I turn the 'OPEN' sign over. Another day in the DMV. I get in earlier than Tholm, which is unusual. He comes in, panting. Claims something crazy just happened.
Eh. I don't really care anymore. It's only a year or two until I can get into art college, where I might have a bit more imagination. But here? Eh.
"No, really, it really happened!" says Tholm, "Eveything, was, like, glowing!" he says. "Just your imagination. Or maybe a Christmas tree." "I'm not joking!" "Fine, I'll check it. You keep an eye on my stall," I say.
So, I look outside, and I trip. When I get up, it's darker than before. Trippy. Somebody spilled something below me. I fall in this, too. That's strange. How deep does it go? I take a stick, and start to prod it. It's really deep, and looks like gold. Then, it starts rapidly increasing. I run back, startled. I try to let go of the stick, but I can't. Then, all of a sudden, it pulls me in. Everything is gold. But then, the puddle shuts. Everything goes black.
In amidst the darkness, a single candle glows. This turns into a crowd of gold, cheering into the above and then pops.This happens again. And again. Soon, the whole sky is full with flying, golden tears. It is honestly beautiful. Trees of gold are erupting below my feet, and I take it all in. Another wormhole opens, and then it's gone.
I run back to tell Tholm he wasn't lying, and it gets lighter outside as I walk. I pause. This could be my own special secret! The day continues, regular as ever.
The next morning, I wake up to a letter on my front porch. It's from an art college!
"Dear Ebenezer Davies, We have accepted your paragraph. Please enter our art show, which could grant you a place at our school."
Oh my God! Finally! I must think of something to draw, though. How about... the wormhole? That's an amazing idea! So I get to work, using every colour, shape and texture I can, shaping the world I visited yesterday. This looks perfect!
On my way to post it in the mail, the same thing, same wormhole, exact same place, comes again. I'm a lot less hesitant this time. I fasten my bag and jump in, but before I get inside, I hear a voice in my head.
"You have revealed our secrets."
Our secrets? I didn't even know this place existed! And how?
"This world is not your world. If anybody outside of our world tell others about the world, it will disappear."
What about Tholm? He told me!
"He did not actually enter. You had the courage to go inside, and so we have told you our secrets. But, only people with courage can know."
Or what?
"Or..." and then the voice fades out. I return to the outside world.
I take this with a grain of salt, and go on to mail my painting. At the post office, I mail the painting to the art college and walk back. The wormhole comes back. It gets bigger. And bigger. Soon it takes up the whole street.
"You told."
It's that stupid voice again.
"You will not tell again."
How are you gonna make me?
And then, I fall in the wormhole. This time, there is no exit. I will live in this world, for I told their secrets.
Alone, in a small greenhouse, lived a goblin. Not just an ordinary goblin, a ground-goblin. Do you wish for me to elaborate?
Ground-goblins are goblins who have origins in plant-life, originally being a small shrub themself. This particular ground-goblin decided to spend his life looking after the green that could one day become his brother.
Not just an ordinary greenhouse, either.
The walls were gently strummed with rich foliage, whittling down to the ground, where plenty of vegetation glittered the floor. Flora blocked the entry and exit- so most of the time, this goblin had to crawl out of the window to get out. The windows were bulging with the sun, and rays of light snuck through to help the plants grow.
This goblin was called Pax. This is where our story starts.
One day, after watering his plants, Pax decided to go for a walk. So he snuck out the window and landed with a bang on the shrubs. Now, goblins don't speak English like you and me, so I will have to transalate it. "Sorry, plant dudes," he whispered.
On his walk, he found a lone cactus sitting atop a mount. "Lonely little fella," Pax sighed, and then decided to take the cactus back home. "OUCH!" he yelled out, whilst he was trying to pick it up. He must have to find a better way to take it home.
Then he desired to ... _borrow _a cherry-picker from the neighbours. "Oi, you, come back!" Gary screamed, furious.
Gary was gaining on him! "Quick!" Pax sweated, clearly nervous. Once he had reached the cactus, he gently scooped him up and perched him upon the shoulder of the machine. "Come on!" They changed directions, nearly making it back home, but stopped. For.... all of his shrubs were gone! They had all turned into goblins!
"For we must look after this cactus, my sons," Pax said, "As one day, they will walk and talk like us."
And, years and years later, the cactus never grew into a goblin. Why? Nobody knows. But perhaps it was because he was the joy of the goblins, and they all enjoyed looking after him instead of fighting, like most goblins do. Maybe it was because he wasn't really a plant, and he was a fake. But, whatever you think, the goblins all lived in harmony, looking after plants, Thanks for reading.
Rolf's Story- It was... tolerable weather outside. Nothing special, of course, for it was the middle of March, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the storms a few weeks ago.
I suppose you'd want a bit of backstory. Call me Rolf.
Modern life was killing me, man. I couldn't bear another day with _phones _or television. So I went to life in the mountains. For a profession... I guess you could say I'm a spy. Not, like, in the big-city all fancy way, but I like to watch my fellow people from the top of my triangle.
That's basically it.
So, anyways, after hunting a bit of game I saw this huge bear. Proper came up to me and everything. At first, I wasn't worried, but it let out this massive roar. I screamed. I started to run back, but it just wouldn't stop. I dropped some of my supplies, and then it grabbed on and wouldn't let go to my bag. I was now proper terrified. I yelled out, and just for one second wished that I didn't pick a life of a hermit. Just for a second, though.
Olaf's Story- Today, the weather was rather cold. I didn't feel like going on a hike today, but I needed to get the steps in. I got out my map, and though that the mountain would be a nice place to go. I heard that there's somebody who lives up there. Poor man, living all on his own.
So, about half an hour in, I begin to hear this weird screech coming from the bushes. I ponder, for it must be a small rabbit or marsupial. I shrug it off, and walk on.
A few minutes, I realise that it's getting dark. The fog is so outrageous I can barely see my own hands. I decide to head back now. Walking down, I hear that screech again. It doesn't sound like a small mammal. In fact, the shadows on the tree base tell me that it's something much bigger. I peer over, and to my dismay, I see a small man being attacked by a huge bear!
Al's Story- As mountain-control ranger, it is my duty to protect people who have lost their way on their way up there. Today, It's one of those days that start off sunny and fine, but by the end you wish you were dead. It all started when I saw a flare.
I hoped that it's just something insignificant, like somebody caught in a nettle or something. So, I took my helicopter up to check it out, and to my shock, there was a large bear, standing right below me!
I land and start to decide what to do with this bear. That's when I find out I forgot my tranquilliser. I must have left it at the camp. I stand back, for I have no defence myself. What could happen?
The End- Panicking, Al throws a rock at the bear. This only angries the bear further. It begins to lunge at him, when two figures rise up, one visibly tired and the other in pain. It is Olaf and Rolf. They corner the bear, and leave it in the middle. For anyone of them could sacrifice themself to give enough time for the other one to escape. But who will?
Al is a mountain-control ranger, as Olaf recognises in his badge. This is a high level of authority, and is responsible for saving many lives. Rolf is an advocate for the people stuck in the past- he has shown everyone that a life in the mountains is possible. Olaf takes these into account, and then speaks four very powerful words.
"I will be important."
He then proceeds to lunge at the bear.
Thank you for reading.
Some poems have rhythm, rhymes and technique, This one doesn't. I am here to tell you about stories and verses, Hidden beneath the covers.
Something can run or hide, or leap and dance, solve a mystery, or run a marathon.
All you need is a subject. A person, a thing, whatever. The rest folds out, alike the page.
Coming down my letterbox, a shiver down my spine I rush outside to find the streets deserted. A humble knock is all it takes for me to look inside, And I see a small envelope inserted.
I gently take it out, and rest it on the stove, I singe it with a flame and it opens. A postcard is at view, with small letters backside, My luck is getting better, I hopens.
"Dear who it may concern, a story is to turn, I know you in certain. We've plenty adventured, oh, the places we've entered I'm write behind your curtain."
I look at the bottom, for there is written: "From you."
Something fake, not even awake, amidst the darkness, crying. "It could cause the abolting," no hands dolting, one brave man, trying. Memories pure, they've seen the world, forever cold, untrue, Even though it cannot speak, a warm, sunny Peru.
A holiday in the mind, Is all it has to remind, Everything's a hood, Until you've saw the good.
