Rhyme Spree!

Wow, I guess we got inspired on the same night . . . . how weird!!! Lol oh well. What can I say? It must be one of those nights . . . . . .

  

Rhyme spree!!!!!

Here is my little spree

Of rhyming words for free

Without my cup of tea

Dear me,

What can I say?

Another issue today?

Just another way

Of living the day

Is for me to lay

Here to pay

Here to pray

Here on the ground

Listening to the sound,

Where none is found

Dreamless bound

Realities pound

Turning it around

Sniffing out the hound

Going light to dark

What’s that, hark,

There, it’s stark

It’s no park,

It’s pain,

It’s the ordain

Force, not fain,

Strong, not vain,

Secret, not plain,

So use the cane,

Break it out,

Let yourself shout,

Don’t do your pout,

Don’t play the lout,

That’s not what it’s ‘bout

Don’t be ‘cause‘n doubt,

Because that in the end,

The message doesn’t send,

And you’re stuck to fend

Off all your friends

When you finally descend

Around the bend

Out of the trend,

When life you lend.

But now I’m done,

No more fun

Now that I hate the sun

No intentioned pun

‘cause now I shun

My own poum – - – - – - – (poem but . . . . whatever works)

Distant Memories

I may add more to this poem, I may not…I duno. lol. Just something I typed up tonight. 

Nothing much to do today

Just thinking back on days gone away

The memories I hold so dear

Those times gone by that hold such joy & cheer

Coulda happened yesterday, maybe last year

No matter what, the same thing they shall all be

The distant memories that flash around me

Suddenly all I can see

This moment and the next, they’re all destined to be

Just yet another of my distant memories

Men of War

The Men Of War

The men of war they marched along
And through the day they sang the song
Of battles won
In shining sun
And not a thought for death prolong

Goodbyes are said and love is sent
And no regrets are here to vent
The mothers cry
And fathers sigh
For “this is their own punishment”

Then they approached the battle lines
In dark of night more black then mines
The booming sound
The shaking ground
The men of war they saw the signs

The shrieks and screams they filled the air
And soldiers turned to stop and stare
To watch the blood
Burst forth in flood
Reality of cannon glare

Their comrades falling all around
Then clutch their ears to block the sound
And side by side
The living died
To hell or heaven they were bound.

The Men of War their battle fought
With screams and gore that ne’er is sought
The fires died
The soldiers sighed
The price was paid without a thought.

The fog of war now holds their souls
Above the ashes and the coals
Remembered, now
Death won’t allow
The men of war they gave their tolls.

Day as a loser

Day As A Loser

Hello stranger, or whoever it is reading my story. Let me get straight to the point. What I’m going to relate to you is not something that you will believe easily. So when I tell you this story, please keep your mind open to the possibilities of that which I relate to you. Maybe I can offer some ample proof to what I’m going to say, but I really don’t know. Maybe it’s better if you just sent this down and forget about it. You decide.

It started when I was riding my bike to the library. I’ve always loved the air passing me by, the exhilaration that it brings when I pick up speed. The wind whips my hair about in different directions, and my clothing rustles audibly as I lower my head closer to the bike to go faster. Pedals flying almost faster then I could turn my legs; I was got a sufficient amount of speed. I stood up, letting go of the handle bars and swung my arms out, and griped the bike’s seat just below my knees so I can get as high as I can. Lifting my arms to embrace the wind, I close my eyes for a short bit to feel the cold bite lightly at my face and hands. I enjoy it though because cold has never been a major discomfort to me. Knowing that it’s more then a little dangerous, I open my eyes so I can more easily direct my bike on the sidewalk. It wasn’t needed though, being chilly, overcast, and having a general gloomy disposition, very few people were out and about. Looking around me, I could only spot a few cars, and there were no people to speak of that were immediately visible. Dropping back down to my bike, I start pedaling hard, giving myself speed for the last hill ahead. Struggling, panting for breath, and with a large stupid grin on my face I make it over the hill and am now in view of the library. Coasting down the large parking lot, I stop my bike at a bike rack and chain it there. Leaving my helmet by my bike I walk to the large concrete building. Glancing at the signs advertising the next program the library is hosting, I push open the double doors into the foyer. Going through the next set of doors I look around the library. The check out desk was directly to my left, and the biography/nonfiction books were on racks on my right, all the way to the back of the library. Right in the middle are the computers that also reached to the far back, ending at the small teen section. To the left of that, were the adult fiction and the children’s books. However, I knew as soon as I entered that something was wrong. There was no one there. Lights on, doors unlocked, but not a soul in sight. My gaze raked the library thoroughly, but there were no signs of anybody. I just kind of stood there looking around, feeling strange weird in all the silence that I’m not used to in a library. I mean, I know it’s supposed to be quiet, but there’s always the quite murmurings that go on when the librarians not paying attention. I felt a little exhilarated, I must admit, being all alone in what seemed to be an abandoned library. I thought about going back out side and looking around for the reason of the strangeness, but I decided against it when I heard the door open behind me. When I turn around to look however, in walked the most bizarre creature. To this day I don’t have any idea who or what it is. It stood to my waist, maybe three feet above the ground. It wore clothes that looked about a few hundred years out-of-date. Something maybe Tom Sawyer would wear. Going around with hairy, bare feet, like a hobbit or something. But the weirdest thing about it was the skin. The creature looked to be several hundred years old, with its skin as wrinkly as any human at 80 years old. With green skin and huge, thin ears, he reminded me of Dobby, with his nose to boot. But above the non-existent chin, above the thin line that was a mouth, were the eyes. The eyes had something in them that rooted me to the ground and left me staring. The eyes were small, and looked quite weird on the face of overly large features. However, it was IN the eyes that amazed me. they were old, and I don’t know how I know this, but the eyes were like the ones who had lived forever, that had seen far to much for any one person to see. He had eyes that looked into my eyes and somehow saw my heart at the same time, and left me feeling like I was revealing everything to the creature, and left me feeling striped and bare before him. His eyes seemed to change then, into ones that seemed very understanding, like they knew what was going on inside me, all the conflicts I had ever faced seemed to surface and understand in his eyes. And then there was the dismissal, as if I were no more then a bug, a small worthless piece of annoying dust. I was so deep in my thoughts that it took me a moment to realize he was heading down the isle between the non-fiction and the computers. He headed toward the door that lead to the quiet room, where it’s supposed to be totally silent. I ran to keep up with him and walked beside him down the isle, looking at him all the way. He glanced at me, stopped, and stared at me full on again.
“What the heck do you think your doing?” he said. He sounded like an experienced singer with a melodious voice trying to sound disdainful and not quiet making it. Either way though, so warped in my thoughts and still in shock/amazement, I couldn’t come up with the words to speak. I just stared at him dumbly. The creature takes one last look at me before turning away and striding more quickly to the door. I thought I heard “stupid human” as he walked on. I ran to catch up with him and managed a strangled sounding grunt that only slightly sounded like “wait.”
“What are you?” I managed to say as I caught up with him. He glanced at me as he walked and said, “I am a … eh … how do you humans say it … goblin? Yes, yes that’s right, goblin. Blast, or was it gnome? There’s so many … wait no, the gnomes are the bearded ones. So … wait, it was Saurus. No … by the powers! Stupid humans.” The Goblin had now reached the quiet room door and turn to me. “don’t you have something better to do? Check out a book, check out some chicks, check out some cars, whatever you teenagers do.” I started to get a little sense back, enough to ask “what are you doing”, even if it was in the most monotoned voice you could imagine. The Goblin was imedeatly turned on th defenseive, and said “none of you business. This is strictly NOT for humans. Now leave me alone so I can do my work. Hold on, I got an idea.” The goblin put his hands about 3 inches beyong the doornob, and pressed hard on the invisible air. “Perfect” he mutterd. He then proceeded to go through the doorway, closing it behind him. I could see inside a little bit because of a small window that was built into the door, but I could not reach the doornob because of some invisible wall the goblin must have put up. Now that I finally looked inside, I saw that there were three men in black with pistols, one with a shotgun. They gaurded about 10 people inside the room, right in th middle. Their faces were coverd so you could see nothing of them. for some reason, no one registred the goblins presence. The goblin proceeded to take the weapons out of the mens hands, and leaving them dazed, staring at their hands where the weapons dissappeard. There were 5 or 6 well built people there in the room, and once they saw the weapons were miraculasly gone, they jumped onto the men in black. Having the men subdued and their weapons in his arms, the goblin walked back out the door. “here” he said, and gave the mens weapons to me. as I cradled the weapons in my arms dumbly, a few men ran out the door. Seeing me with the weapons, they ran over and quickly thanked me, somehow, I had distracted the men inside and had taken their weapons. I have not quite got the whole story of what happened their, I just know that I saw something someone that no one else did, and it scared me. sense then, I have had the rare glimps of some manner of creature here and there, but never as close up as this.
So there you have it, my story, no matter how unbelievable. It’s up to you to discern, I can tell no more.

It’s About Time

 I actually wrote this about a year ago, but oh well. lol. I’ll post something more current another time, I guess!

Watch time fly out the window

Minutes pass as each second goes

Life is a breath you don’t want to waste

You get closer to death the more you haste

When you were young all you wanted was to grow up

Now that you’re old you want the ageing to stop

 Don’t waste your time chasing the things you can’t get

Or batting a ball that can never be hit

Seconds to minutes

Hours to days

Weeks to months

Years to decades

Time goes so fast

Each day cannot last

Before you know it

A whole year is passed

Each moment you’re living

Is a gift God’s giving

Don’t waste a second

A minute

A day

For time is flying

Flying away

“How Did You Die?”

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what’s that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It’s nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there-that’s disgrace.
The harder you’re thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn’t the fact that you’re licked that counts,
It’s how did you fight-and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he’s slow or spry,
It isn’t the fact that you’re dead that counts,
But only how did you die?

-Edmund Vance Cooke

A Selection from my Scottish Tale

You might understand this section better if you first read this one, which preceeds the selection below. Let me know what you think.

-That night it was a gloomy and discouraged bunch of Scots that assembled wearily at the Barrie McLaif croft. Barrie had opened his house to the remaining Scots, deciding it would be better to be cautious and not reside where the enemy would know where they were. This way the foe had to at least look for them. As for Captain Dunstan and his soldiers, Barrie figured they could take care of themselves.
The small croft was not quite large enough for even the few remaining Scots, 18 left of the previous 31, so the patriotic Scotsmen that were not as badly wounded as the others found places to rest outside the croft. Most of them took shelter from the drizzling rain that had just begun underneath the roof of the McLaif’s sheep shed. Ian also holed up inside the shed, but after a few minutes returned to the croft to fetch some sort of nourishment for his fellows.
He closed the door promptly behind him after entering, and paused to survey the situation inside the crowded building. Those that had been badly injured during the earlier fracas were lying, or sitting, in various locations around the room. Ian’s mother, sister and Joanne were going around the room tending to the injured men. Joanne looked up from gathering some bandages, and saw Ian standing at the door. She stood up and walked over to him.
“Your arm.” she exclaimed, pointing to his left arm.
“Eh, what about it?” questioned Ian, looking down at it. He saw then that he had received a rather small cut upon it. “Och, it’s just a small cut, nothing to worry about.”
Joanne nonetheless insisted on wrapping a bandage around it. She cut a strip of cloth from the roll she had, and carefully wrapped it around the damaged arm.
When she was finished, Ian thanked her and then inquired as to whether there was any food to be found for his fellows outside. She shrugged, but went and looked around for some nourishment. Ian’s eyes followed here as she walked across around the room. She stopped every now and then to pick up a morsel of food, until she had collected all that there was available. Returning to Ian, she handed the food to him, and he thanked her before returning to the outside air.
After rushing hastily through the rain to the cover of the rough shed, Ian passed out the small amount of food as evenly as he could.
 “Thank ye much,” exclaimed one of the men gratefully.
 Ian nodded solemnly, sorry that he couldn’t bring more to these men that had fought so hard for so much. Looking around at the tired, weary men sitting under that pathetic shed, he thanked God that only a few comrades had been killed in the fight. Sitting there, with the rain drumming rapidly on the ground and roof, Ian was inspired to pray aloud with his comrades.
 “Shall we pray?” he exclaimed, glancing around at everybody. Some nodded, some shrugged, so Ian began, bowing his head and clasping his hand together on his knees.
“Heavenly Father, we thank you for delivering us today and…and…bless those that didn’t make it…”-

The Scarlet Letter

For those who have read The Scarlet Letter this might be a little interesting. This is an addition to that book, like what happened to Pearl when the story stopped. If you haven’t read the book, it probably wont seem like much,but you can always judged my writing skills. lol.
Nathaniel Hawthorne set he pen down beside the paper on which he was writing on. Closing his eyes and relaxing back in his chair, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Staring at the back of his eyelids for a moment, his mind wandered from the events in the story and the now. He picked up the manuscript and looked at it as if it held secrets that it would not reveal, not even to him, the creator. Brows furrowed in concentration, he didn’t notice the woman-that came up the stairs that sounded off such a racket-until he heard the knock on the door. At the swift rap he jerked his head over his shoulder quickly, and then called, “Come in!” the door opened to a woman in her mid thirties with lush dark hair, almost black. Her skin was smooth without flaw, not overweight and not over skinny. She wore a beautiful maids dress crafted by her own hand, one that was beautiful as it was purposeful. However, the most astounding aspect of this woman was the scarlet letter A on her breast. Nathaniel smiled faintly at the thought of the A, and their confrontation at the beginning. She had come up to him with that same red letter on her chest and had asked for a job at the custom house. He pointed at the scarlet letter and said,
“Nay, not with that on thine chest. I’ll never have anyone staying here if rumor gets out I’m harboring an adulteress.” And the woman had replied to him,
“It is not for any act I have committed that I wear this badge.” The woman’s eyes seemed dark and full with secrets, looking into his soul. “It is for my mother.” A most queer woman, but he gave her a job for a short period. She worked exceedingly hard in all that he assigned her. She had the front room clean and habitable in 3 days, a feat He had not thought possible in its abused condition. She came to bring him breakfast and dinner, a full meal well appreciated. Nathaniel’s work consumed him, giving him no extra time. He had lived like a hermit for that past few weeks, weeks that turned into months. He rarely saw anybody during the day and less during the night, but the woman never forgot him, and continued to bring him meals. She was intelligent, understanding, and able, qualities of women not usually accepted by men. Nathaniel knew better though.
The woman walked over to the desk and set the tray, laden with food, gently on the desk.
“Is there anything thou shalt need in the future?” the woman asked. She has never failed to say these lines for all the times she had brought meals to his desk.
“nay, I shalt not be needing anything thanks to you” the woman’s eyes looked at him sharply. She then turned to the door, and as she walked out she said, “I’ll be back soon with a blanket and more candles” Nathaniel chuckled to himself. Many didn’t understand his lenient attitude toward the maid. He knew however, that she was capable of much more then what was thought of her. Probably her upbringing, he though. Yes that would be it. He gazed out the dirty window to his left and said aloud her name, as if to test it upon his tongue. “Pearl.” He scratched his chin and bent his head once again to his work.

children story

i wrote this as a childrens story for school, because i had to use parallelism. parallelism is where certain attributs of the story are repeated. you’ll see what i mean (i hope) once you read it.

One day, Ryan and his little sister Mary were walking in the woods. Ryan told his sister many funny jokes, and watched her gasp in wonder as he pulled pennies out of her ears. They were laughing at some funny joke when someone jumped into their path. It was a slender young man, with long blond hair that fell past his shoulders, and pointed ears!
He said to them, “Why hello! You must be new here, for I’ve never seen you before. Would you like to join me and my friends in a grand feast to celebrate our new king?” Mary loved the idea and pleaded with Ryan to go with this stranger.
Ryan was careful and said, “What about mother? She asked us to be back before dark.”
The stranger smiled and said, “Oh don’t worry then! When we finish feasting and the games, we will bring you home in a flash!”
“Please Ryan?” Mary said, showing her puppy dog eyes.
“All right” said Ryan, giving in. “But only for a short while.”
“Wonderful!” said the stranger, “follow me!” They followed the stranger through the forest until they came to a leafy meadow filled with wooden tables containing more food then you could shake a stick at. The stranger ran to join his friends, many of whom were already at the tables eating. Ryan spotted another unfamiliar person, similar to the one who found them, on a great throne at one end of the meadow, surveying the new guests. Mary glanced at her brother and said,
“Come on Ryan! Look at all the food! I’m hungry!” she was about to take off running to the food when Ryan reached out and grabbed her.
“Hold on sis, something’s not right here.” He surveyed the elves eating furiously, gorging themselves on the food. He also observed a strange light behind Mary eyes that he didn’t like. “We should not eat next to complete strangers. We should not have even followed someone we didn’t know. We must leave quickly.” Ryan grabbed his sisters arm in a firm grip and turned to go back through the woods. However, as he turn around he was surprised to see another stranger right behind them. This stranger was not slender and clean, nor did he have pointed ears. Rather, he had a long dirty beard that was tucked neatly into his belt. His grimy face was grinning up at Ryan because he was much shorter. He was as tall as a man’s legs, and no more. He wore what looked like heavy armor, with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Woi ‘ello! Ye must be new heres, cuz I’ve never seen ye befores.” He said gruffly. “haha, ye’re smarter then oi thought. Wise of yeh not to eat ‘der food, or yeh might never ‘ave left agin! Ye wish teh turn home ‘den? Well, I’ll show ye’re de way. But befors ye go, will ye excepd a gift from us’s? Me and me brudders I mean. We’re expandin’, and we needs to make room for more gold and gems. Just a bit tho’, we love our glitter, just eh few trinkets for ye. Like tis” the stranger pulled out a golden necklace with a large green emerald on the circlet in the middle. Both Ryan and Mary were drawn to it, wanting to touch it. Soon however, it was gone again, somewhere underneath all the armor he wore. “Well, what d’ye say?” he asked.
“Don’t forget mother! She asked us to be back before dark, and the sun is already slipping away.” The stranger smiled and said,
“Oh don’t ye worry ‘den! Just come wit me and ah’ll lead ye to me cave. Just pick out a few trinkets and we’ll take yeh to yer homes! Aur tunnels go everywhere, so’s we can put yeh back to yer home in no times.”
“Please Ryan?” Mary said, her lower lip trembling and her eyes looking for the necklace. Ryan thought about how much the money he would get b selling the “trinkets”, and quickly agreed. The stranger lead them a little ways into the woods then went down into a cleverly concealed hole in the ground. He took out a torch and lit it, and they carried on through the tunnel. At last, they came to a large chamber that was completely underground. It was like being in an upturned bowl, Ryan thought. in the middle of the chamber was a large hole, where bouts of liquid fire came bursting out.
“What’s that?” asked Ryan.
“Tha’?” replied the stranger pointing at the large hole. “Is just where we’s gets aur gold and gems. dats liquid gold yeh see de’re, but ye can’t ‘ave none o’ that. Look to de other side o’ the cavern de’re, inside dat cave.” The children looked where the stranger spoke, and saw a cave filled to the brim with glittering gold and gems. Mary and her brother stood there awestruck and couldn’t move. Staring at the mountain of gold, the fire pit was soon forgotten. Mary took a hazy step forward and tripped on a rock. Before she could fall, however, Ryan caught her in his arms. He looked at the pit of fire, and back at the grinning stranger, and saw an evil glimmer in his eyes.
“No” Ryan said, “No, we need to get home, NOW.”
“Why hello! You must be new here, for I’ve never seen you before.” Startled by another presence, all three looked around. An old man was walking swiftly toward them, a staff thudding against the stone floor as he walked. He was dressed in grey and looked hunched up. When he reached the group he stopped and looked into Ryan’s eyes.
“My, you’re such a brave young man.” The old man said. “Such strength is rare these days. Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll take you to a place that you would love more then anything.” Ryan was on his guard this time, and demanded,
“Where are you taking us?”
“Why, home dear boy,” the old man said with a sparkle of a tear in his kind, wrinkled eyes. “I’m here to take you home.” Ryan smiled with relief. Suddenly, thunder shook the cavern and rocks fell from the high ceiling to the floor.
“Hurry, we must go quickly! Follow me, and I will lead you out.” The old man led them through the tunnels with surprising agility, though rocks and dust poured continually from the tunnel ceiling. Mary was coughing and stumbling in the dark, so Ryan carried her and followed the old man by the sound of his footsteps. They finally came out of the tunnels into the last rays of sunlight.
Then old man turned to Ryan and said, “I must leave you here on after, but don’t worry, you’ll be safe. Just follow that small dirt path there, the straight and narrow one, and you’ll be safe.”
“But where are you going?” asked Ryan, clutching tiny Mary in his arms.
The old man laid his hand on the back of Ryan’s head, bent down so they were looking at each other at eyelevel, and said, “Oh you brave boy. I go to rescue others just like you. Others trapped in a web of greed and self-indulgence. Now run home, quick! Before the sun goes down!” The old man walked into the forest and disappeared. Ryan set off at a run, his feet coming down heavily on the path. Thump thump thump. . . . Endlessly his feet pounded the dirt, running through bushes, keeping to the straight and narrow path. It’s all or nothing he thought, now or never. Carrying Marry through the dark forest, he began to lose sight of the sun, slowly entering the mountain ahead. He ran harder, holding Mary tightly in his arms. Strangers yelled at him from the trees to stay, to live forever, to enjoy his time as a child, but they held nothing but fear for him now, and he ran on. Finally, he broke through a group of trees just as the sun slipped behind the mountain, and what did he see in the distance but his family’s cottage, and his mother coming out calling his name.

the Demon

well, this is (really) my only really good story. i think this is my best work. it’s just about a guy who discovers a demon. it was going to be a book that i really wanted to make. unfourtunatly, i wasn’t able to do anything with it. here is what i have however. tell me what you think.

 

The old man, sitting in his wooden chair, took a book that a nearby servant was holding. He blew the dust off the book and opened it to the front of the book. He raised his eyes to the audience in the chamber hall. The king himself was listening to the story. The old man opened his mouth and spoke in a raspy voice. “What I am about to tell you is one of the most famous stories of old. It is about a boy, who grew to be a man above all men. It is about demons and creatures less pleasant. Nevertheless, our hero is our hero still. Remember this, you will probably only hear this once in your lifetime.” With that, the old man lowered his graying eyes and began to read.

As dawn’s light slowly crept through the trees and the forest stirred with new life, a young man walked the road. This young man was actually larger then most men, especially around the middle. Gailen had an unhealthy habit of eating too much, and you always knew it was him when you saw the massive pack of food on his back. He carried a knobby walking staff with a strange green light at the tip. His clothes were made of normal homespun cloth with a tough leather jerkin. He had a leather hat guarding his bald spot he swears he does not have, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows across his back. You could tell he was going hunting, for that was just about the only thing he did, for Gailen was a butcher’s son. He made his living through the store in town where he sells meat with his father. He had two packs this day, one for his food, and the other for his equipment.
His cheeks were red with the early morning chill as he whistled along, dreaming of the sweedan ale that would be brewing at his friends’ house. His friend Zadon and his father ran a roadside cavern a few miles south of the city. They had planned this hunt for a long time, together in the forest.
As Gailen continued walking, he spotted smoke rising from the trees. He though to himself, what can that be? No hunter is stupid enough to light a fire with normal wood in the forest. For he knew what all hunters did. They bring flambre, a special kind of white wood that does not give out smoke. It was not very hard to get. It was a common supply for the hunters nearby, and sold in many hunting shops. As he thought about it, he became curious, and stepped off the path toward the forest. He hesitated at the edge of the forest, Being an experienced hunter. He knew better then to do things without a good reason and sound planning when it comes to the Forest of Mordon. However, his curiosity got the better of him and he continued.
As Gailen traveled through the forest, it seemed as if the trees had swallowed the road behind him. The tree branches were thick and large, with cobwebs scattered here and there. The brush grew high, making it nigh impossible to push through, and resulting in using his sword. He looked up, but all he saw were the trees around him, blocking sunlight with their wide spread branches. He was about to give up and turn back to the road, already having his doubts in the wisdom of going into the forest in the first place, when he smelled smoke in the air. It must have been closer then I first suspected! He thought. He then proceeded cautiously, peering through the branches as he moved slowly along. As the smell grew stronger, he crouched and moved more carefully. Soon he came to an edge of a clearing, and was astounded by what he saw.
The edge of the clearing was scorched, burnt to a crisp. There was nothing left of the grass, for the ground was covered in ash and blood. Bodies cluttered on the ground, hands grasping at nothing. In the midst of it all, stood a Darfkahn. The demon was completely black with streaks of red. His four deadly arms stuck out like a spiders limbs, and each arm held a dark sword. However, the sword was not nearly as dangerous as the poison in its diamond hard, foot long nails that came out at its knuckles. The poison that resides in those nails would slowly, painfully, horribly take control of your body, turning your body on your own allies. This demon had a large dark cloak covering its whole body and draping over the charred earth.
The Darfkahn were a race of creatures that were destroyed long ago, when they had risen to dominate the world. The races of good joined forces and defeated the Darfkahns. They were thought to be wiped out, but there had been rumors that a few managed to survive. Little scorched clearings like this one have been found, but were dismissed by the foolish as remains from the last war. But there were some that knew the truth. The Darfkahns had survived. They had survived and were in hiding.
This one must have been one of the few that made it! Gailen thought. He looked on in awe at the 8 foot tall demon.
After recovering from his initial amazement, Gailen saw something that astounded him. The demon was staring at a sword. However, as Gailen saw, it was not just any sword, this one had a gem studded golden hilt, and a diamond blade. A sword such as the one Gailen was looking on is hard to find, and very expensive if bought from the dwarves (only they know how to make such blades). Its incredible beauty startled him, and he thought to himself, if only I could just distract the demon enough so that I could. . . Gailen shook his head, wondering if he had gone insane. Distract him! I would only lose my life! Then he realized the power of the sword. It’s hypnotism. He thought grimly. And the Darfkahn has probably realized that by now. He thought. But wait, if he knew it, why would he be staring at it? Gailen wondered. Unless the sword controls him too! He looked at the sword again. If the demon is hypnotized, maybe I can just. . . and at that point, he realized what he was thinking about and immediately looked away from the sword. Slowly retreating from the sword and demon, he thought how close to death he had become. As soon as he was out of hearing distance of the demon, he broke into a run.

hope you enjoyed the story!

-Bo