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Breakspear
Breakspear
Tall Tales, short stories, smart-alec poetry. Escape the dungeon with me!
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Breakspear
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A Death at Harvest-time


Dawn broke as I washed the blood from my hands. The brightness was a blessing and a curse. It exposed me to the world, what I had done… what had I done? But at least the horror and the evil was dispelled by daylight.
The girl – the body – was down in the ditch. Darkness still lingered there, out of the sunlight. My mind was a fog. I could hardly remember. There had been a thing of horror, too many teeth and too long, too fast. I was so tired.
Where was my staff? It was broken! What, why? Where was the other part? 
Horror took over my mind again. The Thing had come, I had blocked it, but it hit my staff and broke it. I took the shorter, broken end, it was sharp… my mind shuddered from the horror. Did I dare look down at it?
I did, and regretted it. The woman, the girl, lying in the deep shade under the roadside grass and shrubs. Her mouth, too huge, her eyes too black, her teeth too sharp, lay with the short end of my broken staff in her heart! Gibbering with fear, I stumbled onto the road, wishing to be anywhere else…
But, I wasn’t alone anymore. A few early risers, labourers like myself on their way to a day’s work on the Harvest perhaps, saw me. They looked away, one crossed the road to get out of my path. I had to get to the Market Cross, that was where I was going to go, before…
I staggered, weary and shaken beyond belief, into the town. The gates had been opened, and people crowded in and out. There were women at the well, the shopkeepers were already setting up stalls. I had no luggage any more. It had been left behind, at that ditch. The daylight broadened, and my mind quietened. I could at least form a few thoughts, and I walk steadily.
‘Stop that man!’ came the shout. I turned to see what was going on. There were several men bearing down in my direction. I tried to get out of their way, but they came towards me! Before I could say anything, they had me by my arms. One of them had a rope, which he looped and tied around my wrists behind my back. ‘We found Lucy!’ one of them announced to the crowded square. ‘She was dead in a ditch up the road, and this bloke,’ he slapped me in the back of the head, ‘was seen running away from where she was left, within the hour! He’s a murderer, he’s going to hang!’
Horror returned to my mind. The crowd bayed for blood, and I was frog-marched along the road, back out of the gate. A man in armour, carrying a spear, saw what was going on, and ran – into the town, against the flow of the mob.
On the stone wall of the town, barely 3 storeys high, was a gibbet. ‘No!’ I cried out, ‘You don’t understand, she attacked me!’
There was a chorus of jeers and abuse. ‘Little Lucy, attacked you?’ ‘What did she do, hit you with her pinny?’ ‘Liar!’ ‘You’re going to die, you filth!’
‘Let’s to this proper,’ announced the big man who had led the group. ‘Did you kill Lucy?’
‘Who’s Lucy?’ I shook my head.
‘The girl you left dead in the ditch!’
There were cries of dismay from further along the road. The body had been found.
‘She’s been missing for a month!’ the bruiser bellowed in my face, spittle flecking both of us. ‘And I suppose you were the one who’s been killing the other people? Three others went missing in the past as many weeks!’
I could only shake my head. ‘You’ve got it all wrong! I was attacked by a monster last night!’
‘LIAR!!’ A thick rope was looped up over the gibbet above our heads. Another big man was tying a noose.
The sun shone bright on us all, still at a low angle. It was too beautiful a morning to die.
‘MAKE WAY!’ a stentorian bellow erupted from behind the crowd. People were shoved aside or jumped out of the way, as a detachment of ten soldiers marched up to us. ‘The Lord Gravelly reserves the right to a sentence of death, you idiots already know that!’ Their uniforms were the same as that of the man I’d seen running back into town.
The group of bruisers stood back, sullenly regarding the armed men. ‘There were witnesses – they saw this drifter leave the ditch where the body was found, at first light. The body is still there, go see for yourself!’
‘All right!’ announced the leader of the detachment, ‘Let’s see the evidence! Bring him!’
Two soldiers pulled me along by the arms, back along the road. A large crowd had gathered around the body. The leader, he must have been a sargeant or something, looked down. ‘Well, that looks like her. Somebody pull her out! You two!’ he indicated two of the bruisers.
Two of them got down in the ditch. They bent down, and lifted the body out, putting her down on the grass by the side of the road… 
And as soon as the body was exposed to the bright morning sunlight, it started to smoke! In front of the whole town, it burned with a bright orange flame! Women screamed. Men stumbled over themselves to get away.
After only five heartbeats, the body had been completely consumed by flames! Only the broken end of my staff remained, darkened but unburnt, where the heart had been.
‘Holy blood!’ breathed one of the soldiers. ‘He’s a vampire-killer!’
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Back in the Old House


The old folks' house, the old family home,
Empty now - 
and so, so quiet!

Memories line the walls:
four weddings (including their own)
Two paintings, a portrait,
Grandchildren on the lower tables.

Little remains of the times, good or bad.
Nothing remains of the suffering: 
Kitchen cupboards no longer half-filled with medication,
the hospital bed is gone;
the rising assist strap to help you out of bed in the morning - also gone.

Grandpa's chair is now free for anyone.

The memories remain.

In the quiet, the clock ticks out the seconds remaining for those left behind,
Loud in the quiet.

This world is not our home - 
but, for a while,
This house was.
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Breakspear

The Memories of Limlot, part XIII

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It's got to go!

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If there is any hope to escape this madness,
I wish to heal the poisoned mind
If only there was relief from psychic badness
Oozing from the media’s rotten kind.
 
There is no refuge, save in the absolute Good
No relief or hope that all is well
Oligarchic totality, given its head would 
Turn all the world to living Hell!
 
Being is too good for monstrous souls
Destruction slavers at the Change That Must Come.
Consolation only blossoms in the coals
That burn when all their destruction is done!
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Writing Prompt VIII

My latest in response to r/WritingPrompts:
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The goblins who dwell just outside your village are small and dumb –in an oddly endearing way. The villagers humor their innocuous raids and sometimes even give them advice. In the village’s darkest hour, the goblins send aid.

You'll never believe what happened last month - it's about that goblin tribe near Feywood, my home town? Get yourselves a jar, and I'll tell you all about it!

So, you know those gobbos that live in the fens across the river from Feywood? Yeah, the Frogwallopers. They live in stilt houses or mud huts, deep in the fens. We mostly get along all right, they're too thick to do much harm, tell the truth. I know they sometimes all get drunk and march out with their spears and clubs, but we're doing so well these days, we just give them a bushel of loaves and a few pigs, and they trot off back home. It's easier to humour them than to fight them, they don't expect a lot. We don't want Lord Drake to get involved, he'll send tax-collectors, and we can do without that!
What's that? Maybe they think we're giving tribute, ha! Yeah, might be - but once in a while they'll send someone out who speaks our language, and they trade. We've had beaver hides, dried fish, and I know the Herbalist gets a lot of stuff from them. So anyway!
We had a raid! It was a bunch of lizardmen, no lies! These buggers just appeared out of nowhere. I don't know if you ever saw these monsters, they're huge and strong, and we hadn't a hope! We haven't even had a militia in nearly a year, and you need men with armour to stop that lot. We never even saw them coming! First thing I knew, the swine were charging up the road, scooping up people's dogs, pigs, goats, anything that moved. Then they started on people. Gods know, they wanted to eat the humans, too! And no-one prepared for fighting! I mean, I've got my bill-hook, most men have scythes or pitchforks, but you got to be organised, y'know? Old Tuppy, he laid one of 'em flat out with a flail, it was murder! But then they ganged up on him, and, well, it was murder again, and not pretty. So we're pretty much sitting ducks at this point, and I'm trying to decide if I'll stay to fight or take my chances with the river, when you hear this whistling, whipping sound! No lies, there were arrows from all sides, picking off these bloody reptiles, quick as you like!
I'm telling you, it was those gobbos! They'd seen the lizardmen marching up, and must have decided to have a go, y'know? I've heard tell the fen goblins and lizardmen just hate each others' guts, since... ever! And it worked out bloody well for us, this time. So, more than half the slimy buggers were dead, blinded or injured, and they broke! They shambled off down the river, goblin arrows picking them off as they ran. It was glorious! Then our guys got their act together, and we started chasing them, too.
No lies, those gobbos saved our bacon! If they hadn't pitched up, we'd have been goners, the lot of us! There were so many of them, I never knew so many lived in the fens.
So yeah, we're good friends with the Greenies now. We had a big feast, must be three weeks ago, now, everyone from both villages was invited! I never saw gobbo women before, I don't know how they do it, I can't tell 'em apart, to tell the truth! We didn't like the food they brought, and they hated our music, but it was a good day.
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Summer Evening


Light fails slowly
On a Boreal summers night in June
Green light silhouettes
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