled sand structures had once provided rest, and they would do so one last time. The warm interior pleased Vual and the sunlight sang to him. This heat was the essence of life, and the Lemdal must have been dead to not enjoy it. The light breezes persuaded his eyes to close, dreaming until his land was sought.

The urge to join her people overwhelmed Eeva. The smile of the shade would be her last comfort as she ventured out to face certain death.

The memories of happiness prodded Vual back to the conflict at the present. He left everything as he entered the plains between the different lands. Death shall be his today.

A figure in the distance brought Eeva a strange sort of hope.

A figure in the distance granted Vual a unique kind of eagerness.

From its scent, she could tell it was a Churs person.

From its gait, he could infer that it was a Lemdal person.

As they approached one another, Eeva could see his face. Worn hair poured over dark, tanned skin. He seemed like an average Churs dweller. Her face curled into an artificial sneer.

As they continued walking, Vual could see her features. Pale hair cascaded over equally fair skin. She seemed like a normal Lemdal warrior. His attitude overcame with false anger.

“Churs scum!”

“Lemdal rat!”

A breeze blew and daggers emerged like fallen leaves. Rushing towards one another, the blades reversed.

A puncture to the stomach. A stab to the heart.

“For Lemdal, the village of the forest!”

“For Churs, the town of the desert!”

A final breath. Still four feet from each other. Eternal loyalty to home.

Sorry for the lack of updates! I’ve been pretty busy with school and things, but I did manage to finish this for a writing contest. You can check it out here, but I doubt that you’ll have time to submit anything. Also, its for grades 7-12, so…

Hope you enjoy!

Two Natures

The ground screams sadness
with its tear-dampened trees
and the dew on unsaturated leaves.
It echoes melancholy
with its limitless fog
and its shadowed bark.

The sky whispers hope
for those forgotten in the clouds.
For the those that sob within
and those that cry without.
For the ones that need it most
and for the ones that don’t at all.

Sorry for the lack of content!

But I’m Innocent!

Can one no longer stay a jewel
a beautiful, glowing bead?
Is there some torrented mischief
in every single seed?

Can we no longer not know things,
and still get on just fine?
Do we need to be perverted
every single time?

Is a child no longer precious,
divine, just or nice?
Are we all supposed to know
every grain of rice?

Can we be pure and gold
with every word we say?
Is innocence even possible
especially today?

Underworld

A queen of severed reign,
a king of ravenous crown,
a scepter of dark feign,
down and down and down.

Castles of infinite wealth
but unpleasant voices found,
stuck in eternal health
but crying sobs drowned.

A king and queen upset
with infamy renowned
no pleasantness met
down and down and down.

Asphodel

I tread with lighted toes
on something unseen and bitter.
There I dread with heavier souls
to await my fate with litter.

The world is dark and constraintful
yet I stand solemnly alone.
in a field hauntingly beautiful
and chilling to the bone.

Many stand next to me
shoulder by shoulder we wait.
Constantly awaiting to be free
of our life’s cruel mate.

Waiting for eternity and over
for judgement unknown.
Oh how some wished not to be sober
or over the fields flown.

How we wished for shortcuts
such with our souls sell
for even the ferocious mutts
are in this subsection of hell.

Anti-Semite

PRECAUTION: The following words do not represent my thoughts, just a different, hated perspective.

The sound and noise startles me
but I am not afraid
to say what I really see
that your rope is frayed.

What malice and what sorrow
do I put in these here
to hate you all the morrow
when my time is near

Such a bead of purity
lends me such delight
and with much ferocity
I punish thee with might.

I cannot feel this feeling
or repent this deed
this heart in me is not beating
I am dead indeed.

Concentration

I do not wish to offend
or even to depress
but I only wish to see the bend
and earn my own recess.

Success might be the end of me
or the goals I have worked so hard for
but if I could just truly see
it would benefit all the more.

So my heart is not in hurting
especially not to rupt
but this is what I’m saying
can you please shut up.

Another old, cute poem

 

Self-Forgiveness

I live in a very strange world
full of mystics and wonder.
I stay in my hole curled
contemplating my every blunder.

 I first became outspoken
then I stayed too quiet.
Next, I claimed a vase broken
then no one came to buy it.

I finally went, with all courage
to a place without friends.
There, I did step in mysterious foliage
and came out with all ends.

To this day, I have not forgotten
what I have done wrong.
But even with all lessons gotten,
I cannot move on.

So with this decree
I can daresay
that there will be no one to love me
especially today.

an old poem of mine

Escaping Life

Alcohol is increasingly appeasing to the public because of its ability to allow the user to forget about problems. But what happened to facing problems and fears straight on? Why can’t we accept the life that is full of unconformities? From failures, we learn how to do things right and what not to do. When did leaving understanding become so common? In every culture, there are ways to escape reality, many of which include the use of alcohol. Recreational activities are being carried out because of the desire to find something to distract themselves from the reality, instead of being done for fun and to rid of boredom. Practically every part of life has been twisted so that escape could be possible. Meals have expanded to four or five to deal with stress. The Internet has been loved for its addictive nature. (Internet Essay). Hobbies have been upgraded to the extreme, and have been attempted to expand even further. When did humans decide that problems were not real and should never be considered as reality? When did we, when we consider ourselves the most superior species, decide that life wasn’t worth our trouble? 

Alcohol is a major travel agent out of reality. Though it contains many healing purposes, overconsumption can lead to death, and anything slightly less than that will be sure to hook the user to come back for more. With so many different types, it’s hard to get bored, and mixing them results in even more combinations. Bars and liquor stores are thriving, and even the Prohibition was repealed to deal with reality like the people did. Withdrawing the use of these toxic materials would cost the government so much money that they would even consider themselves wrong to gain a fraction of it. But does the drink really give a sense of freedom? If anything, it frees the control in your life, which may be good for some. The sense of no control and absolute freedom is a riveting one, but dangerous if obtained for too long. Freedom must be restrained by self-control, or it will fly out of hand and result in the feeling of boredom. Controlled use of alcohol is rare but useful, as they provide the best experience from the beverage.

Food can also be a consumption that helps deal with life and the stress that comes with it. Sweets and other junk foods allow the pressured to relieve themselves with the help of comforting foods. Sad eating is a condition that many have, and it occurs frequently with the depressed. Something about the nature of food allows it to hug and comfort any tired or unsettled mind, but it’s really just another way to leave problems and access delusionary freedom. What kind of freedom comes with food but one that decides how your life will play out- as a giant, or as a dwarf? Hungry or chubby? Taste is a major point that draws food to the eye. One satisfied taste may result in a couple more, and the sight of the food constantly plaguing the stressed comes with finishing the entire quantity, though that might have been unintentional at the start. Food with electronics comes with a greater price- mindless eating. Bite after bite, the entire bag of chips could be finished simply because of the desire to continue doing the same action. Craving for a food often comes with over-consumption as well, as it may seem so much better than it really is just because the consumer waits for it.

Material objects in general would result in addiction, the escape providing opportunities to sport the newest fashion or enjoy the latest trends. Materialism ranges from shoes to SillyBands, anything from dresses to makeup. The thought of giving off a vibe of cuteness, grunge, or laid-back is strong, even if that isn’t what the person’s true personality resides. The desire to conform and eventually forget problems overcomes many individuals. Material objects also provide a comfort that they won’t move unless the user moves them, and they will perpetually be there for them. This is never true, as all materials erode and continue to get destroyed as they can’t move themselves. No object is permanent, and nothing should be considered so. Trends and fashion is as impermanent as the materials they are made of, and should not be considered for escaping realities. 

Life may present you with many difficulties, but it’s best to remain optimistic and remember that nothing is permanent, especially your problems. Dealing with everything face on is then best way to do anything, even if it terrifies you. The terror will result in a stronger view on life, and a stronger resistance to all things wrong. Escape and running from the problem is never the correct response, though it is the most tempting thing to do.