The enemy of courage,
The best friend of heights;
I am fear.
I hide away
During the brightest of times.
The light,
it burns.
I strike in the dark,
Like the owl;
Whose head spins all the way around.
Happiness hardly takes me;
I am fear.
Beat me,
I always come back,
In one way or another.
Give in to me,
Give in to me,
I dare you.
I am fear.
I'll be your best friend.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Courage
"It's a test of courage, that's all," a guard a few inches away (a few inches too close, I'd say) told me with a deep, rumbling voice. Not to mention the reeking moisture that steamed from his mouth.
I felt like asking him how his onion sandwich he had for lunch was.
"But that's not even the point. We're supposed to be learning! LEARNING!" I threw my arms up for a visual to show my exasperation, because quite frankly, more than a few of the guys waiting their turn to step up were pretty beastly. Or maybe I was just extra small and measly.
Nope. No way.
The guard silenced me with an upraised hand (like he really believed that was about to help). I cooperatively turned my attention back to the clang of swords back and forth between the two inside the ring. I couldn't recall if this was with boy with the ridiculous name was supposed to be fighting in, but it made me laugh to imagine a life with a name like his.
Poor kid.
As the fight was finishing off and the obvious winner was awarded, the overly-rounded announcer's voice suddenly boomed from deep in his gut over the crowd of desperate students, bored instructors, and fat-headed guards. "Let's give one more congratulations to our newly accepted student, our winner of the twelfth round, Francis Fullerfumum of Pike!"
What were his parents thinking, honestly.
"... And remember students, you do not need to partcipate in this duel. It just takes the courage and desire to step up and fight for our place in the Knights Academy of Farland!" he paused, "And now that that's been said once more, let our thirteenth battle begin! That would be..." Another pause, as he read form the paper at his fingertips, "Finch Lee Ridda of Penn and Garrett Dill of Pike!"
My heart stopped. My name. Was that my name? I thought I heard my name. Right from the round announcer's lips, rolling off like it was nothing. And in the same sentence was the Devil himself: the monster from my childhood.
And I say "monster" for lack of a better word. "Bully", maybe. Except bullies don't usually reach six foot three by the time they hit seventh grade, possibly a result of their stupidity.
Apparently Garret Dill didn't get the memo.
This'll be a fantastic battle, I thought. And when I say fantastic I mean utterly disgusting and bloody barbarous. Literally.
I had to do it, though. I knew it, and it ran through my blood and thoughts and eyes and fingertips.
I stepped up to the ring, and slung myself through the ropes lining the rectangle of Hell.
I felt like asking him how his onion sandwich he had for lunch was.
"But that's not even the point. We're supposed to be learning! LEARNING!" I threw my arms up for a visual to show my exasperation, because quite frankly, more than a few of the guys waiting their turn to step up were pretty beastly. Or maybe I was just extra small and measly.
Nope. No way.
The guard silenced me with an upraised hand (like he really believed that was about to help). I cooperatively turned my attention back to the clang of swords back and forth between the two inside the ring. I couldn't recall if this was with boy with the ridiculous name was supposed to be fighting in, but it made me laugh to imagine a life with a name like his.
Poor kid.
As the fight was finishing off and the obvious winner was awarded, the overly-rounded announcer's voice suddenly boomed from deep in his gut over the crowd of desperate students, bored instructors, and fat-headed guards. "Let's give one more congratulations to our newly accepted student, our winner of the twelfth round, Francis Fullerfumum of Pike!"
What were his parents thinking, honestly.
"... And remember students, you do not need to partcipate in this duel. It just takes the courage and desire to step up and fight for our place in the Knights Academy of Farland!" he paused, "And now that that's been said once more, let our thirteenth battle begin! That would be..." Another pause, as he read form the paper at his fingertips, "Finch Lee Ridda of Penn and Garrett Dill of Pike!"
My heart stopped. My name. Was that my name? I thought I heard my name. Right from the round announcer's lips, rolling off like it was nothing. And in the same sentence was the Devil himself: the monster from my childhood.
And I say "monster" for lack of a better word. "Bully", maybe. Except bullies don't usually reach six foot three by the time they hit seventh grade, possibly a result of their stupidity.
Apparently Garret Dill didn't get the memo.
This'll be a fantastic battle, I thought. And when I say fantastic I mean utterly disgusting and bloody barbarous. Literally.
I had to do it, though. I knew it, and it ran through my blood and thoughts and eyes and fingertips.
I stepped up to the ring, and slung myself through the ropes lining the rectangle of Hell.
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