The Great Winged Assassin Aleen sat like a large boulder perched on the side of Mount Bastion across the valley from where The Castle Ur stood. His vantage point overlooked the Sea of Rife and the Companion Halls of Medore. He took a deep breath in and listened as his leathery skin expanded and then exhaled slowly, meditatively. Then, again, a slow inhale, then slower exhale.
He had been practicing this form of breathing for years before a kill as it relaxed him and placed him in a state where little affected him. He drifted outward and inward at the same time moving away from his central core to a point where he was no longer attached in spirit. Time would pass and he would breath in deeply and then slowly allow his wings to unwrap from around his bat-like body startling those nearby at the unexpected exposure of a muscular frame hidden there concealed beneath a skin so black that he could stand silently and without movement during the night next to a victim or military guards and never be seen until he struck.
He was deeply feared as an assassin and plan for his removal had been in place for over a year, but he had struck first leaving not one council floor covered with spilled blood, but three of them. He had moved so quickly that those killed were never able to leave any message to alert others of his actions. He was a master of treachery and his intended kills sat nearby completely absorbed in a juvenile conversation about how famous they would all become in the near future. Not one realized their future would end that night
Chapter one: How do I love thee, let me count thy bruises.
He stood in front of her rubbing the knuckles on his right hand staring down at her where she sat on a wooden chair in front of him. He growled as she reached up to where blood trickled from the bruised flesh below her right eye. Touched it, saw the blood, then lowering her arms clasped her hands in front of her on her lap. Slowly she looked up at him with tears racing down to her chin. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he voice trembled. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The year was 1926. She was just 19 and he was 27.
He slapped her hard jerking her head to the left. She slowly recovered. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“So, my mother and sister are liars?” Blood stood against the vows of marriage. Sometimes blood is stronger, and in this case it was. “They saw you at the theater”
“No,” her voice wavered, “no they, if anyone it was Virginia and all I did was acknowledge an old school friend.”
“Who you then went into the movies with.”
“He had his girlfriend with him”
“You sat with him.”
“I sat with them, not with him,” she said her face hurting her badly. Her tongue slipped sideways and found a tooth had been dislodged.
It was just an hour before dawn when a lone figure slowly picked a path through a field of boulders that lay at the base of what was called by some to be the South Tower of The Castle Ur. As the figure went slowly walking there approaching the outer wall of the tower, a second slipped out of the dark and approached the first.
“Nadine?” the second quietly spoke, almost in a whisper. The voice was deep and rumbled like the sound coming from the distance thunder storms that never seemed to leave the land all around the mountain upon which sat the castle itself.
The first stopped walking and from beneath the hood hiding the facial features of the person there within a higher pitched voice answered simply and quietly, “Yes, Great King Mont, it is me.”
Mont flipped back the heavy dark hood exposing his rounded and bearded face. “Nadine,” his voice took on a degree of excitement. “Nadine, my sweet and dearest friend, how I have longed to see you these passing months.” He opened his arms and took several steps to close the distance between himself and Nadine.
“As have I.” the other answered softly and raised arms beckoning the first openly to be embraced. “Come to me and hug me like we have in the days past. Show you still care for me and rub my back to relieve the pain from the slow climb from below to here.”
Mont stumbled on the loose footing of gravel and stone but recovered and began to close the distance when he suddenly caught the glimpse of a steel blade concealed in the other’s hand. He stumbled again but came to a stop less than five feet from the other there in the slowing ebbing darkness as the Sun was coming up bring dawn and announcing a new day.
Nadine stepped forward and thrust the blade deep into Mont’s body as the man looked down in shock and then up as the assassin pushed back the hood to reveal their face.
Mont stepped forward and grabbed the shoulders of the other party as she pulled out the knife and reinserted it back into Mont’s body again and again and again until he dropped to his knees and then fell over quite dead.
TWISTED: FAIRY TALES FROM A DARK WOOD
(This isn’t your basic children’s book so beware.)
The land of Darkwood was bathed in a constant drizzle. It had been so for over a hundred years. Once the island had been a place of beauty, but then….the terror came. It arrived in the middle of the night and when it did it came as a destroyer, touching all that was beautiful with an angry curse. There was nothing that could be done, or so it seemed, for anyone who even looked as being opposed to the rule of Talia was imprisoned or executed immediately upon her request. How strange it seemed, she had been the most loved Princess in the land and then the change took place and she went from being good to being the most evil woman ever known. There were sections of The Castle Ur that reeked of the smell of blood; some said she bathed in the blood of young women believing it was good for her skin. There was always a parade of girls coming but never leaving. Even the Seven Dwarfs that were always by her side seemed a bit, er, put out about the whole issue but they too risked their lives if any insolence was determined to have occurred. As it was the King of the Dwarves was a prisoner in the South Tower and had been there for six months. But on this day he was allowed to go for a walk…..alone.
Stiffness of mind can be a problem and should be noted to tend along with a great deal of anger. I deal with anger. I have problems with anger. I can be very un-nice with anger when it overtakes me and lately it has been near me too much. I think it is just that the world is moving at such a strange pace and what I hope for is not actually happening but the reverse is. Maybe that holds true for you as well. In any case being catatonic would be a problem not only in Milwaukee but in Bradenton as well.
I wonder if people can really change or is it just backwash that we get when we think we changed and then something happens that drags us back into all the same shit. I don’t know. I just known that when looking at my life I can see too many mistakes.
Its a new day and hopefully a day where anger doesn’t creep in to my life or yours.
Oh, and I have never been in Milwaukee but I understand they brew a very fine beer there.
So, there you have it. Breakfast in a world where many have nothing to eat and there are those who blame us for that tragedy and yet the “old world” was established for a very long time and mostly lives in pre-Christian terms. America became independent, went to work, used capitalism, not socialism or communism and definitely not under a dictatorship government to get to be where we are today. Yet, there are those who want to toss all that away out of fear that someone might come along and kill them. Well, get real people, there are people out there that will kill you just because that is the goal and sucking up to them isn’t going to save your ass but challenging them and fighting for what we have here will at least give us a chance. If you believe that socialism or communism is great then for goodness sakes don’t let the door smack you in the ass going to where those economies are. You want to live in a dust bowl with killers running around then go, but please don’t expect everyone else to follow your hysteria while you drop your drawers so you can be violated by thugs.
Death speaks thru the window of the train
While we travel going nowhere from the past to the present
in our clothes from best to worse and back again
looking for the answers to the riddle of questions
wanting to know who the Three Stooges represent
in our lives spent deceived by the world surrounding. 5.23.17
Why is it that we teach children to lie? Why do we tell them lies? Santa Claus! Adults think it is cool to tell children all about Santa Claus. Kids get around older kids and the older kids berate the younger kids making them feel foolish and then the heartbreaking truth is revealed that the adults … parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles….lied to them. And you expect them to learn to be truthful doing this? What about the Easter Bunny and egg hunts? …..bunny = eggs?
Standing naked on the lawn
alone he was one sunlit dawn
the grass beneath his shoeless feet
cut like broken glass in the shimmering heat
with no one for miles around in sight
memories screamed in silence and turned to flight
while each separate living haunted thought
echoed off mental walls of stone
trapped there, held there apart from others’ sight
while caught up in a wind lifted moan
he stood naked beneath an unmoving sun
that dried his flesh and burned his bone
his life before him seen in a looping rerun
while he stood naked there on a grassless lawn
alone, he was, one sunlit dawn .
by improve everywhere
Do you like poetry? I like poetry. My dogs have always like poetry. Have you ever heard me read poetry? How about if I sang it to you? Any chance for that? Come on where’s the support here, there, over there. It has to be here someplace, why else would I write poetry? Happy poetry, sad poetry, nonsense poetry, and serious poetry. Ok, you can just sit and read then…..but if you do make it MY poetry that you read: The Widow’s Cliff and Other Poems on Amazon, or for a very select few, Rabbit in a Box also on Amazon.
You do want to support me, don’t you. Of course you do. Amazon, Gordon Kuhn….come and buy a book! My dog thanks you.