To love another, as any other, would be sound,
As long as that other suits those that surround you.
To love another who would stand the same as you:
Is to stain the very nature of purity and good;
Or so they would have it understood.
Yet who are they to say that we are not free?
We who bathe in just as much liberty.
Liberty that allows us to commit sin or crime,
To dive head first into a hedonists curse and yet…
Yet we are not given the right to love.
To love another, as any other, should be sound.
Why should we, as we live and breathe;
Not receive the reprieve granted without labour
To those who favour, those of an opposite nature?
An excuse is offered in the name of God.
A God who loves and forgives all but that;
Which men that churn with thought that lead us,
Based on scripture, old and needless.
Use to cry out “Shame!” and “Hate!”
With sense that comes two thousand years late.
Why should we fight for a right that is free
For those that would love conventionally?
It is not a case of needing to be,
What normality is seen as by society.
But who we are born to be naturally.
Few things:
Firstly: I am about to reach a stage where by I can start sending my book out to potential publishers. Exciting.
Secondly: I now have a facebook page. Please head over and like it for updates and various bits and pieces.
(http://www.facebook.com/pages/Oliver-Horsfall/309200252455821)
Thirdly: I can also be found on Webook. It;s great, I don;t use it too much BUT the concept is amazing and if you’re a writer I highly recommend it for any small side projects you might be doing. Here you can find the prologue and first chapter of my novel.
(http://www.webook.com/submission.aspx?p=4db740462a7e460084005539781726dc&st=4b355e334a6148b1ab410f5d10486b99)
Finally: Thanks for following me, I ain’t got many of you guys but I appreciate you all whether you are friend, fellow writer, emotional traveller or just like to have a read.
:D Ollie. x
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/OllieHorsfall
Obviously the first extract with any semblance of dialogue in it. It’s curious when writing dialogue for characters as you have to find speech habits for them. Anyway I introduce a new main character here, not your average though: a Husky puppy, named Cshartwe AKA Ice.
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I woke then to the sound of footsteps, the sound of sniffing, a low growl. I didn’t open my eyes and Arren whispered something to me but my ears were frozen and my fingertips felt the pinch of cold and I couldn’t focus on the noise. I shivered a little and Arren grabbed me around the waist. It took me a moment to realise I had opened my eyes but they were covered by something. I tried to raise my hand but Arren held it down and whispered something to me again.
“…what it is…”
I whispered back , my voice barely coming from my mouth as I realised my throat was constricted by the cold too. “What?”
The sniffing now came towards us and I noticed a few shoots of light coming from the thick rag of our coats and I saw the shadow of a nose, and felt the warm breath of whatever it was, the same low growl, sounding a kin to a machine just before it breaks down.
“I said… ‘I don’t know what it is.’ It’s some kinda furry… thing? I didn’t get a good look; just heard it.” He sounded panicked and I rolled my eyes realising that he wasn’t restraining me, rather holding me for comfort.
Arrens’ breathing was barely controlled: it sounded like the panting of someone who had been running for a while and then he went dead silent and I felt something shake his leg, his boot was being tugged at. Whatever it was knew we were there so I tried once again to lift my head, this time pinching Arren; he released the grip slightly, holding back a yelp the cold subsiding as I took the coat from off my head.
The sunlight was blinding, the snow was pure white and made the light brighter still and the only feature that ruined its perfection was the soot from our now failed fire. The black of the ash seemed to have stayed in one place, the wind still non-existent. The creature sat on it’s hind legs and pawed at Arrens’ boot and then tried to gnaw on it. I frowned and then let out a cracked chuckle still wary, but no longer in any way scared; since it seemed rather distracted by the material of the boot.
I spoke this time louder than before and half smiled at the small mammal before me, it was clearly young, with long white hairs that receded to a deep bluey-grey it’s tail was about a quarter the size of its body and was all bluey-grey and bushy until the tip. I reminded me of the moon the night before. It peered up at me suddenly and it’s eyes startled me slightly.
“H-hey Arren, it’s fine… it’s some kind of… well I don’t know but it’s cute…” and Arren lifted his head still looking mildly frightened by the prospect of any animal touching his beloved boot and he looked at the beast, if that’s what it should have been called, and smiled, he couldn’t help it. The animal wagged its tail. It seemed well looked after if not for a small scar just below its eye a dark hanging spike that looked like an icicle on one of the dead trees. I offered out my hand to it remaining quieter still and Arren looked at me with a small gaze of apprehension. The creature walked towards me and nuzzled into my hand, its small tail wagging at the touch and it growled that low growl again and tugged at my coat sleeve.
“Uhm, what’s it doing?”
“I don’t know Arren, perhaps you should ask it?”
“Uhm, e-excuse me…”
“Oh ,come on I wasn’t being serious, animals don’t talk!” I looked at him mildly amused that he even attempted it and the creature tugged still in one direction. I looked out over the plains and frowned at a sight I didn’t see last night, there was a line of red, not too far away and then it stopped suddenly and there was a body, wrapped in furs, but it was clearly human. I got up and the small thing seemed to appreciate that as it let out a small bark.
“Eri… come on this doesn’t seem right.”
“Does any of this?” I quirked a brow at him and sighed heavily offering my hand to him. “Look we need to look out for each other, grow a pair and come on would you?” He chanced a sulky expression and then changed his mind as if knowing I was too busy thinking of things other than him. He grabbed my hand rising unsteadily to his feet.
“Fine, but this is your decision, on your head be the repercussions. Faer-flow or no Faer-flow I’m not sure if luck is with us out here.”
“We’ve got this far…” and the animal once again started barking and walking in circles and then started running in the direction of the red streak and the body, looking back at us as if saying ‘come on already’.
I came into step picking up the damp clothes and wrapping the coat around me, the inside of which had been on top of us and so was not too damp. Arren did the same peering around warily and then following. The sun was surprisingly warm and the warmth seemed to do nothing to the snow which stayed in the same soft blanket, peaked in areas and rose and fell in others, the terrain was not completely flat but was easy to read.
As we came closer the animal started making whining noises and I saw that the person, whoever they were, was laying face down, they were small but held a staff in their right hand and what appeared to be some kind of lantern had fallen just to the left of them. I heard them moan in response to the whine and I moved closer, almost whispering “Hello?”
“C-shartwe” and she looked up at the small creature, she could have been no more than twelve years-old and I turned to Arren with a frown.
“Help me turn her over, see if those healing hands can’t work some magic here huh?”
Arren nodded, and seemed just as shocked as I at the girls apparent youth.
“C-shartwe, nae h-retar” the girl seemed to be finding it hard to talk and Arren placed his hand on her shoulder and peered into her eyes with a comforting smile, she responded with a weak smile back and we turned the girl over.
The damage was rather evident, and the girl peered up at Arren and he shook his head, peering at the small creature and then looking at me, his eyes glowed with sadness, the green striking me like they always had when he was sad.
The girl had a large laceration that had cut through her furs and a stab wound straight into her chest. The damage looked instantly fatal, however she grabbed Arren’s wrist and stared deep into his eyes and suddenly Arren grabbed my arm with an extraordinary strength even my automatic reflex couldn’t get me away. I heard her voice suddenly.
Hypocrisy: many people present themselves as beyond it, when in fact it’s all they do. Being nice is often misconstrued. Just because someone cares does not mean there is a hidden agenda.
This has a particular rhythm. One of the most direct poems I have ever written. It was aimed directly at people and fired.
——————————————————————————————————
Intermission.
A break, a time when something else occurs?
People tell me it’s for a reason. Probably for the best.
People tell me I am great: worthy of greatness.
People are trying to make themselves feel…
Better.
It’s all about people. It’s all about their foibles.
Their incongruent, aggrivating, irrational habits.
They lack honesty. Power.
Cowardice…
A word that describes being afraid to face…
To face truth. So when… When… WHEN…
When do I stop befriending cowards?
Never.
Personal? Not in a heartbeat. You wish…
You wish I could be less than I am.
All of what you are: lies.
All of what I am: less than.
So what did you want? Perfection?
Happiness? Joy? True talent?
Worthy of me? No.
No. No. NO.
You wanted what you could not have.
So you took. Regardless. You took.
And I gave. Regardless. I gave.
Is it what’s best? Is it what’s right?
Is that justification for suffering?
No.
But it was enough for you.
And when you turn your back I strike, like a screaming spirit,
All cold and without mercy, through eyes like snow.
A claw that twines your flesh like shaved bark.
Final and stark the dark, so open and welcome
Rages all throbbing and red,
Throbbing and red, and masterfully said.
Knives so high, and I, with Caesar’s eye,
am cast out, to the same end.
And it is an end, a ghosts lament,
That it should be conversed of hear’say,
and come what may, it’s another descent.
Hurts doesn’t it, one truth is spoken,
Even in riddle, the ether ripples.
Hands rise from soil and dirt,
Shirts torn, and bloody with the mess,
A mess so clear, its stain is plain,
A lustful, greedy, mess in my brain.
It’s returned, unexpected and slow.
Eating me from the inside.
“Manduca cor meum
Quare dicam, iam non sentit.”
(Source: fuckyeahthelionkinggifs)
Ice again.
I think I reached the edge this morning. I woke up and had two text messages. Two very different text messages. It was when, in one text, I was told I had motives that I didn’t that I cracked a little. The problem with people, particularly we, who are young and easily lead, is that we have a habit of making mistakes that may or may not have been “right”.
Many of my mistakes in the past couple of weeks have stemmed from alcohol. This devils nectar has become a mild addiction for me, not in a “my name is Ollie…” way but more so that I noticed I was relying on it to be… Fun.
Shit happens. Never truer words spoken. People seem to have a habit of making shit happen irregardless of said problems needing to arise.
To be honest, I won’t deny I have been an idiot in my own way. Causing myself unnecessary brain-ache when I could have just told myself that being a douche with no pride is really not worth it.
I’m on the bus right now, looking out the window the sky seems different. The sun appears clear and like that Sun, I am renewed this morning. Something triggered my adulthood.
I have reached the edge of cynicism.
