#214 words

[our-dear-wolfpack]

Prologue.

White and red, grey, white, and red. That’s all that sheath`claws had seen among his peers and packmates, another war...as usual. Another war that had started over the lack of prey around the cold, scarce island. At this point, these wars were practically normal, however, sheath`claw was starving, his dark brown pelt seeming to almost stick to his ribs, his breath hanging gently in the air as a gentle cloud. Leaves were crunching beneath his paws as he ran to his opponents to protect his clan, and to ensure he would be able to eat SOMETHING for once, to at least be able to not feel his stomach gnawing at his flesh for one night, to at the very least get some energy back as sheath`claws would hope. However, his hope would go unknown as he heard a harsh bark from across the cold swamp, having only just started to frost for the late autumn season “SHEATH`CLAWS, HARLOT`SCARE GOT HER PAW RIPPED OFF, TAKE HER BACK TO CAMP!” As sheath`claws slowly picked up his bleeding packmate, he’d limp and trudge among the sludge in the green, swamped forest as he had dragged harlot`scare to camp, nothing much..just another day, just another war, just another loss.

[wordvomitlit]

As expected, Dickinson’s poems resonated very much with me, some of the ones in the packet I had read before, most notably “The Chariot.” The first line of that pome immediately draws me in each time. “Becuase I could not stop for Death.” It feels like living is so busy, and life only slows down once death draws near. So Death stopped for her instead. It’s an evocative image. I know death and dying is a common theme for her, something I probably should stay away from thinking about. Her poem “Dying” I think was analyzed by John Green on crashcourse. I remember watching it my sophomore year, and reading it, the version I found used dashes more ofthen than the one we have in this packet, and I know dashes are a staple of a Dickinson poem. The image that strikes me the most in this poem is that of the windows failing. It’s a precursor to her sayong “I could not see to see.” The windows are objects you use to see the outside world, and eyes are commonly referred to as windows to the human soul. When they fail, she could not see. Most likely she could not hear the fly that buzzed and disturbed the peace of her dying moment. 

[kiplingcabin]

I can only stand the daybreak

with a drink in my hand

She says

son, don't be a boy

be a man, have a plan

How do you combat loneliness

when circumstance has been so rough

they just say tough

deal with it

stay in line or get the hell out of it

if you do, you quit

when you're trying to please someone else

the rules are all up to them

I just miss those nights

we would cradle like the moon

airtight locking lips like sinking ships is alright

if you were my queen

I would say

just blow it all up

because my world is a lady

I am but a baby of the earth

blessed by birth

I have a lot of bets to settle

a big schedule

a lot to learn

and to dismantle

you were my alpha and omega

but i'm unworthy of your aura

blessed me by birth

but not enough to prove worth to the wicked

that you're sinister through your ignorance

i've always wanted to deal the final blow

in a battle worth fighting for

show me that this life

is worthy of the stride through the strife

show me that the green grass

is worth saving

[clarenecessities]

The time is now 8:11

It has been officially delegated designated as "crunch time"

[myaphelion]

The Sons of Fate

It’s only when you realize that you can’t stand that you know that something has to be done.

We were brothers. You were the hope that ignited a fire under the people, and the resignation of fate as you fell. You threw your hands in the air and gave yourself up, your death a sham.

And I believed my father and the gravestone that cried “Hope Rides Alone”. He told me you were dead; it told me your ideas still lived. I ran out into the night and challenged its power.

But you couldn’t stand. They had whispered to you long enough that you didn’t care anymore. You were just as bad as the leader of this dead city, broken and screaming back that you were prepared to fight against the people you once protected.

“I’ve given everything I can! There are no heroes left in man.”

I know you’re in there. I can see it in your eyes. But you break down, and the mob cries out, and there is nothing I can do.

When I couldn’t stand, you knew something had to be done.

“If these people tell this story… to their children as they sleep… maybe someday they will see… A hero’s just a man who… knows that he is free.”