Those Who Stayed Behind

History books do not always tell the tales of old. Only stories from the victors of war, boastful half-truths and the like, manage to be passed for centuries. Ancient civilizations crumbling underneath the sword and the shield and the iron fists of tyranny. Those stories may be lost among the commonfolk but small tribes still pass them down from wrinkled lips to eager child smiles.

Fantasy has absorbed the truths into myth, deceiving those who would deny our existence. No longer do we bear the pointed-ears of our ancestors and yet our grace and connection to all that lives has not wavered, never changing, just shifting. Long, flowing robes of silk exchanged for modern-day attire. And although our weapons may have changed from sharpened steel to sharpened tongues, our message of peace and unity remain steadfast.

Denying the enemies of old is folly. Today they do not bear wings like a hurricane or claws like spears, but the fire of the dragons clad in human flesh burn brighter and hotter than ever before. Just as the times change, physical warfare wages far from rich lands, but the Elven harbingers remain scattered across the globe, witnessing the tragedies of our day. Bombs explode across the land, tarnishing it with death and destruction. Guns extinguishing lives in the blink of an eye. Our fate is to heal as we have always healed. We may be few, but our power is infinite when we bond together through the energy of the unseen.

History books do not always tell the tales of old. White cities glittering against forest like starlight and songs sung only seem like a lifetime ago. Troubadours and minstrels traveling by foot, brandishing lute or harp or pan flute. Peaceful waterfalls and babbling brooks through bridges and white stone paths, dusted with colored leaves of Autumn. Hues of pink and purple flowers flow through the air, carrying scents of Spring. Summer and Winter stay mild in the land of the Elves, a light snow or warm summer rays. Animals of all sizes and ages walk alongside my kin. All of this. All peace.

Races that have been all but forgotten wandered the lands winding dirt paths. The short but strong and stubborn Dwarves. The small but stealthy and loyal Hobbits. Our kind entered this world to usher it into peace, but Men’s greed and sheer numbers have proven a challenge. Persuasion over generations have only softened hearts of the few, and many of my kind have grown weary. Elders say that this world no longer belongs to the Elves. The time of Men is among us.

One day I may join the countless others who have taken the ships to the West. One day I may walk those marble steps to the docks, the scent of salt water and sound of lapping waves to greet me. In a place not known to those who do not know the way, I may go when the sea calls me. For now, I must continue the work of so many before me.

History books do not always tell the tales of old.

Sorry for the long delay in posts! Unfortunately, I have deleted my Facebook account so I no longer have my page active. The past few months have been very emotionally consuming and I’m taking my writing day-by-day. I’m hoping to get back into working on Book 2 of The Wanderer Trilogy soon!

Selling Poetry

Would people be interested in purchasing my poetry? I’m thinking about offering personalized poetry or some sort of poetry-in-art for additional income on the side. Valentine’s Day is coming up, would anyone be interested? If so, what would strike your fancy??

Check out my Facebook Page to message me directly from there if you’re interested!

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(DWI) Driving While Inspired

Years have passed and they are becoming bolder. Doubtful that they’ve realized it yet, but I’ve noticed them. A passing glance. A long stare. They’ve underestimated me… well, all of us. Why they have chosen to follow me? I have some educated guesses, but I do not want to make any conclusion without evidence.

My story does not matter. How I grew up is irrelevant. What matters is the present, the now. At least, that’s what I believe. I flew threw the ranks of my brethren because of my mentality. Hundreds, no… thousands of contracts completed by my hands. Dozens of new bloods, trained by my sweat. My initiates are the elite, nothing less. But through my skill, I have alarmed the enemy. Not just the victims of contracts, you see… but the ultimate enemy. The Reformers.

I shudder at the name. Fear? No, it isn’t fear. It’s the chill of excitement. The very same spine-tingling feeling that scatters up my back before the plunge. They have attempted to end us for a century, at least. But we have persevered and become stronger. Secret wars are fought behind the everyday humdrum that the general public seems so intoxicated by. Monotony is not in our nature as assassins, and they are definitely not in the nature of the Reformers.

Understand, we are the silent justice that keeps the tethers of society from fraying. Mysterious circumstances surrounding a death? Us. A famous criminal goes missing? Us. We are like a shadow, existing in the space between reality and fantasy.

But unlike a hundred or so years ago, when my ancestors created this force, there was little stopping them from achieving their tasks. DNA testing was non-existent. Social Media was not even a concept. The only thing that went ‘viral’ was actual viruses. They could kill with discretion and ease. Now, we must be more calculated, more careful, and more intelligent about our contracts. To me, those who are a part of the revolution now are much more skilled than those who came before us.

It was only natural for The Reformers to target us. Only because I am such a high-ranking member of my kin that I am their first prey. I have been underestimated all of my life, why stop now? I laugh at the thought of their plans, continuously foiled by my skill. Bodies discovered months after they dare to delve too close to me. Some, I let be. But when they risk contact with me, I must finish the job. Each one is the same, dumb and slow. It is not even fun anymore.

I admire the one who has been following me for the last seven days, three hours, and twenty seven minutes. Much bolder than the others, but louder than most. I’m toying with him, you see. I’m interested to see what he does. How does he go about killing his target? Perhaps I could learn a thing or two about their secret society.

This man is my age, but half the skill. And that is being generous. It was on my drive to work today that I finally met the boy. His hands shook, as he tried to conceal it. I notice everything. I always have and always will.

He sat up from the back seat, no telling how long he had been laying there. I could hear him breathing – mouth breather. Noted.

“If you want my opinion.” Pretty sure the poor boy jumped out of his skin when I spoke. “You should not enter my car until right before I close the door. That way you aren’t waiting all night.”

“I-I-I’m here to-” he stammered.

“Kill me,” I laughed. “Good luck with that. I doubt you’d be more successful than the ones before you. I’m sure you know about them?”

“No…”

“Oh boy,” I sighed. “They’re withholding information from you. What a shame… You were dead before you stepped in here. I see you don’t even have a weapon. Must’ve forgotten it, have you?”

He stopped, patted his pockets frantically, and then his face drained of all color. I tisked him.

“Not a very good Reformer, are you? Not that it matters. No one knows your name.”

We were at our destination by that point. The boy believed that I was going somewhere else, but I wanted to show him something. Bumpy, gravel roads were waiting us. The pasture smelled of death. I pulled out my handgun and pointed to the door and instructed him to get out. Know that my gun is only for show – I like to be much more… personal, but he didn’t know that.

“Where are we?” he gasped as the fog cleared somewhat and the bodies came into view.

“A recent site of our war,” I explained. “The war that has been for nothing. Only death pervades the years. Still, we fight.”

“I don’t understand -”

“Look kid,” I said. “I don’t want to kill you. You have done nothing wrong except choose the wrong side. History never remembers the losers.”

“How do you know we won’t win?”

“Because I know the skill of the Reformers, and the skill of my own people. They feed you lies about us and then expect you to be able to take one of us down. How do you hunt without knowing your prey?”

Again, he could not find an answer. I just nodded. My thoughts of murder started to arise. Adding him to the pile of bodies was one option, but turning him against The Reformers seemed more provocative.

“I’m going to do something that I have never before done.” I could see the lump in his throat when he swallowed. “I’m going to give you a choice.”

 

A Message to Writers

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When the world seems to crumble down around you, write.

When you feel that all motivation has left you, write.

When you wake up before the sun and you want to go back to sleep, write.

When you are up late and the stars are your only companion, write.

When you are stressed and when you are scared, write.

 

Trapped within your mind are infinite possibilities.

Worlds orbiting stars with life of its own.

Indescribable beauty that will only wither and die if unspoken.

Do not be afraid of your power, your ability.

Do not fear what makes you unique.

 

Write what makes you cringe,

Write what makes you sick to your stomach,

Write characters made from everything you want to be,

Write characters made from everything you are,

Write what makes your heart bleed.

 

You do not have to end every story with happiness,

For not every tale has a happy ending.

Just as in life, good does not always vanquish evil,

Heroes die a valiant death, fighting for what they believe in,

Never to see what they died for, crumble before their eyes.

Break the boundaries set by society and challenge their minds

Break the round hole that they force you to fit in.

Break the bonds of conventional writing and show them something new.

Break the words scrawled across notebooks for years,

Break the sentences, the chapters, break them to their rawest state.

 

But whatever you do, do not let them tell you to stop.

Do not let them tell you that you cannot do it, that it won’t make money.

Take their words and twist them into your stories,

Fight with them in a fantasy world and destroy them.

Just whatever you do, do not stop writing.

These are the things I no longer wish to understand.

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These are the things I no longer wish to understand.

Murder. The ease, for some people, to pull the trigger of a gun at an innocent victim. Sometimes, it’s worse. A cold expression on the face of a serial killer when recounting the grotesque details of each murder as if they were simply a tick-mark in a notebook. A simple disregard for a life.

Genocide. Manifest Destiny by a god or gods that deemed one people superior over others. Still, their god is ‘merciful’ they say. This imaginary being is somehow all good, but allows, nay, encourages the massacring over the earth. Sentient beings, slaying one another in the name of religion, politics, and misunderstandings.

Hatred. Assumptions made from doctored ‘research’. Opinions now held to the same standards as facts. Riots to preserve the ideology over science at the risk of violence. Petty differences blown out of proportion from the very same lack of knowledge that begets their ignorance in the first place. Encouragement from power to cause harm to others who do not conform to their beliefs. Fear of speaking out against the tightly-held beliefs of those in power for fear of harm or death.

Willful Ignorance. The cognizant choice to ignore facts, research, and data at the expense of challenging an ideology. Strong-held ‘beliefs’ that are so integrated into our being that our personality seems threatened if we simply adjust to new ideas. The personal attacks that some feel when presented with said facts and the verbal, sometimes physical, abuse that ensues. 

Silence. Stemming from fear, self-blame, victim-shaming – the eerie stillness that exists after abuse. Whether, physical, sexual, verbal, or psychological. Societal expectations for different sexes, races, and socioeconomic backgrounds. Words unspoken when dealing with mental health issues. Noiseless tears until they end by the smoking barrel of a gun or an empty bottle of pills. One less voice to speak.

Mental Health. Taboo thoughts directed at 1 in 4 people who will suffer in their lifetime. Comments that either fall on deaf ears, or exacerbate the problem. Victims believing that they are truly alone because of these remarks. Insurance companies only covering 12 visits to a professional therapist a year, if any at all. High costs of an hour of healing. Bankruptcy just to survive another day.

 

But… there is hope. In the vast darkness of the universe, stars dot the shroud of black. If we do not fall into the cycle of negativity, we can rise above these things and promote the good in the world.

These are the things I now understand. A perspective placed in my mind that I would not have conceived if not for the evil.

Charity. Whether food, money, or a smile. Those who give themselves entirely for no reward. Desirable reincarnation, eternal salvation, or simply to be good. Whatever the reason, it will not overshadow the selfless intent.

Life. Sentience. All beings, not just humans share this balanced globe. Each soul, a beauty in and of itself. Equilibrium between each delicate interaction of living beings. As an insect touches a flower, the mutual understanding and respect bring fruitful existence to them both. Although the plant remains in one spot, the insect is nourished and can spread the flower’s seeds throughout. A woman feeds her baby and continues her kin’s existence. Beautiful in different ways.

Knowledge. Although some may see this as a fault, I believe that knowledge is power. In the face of all this hatred and willful ignorance, facts will prevail. However, they are not spread as readily as misinformation, but evermore pertinent to us. For those who seek out the truth, take heart and do not fear revolt. Change is bubbling to the surface.

 

There is so much that we take for granted because we spend so much time focusing on the negativity fed to us from various outlets. Secretly, we may crave the bad as it makes our own lives seem less chaotic. Without the darkness, we could never see and appreciate the light. Stay positive, everything changes and nothing is in your control. 🙂