Poems · Short stories

My first, not last, but now my past – Poem

Every summer brings it close

I just can’t silence it

I can’t kill it

It still whispers into my ear

drowns me into what it could have been

I love someone else now

My life is better

yet still like a ghost it follows me

Swallows me in sweet embraces

Honey-crusted memories

Sugar filled nothings

I know it isn’t true

 

Still it haunts me

 

Not like a bloodhound

More like a cat

Slowly creeps in

attacks

Its’ fur is soft

even when it pulls out its’ claws

It plays with me until I’m left on the floor bleeding

 

At times I enjoy it.

Some nights I don’t

Yet it doesn’t ask me if I like it

 

Only thing good about first loves is

there can only be one.

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What's going on?

Untitled story, part 18

Far from them, hundreds of miles away, years back in time. Those memories still lived on in Lyam’s mind. That night after visiting his old home, burned down on the ground, he sat down in his room in front of a small wooden table. He had been moved to the same inn, where Verrill and Denisa had been living for few days, as he had gotten better. They still didn’t know what had happened or why, maybe they never would, but that was something everyone just had to live with. The memories from the night of the attack were fuzzy to all of the survivors but something else had gotten clearer on the way. It wasn’t the same for all of them, but neither of them could just shake it off.

 

Verrill lied in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was quiet, some of the chatter down stairs leaked from between the floor boards, but it wasn’t something that would bother him. He had pulled his pillow foot or two lower so he could still have his boots on while laying down. His feet hung over from the bedside and he had tugged his arms under his head for additional support. And all he could think of was safety.

Even though no one saw it, he was mixed up due to what had happened. Every creak made his heart beat faster, and it wasn’t like him. He closed his eyes for a moment only to open them again. He couldn’t sleep. Actually he hadn’t slept after what had happened, only few hours here and there. No matter how much he wished he could return to their home, build it up again, he knew that he’d have to take his sister to somewhere safer. He felt cold all the time and sleep deprivation made him even more jumpy. He couldn’t stay there.

 

Lyam opened the bottle of ink that was set down on the table. The cork was stuck a bit, so he had to use more force to get it open and in the process he spilled some of the ink on a pile of paper, which the innkeeper had brought in his room. It didn’t matter. He grabbed the quill and dipped it in the ink that was left in the bottle. Then he let the tip touch the paper. At first he didn’t know what to write. How to start. And it left another stain on the paper, but after the dam opened the words poured like a stream on the paper.

 

Denisa walked back and forth in another room. She had a hairbrush on her hand and once in a while she stroke her locks few times. Then she reached for the door knob but pulled her hand back, turned around and fled to the other side of the room. Only to do it all over again.

“Get yourself together”, she told herself and looked into the mirror. She pulled her hair over her left shoulder and put down the brush. She braided her hair and faked a smile, even though it didn’t look like it normally did. She was too nervous, yet she had to do it. It might be now or never. So she would take her chances, as she had made up her mind.

Denisa straightened her skirt and walked to the door, opened it and stepped outside, on the hallway. She knew where to go and didn’t even think about it, just letting her feet do the work. As she stood outside the door, she took a long breath and knocked. It took a moment but then the door creaked open.

“Um… Hi”, she said trying not to stutter, “Hope I’m not bothering you.”

Short stories · Untitled story

Untitled story, part 17

The men climbed on their horses and rode out of the town. And so did Lyam and Verrill. The sun was burning their necks as they left to see the damages of the little town, Tarrion. Lyam was still thinking about turning back during every step of the way, as the pictures of the burning town flashed in and out of his mind. He tried to keep his thoughts on something else, but as they got closer there was nothing in the desert to keep his mind elsewhere. Only times he was able to see something other than what had happened on that one night, was when he remembered his home. His birth home. The walls still rose up against the bright blue sky somewhere far from there. They protected the city, it’s people, buildings, palace standing in the middle of it.

Shivers ran down Lyam’s spine as he thought for a moment. Could he just leave? Could he just go back to where he came from? It would be a risk, a gigantic one and if he’d do so there’d be no going back. He couldn’t risk his friends’ lives, so they would have to part ways with Verrill. With Denisa. Even traveling there would have its’ dangers, it just might be he couldn’t even get there. Would it be worth risking everything all over again? Would she…

Would Denisa understand? Or Verrill?

Lyam shook the thought away. It was completely idiotic to even wonder about such. He pet the horses neck as they stopped near the verge of Tarrion. The air smelled like smoke, burnt wood and.. Flesh. It made even Verrill turn pale as the moon had been. Lyam climbed down and tried to keep his chin up, even though Verrill’s frightened look alone made him terrified. The town was empty, quiet and run down.

Everything was completely ruined, some of the houses had collapsed, if they hadn’t burned all the way. There had been people inside at least some of the buildings, which made all the men keep to themselves in a way. No one said a word, or even looked at the others.

The men walked around the town, but there was no sign left of the attackers. Or anyone else for that matter. Verrill had found a few of the townspeople that had survived to the nearest city like Lyam, Verrill and Denisa when Lyam had been trying to get better. No one they knew that well: The daughter of the local blacksmith and some woman who was visiting her brother. The wind felt cold, even as Lyam knew that it wasn’t. Suddenly he just was freezing, most likely due to the shock. There was nothing they could do. Nothing or no one to save.

Lyam walked outside of  the town for sometime until he came across a place he knew in his heart he might never see again. There was a stone plaque lied down on the ground, where Verrill was already standing. Lyam stopped for a moment and watched as the young man crouched down and put his hand over the plaque stroking its’ warmed up surface. As he got up Lyam approached, put his hand on the shoulder of his friend and watched the grave of Verrill’s mother and father. In the reality they weren’t there, they’d been buried somewhere further but the plaque was there, near home. The ground just was too dry and hard to bury anyone or anything.

Heartbroken they were about to leave, Lyam heard a voice. A clear, high pitched voice like a woman’s whispering in his ear. He turned his head, looked around but there was no one and the words he heard weren’t something he could understand. He felt like he was in a hurry, he’d need to leave. Go somewhere, but he had no clue where. Something was pulling him away. He was just being homesick, or that was what he thought at the moment about it as the idea of returning his birth home passed his mind again. He slowed his horse down, as just to make sure he wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t do that to the only family he had had for years.

“Did you hear that?”, Lyam asked Verrill as they rode side by side and Verrill turned to his way shaking his head for a no.

“You need some sleep”, Verrill said sounding absent-minded. It all weighed him down, and Lyam could see that. The young man still stayed silent, Verrill would need some time to get his head around everything that had happened and would talk if he’d want to do so.

As they returned the city Lyam could feel eyes on his back, but couldn’t figure out who could be watching him. There wasn’t anyone there for miles away, except him, Verrill in his own thoughts and the few town guards. He still couldn’t shake the feeling there was someone there.

 

Continue reading “Untitled story, part 17”

What's going on?

Moving day is near…

And I’m basically freaking out.

On Monday we’re supposed to go get the keys from town nearby with my sister as my boyfriend is working and then it’s the time to start bringing stuff in. Yesterday I backed already most of my things I don’t really need before that, and my room was, and still is kinda, in worst condition it has ever probably been. The chaos is real, and I can’t say that I’d be the most tidy, strict person. I’m loose, relaxed and messy myself. Maybe it’s due to being artistic in a way. Or maybe I have gotten it from my mother, who is a hurricane to say the least.

My cat, Oliver, was freaking out for a moment. He didn’t know where he could go but ended up sleeping on his pillow, on my bed where I had put it. I just know that I can’t move him in straight away, I first need to make things tidy enough in our new home for him to move in. Even though he is fast at getting used to new places, it would be too stressing.

I also figured out I haven’t told that many people that I’m moving. Or that I have gotten a job. Should do that.. Seriously.

Short stories · Untitled story

Untitled story, part 16

Lyam lay there as the days passed. The woozy feeling started to disappear and wounds heal. It took few days but then he couldn’t just take the lying in bed and forced himself to get on his feet. He washed his face himself, got dressed. By a miracle his ribs weren’t broken, just sore but it still took a lot of willpower to get up and moving so soon. But he felt that there was no time.

No body had stepped a foot on Tarrion’s streets, as far as they knew, after that night. All of them could still see the flames, the blood and bodies on the pavement.. But it should be investigated, that’s what Verrill had said to Lyam as Denisa was out of the room. They both agreed that she wouldn’t be coming with them, but Lyam thought that they couldn’t go alone. They’d need at least few guards with them just to be safe. Verrill didn’t agree, actually Lyam had never seen that sensible man fight against something that hard though even he knew that Lyam was right. But after they both agreed, Verrill went to talk to someone about the mission and left Lyam to get ready.

His legs shook as he walked across the room to the big, old closet and opened it to find a pair of clean clothes. He dressed up. The boots were brand new, which might have not been the best choice: The leather was still stiff and would cause abrasions in his feet.

He pulled the boots on and opened his door, walked through the hallway and outside the front door after a moment of looking for it. He was out, for the longest time. The sun blinded him as he walked right out on a busy street in the middle of the town. He wasn’t sure where he was or where he was going, but stubborn as hell.

He heard the hoofs of a horse hitting the stones and a carriage-wheels behind it, so he took a step back to let it past. Slowly but steadily his eyes got used to the light, even though his movement stayed the same: stiff and slow. He walked along the street on a direction he felt right. Maybe he’d find to the right place. Or maybe he’d need to ask for help.

After walking around in circles for some time he stopped. His injuries made him slower than normally, and so did lying in bed. He wasn’t used to it. He was always up and moving, as he had been for years and didn’t know how to stop. But this time he slowed down enough to ask directions.

He ran into a man, a bit taller than himself, wearing the uniform of the town, so he explained the situation and asked where to go. The guard looked at him for a moment with out any emotion in his eyes and turned around. He walked to the corner of the next house as Lyam just stood there.

“Are you coming or not?”, he yelled and Lyam did his best to caught up on him, as hard as it was to do so.   Continue reading “Untitled story, part 16”

Short stories · Untitled story

Untitled story, part 15

It was dream-like. Lyam simply lied there at times staring at the wooden ceiling planks when he was strong enough to make his eye lids stay open for short periods at time. He heard people talking and the words morphed into his sleep making him feel woozy and.. Dislocated in a way. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on but what was more or less clear to him it wasn’t good. Better than it could have been. Or maybe not?

“He should be dead”, Lyam heard someone whisper and moved his right arm a bit, which made the person flinch, “Did he hear that?” Yes, he did, even though he wasn’t able to say anything and were to forget about it before waking next time from a nightmare.

Sense of time mashed and disappeared to somewhere inside those walls on that day. He didn’t know how long he slept, and how long he was awake. All the voices in the room sounded alike. It felt like years passed, even though it may have been just a day. An hour, Half of it or just minutes. Sometimes Lyam tried his best to open his mouth, say something or move his limbs which made him freak out for a second as he wasn’t quite sure if he could ever do that again. Was he really dead? Some voices he didn’t recognize. They felt strange to him and he didn’t know what made them. One particularly. It echoed from the walls bringing more noise to the room.

Then he fell asleep again.

 

The next time he woke it was night. It had been a day since the fire. A day since the attack and a day since he lost another home. Or maybe even more. As he was slowly waking up he could see her. It had been some time but her face was clear in all the fog he was living in. He could still hear talking, words he didn’t understand but he knew to be different from the language he had heard from the attackers. It felt familiar and made him feel warm inside. The voices were like a choir, singing the message Lyam couldn’t understand.

He felt a shiver.

It ran down his spine, like something was wrong. It wasn’t a stranger passing through his body, he had felt it other times and it was never something good. It made him squirm in the sheets. He threw his arms around until he hit something. A glass of water fell by his bedside table breaking on the floor. The door opened and someone came in to clean it up. His mind cleared up relatively fast.

“Lyam!” he heard a scream he knew as someone ran inside the small room. She grabbed him and held him tightly, mumbling things he couldn’t make sense of. For a short while he just enjoyed the warm embrace and imaged Her. His eyes were closed and he, while it took a lot of effort, held her. And as it slowly occurred him that who was there wasn’t the one he first thought, he still kept his eyes shut and held on to the feeling. The warmth, the memory. Even though he couldn’t hold on forever, he sure as hell would try.

The moment passed, the picture shattered and Lyam was wide awake. Open for the real world to enter his mind. He opened his eyes and let go of Denisa. Tears had filled up her eyes and looked closely there was something glimmering in the corner of Lyam’s eye. Verrill was standing right behind her looking over her shoulder at Lyam. Vaguely Lyam smiled at both of them, still feeling sharp pain running up and down his arm. His ribs were sore as he had fell off of a horse and his head was pounding worse than after a night of drinking. The pain eased a bit after Denisa let go of him.

“So this is how far you’d go to get yourself killed”, Verrill said sounding as calm as he usually did, “Don’t go any further.” His voice turned into more serious towards the end of what he got to say. It was more of a warning than anything else.

“Are you gonna be alright?” Denisa asked worried. She was squeezing on Lyam’s hand as she sat on his bedside. He thought for a second about the whole situation, but tried to sound as carefree as he could when he answered:
“Of course”, he forced a bit wider smile to appear on his face, “You wouldn’t get rid of me that easily.” Denisa teared up again and smiled from ear to ear. The door closed.

“Who was that?” Lyam asked, still confused about simply everything. The door opened again and a woman walked in. She worked her way pass Verrill and Denisa.

“Oh, that. No one”, Verrill answered his question before Denisa could open her mouth. The woman who had entered the room started to open up the bandage on Lyam’s arm.

“So you’re finally awake”, she said, “Your bandages need to be changed and the wound cleaned. The infection seems to be passing, you are a lucky man, mister.” She sounded more scolding than happy to see him awake.

“Infection?” Denisa gasped and looked at her brother.

“Well that happens when you get a wound and won’t treat it”, the woman blaming Lyam. He didn’t care, he was alive and breathing. And so was Denisa and Verrill at least. There was still hope that everything would be alright.

Continue reading “Untitled story, part 15”