The night around me shrouds
As I stare past mushrooms
Exuding little blue clouds

The babbling fountain spills
Water flowing over rocks
Never quite making it down grassy hills

Golden flecks have me mesmerized
Floating upward
Toward the starry skies

Within the dancing golden specks
I see pictures long since gone
Ones that perplex.

I see myself there
My crown, my face,
My black and white hair

Facing me is a dark cold wood
Would I intentionally travel there?
Not if I could.

And from this wood a dragon springs
A fearsome sapphire beast
Spreading its wings.

A maw opens wide to engulf me in flame
I nearly buckle in fear
Before I think of my name.

A broken circle it turns out not to be
Unfinished? No.
No mangled destiny.

It grows and it shines
Leather straps and gold plates replace
Those offset and saddening lines

A shield from the fire hot
Everything around me burns
But I do not.

It is soon that I notice them laying at my feet
The names of my friends
Safe from the heat.

The dragon backs away in fear
My voice resounding
“You are not welcome here!”

The dream ends
With me returning
To embrace my safe friends

I awake with a start
A quickened beating
My warmed heart

A dream to tell me the power I wield
No sword, no spear
Only a mighty shield

Not really as literal as my fantasy shows
A metaphor, a simile
You know how it goes.

My job here has not changed
No sorrows no death
My life has not rearranged.

Since the beginning I have known
This place, these friends
I will protect my home.

My name is their shield.

Upon the mossy outcrop
He lay there in the glade
Watching the water drop
Making ripples in the rain.

The sight of his symbol
Caught glinting in the pool
Got the stag to thinking
They'd played him for a fool.

He traced and traced again
Over the symbol with his eyes
Each line, each path, each curve
Where it's born and where it dies.

His name and destiny
Was Unfinished

[=10]Yea... I'm not in the best mood today... hope you all find this interesting anyways (wish I was a better writer XC)

Scratch, Cut, Turn the Page, and Start Over

Shivering hands were laid upon an old musty book in an attic. It was dusty and warm up there due the strangely placed chimney that went through the archaic roof made with many hardened clay plates. Inside there were spiders and other small crawly things. It was a place for the flies to feast off each other’s dead flesh, and the spiders’ for gathering their kill. White fluffs surrounded this person’s thick black leather boots, adding to the room’s warmth. But despite its quietness and the hot air, the hands were still cold, shuddering as if something had startled them enough to move.

These were young girl’s hands, charred up and a bit small, stubby around her tiny finger tips. Upon them there were beautiful blue nails, scratching at the books rough brown surface. They sparkled as the small ray of sun coming through the window hit them, but she didn’t see beauty. All she saw were yellowed slabs of white stained plastic jabbing into gray cracked skin. Though she thought this was the truth, her clouded eyes still stared in disgust.

This girl’s hair was strictly taken care of, washed and wonderful. Each hair was silky and smooth leading to a full head of soft blonde beauty. It matched her pale skin, white like a ghost’s against the highlighted straightened strings. No, this certainly won’t do, she thought, opening the book to a clear laminated page. It was shiny and stiff, the rim silver and the page her reflection.

Her heart stopped for the second she saw it, hideous. She looked, her finger brushing the page with its beautiful tip she saw as horrifically terrifying. Dust covered her face on the image in front of her that shook every time she shifted. No matter how many times her body maneuvered, her stomach turned and her heart ached at her appearance.