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.
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.
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 .
I noted that The Little Mermaid, as she is titled on her blog, liked several of my posts. I also noted that she has a huge following. I am envious. I am a writer. Writers write because they want people to read what they write. I have nowhere near the followers that she has. Can I be envious? I think respectfully envious is appropriate. She obviously is hitting the mark as is Opinionated Man, another blogger with huge outreach. So, what is the magic?
I don’t know. I am trying to figure that out.
In the meantime I will watch and read their posts and be amazed at what they have to say and also that of the people who comment on their posts.
Here is a link to one of The Little Mermaid’s posts: