Awesomeness

It smelled like a musty old storage space where too many people had left too many things that had been forgotten about and were now accumulating dust and becoming home to numerous spiders.
Ancient chairs were thrown into huge piles, mangled together. Huge chest were stacked one on top of the other. All of it mixing together in a cluttered mess that had been made into a nearly daunting maze.
As I wandered through the thin isles, I did so cautiously, trying to distance myself from the dusty furniture. I could imagine dusty old hands reaching out from the mangled cupboards, gripping my arms as I tried to pass.
It was creepy in all it's awesomeness.

Comfortable

She looked good, happy, and cute in her thin, silky, black and white polka-dot dress. She smiled and held her arms out. We hugged. Her hair was short and curly. A young man sat next to her, he was quite a contrast next to her tan skin and dark hair.
He smiled, but was quiet.
As she talked I noticed the simple silver ring on her hand that included a little glinting diamond.
They fit well together and she looked comfortable as she held his leg and leaned forward to talk to me.
I marveled over how fast things had changed.
I've always envied her.

5/18/07

"Though season change, and time goes on,
My love for you, is eternally long.
Yes, trials and change can wear on us,
But never forget that in me you can trust.
I'll hold you close, and dry your
Tears till the end,
I love you Adria, my dearest
friend."

Intoduction - Lion Heart

Last school year I had to write a research paper for my creative writing class (most of the things I post here are from that class. I'm taking it again this year.) I wrote it on Lion Heart. But I didn't really like what I had come up with, so I wrote something totally new, last minute, and turned it in instead.
My Lion Heart stuff disappeared for a while, but today, I unearthed it and decided to post some of it here.

Background

This multi-genre research paper is on King Richard, Lion Heart. I knew little of him when I began the paper. I only knew of his death, and that’s what interested me. Such a supposedly great man had died in such a…. Undignified manner. At least that’s how it seems to be.
He was born, as far as we know on September 8 in 1157 in Oxford. His father was Henry 11, King of England and his mother was Eleanor of Aquitaine. He was known as the King, or Richard, the Lionheart. He had four brothers and three sisters. But he was thought to be his mothers’ favorite son.
In 1174, along with his brothers, he revolted against his father. In 1179 he conquered the fortress of Taillebourg. In 1179 his brother Henry the Young King died, leaving Richard as the eldest son. In 1188, with the help of King Philip of France he took over much of his fathers land and his father died soon after. Richard was crown king a few months later in September. He left for the Crusades in the summer of 1190 and was married in 1911 to Berengaria. He was taken prisoner in 1191 and remained so until 1194. He was hit by a young, revenge seeking bowman, a shot that later led to infection and killing him. He died April 6, 1199.

He was called Lion Heart, and he fit the name. He was a tall, large man, wide broad shoulders. He had strong, muscular arms and legs that looked as though they could crush a man easily. His skin was pale. His eyes were light too, yet serious looking. His hair was shiny, a light red color. He had a serious face and he often looked angry. He looked powerful and it was obvious. We all felt compelled to do as he wished.

(Poem by Richard ~ 1179)

Ones heart pounded fiercely
And blood could be felt as it pulsed through ones veins.
The air was fresh and cool.
Charente Valley was in full bloom.
Its three surrounding cliffs were steep, but looked a welcoming challenge that I ached for.
The fortress of Taillebourg had been thought to be impregnable,
But we proved that wrong.
The battle was mid-way through.
We were close to breaking through completely.
And they knew it too.
Men came pouring out of the castle.
Stampeding towards us.
Weapons and armor shining.
Their eyes were wide.
I could smell it. They feared me.

Death of a Brother (Poem by Richard ~ June 1183)

It had been a brutal battle.
Aquitaine had been invaded quickly,
but we were strong.
The man was stabbed, despite his strong fighting.
I watched as he slid, falling down to the ground.
Blood seeped out of his armor.

Henry, the Young King was dead.
My brother was dead.

And now I stood as my fathers living, eldest son.
And now heir to the English crown.

(Journal entry of Richard ~ July 1189)

My father is now dead. Many are saying I caused it. And that may be partially a truth. We fought a good battle. Anjou, my father’s center of power, was conquered easily. My father met us and agreed to all we said. He died two days later. He was ill, and very weak.
Now I am to be crowned soon. King of England.

The man watched high at his usual place. Arrow drawn, ready as it was to always be. The large man came into view. He began to applaud when the arrow was turned towards him. The poor young bowman could feel the string slipping in his nervous hands.
An arrow pieced the cold sharp air and hit the expecting man in the shoulder.
But it was not his arrow.
Lion Heart attempted to pull out the arrow himself, but failed. It was removed, but poorly. He later, found and called upon the young man whose arrow had pierced him.
The mighty king watched as the thin, youthful boy gave his story. The boy said the King had killed his father and brothers and wanted revenge. The boy knew he was now to die.
But to his surprise, the king, out of mercy, chose not to execute him, and forgave the boy, saying, “Live on, and by my bounty behold the light of day.”
The boy was then sent away with one hundred shillings.

Lion Heart

He was a great man.
He was widely known and widely feared.
He was strong,
courageous,
wise,
a great leader,
merciful,
and yet brutal.
He ruled and conquered much.
He was Lion Heart.

Merry Nameless Tune

He use to whistle.
A lot.
Loudly.
But well.
He doesn't anymore.
Instead,
He's quiet.
I don't remember the last time
I heard his merry nameless tune.
I miss it.
A lot.

It Stopped

My white fingers gripped the side of the bed. Thin and shaking. Frail and fragile. Each aching, raspy breath was slow and uneasy, coming in short gasps. My brain throbbed as I recounted the harsh and careless words burned in. I wanted to scream in pain, but my extreme lack of normal amounts of energy, and dry, itchy throat wouldn’t allow it. Every inch of me was drained of energy and ached. I could only barely feel my heart dully thump inside of me. It did so slowly, barely enough to get blood to all ends of me. But it was slowing. I could feel it. Its reach growing less, and less.
Until finally,
It stopped.

The Dream

It was cold. Goose bumps covered my skin. I wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to retain heat. I wandered through the thick trees, eyes scanning.
I couldn't see very far. It was dark and gloomy. The thick gray fog only added to it.
Finally, to my relief, i broke through the thick forest and stepped quietly onto a thin dirt road. Still, I couldn't see far. The road went straight, cutting through the trees, disappearing into the tick gray fog that hung close to the ground.
I wrapped my long cloak around me more tightly and sat down in the road. I felt over dressed in such a place in my long, elegant dress and cloak.
I sat waiting, swallowed in the eerie silence and cold.
He said he'd come. Come and save me.
So I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
But he never came.

-----

There are so many ways to describe it.
It's painful,
And extremely uncomfortable.
It feels like some ones pressing against my chest.
Like my ribs are holding too much weight and about to collapse.
Like I'm going deeper into water and my body can't handle the pressure.
Always wishing to be released.

Pointless Wishing?

"Pull out a lash and blow it."
-The Middle Man

I carefully removed the misplaced eyelash from my eyeball and examined it, blinking to refocus. Can I still wish on it if it's been in my eye? Or the fact that it's been there shadow some sort of bad luck?
I took the risk and blew; the third of the day.