Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Tale Weaver’s prompt about a quest, such as the ones JRR Tolkien writes about in his famous books.
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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie
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Dragons are here, I know it
Dragons beware, my sword is sharp
Sharp as the knives hid on my body
Sharp as the tongue of my wife
Wife said, “Do not go”
Wife begged, yet I went
Went through the haunted forest dark
Went through the storms, muck, and mire
Mire as quicksand, sucked in my body
Mire that almost swallowed my life
Life burnt a flaming hole so wide
Life’s flame would not flicker out
Out of the muck and mire pulled
Out of certain death to rescue a princess
Locked in a tower for my Lord, my King
Locked in a tower and languishing.
Languished she did for centuries
Languished as a spell had been cast
Cast, so she would always sleep
Cast, because evil always hates
Hates beauty and goodness
Hates who this princess is said to be
Be afraid though, I warn you, friend
Be vigilant in your task to save
Saving the princess isn’t the challenge
Saving her, I wondered, where is the dragon?
Dragon she rose from the depths of beauty
Dragon was the the princess herself
Herself screaming, “I am the dragon”
Herself shouting, “I will eat you whole”
Wholly she transformed in that fiery beast
Wholly she was a scaled, sulphereous demon
Demon who cried, “I am no damsal in distress”
Demon who seethed, “I protect me”
Me, I gazed upon the languishing beauty
Me, my eyes met the dragons yellow-eyed stare
Stared into my soul, saw I was a ruin
Stared into my heart, saw I was wretched
Wretched cursed princess, the dragon?
Wretched as the princess waiting
Waiting and no one came so she grew tired
Waiting as she wrecks her vengeance
Vengeance because no hero is true
Vengeance, she can depend only on herself, no heroes
Hereo, the archetypal kind who abuse poor maidens
Heroe, is there such a man who ever existed?
Existed a hero she once did love
Existed her hero but he never came — she remains cursed
Cursed though she be, I could not destroy the beast
Cursed, she knows not why she is punished, cursed.
Beast but still a girl, so I left, ashamed I could not save her.
Cursed, she lingers on my mind, the maiden, the dragon as one
Thanks to Mind Love’s Misery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weavers Fairytale prompt. This months prompt is: a tale with fruit.
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Mara Eastern——
Jared was the kind of man who made any woman who saw him stop and stare. He was classically handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes; he was told he resembled a thirty-five-year-old Brad Pitt.
Jared was blessed, but he didn’t realize how much. He owned his dream company, made tens of millions of dollars early in his career, had mansions all over the world, cars of various makes and models from classics to brand new, as well as, any toy he desired — skidoos, motorcycles, dirt bikes, (etc).
Yet, Jared was alone in life. He had no emotional relationship with any woman he dated. He felt many women and men were worthless beings, wasting their life focusing on helping others and building relationships which, ultimately, ended.
Jared believed he was “better” than other people due to his wealth, prestige, and attractiveness. He knew he needed a partner, a woman who had similar qualities to him. He also knew it wouldn’t be a love match for he had no love in his heart.
One night at a charity reception, a hideous girl named Ali approached Jared. She carried with her a basket of the most delicious looking apples.
People were drawn to their ruby shine and many people begged Ali to have one of her apples. Yet, they cringed at her repulsive faces and body, ravaged by burns and disease.
Ali’s form was bent and crippled and she dragged behind her a club foot. Her eyes were beady and when she opened her mouth, she revealed rotten teeth with many missing. Her basket of apples, in fact, was the only attractive quality about Ali with exception of her beautiful golden hair. It was thick, lustrous, and reached her waist.
Jared was appalled when Ali approached him but he noticed her mouthwatering basket of apples. As with everyone, he was drawn to them. But Jared didn’t understand why Ali carried the apples around, not willing to give them to anyone, despite offers of large sums of money and contacts for proceeders to alter her appearance.
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“What do you want?” Jared asked Ali, gazing down on her in her repulsive ugliness.
Ali laughed. Her voice deceivingly youthful, “I can give you anything you desire with these apples. What you want the most will be yours with only one bite.”
“Yeah right,” said Jared. “Why would you give me a bite of one of your apples? And for free? You’d be stupid to do that.”
Ali giggled,”I didn’t say I’d give you a bite for free. Nothing’s free in this world as you well know.”
Jared peered again at the apples which called to him, a sirens song from forbidden fruit,”What’s your price hag?”
Ali smiled and her rotten teeth and foul breath made Jared take a step-back. He knew what the ugly woman would request, but for some reason, he let her ask for what she wanted.
“I want a kiss. A real one,” Ali said.”For a kiss I will give you one apple. Perhaps, then, you will find the woman who will truly be your other half.”
Jared gasped, afraid the horrid woman could read his mind. He nodded to her and said: “I accept your bargain.”
“My names Ali,” she said and drew closer to Jared. She stopped for a moment,”This will only work if you truly desire a partner to love, with a pure-heart.”
Jared brushed Ali’s words aside, “My intentions are honourable enough.” He tried not to gag as Ali’s mouth drew closer. But he stared at her gorgeous red apples and imagined an apple in his mouth; it was how he managed kissing Ali.
Her lips were dry as they rasped against his. Ali’s tongue dove in his mouth and when she groaned, he felt as if he might throw-up. She bit his lip and she laughed when he cringed.
When Ali stopped kissing Jared, she stepped back, her mouth in a mischievous smile. She drew a beautiful ruby apple from her basket and presented it to Jared with gnarled fingers.
Jared grabbed the apple, greedy for its taste. He gorged on it as if he was Eve and the apple, the forbidden fruit in Eden.
Suddenly, both Jared and Ali began to glow with white light. While Jared withered, developing scars and burns all over his skin, Ali became stunningly beautiful. She became a curvaceous and breath-taking woman in her prime. She attracted the crowd in the room to her presence.
Jared’s hair had fallen out and his expensive clothes hung on him as his muscle tone disappeared. In minutes, no one recognized Jared; he was as ugly and as repulsive as Ali had been. His only remaining attractive feature were his bright blue-eyes.
A beautiful golden haired goddess stood before Jared. She sighed, grasping his scarred hand.
“I told you Jared. You had to want what you desired with a pure-heart. You had to be ready to love the perfect woman for you; but you love no one but yourself. I was the perfect woman for you, but you loath me. You called me a hag.”
Jared laughed, “You were disgusting and now you made me disgusting too.”
Ali let go of Jared’s hand, offering the basket of apples to him:
“Only, give an apple to the most loathsome and disgusting person you can find on the earth. Remember appearances are not everything and under the most beautiful and sometimes successful people, hides a monster,” Ali warned.
“You’re a monster Jared, but you have been given a chance to redeem yourself. To learn to love and be human, until you find the most terrible woman and find the smallest glimmer of hope inside her. She will either become your true–love and save both you and her, or become as you have, taking your place. You will return to your former privileged life and body, but with a changed heart. You will know when you find the right person and will wander the earth until then.”
Ali dropped Jared’s hand and disappeared into the crowd. No one noticed him for once. They only noticed Ali who had become his philanthropic sister. She became owner of all his wealth, company, mansions, and life, when he disappeared.
Jared wandered the earth an evil gnarled old man for years and years. Some say, he still wanders today. No one knows if he’s changed.
Finally, our prompt (optional, as always!) Today’s prompt comes to us from Megan Pattie, who points us to the work of the Irish poet Ciaran Carson, who increasingly writes using very long lines. Carson has stated that his lines are (partly) based on the seventeen syllables of the haiku, and that he strives to achieve the clarity of the haiku in each line. So today, Megan and I collectively challenge you to write a poem with very long lines. You can aim for seventeen syllables, but that’s just a rough guide. If you’re having trouble buying into the concept of long lines, maybe this essay on Whitman’s infamously leggy verse will convince you of their merits. Happy writing!
This is the slow road to hell, sinking in this summer heat.
A lonileness so deep, you would never even believe it.
Occupy yourself, no one can live life for you.
But I’m down that road and there’s nothing that I can do.
See these lines on the horizon, they lead to nothing,
They lead to nowhere, and it’s there I must be going.
Spend some time with me, well you’ve planned every weekend,
And I’m down that road, it’s a road that no one’s going.
Read everything, caught some sun, drank some inspirational tequila.
You’ll never see me going, your living your life like the wind blowing.
Fan the flames that this summer heat waves maken’.
I feel incomplete the more time life is a going.
I never made that choice to be a part and be frustrated.
You live your lives, you don’t think of me,
If I’m not in that moment, it’s to hell I must be going.
But I’m on that road, and it’s a solitary journey.
You’ll never know that kind of isolation, in your own lives.
I know you you’d never be forgotten, but you’ll never slow.
All these fake tears, well the sun burns those to salt.
And I’m down that road and it’s a hot mess for a stranger.
Don’t you know I’m going as fast as I can, but I can’t keep chasen’.
For me you won’t be slowen’, all our lives have been forgotten.
You forget mine went to pieces, so little do you know or wonder what I go through.
Life must be easy, you’ve never been down that road.
And you don’t stop to think of all the commotion, that I must undergo without my independence.
6 years is along time to be trapped in sandy places.
But I’m down that road and it’s heading into the setting sun.
I’m down that road, where the pavements baked to ashes.
It’s a hell trying attempting to live, when half the time you’ve been forgotten.
Too much effort, too much years, too much going on in your lives.
But I’m down that road no one gave me a choice about it.
I’m down that road and I’m afraid that you’ve forgotten.
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