Glass Sword » Skeleton

The Hero

lqz — Mon, 09 Apr 2007 01:36:10 +0000

When I meet death, I will fight her with a glass sword. So I wrote. Never once did I suspect that death would not come for me at all.

A young man with a glass sword in his hand stood before me. Someone had read my words and failed to understand their meaning.

He attacked and the sword was as affective as it was meant to be. Reason had stepped a side letting the blade strike me.

The hope his sword embodied escaped as the pieces crashed downward. There would be no hero’s return, his life now gone.

Red

lqz — Mon, 05 Mar 2007 04:58:50 +0000

Blood is a warm comfort, begging for mercy as it slips on my bones. As it drips from my hands I know I am one body closer to completing my work. I would beat every drop from them if I could, it is a pleasure to be red from head to toe.

Testify

lqz — Sun, 25 Feb 2007 01:18:14 +0000

I set my new witness free. Sure that he is imprisoned by the knowledge that only time stands in between our next meeting. Filled with fear that seeps from every inch, the look of him is a story in it self.

The story I want told is the one in him. He will testify to the truth that now holds him hostage. Letting is kinsmen know that brigands make poor shepherds that no obstacle can stand in my way.

Sighting of this witness will be the dawn of reality. Faith placed in charms and rituals sold by confidence men, will be proven misplaced. They will be imprisoned by their fears, leaving them grasping at hope like it is air.

Miny Moe

lqz — Sat, 10 Feb 2007 02:34:24 +0000

I chose eight witnesses to see that my story is told. For to long there has only been seven. Robbed was I by monsters, by the kinsman of the three that cower before me. A replacement is needed with a story worth telling and these sheep have a story I want told.

The first stuttered, so was laid to rest. Left with an Accuser and a Bystander I rocked my finger between them. Each making their case for why it should not be them that falls. Neither offered his life for the other. Their only concern was diminishing their roll in my hanging.

The child’s rhyme I used for the choosing. Did not dictate the movement of my finger only when it would stop. When the rhyme came to its end, the Bystander found him self it. He continued to beg but I have no need for nine. I took his life, his friend took his roll and did nothing.

Payment

lqz — Mon, 29 Jan 2007 00:33:50 +0000

A flock that strays is a flock that chooses to abandon its shepherd. When they find themselves found by a lion. No wish, no matter how sincere can bring them back to the fold and protection of their master.

This flock now wishes, not aware wishes are words shape by to much hope and not enough meaning. Wishes can travel no farther than the sound that made them. An echo from those left to the mercy of their choices.

It is time to slaughter this flock and take it to market. Another payment to the earth for the time spent at the end of my rope. My every step could never be enough. The blood of this flock a gift, every drop an attack on it.

Brigands

lqz — Mon, 22 Jan 2007 02:34:33 +0000

The villagers cluster like sheep. Bright against the darkness it is as if they call to me. This set had plans not to be taken easily. They found brigands, better called fools, to place as an obstacle before me. Upon the hands of these fools I could smell the gold and silver they counted but will never spend. I see them as I see their benefactors — unworthy of living. They had no higher principles in play, they did as they were paid. The quality of their honour showed in the quality of their blood, for it easily dripped away.

Wandering Stars

lqz — Thu, 11 Jan 2007 04:43:35 +0000

The darkness of my endeavour has created a pretender. It lacks the cool feel and comforting embrace of the original. Forgive those two errors and you have a night sky like any other. In it the wandering stars that light my way. I can watch them as they stray. They gather and scatter letting the stories of my witnesses find their way.

I shall pick every star from it, leaving it black, leave it to fade. When I am done only the constant stars will keep their place. I know one from another and there is no chance of mistake or escape. The pretender has an advantage in that sun light can not chase it away. The harsh light of day, can beat me down but can not hide them away.

Clean

lqz — Tue, 26 Dec 2006 12:32:11 +0000

It should have destroyed me the moment it had me. The Earth felt joy, but I am sure the shaking came from the pain I caused. Swallowed again, this time on better terms for it. The water had rushed away trying to keep me from entering. Neither it or I considered the power I handed over by stepping into the river.

Reason withdrew, water will not compress and I needed to wash this blood that clings off myself. The Earth saw it’s moment and tried to use the river to crush me. It moved slowly to ensure it enjoyed dissolving me. Water pushed into my bones doing precious little to relieve the burning within. Without a doubt it had me.

Time was on my side, the Earth should have acted quickly. Nothing boiled the water that found it’s way in. Reason returned and pushed the river aside, leaving dry land for me to walk away from its bed. For my trouble the law man’s blood had washed away. It was good to be clean even though I can still feel the stains.

Near Death Experience

lqz — Tue, 19 Dec 2006 21:26:18 +0000

The glimmering lights stopped glimmering. The weight is gone, replaced by something grinding, trying to shear my bones apart. It seeps in, the poison tries to burn it away unwilling to be extinguish. Devils and angels start questioning, demanding an explanation in terms of right from wrong. I will not justify. I am justified, my actions are in the name of vengeance. Right and wrong is the logic used by those in need of a path to do or not do a thing. My path is clear, guided by a sky that is always night filled with stars I will extinguish. In my certainty I find no room for fear. My skeleton is indivisible, my task inevitable, this attempt to destroy me will fail.

Lost

lqz — Sat, 09 Dec 2006 23:35:37 +0000

Without Reason, who am I?
Without Nothing, to much am I.
Lost am I, without this weight upon or the poison within.