Poem, Scenic, Short story, Weekend

To feel the air.

There are words which I have lived by. Words which have offered encouragement and vision, words which I had never understood, yet always knew the meaning. For I have fought carelessly, and sought out blood when it was but a warm liquid which should only surge more from another than myself upon the ground.

Continue reading “To feel the air.”

Horror, Lore, Poem, Sagas, Scenic, Short story, Weekend

Forgotten warnings.

One never expects the fanciful and fantastic to occur anywhere outside of stories. Only in legends and half forgotten memories do Gods ride upon the elements and heroes roam the world. So many places hold a relic, or even a spirit from ages past, it would be hard to believe any claims of authenticity, even if the fruits of those words stared one straight in the face.

Continue reading “Forgotten warnings.”

Lore, Poem, Scenic, Short story, Weekend

In time for supper.

When the sky comes falling down, and fire falls from the heavens, when the waves come to flood the land and death surrounds the world, none can convince the certain that the nightmare has never been so.

Continue reading “In time for supper.”