Writing

Peregrination of Iphea -Isolation- Part 2

November 14, 2011 - 2:00am — FaunGrae

A bird wheeling above him, the stag watched it dip and dive. The world had suddenly grown cold. Roe and the apocalypse had disappeared....

My fur was caked with frost, but for some reason I didn't care. The cold wind felt friendly, the tern up high seemed happy to see me. That was when she dove and skimmed over the white expanse. I followed, running again over new fallen tundra.

My breath was so warm that it puffed with smoke ahead of me, quickly falling behind as I raced forward after the tern. My laugh was drowned out by the sound of cracking and popping. Ice broke as I skidded to a halt.

The vast sea of water broke, vague outlines of waterfalls and whitewater took form out of the path the ice had made. Vague outlines of home.

Trees of pure ice surrounded me as I walked. Oh were they gorgeous. Their branches tinkled like glass, like falling icicles. They were so gorgeous I did not notice the beast looming in front of me until I was upon him.

A large ice-bear breathed the same air as I did. The tern I had been following was with him, and they were partaking in a meal. I felt compelled to join them.

A moment later I was nibbling on something I never thought I would have tasted: Meat. The meat was vaguely familiar, I couldn't taste it, but it was warm against my lips and slid wetly down my throat. As I ate, I could feel the animals smile. The bear gorged with me, while the tern and a few other birds began to do something....

I grew tired, seemingly falling asleep where I stood. I think it was the meat that tired me.

The birds worked his antlers like malleable clay, adding snow and ice to make them heavy and many-tined. They took the blood from his face, the skin from his meal, the bone from his meal to create a mask for him. As Iphea awoke, they smiled upon him.

[b]I was not adorned. These antlers are heavy and this mask hides my face.

Writing

[ drown me ]

November 14, 2011 - 1:45am — Rutilus

The wind blew down from the North that day
Casting skulls and dust from the earth's debris
I looked out at the never-ending sea
And begged you just to drown me

Twins and triplets came to watch
The ticking of the final clock
Time can slow but never stops
As long as someone's waiting

We searched the shoreline, you and I
I sat you down so you could cry
Without the cruel and prying eyes
Of those who sought to hurt you

A decade's year became a day
You treated me another way
Changed and never quite the same
Compared to memory

The sun was dead in the West that night
The war was lost on either side
Sought help from God and he replied
That you would someday drown me

He didn't help, he didn't care
I looked for Satan and found him there
Sprawled on silk he'd rip and tear
Trying to impress

The moon rose up with sinner's fear
The devil took your soul from here
Cast it out away from me
And silently, I drowned

Writing

Transformation

November 14, 2011 - 12:20am — AngelWings

The squirrel-doe paused. “Why am I changing? I know! I’ll ask the Gods!” She galloped to the twin god idols and knelt. A vision appeared and Michael and Auria stood before her. “I need your help!” Origin’s voice wiggled. “I don’t know what’s going on!”
“Your species undergoes many phases throughout their life. This is your last transformation. You will be fully mature.”
“I don’t understand!”
Origin awoke suddenly. I don’t feel different. She heard a clicking noise and went to the pond to see her reflection. Origin shrieked loudly, catching the attention of some other deer. “Don’t hyperventilate….” Origin looked again. She had a bird’s beak and a feathery fan of a tail with blue streaks on it. “My feathers are still there, and my pattern.” Origin said, looking at the crest of peacock feathers, and the colorful green pattern of her chest feathers. “And bird feet? Paws too? Ohhhh wait a minute…I’m a gryphon!” she exclaimed. Spreading her wings, she went to the Twin Gods Idol to try and fly.

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[ blood red wine ]

November 13, 2011 - 3:30pm — Rutilus

You remind me of a girl I used to know,
I used to love her on the summer sundays
She would tease me and then off she'd go
Leave me crying in the desert haze

Yesterday, I took you down the river I used to go
I brought along our favourite radio
You sang a song to me right from the heart
You said - just like her - we'd never part

I got red blood, and I got red wine
I can't tell the truth, all of the time
My God above, he don't answer me, he makes me...cry
And I won't ever know the reason why

Red blood, and red red wine, oh my
Please don't ask me for the reason why
It took me years to get away from loving you
And many other girls they broke me, too

Winter came, winter went and left me in spring rain
I couldn't tell you just how much pain
I went through, to get to you, to get away
I should have saved my love for another day

I got red blood, and I got red, red, red wine
I've been in love, and I just lose it every single time
Red blood, and the reddest wine I've ever seen
I can't tell you just how long it's been

Red blood, red wine, I got red, red, red all over me
You put red, red, red all over me
And I can't, well I just can't get free of this
Red blood, and red red wine, oh my
Seems I lose my mind all the time...

Writing

In the Shadows and the Light (For SnowSauria)

November 13, 2011 - 2:29pm — Seed

In the Shadows and the Light

In the shadows, her antlers form a wingspan to threaten any knight
In the shadows, the fog of her breath in the autumn air blossoms out like flame
In the shadows, her heart finds words that contradict in it -- and holds the knot of feelings in a tight grip
In the shadows, when her hooves scratch the ground, the mark seems to trail like the sharpened edges of claws

In the shadows, it becomes clear: hanging from her belly is her treasure-trove,
her pile of gold, heavy and soft and shifting as she moves with it.

In the light, she must protect it with all that fierceness,
as deer or dragon, as her hooves beat the empty air.

((This was a gift-poem about Illrose; if Snowsauria doesn't like it, she's free to have me try again. Also, AT LAST! IT IS COMPLETE!))

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - Iugulare Claus

November 13, 2011 - 9:18am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 12

Iugulare Claus
Original Story

The stoat sat alone, a squirrel caught in her paw. She held the rodent tightly, watching as infection covered his body. Then she let it go, and watched it run off, now carrying her disease.

Iugulare sighed. There was something depressing about this time of the year for her. Maybe it was the coldness of the winter months, or the unusual amount of cheer the deer had during this time. She didn’t understand what would make them act like such despite such dreary weather.

Or perhaps it was the amount of loneliness she felt. Sure, she had Anirapio and Nekumbra, but her desire was more on a romantic level. She wanted someone to care for her, to love her. And there was only one person on this planet that she desired a relationship like such.

As she was deep in thought, she heard a strange sound. Looking to the sky, she could have sworn she saw several deer flying through the air. The stoat blinked a few times, and then realized she indeed saw flying deer! They came closer, pulling something behind, and soon landed close by her. Iugulare had never seen such a thing, when an oddly heavyset human wearing red and white stepped out from the sleigh and approached her. “Hello, Iugulare! Merry Christmas!”, Santa Claus said to her.

The stoat tilted her head, ”…And who might you be?”, she asked. She didn’t know very much about the Christmas season.

“Ho ho ho! You sure are a funny girl, aren’t you?”, Santa laughed, “I am Santa Claus, the bringer of joy and peace to the world on Christmas Eve! And I come with a request just for you.”

[=darkgrey]”A request?

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - The Purse of Golden Acorns

November 13, 2011 - 9:17am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 11

The Purse of Golden Acorns
Adaptation of the Jewish story of the Purse of Gold

Author’s Note – This story was included this year in honor of those who celebrate Hanukkah during this time.

Once there was a town where many animals lived and went about their daily lives. They were farmers, merchants, craftsmen, and the like who worked for golden acorns, which was the local currency. The town was also inhabited by local beggars whose lives were difficult as it was, but with the coming winter they had to brave the elements as well as beg for food. Many of them were simply unable to work or had difficulty finding a job. They went about their lives each day with hope that tomorrow would be better.

One beggar was named Luis, who was a humble stag that lost his home to a fire, and since could not find a suitable shelter. He saved his acorns for when he was in the most need, and even shared them with other beggars. He was quite humble and knew the value of compassion and generosity, even as a beggar.

There was a day where he happened upon a silk purse that was lay in the street. He looked around for an owner of the purse, but when he found none, he opened it and was surprised to find a hundred golden acorns within! With this money, he could certainly work toward returning to a normal life. But his ears perked when he heard someone calling out, ”A reward! A reward to the one who finds my silk purse!”

Luis approached the merchant who was calling out.

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - The Nutcracker Strife

November 13, 2011 - 9:16am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 10

The Nutcracker Strife
Loose adaptation of The Nutcracker Suite

Winter had left the Forest dwellers to find less-than abundant food. The Twin Gods would not let any of their own starve, but they were busy with other things, so mushrooms and grass were not as plentiful in the snowy months. During this time, the deer would rely on other food sources, such as nuts and roots, to sustain them. Most deer knew how to crack open a walnut to the treasure within.

Poor Foxglaive had no idea what to even do with a walnut.

He was walking one day, searching around for oddities when he came across a strange little sphere in the snow. Tilting his head, he studied it a little more, looking at the strange texture of the thing, the odd color and such. Then to his shock, he looked to the clear sky above. He scanned and scanned, his heart skipping a beat. “The Moon fell from the sky!”, he exclaimed, “I found the Moon in the snow!”

The stag walked around the little walnut, thinking it was the Moon above that had fallen. It seemed to be the same size as it is in the sky, and looked pretty close. He sat and began to ponder this for a while. What should he do with the Moon? How could he get it stuck back in the sky?

Gently he picked up the walnut and trotted away, looking for somewhere close to the sky so he could put it back. He went to the tallest hills and spat the Moon out, only to have it land on the ground. He tried again, but with no luck. He went to the Playground and stood on the largest rocks, and placing the Moon gently on his hoof, he tried to catapult it to the sky.

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - Evergreen Just for Me

November 13, 2011 - 9:15am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 9

Evergreen Just for Me
Adaptation of The Legend of the Evergreen Trees

The leaves had begun to fall one by one off the trees. Soon frost and snow would cover the land, and there would be little safety, food, and warmth for the birds of the Forest. They prepared their feathers to fly away from the cold, migrating south to warmer climates. A crow would soon join them, Bartholomew was his name. He made sure to eat his fill of berries and worms, for he would need all his strength for the flight ahead.

One day, he was hunting on the ground for things to eat when from out of nowhere a deer raced by. The doe did not even see him there, and by accident she kicked him in the side with enough force to send him crashing into a nearby tree. The crow cried out in pain, and soon discovered that his wing was broken. The doe approached and apologized for her wrongdoing, but was in a hurry to find her fawn. Bartholomew replied, “No no, it’s okay. It was an honest mistake.”, and forgave her immediately.

As the doe bowed and ran off, the crow soon realized he was in a terrible situation. With his wing broken, he could not fly south for the winter. The trees were nearly naked of their leaves, and very soon it would be very cold for his body to survive. The crow would soon learn that trees are not always kind.

Bartholomew looked up to the birch trees and asked for help, but they were boastful of their beauty, and told the crow that they would not shelter a crow.

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - The Endless Forest Grinch

November 13, 2011 - 9:15am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 8

The Endless Forest Grinch
Adaptation of How the Grinch Stole Christmas

The Endless Forest was quiet this night
The fawns all slept, oh what a sight!
They dreamed of the morning, the moment they see
What Santa Claus left them this Christmas Eve
But while the fawns and adults dreamed their dreams
One plotted against them, so it would seem
Her name was Tafari, and she despised Christmas Day
She loved misery and hatred, she loved things her way
“Those fools want Santa to come and bring cheer
But I will surprise them with horror this year!”
She spoke these words with a sudden thought
Of a brilliant scheme, a villainous plot
The deceiver would steal their Christmas away
So when they awoke it would lead to a fray

She kicked Redd awake, who was slumbering near
And said, “We have work to do, you worthless dear.”
“Y-yes maam…”, the stag stuttered a reply
While grimacing at his now painful thigh.
“We’ll take their decorations, their presents, their cheer
So when they awake, they shall be frantic in fear!”
The plot was simple, and so they began
To steal and plunder Christmas from the land
They took the filil mushrooms left for Santa
And took the ornamental tasyer off the ajeeta
They took the frichilsa and yijash from the fawns
They even took the Twin Gods’ iliryon!
While stealing a soojirk, they were startled to see
A fawn awake, looking to them with glee
“Santa, is that you?”, Christoffer asked with eyes plup
Tafari schemed a reply, “Yes, child, why are you still up?”
“I needed some water, and saw you near…
But Santa, what are you doing here?
Is there something wrong with that soojirk?”
“Why yes, it is broken.”, Tafari

Writing