Targy: Tale of the Great Bunny Star
by Jonas Hyde

Entertains ages 3-12
 

CHAPTER ONE

Deep in the quiet Forest of Treehoth, over the River of Oxyl, and past the Lake of the Rising Sun, hid the Secret Woods of Junto.  These weren’t just any old secret woods that were hidden past the Lake of the Rising Sun, over the River of Oxyl, and deep in the Forest of Treehoth.  These secret woods just happened to be the home of the one and only Targy the Great Bunny Star.

      Many a story has been written about Targy the Great Bunny Star, but none more important than the story I am about to tell you here.  Sure, Targy’s journey into the Heart of Wonders, or the time she discovered the Miniature Mice of Middleclouds, are both great stories.  However this story, the story of how Targy the Great Bunny Star got her special name (not Targy – her parent’s named her that silly), but the Great Bunny Star, is what this story is all about.

      So sit back, relax, and listen, because Targy’s tale is one of fantastic adventure, fanciful fairies, and plain old funny fun!

      It all started when Targy turned 10 (that’s the Coming of Age age for rabbits), and she left the Forest of Treehoth for the first time ever.  She didn’t plan on leaving the forest.  As with all things that ever happened to Targy, she just kind of found herself in that situation. 

      Her entire life, up until this point at least, Targy didn’t have many responsibilities.  Of course she had to clean her room, do dishes, and sometimes even help her parents in the yard, but besides those chores, she was free to do what she wanted. 

      Some parts of the year Targy went to school with all of her friends, but that hardly seemed like a chore.  She LOVED school!  But when Targy turned 10, it was during the summer months, when school was already done for the last year and had not yet started for the next.  It was during these months that Targy usually found herself in the most precarious of situations.

      The Coming of Age time is a really, really special time for rabbits in the Forest of Treehoth.  It’s when they get a special title.  For some, like Bruno the Boring Bunny, the names are not so cool.   For others, such as Sara the Silly Sweet Bunny, it’s way neat.  Well Targy had high hopes for her name, like Targy the Totally Awesome Bunny, which would be way more awesome than Targy the Perpetually Grounded Bunny. 

      Either way, she was excited that it was finally time for her Coming of Age ceremony, which usually involved a big party and some crazy hocus pocus.  But as with everything in Targy’s life, her ceremony did not exactly go as planned. 

      The short part of this story is telling you how the Coming of Age party was supposed to go.  Just like for all the other bunnies, everyone in town would get together as the sun went down.  The bunny would approach the town elders, (those were all the old bunnies that lived in the area, who by that age preferred to be called rabbits), and they would give the bunny a nickname. 

      Usually, the name would come from how the bunny had acted during their lives (which was really just another way to get the bunnies to behave while growing up, because really, no one wanted to be called Susie the Terrible Tyrant Bunny).  Afterwards there would be a huge party, and this was really the best part, because all the bunnies would get to stay up late, play, and eat crazy candies, cakes, and cookies.  I mean, right, what a great time! 

      But sometimes, and this was very rare, something would happen to the bunny that would help them earn a name… a name the town elders did not pick themselves.  Bunnies such as Thomas the Town Builder Bunny and Julie the Beautiful Bunny Bunny got their names for obvious reasons, but trust me, there is a story to be told there as well.  This, my friend, is where Targy’s story really started. 

      Those who knew Targy should not have been surprised at the events that happened.  Nothing ever really seemed to go as planned where Targy was concerned, and her Coming of Age time was no different.  But then again, that’s what made Targy… well, Targy!

Chapter Two

      It all started on the Eve, which was not to be confused with Birthday Eve or Christmas Eve, but rather, the Eve of the Coming of Age.  Although, this would have been a mouthful to say over and over again, so instead, was simply called the Eve.  Trust me on this though, if you ever are vacationing in the Secret Woods of Junto, and just happen to mention the Eve, every bunny will know exactly what you are talking about.

      So in the morning, which some may say is contrary to its name but was when the Eve actually took place, just after the sun started to shine and the fresh dew began to glisten on the trees, Targy heard a knock on her window. 

      What, does that surprise you?  Not all rabbits live in rabbit holes you know.  Some, like those who lived in the Secret Woods of Junto, had their own homes.  Most were even lined with their own carrot gardens.  Because what they say is true, rabbits really do love their carrots.  Besides, Targy would never be caught living in some dirty old rabbit hole! 

      So, back to the knock, because I’m sure you are curious as to who it is.  But don’t worry; there is no need to be scared.  Targy sure wasn’t!  The knock was a familiar knock to her, and belonged to her most bestest friend in the world, Lilly. 

      Even though so far I have only told you about Targy, anyone who knew Targy, or even had heard stories of her, knew of Lilly as well.  The two were like peas in a pod.  But instead of being small, round, and green, one was a bunny and the other a squirrel.  So sure, maybe they did not look alike, but boy they sure did act alike.  They might as well have been sisters! 

      Everywhere that Targy went, Lilly was sure to go, and everywhere Lilly went, Targy would follow.  So on the rare occasion when they went in different directions… well, you can see what the problem would be!  Luckily, such things did not happen often.

      Excited to see her friend, Targy opened the window and Lilly came jumping in with a big smile on her pretty little face!  Compared to Targy, Lilly was a little one.  Sure, most squirrels are smaller than rabbits anyways, but you would never really notice it until you saw a squirrel and a bunny, ears and all, standing side by side.  But what Lilly lacked in size, she made up for in spunk.  Besides, she had proven time and time again that anything Targy could do, she could do too.  

      Like the time they raced to the River of Oxyl and back.  We’ve all heard the story of the tortoise and the hare, but that hare would have been no match for this squirrel!  And when it came to hops, some in the Forest of Treehoth swore Lilly was a flying squirrel… that’s just how awesome she was. 

      “So Targy, today’s the day.  Are you excited?  Huh, are ya?  Are ya?” Lilly asked, circling her friend with enthusiasm.

      Laughing out loud Targy replied, “Of course I am Silly Lilly.  I’ve been waiting for today my whole, entire life.”

      “Any idea what name the elder rabbits are gonna give ya?”

      “Well, the newest idea I came up with last night was Targy the Magnificent Bunny.  But then I thought I would sound too much like a magician.  And I don’t know any magic tricks, so that could end up a bit embarrassing, or at the very least, awfully confusing.  But it doesn’t matter anyway.  Can you believe none of the elders have asked for any of my ideas?”

      “You know, I don’t think that’s exactly how it’s supposed to work Targ,” Lilly said with a smile as she gave her friend a big hug.  “So, what do you want to do today?”

      “I don’t know, it’s such a loooooong time until the ceremony.  Wanna go for a hike?  I hear the rainbow orchids have gotten their color, and those are always so pretty.  We can get some for our hair.  I think it would look great for tonight.”

      “Um, didn’t your mom tell you to stick around town today?”

      “I think she meant stick around later on so I wouldn’t be late.  But if we go early, we’ll be back early.  I’m sure that’s what she really meant.”

      “Hmmm,” Lilly thought to herself as she weighed the idea before responding, “Sounds like a great plan to me.  Let’s go!”

      With those fateful words is where the long part of our story begins.  Because you see, as I mentioned earlier, nothing ever seemed to go as planned for Targy, which is the exact reason her mom suggested she stay nearby on this special day in the first place. 

      No matter their good intentions, Targy and Lilly were masters at finding themselves in sticky situations.  Such as the time they went on a hike and ended up in the Sticky Stickwaters of Sticksdale…  now that was really a sticky situation for sure.  At least you could be sure they wouldn’t end up there again!  If we ever get the time, that will definitely have to be another story I share with you.

 Chapter Three

       The two friends set out, with plan in mind to visit the rainbow orchids and be back before lunch.  The girls both decided not to let anyone know, especially Targy’s mom, that they were going in the first place.  They did not want to start a fuss.  Besides, they really, really wanted to surprise everyone with some beautiful flowers for the ceremony tonight, and there were no prettier flowers anywhere in the Forest of Treehoth than the rainbow orchids.

      With the morning sun still fresh in the sky, Targy and Lilly began their journey.  For them it seemed simple enough, but for you and me, it’s what this story is really all about.

      The trek to the rainbow orchids was an easy one, and was a trip the two friends had made often in the past.  All they had to do was go through the woods, over a hill, and around a bend.   Sure, that might not sound helpful as far as directions go, but if you ever get the chance to see the hill or walk around the bend, you would know exactly what I mean.

      Once there, a short walk down and across Cricket Creek would get you to the outskirts of the rainbow orchids, which at first glance would not seem impressive at all.  In fact, you might not even know you were there unless you had been there before, because the orchids on the outer ends were all green and brown like the surrounding trees. 

      It worked out well though, because the random visitor would likely pass the nestled field without even a second glance.   But for the locals in the area, they all knew that the deeper they went, the more amazing the field became.

      Now some may think the rainbow orchids were given their name because of all the different colors of the orchids.  Shades of blue, pink, purple, yellow, orange and more, the flowers were all so beautiful.  But it’s how these orchids got their color, which is the best part of this part of the story, and is the real reason they have the name that they do.

      You see, a loooong time ago, a leprechaun named Larry (though he preferred to be called Lawrence) was visiting the Forest of Treehoth.  Now you may not believe in leprechauns, or fairies, or unicorns or the like, but I can tell you for sure, that in these parts, such things are as real as you and I. 

      Anywho, Larry…. sorry, I mean Lawrence, was about to retire, which meant he was turning his leprechauning duties over to the younger leprechauns.  Before he could though, he had to find a place to hide his life’s earnings… his pot o’ gold. 

      Well, you’ve probably heard how such leprechauns hide their gold at the end of a rainbow, and Lawrence’s pot of gold was no different.  But don’t get your hopes up too much, there was no pot of gold here at the rainbow orchids. 

      No, instead, this is where Lawrence’s rainbow started (and where it ended is a whole other adventure, and another story, of its own)!  So if you ever see a field of all different colored orchids, chances are a leprechaun has already been to that very place. 

      So it was Larry, um, Lawrence the Leprechaun’s magic rainbow that turned the drab and ordinary orchids into the amazing wonder that became the rainbow orchids Targy and Lilly were visiting on this day, and that’s how this particular field of orchids got their name. 

      It took almost an hour for the girls to make the half hour trip to the rainbow orchids, mainly because of the detours they took along the way.  For Targy and Lilly, the shortest distance between two points may have been a straight line, but that would hardly be any fun.  So they stopped here and there, and there and here along the way, laughing and playing the entire time.  But when they finally arrived, the inspiring beauty of the field brought a warm and fuzzy feeling to their insides and a smile to their faces.  Even though they had both been to the field many times before, the radiance of the rainbow orchids never got old, and made every visit feel like the first.

Chapter Four

      “Oh wow, Targ,” Lilly exclaimed as she ran deep into the center of the orchids, “these are all so beautiful!”

      “I know, right.  It never gets old.  They are as gorgeous as the first time I saw them,” Targy replied as she followed close behind her friend.

      Darting left, right, and around in circles, the girls scampered about the field, taking a second here and a moment there to stop and smell the orchids.  Every color of the rainbow, and even some colors that aren’t part of a rainbow but really should be, glistened from the petals of the flowers.  The deeper they went into the field, the more vibrant the colors became.

      “So Lilly, what do you think about these?” Targy asked as she gently pulled up a deep purplish-blue flower.  On it were tiny white spots shaped like hearts.  She then placed it into the small fluff of hair that was set between her ears. 

      “Wow, that is way pretty Targ,” Lilly responded as she scuttled over toward her friend.  Then tugging on a soft pink orchid herself, she held it up and added, “What do you think of this?   I bet your mom would love it!”

      But to Lilly’s surprise, Targy never responded.  Instead, she just stood there, with her ears pointing straight up to the sky and her eyes as wild and bright as the midday sun.  The look on her face said it all, telling Lilly to turn around and share in the wonder.  So she did, and upon doing so, gave witness to the most beautiful sight the two girls had ever seen up until this point in their lives (and ended up being one of the top five most beautiful and awe-inspiring moments of their entire lives!)

      Deeper into the meadow of flowers, in what was actually the very center of the field, rested a small patch of the most vibrant and stunning orchids in the entire world.  It was a patch the girls had never, ever, seen here before. 

      Whereas every other flower in the field was this color or that, and maybe sometimes even made more special by a pretty pattern, these flowers, the orchids that were in the center of the field, beat them all.  They were mixed and matched, and wonderfully beautiful. 

      In the center of all these amazing flowers, stood out one in particular.  It was a blossom unlike any other.  This orchid looked as if it were painted by a rainbow itself, stripped with a slew of awesome colors that each seemed to shimmer and glow as if a real rainbow rested on its petals.

      “Wow,” was all Targy could muster as she made her way to the flower.  With each step she took, her eyes got bigger and bigger, her gaze fixated upon it.  Trust me, the Easter Bunny (who was like a distant eighty-third half cousin to Targy’s mom’s second most bestest friend) could have walked by with a basket of really smelly eggs and Targy would not have even noticed.  “Now that is a flower I’ve got to have,” she added, “it would be perfect for tonight.” 

      So she bent down and placed her hands on the thick green stem and was just about to pull when she heard a soft voice call out, “No, please don’t do that!”

      “Why not, Lilly?” Targy asked as she stopped and turned around.

      “Why not what?” Lilly replied as she moved in closer to get a better look at the flower for herself.

      “Why did you tell me to stop?”

      Shrugging her shoulders Lilly responded, “I didn’t say anything.”  With that, she leaned over to grab the flower herself when yet another voice yelled out even louder this time, “She asked you nicely not to do that… hello?!?”

      Lilly jumped back and turned to Targy, but the bunny just shook her head in disbelief.  The girls then looked at each other in wonderment before Lilly finally got up the courage to ask out, “Um… is anyone there?”

      “Of course we are here,” the second voice responded, seemingly coming from the orchids themselves.  “Who did you think was talking to you, the flowers?”

      By this time, the surprise in Targy had long given way to curiosity, so stepping forward and leaning in a bit closer she replied, “So, you uh, aren’t the flowers?”

      “Of course not, silly.  Talking flowers aren’t real,” the first voice chimed in again.

      Standing ever so close now to her friend, and with her eyes squinted and focused trying to make sense of what was going on, Lilly asked, “Then who are you…?”

      “And where are you…?” Targy added.

      Just then, from the center of the centermost rainbow colored orchid nestled deep and hidden here in the field, floated up two of the most beautiful, though very most smallest, creatures the girls had ever seen.  As their eyes about popped out of their heads, and as their jaws dropped to the ground, the best friends asked in unison as their voices trembled with caution and amazement, “… and what are you?!?”

Chapter Five

      “We are butterfly fairies,” the smaller of the two creatures responded first.        

      “You mean you’ve never seen a butterfly fairy before?” the slightly larger one added.

      “Um… no,” Targy responded.  “I’ve never even heard of a butterfly fairy before.”

      “Well, we are as real as you two,” the larger fairy replied.  “My name is Raine and this here is my little sister, Poe.”

      Now I don’t know what you know about fairies, or butterflies for that matter, but when you combine the two you get the perfect combination of beauty, smarts, and sass.   And where these two were concerned, they had ample amounts of all three things!

      To their own kind, each butterfly fairy looks unique and special, but to most everyone else, they all have a tendency to look alike.  But, even with the confusion, telling the difference between these two fairies was actually pretty simple. 

      You see, butterfly fairies never, ever, cut their hair, because that is where their magic is stored.  The longer the hair, the more powerful the magic in the fairy.  So Raine, being the older and slightly more experienced fairy, had the longer hair.  Poe, being a few years younger, was still growing hers out.  So there you go, a quick lesson on butterfly fairies should you ever come across a couple.  Which regardless of what people say, is very likely to happen at least once in your life.

      “Well it’s nice to meet you,” Targy finally said back after getting over the initial shock of meeting these fanciful new creatures.

      “And you as well,” Poe responded before Raine jumped in.  “Now if you would be so kind as to not pick this flower, we would really appreciate it.  It is not very appropriate of you ya know.”

      “Why, what’s so special about this flower?”

      “You mean besides the obvious?” Raine countered.

      As a result of those coarse words, Targy’s face turned from one of wonder and excitement to sudden sadness.  “I’m sorry, have we offended you in some way?”

      Seeing this, Raine flew up close and stopped right before Targy’s eyes.  This caused the cautious bunny to take a small step back (which actually put a large distance between the two given the fairy’s small stature).  Raine then bowed gracefully at the hips and responded, “No, I’m the one who is sorry.  I’ve been rude…”

      “It’s just a really special flower,” Poe interjected as she came to the defense of her sister.

      “That it is,” Raine finished.  “It’s our only way home.”

      In surprise, Lilly jumped in and asked, “Your home… it’s in that flower?”

      “Well, not in the flower itself exactly,” Raine responded.

      “But the doorway to our home is in the flower,” Poe added.  “And if you pull the flower, you’ll break the doorway and we will never get back!”

      “Oh wow, we are soooo sorry,” Targy replied.  “We almost really ruined things for you two.  So why are you here in the first place?  Are you picking flowers to bring back home with you?”

      “I wish,” Poe whispered under her breath to the point the girls could barely make out what she was saying.

      “Um, not exactly,” Raine then said a bit louder.

      “Why not?  What’s wrong?”

      “A whole lot.  We didn’t even plan to come here.  We just kind of ended up here as we were running away.”

      “Running away?  Why?  What happened?  Running away is never a good answer for problems,” Targy said.

      “No, it’s not like that… we didn’t want to go, but our parents told us to run.”

      “They did?  Why, what happened?” Lilly asked, now with concern in her voice.

      “Our land was attacked by the evil dream wizard, Cyrus,” Raine replied.

      “Who is that?” Targy questioned.

      “He is a wizard who lives in a castle up on Mount Vermin.  No one ever really paid much attention to him before because his power only came in the darkness of night when everyone was asleep.  But it never got dark in our home because of our fairy magic.  Except then magical creatures started disappearing from all over Magicalli, which is our homeland.  It seemed he had been stealing their magic to make his own magic more powerful, and eventually he was able to make everything go dark.  And that’s when the trouble really started for us,” Raine answered.

 Chapter Six

      “Oh no, that is so terrible!” Targy gasped.

      “And that’s not the worst part,” Poe said before Raine continued on.  “Yeah, Cyrus went and captured all of the fairies from our home.  And now he is stealing all their magic too by taking their hair.  Then he is going to keep them in his dungeon and every time their hair grows back, he is going to cut it again.  Eventually he is going to be too powerful for anyone to stop.  We barely escaped.”

      “He is a really bad man,” Poe then added in quickly.  “But Raine saved my life.  I was really afraid, but she told me to be brave and just keep going.  So we did.  And I never looked back, not once… but I was so scared.  Next thing you know, Raine opened up the petal portal and here we were.”

      “Cyrus didn’t follow you, did he?” Lilly asked as she then started looking around a bit frightened.

      “No… not yet at least,” Raine answered.  “He isn’t powerful enough yet to cross over into this land.  But believe me, once he gets enough fairy magic, nothing will be able to stop him.  We were just letting some time pass by so we could rest up before we went back to try and save our family and friends.  Otherwise they will be his prisoners forever.”

      “But I don’t think we can do it alone,” Poe chimed in.

      Raine gave her sister a soft nudge before she replied, “Shhh… don’t say that Poe.  We are the only ones left that can help them!  We have to go back.”

      Just then, the sadness of their plight touched Targy’s heart.  She could not even imagine what it would be like if her family and friends were all captured.  So with that overcoming any fear she had, Targy said, “Don’t worry girls.  We will help you.”

      “We will?” Lilly quickly asked in surprise.

      “Sure Lilly.  What if it were your mom and dad?  Or me even?  Wouldn’t you need help?  This Cyrus guy sounds like a really bad man, and it sounds like only a matter of time before he comes here.  Then it just may be our parents who get captured next.  We can’t let that happen!  Besides, I bet Poe and Raine here would do the same for us.”

      “Yes, yes, of course we would,” Poe said excitedly. 

      “Are you sure about this?” Raine then asked.

      “Yeah, are we sure about this?” Lilly added as everyone looked at Targy.

      “Of course I’m sure.  But if you don’t want to go Lilly, you don’t have to.”

      “Yeah, we’ll understand,” the two butterfly fairies said together.

      It took only a second for Lilly to decide.  Not only did the butterfly fairies need her help, but Targy was right.  What would happen if Cyrus got enough of the fairy hair to take over the Secret Woods of Junto… or even worse, all of the Forest of Treehoth?  She couldn’t let that happen.  Besides, she wasn’t about to let Targy go on this adventure by herself.  She just met two butterfly fairies… there is no telling what would happen next!  “I’m in,” Lilly finally responded with excitement.  “Adventure… excitement…. a squirrel craves these things!”

      With that, the larger of the two small fairies fluttered her heart shaped wings and circled the really special rainbow orchid.  When she did, it started to shimmer and shake, and from its center a brilliant light began to shine. 

      The girls watched in silence for a moment as Poe shouted out loud before jumping in, “Come on you two, follow me!”

      Targy and Lilly looked at each other, and then glanced over at Raine.  The remaining fairy simply smiled though and urged them on.  Targy then shrugged her shoulders and throwing caution to the wind, pounced upon the flower.  But instead of smashing it, she simply disappeared into it.

      “Wow,” Lilly whispered as she watched her friend leave the Forest of Treehoth for the first time ever.

      “Your turn,” Raine then urged.

      With that, Lilly did one of her most superest jumps ever (so far at least) and leaped right into the center of the flower.  After a quick second, she was gone too. 

      Next, following the girls, Raine entered the center of the flower and the petal portal closed behind her.  As it did, all that was left behind in the beautiful field of rainbow orchids was a still silence.

 Chapter Seven

       The trip to Magicalli (which is the special land beyond our land that all magical creatures come from) was not as scary as you may think.  In fact, that’s exactly what Targy and Lilly have said about the trip each time they’ve retold this very story I’m telling you.  

      The oddest part of the journey was the spinning in total darkness and the whirly twirly feeling inside their stomachs (which ended up being the inspiration for the Whirly Twirly ride at the annual Treehoth Festival as a matter of fact).

      But once on the other side, what they found just about left the girls speechless (which is kind of wacky since it hardly was any more uncommon than meeting talking fairies or taking a ride through a petal portal in the first place).

      Anywho, what Targy and Lilly found in Magicalli was not exactly what they were expecting.  The petal portal had put them right smack in the middle of Monarchia, village of the butterfly fairies.  What one would expect if they were to imagine such a place would probably be an area of brightness and beauty.  But this was hardly what they were welcomed with.  Instead, everything was dark and gloomy, and really, really wet, as if it were always raining (even though there wasn’t a rain cloud in the sky).  It was just that dreary.

      “Um, you live here?” Lilly asked as she looked around.

      “It wasn’t always like this,” Raine responded. 

      “Yeah,” Poe added.  “It used to be really pretty.  But ever since Cyrus started working his dark magics, our home has really suffered.”

      “That is so sad,” Targy whispered soft as she rubbed her cold shoulders.  “But don’t worry girls.  We will get this place fixed right up.”

      “Well, if we can save the other fairies, the magic can be restored to our home and Monarchia will be beautiful once more,” Raine said.  “But it’s going to be dark soon…”

      “You mean it’s going to get darker than this?” Lilly questioned.

      “Much darker I’m afraid,” Poe finished.  “That’s why we need to get moving.”

      So for the next hour, the four girls embarked on their journey.  In the beginning, not one of them had much to say.  There was no dancing, or playing, or anything of that sort.  With every step (or hop, or flutter) they took in fact, more and more of the happy spirits that made these girls special seemed to disappear.

      Sensing this was another effect of the dark wizard’s spells, Targy knew she had to keep everyone’s spirits up.  Otherwise, they would have no energy left.  After all, I don’t know if you knew this, but it is impossible to defeat evil dream wizards if you don’t have any happy energy. 

      So with that thought in mind, Targy began to sing, softly at first, “What do you get…”

      Looking around, no one seemed to respond, so Targy continued with her song, “What do you get when you mix insects with your clothes?”

      All the girls now just seemed to look at her with somewhat serious looks on their faces as Targy persisted with a smile on her own, “Ants in your pants.  And what do you get when you mix…”

      Just then, Lilly chimed in, “Pasta with a ghost?”

      Smiling huge now, Targy responded in tune, “Spookhetti…”

      Then the two best friends continued on, singing together now, “And what do you get when you mix a pig with your laundry?”

      Feeling the happiness coming from the Targy and Lilly seemed to energize the two fairies, causing them to join in now as well, “Hogwash!”

      With that, all the girls were now giggling and singing together, hopping and dancing their way down the trail.  And for anyone who took notice, they would have seen a soft glow left on the path behind the traveling adventurers. 

      By now, they were all singing loudly, twirling about, “And what do you get when you mix a bear with a snowstorm?”

      The girls all came together in a big hug and screamed out at the top of their lungs, “A teddy brrrrr!”

      With that, they all fell to the ground laughing hysterically.  The gloomy night seemed to brighten up just a bit.  But it was only a momentary respite, because it was then when Raine quickly fluttered up and pointed out across the way, uttering softly, “Um… girls, we’re here.”

Chapter Eight

      Off in the distance rested a huge castle.  In fact it was so big, it seemed closer than it actually was.  It was really tall, and had four pointy towers coming up from the outer walls.  Any more detail than that was difficult to see from where the girls were, because of the darkness surrounding the castle. 

      Sure it was gloomy from where Targy and her friends were standing, but over the castle was a thick dark cloud, which instead of rain showers, let loose rays of dark shadows.

      “We need to go there?” Lilly whispered.  “Um, I’m not so sure about this…”

      “C’mon, Lilly.  It’s ok to be scared.  Just remember why we are here.  They need our help,” Targy replied.  “But how are we going to get in?  That’s an awfully big castle.”

      “We won’t be going in the front door, that’s for sure,” Raine said as she took off down the hill.  “Now follow me!”

      Still a bit afraid, Lilly asked, “Follow you where?”

      “There is a secret entrance.  Getting in won’t be hard at all,” Poe answered as she fluttered off after her sister.

      Lilly looked at Targy, and in her friend’s eyes got all the reassurance she needed.  “We can do this,” Targy said softly, “… together!”

      Now, I’ve got to tell you.  Most people I’ve told this story too have felt a lot like Lilly (just a wee bit scared) even listening to it.  But as with most things, sticking by your friends usually turns out pretty good, and this time would be no different.  So like Targy, don’t give up hope yet!

      It took only a few minutes, in fairy time that is, for the girls to get to the castle’s secret entrance.  The singing had stopped, but there was definitely a different feeling within the group.  The two butterfly fairies were excited to be seeing their family and friends soon, while Targy and Lilly were staying focused on the task at hand. 

      Besides, something inside of them felt different, something they could not explain.  The only thing they could tell for sure was that it was not a bad emotion inside of them.  No, instead it felt like something much better, much stronger.  It was as if a good surprise was coming, but they just could not tell what yet.

      “Are you doing ok?” Poe asked, seeing the odd looks on the girls’ faces.

      “Yeah,” Targy responded.  “My stomach feels a bit weird though.  But it’s not like a scared or nervous weird.  It’s just a weird, weird.”

      “That’s probably the magic,” Raine replied.

      This made Lilly perk her ears as she asked, “Magic?”

      “Yeah, the magic of Magicalli,” Raine continued.  “Everything in Magicalli has magic inside of them.  That’s how horses became unicorns, how trees can talk, and how butterflies become, well…”

      “Butterfly fairies!” Poe then chimed in excitedly.

      Smiling at her sister, Raine added, “Yes, butterfly fairies.  And you two girls are no different.  It’s probably the magic growing inside of you.”

      “You mean we have magical powers?” asked Lilly, now feeling much braver about the situation.

      “Of course you do,” said Raine.  “Like I said, everyone has magic inside of them.  Magicalli just brings it out and makes it stronger.  For example, even the courage you’ve shown so far is like a magical power.”

      “Well shoot, I hope that’s not my only power…”

      “Don’t worry, it isn’t.  That feeling in your stomach right now is Magicalli working its magic on you!”

      Curious now herself, Targy asked, “So what kind of power will we get?”

      “That’s a mystery to me.  For creatures like you, it’s different in everyone.  Only time will tell.”

      “How much time?” Lilly questioned next.

      “I wish I could tell you.  But you’ll know when it’s time.  Trust me.  Now we better get going.  Quick, through here.”

      Looking around, Targy did not see anything, so she asked, “Through where?  I don’t see anything but an empty field.”

      “Just wait for it,” whispered Poe. 

      With those words, Raine closed her eyes and spun quickly, causing her long, dark hair to whisk around.  After a second or two, bright slivers of magic started to fall upon the ground, kind of like really brilliant snowflakes.  A second or two after that, the girls finally saw what was happening.

      On the ground where the fairy dust was landing, the grass and dirt began to disappear.  It took only a few breaths (of which due to the excitement, the girls had to make a serious effort to remember to take), before the ground completely gave way, and all that was left was a staircase going into the earth. 

      But it was not some dark and eerie staircase as one might expect.  No, since this staircase was made by fresh and new fairy magic, it was as all things fairy would be, beautiful and bright.  So, compared to the rest of the drab world, it actually looked pretty inviting.

      After her sister was done, Poe got a big smile on her face and said out loud, “Through there!”

Chapter Nine

      The girls all made their way down the staircase.  With every step they took, the light behind them seemed to disappear, allowing new light to shine in front of them. 

      “Wow Raine, your magic is strong,” Targy said softly as they made their way along the underground tunnel.

      “Thanks,” replied the older fairy, “but my magic is nothing.  You should see what some of the even older fairies can do.”

      “Well it’s no wonder Cyrus wants the fairy magic then…”

      With Raine and Poe leading the way, the four girls eventually reached their destination, which seemed to take forever (but actually only took about ten fairy minutes).  And even though they were tired (Targy and Lilly especially because they had to hop and run all this way just to keep up with the fluttering of the fairies) the only thought in their minds was the task at hand. 

      When they reached the end of the tunnel, Raine motioned for the girls to stop, and then pointed off a short ways.  “That’s the entrance to the dungeon,” she whispered.

      Lilly shuddered at the words.  Seeing this, Targy grabbed her hand as friends do, and gave her a big smile.  It was a smile that gave the little squirrel continued courage.  Then, with bravery in her own voice she said softly, “Ok girls, let’s go get your family…”

      Targy then took off toward the dungeon.  Now, I’m not sure what you’ve heard about Targy from her other stories, but generally speaking, her and Lilly are not the most silent or elegant of creatures.  In fact, many of their adventures have been caused by some accident they have found themselves a part of.  But on this adventure, in this moment, even the graceful Singing Swans of Ferndale would have been proud.  Because Targy moved along, making hardly a noise, and without a single misstep.  And following her lead, the rest of the girls quickly followed.

      “There they are,” Lilly said with a soft tone as the girls all took in the sight before them.  What was easily over a hundred fairies, and probably even closer to five hundred, fluttered before the adventurers.  But these fairies were not quite like the two Lilly and Targy had been traveling with.  These fairies seemed much more passive and were trapped behind bars made of dark magic. 

      It was obvious the dreary gloominess of the dungeon had sapped most of their wild energy.  That, combined with their stolen magic, which was evident by each fairy having little to no hair at all, made it impossible for the once fanciful creatures to save themselves.

      As the girls were each looking around in attempt to make a plan to free the fairies, Poe caught sight of her parents, and then beaming toward them, called out, “Mom… Dad… are you all right?”

      “Poe, no wait!” Raine cried out a moment too late to stop her sister.  Wanting to protect her, the older fairy darted out toward the prison as well.  The two fairies made it quickly to the bars, only to be forced back by Cyrus’ spell.

      “Poe…. Raine…” their fairy mother asked, “What are you doing here?”

      “We are here to save you… all of you,” Poe answered excitedly.

      “But it’s too dangerous.  You must leave now before Cyrus comes back.”

      As Raine looked around trying to find a way to break the spell, she replied, “Not without all of you.”

      “Did you come alone?”

      “No,” Poe responded, “We brought some new friends.”

      With those words, Targy and Lilly stepped out from the dark hallway.  All the fairies gasped with exhilaration.  Magical creatures, such as fairies and the like, usually do not mix with normal folks such as these two girls.  And when they do, it is almost always on the other side of the petal portal.  So seeing the bunny and squirrel here in Magicalli was a huge shock, but a good one.  And it gave the fairies enough hope that something special may truly happen now that would free them from their cage of shadows.

Chapter Ten

      Looking around, the girls did not see too much that could help them.  The room had a thick, dark smoky fog about it, which seemed to keep the bars strong and tough.  Tougher even than the hardest metals in the world.  And though the bars were not so close together that the fairies couldn’t fit through, it was the magic radiating from the bars that prevented any escape.

      “What are we going to do, Raine?” Poe asked her sister.  “How are we going to free them?”

      The older fairy twirled about, trying to open a small pinhole door through the dark magic, but her power just was not strong enough.  After a few moments of no success, she fell to the ground in fatigue.  “I don’t know Poe… I’m just not strong enough to break through the spell.”

      Even though the sisters were out of ideas, Targy was not about to fail after coming all this way.  So without giving up hope, she scanned the area.  Then using her super eyesight, (which really wasn’t a power… I mean, after all, all bunnies have great eye sight from eating all those carrots) she saw what looked like a gem above the prison cage.  It was large and dark, yet shiny… like a huge black diamond.  A thick beam of shadow seemed to be coming from it, and pointing right at the cage. 

      “I think that dark crystal is powering the magic on the bars,” Targy said as she pointed up.

      “But how can we get to it?” Poe asked.

      “Ya, I might be able to flutter up that high, but I definitely won’t be fast enough.  I’ll never make it through that shadow beam,” Raine added.

      Just then, Lilly spoke up, “I think I can do it.”

      The girls all turned to look at the squirrel.  “What, how?” Raine asked her.

      “I’m not sure,” she responded.  “I just feel like I can do it.”

      “Are you sure?” Targy asked her best friend.

      “Yuppers, I think so.”  Then turning to Raine she asked, “If I can nudge it just enough to tilt the beam, do you think you can open a doorway long enough to free your family and friends?”

      “Not alone,” Raine answered with a smile, “But I bet I can with Poe’s help.”

      The younger fairy smiled, and gave her sister a big hug.  Then Targy turned to her friend and did the same, while whispering into her ear, “Good luck.”

      “Ok, stand back,” Lilly said.  After focusing her thoughts and taking a deep breath, she began a countdown, “Three, two, one…”

      “Take off!” everyone yelled, as if urging Lilly on.  And that it did.  The little squirrel had come such a long way.  After leaving the Secret Woods of Junto for the first time ever, facing her fears, and standing by her friends, this was nothing.  So she took a leap unlike any other leap she had taken before. 

      Remember how earlier I mentioned that some had thought Lilly was a flying squirrel because of her jumping ability?  Well this jump was even higher.  And remember when I told you how she would beat that legendary hare in a race?  Well this was even faster.  Lilly jumped so high and so fast that she was able to go right through the shadow beam, and throwing all of her weight into it, hit the dark diamond crystal. 

      As she fell back to the ground, she landed on her plush tail and rolled against the wall.  Targy ran over to her, kneeled down and then asked, “Lilly are you ok?”

      Smiling, the squirrel responded, “I’m fine.  Did it work?”

      Looking up, the girls both saw the shadow beam was now tilted slightly to the side, leaving a weakness in the magic around the bars.  Targy then answered softly as she helped her friend up, “It sure did Lilly.  You did it!  That jump was amazing.  How did you know you could do it?”

      “I didn’t,” Lilly answered.  “Not for sure at least.  I just felt it inside of me.  I think that is my power here.  It felt really great!”

      “Well it was way awesome,” Targy added as she gave her friend another huge hug.  “I’m so proud of you.”

Chapter Eleven

      The two friends then ran over to the cage where Poe and Raine were starting to work their magic.  After Lilly’s jump, the fairies found a weak part in the bars, a place where the tilted shadow beam was only partially focused.  This disruption was just enough for the sisters to focus their energy and create a pinhole through the magic bars.

      With each second that passed, the hole grew larger and larger, and quickly became big enough to fit the butterfly fairies through.  One by one, each of them exited the cage, and as they did, each helped out the one behind.

      Just as the last fairy exited, the whole group surrounded Poe and Raine, thanking them for their heroics.  “Now, we just have to get out of here,” Raine said as she tried to help organize the gaggle of fairies.

      But at that moment, the room halted in sudden stillness and silence as a loud boom echoed throughout the entire fortress.  Just then, seeming to come from the walls themselves, a dark voice yelled out, “You may have gotten free from my cage, but you shall never leave this castle!”

      “Cyrus!” Poe cried out loud in a panic.  “What do we do?”

      Everyone then looked at Targy, hoping and searching for an answer for the biggest and bravest adventurer in the room.  At that moment, she felt the weight of everyone’s freedom on her shoulders, but it was not a bad thing.  In fact, (Targy went on to say many times later), if anything, it helped urge her on.  After all, she could not let all these fairies, or her friends, suffer.

      Right at that moment, a loud bang echoed through the halls, over and over again.  It was as if giant footsteps were getting closer and closer to where they were. 

      “Quick, we don’t have much time,” Targy yelled.  “Lilly, you have to lead the fairies out of here the way we came in!”

      “What?” Lilly responded in surprise. 

      “Someone has to stay behind and slow Cyrus down so you all can get out.  And you are faster than me, so you need to lead them.”

      “I can’t leave you here.  I won’t leave you here!”

      “No, you have to.  Remember how you had the feeling inside of you telling you that you could make that jump?  Well I have that same feeling now.  This is my chance to take the leap Lilly.  You have to believe in me!”

      Lilly did not want to give in, but she trusted her friend’s words so much.  Targy had never lied to her before.  If she said she could do it, Lilly just had to believe in her.    

      So Lilly jumped into the bunny’s arms, and gave her friend a huge, giant hug.  “Just be careful,” she said.  “I’ll be waiting for you outside.  I’m not going to go home without you!”

      Returning the embrace, Targy replied, “You won’t have to.  I’ll be right behind you.”

      Just then, Raine yelled out, “Poe, go with Lilly.  I’m going to stay here with Targy.”  Everyone in the room was just about to protest, but before anyone could get out a single word, Raine continued on, “I’m not about to leave Targy here by herself.  She risked herself to help us, and I’m going to stand by her.  Besides, I’m the most powerful butterfly fairy left because Cyrus hasn’t gotten my hair yet.  So maybe, just maybe, together Targy and I can slow him down long enough for you all to escape.”

      “But Raine!” Poe exclaimed.

      “But nothing, Poe.  You need to help Lilly get the others to freedom.  You can do it.  I know you can.  You’re a smart and amazing little sister.  I believe in you.  We all do!”

      With that, the two sisters embraced, and shortly after were joined by their parents.  But before the hugs could go on too long, the sound of the clanging footsteps were getting closer and closer.  In fact, they seemed like they were just moments away.

      Raine turned away and yelled out to everyone, “Now go.  Follow Lilly and Poe.  They will lead you to safety.  And don’t worry about us, we will be fine…”

      “We got this,” Targy finished.

Chapter Twelve

      As everyone ran out through the secret tunnel, Targy and Raine braced themselves.

      “Do you have a plan?” Raine asked as the sound of Cyrus’ footsteps were just around the corner.

      “Maybe not a great one, but I got something.  We have to lead him away from the tunnel.  Can you combine some of your sparkly fairy dust all close together and create a small crystal?  Kind of like the dark gem up there?”

      “I don’t know… I think so.  I’ve never tried it before but ya, I think I can.”

      “Awesome!  Just follow my lead and when I call out, make one as fast as you can.”

      “Got it!” Just then, as Raine was finishing her words, Cyrus came running into the room.

      In all the adventures, and of all the situations that Targy ever found herself in, she said none ever made her more scared than this single moment.  She did not feel it so much at the time, but afterwards, when asked about what had happened on this night, in this room, she realized just how scared she really was.  But the fear, she would always add, did not make her cower.  No, instead it gave her the strength to fight on.  Because she knew what she had to do, and she knew she could do it.  She believed in herself just that much.

      As Targy stood there, with Raine resting upon her shoulder, Cyrus stepped out from the shadowed darkness.  He was tall… very, very tall, and thin.  It was difficult to make out any real features on him though, because he seemed to be swirled in a thick stream of black smoke… or maybe he was made of the smoke itself.  Either way, Targy had no intention of getting close enough to finding out.

      “Hmmm, what is that I smell?” Cyrus echoed out with a deep and raspy voice.  “Is that rabbit?” he then added as he lunged forward.

      “It’s bunny, and you can’t have any!” Targy yelled back as she hopped to the side and bounced right past Cyrus.

      The evil dream mage turned around suddenly, and shot beams of shadow in Targy’s direction. But her natural bunny instincts helped her avoid every blow.   And as she was bouncing about, she yelled out to Raine, “Now!”

      With those words, the brave young butterfly released a bunch of fairy dust from her hair into the air, and then spinning around it as fast as she could, started to force the dust together into a tiny crystal stone.  Exhausted from the effort, she was just about to fall to the ground.  But before she did, she swung her hair around one last time, and tossed the gem over to Targy.

      The bunny then caught the fairy crystal in mid hop, and landed right in front of Cyrus. 

      “You dare challenge me?” Cyrus bellowed out.  “I shall make you my pet!”

      “I don’t think so,” Targy yelled back before whispering under her breath, “I hope this works.” 

Chapter Thirteen

      Now, what Targy was about to do was something she had never done before.  But as with Lilly, she knew in her heart it was something she could do.  Everyone comes to a point in their life when they are forced to try something new, and with enough effort and concentration, chances are, they will succeed.  It really doesn’t take the magic of Magicalli to unlock the power within, but in this case, it might have helped just a bit.

      Targy then closed her eyes and focused her thoughts.  She thought of all the fairies they just freed.  She thought of her new friends, Raine and Poe.  She thought of her bestest friend Lilly, who she was so proud of.  She thought of her other friends back in the Secret Woods of Junto.  And she thought of her parents.  She thought of all these people, all at once, and the very thought of them made her insides warm with love. 

      The more she thought of them all, the stronger the love within her grew.  Soon, after only a second or two (of bunny time that is) she felt as if the love had grown so much she could not hold it in anymore.  As she opened her eyes, she saw a brilliant white light with shades of pink surrounding her.  This was her power… her light.  A light brought on by love, courage, and happiness.

      Targy watched as Cyrus began to slink back.  The brightness beaming from the bunny scared him.  It was everything he was not. 

      Seeing this, Targy then focused her thoughts even more and concentrated on the light.  Then with a final scream, the bunny yelled out, “Leave my friends alone you bad man!” 

      She centered the light and focused on putting it through the crystal.  As it went in one end a brilliant and bright radiance, it came out the other end a powerful and strong beam. 

      The beam of her love-light hit Cyrus’ largest shadow beam straight on, and forced it in reverse.   The evil dream mage tried to fight back, but the more Targy focused and concentrated, the stronger her beam became.  After a few seconds, her love-light overcame the shadow darkness and knocked Cyrus back against the wall and onto the ground.

      Seeing Cyrus defeated, at least for the moment, Targy stopped concentrating and put the gem in her pocket.  She ran over to Raine, who sat exhausted and almost speechless on the ground. 

      “Wow, Targy,” the fairy panted out between heavy breaths.  “That was the most amazing thing I have ever seen.”

      “I couldn’t have done it without you girl,” the bunny replied as she scooped her friend up from the ground.  “Now let’s get out of here!”

      Without taking a second look behind them, Targy and Raine took off down the darkened hallway.   While off in the distance, they could hear Cyrus stirring as he yelled out, “This isn’t over yet!”

Chapter Fourteen

      With Raine in her hand, Targy moved as fast as she could down the tunnel.  Her love-light, dimmer now than it was earlier, still was bright enough to light the path.  She ran part of the way, and hopped the rest, moving as fast as she could.

      In took just a short time for her to reach the exit.  With a mighty pounce she flew out of the ground as the fairy doorway closed behind her.

      “Oh Targy, I was so worried,” Lilly exclaimed as she ran over to her friend. 

      But before any more happy words could be exchanged, the ground started to shake and a big howl came from the castle walls.  Everyone turned and looked as the cloud above the towers started to swirl and darken even more.

      “Um, what’s happening now?” Lilly asked.

      Everyone was silent for a moment, when Raine turned to Targy and wondered, “Do you still have that crystal?”

      “I sure do,” Targy responded as she handed it over to her friend.  “Why?”

      “I have an idea,” Raine replied while turning to the rest of the fairies.  “Now I know most of your magic has been taken.  But if I’ve learned anything from these girls today, it’s that magic is in all of us… and hair or not, I know there has to be something left in each of you.  I need you all to focus on helping me make this crystal bigger.  I know we can do it!”

      It didn’t take much convincing to get the fairies to want to try.  So all together, every butterfly fairy released what little magic they could.  By themselves it may not have been much, but combined, it was something special and powerful. 

      With every fairy that focused its energy, the crystal grew larger and larger.  Once it was the size of a coconut, Raine then turned and said, “Ok Lilly, do you think you can do one of your super jumps, and bring this crystal into the air as high as you can?”

      “I’ll do my best!” Lilly replied, full of confidence now.

      “And Poe,” Raine continued on, “can you place a floating spell on it to keep it in the air?  My magic needs to recharge, and you’re the only one left who is powerful enough!”

      Believing in herself, the younger fairy responded, “I know I can do it, Sis!”

      Smiling, Raine handed the crystal to Lilly who took a deep breath.  Then with every bit of strength she could muster, she leaped high and far into the air.  When she could not go any higher, she let go of the crystal.  Then as she fell back to the ground, the rest of the fairies caught her, and Poe stepped up.

      The little fairy spun around really fast, much as her older sister had done so many times before.  With a flip of her shorter hair, she released a stream of thin magic into the air, catching the stone, and keeping it afloat.

      Everyone cheered as Raine turned to Targy and said, “You know what to do.  Do you have anything left?”

      “I think so!” the bunny exclaimed.  Closing her eyes, she focused all of her love once more.  This time though, she was urged on by all of her friends.  And just when she thought she was going to pass out from the effort, Lilly came over and grabbed her hand, giving her support.

      That last bit was all she needed to help push her, and with a giant warmth filling her, she released it all out into the sky.  Raine fluttered up, and helped direct the love-light to the crystal by swirling around it.  And once it hit the crystal, the rest was magic.

      The love-light hit one side of the crystal a thin beam, but then was augmented by the millions of pieces of fairy dust pressed together.  It then shot out the other end, and covered the castle off in the distance.  Much like the dark diamond that imprisoned the fairies, this glimmering white gem that was powered by the love-light locked away the darkened castle of Mount Vermin, trapping Cyrus in it forever.

Chapter Fifteen

      The crowd cheered as the darkness of the land began to subside.  Up until now, Targy and Lilly had only witnessed the dreary gloom of Magicalli.  But after Cyrus’ spell was broken, the vibrant beauty of the land began to return.

      The group made its way back to Monorchia, with the fairy crystal staying behind, high in the air, keeping the darkness at bay. 

      Once back at the fairy village, the town elders offered the girls a place to stay.  But as much as they wanted to join their new friends, they knew they had to get back home, as their own families were probably worried sick.

      “We would love to stay,” Targy told Raine and Poe, “but we really need to go home.  I’m sure our parents are searching all over for us.”

      “We understand… we all do,” Raine replied as she gave the girls a big hug.

      “But you are welcome back anytime,” Poe added.

      “And if we can ever return the favor, just ask,” Raine finished right after her sister.

      “Oh thank you so much,” Lilly then said.

      “For what?” the fairies asked together.  “It is we who should be thanking you.  You saved our land.”

      “For helping me see what I was capable of,” Lilly responded.

      “Shoot,” said Raine.  “That was inside of you the entire time.  Magicalli just helped you realize your potential.”

      The girls all said their final goodbyes as Raine opened up the petal portal one more time.  Lilly jumped through first.  But before Targy joined her, she turned to the fairies and whispered, “Goodbye my friends, I will miss you all.”  She then blew them a kiss and jumped into the petal portal, disappearing into thin air.

      Now, you might think that was the end of the story, and in a way, it was.  Because it was the end of their adventure.  But at the very beginning of this story, I told you I would explain how Targy got her special title, and that part is coming up right now!

      Once back in the field of rainbow orchids, Targy and Lilly looked at each other in silence.  They were tired but happy, shocked but proud.  They could hardly believe the adventure they had just gone on.  But let me tell you this, it got much easier for them as the years went on, because this adventure was hardly the last.

      It was night time in the Secret Woods of Junto, and dark all around.  But not the same dark that the girls had experienced in Magicalli.  No, this dark was more natural, and not nearly as scary.

      “So, what type of trouble do you think we are in?” Lilly asked her friend as they set off for home.

      “Probably a lot,” Targy responded as she began to pick some flowers.  After all, that was the whole reason they had come here in the first place.  Then she added, “I can’t see us talking our way out of this one.  They will never believe us.  The truth sounds more fake than any lie we could ever make up ourselves.”

      “Ya, I think you’re right.”

      The rest of the way, the girls walked in silence.  They were in no hurry to get back because of the trouble they were surely in, but they wanted to see their families.  Also, they had little to say as chitter- chatter, because really, after an adventure such as what they were just on, what is there to talk about?  No, they had to soak it all in, and face the music back at home.

Chapter Sixteen

      The walk back to their town went much quicker than when they left.  The village was all assembled, circled around the town elders, when Targy and Lilly finally entered the outskirts. 

      At first they went unnoticed, but as they got closer, Targy’s mom saw her and bounced over quickly, “Where have you been young lady!?!” she asked with a bit of anger and concern mixed in her voice.

      The young bunny gave her mom a hug, as Lilly bounced off to find her parents and do the same.  Targy then looked up in her mom’s eyes and said, “You’ll never believe me.”

      “Just try me,” she replied.

      Targy relayed the entire story to her mom, who at first seemed to take it very well.  But with every mention of fairies, magic, and crystals, you could see the belief in her mother’s eyes drift deeper and deeper away.  By the end of her story, everyone in town, who by this point had surrounded Targy, shook their heads in disbelief.

      So Targy stood there, with her head pointing down and a sad look on her face as the elders began the Coming of Age ceremony.  She just knew it would be bad, especially now.  But as she stood there, alone and upset, Lilly came bouncing by her side.  She took her hand and whispered to her friend, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

      The elders addressed the crowd, speaking loud for all to hear.  “Targy, your bad behavior today is shining proof of what bunnies should not do.  As such, we feel you need to be made example of, so none of the other bunnies follow in your footsteps.  At your age, you should be a model for good deeds, and your lies today are not the example we want shown.  So from this moment forward you are to be known as Targy the…”

      Just then, from the back of the crowd, a voice yelled out, “Wait!”

      Then another voice joined in, “Stop!”

      Everyone looked around, but no one could tell where the voices were coming from.

      “Who goes there?” one of the town elders asked out.

      “My name is Raine,” the familiar butterfly fairy said as she fluttered up beside Targy.

      “And I’m Poe!” the other said proudly as she settled in beside Lilly.

      The entire town stood in amazement and shock.  Up until tonight, they had never even heard of such a magical creature, and now before them, fluttered two.  Silence filled the air as Raine began to speak, “Everything Targy has told you is true.  She saved our land, our home, our friends…”

      “And our family,” Poe added.  “And we can prove it!”

      “Prove it?” the town elder said.  “How?”

      “Well if two butterfly fairies standing before you aren’t proof enough,” Raine answered with a touch of sass, “then how about taking a look up in the sky.”

      All at once, the entire town looked up into the night air as they had all done so many times before.  Above the Secret Woods of Junto was often a clear evening sky, and tonight was no different.  In it, one could see a bright full moon, and hundreds of little stars.  But tonight, one star, a new star, was shining brighter than any other.

      The entire town gasped in amazement as Raine continued on, “That star is your proof.  It is shining bright with Targy’s love for us all.  In our realm, it is a crystal powered by her love keeping the evil dream mage, Cyrus, imprisoned.  But it shines so bright and so powerful, that you can see it as a star here in your world.  As long as that star is in the sky, we know our land is safe!”

      “It’s true, it’s true!” Poe added.

      With those words, the crowd began to murmur.  After a few moments, the murmurs turned to cheers.  Targy’s parents rushed right over and gave their daughter a huge hug.  Her mom then said, “Oh my princess.  I’m so sorry for not believing you.  Will you forgive me?”

      “Of course mom,” Targy replied as she gave her mom a kiss on the cheek.  “I know.  It was quite the story, huh.”

      “You are going to have to tell me all about it again… without leaving out any details!”

      “I will, Mom.  I will.”  Targy then turned to her friends Lilly, Raine, and Poe, and said, “Thank you for standing by me.  I love you all.”

      “We love you too Targ!” they replied together as they embraced in one big hug.  After a moment though, they were interrupted.

      “Ahem,” one of the town elders said.  “We have discussed these events.  In light of what has happened, we would like to apologize to Targy, and to you Lilly, for ever doubting you.”

      The girls just smiled as the elder continued on, with the entire town cheering in the background, getting the party started.

      “And from this moment on, for her heroic deeds as proven by the brilliant twinkle in our evening sky, we hereby call you now and forever, Targy, the Great Bunny Star!”

      And that, my friends, is Targy’s tale…

The End

The Nightingale’s Song
by Jonas Hyde

Hark,
oh hear,
this tale I need to share,
for perhaps its moral can save your soul,
as she saved mine. 

For on that night,
now so long ago,
her Nightingale’s Song was first whispered to me. 

I remember it clearly,
as if its the only memory left to recall. 

In that moment,
the tempest winds swirled ‘round me,
mirroring the angst and strife within. 

My life’s turmoil,
was soon to be at its end,
not by disease,
nor crime,
but simply by my ain will. 

For there I stood,
balanced ‘pon the cliff’s edge,
staring into the Tempter’s void. 

His abyss called out,
beckoning me with its honeyed gifts. 

Not the temptations of pleasure one would expect,
but simply,
a release from the pain. 

‘Twas then,
in that moment ‘fore death,
when time stops with the world,
and all sits still,
her call came to me. 

The soft voice of a sabled bird,
bejeweled with the lure of an azure stone,
travelled ‘pon the winds.

I turned to find its source,
but could not,
due to the blackness that engulfed me. 

The sound was faint,
and I wondered for how long she had been there,
calling to me,
without my e’er noticing.  

So I closed my eyes,
and focused on her call. 

Its subdued sound had a somber touch,
which I at first did not realize,
for it was laced within a joyful facade. 

‘Pon opening my eyes,
I found her ‘fore me,
suddenly as if there the entire time. 

At first glance,
I could quickly see through the masque of her bliss,
and to the pain ‘neath. 

It mirrored my own anguish,
and in that instance,
I knew we were as one. 

I reached out my hand,
and she perched ‘pon it,
tilting her head so slightly to the side,
as the world stormed ‘round us. 

‘Twas then,
I asked her if she had come to join me,
to end her pain as I was ‘bout to end mine. 

Her response tho’,
was more than I could e’er relate here. 

For from her echoed a song,
so beautiful and pure,
I knew at once it matched her soul. 

She sang of love and life,
of pain and death,
and of the infinite emotions betwixt the ends. 

Her verve filled my ain self,
with a strength I had long lost. 

As she sang tho’,
the tempest winds swirled ‘round me with even a greater fury,
as if the Tempter himself were trying to claim his prize. 

Then with a sudden gust ‘gainst my back,
I lost my step,
and fell. 

Fell deep,
down into the darkened abyss. 

Just when I thought I had found hope,
found love,
my life’s journey was to come to an end. 

The deeper I fell,
the louder His laugh,
the Tempter’s merry,
it resonated ‘round me without end. 

I thought all was lost,
for my strength paled in comparison to Alighieri’s,
and I would surely succumb to the darkness. 

But then,
just as all faith was exhausted,
my Nightingale came to me,
flying as I was falling. 

She then continued her song,
drowning out the Tempter’s curse. 

Promise once again returned,
and the icy darkness of lonely solitude within,
began to fill with a warm flow of light. 

At first dull,
the glow intensified,
quickly turning into a brilliant radiance. 

After filling my ain soul,
the cavernous void I was descending into,
also began to shimmer. 

In that moment,
when light finally overtook the darkness,
a second gust came,
this time larger than the first. 

Blowing up from the abyss,
it pushed me high into the Heavens,
as if rising from a geyser of damnation.  

‘Twas truly a resurrection of my ain soul,
I felt reborn. 

When all was done,
I stood back where I started,
‘pon the edge of that cliff. 

Howe’er this time,
there was no storm ‘round me,
only a shining star,
resting high in the northern sky. 

And my Nightingale,
she who risked everything to save me,
was still there by my side. 

In the time since,
she has ne’er left,
and our wounds healed,
falling off with the memories we both cared to forget. 

Tho’ time unfortunately passes,
which brings me to this present point,
for my time is at its end. 

I wish I could spend,
eternity e’ermore with her,
but alas,
such dreams can ne’er come to be. 

Thankfully,
by the Maker’s gift,
I was given this time with her,
tho’ but a moment,
in the scheme of fore’ers grace,
yet I feel as if I have lived a lifetime tenfold,
by her side. 

So with my final breath,
I pray you heed my tale,
as I offer these last words to you my love,

     I heard the whisper of your call,
     upon the evening’s wind,
     beckoning my soul with your Nightingale’s Song,
     for then my heart it did enthrall.

     At once my love was fore’er yours,
     and since without regard,
     for on that tempest night my life you did save,
     and our love since e’er endures.

     Now on this eve I bid goodnight,
     as I fall e’er asleep,
     but fear not for Tempter’s grasp has given way,
     to our long love you did ignite.

     Do not weep my love as I die,
     I’ll always be with you,
     as you were for me my sabled Nightingale,
     e’er in love… I bid you goodbye.

Familiar Stranger
by Jonas Hyde

In this moment,
my heart is weak,
why is it hard to say,
what we both want to speak,
an ocean of fear,
a breath and a tear,
a beautiful thing,
life could be,
if I would ever know,
the familiar stranger,
so far away…

Lament for Lady Beth by Jonas Hyde

Lament for Lady Beth
by Jonas Hyde

Once there was a man who walked this cobbled street,
with quill and ink in hand,
who accomplished such a magnificent feat,
on a scale so wide and grand,
for he was a poet true,
known far across this land,
as a smith of words, oft who,
wove tales littered of romance and fears,
with a skill matched world ‘round by few,
by those who strived to be his peers,
but little did they know his words were, in actuality, scribed with real blood and tears.

In past by day, using wit and charm,
he enticed women without regard,
but by night, to them each and all, would only come pain and harm,
a curse he could not control tho’ he tried so hard,
the monster dwelling within his dreams,
leaving women lifeless and his own psyche scarred,
for every morn’ he woke, he heard their deathly screams,
and tho’ this poet named Elias at birth,
would try numerous plans and schemes,
his life was void of happiness and mirth,
causing him to challenge in truth, his eventual purpose and own self-worth.

Tho’ his curse had not always been,
‘stead coming to him after deal with Tempter was made,
for fame and fortune was his sin,
and this curse fore’er was his trade,
unless his heart could find love’s hue,
and for that every day he prayed,
but with each eve that passed he knew,
morrow’s morn would be ushered by death so cruel,
serving up his own tears of rue,
leaving him to play the fool,
learning hard that sorrow following sin was an eternal rule.

‘Til the fateful day when this story starts,
as most lessons do,
when love at first sight ravaged young lovers’ hearts,
as if born from a sorcerer’s brew,
for it was then when he met her,
woman beautiful so, with raven’s hair and eyes as deep as ocean blue,
and our poet’s heart quickly began to stir,
lost within the presence of she who stole his breath,
as the world ‘round him began to blur,
he vowed ne’er to love again by pledge of his own death,
save for this woman simply known as Lady Beth.

‘Pon shared breath their love was sealed,
costing to start not even a word,
for when looking into each other’s eyes their souls were healed,
and tho’ some may find it absurd,
their lives seemed eternally blessed,
and it was then when to Elias it occurred,
to put such thoughts true to the test,
for if Lady Beth truly had an effect so,
then it would also suggest,
that perhaps she could ease his nightly woe,
and salvation, her love could bestow.

So with that their courtship began,
and their love started to grow,
love which made Elias a better man,
for by day and night his heart blazed aglow,
with the thought of Lady Beth’s touch,
‘til after six months time he simply had to know,
if his salvation could be simple as such,
as sharing his world with she,
or if it were asking too much,
so that evenfall her took her to the sands bordering the sea,
and as dusk fell, Elias made his plea.

“Lady Beth I speak to you now,”
as he held her hands in his so tight,
“and ‘pon my ain heart I make you this sacred vow,
fore’er for us shall begin tonight,
and last even past our ends,
if you will accept my invite,
to be so much more than friends,
to become my wife,
for our love transcends,
for with you I want to share my life,
and with that, end all of our trials and strife.”

As was her way,
Lady Beth looked deep into his eyes,
and even tho’ there were no precise words to say,
how she felt and how he made her heart rise,
her gaze said it all,
for she could not disguise,
how love which started so small,
could quickly grow so deep,
how he had been there when she herself was about to fall,
for even she had secrets to keep,
which when alone at night would softly make her weep.

For in the darkness of her own past,
were secrets locked away,
undisclosed whispers that were in stark contrast,
to how she felt on this day,
for in her youth,
she was feasted upon as prey,
deflowered in a way so uncouth,
the very thought of it brought tears and pain,
and no matter how hard she tried to hide the truth,
she could not refrain,
from having tears of fear fall oft as London rain.

So together these two stayed,
the night through on this beach,
comforting each other so neither was afraid,
of the night’s tortuous reach,
and for the first time in fore’er,
for both and each,
they longed to awake together or never,
as they pledged each other their eternal love,
a bond which would never sever,
to put the other on a pedestal tall and above,
a feeling that ‘fore neither had dreamed of.

Starting with a touch, followed with a kiss,
their passion was secured,
penetrating bliss,
and with that Elias was assured,
that Lady Beth was the one,
as when morning came he thought he was cured,
for the first time in fore’er his love rose with the sun,
and watching her as she dressed,
his curse seemed finally undone,
lost within her smell, her warmth, her life, he noticed upon her breast,
a perfect mark from birth, in the likeness of a wren’s nest.

So noon next they returned home and plans begun,
as Lady Beth shared the news,
family and friends were all excited save one who would not be outdone,
sister Anne who concocted a ruse,
to pillage Elias’ love and lust,
to try and replace his muse,
to try and gain his trust,
for visage with sister she shared,
twins at birth, though harboring a silent disgust,
a hatred born of always being compared,
wishing it would be for her, not Lady Beth, that people cared.

The day came when Elias and his love were to wed,
so Anne put her plan into motion,
to take Lady Beth’s place at the altar in her stead,
for she had come up with the notion,
that Elias’ love should be hers,
so in secret she concocted a potion,
a recipe passed down from the most venomous saboteurs,
which would create a lasting sleep,
so that what next occurs,
would be her sin to reap,
but then, as most already know, the cost of such follies is never cheap.

With a villain’s deftly grace,
Anne met her sister alone,
and under the guise of offering good luck’s embrace,
she enacted her plan which only the Tempter would condone,
for the potion had been laced,
within the fabric of the veil that was hand sewn,
which when ‘pon Lady Beth it was placed,
the fumes were inhaled,
causing her to fall o’er at the waist,
into waiting Anne’s arms, as her plan had detailed,
leaving her to smile, for she knew she had prevailed.

Anne next placed her sister ‘pon the ground,
with one final task to complete,
tho’ she had to hurry ‘fore they were found,
to quickly finish this act of deceit,
so Anne unbuttoned the dress,
which concealed Lady Beth’s heartbeat,
and no longer able her vileness to suppress,
she inked ‘pon self the likeness to,
the mark of which her sister’s breast did possess,
the wren’s nest she matched through and through,
‘pon herself as if birth’s true tattoo.

And though it sounds so tragic,
with plan complete, Anne left her sister to die,
to let the potion work its dark magic,
so she could be ever so sly,
and have Elias for herself, for all of time,
even tho’ their love would be a lie,
Anne cared not of her crime,
she simply wanted Elias in a way she could not explain,
as her lust for this poet was truly sublime,
so her sister’s life she would feign,
if it meant with Elias she could remain.

Anne next went to the alter in a rush,
and as she saw the poet there ready and waiting,
her face started to blush,
witnesses thought its cause was love visually translating,
but rather it was the sign of sin’s pact being completed,
for Anne the duality of the moment was elating,
and with Lady Beth defeated,
that night with Elias would be breathtaking,
caring not that she cheated,
for in the moment of their love making,
all else would be forsaken.

So let this story now move to that exact second,
as it is a question oft’ asked,
when Elias’ manhood did Anne’s flower beckon,
in that moment how did true love remain masked,
the answer is one of which any man would not be proud,
for it comes down simply to within her petals he basked,
lost within the moment’s cloud,
thinking it was with his love Lady Beth that his body danced,
not knowing he was deceived by sin’s shroud,
and even when ‘pon the heaving nest he glanced,
the visage of the beauty ‘for him left Elias entranced.

Unfortunately for Anne, Elias’ story she did not know to heed,
leaving her open to a fate she did not expect,
for after sealing their vows with his seed,
she fell asleep in his arms thinking all was perfect,
and it was, ‘til he too fell into night’s slumber,
when for the first time in fore’er the curse over his body came into effect,
the monster within he could not encumber,
and as it awoke,
Anne became just another number,
for his sin did hers provoke,
resulting in her death, fate’s cruel joke.

But day next when Elias rose with the morn’s light,
he was sent into unending despair,
for by his side was the most gruesome sight,
to which he could not stop his stare,
his love he thought he had killed,
for he was still unaware,
that Anne’s sinister plan had been fulfilled,
so instead he thought it was Lady Beth’s body there that did lay,
and all over him his grief spilled,
for he thought his love did the monster within him slay,
and it was a notion which would bring e’erlasting dismay.

Wanting to breath not a moment more,
Elias reached for the nearest blade,
for now himself he did abhor,
and in pain and grief the situation he weighed,
then wished for the strength to bring his own demise,
to unite in death with who he thought he betrayed,
so after whispering ‘pon her cheek his final goodbye,
he plunged the cutting edge deep into his chest,
but as he did he was then met with perhaps this story’s biggest surprise,
something he would ne’er have guessed,
causing him to utter out softly, “Tempter, why with me do you jest?”

For as life within Elias began to escape,
Lady Beth entered the room,
at first the poet did not believe the shape,
his eyes noticed as death began to loom,
but as she came ever so close,
his soul once more did true love consume,
“O’ how fate blows,”
Elias whispered low,
“The Tempter’s plan is truly morose,
I know I reap what I sow,
but is it you my love, or a hoax, I must know ‘fore my soul is sent to the pits below?”

“Nay, it is no ruse which you see,
for I am really here,
it is truly me,”
Lady Beth replied as she drew herself near,
and in the moment that followed her story to him she did relate,
ending with how the poison’s strength was not so severe,
for it only made her sleep the night straight,
rather than through infinity,
a gift perhaps from fate,
a sign maybe even of heavenly divinity,
of which she was starting to forge a true affinity.

Crimson life dripped from his lips,
as Elias offered one last smirk,
he then placed his hands ‘pon her hips,
and uttered his last poet’s work,
offering to her alone his final piece,
as his body began to cough and jerk,
the pace of the words started to increase,
for it was then ‘Lady of my Dreams’ was said,
and ‘pon completion his life finally did cease,
causing her tears to be shed,
for in her arms his body finally fell dead.

Able not to bear the ache,
of her sister’s and lover’s end,
Lady Beth grabbed the blade herself so she could in death also partake,
for she knew her heart would ne’er mend,
and with that thought slit her own skin,
to join Elias as now both their soul’s were to descend,
for with her demise only the Tempter was to win,
but regardless of her torment,
knowing she would spend eternity with Elias made her finally grin,
and even though it was ne’er her intent,
for Lady Beth we shall fore’er lament.

The Tale of You
by Jonas Hyde

Late last eve,
my daughter came to me,
for the first time in ever it seems,
asking for a tale,
woven with the fabric of her youth.

It had been since those nights,
so many years ago in fact,
when I was last asked,
to complete such a task,
that I was unsure if such yarns were still within.

At first I stammered,
as I so oft do when taken aback,
but then she closed her eyes,
pulled the blanket to her chin,
and with a whisper asked, please.

I closed my eyes as she did,
then took a breath deep,
and lost myself  in the past,
searching for the days when passion flowed,
before my own muse died.

I thought of love lost,
and love never swooned,
I thought of the fears I let win,
the chances I never took,
and then I thought of you.

    Once upon a time,
    in a land far and away,
    was a beast dark and tall,
    with a sorrow so large in his heart,
    he despised each breath,
    taken every single day.

    For trapped he was,
    in a chamber of lies,
    living a life so hated,
    death would be welcome,
    save for the love he felt,
    when gazing into his daughter’s eyes.

    Til that one day,
    when as all thing do,
    life changed in blink,
    for beauty came,
   with a smile so bright,
   and a soul so true.

 The beast at first,
 noticed not the love within,
 blanketed only in his pain,
 so at first time passed,
 wasted moments,
 filled with hurt and sin.

 Tho’ beauty still,
 never lost hope,
 for she could look deep within the beast,
 and see what others could not,
 a heart longing to be loved,
 but bound by strife and rope.

 So patient she was,
 as she took his hand,
 and taught him how to love once more,
 filling the void of his darkness,
 stoking the fires of his life,
 each moment was grand.

 But beast was,
 as he was,
 not by curse or birth,
 but cause of his own,
 living in fear,
 doing what he does.

 Hardly any way to be,
 it changed him so,
 from the inside out,
 to the beast I speak of now,
 til that day that came,
 when he gave beauty the blow.

 Not of fist or foot,
 but a pain so much worse,
 for he told beauty on that day,
 that tho’ he cherished her,
 their love could never be,
 by fault of his curse.

 Beauty did not understand,
 nor did she care,
 for patience she had,
 and in her heart she knew,
 that if beast would just allow it,
 nothing would ever compare.

 But the beast was scared,
 and lost in his own sorrow,
 that he turned away,
 and left beauty in tears,
 as he begged her to go,
 and not be there tomorrow.

 So left she did,
 against her own will,
 and beast soon died,
 alone in life,
 because time passed,
 and his world became cold and still.

 For daughters grow up,
 and soon move on their own,
 and with beauty gone,
 the beast wept and cried,
 with regret in his heart,
 and his soul all alone.

Upon completing the tale,
my daughter was long asleep,
peaceful and serene,
happy just to hear my voice,
unknowing of my pain within.

So I slowly rose,
and wiped the tears from my eyes,
and promised that in my coming days,
I would find the love I missed,
that I would find you.

Whether it be in life,
or in death,
never again shall I let a moment pass,
or a breath wasted,
without you by my side.

Regret is the mistress I never longed for,
though she is the one I lie with now,
while you my nightingale,
with your Wilde rose in tow,
are all I ever wanted.

So hear my words,
as I shout to the world,
with me you’ll be evermore,
I’m just so sorry,
it has taken this long.

Adieu – (The final words of Gilles de Rais)

by Jonas Hyde

On this eve I bid adieu,
as night’s fall does approach,
and tho’ in truth I beg not to encroach,
upon your time or even guilt too,
for salvation I beg anew.

Curse of crime and dastardly deed,
chains my soul prisoner to this day,
for on my path I walked astray,
possessed by thirst and greed,
as to these sins and more I do concede.

Where to begin I do not know,
save to start where all tales do,
just be sure that when I am through,
you feel not pain or woe,
for this wicked garden I myself did sow.

At morn’s light I am set to die,
as the woven fibers of my crimes,
hang my body ‘till death’s bell chimes,
an eye for an eye,
so on this final night I bemoan and cry.

I go to sleep this eve knowing my fate,
fearing not the dawn,
fearing not for my sins are long forgone,
‘stead tonight I sit and wait,
for punishment deserved born of sickness and hate.

I know my soul should fear,
the coming of the end,
but it does not for I know I must amend,
to pay for crimes so severe,
for in sorrow I am sincere.

No longer do I thirst for the taste more,
of young life wetting my palate,
but my fate was sealed with the hammering of the magistrate’s mallet,
ending my sins of yore,
crimes that now even I abhor.

Instead I cry out in sorrow,
as I mourn those who fell victim to my sin,
prepare for my eternal suffering to begin,
as my ain death will come tomorrow,
a day more I cannot borrow.

Those who call me friend,
say the Tempter grabbed hold of me and has not let go,
but this I know,
the level of my sins may transcend,
but hope for my salvation shall never end.

Just remember I was once simply a man as you,
and this is my final farewell,
tho’ woken from the Tempter’s spell,
my crimes broke nearly every taboo,
and with every death my punishment I did accrue.

So I scribe these words in the ink of my sin,
leaving my last breath as one of hoped atonement,
and I would pray for death’s postponement,
if I knew where to begin,
but my fate is sealed and always has been.

To Him,
I beg for your arms,
to enjoy your infinite charms,
for tho’ life led was grim,
my soul yearns for the favour of your whim.

To those who fell beneath my curse,
your eternity shall be far more bountiful than mine,
tho’ do not think me to pine or whine,
or that I want you to be swayed by this verse,
as I know my life has been beyond perverse.

To those who I leave behind I offer this search,
judge me not only by my mark of madness,
for to do so would cause great sadness,
I know I had walked a path of sin with a lurch,
but consider the offerings I brought to both country and church.

Gilles de Rais is my name,
for those who know me not,
but I fear due to my deeds I shall never be forgot,
tho’ let me with these words proclaim,
that I seek not to exhale the curse of blame.

Just know I was not always the monster or fiend,
your thoughts make me to be,
and even tho’ from my sins I shan’t flee,
at any moment He could have intervened,
but guilt of consciousness was never gleaned.

So continue on I did,
spreading my seed of sin for five years straight,
destroying what He did create,
and tho’ of the lust I tried to get rid,
I hungered for what all others forbid.

Tho’ I digress for of my past there is more to tell,
intelligent in my youth,
and born into wealth by virtue and truth,
I led a life of nobility so as effect in all I did excel,
but on my ego I like not to dwell.

Let it be said,
it was not until I fell into service of the Royal Guard,
did my lust for sin grow causing my soul to be ever scarred,
as with each kill the desire within would spread,
mesmerizing my soul betwixt pleasure and dread.

I did great good in this role it should be known,
celebrated even by the our lord and King,
to le Victorieux great triumphs I would bring,
whilst fighting ‘long-side Lady Joan,
our accomplishments and legends had grown.

I tell you this not to make myself something great,
or to make any plea impassioned,
but simply to show my evil was rationed,
that my judgment was clouded by fate,
for this sinner I myself did not want to create.

I was not always this creature,
who is now reflecting upon his life,
filled with torment and strife,
I was a man who in youth wanted to be a preacher,
but instead had war as my teacher.

I was once a man of great honor and deed,
unfortunately for those who fell victim to me,
bloodlust became my life’s decree,
the succulent taste of salt and seed,
was all that would satisfy my sinful greed.

Over the next five years,
the Tempter within decided my fate,
an intimate torture to which none of you can ever relate,
and while this countryside was gripped by their fears,
with every kill I sobbed my own silent tears.

Tho’ my secular sentence is for the cruelty upon two hundred souls,
I confess before God in hopes of salvation,
in truth three times that is a truer revelation,
so here I sit as it is one of my goals,
to tell you both Tempter’s jester and King’s prince have been but two of my roles.

I am thankful to be here now,
in this room of cold dark stone,
as without it – if I were still on my own,
filling my needs I would still allow,
to this I can avow.

For with every life I took,
I had the wanton desire for two more,
as if truly the Tempter’s whore,
I never would have stopped the crimes which chilled and shook,
no matter the remorse I felt – the yearning within was simply too much to overlook.

It is time now to end this script,
as I can see the hints of dawn approaching,
light upon the night is encroaching,
and tho’ my freedom has been taken and stripped,
I care not if this room becomes my crypt.

For I bid this world my final goodbyes,
and in sorrow I sit,
to all my crimes I hereby admit,
but let it be known there is a man within who now cries,
a man who accepts his coming demise.

My soul feels sorrow and grief,
for bearing witness to the vile deeds of fiend,
whose mirrored stares scorns back broken and demeaned,
so I hope my death is brief,
offering this world from my sins final relief.

I thank you friends far and few,
for having the strength to stop my thirst when I did not,
and I confess these sins and any others I may have forgot,
in hope of finding salvation and the grace of His hue,
so to this world I apologize – and for the final time I bid adieu…

Take My Hand
by Jonas Hyde

Take my hand,
my love,
my dear,
and cry not this eve.

For through the fog,
I will take you,
take you by your hand,
and through the darkness lead.

The sun may set,
but light shall e’er shine,
the beacon of our love,
my heart you’ll receive.

So look to the sky,
beyond the eventide,
and wish ‘pon the twinkle of the stars,
for in the them you shall find,
a love that will ne’er leave.

Dream
by Jonas Hyde

Twas a dream I had of you,
which gave me hope and life anew
so place your head ‘pon the pillow,
and know I think,
on this night,
this evenfall,
of dreams you cannot deny,
for I speak to you in your sleep,
whilst my soul longs and weeps,
for you to let me in one more time,
to let me in evermore,
my muse,
my love,
you consume me,
make my solitude feel not so lonely,
make my anguish as fleeting,
as the moments that pass,
betwixt damnation and the edge of your starlight,
which illuminates my twilight,
but I can have you nevermore,
not by choice,
nor by plan,
but by cause of fear,
and pain born long ago,
so know my love,
as I dream into forever,
an eternity I want to sleep,
for I want not to rouse,
until I can wake,
with you.

Seraph of my Twilight
by Jonas Hyde
Seraph of my twilight,
your visage enables me to cope
as I struggle betwixt my darkness and light,
you are the source of my hope,
my strength,
my very essence which is oft fleeting,
lost within the trials of my years,
my curse,
I long for thee,
to take my hand,
and walk with me,
and guide me to your promised land,
the solace in your heart,
your thighs,
your very embrace,
consoles my soul,
so fill me with your verve and grace ,
and I will fill you whole,
this I beg,
Seraph of my twilight,
lay with me this eve and e’ermore,
for tho’ I Hyde,
it is you I seek.

Insula de Verum
by Jonas Hyde
Act One

10, June 1790
Strait of Juan de Fuca

Through the gossamer obscurity of the evening’s shadow,
dwelling firm upon the tide spawned from the strength of Neptune’s shoulders,
rippled with his labored breath,
nigh a moment of Life’s pulse past the crepuscule,
I challenged the pluvious elements.

“Hark, fiend of a lost watery nirvana,”
my tongue lashed and derided from the edged incline of my bow out to the silent Spirit;
one hand compressed against my rima oris as if clenching Gabriel’s trumpet,
the other held steadfastly to Anastasia’s mast.

“I defy your accord,
leaving my earthly coil to be decided not by your whim,
but by the pattern adorning Nona’s loom.

My fate shall be decided by the Fate of fates,
not your tears of rue!”

My travailing blaspheme went neglected,
but I let it not weigh down my soul.

I sought solace in the concept of my existence being warranted
by my aptitude,
and as such,
swung my serratus ‘round toward the wheel.

For the shadowing hours that followed,
we were a veritable poet’s theme subsisting as truth;
Man versus Nature.

My vessel was jactitated through darkness’ tempest;
torrent rain,
as daggers of Brutus,
ravaged my cloth sails.

The open sea I erstwhile had such credulity for,
was ostensibly turning to be my orphic foe,
but I permitted it not to distraught me.

I struggled on through my own esoteric Crusade.

Finally,
with my consistence of life imbrued in salt,
and sea,
bloomy sails commenced to relax beneath the salving winds,
whilst Anastasia calmed her sonorous heaving ‘pon the water.

I had seen her through,
and she too had restituted the favour.

Her gyrd frame in length lay perpendicular to my four cubit
stature,
yet hither,
alone,
eremitic,
we were joined;
the former counting on the later for protraction of breath,
and vise-versa.

With Neptune overcome,
and my ain vitality exhausted,
I fastened myself to the deck,
consumed.

My inhalation paced with hers,
in harmonic concert.

We rested our weary bones whilst tossing about,
passion jailed by fatigue.

Time later I awoke,
as Apollo liberated his blanched,
fulgent rays ‘pon me.

My fibre suffered,
but my nous did not vacillate.

Positioned grandiloquent,
I susurrated an orison of substance to my beloved for her
deliverance.

“Hah!”
I next wrawled in rhapsodic jubilation toward the vastness of the ocean.

“As but a boy I have been tried with a crueler,
harsher eloquence.

The allegory of your trials far transcend beyond incertitude,
the peril and difficulty of the actuality encompassing the manifestation of engaging in them.”

I scoffed and jeered at Father Sea for far too long before then shifting my cerebration to a significantly more critical detail,
specifically,
the extension of our survival.

Tho’ my words of dustup spoke defiance,
my soul spoke otherwise.

Anastasia had been damaged,
but her legend held not besmirched in the unkind and barbarous storm,
and now I had to ascertain the obscure location of thus unchartered lands,
so I could mend her properly.

Her love saved my scorned life,
and now I had to reciprocate the deed with my own skill and science.

Long ago I was originally commissioned by a now fallen
monarch,
Second in the House of Hanover,
who himself hath since commenced a journey down the proverbial River Styx o’er a score and ten agone,
and have been in solitaire,
save for my fille,
far longer than originally foreknown,
all the whilst concentrating on the fulfillment of my seemingly infeasible task.

Tho’ my charge was no longer the work of regality,
I adjudged apodictically,
and sincerely true,
my dedication nonetheless,
as such,
the underivative intent,
and spirit of my labour,
radiated from the parchment of each archipelago I chronicled.

As a cartographer,
I had seen more of this world than the faulted scholars who lamented it,
and the cowardly explorers who claim to have discovered it.

However I bespoke them wholly,
how could you lay title to discover what had been the entire time?

Fear held them back,
but it had not enchained me,
nor tethered my resolve by any means.

Rather,
I had rushed into the wanting appetence of the unknown beast,
only to chart out the darkness others feared so much they ignored the reality,
and existence,
of it all.

Nevertheless,
for all my bravado,
the storm had hampered myself,
and my love.

We both needed the solace of land,
the affection of fire,
the stability of static life.

For far too long,
longer in realness than I ever had before,
I had sailed those open waters;
with nary the sight of another vessel,
nor another indicant of breath.

I had tho’,
about a hebdomad yore,
observed the current reposition against the wind,
a wonted indication of volume emerging from the depths.

Pursuing such trails,
had in the past,
and by the given familiarity of nature,
e’er shall in the hereafter,
lead me to an improvised harbour from which I could recumb my own weary sea legs,
all the whilst mending Anastasia’s wounds.

In tune with a lost nightingale’s song,
we found ourselves stalking the current toward refuge,
which I sought in the guise of land;
familiarity a concern,
as fleeting as the commonality of my own eupnoeic breath.

The midday luminance burned impregnable now,
once more igniting the fervour of spirit within me,
rekindling the purpose and potency which had been earlier purloined.

As the phases of the tide,
of the light,
of the Moon,
so seemed the shifting ebb and flow,
the imbalance of my own nature.

Even I could recount,
even I could agnize,
it was time to regain my bearing,
and my mien;
not merely of position,
but of sanity.

Men were not borne with gills,
nor with fins,
and even the most adept seafarers eventually postulate the necessity to solidify their spirit with dust,
stone,
sand;
elements forfeited amongst the salt,
wind,
and sea of Brobdingnagian waters.

By late day,
the snarled and knotted lust within my stomach began to preponderate the hunger,
and thirst,
in my soul.

Reality,
as ineluctable as the most vivid Star,
was setting in.

My head was becoming miasmic,
my biliousness nimble,
my vision bleary.

I yearned and pined for victuals,
any sustenance,
but I had earlier consecrated to savour my next repast on solid land,
and I was not about to go back on my declaration.

Exposed,
alone,
my word was all I had,
living by it as oft as I suffered,
and once I would commence to denounce myself,
it would be insufferable to reconstruct the pass of honesty.

A man’s promise is merely as inviolable as his exploits,
it must be kept sacrosanct;
I could not afford to become an enemy to myself,
nor a captive to my demons.

No,
I would arrive at seacoast,
and it would be then,
only then,
that I would incur pleasure in the salt-cured soup,
forged of the coriaceous carcase,
fished from the sea only a few sunsets agone.

Bemused in my own mentation,
with thoughts as momentaneous as Nature’s susurrant exhalation,
which called me out to perish upon the sea with Celaeno’s charm,
I resounded my determination to subsist my breath.

In mention,
if I were to share the totality of my disregarded exploits of yore,
it would be obvious to any attender,
be it child with eyes of a doe,
or cynic with pursed lip,
to each and all they would believe that this particular moment,
tho’ tumultuous,
with more than adequate sufficiency in dire and horrific event to guttle and devour most men,
is in realness an afterthought,
when equated to the unfeigned tribulations I have surmounted in times of yesteryear.

But beneath my narration to both,
in my own heart and soul,
I would agnize my bravado to be faithlessly pretended,
as with every passing day,
every ephemeral year,
the failing of my body,
and the impuissance of my earthly coil,
maturate in concert with the passing of time.

My soiled hair grew grey in concurrence with the evanescent clouds above,
and as the sky lent me a temporary reprieve,
from its vehement and savage squall,
I perceived myself,
also dolourous,
when the realization of my solitude floated to the forefront of my consciousness.

All I had was my labour,
and it was for that I awoke with every rising sun,
and struggled without fail,
through my trials against all of Life’s impedimenta.

With those thoughts resolute in my head,
I knew what had to be done.

After wiping the salty sudor from my brow,
I cracked my knuckles and skittered up the mast.

Comfortably atop Anastasia,
my naked eye scrutinized the totality of the region.

Unwrapping my copper spyglass from its tattered leather housing,
I surveyed the entire area.

Before the tempest’s vehemence and fury,
I had been sailing quarterpoint north from Drake’s port for what seemed like an eon.

Nether the iniquity of Nox,
Neptune tried to end my existence with his canines,
or to be denotative,
tides,
of war.

Nevertheless,
chroniclers would now utter narrations solely of my survival.

Only that means aught more than my intimation of this narrative,
or the value of the parchment it is scrivened upon,
particularly if I was not to uncover Nature’s own,
hopefully nearby land.

With that sentiment now unique and singular within me,
I recounted in my mind’s eye the constellations just prior to Neptune’s assault,
and with my burden of body and soul shifted against the mast,
extracted one of my surveys of the region.

I next spieled the memory of the event over in my mentations,
confabulating with Anastasia when the vision became muzzy,
or the memory too perturbed or disquieted.

Conjointly,
we were able to recreate and revivify,
with my finest approximation mind you,
the spatial relation the Sea’s breath maneuvered us.

Once I fell victim to my quiescence,
I lost track of which bearing we traveled.

Only instead,
trusting in Anastasia,
as deeply and profoundly as I have anyone else in life,
I knew she kept our course strong and unbroken.

Exploiting these things,
my faith,
my science,
and my gut,
I marked out a conceivable region of land mass on my map.

As suspected,
lacuna canvas stared back at me.

I knew more so than most this did not signify all to be insoluble,
but rather,
there was void and nullity,
which simply needed to be discovered.

Far be it for me to incline that I was the first to traverse those channels,
nor would I be the last,
but alas,
what the eyes of those before me appropriated were not a part of the noesis I was privy too.

So as it was presently,
those might as well be vestal,
and pure,
waters.

With a glance,
I once again surveiled the current,
and then it impaled me.

Looking high up in the sky,
both fretful and blase,
I caught sight of a flourishing bird.

Larger in equivalence to a hawk,
with a paler and pallid crown.

Its venter was far more round than mine,
which indicated nesting ground must be near.

The bird was an augury of my deliverance,
and in it’s own freedom,
I would discover my ain salvation.

Without vacillation,
I descended down the mast and took position astern Anastasia’s helm.

Her smooth skin felt comfortable and familiar against my calloused hands.

I positioned the wheel for a steady course in the direction of the bird,
then made my way to the sail,
expanding it fully.

As a father would his daughter,
I kept Anastasia steadfast whilst enabling her to billow her wings,
leading us to redemption.

The rotund canvas commenced to flutter,
and palpitate in the wind,
as if she were diffident and unsure of herself,
coercing me to once more commandeer the situation and tack into the wind.

Sometimes,
no matter how dauntless,
brave,
or inviolable,
a daughter needs her father’s help to guide her.

My sentiment wavered not,
nor did my grip.

For a long while I followed the bird’s trail,
long since attenuated in actuality,
yet still accented in my mind’s eye.

Then,
with an emotion akin to resting in the arms of a loved one,
my actions were honoured with success.

“Does my eye deceive me?

Does it delude me?”
I hollo’d as I once more unwrapped my looking glass.

“Do you see it Anastasia?”

For an instant the sail flickered and fluttered,
a sign of either variable wind or my love’s acknowledgment;
the answer to which I shall bequeath to life’s own poetic reason.

My vision enhanced by the arced glass,
I caught sight of beautiful,
lucullan land.

Even now,
the expanse was filled with a lively,
viridite hue ofttimes found in more tropical environments.

The fervour tumesced within me,
as I agnized our salvation had arrived.

My goal was to,
at present,
advance with circumspection,
so the sand of the sea would not creep ruffianly upon our hull.

With proficient hand,
I channelized Anastasia e’er near to the isle before us.

Conjointly,
we shared a placid jape as tension both waxed and waned with the moving waves.

We were nigh to deliverance from these waters,
yet the enigma of the beauty before us blanketed our fear.

I corresponded with my maps,
and my intuition was affirmed.

This islet had not yet been charted.

The isle was not merely my saviour,
but moreso an augury from the gods.

For why else would a cartographer be brought to uncharted pockets of mass within the incessant and unremitting sea of salt,
sun,
and rain?

Perceptive to the preindication,
I deftly commenced to progress our way ‘round the totality of the islet.

As we traversed its entirety,
near ten lengths forth the coast,
I made notation of the tract I viewed through my spyglass on my map.

For a long while we journeyed,
I,
disregarding the famish manducating within,
and Anastasia,
ignoring the earth’s pale,
salted-blood,
slowly occupying her cabin below.

I would have hastened our approach,
only I cognized the reality woven;
we would both endure,
so in its stead,
I opted for the refuge and solace of knowing the terrain of wherever we would be reposed.

It was then,
when the sight seized my vision.

“Is it truth?”
I hollo’d out into the winds,
as I elevated the arced glass once more.

Squinting out Apollo’s illumination with a sealed left eye,
I endeavoured to focalize in.

“And there it be verity my love!”
I lauded with uninhibited fervour,
as I delineated the deplorable distinctness of a diminished sea-vessel,
landlocked against the isle’s coast.

Somewhat smaller than Anastasia herself,
and far more dilapidated,
the vessel appeared to have been in quietus within its earth-bunkered grave for far too long.

As I regarded it with all volition of hope,
I inferred that in itself the vessel was likely nugatory,
tho’ as salvage for my love,
it was indeed invaluable.

With haste,
and void of contemptuous philosophy,
I manoeuvered Anastasia toward the wreckage.

Upon approach,
all appeared unambiguous to the point I bemused in the arrival,
reasoning aught of the peril.

With lax hand I directed Anastasia,
and thankfully so,
for if my grip were as tauten and unwavering as Heracles,
our fate,
for certain,
would have been equated to that of the vessel we hoped to attain.

For,
at the moment,
scarcely prior to Fate’s damnation,
a gust of wind heaved and surged in potently,
coercing Anastasia’s canvass,
and my own hand,
to the port-side.

“What?”
I gasped aloud,
enraged and surely maddened,
if merely for an instant,
by the gall of the gale.

Tho’,
then I substantiated,
that for once,
Nature acted upon my behalf,
for scarcely a short ways further toward inland,
a coral reef protruded from the sea’s utmost stratum.

Its acute and piercing exterior would have lacerated through Anastasia’s flesh likened to the vehemence of Pausanias’ own steel.

“Neptune’s guile has been foiled by the breath of Lady Luck!”
I skreighed out,
as now my grasp became unshakable around Anastasia’s wheel.

“If not for her timely intervention,
our fate would have been not unlike the salvage of yon and yore lost ship.”

When the moment spare arrived,
I made note of the wreckage on the map,
aware my arrival would not be forbidden,
only delayed.

With concentration duly now where it necessarily should be,
I concentred on an inlet with high enough and aeonian tide,
so as our situation would not become any more grievous.

We continued our way ‘round the coast,
with my watch on the distance,
and Anastasia’s on the depth.

Shortly,
I becharmed the view of a magniloquent cliff,
jutting up from the water,
and in supposition,
protruding just as far downward.

A helical,
crimson red branch hung outward,
casting a thin shadow birthed by the afternoon sun,
into the tranquil and pallid waters.

I ascertained that it led itself to a firm and secure base,
and trailing it with my experience,
saw it followed along a route guiding to surer ground.

“There be our harbour my lady…”
I signified to Anastasia,
and as if on prompt,
she made her way,
shadowing the current.

Within half a breath,
tho’ despite all intent I had not exhaled since spying of the timberline,
we were upon the bouldered coast.

Anastasia proceeded in alongside the corneous,
ossified,
moistened stone as I liberated the weight into the water,
enabling us to hold in pose.

It took only a brief moment to garner the supplies I postulated to be certain the region was innocuous,
for I desire naught of natives or buccaneers to scourge our spoils beneath Artemis’ luminance.

Tho’ I desired to reminisce once more through the darkened hours with my love,
my need for tempestuous fire,
and solid land,
was swelling within me.

Tonight,
we would each be solitaire in body,
yet as e’er,
our bond would be tethered strong in spirit.

Confident in my love’s surety,
I reached out for the branch.

Its bark was smooth,
and its root taut,
for it supported my weight with ease.

Then,
with adroitness astonishing even to myself,
I manoeuvered my way onto the ledge of the rock,
and commenced to examine this unknown,
new realm.

The vessel we saw laid verity to my intellections,
I was surely not the first hither.

Tho’,
the nature of the denizens had yet to be characterized,
and as such,
caution and fearlessness would serve me greater than any fool’s impatience.

Upon reaching a more expansive region,
I nocked the soil to betoken my position.

On the sea,
my skills of navigation were time-sharpened,
but on the solidity of land,
my comfort and guile were far from such.

‘Tis echt,
I did have some proficiency,
but without the salt in my face,
and the wind at my spine,
without the freedom of the waters all around me,
I felt mislaid in spirit,
even if in body my location was defined.

Tho’ eager to be moving on,
I knew I could not mend my love in an eve,
so my preparations for an extended stay were constrained to hap before my desire to leave.

After the tempest,
I fooled myself into reasoning Anastasia would be fine with but some minor tending to,
yet,
my inner coil knew the verity of concealed truths,
the storm had purloined the strength of her composition,
tho’ did not destroy her frame.

I could restore her hull,
fortify her spine and draw out the salty sea,
which still,
so slowly trickled in through her sufferings.

Through fortune,
the lurid,
rampageous torrent damaged her yes,
yet scarcely in a manner that was infeasible to remedy.

In contrast,
she was not even at her worst.

Alas,
tho’ deed may be within the realm of veridical possibility,
the time it would take to complete would likely be longer than the passing of a moon’s revolution.

With that being my existence to come,
I established it more clear-sighted to ready my encampment for the approaching eventide,
and the subsequent nights that would surely follow.

In my scrutiny of the contiguous region,
hope burned fervid,
and virile,
within.

It was obvious,
and evident,
this soil offered more than plenteous supplies;
natural flowing water,
fruits and flora,
and fauna both in the banks,
and in the foliage.

That,
coupled with the wreckage I had seen,
meant my survival was imminent,
as was my love’s.

All I dreaded presently was the terra incognita;
what enigmas this isle had yet to divulge,
only Destiny’s bounded eyes could see.

It required but a momentaneous while for me to clear the region,
and tho’ there was much in evidence of life,
all was indigen to the land and of species not equal to my own.

I feared not being alone,
instead,
I rather yearned for the solitude.

If the aboriginal creatures were felid in birth,
I should not fear their approach.

However,
the vulturous,
predaceous,
raptorial steps of men,
inaudible in the brush,
led solely by an insatiable craving,
no,
lust I would allege,
where the aroma of flesh,
irrespective of sort,
leads men on,
that engendered my worries.

Hunger,
pitted and wrenching.

I had seen the wickedness,
looked into the perpetual void of life’s deepest,
most unfathomable torment,
and I cared not to see it again.

Ravenous.

I feared the deprivation of my own soul,
yet I oppugned my ain ability to turn it away.

I ruminated my own truth,
for naturally I would reject it.

But would I in actuality,
when faced with such penury,
an indigence far worse than even my current situation?

I have witnessed the appetence directly,
and to this breath,
I am in terror of it.

‘Bout a score agone,
I made my way to the shore with Ganges in its heart,
porting near the southern plains to take advantage of the favoured trade privileges.

What I met upon my approach,
I had not been prepared for.

A partial deficit in crops,
which to the local magistrates was reasoned naught unwonted.

It was followed by a grievous and unrelenting drought,
and disquieting accounts were arriving with utterance of rural distress and suffering.

By my arrival,
deaths due to famishment were occurring at an accretive magnitude,
and announcements were made of the survivors feeding on the corpses of the fallen.

Not since the hearsay of such iniquitous and unholy acts afflicted the countryside of the Old World during the Great Famine had there been such a vociferous disregard for the damnation of the phenomenon,
but yet dare I verbalize the necessity for feasting on the pulp being all too discernible.

Scarcely after my arrival,
I was constrained to remain docked by the sire of the tempest I only just endured.

Upon rumination,
I seemed to be capable of delineating each significant moment of my existence to the torrential deluge of savage storms.

That in itself seems to be the root of another narration,
for another eve.

To return to point,
trapped for the nonce likened to my situation presently,
my curiosity had acquired mastery of my senses.

In my youth,
I was much more vivacious,
and awash with verve,
fearing not life,
but in its stead,
in reverence of it.

I had to see if the apologue concerning flesheaters was born of truth,
or disruptive,
riotus,
turbulent legend.

What I uncovered haunts my moonlit thoughts to this day.

Whence leaving port,
I knew I would have an extended,
grievous journey to reach the region in which I sought.

For the fish,
crab,
and other shelled minions of the sea were far too readily forthcoming in my prevalent locale to put forth any veridical hunger.

No,
I had to travel inland,
where the sun and insect had despoiled the harvest,
where the meat and marrow had all fallen ill,
and the sole vestige of nutrient that remained was to be recovered in the laboured breath of man.

I needed to venture where Pestilence and Plague hung their hat,
desolating the soil to such a magnitude,
even the Fallen dared not embark.

I took a two day journey by caravan,
and then another ternion by my ain step,
before I reached the fringe of my boundary.

What stupidity,
what folly laced with foolishness,
blurred and confused my thoughts I deliberate at present in hindsight,
for of course I brought with me my ain nourishments.

To summate,
I was plump and flourishing myself,
and as an outsider,
held no chaste,
moral or emotional bonds to the society that had already far progressed beyond the tabu of norm.

In both my satchel and my skin,
I held a fine feast for those whom I sought out.

What foolishness indeed,
I held entrapped by my innocence!

To return to point once more,
I began moving with circumspection on the third day of my walk,
at leastwise with sufficient sense to agnize the peril,
tho’ I neglected it.

Late that eve,
a diffused,
orange hue,
engulfed the darkening twilight sky,
drawing me to it as a moth to flame.

My senses became charmed,
beguiled,
if not wholly enslaved by the possibilities,
for I had little foresight in what to expect.

As I made my way through the scant copse,
I manoeuvered,
exploiting the same stars in the same sky I had for so long punctuated as a guidepost whilst at sea.

You would opine it to persist,
just in consummate honesty,
it took much time to adapt.

Travel by sea is not as journeying by land,
the latter of which I discovered a natural ineptitude for that I would have ne’er surmised without actually engaging in.

Thusly,
there I was,
hunched and deliberate,
moving with the grace of a lion,
tho’ I knew if discovered,
my form would cursorily ferment to that of the hunted gazelle.

And not knowing the soil,
nor having the experience or ability of survival,
I would surely not subsist.

As I approached,
I did thus cautiously,
for as I have explicated,
my situation was surely grave.

My throat became desiccated,
and my skin tightened as I endeavoured to master my now strained breath.

This was the augury of fear,
which in the zest of my youth I would oft neglect,
until naturally this experience,
which helped alter my persona.

Only I intend to be at that point briefly.

At the tempo of a crawl,
I forged my movements forth,
approaching e’er near the beacon of light.

Upon arrival to the ending of brush and the outskirts of camp,
my eyes widened.

Hovels,
sparse and weather torn,
filled the area.

Their ability to render shelter could merely be delineated by theory,
as upon seeing them I could be sure in practice they were useless.

Dried stick and raddled pelt,
rotted and broken,
was to be its brick and mortar,
tho’ candidly,
I could not envisage it doing any benefit.

Shifting my weight cautiously,
I strained to look deeper into the camp,
to ascertain if I could observe anything more.

At first,
my vantage point was uncharitable,
so I rotated portside to try and post myself in an improved position.

Upon doing so,
my nostrils told me I moved windward,
as the scent of human decay ravaged me.

I tried placing my hand over my face to subdue the odour,
only my actions were futile.

I wished tho’,
the bedevilment would have simply ended there,
but it did not.

For my eyes next caught sight of something I would ne’er have conceived possible.

Beneath the vivid,
lustrous moon,
and blanketed in a quelling heat,
I tried to pace my breath as the fibers of my vesture fastened to my body from the salted sudor,
only I could not do so efficaciously.

For before me,
scarcely a journey in distance,
swallowing the rusted hue I took notice to earlier,
engendered by a fire aflame so glorious,
and so fiercely,
I fancied myself in the kingdom Scheol,
bearing witness to sin in its cruelest,
most unbelievable soma.

Writhing on the earth,
surrounding the ember and flame,
I watched transfixed,
humanity,
or so I enjoined,
falling into the lowest stratum of debauchery.

Prior to that moment,
I could not even ideate such things,
and yet forthwith recalling it,
I question my ain memories.

Bodies upon bodies,
intertwined in a ferine lust.

Scores upon scores,
perhaps more,
for I could not count them wholly.

Their flesh was linked,
without care for gender or age,
in an animalistic delirium,
or dare I say pure euphoric hysteria,
void of all genteel nature.

The sweat and seed lathered the manlike wall as a grumous daub,
binding everyone in concert.

Only as incomprehensible as that may be,
it was not what took me aback.

As any man would,
once faced with the sight of such carnal intimacy,
I could not draw away.

My curiosity kept me rooted,
and centred my vision in concert with an rising swoon within me.

Watching for a long while,
I nearly found myself yearning for their touch,
to lose myself in their sin,
yet that was a fleeting feeling,
a moment so nimble and foregone,
I scarcely knew it was there,
only I would be laying tale to mendacious narration if I did not acknowledge the arousal somewhere within the recess of my psyche.

Withal,
it was then I was reminded of why I was here.

Legends of their intimate transgressions were not what drew me,
and as I gazed on,
the final manifestations of their culminating pleasure was merely foreplay to the apodeictic intent of the evening’s events.

The rhythmic pulsing,
likened to that of a heartbeat,
began to satiate the night.

Initially,
I was marveled by the conjunction of the sound,
yet presently,
realized the dissonance was an intumescent crescendo,
not born of body,
but of tympans from off to the side.

Intonations in an idiom I am foreign to shortly followed.

My eyes remained spellbound on the darkened assemblage,
illuminated softly by the tempestuous fire that was ostensibly intensifying with every passing moment.

I could nearly feel its desiccated warmth upon my cheek,
burning my skin.

Yet in remembrance,
it was likely just the torrid midnight air stifling my core.

Still tho’,
in the moment ‘tween the heat,
the fire,
the chanting,
and the sin,
I wondered if I had left my finite existence unwittingly,
only to be damned to an Inferno I ne’er expected.

A breath passed,
only each moment seemed to be a tortuous eternity.

I yearned to retreat,
to hollo for salvation,
yet I could not.

The Tempter had me within his grasp,
tantalizing my ain hagridden soul.

The pounding of the tympans soon were accompanied by mewls from the interwoven mass.

O’er time,
the whimpers turned to cries,
and cries evolved to screams.

The translucent liquid that bound the group together,
slowly began to turn crimson in semblance.

Initially,
I believed it to be my eyes playing trickery on me,
yet I could not avoid the truth.

The heads of the strong,
the teeth of the mighty,
began to feast upon the flesh of the weak,
and the old.

Carnal pleasure transformed into ferine hunger ‘fore my very eyes,
as I stood witness to the damnation of souls.

Let it be said,
nothing before in any of my travels,
nor since in any of my nightmares,
could match the sickness ‘fore me.

There it was,
as the tales told,
yet far worse.

Man feeding upon man.

Strong devouring weak.

The screams of anguish,
drowned out by the constant,
unwavering,
throbbing of the tympan heartbeat.

The night had come alive in the guise of damnation,
and for the first moment e’er,
I comprehended what it meant to unfeignedly dread for one’s life.

My stomach revolted against the vision,
and my body discharged the fluids and mass roiled within me.

I heaved,
braced myself along the astonishingly cool earth,
then heaved once more.

I reasoned initially,
that my presence would go neglected,
but almost as if picking up on my scent,
if not by the noise created,
then by my ptyalizing bile,
I garnered the attention of bystanders observing the ceremony,
or shall I aver,
feast,
before me.

First a squall,
and then one more,
forced me to regain my senses and still myself.

I retrieved my belongings,
turned and began to race.

Running with a fevered madness,
running in search of a moment to offer atonement for what I just witnessed,
running for my very salvation.

Fleet of foot,
vernal in years,
I was able to develop a tenuous start.

The night was dour tho’,
and the territory foreign.

I was on their land,
in their domain,
and my inherent aptitude could only do so much.

For seemingly an eternity I moved,
without stopping to acquire my breath or rest my bones.

I moved in dread of losing my life,
in fear of losing my soul.

I raced without pace or caution,
and that well-nigh cost my life.

For it was then,
without admonition,
the soil collapsed beneath my step.

I plummeted downward.

The maiden moment seemed to last an eternity,
and in that time I oppugned to where I was descending,
for I already believed I was walking the path of Scheol.

The trice expired tho’,
and my body collided with dirt .

I rammed brutally into the nethermost region of a pit,
nigh a gyrd in length.

As I fell,
my flesh rolled against the side,
as my foot slued along the dirt,
giving way ‘neath me.

I rotated o’er onto my aft,
then my burthen repositioned to the side,
vacillating me ‘round.

And then it came to be.

I impacted heavily upon a significant bit of wood,
cut and sharpened on its jutting end,
piercing my flesh through the side,
back to front.

My foremost instinct was to hollo in anguish,
to shriek out to the empyrean darkness.

Fortuitously tho’,
my reason kept fastened clasp of my consciousness.

If I were to liberate such an outcry,
it would lead the flesheaters directly toward me.

Leastways,
nether the blanket of Nyx or Nox,
whichever to you can so colligate,
would perchance induce the Sin to forgo their hunt,
falsely reasoning my escape,
imparting to me ‘til their dawning rounds to ascertain my unfeigned path to freedom.

Regrettably,
I had not the strength of will,
nor the concentre of nous to valuate my damage properly.

I simply knew this pit rendered my deliverance,
in its own irony,
tho’ it would solely hold true as such for merely a truncated moment.

No,
I had to make way.

Using my best effort focused toward remaining mute,
I drew myself off the tooth of the trap.

Blood ptyalized from my lesion,
as if a geyser,
as the pressure gave way.

Hastily,
I seized the maimed area tightly with my hand.

I next searched my pack for an unsullied fabric,
a segment I saved for any likened exigency,
and placed it dry into my wound.

Shock,
infection,
deprivation of blood,
these fears all ravaged my mind.

Tho’ still,
the conjuncted fate of three was not to be as ghastly as being victim to the life sacrifice.

I did not want my soul to expire on this soil,
soil desecrated by the vile,
by those seemingly banished by He himself.

After taking a heartbeat to seize my breath,
I surveyed my situation.

Wounded,
in anguish,
trapped,
my circumstance seemed grave as I excogitated the possibility of the pit becoming my tomb.

At long last,
I decided upon a course of action.

Exploiting my remaining strength,
which I can aver by this instant to be emphatically and unquestionably enhanced by the fervor of spirit within,
I rived from the jaw of my confine one of the wooden teeth,
and angled it toward freedom.

Then using it as a lift,
I made my way up toward the edge of the pit,
digging soft holes into the dirt to conclude my way.

Astonishingly,
I found it not difficult at all to escape from the entrapment,
and surmised that its purpose was likely intended to be less imprisonment,
and more execution.

Embracing my liberty,
I looked about to be sure it would not be passing.

By fortune of fate,
there were no aborigines within sight or sense,
and so using the same navigation that drew my ego into perdition,
I reversed course to incur the salvation of apodeictic humanity.

To close my segue there,
let me simply convey that I endured,
which should be obvious.

The damage to my side took fore’er to mend,
and the infection I received as consequence well-nigh arrogated my existence.

Nevertheless,
both were tended to by physicians with invariant,
steadfast hands.

In the score since,
I have nary mentioned a thought,
let alone a breath on the moment.

However,
sitting here alone,
on this isle,
I could only sense a kindred trepidation,
birthed by the dread of those events.

And tho’ this isle was lavish and alive,
the fear remained strong.

I faced the threshold to Scheol erst,
I desired not to regard it anew.

Thusly,
retaining those events at the forefront of my intellect,
I concluded by surveying this region.

Felicity tho’ and through,
I found nothing in the vein of peril,
so I settled upon my cleared position to ready camp,
near enough to my love,
in the event of enigmatic mysteries unbeknown,
by both reason and fear.

From atop the cliff,
backed against rock for shelter from the winds,
I set my place.

Eve’s crepuscle,
was coming swiftly ‘pon me.

At long last,
with task and list complete,
I conjured flame to warm my meal,
the first I had in time not remembered.

With my venter modest and snarled,
the sparse broth,
of which I opted to save the heavier contents for when my body would readily receive it,
was more than adequate in serving my appetence,
particularly when pooled with foraged berries from the neighbouring thicket.

As Apollo made his way o’er the horizon,
I forged my means ‘round the precipice to face westward.

It had been far too long,
since I had the opportunity to revel in such a view,
particularly from unmoving placement.

With a delicate zephyr,
ruffling my soiled shirt,
whisking through my hair,
lank from jaw and crown,
I relished in the moment.

The ginger-tinged sky,
void of shadowy fog,
was being overtaken,
by darkness’ manus.

The outreached tendrils slowly made their way athwart the land,
as Apollo melted off ‘neath the heavens.

As the natural transformation was taking place,
shifting everlasting radiance into unbounded obscurity,
I reviewed through my mentation,
the strategy for the forthcoming day.

I would foremost,
and without pause,
need to seek out the beached vessel I took notice to when circling this isle.

By Anastasia’s guide,
such excursion would be elementary.

However,
I wonted not,
to bring further trauma upon my love,
so,
in her stead,
opted I to journey by foot and step.

I imagined such a trek would take considerably longer,
and as such,
would need to commence my departure early in the morn.

Once the vessel’s position had been navigated by land,
I had to next ascertain its condition,
and pray that its degradation would not be to the point of inutility.

And if all were to go well,
a concept in life that ne’er seems to be so,
my following challenge would be to perceive a way to either port Anastasia near the wreckage,
or channel the wreckage to her port.

Regardless,
the challenges that stood before me were daunting.

Nevertheless,
I had been in far worse positions through previous and past trials,
so ‘morrow’s burdens bore little consequence on my nous.

Shadows now blanketing the land with all its depth and steadfast intensity,
I decided time to be judicious and prudent in moment for returning to my encampment,
and invite a serene,
and still,
slumber.

Exploiting Luna’s light as my steer,
and the pinholes in the heavens as my markers,
I skillfully returned to my haven.

The walk back came with a familiar ease,
as if I shared a breath with Diana herself.

I took quite particular attention to this feeling,
as I had never felt this way prior upon terra firma.

No.

In past,
seafaring vessels are where I found solace.

As such,
this innate comfort felt unco,
yet assuasive in the same breath.

I had little understanding of what this isle had in store for me,
but in that moment,
I thought it to be something,
altering.

Within a short while,
I had arrived back,
my navigation made easier by the untiring firelight I had left in my place.

After stoking the flame with yet another brick of branch,
I lastly lay my crown down,
and body within my bedroll.

In hindsight,
and given the fact that it has been longer than Chronos’ breath since,
I cannot recall the duration that passed before I drifted,
tho’ I assure you,
it must have been merely a moment,
for my fatigue could not be overstated.

No,
I was as weary as you are now imagining a man who had been through my trials,
that day and the ones prior,
would be.

What I do recollect specifically tho’,
and in vivid detail,
likely in fact as I have since returned to the night vision at least once per Luna’s visit since,
are the images and tale that ravaged my mind’s eye that eve.

I was but a lad,
tho’ with my full and current consciousness,
trapped in my shell of youth,
in the weakness,
torment,
and confusion.

I awoke as this youthful doppelganger of myself,
on a lean bed,
enveloped entirely in darkness.

My vision tried to adjust,
but it was not meant to be.

For the shadow that encircled was grumous and weighted.

My inhalation was laboured by its force,
while not in a way familiar,
or given to,
smoke of flame.

Instead,
more so as if air thick as stone were pressed flush against my now feeble and frail chest.

I exserted my hands,
small and smooth,
yearning to discover any point of reference.

As I moved to the edge however,
true granite entombed me.

On all sides,
from edge to edge,
wall,
cold,
deep,
and encompassing.

I pummeled hand against stone,
but this vernal exterior was of no match for the barrier,
and within only a moment,
flesh was torn,
and blood flowed.

I looked up,
yet all I could regard was the infinite darkness that suffered my breath.

I tried to prod ‘neath the woven string that I lay upon,
but it was unremitting.

There I was,
trapped and alone,
my mentations captive to my youth,
and my juvenility,
prisoner to the transcendent.

This realization caused my breath to hasten.

Perspiration poured from my flesh as if a river strong.

My inside began to quiver,
as my throat became clinched,
and desiccated.

I tried calling out,
yet no sound echoed.

My silent resonations only further damned what modest control over my sanity I retained.

Without consent from self,
the primal darkness within commandeered,
and began bludgeoning my flesh against the ramparts that confined me.

With every gust,
ache shot through my arms and down my spine.

Tears began to masque my face.

My psyche knew it pointless,
but the fears of puerility were so fiercely ablaze,
I could not garner control over them.

Ultimately,
the pain became intolerable.

Yards of white were now tainted with the blood of my youth,
my crimson life painting the sheets as if the Tempter’s canvass.

I then passed out,
subdued by the unbearable anguish.

As my shell fell under,
my true mind awoke,
and in a scuttle,
and with a gasp
I awoke from my slumber alongside the isle’s contoured breast.

In dread,
I surveyed the area.

My breath was still strained,
and my pulse raced,
likened I imagine to Icarus’ final moment.

It was then,
as I finally began to gain control,
the sensation of seemingly unceasing pain ravaged my intellect.

I hollo’d out abruptly,
cursing God and self,
memory and life even,
as I examined my arms.

Bloodied and swollen.

Discoloured and damaged.

I wished them away,
the arms or the ache,
I did not care which,
but neither fell victim to my prayers.

That night,
I slept not a moment longer.

As mentioned,
on occasion since,
I have awoken in that same state.

Upon my return,
the sheets are still tainted,
tho’ the air is not as dense,
nor the walls as solid.

I find myself able to work them without mercy for the remainder of my slumber,
and no trauma when I waken.

Therein lies the rub tho’,
for I can only awaken after I sufficiently calm myself to sleep within.

Once I do,
and both the psyche of my youth and the mentation of self find a harmonious existence,
only then can I open my eyes once more to reality.

That night tho’,
the suffering I sustained was all too genuine,
and prior to that eve,
the delusion had ne’er been a part of my being,
yet since,
it cannot be shaken.

For the rest of that night I lay there,
incapable of sleep and unable to judder the pain and torment both body and mind were suffering from.

Once Apollo finally began to loom,
I welcomed his warmth and solace.

Mercifully,
the vessel which housed my mentations now was of coriaceous constitution,
so tho’ damaged,
it was tolerable enough to proceed with my day.

And so,
without further thought to the experience,
my discount born of fear and not ignorance,
I ventured forward with my existence.

In time since,
I have exhausted untold time brooding o’er my ghastly night terrors,
and what they are to signify.

Regrettably,
for all my strengths,
comprehension of man’s psyche is not among my skills.

I have depleted far too much time in my own solitude to be an inspector of the human element.

Perhaps in that is where the answer truly rests tho’.

Alas,
may it be for those far more in touch with the sciences of man to harvest insight into my torment,
whilst it is simply my place to play the bard,
and lay the tale.

So,
with the heavens above me cycling back to their illuminated state,
I ply’d my hunger with salted bread,
and wild berry,
whilst preparing my pack.

In only took a short while to prepare myself for the journey,
and barricade the encampment from foraging animal.

The morn’s dew lie thick on the greens of the realm,
and dampened my clothes as I made my way ‘long the natural trails.

I followed close to the coast,
as my destination rested against the water-wall anyhow.

Strapped to my back was the sheath to the lengthy steel I now clutched in my right hand,
enabling clear passage when the brush became too dense.

As I made my way,
the tranquility of the isle was all too eerie.

I saw not a creature scurry,
nor a bird in flight.

I took notice of no rustling of panic,
nor squelches of defense.

In point of fact,
for such an isle bountiful in fruit and greens,
it seemed desolate of any breath,
save my own,
something I determined to be quite curious.

It took all of the morn,
and a dip partly into the ‘noon,
‘fore I at last caught view of my destination.

I advanced from the sou’west,
heading toward the nor’east.

My course had been remarkably simple,
having ne’er lost sight of each step previous,
nor confused by any step forward.

I was thankful to whoever ruled my spirit on that day,
for allowing at least,
that one manageable task.

As I made my way,
it was along a route of even grade,
and after my labour with the steel,
cleared foliage.

This would make any relocation of salvage all that much easier,
an invited circumstance considering the trials I had been through of late.

I merely longed to be on my way,
back with my love,
on the waters that harboured my solace.

Looking frontward,
I perched behind a tree,
wider in girth than my own frame,
and pressed my mass against its rough,
and crumbled,
bark.

I opted to sit for a moment,
silent as my own laboured breath would permit me leastways,
and wait.

Wait for signs of peril.

Wait for signs of life.

Tho’ neither came.

Beyond the break in green was a diminutive barrier of timber,
washed in from the sea.

Past that,
minuscule grains of sand merged into a halo of minute gravel and kelp before the water began.

The seashore was beautiful,
tranquil,
and serene,
as if charmed by the whisper of Dionysus’ breath.

With all seemingly harmless,
I cautiously ventured a step to the fore,
and then followed it with another,
calmly.

My awareness was heightened,
keen to glean any category of hazard,
be it conscious or not.

Verity be told,
I was just as disquieted by a snare in the sand,
as I was brute in the brush.

For since there was a vessel,
likely there would be a crew,
captain,
or survivor.

And if not,
then likely more there would have to be indigenous threats,
so far of which I had seen no sign.

Either way,
this vessel did not depart port on its own,
and the obscurity of its legend had yet still to be defined.

By the moment my mentations were finalized,
I had arrived at my destination.

Still no signal or sound of fury bristled,
so I lightened the duties assigned to my sixth sense,
and focused on examining the wreckage before me.

“Yes,”
I uttered under a low breath,
as I moved my hands slowly,
carefully,
‘long the still firm wood of her hull,
“You shall compliment Anastasia well.”

I made my way to the stern,
which with the tide out,
was resting in wet sand,
but no immediate water.

From the rear,
the shell was too dilapidated,
worn,
and unfit for use.

However,
in my scrutiny I caught sight of the vessel’s name,
Raine,
and as I whispered it to the breeze,
for a moment I could well-nigh hear the anguished cries of a lost crew.

For a long while I examined the vessel.

Its mass was slighter than that of Anastasia,
and much more manageable for a solitary crew than even my ain love.

I made my way within,
staggered to find not an article of man’s vestige had been left behind.

No garments or provisions,
instrument of intellect,
or beacon for aid.

I found this unforeseen,
for it meant Raine’s chattels had either previously been pirated,
or removed by their lawful possessor and taken away.

As I maintained my search,
I studied the aggregated damage to the vessel,
a bit taken back.

By now,
much of the hull on the starboard side toward her stern had been ravaged by the salty tides,
seemingly having been here a long while.

Given tho’ the spoil,
which seemed as if caused by a cleave from the coral of the sea,
it was rather negligible,
and with the adjacent driftwood,
and even minimal supplies,
should have been effortlessly serviced by any capable sailor.

It caused me question,
who would captain such a vessel,
one that could be so effortlessly overcome by the winds and storm of Neptune’s tempest.

I would balance it to be either one of great skill,
or one severely lacking in the proper proficiency,
and upon my primary examination,
would wager it to be the latter.

With all this in consideration,
I moved to the edge of the vessel,
stood tall on her side,
my hand gripped tight upon her weathered mast,
and surveyed o’er the shoreline.

It was then,
off in the distance,
further downward in which I had not yet been,
I caught sight of netting,
large in bulk.

Curiosity perked,
I resolved Raine should hold firm,
and Anastasia fine for the time,
that it would merit the brief voyage to further enquire what lie afar.

Thus,
I plunged my weight to the sand,
and with prudence no longer at my forefront,
quickly made my way to the roped netting I witnessed from the ship.

My hurried steps imparted a wide and deep trail in the grains beneath me,
but the thrill,
enthusiasm,
and anticipation of man’s salvage forced my rationale to be neglected.

My steps seemed to trudge along no matter how fleetly I attempted to move,
and my breath billowed with every metre I travel,
tho’ it detered me not.

Upon reaching my destination,
the purport of the netting became obvious to me,
if not ill-conceived.

It seemed to been used in effort,
in attempt even,
to capture sea creatures,
fashioned homemade,
with gaps far too spacious to seize anything of meaning.

It nearly made me chortle,
but then my thoughts drifted to the elegiac soul who felt,
and likely hoped,
this would render his own deliverance.

What uncertainties I did have were now fleeting,
as my emotions shifted now toward concern.

The notion was strong within that whoever tailored this netting
knew very little ‘bout marine survival,
and would perhaps be in need of assistance.

Therefore,
with that deliberation premiere in my nous,
I scrutinized the area for proof of life.

Tho’ I caught sight of no marks,
or trails in the beach,
I did take note to broken away brush at the foliage’s break,
and swiftly made my way up.

From there,
I noticed a trail,
fashioned of step and weight,
and made my way ‘long.

I likely should have been more wary in my advance,
but my concern was not for self,
but instead for Raine’s own love.

I pursued the path,
and soon was upon a clearing from the trees,
and brush.

Before my eyes,
a small encampment had been crafted,
cluttered,
and now in disarray.

I hesitated,
listened for signs of life,
but as had been quite common ‘pon my arrival,
only unstill silence permeated.

If not for Zephyr’s howls,
the crashing of the waters,
I may have thought myself deaf.

But back to point.

By encampment,
what do I mean?

Let me clarify,
to give your own intellect the ability to envisage my ain recollections.

The locale was clear,
with dirt and short grass circled about.

Trees,
thick forestry in detail,
encircled it to my path,
with a small trail leading ‘way from the inverse side.

Within the encampment was a small,
canvas shelter,
triangular in form,
and staked to the soil.

A line ran from it to a neighboring tree,
and garments hung from that line.

I ventured forward,
now a bit more cautious,
in control,
so I could seize a closer glint of what was on the other side of the obstructions.

“Egad!”
I then suddenly shrieked,
devoid of facility to control as my stare centered.

My body buckled as I took a step back.

I twisted my crown in abhorrence,
dread,
and terror.

For just a short distance ‘fore me,
lie a man.

However,
the man ‘fore me was not as one would suppose.

His remains lie still,
silent,
whilst his soul had since departed this realm.

Now,
given my exploits o’er the past,
gazing upon a corpse should not have troubled me.

Yet it did.

For this carcass was unlike any I had e’er seen.

With caution,
care,
I braved my way forward.

My curiosity perked,
I needed to,
I wanted to,
perceive more.

True I could run,
but this vestige would be burned in my mind’s eye fore’er now.

I simply had to uncover more.

I stepped frontward,
and the odour of decay,
recognizable to my senses as you now know,
ravaged me.

I could not only smell it within my nose,
but actually taste it ‘pon my tongue.

Bitter and rancid.

Circling ‘round the corpse harboured a mass of flies and gnats,
feasting on the decay.

Moving closer,
I further scrutinized the body.

It was outstretched ‘long the dirt and grass,
resting beside a fire pit that looked as if it had been used lately,
if not recently.

The crimson life that once flowed within this man had made its way along the ground,
following the slightest grades,
and pooling together as if miniature oceans of thick,
viscous death.

I have reserved the most ghastly,
gruesome,
and grisly part for last tho’.

For I cannot opine what your own thoughts are as to the cause of such horrific misery.

Thus,
I shall force your curiosity to wait not a moment longer.

This man lay there,
on his back as I had mentioned,
with hand on hilt,
and blade pushed deep into skull and flesh.

I wish I were Dante,
so I could weave the horror for you more proficiently,
but ‘las,
I am not.

Nevertheless,
I can do my best to let you know,
that if you were to conceive an image as dreadful as a daemon’s darkest delight,
this would be worse.

If you were to observe a sight so repugnant it made you churn,
this would be worse.

If you were to contrast tale of your own shadowed sins to Beane’s,
this would be worse.

Yet needing more,
I moved in close,
inclined myself down,
and tried to push through the sickness of sight,
of smell.

On my knees,
I examined closer.

‘Tis echt,
his blade was plunged deep,
breaking through his brow.

Peculiarly,
his hand was roped to the hilt,
covered in his own blood,
plainly spit from the gash.

His mouth was malformed in a monstrous position,
as if ‘tween scream and mirth.

“What madness?”
I found myself whispering out,
“would bring a man to such fate?”

I searched ‘round the remains as best I could,
to see if there were signs of other steps,
or indicant of foul play.

And even tho’ my skills in such inquiry were novice at best,
all seemed at rest.

By now,
the swarm had become too much.

For I noticed it was not just the winged variety that were feasting,
but the slithering as well.

I was a bit surprised no superior creature had yet found its way here,
as the odour of such spoiled decay and demise usually tugs at their wanton appetites.

That enigma tho’,
simply fell as yet another with this isle.

As that thought escaped my psyche,
my gaze peered downward and caught sight of a small leather wrapping,
tied taut against and shielding,
a tattered assemblage of parchment.

A journal it seemed.

I felt an anticipation rise within,
for perhaps through his chronicle,
this man could offer clue,
or insight e’en,
to his demise,
or his ship,
as I imagined him to be Raine’s passenger,
or to his time here on this isle.

I knew not what I would find,
or if it be better I not know.

Nevertheless,
when one has the opportunity to receive a dead man’s tale,
it should be done so with the attention of all the senses.

Lest his fate becomes your own…