The Fine Arts Thread

[rhsunderground]

Alright - here it is. A place for you to post your finer arts: music, poetry, stories, or art.

The Rules:

Don't post more than 3 items at one time.
It MUST be appropriate. As moderators, Jick and I have final say in what is acceptible, but it should be pretty easy. No obscene language, graphic, or adult situations.
Please feel free to constructively comment on the work of others.

[rhsunderground]

Falling Awake
Hugging, crying, living, dying
Life is as good as the promises you keep
Hiding, seeking, laughing, weeping
Our love is hanging on a cliff so steep.
You hate me, you love me, you need no more of me
Your heart flies above like a kite in the wind
I loathe you, I love you, can't get enough of you
I try to catch you but you fly off again.
Falling, flying, believing, denying
Our love is as strong as a kite in the wind
Talking, listening, breaking, mending
We put things together, so happy again.
Wanting, needing, time is fleeting
I must always know; ignorance will bring death.
Stopping, passing, knowing, asking,
We'll love all our best 'til there is none left.

How Many
How many roads have we traveled
Without knowing where we’re going
We drive all night, no goal in sight
All we know is that we’ll get there someday.
How many times have we wanted
To give up trying, go back to dying
We’ll keep going ‘til our hearts have filled
Can we afford to spend our lifetimes dreaming?
How many days have we wondered
When we’ll get there and what it’ll be
We drive all day, come what may
As long as we can stay far away from here.
How many games can we play
Until our cards run out of magic
We force our hand, ‘til once again
We stop to sleep and start over one more time.
How many nights have we wasted
Counting sheep like miles gone
We’ve traveled long to sing our song
To whom we meet along the way and in our dreams.
How many dreams have we imagined
That we have left our home
We’re still here; we sit in fear
Of the day that we leave never to come back.

Amazing Grace (http://skinneralamod.com/images/variationsofgrace.mid) --- an arangement i'm working on. it is by far unfinished. starts off with a tuba solo, as all good songs should.

[gorky]

It's long so I'll post a link to it instead:

The Adventures of Flamingo Hat (http://ajman098.blogspot.com/2004/12/science-fiction-story.html)

I wrote it a while ago because I wanted to try my hand at some science fiction. I ended up writing an outline that mocked the well known Robin Hood epic and left it at the outline stage because I liked it so much.

Hope you do too,

-Gorky

[gorky]

BTW rhs, I REALLY like the "How Many" piece, especially the lines:

How many games can we play
Until our cards run out of magic
We force our hand, ‘til once again

Oh lala! Very nice!

-Gorky

[hooloovoo24]

I also like the "How Many" piece. I love the last two lines, but...I'm wondering if it might flow a teensy bit better if you changed the last line to two lines, so it read:

"We’re still here; we sit in fear
Of the day that we leave
never to come back"

Or something like that. Just my opinion...

[buntine]

I like both of them, RHS. ;)

I have a few poem-like-things that I have written. They always tend to be evil, though. :p

Here is one I wrote a few weeks ago:

In the Wake Of Evil
…So in the wake of my occurrence, mysteries shall be born.
For we rely on wrong, the beautiful death of innocence, in which we meet – her ghost in my shadow.
And all is well, for death lies upon me like a mist on a grass so green, just as the god of our creation is blamed once more.

And so – in my wake, mysteries shall fade and goodness shall prosper.

Here is another one I wrote about 6 months ago. It sort of follows on from a previous poem I wrote. Valderok and Kyrdon and fictional characters from a story I hope to write one day.

The Coldest Stone
Creviced on the unspoken planet
Lies the village of Satornia
Dark tears of its folk, lost to the storm
Valderok cast the coldest stone upon thee

A sleeping wisdom, a forgotten tragedy
Guarded by Kyrdons fatal stare
Once living children – now etched in crumbled stone
The warriors of its midst, all but forgotten

An Angelic encounter; a demonic memory
Death awaits thee, like a silent snow upon the dawn of winter
Walk the darkened pathways to an untold fate
Clench thy sword, for Kyrdons eye is near.

What you think?

Regards,
Andrew Buntine.

[gorky]

Hehe... I just got the MOST FUNNY email. One of those 'business proposition' scams. Seeing as this page is dedicated so far to works of fiction, I will post it. Happy reading :D

FROM THE DESK OF MR HAITHAM SHARAF.
BRANCH MANAGER OF NATIONAL BANK OF ABU DHABI
UNITED ARAB EMIRATE (U.A.E)
ABU DHABI,
DEAR

I am Mr. Haitham Sharaf Branch Manager National Bank of Abu Dhabi),I have urgent and very confidential business proposition for you.A British Oil consultant and contractor with the Kruger Gold Company,Mr. Raymond Beckmade a numbered time
(Fixed) Deposit for twelve calendar months,valued at US$12,000,000.00 (Twelve Million Dollars) in my branch. Upon maturity, I sent a routine notification to his forwarding address but got no reply.After a month,we sent a reminderand finally we discovered from his contract employers, the Kruger Gold Company that Mr. Raymond Beck died in a plane crash along with his wife Mr. and Mrs. Raymond & Dorene Beck in Egypt Air Flight 990, 1999 air crash
(for more information about this crash and person you can contact this website: http://www.s-t.com/daily/11-99/11-02-99/d08ho174.htm

Since we got this information about his death and on further investigation, I found out that he died without making a WILL,and all attempts to trace his next of kin was fruitless. I therefore made further investigation and discovered that Mr. Raymond Beck did not declare any kin or relations in all his official documents,including his Bank Deposit paperwork in my Bank. This sum of US$12,000,000.00 is still sitting in my Bank and the interest is being rolled over with the principal sum at the end of each year.
No one will ever come forward to claim it.According to Laws of United Arab Emirates , at the expiration of 7 (seven) years, the money will revert to the ownership of the ( U.A.E ) Government if nobody applies to claim the fund.
Consequently, my proposal is that I will like you as a foreigner to stand in as the next of kin to Mr. Raymond Beck so that the fruits of this old man's labor will not get into the hands of some corrupt government officials.
This is simple, I will like you to provide immediately your full names and address so that the attorney will prepare the necessary documents and affidavits that will put you in place as the next of kin.

We shall employ the services of an attorney for drafting and notarization of the WILL and to obtain the necessary documents and letter of probate/administration in your favor for the transfer.A bank account in any part of the world that you will provide will then facilitate the transfer of this money to you as the beneficiary/next of kin.The money will be paid into your account for us to share in the ratio of 60% for me and 40% for you.

There is no risk at all as all the paperwork for this transaction will be done by the attorney and my position as the Branch Manager guarantees the successful execution of this transaction.If you are interested, please reply immediately via the private email address above.Upon your response, I shall then provide you with more details and relevant documents that will help you understand the transaction.

Please send me your confidential telephone and fax numbers for easy communication. Please observe utmost confidentiality, and rest assured that this transaction would be most profitable for both of us because I shall require your assistance to invest my share in your country.Awaiting your urgent reply via my confidential email address haithamsharaf2002@simbamail.fm

Regards


Mr. Haitham Sharaf,


:) I'm going to play along and yank this guy's chain a bit :)

Any suggestions for my response?

-Gorky

[rhsunderground]

Originally posted by buntine
What you think? intriguing. very sci-fi.

[gorky]

For we rely on wrong, the beautiful death of innocenceMe like-a-dis...

buntine: Do you have any more of the Valderok and Kyrdon? I really liked how well you used the 'old' (for lack of a better word) style of prose.


I wrote this a year ago as an example of 'mood'. I think it's up on my blog too.


It was a cold, moonless night and a heavy mist had settled some time after dusk. The cloud had taken such a grasp on the city that even with the streetlamps on, it was impossible to tell if one was walking on a sidewalk or on the brink of an infinite, black void. People wandered aimlessly through the streets, seeing nothing but the same dark mist that enveloped their minds as well as their bodies. It would have presented an eerie sight, had someone been able to peer through the fog unhindered, the way they were propelled by an unseen force, intent on reaching their nonexistent destinations.


-Gorky

[rhsunderground]

Originally posted by gorky
It was a cold, moonless night and a heavy mist had settled some time after dusk. The cloud had taken such a grasp on the city that even with the streetlamps on, it was impossible to tell if one was walking on a sidewalk or on the brink of an infinite, black void. People wandered aimlessly through the streets, seeing nothing but the same dark mist that enveloped their minds as well as their bodies. It would have presented an eerie sight, had someone been able to peer through the fog unhindered, the way they were propelled by an unseen force, intent on reaching their nonexistent destinations. sounds like congress. :p

[buntine]

I have one more based on Valderok. I will post it when I get home. ;)

[gorky]

Originally posted by rhsunderground
sounds like congress. :p :D:):D:):D:):D:):D

When I wrote that, I had in mind this time I had spent an hour in a Starbucks from 5 to 6 the morning, looking at the people, literally drifting through the door, eyes not adjusted, sloppily/hastily dressed. They're like zombies. Maybe I'll do a mockumentary on it with my friend Drew. I've been looking for a reason to break out the video camera. I'm getting tired of configuring FRAPS for machinima stuff for different frame rates. Blugh. Hehe... "Caffiene Addicts, the Zombies of the Next Millenium". Something like that.

-Gorky

[rhsunderground]

since i'm in the right mood, i'm going to post some fun writings.

Astrovan
My parents went out and got me a used car.
As far as I know, it goes very far.
I don't care who you think that you are
It isn't as nice as my Astrovan.
It handles the snow and also the ice
It claims that at once the car was quite nice
But not even the CD player inside will suffice
It cannot live up to the Astrovan.
My Mazda was built as a luxury car
A 626 was Mazda's flagship car.
150 said the speedometer bar,
But it isn't as cool as my Astrovan.
I bought a couch for academic decathlon
The Astrovan was its temporary home
It was a wonderful thing for me to lay on
You can only do that in an Astrovan.
A hole in the muffler made the Mazda sound strong
But the Mazda didn't get chicks all night long.
I'd rev up the Astrovan and sing my little song
Of the time I drag raced in my Astrovan.
I pulled up beside a Mitsubishi Eclipse.
He looked o'er at me and I licked my lips.
My tailpipe he soon would be having to kiss,
For I kicked his arse in my Astrovan.
It has front wheel drive, which isn't always fun,
But the cookies are great when snow covers the sun.
I'll never forget how Omaha was won,
The time I went out in my Astrovan.


My Three Prongéd Lover
I see your three prongs
And I feel my heart jump.
Whenever I see you
So fast the blood pumps.
I have many of you
An entire sack full.
A life without you
Would be simply as dull
As a life without color,
A life without smell,
A life without taste,
A life spent in hell.
I keep you in my car,
My bag, and my room.
I have killed for you -
They called you a spoon.
When I completed the act,
I thought of my dove.
The fool deserved it,
He insulted my love
And my honor, my life,
The release of my strife.
If it weren't illegal
I'd make you my wife.
But now I must leave,
Chinese food is calling.
I know that the truth
Will soon be appalling
But I fear that I might
Simply be falling
In love with chopsticks -
I'm sure you are bawling.
I wish I could be
With you one more night.
But my stomach beckons.
Sweet dreams. Goodnight.


Ode To An Ethics Paper
12:58, and I just woke up
This will be great, I want to throw up.
Sitting here, staring at the screen
Clumps of hair are being seen
Upon my desk while I just stare
It is a mess, what's written there.
"My ethics paper," what should I say?
A great black vapor has taken my day.
It sits in ink and burns my eyes
"Try to think, and not plaguerize."
'Okay,' I say, 'I'll get this done'
'As soon as I have a small bit of fun.'
So a game goes by of Minesweeper
And my mind is falling deeper
Away from homework, more to my mood
Enough of this quirk, I'll get some food.
So I walk to the cafè for
A bit of milk and something more...
Pizza? Hot dog? Salad? Fries?
I think of the fog that clouded my eyes
"I must go back to write some more!"
I grab a Big Mac and sprint for the door
"Oh, forget that, I'll just walk back."
I stop and chat, but don't walk on cracks.
Sooner or later, I'm in my room
I assume the crater will be my doom
For in front of this box that has my life
Are dirty socks that give my nose strife.
So I go do my laundry, so nice and clean
I make a new boundary that comes in between
Me and my homework, like water and oil.
One small perk so my brain will not boil.
A quick game, then a paper I'll write.
I finish in shame, and summon all my might
'I WILL get this done, nothing will stop me.
I've had all my fun!' Now I have to pee.
I get done with that and I sit back down
I take off my hat and wipe off my frown.
I've only five pages and plenty of time
I'll do it in stages, because that's what's prime.
"Oh my!" I scream as I look at the clock.
"I haven't done anything and it's twelve o'clock!"

[gorky]

You have got to read THIS (http://erasing.org/i_ate_ipod_shuffle/). I didn't write it, but it is so brilliant, it needs to be heard.

-Gorky

[theuedimaster]

Very funny.

Here is a story I had to write for my english class. Its called "The Good Devil". Hope you like it. It is in the link.

http://www.sigmaseven.net/docs/shortstory.doc

[rhsunderground]

Originally posted by gorky
You have got to read THIS (http://erasing.org/i_ate_ipod_shuffle/). I didn't write it, but it is so brilliant, it needs to be heard.

-Gorky that's depressing.

[gorky]

Originally posted by rhsunderground
that's depressing. How so? It's great. The iPod Shuffle in my opinion is the only thing depressing about it. I have a 20 Meg and wouldn't dream of any less space. The Minis were borderline on taste, but the Shuffle just seems to have no marketability. It's only pro is it's price.

VERY NICE THEUEDMASTER ON THE SHORT STORY

Originally posted by rhsunderground
I pulled up beside a Mitsubishi Eclipse.
He looked o'er at me and I licked my lips.
My tailpipe he soon would be having to kiss,
For I kicked his arse in my Astrovan. :D :) :D This was great too rhs :D :) :D

-Gorky

[gorky]

This is a poem I did over the summer. The flow isn't great, but the imagery is, so I guess it balances. Maybe I should revise it...

It's entitled the "Magic Cashier"/"The Bullet in My Pocket". I never really decided which.

I was working at my counter one day
When a man burst in the store
He was wearing only black
And was blocking the entrance door

“Sir...” I started to say
But stopped when I saw the gun
I looked to me like an armored cannon
Though, I have only seen one

He hefted it to his shoulder
Slowly taking aim
He pointed it at the butcher shop
And shot the long dead game

The meat section exploded
Pork, Beef and Chicken covered the walls
Red blood stains of ketchup
All over the floors and halls

The rat-tat-tat of the machine gun
Mixed with screams of the girls & boys
Became so unbearable for me
That I closed my eyes to escape the noise

When I opened my ears to look around
The whole store had been ripped to bits
It was here I questioned the man’s motives
For no human had been hit

“Give me all your money,” he screamed
“Or I’ll make you eat hot lead”
So I told him I wasn’t hungry
Then he shot me in the head

Lettuce flew through the air
The cabbage blown to bits
That’s when all of the men fainted
And the women went into fits

“Quiet” screamed the madman
And the women did just so
While the children just sat there smiling
Thinking it all a show

Again he fired at me
But now with a tracer
This time I caught the bullet
And pocketed it for later

“That’s it!” he yelled and steadied the gun
“This time I will not miss”
“That’s it!” I screamed angrily
“I can’t take much more of this”

“Say your prayers,” he screeched
“I’m an atheist,” said I to the man
“Too late,” he shrieked and tightened his finger
But by now I had a plan

I popped the button on the side of my watch
The world stopping in its track
Walked over to the frozen man
Waiting for the chance to attack

I then pushed the button back in place
Returning the Earth to orbit
I put my thumb upon the gun
Covering the bullet’s exit

He pulled trigger, fired the gun
The sound caused my ears to deafen
Fingers flew, spewing blood and smoke
He screamed and dropped the weapon

It was at this time that SWAT burst in
But having never been in the field
They cowered in the doorway
While using shoppers as bullet shields

“It’s OK,” I called loud and clear
Afraid they might attack
“Is he still dangerous,” asked a voice
Referring to the man in black

“It’s OK,” I called again
But this time adding more
“As you can see he’s subdued”
A head poked around the door

After taking a long look
The SWAT commander ordered his men into the store
After many tedious maneuvers
The team surrounded the man on the floor

While all this occurred he had just lied there
In a small pool of ketchup
For the blood left in his gored arm
Had long since dried up

“Jesus, what happened?” asked the commander
“I’m not Jesus,” I said
“It’s an expression,” he said sighing
“But I’m an atheist,” to this he scratched his head

“Just tell me what happened,” he pleaded
“Of course” and I did
“How did you stop the bullet?”
Inquired a cop no older than a kid

“I’ll tell you on one condition”
“You name it,” said he
“You tell the cops to quit eating my food”
He looked over his shoulder to see

Snacking on cookies and potato chips
Were the cowardly policemen
Some ate the TV dinners on the floor
“Attennnntion,” shouted the officer no older than ten

Everyone stood stock still
He turned to me and said,
“Tell me how you stopped that bullet
Or I'll shoot you in the head”

Slowly I crept up to him
And whispered in his ear
“Magic,” I said very cautiously
His eyes snapped open with fear

“You’re free to go,” said he to I
And having been dismissed
I walked away and smiled as I heard
“But he’s an atheist”

I walked across the street to a car
Stopping only to unlock it
Drove away feeling tons lighter
Without the bullet in my pocket


Thanks for reading, sorry it was so long,

-Gorky

[buntine]

Thats fantastic. I've always wanted to be able to temporarily stop time. That would be so good.

[smercer]

Computer Poem


A computer was something on TV from a science fiction show of note.
A window was something you hated to clean and ram was the cousin of a goat.

Meg was the name of my girlfriend and gig was a job for the nights.
Now they all mean different things and that really mega bytes.

An application was for employment. A program was a TV show.
A cursor used profanity. A keyboard was a piano.

Memory was something that you lost with age. A CD was a bank account.
And if you had a 3 inch floppy, you hoped nobody found out.

Compress was something you did to the garbage, not something you did to a file
and if you unzipped anything in public, you'd be in jail for a while.

Log on was adding wood to the fire. Hard drive was a long trip on the road. A mouse pad was where a mouse lived and a backup happened to your commode.

Cut you did, with a pocket knife. Paste you did with glue.
A web was a spider's home and a virus was the flu.

I guess I'll stick to my pen and paper and the memory in my head.
I hear nobody's been killed in a computer crash but when it happens they wish they were dead!

[Mr Initial Man]

Wolf Hunt

"You Better get ready to die, get ready to die! You better get ready to kill, get ready to kill!" The Andrew WK tune blasted from the 3/4-ton pickup, which roared down the dirt road. Michael Kramer tilted his beer bottle back, taking another swig of brew. He was headed for some place called "Lycan Reserve," which, he'd heard, was some kind of game reserve.

The red-haired, 23-year-old college dropout wasn't too concerned about liscenses, or whatever. He was an expert at knowing which game wardens he could convince, and which he could simply bully into submission. He especially liked the second kind, the old codgers thinking how nice retirement would be. And they really did want to live to SEE retirement, so they generally backed off, when a sawed-off shotgun was shoved in their faces.

He pulled up to the gatehouse of the reserve, slamming on the brakes, and skidding to a halt. The gatehouse was old, but was clearly still very livable. The entrance didn't have a token bar across the lane, it had an old, sturdy-looking wood gate. The game warden, an old, gray-haired man wearing a warden's uniform and sunglasses, came out. His strides were firm and sure, and he had the look of those game wardens who weren't used to being messed with.

Well, he'd find out what Michael was like.

The old man flashed a badge, revealing his name to be Luke Garron. He looked into Michael's truck. "Come here to hunt, have you?" he asked. He didn't sound pleased.

"Yeah, come to get me a few trophies," said Mike, grinning. "Heard rumours of some big wolf in here, so I figured, head on in, blow the bugger away, and bring him home.

The old warden shook his head. "Well, in that case, you are not welcome here. Only those who have respect for Nature, and who use her children wisely, can hunt here. Also, the wolf you speak of, of all creatures in this forest, will not tolerate being hunted. So, no, you may not come in."

The youngster smirked. "Old-timer, let me ask you a question," he said. "How you gonna keep me out," he said. "Seriously."

"I can always leave the gate down," said Luke.

"And I can always drive through it," said Mike.

"And I can always haul you into court, and have you thrown in the slammer," growled Luke.

"Assuming you can find me," shot back Michael, and put the pedal to the metal. The truck surged forward, smashing through the gate as Luke was caught in the spray of gravel.

The warden dusted himself off, and watched him go. "Oh, I'll find you, young man," he said to himself. "I'll find you."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael wasn't going to risk sticking his truck in the provided parking lot, only to have it seized on him. He drove the truck through the forest, turning the music off. He grinned, coming to a wide stream that passed through the thick, old forest. He put the truck in park, and shut it off. He got his full-length shotgun out, pulled the keys from his ignition, and stuck them in his pocket.

His ammunition belt was next, along with his backpack, which contained his lunch, beer (for celebration), skinning knife, and other supplies. Once he was ready, he locked his truck doors, and did a careful look around, so he'd remember where he'd parked. Once he was certain of his location, he checked his compass, and headed north.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
He was the High Priest of this Cathedral of the Mother, and the Guardian of the place. The wind called to him, and he listened, paying attention to what the breeze told him. There was a new creature here, a heretic of the poisonous cities, who cared nothing for the sanctity of the forest.

He lifted his head, sniffing again, before padding down the hillside, heading towards where this intruder was hiking. He knew the kind, all to well, those who cared not for the value of the Earth, except what they could wrench from Her.

But, worse, this one had come specifically for him, despite being warned before he entered. This one had to be dealt with, and swiftly, lest all humans think they could profane this place.

The wolf bared his teeth. He, and he alone, would be the Priest of this Cathedral, King of this domain. Humans did not have the wisdom to rule this place, as he did. Especially not this one.

He padded off, to bring punishment to this one, as befitted one that harbored the heresies of ignorance and indifference to Nature.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael was getting frustrated. This bloody forest was an absolute maze. Didn't anyone ever clear paths through here? He'd heard plenty of birds racketing up a storm, but he ignored them, intent on the hunt. He grinned, as he came across the tracks of what HAD to be a large herd of deer; maybe he'd shoot a few of those when he got the wolf. But other than the noise overhead, and the tracks, there was almost no sign of life.

He pressed on, and then he grinned, harshly, seeing a new set of tracks. Wolf tracks. And they looked fairly fresh. Slowly, he began to follow them, silently rejoicing.

A few minutes later, he was not so silently cursing, as the tracks led him to an offshoot of the stream that was an absolute bog, complete with mosquitos, horse flies, blackflies, and everything else that went chomp in the swamp.

To add to his sorrows, he'd lost the trail. He looked around, grumbling in frustration, then headed towards the stream, so he could remind himself of where he was.

He continued to search for the wolf tracks, and grinned as he found them again. "Okay, you bastard. You're mine."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
He was not above being amused by the human's struggles in the wood. The tracks he laid after the bog would lead the man through a maze of bushes, bushes that the wolf had little trouble passing through, but a human -who walked upright - would find fiendishly difficult. And from there, a fast-flowing stream, with his tracks visible on the other side.

All this had a reason, of course. He intended to wear this human out, before commencing his chasticement, so that he would not need to chase the human for long, before administering the inevitable punishment.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
/I swear this damned wolf is toying with me,/ thought Michael, as he was reduced to crawling on hands and knees through the thick underbrush. The bushes were too thick for him to walk upright, and too close to turn around. It had SEEMED a short crawl, when he got to some bushes that grew very close together. So he'd gone down on hands and knees to crawl through... found that the bushes hid the entrance to a small cave.

The entrance had been nearly invisible, so he'd been taken completely by surprise when he'd fallen through. Unable to break his fall, he was knocked unconcious when he landed.

When he woke up, he'd been unable to get out, so he'd had to crawl through the cave, and now was crawling through the bushes. The wolf tracks were still there, almost mocking him now. His face was scratched by the branches, and his hands and knees were aching.

It was with a curse of relief that he finally found his way out of the bushes. He groaned, standing to his full height. "Oh, bloody hell," he groaned. He went to check his watch, but noticed it had somehow come off in the bushes. "Oh, great," he snarled, leaning against the tree. His stomach told him that it was long past lunch, so he took off his backpack, and sat down to eat.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
He watched, baring his teeth, as the human fouled the stream with his garbage, much of which had been so twisted by technology that the Mother could no longer use it..

His plan was working well; the young man was tired and irritated, and was not thinking properly. It had taken him a long time to crawl through the bushes, and he'd lain unconsious for some time in that cave. It would soon be dark, and then the wolf would strike.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mike finished his meal, and tossed the rest of the garbage in the stream. He'd eaten slowly, taking advantage of his chance to rest. But when he looked around, and saw where the sun was, he was taken completely by surprise. "Holy, HELL, it's late" he exclaimed. He grabbed his shotgun, and started heading out. After several strides, he stopped, realizing he'd forgotten his backpack.

Cursing a bit, he went back to where he'd eaten lunch. There was still some garbage strewn around, but his backpack was nowheres in sight. He swore, looking around. Then he saw the wolf tracks again. And the grass beside it was flattened, as if something heavy was being dragged. He followed the tracks carefully, slowed by having to look for them a few times. As he followed the tracks, he smelled something familiar: the bog he'd gone through that morning. On the shore was one strap, torn free. From the churned mud, it appeared that the rest of his backpack was at the bottom of the scummy water.

And all around were the footprints of a wolf.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
He watched the human, grimly satisfied. The human was beginning to understand that he was dealing with far more than a simple ambulatory pelt.

[Mr Initial Man]

(Note: Sorry for my double post, but my story is too long for one single post)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mike stood by the bog's edge for some time. For the first time he was thinking of what was really going on here. He remembered thinking that the wolf was toying with him while he was crawling through the underbrush. The old warden's words echoed in his mind: "The wolf you speak of, of all creatures in this forest, will not tolerate being hunted."

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts in his mind, but still the doubts nagged at his mind. He could imagine the wolf simply heading for the bog, and even going into that tunnel made by the underbrush. But dumping the backpack was clearly deliberate.

Now what to do?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
He watched the human, and waited for him to decide what to do next. If the human decided to return to his truck, the wolf would allow him to depart. If not, then he would have no mercy.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mike's doubt slowly gave way to anger. "Damned wolf..." he growled. "Goddamned wolf..." He made sure his shotgun was loaded, and set out again. "This means war. This means bloody WAR."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
So the human wanted war, did he? Very well. The Guardian of the Forest was all to willing to accept. For he was on familiar ground, and the human was lost, and without direction. He lifted his head, and gave an angry howl, accepting the human's challenge.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mike was having trouble tracking in the darkness, when he heard the howl. He grinned to himself, and headed towards where the sound had come from. The forest here was denser, with more deadfalls and underbrush. Again he heard the howl, and he changed his direction slightly. He was going to get that damned wolf, if it was the last thing he ever did.

Suddenly, he saw something grey moving, that looked like a canine. He raised his shotgun and fired, but was greeted by the clatter of buckshot as it hit what turned out to be a boulder, with the shadows of branches moving across it.

He blinked and swore, then turned to the left as he heard the howl again, tantalizingly close. He reloaded his shotgun and headed towards the howl, ignoring the niggling thought that the wolf could be calling him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
He howled one last time, and watched the young man come up the hill, shotgun at the ready. He moved, causing the bushes to rustle, and flattened his ears at the blast of the shotgun. Then, as the man reloaded, he struck.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mike snarled as he missed a second time, and started reloading his shotgun, when he heard the soft gallop of paws. He looked up, then screamed as the massive canine launched itself at him. He brought his shotgun up to block, only to have the huge wolf slam into his chest and knock him over. The last thing he felt was his head striking a rock in the ground.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
A long howl lifted up into the forest air, a hymn of triumph to the Mother. Then the wolf began to feast.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Luke Garron leaned back in his chair, the window open to catch the morning breeze, a half-eaten corpse laying on his floor. He'd dragged it from the woods, not far from where the truck had been. "I know one city slicker who found a hell of a way to lose weight," he said ironically, then looked at the remains of the would-be hunter. "You understand now, don't you? Not that it will do you an ounce of good."

He looked out the window with a wolfish smile, his eyes glittering gold in the sunlight.

[smercer]

Originally posted by rhsunderground

No obscene language, graphic, or adult situations.


you didn't say to keep politics out, Great!!

If You're Happy And You Know It Bomb Iraq

If you cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq.
If the markets are a drama, bomb Iraq.
If the terrorists are Saudi,
And your alibi is shoddy,
And your tastes remain quite gaudy,
Bomb Iraq.

If you never were elected, bomb Iraq.
If your mood is quite dejected, bomb Iraq.
If you think that SUVs,
Are the best thing since sliced cheese,
And your father you must please,
Bomb Iraq.

If the globe is quickly warming, bomb Iraq.
If the poor will soon be storming, bomb Iraq.
We assert that might makes right,
Burning oil is a delight,
For the empire we will fight,
Bomb Iraq.

If we have no allies with us, bomb Iraq.
If we think that someone's dissed us, bomb Iraq.
So to hell with the inspections,
Let's look tough for the elections,
Close your mind and take directions,
Bomb Iraq.

If corporate fraud is growin', bomb Iraq.
If your ties to it are showin', bomb Iraq.
If your politics are sleazy,
And hiding that ain’t easy,
And your manhood’s getting queasy,
Bomb Iraq.

Fall in line and follow orders, bomb Iraq.
For our might now knows no borders, bomb Iraq.
Disagree? We’ll call it treason,
It's the make war not love season,
Even if we have no reason,
Bomb Iraq.

[theuedimaster]

LOL. Very funny smercer.

Mr.Initial Man, very cool story! And what was with that wolfish smile thing at the end? Does that mean anything?

[smercer]

Originally posted by theuedimaster
LOL. Very funny smercer.

Thanks

Originally posted by rhsunderground
Please feel free to constructively comment on the work of others.

PeOfEo: Don't forget rhsunderground's rule to make a positive comment on my work. :D

[Mr Initial Man]

Originally posted by theuedimaster
Mr.Initial Man, very cool story! And what was with that wolfish smile thing at the end? Does that mean anything?

Well, lessee, Lycan (short for Lyncanthrope) Reserve, a wolfish smile, golden eyes (like a wolf's), Luke's knowledge that he'd find Mike, and the fact he DID find Mike in a dense forest. Oh, and Luke Garron is a corruption of loup garou.
Yes, I'd say it means something. ;)

And thank you, smercer! I've been looking for that!

[smercer]

Originally posted by Mr Initial Man
And thank you, smercer! I've been looking for that!

You like my poem? I thought Peo would have responded to it by now.

your story is well written by the way.

[Mr Initial Man]

When was it written? I could have sworn I saw a printout of it a few years ago? And thank you. :)

[smercer]

Originally posted by Mr Initial Man
When was it written? I could have sworn I saw a printout of it a few years ago? And thank you. :)
I was hoping for a reation from Peo, but now that you let the cat out of the bag, It's not mine. Yes I was going to admit it was not my work after Peo responded but anyway. The computer poem is not mine either by the way. I am not a poet

I got it from http://www.commondreams.org/views02/1216-06.htm

[Pittimann]

Hi!

I've been following this thread from the beginning and I was hoping to also find music here after some time. Nothing like that available yet. Unfortunately, the songs, my current band plays would break the rules of this thread (both concerning English and German lyrics). So I am posting something 15 years old, not understandable to most members and visitors of this forum and - even if somebody understands it - not being 'too adult'.

It is an Amharic (one of the tribal languages and at the same time the official language of Ethiopia) poem; an old one (not written by myself but recited by me). Be careful: 4.53 MB of music which you likely don't like and lyrics you probably don't understand. :D

A little Pittimann (http://www.pit-r.de/Manew.mp3) poem.

Cheers - Pit

[rhsunderground]

i like it. :D

[Pittimann]

Hi!

I hope, you got all the message. :p

Cheers - Pit