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lauantai 9. toukokuuta 2015
Death of the Poet boy Pt II
The Hex landed beside Rivet. Screeching stopped. They discussed, started to walk slowly away from the town hall, to the direction of the cart behind the boy was crouching.
”No! Not this way” the boy cursed in his mind. They were already close. He could see their legs and hear the heavy thudding footsteps of Rivet. The boy crawled under the cart. He had to be silent. The Hex had a remarkable hearing. If The Hex would hear him, he would be caught in an instant, and if the boy would be lucky in that case, soon dead.
The boy maneuvred himself under the cart away from the two. The Hex’ long black and ragged kirtle and filthy legs were just beside the cart, with the sandals and large, oily calves of Rivet.
The Hex touched the cart, and it went ablaze with fire. The heat was unbearable. The carts’ floor wasn’t yet in fire, but the smoke made the boy cough and feel dizzy. He held his breath, and pushed his mouth to his arm against the coughing. He had to move.
The boy crawled out, from the side away from the two he was hiding from. He could see them still walking slowly, backs toward him. He made a run for it, and headed to the stairs under the clocktower.
He got there. He hurried behind a low wall, and rushed down on his hands. He panted heavily, and rubbed his wrists, which he just hit on the floor tiles. He could not hear anything, except the burning city, collapsing roofs and the eerie silence of absent people. The town was becoming annihilated, and there was almost no one around to scream for fear, sorrow of losing homes or death.
The boy crawled further. He was now just opposite the door leading to the clocktower. He considered peeking over the wall, to see where the two were. He glanced at the door. It wasn’t open, and he didn’t know if it was locked or not. He risked to peek over the wall.
The Hex and Rivet stood there, near the almost burnt cart, side by side, looking straight at him. He jumped up and rushed to the door.
The door wasn’t locked, but he had to push hard to open it. He didn’t have to look to see what the two were doing. The screeching had already started, and it was coming closer very fast.
Inside there were the stairs to the clocktower, three storeys up. The boy ran, leapt two stairs at once. He panted, moaned from fear. He had to be there first. It had to be there what he was looking for!
He got there. He almost fell to ground, but knew that just now he had to stay up and find a way to escape the two.
The boy looked around. The large bell hung there, in the middle of the room. Ropes hung from the inside of the bell. Large open windows let the gleaming of the burning town inside. The screeching had stopped. The Hex had to be somewhere near. The boy took a brick from the ground, and sneaked along the wall.
With a screeching voice, The Hex bellowed ”There you are!”. The boy twirled and shot the brick from his hand towards The Hex, and hit the face. The Hex flew uncontrollably backwards, as she had been a sack of straw, with somersaults in the air, flew back inside and bounced around the clocktower. The boys’ ears cracked at the earthmoving screaming. The Hex held the brick-stricken face, rebounded from the large bell, flew up, collided to the roof, and fell to the clocktower floor, face down. Silence fell.
The boy took a step towards The Hex. He kicked the witch around, and she gurgled a sound as she turned. The boy jumped over her, took her collars and shook her violently.
”Where is it?!” he demanded.
”Where is whaat..?” The Hex snarled, spat thick blood.
”What you took from me!” the boy yelled and shook her again.
The boy continued ”I know you took something from me! I want it back! Give it back!” He clasped his hand and hit the witch in the face.
The Hex let out a despising snicker, coughed soppily. Thick blood spilt from her mouth and nose. ”Listen, Poet boy” she gurgled. ”This is your death.”
She continued ”You will never go back to the life you had before. You know what fear does to a man? You can feel it in you, eh? Heh... We took something that can never be given back, never.” The witch coughed hard, grimaced and looked like she was about to die.
She gathered her last strength, tried to come closer to the boy.
”We took your innocence, boy.”
The Hex died, her head slumped backwards. A small screech went off, and her gray, tangled hair waved a little.
The boy heard a thud behind him. He let the witch fall to the ground and stood up, turned around. Rivet stood there, menacingly. The helmet Rivet wore seemed like it had nothing in it. With a heavy thud, Rivet came closer, and the boy took steps away. Rivet crouched, took The Hex from her collar, and dragged her away.
”No! Not this way” the boy cursed in his mind. They were already close. He could see their legs and hear the heavy thudding footsteps of Rivet. The boy crawled under the cart. He had to be silent. The Hex had a remarkable hearing. If The Hex would hear him, he would be caught in an instant, and if the boy would be lucky in that case, soon dead.
The boy maneuvred himself under the cart away from the two. The Hex’ long black and ragged kirtle and filthy legs were just beside the cart, with the sandals and large, oily calves of Rivet.
The Hex touched the cart, and it went ablaze with fire. The heat was unbearable. The carts’ floor wasn’t yet in fire, but the smoke made the boy cough and feel dizzy. He held his breath, and pushed his mouth to his arm against the coughing. He had to move.
The boy crawled out, from the side away from the two he was hiding from. He could see them still walking slowly, backs toward him. He made a run for it, and headed to the stairs under the clocktower.
He got there. He hurried behind a low wall, and rushed down on his hands. He panted heavily, and rubbed his wrists, which he just hit on the floor tiles. He could not hear anything, except the burning city, collapsing roofs and the eerie silence of absent people. The town was becoming annihilated, and there was almost no one around to scream for fear, sorrow of losing homes or death.
The boy crawled further. He was now just opposite the door leading to the clocktower. He considered peeking over the wall, to see where the two were. He glanced at the door. It wasn’t open, and he didn’t know if it was locked or not. He risked to peek over the wall.
The Hex and Rivet stood there, near the almost burnt cart, side by side, looking straight at him. He jumped up and rushed to the door.
The door wasn’t locked, but he had to push hard to open it. He didn’t have to look to see what the two were doing. The screeching had already started, and it was coming closer very fast.
Inside there were the stairs to the clocktower, three storeys up. The boy ran, leapt two stairs at once. He panted, moaned from fear. He had to be there first. It had to be there what he was looking for!
He got there. He almost fell to ground, but knew that just now he had to stay up and find a way to escape the two.
The boy looked around. The large bell hung there, in the middle of the room. Ropes hung from the inside of the bell. Large open windows let the gleaming of the burning town inside. The screeching had stopped. The Hex had to be somewhere near. The boy took a brick from the ground, and sneaked along the wall.
With a screeching voice, The Hex bellowed ”There you are!”. The boy twirled and shot the brick from his hand towards The Hex, and hit the face. The Hex flew uncontrollably backwards, as she had been a sack of straw, with somersaults in the air, flew back inside and bounced around the clocktower. The boys’ ears cracked at the earthmoving screaming. The Hex held the brick-stricken face, rebounded from the large bell, flew up, collided to the roof, and fell to the clocktower floor, face down. Silence fell.
The boy took a step towards The Hex. He kicked the witch around, and she gurgled a sound as she turned. The boy jumped over her, took her collars and shook her violently.
”Where is it?!” he demanded.
”Where is whaat..?” The Hex snarled, spat thick blood.
”What you took from me!” the boy yelled and shook her again.
The boy continued ”I know you took something from me! I want it back! Give it back!” He clasped his hand and hit the witch in the face.
The Hex let out a despising snicker, coughed soppily. Thick blood spilt from her mouth and nose. ”Listen, Poet boy” she gurgled. ”This is your death.”
She continued ”You will never go back to the life you had before. You know what fear does to a man? You can feel it in you, eh? Heh... We took something that can never be given back, never.” The witch coughed hard, grimaced and looked like she was about to die.
She gathered her last strength, tried to come closer to the boy.
”We took your innocence, boy.”
The Hex died, her head slumped backwards. A small screech went off, and her gray, tangled hair waved a little.
The boy heard a thud behind him. He let the witch fall to the ground and stood up, turned around. Rivet stood there, menacingly. The helmet Rivet wore seemed like it had nothing in it. With a heavy thud, Rivet came closer, and the boy took steps away. Rivet crouched, took The Hex from her collar, and dragged her away.
torstai 7. toukokuuta 2015
Death of the Poet boy
Death of the Poet boy
Fire raged. The Hex laughed loudly, a sinister laugh, full of evil.
”Die die diee!” The Hex screeched somewhere above, over the burning rooftops.
The boy ran so fast that his legs felt like acid. He made a turn and ducked behind a large container. A sack squeaked under him. The boy jumped and turned, ready to strangle anything there was to.
Two eyes stared with fear in them. Fire lighet the small, ragged face.
”Where is it?!” the boy yelled.
A screeching sound went over them. The boy threw himself backwards against a brick wall. He demanded again, louder.
”Where is it?!”
He got no answer from the feary eyes. He paced to the corner, peeked around. The Hex circled around the town hall’s roof. An intense rumble went off. The boy felt the ground tremor lightly. He peeked again, and he saw a brick or two dropping from the town halls’ clocktower. He turned and ran down the alley, made a turn to right. He was heading to the town hall.
The houses were on fire ahead of him, but it looked like he could make it through the alley if he was quick enough. He stopped before a door for no reason apparent.
A man trashed through the door, flaming, screaming from pain. The man ran into the opposite wall and collapsed there. Flames came inside the house. The boy knew he couldn’t go this way.
The Hex was somewhere far, but the boy could hear the screeching sounds.
The boy came back to the alley. The sack was gone. He peeked once more around the corner. Houses burned on both sides of the wide cobbled street. It looked like he could make it unnoticed, if he would run fast from cover to cover.
He started, and a smaller tremor was felt below. The tight-fitted cobblestones jumped up from the street.
He got near the town hall. Behing a cart he was crouching, and felt tremors. He looked down. It was his feet this time, not the ground.
A huge thud. Another. Third. Footsteps. It was Rivet.
Rivet walked slowly, menacingly, into sight from an alley. The boy crouched behind the cartwheel, he listened to the footsteps.
Screeching started to come closer. It was too close already! No way he could not have realised it, The Hex had to walk to get so close without him noticing it!
Fire raged. The Hex laughed loudly, a sinister laugh, full of evil.
”Die die diee!” The Hex screeched somewhere above, over the burning rooftops.
The boy ran so fast that his legs felt like acid. He made a turn and ducked behind a large container. A sack squeaked under him. The boy jumped and turned, ready to strangle anything there was to.
Two eyes stared with fear in them. Fire lighet the small, ragged face.
”Where is it?!” the boy yelled.
A screeching sound went over them. The boy threw himself backwards against a brick wall. He demanded again, louder.
”Where is it?!”
He got no answer from the feary eyes. He paced to the corner, peeked around. The Hex circled around the town hall’s roof. An intense rumble went off. The boy felt the ground tremor lightly. He peeked again, and he saw a brick or two dropping from the town halls’ clocktower. He turned and ran down the alley, made a turn to right. He was heading to the town hall.
The houses were on fire ahead of him, but it looked like he could make it through the alley if he was quick enough. He stopped before a door for no reason apparent.
A man trashed through the door, flaming, screaming from pain. The man ran into the opposite wall and collapsed there. Flames came inside the house. The boy knew he couldn’t go this way.
The Hex was somewhere far, but the boy could hear the screeching sounds.
The boy came back to the alley. The sack was gone. He peeked once more around the corner. Houses burned on both sides of the wide cobbled street. It looked like he could make it unnoticed, if he would run fast from cover to cover.
He started, and a smaller tremor was felt below. The tight-fitted cobblestones jumped up from the street.
He got near the town hall. Behing a cart he was crouching, and felt tremors. He looked down. It was his feet this time, not the ground.
A huge thud. Another. Third. Footsteps. It was Rivet.
Rivet walked slowly, menacingly, into sight from an alley. The boy crouched behind the cartwheel, he listened to the footsteps.
Screeching started to come closer. It was too close already! No way he could not have realised it, The Hex had to walk to get so close without him noticing it!
As I traveled,
I must've left a trail always behind.
I know not this, for sure.
I could not stop.
And I could not go on like this, I knew this.
I knew I would collapse under exhaustion, under the road.
Something happened,
but not with purpose.
Trail vanished.
The road came to an end.
I quess,
what I left behind,
disappeared, maybe buried under the every year reneving foliage.
I hope.
...or to someones pocket?
I must've left a trail always behind.
I know not this, for sure.
I could not stop.
And I could not go on like this, I knew this.
I knew I would collapse under exhaustion, under the road.
Something happened,
but not with purpose.
Trail vanished.
The road came to an end.
I quess,
what I left behind,
disappeared, maybe buried under the every year reneving foliage.
I hope.
...or to someones pocket?
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