Yellow

Orange

Underneath, me, you

Apples red and yellow, crisp and mellow

Rainbows of glittering array

Even the butterflies are dyed, fluttering over our heads

Although you deny it many times

Well, I'll argue with you

Even if it's not true

Some person like me is there for you

Over the lands and seas

Matters what not, be with me

Every day I cherish with you

For me, there is only you.

"I beg of you, your Majesty. My village is suffering and needs-"

"Seed for plowing and farming, am I correct?"

The gaunt farmer looked up in surprise. "Yes, that is correct."

"Very well." Kriel motioned to the treasurer at the right of the throne. The man brought forth twenty sacks of soybeans.

"What shall be the payment, my Majesty?"

Kriel smiled. "Pay us back when the harvest is well and thriving. That will be enough."

"My Majesty..."

"Please go and take the sacks. May the Lady shine on your planting."

Apalled and overjoyed, the farmer left, carrying the sacks in a beaten down wagon.

"My Lord, are you sure it was a wise idea for giving food to peasents?"

Kriel glanced at his advisor. "I am sure, Proditus. Without our subjects and new plants, we will starve."

"But it's better if we keep it. If the commoners do not wield a good harvest, we will starve. The king and his closest men should stay alive at least."

Sighing, Kriel got off the throne. "The subjects rely on us, and we rely on them. It is not only a noble's world. And I thought you were an advisor. No matter, I need to retreat outside."

"But, outside is-"

"Proditus, you are dismissed."

Proditus flinched from the prince's gaze, but backed away and bowed. "Your wish, my Lord."

"Thank you." With that, the young prince headed out the wooden doors.

The advisor stared for some time after the retreating figure. He suddenly smiled, with a devilish grin. "You will not be 'my Lord' for long..." Proditus hissed. "Soon, I will take your power. Soon, you will see why I will be a better king, and I will take your head and those devilish eyes and cast them away..."

"Jarald!"

Groggily, the squire dragged himself out of bed. His twin brother, Harald, was already fully dressed and was stringing his horn bow.

"What? Harald. Why so early?"

Harald snickered at the sleepy squire. "It's not early at all, brother. Check the dial."

Jarald glanced out the window and peered at the sundial set outside. Sure enough, the dial had a quarter of shadow on its round face.

"Harald! Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"If I did, you would be all cranky and murder me."

"At this rate, Knight-master Silvyren will murder me!" The squire rushed to change clothes and slip into his tunic. "This is bad."

"Well, I'm off."

"Thanks a lot."

"No problem, brother."

Jarald ran around, looking for his armguard and lance. He found them, under the bed that he and Harald shared. Quickly tying the armguard around his arm with one hand, he snatched up the lance and dashed out the door of the room.

Sleeping Beauty: Fated

There was once a place, a lovely place. Lovely roses in a row. Among the beauty, hid a dark secret, waiting for the roses' thorns. A scarlet flash, tells of that prey.
She was a maiden, fair and sweet.

Satin slippers upon her golden feet.

The maiden of beauty, hidden in the deep, where only in secret do thy roses know.

That maiden fair, with her hazel hair, sleeps in the perfumed air.

The legend was passed, of the human rose, and those adventurers came to pass.

Many died, from those thorns, who refused to let them pass.

A handsome lad, of ten-eight, can through the forest. He crept though the bush, singing a harmony, lulling them to sleep.

Disappeared, he went, deep into the abyss, never to return, yet is alive.

He is that rose's toy now, trapped in a deadly embrace.

There was once a place, a lovely place. Lovely roses in a row. Among the beauty, hid a dark secret, waiting for the roses' thorns. A scarlet flash, tells of that prey. The young lad passed, and was the prey of the maiden, and will be, forevermore

Snow White: Fated

Poison of a rosy apple. A beauty in the flesh. The young girl of pure white snow, fell to the witch's hands
A young mother, wished for a child of unblemished snow.
That child was born, but her mother perished, o poor child of snow,
Her father lonely, wed a queen, of fierce beauty, a ravished dagger,
The queen was of a hungry beauty, looking upon her looking glass,
'Who is the fairest, the fairest of them all?'
'You the queen, is the fairest of them all'
Days passed, the answer was nigh the same,
But one day, it changed,
'She, the child of snow, is the fairest of them all'
That wolfish beauty, flew into rage,
Ordered her servant, to kill that child of snow,
The hunter, led the girl deep into a forest,
But could not kill the child of snow,
He let her get away, o fair sweet maiden,
Brought back the heart of a hog instead,
The queen was content, until she heard,
'She, the child of snow, lives, and is still the fairest of them all'
No more was the terrible beauty, instead was a witch,
The queen hunted that maiden fair, o that child of snow,
The girl was hidden, in the cottage of the dwarves,
Protected and loved, so the queen had to plan,
An apple, rosy and fresh, with such temptation,
The snow-child had to taste it, and died with a shattered heart,
The queen triumphed, but not for long.
For those angry dwarves, soon came along,
Witch, or queen, she fled to death,
And a prince came along,
With a kiss,
The child of snow, awoke at last,
But.
The spirit of the queen.
A shadowy death.
Stole their breath, never to awake.
With a golden apple of death,
The two lost lovers, locked in the poison's embrace,
Forever are forced to stay, in that glade of death,
For the temptation of the apple was too great,
And destroyed the lovers' fate,
Poison of a rosy apple. A beauty in the flesh. The young girl of pure white snow, fell to the witch's hands. The two lovers, whispering in the glade, invite you to try the apple of fate.

I feel so pathetically stupid.

Then again, I'm treating this whole damn blog like a diary sometimes. I was planning to use it for story ideas. *sigh

Anyhow. My teacher didn't get the point of my comic and gave me a zero for it.

Failure.

Though it was funny when my friend was talking about that teacher and happened to be walking by. It was hilarious.

Anyhow, as life goes, I procrastinate, I sleep, I use the computer, I argue with my mom, I play about a million games, I read stories in my head or talk to people in my head, cry, crush, and act retarded.

Oh, what a wonderful life I have.

(Good thing you can't find this blog by internet...not going to my college if I post something weird here. It's weird. Not wierd.)

No one's reading this anyway.

-Soz

It is raining.

Piercing screams...

The battlefield is bloody, with parts of living creatures,

No, not living...now dead.

Sole survivor, standing on a ledge,

I am standing, watching in despair,

The battle is lost, the regiment fallen...

If there are others, I do not know.

A jagged knife in my heart, more than the pains of wounds,

A heavy toll, taken by the hands of evil,

There is no coming back, I flee before the day's end,

Haunted and hunted by shadows who laugh mercilessly.

The glimmering spark of water,

Indicates a place to rest,

This place so far escaped the sword of war,

It is peaceful, almost dull...

I laugh, mainly because I cannot stop,

I do not want to think,

I don't even want to breathe,

But there is no stop of those rushing nightmares,

Horrors of death, the scarlet streams of blood,

Fires of pain, screams of shatter

Friends dead, comrades dead, captains dead,

All of them taken by death's grasp.

All hope is gone.

Not yet...

Something whispers

Find the one. Find the star.

"Find the star?"

Find the young one. Teach him. He is the Savior. But he needs you. Do not despair...

A whipping wind swirls the air.

The sky is clearing now.

And a single star is shining.

A light of hope.