Leashed and locked away, such was the life of a forgotten poet.
With lungs that wanted to sound out, scream and yell words of passion for everyone to hear, forced to catch dust and lay still. Constantly teased by the inspiring flow, forever unable to control when and where to unleash the song of lead and dust.
Alas, such was the life of a forgotten poet.
Twirling amongst the harsh conditions, carried wherever by his deaf patron, who was unwilling to listen to his orchestra of death and doom. Taken from his homeland, forced to serve a tyrant with no appreciation for his grand music.
Such was the life of a forgotten poet.
Oh, how many nights had he spent, praying to a higher power that a true lover of the finer arts shall come and pick him up, nestle him gently in their arms and cherish, letting his words ring out all throughout the land - followed along by a crimson painter, staining the world red. How beautiful it would be, to soar through the night sky once more, to sound out, bringing a symphony of destruction anywhere he went.
He could only sit still and dream - such was the life of a forgotten poet.
Something ruffled. Something shook.
The forgotten poet’s humble abode tore in two, making way for the sun’s bright glimmer to bounce off his steel finish.
A hand of its silent patron moved towards his wooden grip. Was this a dream?
A mare? An illusion?
Out, away from his prison he went, raised high into the air, amidst a golden sea of sights and smells - flesh and blood, steel and fire. The forgotten poet felt right at home.
He wanted to scream. To shout, to yell and to celebrate. Thankfully, his patron decided to show kindness that very day. A slender finger lovingly caressed his safety switch.
BANG!
A gunshot tore through the bazaar’s clamor, shattering its loud, violent mundanity. Andy gripped his gun tight and threw his cloaks to the side, watching as one of the devils in front doubled over, leaking blood from his stomach. The other three frantically reached for their newly acquired battle rifles, shouting unintelligible words of turmoil and amok.
The biggest, baddest one had already grasped the trigger, pointing the muzzle towards the boy and squinting his left eye.
Click.
No avail - an empty chamber and no arts affinity made it impossible for him to fire. An explosion of originium dust followed, as Andy sent a tiny lead projectile into the giant’s skull. He fell to the ground, clutching the entry wound with the last remnants of his living will.
The rest threw their guns away, seeing just how ineffective they were. One’s grasp tightened around an oversized blade behind their back, the other swung a houndbeast trap connected to a long, rusty chain around, twirling it in the air like a lasso. Andy barely managed to dodge the steel teeth inching way too close for comfort, almost grazing his sun-kissed skin. It tore the hood off his head, latching onto the fabric with its bloodthirsty fangs.
YOU ARE READING
"Goodbye Curly Head"
FanfictionThrough thick and thin the Law shall prevail. A new sense of purpose awaits us, children of light, in the land where it all began. The darkness in which we once cowered in fear, now curbed by the might of our endless light. Come, brothers, come, sis...
