Girl in The Darkness, a pencil sketch

REMEMBERED AT CHRISTMAS.

On Christmas Morning, I saw a rose, on top of a flat cap, placed on the steps of the local war memorial. It inspired this poem.

Remembered at Christmas.

On a Memorial to the War Dead,
Lay a flat-cap fit for his head,
Atop the hat, a blood red rose,
His favorite flower, I suppose,
All soaked with rain and tears,
Though he'd been dead a hundred years.

Sonnet to Vamprehood

Forever Sunset

Walking through endless forest,

Under an eternal sunset

With You, it seems to last

Forever, and dreaming I forget

All, but this golden twilight,

A thousand years without night,

Gleaming woods… onwards… never

Ending ruby sky, lit forever…

The Tree of Lost Souls.

This is the beginning of a ghost story for children which I have been writing...

There were ghosts in the old, French house on the end of the street. Blossom knew that because she drank ice tea with them sometimes.

They were not the type of ghosts that you might be scared of on a stormy night, or the type of ghosts that to give food to on special occasions. Most of the ghosts were younger than Blossom, who would be fifteen at New Year. Many of them were too shy to talk to her. There was a girl, called Herb, who had been born in the Year of the Mouse and died in the Year of the Chicken. In some ways she was a little older than Blossom, and in other ways she was much older. She liked to play marbles with Blossom, and braid her hair.

Herb had a cat called Charlie- named after Charlie Chaplin-no one could see him, but you could hear him or feel him if he walked past you or sat on your lap

There was an old lady who owned the house, and she was still alive. Blossom called her Grandmother Snow, but she was no one’s grandmother. She sat outside her house every day on a small chair on the cracked pavement, under a tall tree, and sold tea and red candles.

The tree had wide bows, and thousands of vines that reached down to the street. Old men would sit under the tree and play chess, and working men would sit and drink tea. In summer it gave shelter from the hear and heavy rain. In autumn red and golden leaves carpeted the street. People believed that spirits could live under the shade of that tree, so people put flowers in the nooks of it ancient trunk and burnt incense.

But all the spirits were inside the old French house, where it was more comfortable.

Every New Moon, Blossom went to the temple with her parents. After that, her mother would go to visit her family and her dad would go to drink egg-coffee with his friends, so Blossom was free to go and see Grandmother Snow. She liked to talk to Grandmother Snow, who knew almost everything, and spoke very gently, and wore her white hair down and very long, but she preferred to go into the house and play with the ghosts.  

‘Now you will die!’ he roared.

‘           No…’

‘It’s over for you now.’

            ‘Give me one more chance…’

            ‘No, I am tired of playing with you, it is finished!’

            Uncle Patients and Granddad Mountain always talked like that when they were playing chess, and Blossom always found it funny.

            She watched them tidy up their game, said goodbye to Grandma Snow, then went into the old house.

There were three huge marble steps that led into the porch, then a wide mahogany door that led to the living room. This room had a sink, cooker and table in one corner. In another corner it had a tall shelf full of books, old dolls and broken clocks. There was a big mat in the middle of the floor for sitting.

                On the ground floor there was also Grandma Snow’s bedroom and bathroom. Grandmother Snow only lived on the ground floor (because she was too old to climb the stairs) so it was always bright and clean, but upstairs was very different...

Mr Hyde

Waking up with
    Blood in my hair,
What did I do
   Last night and where?

He does things
   With my face and hand
That I simply
   Cannot understand,

Lustful deeds,
   I don't recall,
Acts I can't
   Regret at all.
  

, Vampiress, a nonsense poem.

Beautiful little vampire,

Your teeth are so sharp,

If I gave wrote you a song,

Would you play it on your harp?

Would we dance together,

If we had the right tune,

On mountains of midnight

In the light of the moon?

If I gave you my throat,

Would you give your heart,

Or drain me and forget me,

Before our dreams even start?

There is nothing outside the forest, 2/6

  Days passed like dreams and nights like nightmares.

  Then eventually came hope.

  The height and density of the trees dropped. Young samplings, herbs and flowers replaced ancient and giant trees. Rabbits, ox and birds replaced deer and boar.

  Then I saw The Sky.

  Not simply a sky, not the specs of light that appear above the forest, or the great sky above the Great Lake…

  An overwhelmingly vast, endless Sky… and a blinding light.

  Burying my eyes in my palms, I fell to my knees.

  Blinded, I crawled back to the shade of a young yew tree. From there I could look across to where the forest ended and a limitless expanse of golden grass lay.

  Shielding my eyes under my hand, I gazed up at an infinite blue canopy.

  Then I saw the children. Children of the People, but with subtle differences. They were fully dressed, for a start, maybe to protect them from the sun, and their hair was cut short. Their faces wore an intense pride, like a stag deer, or an ancient woman introducing her many descendants

  Until they saw me….

  Then they screamed and ran.

  Soon after the fighting men came, led by an old woman.

  They were dressed in metal, like the orc use for their blades. Foot to neck in metal, like creatures from a nightmare- they shone like the moon. Bright hats towered over faces that were too proud. The men held massive spears and the old lady bore a mace.

  ‘Stand down,’ the woman commanded her men in an accent which I could barely understand. ‘Only one of them.’

  She took a place towards me. I stood to greet her, totally overawed.

  I had found something outside the forest. An open, golden land and a strange branch of the People.

  ‘You have wandered too far, beast.’ she said to me with utter disdain.

  I looked at her, trying to show respect, but utter confused and still dazed by the light.

  ‘Monsters are unwelcome here…’ she continued,’ how did you get past our guards?’

  I laughed, hysterically… what was this about?

  ‘Grandmother, you think I am Orc?’ I asked.

  ‘No, Beast, I know what you are!’

  ‘Fey?’

  ‘Yes. Worse than the orcs. Orcs can be tamed, taught, controlled. They are our watch dogs. We breed them and train them to guard us.’

  ‘Guard you against what?’

  ‘Against you! To guard us against your barbarian people… You savages who live in trees full of skulls. Who eat raw flesh from every animal you see. Who live in darkness and worship death! Fey!’

  It was time to go home. There was nothing outside the forest for me.

  I had, at least, seen and known Great things.

THE END

There is nothing outside the forest, 2/5

The details are blurred and faded now.

  It was the day we… lost… it is too sad to say.

  One moment we were walking, the next, falling.

  My arms flailed out and caught the ground.

  Desperately, I leld the leafy earth, my feet kicking at the emptiness of the pit that had opened.

  There were cries of pain.

  Shocked, I pulled myself up and looked down at horror and blood.

  My brother was murdered… my loyal brother the aurox lay impaled on cruel spikes, thrashing, bleeding, dying.

  Tomm too, lay impaled through his arms and legs. He stared up at me, his eyes wild with pain.

  “Run,” he yelled.

  The orc were coming. Maybe I obeyed Tomm. Maybe my instinct compelled me to run like a frightened rabbit.

  In blind panic, I climbed up a tree and hid… Looking down, I saw the orc inspecting their trap. Silent tears ran down my cheeks and I knew I was watching Tomm’s last moments.

  How is it that we must be born in pain, live in chaos and fall again into darkness so easily.

  As I watched them kill him, I asked myself, is there anything more to life than this?

  When the orc had finished with him, I scurried down from my hiding place and cut off his head.

  It had to be done. I cut off the head of the might I might have loved because that how we show kindred with the dead. I placed tomm’s head atop a yew, and hoped dearly to see him again in his next life.

  I walked on. There was nothing left to do but to walk on- to some thing outside of all this.

  It was a slow walk, and intolerably lonely. Constantly dodging orc and orc camps.

  Often there were marker stones beside rivers and the tallest trees.

  ‘FEY DIE HERE.’

  They read, or…

  ‘NO FEY.’

  ‘NO WELCOME FOR FEY.’

  ‘FRE- FREE OR DIE.’

  I suspected that I understood the word Fey by then, but still I walked on. What did I have to lose?

  There was another great river, to wide and fast to cross. Lookin for a ford, I found some thin else.

  Some thing new.

  A path made of stone, in the air! Maybe a home for a river creature… but so clearly built to cross the river.

  Stealthily, I crept closer. It was made of stone, cut into blocks. It was shaped like a crescent moon, lying with its points touching the earth.

  The People do not build such things. The orc, surely, could not.

  It both amazed and shocked me, yet still I walked across it.

THERE IS NOTHING OUTSIDE THE FOREST, 2/4

I felt Tomm’s hot tears on my forehead and held him closer.

  

  There were few animals among the dead trees. Few insect, few birds. It became hard to hunt.

  The next day brought more slaughtered trees. Slain oaks, ash and pine. But no more Orc camps.

  No animals too, until we came across a wounded boar. He staggered towards us in a grim clearing, bleeding from his strong left shoulder.

  We ate him.

  Then we respectfully placed his head atop an oak sapling which had been spared.

  Tomm was recovering well, but I feared for the health of our brother aurochs.  

  The following dawn,  I woke up cold and damp, curled up beside brother auroch, with Tomm in my arms.

  I wish now that I had never let him go.

  The rest of that day was filled with terror.

There s nothing Outside the Forest, 2/3

  We were lucky.We all survived that night, and were able to travel the next day… slowly.

  Now, after all that happened, I think it is always lucky to survive a night.

  With my help, Tomm climbed atop our wounded bull, and I walked along side him. At every twist in that narrow valley, we feared an ambush from the Orc.

  The Orc are predictably, they will always try to kill us.

  Limping, as the wounded animals that we were, we left the shadow of the mountain. The river narrowed, and the trees grew thicker. The Great Lake and mountains were long gone. It was as though I was still close to my family next, and -again- it was as though there could be nothing outside the forest.

  

  The next day we came across a filthy and stinking camp of the Orc. They were long gone,the Orc stench remained.

  With our brave brother bull wounded, I feared the Orc greatly, almost as much as if I were alone.   

  Past the dirty Orc camp, we found many dead trees.

  Not slashed, maimed, and burn- in the orc way- but cut down at the base. The small branches had been cut or burnt away, and the trunks and bows had been dragged elsewhere.

  I could not understand this slaughter. The Orc are always burning, but why kill all the tree and take away the trunk.

  First we found a murdered Ash. Then five butchered Pines. Then patches where dozens of trees lay dead together.

  It was as bad as the skull piles. I held tomm close to me, I felt so tired. We had travelled so far and seen so much badness.

Freya

Was'hail Freya in the Sunset,
Hail the Lady in the Dawn,
See Her eyes where lovers have met,
Feel Her kiss on the Forlorn.

There is nothing Outside the Forest, part 2/2

My legs and arms were cut, but not bad. But Tomm’s left leg was cut to the bone, and the bulls flank was cut badly.

  “Wait here!” I shouted.

  I leapt from the bull, into the forest, and searched for the leaves that heal.

  There are many leaves, herbs and flowers in the forest. Some are nourishing, some healing, some deadly, some do nothing. Such is life.

  When I returned the bull as lying down, and Tomm was sat against his belly. There was too much blood.

  First I stuffed their wounds with the purple herb, then sealed their wounds with leaves, then gave them seeds of the sky flower for the pain.

  After that, I was my cuts in the river, then I hunted.

  I hoped we could travel the next dawn, and I really hoped the Orc would not return.

There Is Nothing Outside The Forest, part 2/2

We walked back down, away from the ice and snow, to the river, then through the valley under the Great Mountain.

  To something worse...

  First, I thought they were Sleep trees. A long line of sleep trees all across the valley. They were not. There were all kinds of trees, with all kinds of bones thrown in them. The bones and skulls of thousands. Across the ground also the bones of The People were cast. Many bones broken and many skulls smashed, and the bones of the orc lay amongst them. Weapons too, and parts of weapons. Hundreds of skulls, too, were piled up in mounds, the hollow eyes staring down at me.

  I held Tomm and wept. I had never seen such horror.

  Perhaps Tomm had. He was silent. His cold eyes were dry and his gaze was far away.

  There was a carved rock too, on the path by the river bank. Its runes read-

  “FEY DIE HERE.”

  I began to understand the meaning of the word ‘Fey’.

  Then the orc came.

  We heard them first, smashing through the trees. Then we smelt them. Then they were upon us.

  Tomm and I threw our knives at the leading orc. One to the belly, one to the head.

  Our bull charged on the narrow path, hammering two orc with his horns.

  Then they were around us. They knew then to avoid the bull’s horns and mighty rear hooves. They came from the sides, stabbing up at us with knives and spears. Hacking towards our legs and the bull with axes.

  I smashed one orc skull with my axe as it reached up to stab me.

  Next, the bull was hurt and went mad. Thrashing with his hooves and butting and goring. Leaping in circles, frantic to kill orc. He spun and kicked and roared in pain and rage… and all we could do was hold on.

  In a moment it was over.

  The orc fled into the forest, or jumped into the river and were washed away.

  Our bull calmed, and we caught our breath.

  My legs and arms were cut, but not bad. But Tomm’s left leg was cut to the bone, and the bulls flank was cut badly.

  “Wait here!” I shouted.

  I leapt from the bull, into the forest, and searched for the leaves that heal.

There is nothing outside the forest. Part 1 of 2

This is a story I started in 2014 and have continued.
The last part is on the link

http://postromanticnightmares.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/of-drums-grew-ever-louder-and-land-rose.html

PART 2

  At first, I found the Great Lake beautiful. The huge open space, the flocks of ducks, the strange fish, the cool wind, the way the water changed its colour from rock gray to a bright blue that I had never seen before. Most of all, I liked the way that it reflected the moon and stars at night.

  But I did not like the sky above the Great Lake. I was too big, and at midday the sun was too bright. It hurt my eyes.

  That sky was like a massive burden above me, that ought to fall at any moment, and I dared not look at it.

  On the lake bank I felt exposed… like a rabbit that smells a fox and is far from home…

  We walked on the lake bank, Tomm called it The Great Lake Shore, for many days. It was too big.

  On the first night there, I lept alone in a tree while Tomm slept on his bull on the shore.

  It was lonely, and I did not feel safe knowing that there was so much open space near by. If the orc came from the trees, where would I hide?

  On the second night lay in the tree, holding my axe against my chest with both hands for comfort. It did not help. It was too lonely.

  I climbed silently down and came up to Tomm and his bull. Without waking them, I climbed and curled up next to him. The bull’s belly was warm and it was good to know Tomm was so close.

  When I woke in the dawn I found that I was holding him. He smiled, and said nothing.

  We kept walking.

  After noon on the fourth day at the Great Lake, we rounded a corner on the shore and reached the mouth of a big river. The Great Mountain loomed above us.

  It cast a shadow over both land and water.

  I had never seen anything so high, or dreamed of anything so huge.

  Pines grew atop it, everywhere but the very top, which was covered with snow. I did not know snow could exist so early in the year.

  There was a strange thing at the river mouth. A rock, cut square with writing carved in it.

  We, the People rarely write the runes. Sometimes we mark a Sleep Tree or place signs to warn of danger. But we all know hw to cut and raad the runes.

  These runes were different. We cut smoothly into wood, but these were carved- straight and jagged- into rock.

  There seemed to be three words,

  “NO FEY HERE.”

  The word “Fey” had no meaning to me, maybe I had misread the strange runes.

  “Where now, Tomm?” I asked.

  “It was your dream,” he replied.

  I wanted to escape from the open water, and I hoped that- from the great height of the mountain- I might be able to see an end to the forest.

  It was a bad idea. Unlike a tree, the further you climb up a mountain, the colder you get. The first night on the mountain was cold. I could hear the bear, and wondered if the Great Shaman was with us. The second night, despite having Tomm in my arms, was the coldest I had ever been. It was too cold, and still the mountain towered above us.

  We walked back down.

Crashing Down

One day,
Ha Long's islands
Will fall into the bay,
Lost in the waves,
And hidden away,

One day,
Long Bien Bridge
Will finally lay,
Great rusting sludge,
And washed away,

One day,
Work and beauty
Will all decay,
Robbed of glory,
And faded away...

But not today.

Bored of Paradise

(This is the beginning of a book I plan to write about the 6 years I spent in Vietnam. Bored of Paradise is a working title, which I will change,)

Cat Ba Island.

In Vietnamese, it means Lady’s Island.

An island of golden beaches and endless jagged, forest covered mountains like dragon’s teeth, surrounded by the mysterious beauty of Ha Long Bay.

He stood on the deck of the long motor boat as it made its way from Hai Phong City to Cat Ba. There was a pile of moterbikes and backpacks at the stern of the boat, and many travelers and a few locals stood or sat around him. He smiled into the wing and spray of the see,imaging the future and remembering the other times that he had been there. 3 years ago, with the beautiful and mysterious A. 2 years ago with the sweet and gentle N. 5 months ago with his friend and his friend’s wife.

It had been his dream to live and teach on the island, and now his dream was coming true,

The problem with dreams, is that sometime you must wake up.

PART 1

After 6 years in Hanoi, the sprawling capital of Vietnam, he looked forward to a new life on that beautiful island. 8 years of excitement, pollution, love and hate, corruption and near constant danger. The open sea and mountains were to be a stark contrast to Hanoi’s crowded alleys and vast highways.

He was leaving his friends and student’s behind, but he hoped to find new friends and lovers, and was determined to maintain contact with his old comrades.