Sunday, September 23, 2012

An Apple A Day

The tiny young lad looked upwards to what seemed higher than the sky, his bright green eyes peering through the toussled red-brown bangs that hung to his cheekbones. In the pudgy fingers of his one small hand he gripped a barely ripened apple, a small, single bite taken from it. As if in slow motion, the unchewed piece fell out from the small boy's gaping mouth as he stood frozen in the damp dirt of the road, his wide eyes looking up, and up and up.

With hooves the size of the boy's head a broad chested warhorse stamped the ground, kicking up mud onto the small human, freckling his tiny face with mud. The warrior steed was covered in armor, the chestpiece bearing the insignia of the king, a Crimson Raven. The helmeted knight had reined the beast quickly as it came galloping around the corner at full speed. The Warlord had spotted the boy ambling aimlessly, and came within six inches of trampling him as the numerous peasants in the market gasped collectively. The horse shrieked as it's reins were yanked, the bit in it's mouth digging in, spittle shooting out of it's muzzle.

Not recognizing that death had nearly visited him on this day, the youngster giggled, wiped the snot from one nostril, and walked away.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

The Price of Victory

Slowly the druid slid the damaged helmet off of the warrior's head. The left side of the metal headpiece was dented but it had done it's job. The healer was able to get it off with relative ease despite the one side being caved in. Under examination, the large man's head showed off a good size lump and signs of bruising already. He would have to do with using his right eye to see as the left had already begun to close with the swelling. Having the fighter lay back on a table, the druid softly placed a herbal compress on the injured eye. The fighter jolted up quickly, the medicine bag flying off his face.

"What the hell is that?!" he growled. "Smells like shite!"

"Quiet now", the druid replied placing his hand softly on the fighter's shoulder. "You should be praising the gods that your skull isn't cracked and that you won't lose that eyeball. Now lie back and let this medicine do it's work. That is, if you want to get to your next match tomorrow with the ability to see with both eyes."

The warrior slowly laid back and let the druid place the compress back on his face. The healer smiled slightly to himself, controlling his own gag reflex. The concoction did smell pretty awful, but it would do it's job.

He quickly left the room before he lost it.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

Shadow of Harm

There were bats. Lots of 'em. But instead of being repulsed or scared, Emma was fascinated. Of course she was pretty far away from the swarming creatures, but nonetheless she took interest as they flew high above her.

Lost in the Grey Forest, she had seated herself in a small clearing surrounded by the large oak trees that made up for most of the vast woodlands. Within minutes, a multitude of bats flitted high over her head, screeching their tiny little bat screeches. They circled above her like a small blackish tornado, swirling around. But suddenly and without warning they flew off in unison, letting the star filled sky fill her vision as she continued to look upwards.

It was then that the single jeweled necklace she wore began to glow, signaling her of an unknown danger nearby. Her Auntie Montise had given it to her, telling her of the magical powers it held.

"Em. It will ne''er tell ye what approaches, only dat it be evil and out to do no good," she heard her mother's sister tell her, speaking quietly between the four or five brown stained teeth she had left in her mouth.

Looking up again, Emma saw the huge black shadow fly over her in the early night sky. Ducking down and pulling her dark green cape around her, she sat quiet as she could hoping that she had not been spotted.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

The Magic Wand

The tall dark man sat hunched over and still. At times he would fidget and move from one position to the next almost non-stop, like a thousand ants had crawled over him. However at this moment he sat very quietly, his head held in one large hand, his long flowing black hair spilling over his face and covering his features. His other hand was quite busy as his long slender fingers twirled a magic wand that he had been holding for some time now.

"Damn!" he said through clenched teeth, and he slammed the wand on the wooden desk in front of him. Blowing a breath of frustration through his thin lips, he straightened up and sat back staring at the useless wand. Why would anyone think there was any magic in this thing? It was hard to understand yet he himself had seen it working, bringing life from places that had none.

But now, nothing. And no matter how hard he tried he could conjur no response from it.

Rising from the chair that held him, he slowly stretched the entire length of his tired body, filling his stiff joints with relief. Thus was the life of a writer. Sometimes there was magic, and sometimes there was none.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

The Healing Tree

Near the dark brackish water it stood. From a wide, round-shaped crown were low drooping branches hanging down into the lake, seemingly sipping the water and emitting a near silent whisper when the cold wind blew. It's tiny leaves seemed alive, flickering in the sun as they held the early morning dew.

What made it stand out was the size of this tree, nearly eighty feet in height. This was not unheard of but very rare. And the color of it was amazing, or to be more accurate, it's lack of color. It seemed to be made of glass. Interesting too were the leaves that it had shed, which had fallen to the ground and surrounded the mammoth beast. They were black as night yet as shiny as the ones that still gripped it's branches in life, and they were exactly what the wizard had been seeking. For it was these leaves that held precious powers of healing when crushed and brewed into a tea.

Collecting as many as his sack would hold, the healer made his way back to the palace where the king lie on his deathbed. He had suffered a deep wound from a poisoned sword blade while battling the orcs that had stormed the castle days ago. The tea the wizard would brew would surely bring the king back to health but only if he didn't die before the healer returned.

Sunday, May 20, 2012

A Sticky Situation

The tiny stream ran through the underground passage, the echo of it's movement magnifying to a roar as it bounced off the dark stone walls. Rocks poked up here and there above the water, providing a trail of "steps" for the dwarf to use as he made his way forward. The rocks were as much a hindrance as a help as his short legs had to stretch out to reach each one.  The slimy green moss growing on them forced him to slip more than once. It reminded him somewhat of the snotty growth of hair that grew out of troll's nostrils when they reached old age. Nasty to say the least.

Dror Doomcutter was not happy. Not happy at all. Having to walk in the blasted sun for three days was bad enough, but he expected that once he reached the Tunnel of Tombs, being below the surface again would a pleasure. Dwarves were in their element underground, making their homes in large dug out caverns, some so large they held entire cities. But most caverns were dry, even a bit dusty. They were not moist and wet like this one, which had become a breeding ground for lichen and moss. Bleh.

The dwarf had to admit that he had only himself to blame for the discomfort. No one had sent him on this journey, he had come on his own accord. But after hearing that his great great grandfather had been buried here with a magical battleaxe, he had to make the trek. The weapon was once passed down from one generation to the next as a symbol of royal lineage. Since the time of it's disappearance, the dwarf clans were at odds over who ruled their lands. In Dror's mind the time had come for all the infighting to end, and as a direct descendant he took it upon himself to find this symbol of leadership.


Dror had slipped again and this time his right foot went directly under the surface of the stream, filling his boot with icy cold water. His face contorted somewhere between a grimace from the chill and anger that he now had one soaking wet foot. There was nothing left to do but move on so he refocused himself.  Just as he was regaining his footing he felt a soft sensation of being touched on his left arm. Looking at his sleeve he saw what looked like silk covering his sleeve. He touched it with a finger from his right hand and found it to be an extremely sticky substance.

"Phhht" came the sound of something being shot at him, hitting the wall beside him. He had not heard it the first time, but this time it got his attention. Looking up he immediately saw eight glowing, bulbous eyes peering down at him with a mouth that held two razor sharp pincers directly below them. He quickly pulled his mace from his side and raised his shield. This was no ordinary house spider he was facing but the largest arachnid he had ever seen.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Thank you to Angeline Trevena for this fantastic award. It is great to be acknowledged. Here I need to answer the next 10 questions and then add 10 random things about myself. 

What is your favourite song?
This one os difficult since I have 1500 vinyl records, 500 cds, and five albums of my own recordings to choose from and that still leaves out so much I don't have. Let me just say depending on my mood I have a different song I wish to hear.

What is your favourite dessert?
I don't eat dessert. BUT... I eat a pint of ice cream every night. Over 20 years ago it replaced the fifth of hard liquor I was drinking every night. Peanut butter and chocolate flavors and any that have lotsa "stuff" in them are faves.

What ticks you off?
People's attitudes of entitlement.

When you're upset what do you do?
I tend to become very quiet. I look at myself and see how I might have contributed to whatever it is that has me pissed off.

Which is/was your favourite pet?
I had a 100 pound with no fat, tough as nails, Golden Retriever named Reebok Hitops who went through the darkest days of my addiction with me through my first years of recovery. He was my strength at times. He was special and I knew I could never get another Golden for fear I would compare and none could live up to him. When I lost him I went into an entirely different direction and got a Rottweiler named "Breaking the Silence". The house was so quiet without Reebok and "Break" had a huge responsibility to fill the hole in my heart. He has done just that. Now 12 years old, his days with me are winding down. I couldn't choose between those two and I'm glad I don't have to...

Which do you prefer black or white?
Black I guess.

What is your biggest fear?
I have none. Jesus Christ died for me and I am saved no matter what happens. I'm good.

What is your attitude mostly?
I'm very laid back, but still have an athlete's intensity inside.

What is perfection?
To do your personal best each day. Sometimes one day may be better than another but if you do your best, well it's still your best. Can't ask for more now can you?

What is your guilty pleasure?
Clothes, shoes, watches, guitars, too many!

 10 random things about myself:
1. I am 6'5" tall.
2. I was the shortest guy on the last basketball team I played on.
3. I have written and recorded five independent albums worth of songs and sold about 500 units of each.
4. I got my first tattoo at age 45.
5. I am in an inter-racial relationship with a wonderful woman.
6. Woman came with an awesome daughter.
7. Although I played college and semi-pro basketball, I don't watch it. Only NFL football.
8. I have done volunteer family counseling at a local church every week for 5 years.
9. I enjoy cooking and worked for a caterer for a number of years.
10. If I could live anywhere in the world I would choose Sydney, Australia.