I kept counting the miles as if they were seconds I had left to live. Depite the sun settling down beneath the horizon and the particularly annoying man whining next to me, I can’t help but keep moving.
The motion seems more than my exit ticket.
It seems like a lifeline.
“Can we stop?” The Prince complained. He’d given up his pitful demands long ago. I couldn’t help but mock him in my head. _‘I, son of King Edith, demand you stop right here, or suffer you will.’ _How stupid, like any person out here with enough sense would care about any of the kings threats. We’d give anything for leverage against his highness, even eternity rotting in his rows of cells.
Rows and rows of cells.
Metal bars so rusted they don’t gleam, grimy floors with your head resting right next to a cockroach. I couldn’t help but shiver at the thought.
Kids stories, are what our parents called them growing up, but as I grow older those tales seem to be becoming true.
But I supposed that sacrifice would be worth it if we could somehow overthrow Edith, though, that doesn’t seem like it could happen anytime soon, considering his son was stranded alongside me.
We have to walk at least 50 miles to the nearest village, from there, hopefully the Prince can use some of his royal leverage to summon us a ride, that is, if he doesn’t betray me on sight.
“No,” I deadpan, focusing on footstep after footstep. The red dirt must be so deterring for his highness. I bet he only lets himself walk on fresh green grass rooted in a certain shade of brown soil.
Privileged bastard.
He let out a sigh. I silently pleaded he’d give up. I wasn’t exactly eager to become friends with the man whos father I wished death upon periodically. Unless he had daddy issues, in that case, I’m sure we would get along great.
But clearly I was stuck with daddy’s bestest boy instead. He growled in frustration and kicked some dust out of his shoe.
“Does this place ever have any grass? Or pavement?”
“Nope. Only fresh, southern dirt.” I kicked up and cloud of dust with my shoes and he coughed, as if it was toxin to his lungs.
I smirked. “Sorry.”
“I suppose that apology was not sincere?”
“I’ll let you decide.”
For a moment, we had sweet silence. A moment that tasted like honeydew and strawberries, but of course, I guess the prince doesn’t like that sweet feeling. Maybe he liked roasted chicken better.
“I feel as though I should get to know you more, considering I’m practically your captive.”
“Feel free to leave any time, buddy.” I muttered.
“Yes, well, the only thing that would do would be putting us alone.”
“Sound nice.” I countered.
The prince rolled his eyes at me. “It would do us no good. Perhaps we should start easier, something that doesn’t pervoke banter. Favorite animal?”
I hesitated. “Cats.”
The prince let out a soft snicker. I glared at him and his face straighted up, “Cats are… lovely.”
“They are.”
“Favorite food?”
“Sweet potatoes.”
“I like them better mashed.”
I nodded. Of course he does.
“Favorite color?”
I stared into the horizen, the sun setting beneath the fine line with whisps of golden and orange. Yellow swirls and pink explosions in the distance. How could I choose?”
“Gold,” I said. “Like the sunset.”
“Me too.”
I looked at the prince, “Really?”
“Gold is a lovely color. Very reflective and gorgeous.”
“It is.” I agreed, a soft smile running across my face.
“Gold, like jewels.”
I groaned and slapped myself internally.
Impossible.
Absolutely impossible.
Some nights I lay silently on the grass and listen to the trees argue. They don’t speak unless spoken to, more of a debate than an arguement. The wind influences them, pushing them to choose sides and speak. Like a soft rhythm. I like to close my eyes and imagine their noises are the ocean rushing up against the sand and sharing stories. I like to imagine a time where the trees weren’t the only ones there to discuss, when there were animals and birds on the council. They hold the last memories of them all. And now I can hear them.
Oh, how glorious it is.
Such nourishing for young minds, hail the system and it’s time.
Six hours a day of pure knowledge. What more could you ask for as an aspiring child?
Bright floresent lights to keep your mind wide. Words being writing and erased in short time.
Oh, how much I’ve always wanted to know of the acute triangles, for when I become a librarian in the future. Such topic prevokes my creativity and will to learn so much new.
Praise the monochrome textbooks, the black and white diagrams so. It gives me an unexplainable joy, looking through the words and rows.
Letters in red ink, helping my journey. Oh, what a way to spend my youth. I always wanted such anxiety to fuel, to teach me while I’m young how to worry.
I will be sure to savor these lovely days. Whenever I think of childhood, glorious memories of graphite and white slates shall appear. I’ve always wanted to live my life in a chair watching the world steer past. That’s just the way the world works, my dear.
Castles crusted with diamonds along balconies and doors. Candles glowed through the windows rimmed by lavender trees and glowing green grass. The clouds framed the speared points of the roof.
I closed my eyes and breathed in the crisp air. Deep in the distance I could hear a waterfall thudding against the rocks at the bottom of the bay.
“Payton!”
I loved the way the trees with their thin trunks grew up the mountain side. They looked like flowers in a field, standing out like a spotlight against the grass.
“Payton!”
I could feel the glossy floor of the castle was beneath me, and I could almost hear the birds calling my name in the distance.
“Payton!”
“What, Mom?” I rubbed my eyes.
“It’s time to go!”
My head snapped to the left, gazing into the clock.
8:01.
I’m late!
Thin blades creasing on fragile stone The water is so delicatly froze Cuts and spins, round and round The ice provides, without a sound
It holds up strong despite the faint scars That seem so fresh and new to its heart It invites others to step on it everytime Because their heart is too big, and little is their mind
It’s their pleasure to push people and let them glide Right over them, as they sit and hide Watching from the cave below As the very being they helped, forgets them under the snow
They give a warm drink along the way And watch them leave without pay Too scared of fate to speak up and say And just watch, watch everyone run away
A doormat, the floor, the ice they all trust Sits there while they glide, testing their luck Beautiful spins and twirls, always a must But what about the ice, undertneath such bustle? Is it left there forever, a constant muscle?
“Door shut tightly, monsters might come.” She whispered in my ear I smiled and wiped away a stray tear “What monsters are there for you to worry about, my dear?”
She shook and shivered in my arms Barely a crack through the door All I could hear was silence And her brothers soft snore
“Monsters, they come at night. They yell, scream, kick, and fight.” I nodded my head and held her tight And turned on the flashlight
She pulled a blanket over our heads “Do the monsters live under the bed?” “No, they live just outside the door.” She said
“So they come out when you sleep?” “Yeah, and they fight and talk and kick things. I think one day they’ll get rid of the their rings.”
“What will happen when one finally wins?” _“Well, you’ll have two different homes. _ You and your brother will travel from both.”
“That sound scary.” She cried mournfully I had to agree “But you are brave and strong, and can do anything.”
The front door unlocked and the door creaked open All sound disappeared, was replaced with none “Door shut tightly, monsters might come!”
Some may call it a mere accident, but the trees who whistled their warnings might say otherwise.
Their leaves shook in a loud, crying plea to any animal. Oh, how much they wanted them to understand. Yet every night they’d watch those poor creatures wander past their gates, not able to do anything but scream. The sound was always muffled, like yelling into a pillow. A noise of dispair, yet something others are unable to place.
The night was darker than most, only the stars dotted the sky. The moon left the world in the trees care.
If only they didn’t fail.
The first tree that spotted the raccoons brightly ringed tail was quick to cry out, whistling and waving their branches, but alas, they weren’t noticed.
The second and third tree continued the train, but even the tallest, loudest tree lost hope. The raccoon could hear none of them.
They all wanted to close their eyes as they watched him wander closer and closer.
But they couldn’t.
They had to watch.
Squeal!
Bam!
Tears dripped on the leaves, drops of dew that would last until the morning sun comforted them.
The forest shook at the loss, but the trees just watched and cried.
That’s all they could do, really.
They watched the scene somberly, a woman got out of the car and knelt down next to the raccoon in the headlights. She stroke his fur as he took shaky, hopeless breaths.
“It’s okay.” Her voice was high-pitched and mournful. “You’re going to a better place. I promise.”
The trees chimed in with their agreement.
Then she plunged a knife into the raccoons chest.
You kiss my cheek every morning Your lips bright red Your hair tied up And now your brother is dead
An evening before You wore dark purple And evening gown You got payed triple
The week before then Your hair was woven That very day You got cursed by a coven
The day before You were two-inches higher That was the day Your parents died in a fire
Keep changing, my dear Good fortune will come Through good and bad And repetitive scum
I will make you perfect Keep testing you, love You will be mine always Like a pretty little dove
Maislie Lacy Her name smooth like silk Sat in the barn Collecting milk
Her brown hair woven upon her head Her lips bold, the shade of dark red Her eyes are like the suns heat in winter Making all the snow soft Oh, Maislie Lacy She could stop a bull from charging off
She carries that bucket of milk up the hill The same one every day I watch her from the pastures, the pastures wide field Hoping maybe someday
Maislie Lacy, oh how do you know Exactly how to sew my heart together
Maislie Lacy, oh If only you could see what you made of me If only we weren’t separated forever
My love reins from a distance Like a lockets quiet promise Yet mine is forever sealed
Oh, Maislie Lacy Have you ever seen me Sneaking out to the barn? Well it’s you I’m coming to see
Despite all odds I’d follow you To the cursed land under I’d sit under the trees When the night is full of thunder
Maislie Lacy, oh how do you know Exactly how to pull me in tow
Maislie Lacy, oh Maybe someday you will know How to love me as I show
Mon shouldn’t have cursed the moment the red laser pointed to his heart.
Mon also shouldn’t have made it very clear that he was the target by batting at the laser on his chest like a cat-gorilla.
Mon _also _shouldn’t have ducked behind the nearest body, which happened to be a fair looking lady in two inch high heels, immediately after.
Bam!
Mon wanted to cover his ears at the loud shot, like a bomb erupting in the middle of the crowded street.
The place seemed to radiate heat, everyone flashing and flailing like a tsunami, screams bursted as everyone pushed and shoved to get away from the bullet. Unfortunately for Mon, that included the two-inch high heeled lady.
Mom was left hunched on the ground, vulnerable and far too close to the bullet lodged into the concrete.
The red laser danced the cracked sidewalk and Mon scurried up, rushing with the crowd.
Blend in.
Blend in.
Blend in.
Nope!
He leaped out of the way just in time as another bullet struck.
“Far too close for comfort.” Mon muttered under his breath, scanning the rows of windows and windows.
The assassin had to be perched somewhere.
Bam!
God, why were buildings in this city so tall?
“There!” Mon yelled, the noise covering up his discovery.
At least ten floors up, third window out of twelve sat a figure dressed in all black. His mask of pointed like a bird and gun aimed… directly to Mon’s chest.
The streets were clear now, oh how quick did the people of Pollen flee at the sound of danger. Mon wasn’t sure if he should be glad civilians weren’t in harm or scared because now he was a target on a range. He could almost see red and white circles on his chest as the laser aligned. He twisted to the side as it shot.
He had to pull out the hard hat, didn’t he?
Mon barely had enough time to sigh as he dug through his backpack, which was only occupied by one thing, a thick, yellow hard hat.
He placed it on his head and almost like magic his day clothes faded. His jacked melted into dust and his T-shirt was replaced by a thin sheet of metal covered by matching yellow fabric. A green logo was pressed against his chest.
Mom looked utterly ridiculous, and he knew that, but apparently people love a good hero, no matter what bright, stupid outfit they were wearing.
He looked like a banana that wasn’t quite ripe.
Mom stomped his foot and the asphalt erupted like a volcano.
Hopefully he wouldn’t be charged.
He stepped on the platform which carried him up towards the tenth floor window like an elevator.
Shots fired beside him, but he could find a reason to care anymore.
“Stop that.” Mon told the sniper, grabbing the front of his gun and pulling it away from him. He felt like he was taking a toy from a toddler. That was probably because the suit increased his height by a foot, which was the only benefit it supplied when it came to looks:
The sniper fell back through the window, debating whether to fight the banana man or run.
“Yeah, you better run.” Mon said, watching the figure run down the stairs.
That’ll do it.
Bam!
Oh, of course.
Another one.
(I apologize to all of those who have read this goofy story)
