The Struggle

“Hmm… I see we might have a visitor Boedee... you are the wise owl... who do you think he is?”
Boedee Zaffa the Wise replies with a standard owl hoot, causing an eyebrow of the Old Man to raise in acknowledgement of the sarcastic pun… “real funny, Boedee”… Boedee ruffles his feathers and commences to preen them…
…the Old Man, sitting in a windowless study, uses a twig to tickle the dancing flame of a lonely candle... to light his pipe… puffing away... creating rings of smoke that seem to purposely float over to irritate the owl, who is perched on the back of one of the chairs... and now takes his turn to raise an eyebrow and return a sarcastic look at the man with the twinkling hazel eyes ... that are transfixed on the emerald green globe which is being held in the clawed hands of a tiny Gargoyle who is squatting on the long, rectangular oak table... covered with antiquated scrolls and books… other assorted writing utensils that a scribe would have as company … all covered in a crystalline sparkling dust…

*the Old Man watches as the stranger fiddles with the dagger and with what appears to be a magicians trick, makes it disappear*

…On top of the ancient keep, the grinning Gargoyle stares into the night, watching the shivering stranger slowly placing one foot in front of the other…

It has been many moons since any of the Gargoyles that call the ancient keep home have seen anything… natural…

The Awakening

*In the distance… the fingers of the One scratch through the fabric of Night, casting the light onto a mournful stage ... with an ancient keep as a destiny to be reached by a bedraggled character seen by the audience of the shadows ... and maybe the “Old Man”... as he watches the drama unfold in the cystal sphere, while he smokes on his pipe ... and sips a personal brew*

...I do not know what attacked me... the gentle rain that wakened me ... with it's pitter patter nudges ... left no visions in its puddles ... nor could I hear a message in the howling wind ... that I could distinguish... other than a strange laughter...

...my mind seems to be sinking to my feet ... like sand in an hour glass ...so sick ... like part of my soul is dying ... with a rhythm set by the pounding hammers in my head

*feebly cleans blade of a dagger on tattered cloak*

What ever it was that came at me, out of the DarKness, was very swift...
I managed to gouge out one of it’s eyes, I know that for sure because it is still in my clenched hand ... a souvenir of my struggle ... a reward for being lucky ... that being was unnatural, a creature like I have never seen.
The keep, I must force my weighted legs ... which are burdening me with their lack of desire to move my ass…

*in the distance, the Fingers of the One reach down and scatters the DarKness turning night into day {needs editing 12/11}… and thunder roars in the distance… echoing into a future time… and becomes the sound of music … known as …*
HEAVY METAL

*one of the Gargoyles perched in a lonely corner atop the keep opens it’s eyes … and grins…*

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

It is a cold, lonely night .... as I lay shivering in the shadows of the moon. I do not understand what has happened to me... but I don't like it... I must find shelter from the brewing storm, and soon... up ahead is a keep... maybe there I can find refuge.