Margret's Tail Chapter 1

I could feel her breaths upon the window sill and even though my existence was unknown to her, she could feel a presence something or someone who would show her the blood that stains her hands her wicked thoughts and unholy treasons; Oh how the tables turn when the dark a mere change in reflection can cause so much strife.
My soft and undetected steps make her shake, my whispering movements give her the chills; And yet she has not yet cried for help nor has she started to wail in terror but Oh how fast the tables turn when your being HUNTED!


Do you remember those tales of witches and wizards, those magical beings who cause civilizations to fall and monsters to perish; I have heard of them I have seen the result of their never-ending trouble, mischief and misfortune, but you know this is all so funny to me because these all powerful beings would be nothing without their familiar. Does it not make you double over in pain from the huge waves of laughter that overcome you, when you see a witch shribble and scream for mercy when we threaten such an insuccnificent animal; Even more funny as insuccnificent as a cat. Yes she is nothing without her familiar, Aww I believe this is a good place to start; It was a while back but I think this story may be one you will remember for ages to come.

 We must of course tell you about Margret.L.Bishop the L stands for Lisa, Margret was a very peculiar little girl born with a scar over her left palm, her mother always told her it was the scar given to her by god and his good grace to let her live. Little Margret was a strange little girl and in being strange she had no friends most people in town said the scar was the mark of the devil and anyone who spoke to her or even looked at her was sure to be dammed, and so little Margret did not play with children nor did she cry from the names and rocks thrown her way; She merely went to the forest every day after school and since her mother was not usually home at night she stayed there and didn't return home for days at a time. An advantage to being so strange was that little Margret had little reason to talk, and in turn she often found herself surrounded by the many unknown creatures in the forest; More often than not she would have a crow or two perching on her shoulder and a black snake neatly piled in her lap, these creatures were the beings she called friends.

It was the year 1688 and it was definitely a year to remember, It was summertime and the day seemed normal it started out with nothing off, it seemed even the grass was bored due to this uneventful day. Little Margret was in her class room drawing a picture of the snake that laid in her lap; With even and confident strokes she drew a beautiful snake that slithered on every edge of the parchment and it seemed that her snake had eyes that glistened like diamonds. Unfortunately happiness for Margret was a rarity and so it was expected trouble would come from it.





I would love to know if you think I should keep writing I was thinking I could turn this into a book So please leave a comment if you read it...This of course is original so don't steal. :)

Mankind

I am lost
I can feel no presence
I know of no human or animal that has a measure of significance alike mine
I have a teacher
A teller of all there is to be known of the world
She has bestowed upon me the gifts of a magi
I have sailed deep oceans with noblemen and written great works with worldly scholars
All of this I owe to her, my "teacher"
But through all her wisdom I have heard or seen of no such creature
The one of whose value is as mine
I looked upon the oracle and many great libraries with scriptures overflowing
I still have read or seen of no such monster
I've heard witches speak ancient incantations
and I have sung songs with the sirens
Out of the monsters and spirits that came none of which had a significance as is mine
Upon my dreariness and woeful thought came the final place
A painting of life and death
A tale of heaven and hell at war
The purity of truth blackened by man
 I saw upon them a thing of which is mine
Not upon the dead who will be missed
Nor the skeletons carrying away the dead, the ones with purpose
Not even of the severed limbs and broken bones discarded at random in the field of chaos and confusion
No, I saw my equal upon the shadows
A black being darker than silence
A causer of mischief and misfortune
A wielder of pain and sorrow
My equal is hated by all for all he has done
My equal is upon the wicked and the damned sadly he is to dumb to care
My equal of such trespasses is a demon
My equal is a man who dressed in black kills and dies and is born again through his ashes of filth
He sees his crimes
It is because of this he wept upon his hands
His hands
The hands stained my children's blood and scared by the scratches of the innocent
But I was wrong
I am not equal to a demon, for these are not the acts of a demon but of man
That is my equal 
My equal is man
My sins are everlasting 
My transgressions are in stone
Man is the cause for the failure of men
Man is the cause for the failure of many!




I wrote this poem based off of this Renaissance
painting.

Honestly

I’ve heard of you so uncommon it seems

the lucky few whose constant is new hopes and dreams

your everyday outlook, I hope it hits me like a beam

Transform me into something greater than myself

make me as important as those dusty tales I shelf

Great stories of a famous greek traveler

or an English man with an act for unraveling string

a rebel of sorts the everyday unraveler

like a classical tale you must dig to see what I mean.

My agenda is hidden within an old and tattered page

more often than not my purpose is found within a cage

and what really appears as old and forgotten is space age.

New and shiny just as cold as metal should be

so clean and reflective it’s you, you will see

frightened by what you can’t accept you flee

What do you run from, and where do you go?

would I know if I saw it, if I’ve been would I know?

The places in this world only a few may see

of these great cities and forgotten buildings that hold a sacred memory

like a camera whose picture you couldn’t take properly

only a feeling of that carnival and the few seconds you rode gleefully.

A day filled with nothing new but nothing old

it’s just as translucent as a storytellers stories that can never be told

when it comes to money his dollars are already sold

while playing poker he bets after his fold.

The yellow brick road has turned white due to time

it’s full of holes and scratched surfaces plus a stolen outline

we can’t accept that things change so we call it a crime

so easily accepting one day that road will pay his fine

disregarding the fact that if you have lost your way maybe I’ve lost mine

We place blame on people due to a feeling or radical thought

we don’t learn from the lessons that have already been taught

we don’t remember the battles we have already fought

in a time with so little we take a lot.

Even the world’s most extraordinary civilizations have fallen before

when we know there's nothing left we dig deeper hoping for more

with our leaders in denial an economical and ecological collapse is in store.

Quit trying to spend money you don’t own

stop trying to grow wings when we have already flown

enough of trying to be the first to reach the unknown!

ALL ORIGINAL!!!!!YAY!