|Blogs > desleeped > I Stole This Blog|
Sometimes I write.
Sometimes I write.
When I can not sleep,
When I feel the need to say something,
When I want to scream at the top of my lungs,
When there is a story brewing in my head,
When I feel like cutting off a head,
When nothing else will do, I write.
Sometimes writing makes the monsters go away.
Sometimes writing makes the monsters.
Sometimes, writing is the monster.
For now, I write. I may tell stories. I may tell lies. I may write fantasy. I may write fantasy... from a feminine point of view. Sometimes I may write like it will bring the characters to life.
Sometimes I may just want to kill my characters. Only in a story will I ever really be in control. As if I could control a story! Ah, time to tell a story.
The man did not know what had happened. He used to be respected. They used to revere him, call to him from the windows of their homes just to wave hello. Now he is feared. Shunned. They avert their eyes when he passes. It is almost as if... No. That would be unthinkable. He raises a hand to his face. No. Still the same guy I was. Hmm. Maybe... yup. As he reaches around his back, he can feel the large leathery wings that have grown in. Yes, he decides. It must be the wings. They were a gift from The Angel. As he walks to the fountain in the square he comes upon his last friend in the entire village. "Hello Vicael." The man turns slowly. He is very old. "Hello Jacob. How are you today?" the man is blind. Jacob knows Vicael by some way currently unknown to Vicael. "I am sad today. They still fear me Jacob. I am still the same, but they treat me like some monster. Not like the man that secured their town as they slept for the past 40 seasons." It has been days since Vicael recieved his wings. He is not used to them, but he is learning to use them. "They will never accept you for the man they knew. The time draws near when the fear in their hearts will overbalance the love they had for you and cause them to rise against you. You must go now, while you can. Fear is a powerful thing, Vicael. Don't let their fear destroy you." Vicael nods. "I understand. I will miss you my friend." With a brief handshake, he turns and begins the long walk east. The trip to Angazza will give him time to think. The witches there are well known for the wise advice they often have bestowed upon travelers to their temple. They have been known to assign tasks to some that are said to be able to accomplish unique feats. "Maybe they will have something for me."
This may be continued, if it gains a following. I can even make a novel out of it. It all depends upon whether you all like it. Feel free to post comments. I would love the input. Good or bad. If you liked it, say so. If you thought it was not worthy to be published on toilet paper, I would also like to know such things. Leave a comment. It wont hurt any more than an editors papercut.