If you Want the Crown, All you Have to do Is Come and Get it.


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DEATH

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THIS BLOG POST MAY NOT BE AS MORBID AS THE TITLE MIGHT SUGGEST. ALTHOUGH IT MIGHT. I SUPPOSE IT COULD DEPEND ON YOUR POINT OF VIEW. I love death. Not the twisted arms and legs, torso cut into pieces, struck down by a heart attack, kind of death, but a particular character in a series of books by a now ( sadly ) deceased author. And if you haven't figured it out, his name was Terry Pratchett. But this isn't really about Sir Pterry, or even Discworld. Its about appropriation. I didn't mean to steal this character, and two others ( The death of Rats, and Quoth the raven he rides on ) for my own nefarious ends. It happened some years ago, sort of by accident. Few people can fail to have encountered those posters who, WRITE IN ALL CAPS, NO MATTER WHAT THE TOPIC. Usually making statements and claims one thinks are, lets say 'odd'. ( Or.. flying mammal poo bonkers ) And I am no exception. And every time I have, the first thought in my head was of Sir Pterr
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Ariol and the Dragon Part 3 of 3.

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Begin from part 1,  Here. Read part 2,  Here. The army had in fact, reached the village of Fustal, Headed by King Marek with his Son Tarac by his side. Prince Karal had been left in Orathim to organize the rest of the troops who were answering the Proclamation beacons. The plan, agreed in the small council, was for the army now in Fustal, to 'contain' the Dragon until the rest of the army had been assembled and provisioned. This second force would then join the rest of the army. Then it was planned to attack the dragon with overwhelming force. With the king and his eldest son were about 400 men, mostly armed either with weapons from the kingdoms armoury, or with their own swords shields and armour. Athnic had 50 men to organise and assemble his Trebuchet and the three working Ballistae. About 100 men were mounted, all the 'standing army' and the 'Knights': lords of manors in the kingdom, and some 40 or so men of the kingdom who were wealthy enough to
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Biker secret.

Things move in the depths, Strange things, odd things. Things without names Things without form Thoughts Ephemeral Dreams cast upon winds Time drawn in the hollows. Memories. Beauty on two wheels. I rode with him. Arms holding him, Feeling he was mine, Relishing every moment Wind in my hair, Alone with him, On the road. The two of us Together. And then it would end. at my own door. Stepping off the bike. Handing him back His spare helmet. I say "thanks" His beautiful face Smiles at me I melt, If only.. "No problem mate," he says. I smile back. He puts down his visor, That big engine revvs, He turns And is gone Sooner than it takes to write it. And I know soon, Other arms will circle him, On the open road. Arms he will seek For affection and more. And I know I can never have him. And I hide sorrow behind my eyes, As I say Hi To family, Who must not see, A love I cannot tell. And later alone, I weep silently u
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