Elle's Works

Hold on to him

2004-03-03T02:33:12Z

"Hold on to him," she said, "with every fiber of your being."
I shall not shrink from such advice,
For I've listened to the unwise council of misinformed fools in the past,
and now, at long last,
I hear a clear voice.

The trials and tribulations be all necassary, think I
To justify within us what we know is wholly right.
To give us material proof on this mortal plane,
That love does flow, deep and strong.

Now our souls remain e'er intertwined,
And nought could break them apart.
Far and away from the slings and arrows
Do we retreat to our peace.

a classic fav

2004-01-07T21:27:01Z

In the Beyond
16.12.02 3:38 p.m. (Monday)

I am resting now,
You've got no need to worry.
I'm quite happy where I am now,
It's quiet with soft light.
I can fly when the whim takes me,
And I can look at your face whene'er I wish,
Though I may not speak to you.
If you can feel that warm breeze,
I'm running my fingers through your hair.
And if you hear the birds singing,
I'm laughing at your joke.
And when you feel the rain,
I'm trying to heal your wounds.
When you see the sunshine upon soft snow in the winter air,
That's me.

Author's Note: This one poem went over really big when I first distributed it, so I thought I'd post it again here. It's a softer look at death (potentially suicide). I wrote it to counter my teen angst poetry about death, disease, and dying.

borrowed work from John Donne

2004-01-07T21:20:54Z

Holy Sonnet 10
John Donne

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, the from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones and souls' delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost thou with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
A Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

more red notebook

2004-01-07T21:10:17Z

Deceiver
1.7.03 2:59 p.m. (Tuesday)

I've got nought to give
Save what you see before you.
Not enough to tantalize
The most diehard Spartan.
And there you stand,
Insolent and motionless,
Unable to explain your own attraction.
The game is played most
Often out of your favor.
And that does not seem to
Set you off from your stance.
I have only the energy to pity you.
But I'll refrain from calling you foolish.
You will see only what you wish to see in my soul,
And what you long to see in my eyes.
So how can I trust your opinion?
Is it valid?
Part of me wouldn't think so--
Another half clawing at the belief.

red notebook poem

2004-01-07T21:04:45Z

A Black Night
1.6.03 6:07 p.m.

I've never really liked--
This being that I am.
So much like a dead-end street,
Littered with the garbage of past generations.
So dark and forboding--
Shattered glass upon the ground.
Dim streetlights struggle to illuminate allways of the mind.
No sucssess there.
I can see you out of the corner of my eye
Far placed from where you should be.
Leave and take your good health with you.
Sickness lurks here--
Pollutes the air and makes it think.
Screams of the misunderstood echo down the street,
Strangers dart in and out of darkness.
And there you stand.
I can't tell if it's your ignorance,
Or your stubbornness,
That holds you to that spot.
You've admitted to your surroundings,
That much is clear.
Now you only hope to understand them.
It is a mistake in trying.
There's too muc here--
Perhaps too little--
For a mind like yours to grasp.
And even a heart such as yours,
Could not flood this dark world with light.
But I see you,
And you try anyway.
Many - myself - would call you a fool.
There is some greater power here,
That forces in the dark,
And turns your own power against you.
Even one so strong as you--you will fail.
But no--a sliver, silver flitting,
I see it now, a single shard,
Now becoming a ray of crystal light.
I know not from whence it came,
Only that you had some part to play.
It grows now,
Crossing the pavement,
Banishing the darkness hence from our sight.

crappy poem written during the duration of health class (aka drugsarebad class)

2004-01-07T20:42:43Z

Bloody Beast
12:11 p.m. 7.1.04

All that becomes of silence-
All that frigidness bears-
Has come down upon us,
And ripped us to shreds.
This is no longer an uncommen occurence.
I find this beast at our door quite often.
Each time we patch ourselves together
We become weaker
And weaker.

more chem crappy-ness

2004-01-07T20:37:32Z

Untitled
12:04 p.m. 7.1.04

Who I am-
And what I've become-
I can live with neither.
But as I've bitten and slashed all those Kind
And screamed at warmth in and Response
I am doomed to a cycle of self-hatred.
Not that I expected anything else.

crappy stuff I wrote in chem

2004-01-07T20:35:14Z

Untitled Response
12:01 p.m. 7.1.04

The darkness of my heart
And the secrets that lie within
May cause me at times to act
In ways you cannot fathom.
My heart is a deep ocean of secrets
And I keep my confidences to myself.
It's not anything for anyone to understand
How I act
How I think.
You're wasting your time if you're trying.

expansion of light/dark lament

2004-01-07T01:29:53Z

So, all moments of light live in fear of those of darkness. I hold onto the light moments for as long as I possibly can, until they're ripped from me, and I'm shoved into darkness again. It would seem that this is all my life consists of: this struggle of light and dark (but I've already mentioned this (see prev. entry)).

And it would appear that light moments are far more fragile than dark. But I feel that this is only an illusion. What we fear is almost never as strong as we think it is (take my fear of spiders, I'm terrified of them when they're only a miniscule fraction of my size). The light moments seem rarer, because you wish you had more time to savor them. The light seems weak because it is what you enjoy.

Poe-inspired (sonnet-to Science)

2004-01-07T01:15:40Z

Sprite
6:35 p.m. 6.1.04 (Tuesday)

Wood-sprite,
Little nymph so perculiar,
Flitting through the forest,
And running o'er the heath.
What are you for?
Delicate little creature
Born of earth and water.
What ancient order to you follow?
You no longer dwell within the heart of man-
He has forsaken you for his Science.
He comforts himself with those theories and laws.
But you, little pixy, are not bound by such things-
You are the free spirit, as Nature truly intended.

Author's Note: I hate the poem that inspired this work of mine (Poe's "Sonnet-to Science), but Poe did make a very good point in writing it. Science is nice, but we must not forget to indulge in imagination.

sleeping boy

2004-01-07T01:03:47Z

My Baby Sleeps Tonight
6:18 p.m. 6.1.04 (Tuesday)

In the semi-light I lie
Watching him; his chest rising and falling,
Rythmically in tune to my own breathing
My baby sleeps tonight.
And no matter what his past holds
Whatever vulgar and vile sentiments
Are washed away now
As my baby sleeps tonight.
From the beginning of my time on this mortal plane
I have not seen such a beautiful face;
Distinguished features; supple body
As in my baby who sleeps tonight.
And I believe that in the rest of my days
I shall never find
Such a one pure of heart
As my baby wh sleeps tonight.

lost love

2004-01-07T00:56:34Z

Hushed Love
12:01 p.m. 6.1.03 (Tuesday)

Long ago, and not so far away
Lived the one whom I loved.
For years I looked upon her
Afraid to speak her name
Though it played lovingly on my lips.
The sacred beauty which she so carefully displayed
I knew was ne'er to be mine.
And my heart thus felt upon it iron fetters,
As it was locked into place,
But that one remarkably beautiful face.

Author's Note: It would make a fantastic sonnet if only it was four lines longer.

more Marionette

2004-01-07T00:51:49Z

Dance of Marionette
11:36 a.m. 6.1.04 (Tuesday)

My little Marionette
She dances in the candlelight
A fluid figure
Moving with definate grace and skill.
Sweet Marionette.
Your face speaks of feigned innocence,
And that makes you all the more beautiful.
The fire dances in your eyes
And your face begets a knowing grin.
You are as a sprite.
My little sprite;
Little Marionette.

old little poem

2004-01-07T00:48:02Z

Memo to the nonconformist
9.10.03 approx. 2:00 p.m.

Lying within the darkest depths
Waiting for the light to strike
I lie; unknown.
What's here, sweet one?
I love thee, o thou with disregard
For the tyrant of conformity.
But dare I speak my heart?
Nay, I am not as brave as you.

a small love poem

2004-01-05T21:55:23Z

My Marionette
1:45 p.m. 5.1.03 (Monday)

Sweet young Marionette
How smoothly you move
Oh, my dear beauty
Many have fallen to you
Even more yell; scorn you
Call you names,
My sweet Marionette,
Little Marionette.

Author's Note: You may not see much in this poem, but I like it a lot because it's so simplistic. And I shan't digress whom I wrote it for, so please save yourself the trouble of asking. No one any of you would know.

short lament written in psych class

2004-01-05T21:51:57Z

5.1.03

Darkness/Light Lament

There is too much pain in my life to possibly express in words. There are also moments of excruciating joy - almost too much to bear are these. So I live within the bounds of eternal paradox.

There is the darkness, and there is the light. They exist within each other, mottled together, so that nothing is ever completely pure, nor fully vile.

Nothing ever whole; always incomplete. Searching for truth is a search in vain.

And there is no state of eternal contentment, as there is none of misery.

But the moments of light always live in fear of those of darkness.

My Dozen Roses

2004-01-01T17:52:06Z

My Dozen Roses
Completed 9:25 a.m. 31.12.03 (Wednesday)
A Sonnet For Sean

Here for you are my one dozen roses:
The first filled with caring;
The second with warmth.
Within the third you’ll find protection,
And tenderness flows from the fourth.
The fifth is a home for hope;
The sixth a vessel for patience.
Friendship finds its place in the seventh.
The eighth flower is a symbol of trust.
The ninth exists in representation of honesty.
The tenth is for your past; the eleventh for your future.
The twelfth is a simple piece of affection.
Within each of these blossoms lurks the signature of love-
Afraid to speak its name.

How deep

2003-12-25T01:04:56Z

17.12.03
9:13 a.m.

E're and e're in love, how deep does it run, then?
Tell me, how deep does it run?
Is it a river easily bridged for anger,
Or does it falterand drown?
Show me how deep it runs, show me now!
I feel your words, those spoken outside the heat of lust,
Have lately faltered.
And I am left alone to my intensified agony.
If I were to cut all the pain out of me,
Methinks my crimson river
Would run deeper that your love.

Author's Note: The public loved this one, for some reason. They always eat up whatever they think relates to suicide or self-mutilation. Bunch of masochists.

Letter to the defiant one-

2003-12-25T01:00:58Z

9.10.03
2:04 p.m. (all dates are written European)

The wolves, they bay and tear at you.
But nary a word from your lips
Or a grimace of pain.
For you, there is no honor in thi; only defiance.
You - enigma,are you capable of knowing me?
Will you know me?
This I cannot tell, therefor I ask.
Stay with me a moment more-
Maybe I can kep them away for a while.
But do not overestimate the strength in me-
They will not be gone long.
So now we are together here,
In this sacred moment-
What will your action be?

Author's Note: The words "will" and "knowing" are used in thei somewhat-archaeic forms.

loyalty

2003-12-24T10:24:04Z

Note to self, before I forget: must write a poem about loyalty, bravery, and preserverence.

Hi Marc.

2003-12-23T13:23:13Z

Hi Marc
8:32 p.m. 4.9.03 (Thursday)

Hi Marc.
How are you, sweetheart?
Stupid question, isn’t it?
I hope you get home safe tonight.
I wish I was there to make sure that you did.
I wish I was by your side for a lot of things.
I wish I still loved you.
I wish I was still with you.
I wish you were happy.
If wishes were fishes…
I wish that I could give my life for you.
That would make me feel better.
I wish I could repay you for your kindness.
That would make me feel better, too,
But we all know I’m incapable of that.
And I’m sorry
And I’m remorseful
And I’m content
And I’m miserable.
And I hate you
And I care about you.
And I wish you were dead
And I wish I could save your life.
Why must I always be haunted by the things I have and haven’t done?
Why must the blood of my soul soak the walls and the carcass of my spirit rot in the sun?
Why am I always the hater, never the lover?
Why am I always the killer, never the victim?
Why must I ask myself why?
Why must I look for my life in music?
Why must I hurt those who love me? Why must I kill all the love away?
What if I was the one being stabbed in the heart?
Could I take the pain? Would I live? Would I die?
If my dearest friend decided to end my life, would I fight it?
If cancer infiltrated my body, would I fight it?
Would I die?
Will I die?
How?
What have I got to cling to but the shadows of things that once were?
It seems I must walk alone.
It’s winding down now, as I’m sure you can see.
So, thank you, I suppose.
I’ve got not more to say.

Author's Note: Forgive me for my teen angst.

A Poem For Jess

2003-12-23T13:22:37Z

Jessilyn
A Poem For Jess
(which is not quite a sonnet)
5:57 p.m. 18.9.03 (Thursday)

O! sweet Jessilyn, hearken unto me!
What immortal spirit dose thy frame embody?
What magic is here, dear one?
Thy walk is set at the pace of an angel-
Never seem to touch the ground.
Men would gladly give all they had to posses you smile;
Sacrifice all dear to them for your kindness.
Are you unaware of the whimsy surrounding thee?
Can you not sense the power of your spirit – intoxicating as it is?
Ever the maiden; with your untempered innocence.
No one shall ever be quite worthy of thee,
But you would forgive all their faults,
And harbor them safe within your heart.

TWDS: Chapter Six: Aftermath

2003-12-23T13:20:29Z

Chapter Six
Aftermath

I had been betrayed. There was no other explanation for our capture. I growled and looked about my confines. We were being brought north in an iron barred carriage, under the supervision of a score or so of Elena’s troops.
I looked around to my comrades. There was only Igor, another body, and myself. Elena had murdered all the rest in the middle of the night. We had been lying down to camp, when someone shouted the alarm. They were upon us before we even knew what was happening. I heard my men scream in the middle of the night; they were accompanied by the sickening sounds of disembowelment.
I looked at Igor.
“Do you think she’ll kill us?”
He looked at me sardonically.
“What kind of stupid question is that? You should be wondering about how she’ll kill us, if anything else.”
I nodded in consensus. It was finally over. Austria would continue to be ruled as a German State, not as an individual country.
And now I had nothing to do but ponder our fate on the long journey back to Germany. Not in the least a pleasant respite. Igor seemed to be thinking the same thing.

~~~

I had followed the horse all the way into the town below the Royal Palace. I dismounted my horse and tied it up next to the local tavern. Not losing sight of my target, I weaved through the crowd, following in her footfalls.
She finally arrived at her destination, a small little cottage with a bakery on the base floor. As she went in, I could hear joyous exclamations being made about her arrival.
“Must be visiting family or some such thing,” I said.
I approached the bakery and entered, and began to look about, as if shopping, while I listened to the humble little family’s conversation.
“Oh Anya,” exclaimed a rather portly old woman, “it’s so good to see you! You hardly ever visit us anymore.”
“Well, mother, the Lord…well, let’s just say my duties have become heavier of late.” Anya said, hiding her ruler’s emotional malady like the loyal little thing she was.
The mother did not seem satisfied.
“Well, he shouldn’t be pressing upon you so much with his needs that you can’t get away to see your family.”
An elderly gentleman, tall and lanky in comparison to his wife, chimed in.
“Leta, he is the Lord of the Russian States.”
Leta simply sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Huh, some Lord…god damn hypocrite if you ask me…”
Anya could not seem to stand her mother’s criticism any loner.
“Mother please, let it be.”
Leta nodded begrudgingly.
“Anya, dear, why don’t you go up to your room and get settled? We have business to conduct, after all. And I believe I’ve kept that gentleman in the corner there waiting,” she said, looking at me, “sir, how might I be of service?”
My mind stalled, but not for long.
“I’ll take a half a dozen of those little rolls there,” I said, “I hear you’re the best in town for baking. That’s the way the locals tell it. I just need a bit of bread for the journey I’m on, until I get to the next trading post.”
“Oh aye?” she said inquisitively, “Where are you headed?”
“West. For Germany. I was just taking a vacation in the Russian States.”
At this she eyes me somewhat dangerously.
“That’s funny. Never heard of a German who would ever want to visit Russia.”
I paid quickly for my food and headed out the door. I looked up and could see Anya’s silhouette through one of the windows on the second floor.
I went between the alley of the bakery and the house next door. I located the drainpipe on the neighboring house, and climbed to the roof with minimal effort. I had the greatest luck. Anya’s window on this side of the house was open.
I took my knife from my boot, and tied a sash of red, black, and gold around the handle. I kissed the blade, willing it to fly true, and bury itself in its intended target. I looked through the window, waiting for an opening.

~~~

The trip back to Germany had been a hard one for me, with no food and precious little water. The nameless ally who had been traveling with Igor and myself had died the night before crossing the German border.
Igor and I now sat in a dark, dank sell in the bowels of Elena’s great castle, waiting to be called for sentencing.
Our wait was not to be a long one. A guard came up and rapped loudly on our door.
“Wing, Johann. The Empress will see you now.”
I looked across the cell to Igor, wondering why only I had been called, and not the both of us. He shrugged his shoulders.
There was a creaking noise as the door was unbarred and the dingy light of the corridor flowed into the cell.
The guard clamped beastly large handcuffs on my wrists, and he had a bit of a hard time getting them to fit, as they were obviously designed for someone with much smaller hands. I could already feel my circulation being cut off.
The guard marched me out of the dungeon at spear point, giving me a jab now and then to point me in the right direction. I was amazed at Elena’s wealth, as I walked through the halls of her palace, I saw luxury I had not even imagined was within her grasp.
Silks depicting epic battles of the German Empire hung the walls, golden sconces lined the corridors. A matter of antiques and relics from ages past offered mere decorations.
Finally, we arrived at the Great Hall doors. They were of solid oak, and had the likeness of Elena riding into battle etched upon them.
“We wait to be called,” the guard said.
I nodded.
After a wait of about twenty minutes, a loud, regal voice boomed from within the chamber.
“Forward, Johann Wing of Austria!”
I laughed. They sounded as if they were announcing a foreign ambassador, not a prisoner of war.
The doors groaned slowly open, and I was pushed forward into the chamber. I was taken aback by the brightness of it all. Every thing, the ceiling, the walls, the throne, was lined in gold and platinum. There was a single red carpet leading to the platform, upon which Elena was seated on her throne. By her side as always, was Sir Peter Andrews, captain of her Royal Guard. The entirety of the guard was spread put around Elena, assuring that no one could get within ten feet of her.
I walked forward and bowed my head slightly to her. She acknowledged my respect, indicating that it was enough, and I did not have to prostrate myself bodily before her. She began to speak.
“Johann, old friend, I give to you the rule of Austria, and this is how you repay me? With rebellion? Is that anyway to treat your old friend?”
“Milady, Austria has the right to be a free country, not a state ruled by Germany.”
She gave me a menacing look.
“You may think that. But you are wrong. Johann, I have no urge to take your life. I don’t think I could live with myself, at least not easily, if I did.”
I looked up at her. At least our former friendship counted for something. But she was not yet finished speaking.
“However, I cannot ignore your disloyalty. You are sentenced to life in my dungeons, until further notice.”
I was about to protest, when a silk-clad figure emerged from behind Elena’s throne. I stared in absolute horror and disbelief. Elena began speaking again.
“Johann, I’d like you to meet the new ruler of Austria, Lord Igor. He has proved so much more loyal than you.”
I had all I could do to control my temper. I shot Igor a venomous glare. He laughed in response.
“Jon, what are you going to do about it, huh? It just shows how blind you really are.”
“I may be the blind one,” I said, “but you’re nothing but a rat. And it will now be the sole purpose of my life to effectively destroy you.”
He just laughed more. Elena was losing her patience.
“Guards, take him away, and make sure he’s kept alive.”
The guards attempted to muscle me into waking back down to the dungeons. It took four of them in all just to maintain loose control over me. Had I the true desire, I could have thrown them all easily, but I was too angry to think about much else than generalized resistance.
As I was marched down once again to the dark depths, I looked about at what I believed to be the last glimpses of real light I would ever see again.

~~~

I had been up two hours before the dawn. I had bathed, and I was dressed in my black and gold finery. I marched up and down the castle with a certain disconnected air about me; my mind was elsewhere, thinking about long lost memories. But it was clear to me that today was one of the better days.
Servants in the hallways dodged my glances, everyone was apt to avoid me it seemed. I went into the library to search for some decent reading to pass the sullen morning hours.
I had selected a certain collection of Goethe (as I intended to eventually improve my German), when a young servant girl, no more that five or six, came rushing up to me, completely breathless.
“Sire, Sire! You must come! It’s terrible!”
I kneeled down and brushed her blond hair out of the girl’s face. She looked up at me with urgent blue eyes. I attempted to soothe her.
“Hush, little one, calm thyself. What is it? What’s gone wrong?”
The child became more agitated and wrenched herself from my grasp, pointing down the hallway.
“You must come to the infirmary, Lord. Please make haste! It’s of dire urgency!”
Realizing that I was not going to get any specific information out of the little one, I sighed and followed her.
She took flight to the infirmary, and I had to keep up a mild jog just to keep pace with her. We finally arrived at the infirmary. Upon opening the door, I saw the head nurse, Katja, with Marianna standing beside her. Marianna saw me, and with wide-eyed shock, flew out past me and down the hallway. I turned to Katja.
“What’s gotten into her? She looked as if she saw a ghost.”
Katja’s face remained worryingly solemn. I looked at her with curiosity. She spoke slowly.
“Maybe she did, Lord. I wouldn’t know.”
It was then I realized that something was horribly wrong.
“Katja, what is it? What’s happened?”
The nurse motioned for me to follow her into one of the sick-rooms. Therein laid a bed, with the curtain drawn about it. Katja looked up at me.
“I will leave you alone.”
I was about to inquire as to whom laid in the bed, but Katja drifted morosely away.
I stepped forward into the chamber. The air became like ice, and the hair stood up on the back of my neck.
I reached for the curtain, not wanting to pull it back, but knowing that I had to. I took a deep breath, and pulled it away.
I fell to my knees. I couldn’t make a sound; the pain within me was too great. My heart began to thud against the inside of my chest so loud that it was suffocating me. I began to groan and mumble.
“No…no…NO!”
Upon the bed lay the paralyzed form of my dearest friend Anya. Her eyes stared straight ahead, and were glazed over. There was a malicious wound in her chest. A throwing knife had buried itself within her heart.
My tears fell upon Anya’s dead body. I could not handle the loss. I could feel my insides screaming. I wanted to kill. Whoever, whatever, had done this was going to die, and they were going to die slowly.
I stood up; face red and tears streaming down my face. I let loose a howl like that of a dying wolf, as that was how I felt. I roared for Katja. She made an appearance quickly inside the doorway.
“Lord?”
“The weapon,” I choked, “did you recover it?”
Katja nodded and produced a small throwing knife, just as I had suspected. Except I had not foreseen one minor detail. There was the blood-stained banner of Germany wrapped around the knife’s handle.
I saw red. Elena, I thought. I bent down next to Anya, and kissed her cold forehead.
“Vengeance will be mine, Anya; I’ll make sure of it.”
I rose and stormed out of the infirmary.

TWDS: Chapter Five: Ringleaders (Part Two)

2003-12-23T13:17:32Z

~~~

“Lord Marcus? Sire? We’ve got a telegram for you here, from a Jon Wing. Oh, Lord, open your door, for the love of all things sacred!”
I heard Marianna calling through the door at me. She was that brunette girl I had invited into my bedchamber a month or so ago (and now she was never very apt to leave). I yelled back at her through the door.
“Hung over, go away! And you’re not supposed to talk to your sovereign like that!”
I could here her make an impatient sigh.
“You are not hung over! Just take your telegram and I’ll leave you alone!”
I groaned and pulled myself out of bed. I had been none the better these days, and I left my quarters less and less. I opened the door to find Marianna standing there impatiently with her arms crossed; telegram in hand. I took it from her, and skimmed it quickly. She looked at me inquisitively.
“What’s it about sir? What news?”
I shook my head in irritation.
“No news, really. Jon is simply asking me in no uncertain terms where the hell I was when he was rebelling against the tyrant Elena. He goes on to say that he hopes I enjoy my vodka and Russian whores, and that when the world is free the people of Russia and the world will be spitting on my grave. ‘You will be remembered as Marcus the Worthless’ he says.”
I tore the paper into little shreds and threw it above my head. Marianne looked at me expectantly. I growled at her.
“What? I though you said you would leave me alone now!”
She was about to open her mouth when I slammed the door in her face and retreated back into my quarters. I could here her screaming in rage out in the hallway, and I then began to hear the sound of glass shattering, which I imagined to be several crystal antiques which lined the hallways smashing to the floor. I shook my head, and collapsed into my bed with a bottle of brandy.
Jon was right, I knew that. I was being completely hypocritical. I should have been there to assist him and his men in battle (though I doubted even my forces would have made much of a difference in the outcome). So now I simply had one more weight on my already guilt-laden conscious.
I sighed and poured myself a drink. I contemplated the glass in my hand, looking into its brown depths. This was all my life had become, then, a cycle of boozing and womanizing.
“Like every other great Russian leader before me,” I laughed to myself. I shook my head violently. Then I rose and threw the glass against the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces, and lied glittering on the grounds in a pool of brandy. The brandy soaked into my antique carpet, staining it a hideous pigment.
“Fantastic,” I said, “bloody brilliant, even.”
I didn’t have the energy to call for a maid to clean it. I’d just get another, it wasn’t like they were difficult to afford. Even though more and more of my former trading allies fell every day, for the time being the Russian treasury remained high.
I heard a scratching at my door, not dissimilar to the sound of a mouse entreating entrance. I went to the corner of my room and donned my evening robe, then called to the door to see who wanted audience.
“Marcus, it’s just me, Anya. I heard noise. Is everything alright?”
I smiled inwardly. I was happy to hear Anya’s voice. Anya was head of the household staff, and I very trusted friend of mine. I had been employing her for longer than I could remember.
“Oh, Anya, it’s you, thank heavens. Would you come in?”
She very kindly obliged. As the door opened, the entire atmosphere of my room changed with her entrance. Anya stood tall, but of firmly formed body. Her deeply rich brown hair reached down to the small of her back. She had brilliant green eyes, which I had often been hypnotized to sleep by in my more drunken states.
She wore a simple form-fitting gown, with silver embroidery. She looked down at me with concerned eyes.
“You’ve not been well lately, Lord. And know your mental welfare is slipping as well, yes?”
I dumbly nodded to her, then took her hand, bowed to her, and kissed it. I led her over to my bed, and bid her sit down with me. I turned to her.
“Do me one service,” I said, “and fire that girl Marianna. I shouldn’t have gotten into those kinds of sorted affairs with her. My grievous mistake.”
“It’s done,” she replied softly. “I trust you learned you lesson about relation with you servants?”
I sighed.
“Yes, yes. I don’t know where to go from here, though. My forces would never stand for long against Elena or Felix. And yet the other countries look to me. What am I supposed to do? Go down valiantly in flames? When I’m gone, there will be no other strong nations to oppose tyranny. And yet the weak free nations insist I fight, when I’m in no condition.”
Anya nodded to me as I spoke, and rubbed my back in a gentle circling pattern.
“I’m afraid I cannot advise you on matters of war. I’m a housecleaner, not a general.”
“I know that, Anya, I know.” I said whilst looking into her eyes, which began to capture me. “Anya…” I said, my voice trailing off gently, as I edged closer to her on the bed.
She stood up suddenly, eyeing me in an annoyed manner.
“Now, now, none of that, Sire! You know I don’t want any part in those manners. Pray, control yourself! I can call a servant, if you wish…”
I shook my head violently and stood up next to her.
“No, no…it’s just that…” I searched for the words, but they would not come. My eyes began to tear. Anya took my hand and held it tightly.
“I know, I know. But I’m not her.”
I looked up at her, the tears now streaming down my face. Anya embraced me warmly, and took to trying my eyes. I gasped through sobs.
“I know you’re not her, I know you’re not, but you’re still the kindest heart I’ve known otherwise. And I just thought that maybe you felt for me like I felt for you. And I apologize for overstepping my boundaries.”
“It’s alright,” she assured me, “I understand.”
“But Anya, you cannot deny that you care for me. Do not deny that.”
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. She looked at me with a petrifying serious glance.
“Aye, Marcus, I care for you. But that is all. Do well not to forget that.”
I shook my head and began to cry again, quietly this time. Anya lifted my head with her hand.
“Marcus, stay here with yourself and no other. You must find strength on your own, and you know this.”
“Anya, please…” I begged, my voice crying out to her.
“No! I have said no! I am now returning to my own quarters, unless your Majesty has some other wish of me.”
I shook my head.
“Very well then, I’ll speak with you later. Take care, Marcus. If you cannot find me, I rode out to visit family in the town below.”
I rose and walked up to her, my composure mostly regained.
“Take care riding, Anya. And sorry. It shan’t happen again.”
She smiled and gave me a quick hug, and then ran out the door.

~~~

I stood outside the Russian Palace, freezing in the deep snow. I looked towards the main gate, and observed the drawbridge being lowered. A single figure on horseback rode out, and toward the village below. I looked to my underling.
“That’s her,” I said with ice in my voice. “And she’s a pretty one. A quick and clean job. Leave her at his doorstep.”
My servant cackled and grinned, and he licked one of his throwing knifes.
“Aye, Master Felix, she is most beautiful. I don’t think I could ever bring myself to cut up her pretty face.”
“Just shut up and do your job, stupid. I’ll be awaiting your arrival back at Devil’s Cross. No slip ups, understand?”
He nodded and placed his knife in his mouth. He mounted his horse, and gave chase to the figure receding in the distance. I chuckled to myself.
“Marianne did well, I’ll be sure to reward her after she returns home. Lord Marcus’s ‘Last Free Empire’ will crumble on the death of one well-selected casualty.”
I mounted my own horse and rode back towards the seaport from whence I had come. I was certain that by the time I reached Devil’s Cross, both Marcus and his empire would be things of the past.

TWDS: Chapter Five: Ringleaders (Part One)

2003-12-23T13:14:07Z

Chapter Five
Ringleaders

“Word is on the street that there are fewer and fewer nations in the world that have not subjected to either the rule of Felix of Devil’s Cross, or Empress Elena of the Germanic States. Things do not look well, comrades.”
I lifted my head from the map which I had been studying. It was riddled with flags marking Austrian troops and opposing German forces. And it did not look good. I looked across the room to my friends, my coconspirators in the rebellion on Elena. My fellow Austrians.
My General of Military Forces, Igor (as he was known to have no last name), made a statement that I was not at all eager to hear.
“What you’re saying, Jon, is that there are no allies left. You’re telling me that it’s over, this time anyway.”
I slammed my fists down upon the table. I could almost feel tears stinging at my eyes. We had been relying upon the last great free country (if you could call it great; it had become dwarfed by the two greater evil empires), the Russian States (as they were now called; they had been once been called Eastern Russian, Indonesia, and Greenland). But the ruler of the Russian States, Marcus Cassin, had declared neutrality in any and all conflict to do with either the Madman or Empress Elena.
Another one of my comrades spat on the ground, almost as if he knew what I was thinking.
“Damn that Russian bastard! He claims nothing but ‘freedom for all countries’, and what does he do? Nothing! Nothing but sit up in his Russian palace, drinking vodka and having the finest Russian whores!”
Igor chimed in again.
“Oh, aye! When we’re sitting here, actually trying to do something about the tyranny! Some one should give him what he deserves!”
There were several shouts of approval for this last comment, and my men continued to curse the Russian for his cowardice. I banged my fists on the table again, calling for order.
“Shut up, the lot of you! Your fight is not with the Russian States, you fools! Set your knife betwixt Elena’s ribs, and Marcus will be no ally of ours later. Let him stay in his palace with his Russian whores, he will not last a day once we are victorious!”
Igor spat back at me.
“But we’re dead, Jon! She’s won! Elena’s won again! It’s over for us! You’ll probably be executed with the rest of us!”
I looked about our bunker, which was nothing but a hole in the ground a mile away from the German-Austrian border. A single lamp hung from the ceiling, and all was dingy and dark. I was surrounded by six good men, most of whose names were a mystery to me.
I was pondering our fate, and not enjoying the prospect of it, when I runner came into our camp, panting hard. He saluted and I nodded for him to proceed.
“Lord, they come. Five miles away from the border, coming down south. They’ll be here soon.”
I dismissed him to rest and eat. He saluted and wandered off for what would probably be his last meal. If we had truly angered Elena, she would spare no mercy and massacre us all. All of us, of course, except the officers such as myself. We had a far worse fate in store.
I could see that Igor had the same thought within his head. He spoke very calmly, though obviously distressed.
“She’s coming for us, Jon. She’ll tear us to pieces when she gets here. Unless, of course…”
I looked at him with surprise in my eyes. I leapt across the room to him, and grabbed him by the arms.
“Unless what? Unless what? Good God man, digress to the rest of us!”
Igor shook me off and straightened his shabby uniform. He turned to me, looking at me like I was a complete idiot.
“Unless, of course, we decide to run.”
All of us stared at him with utter disbelief of how stupid we had been. I looked around. Seven of us. We could travel lightly…
And then I thought of my men, whom had fought hard for me, and faced countless terrors. I looked to Igor.
“But Igor, our men, we can’t leave them! Not after what they’ve been through! They trust in me! I cannot betray that trust!”
Igor became irritated.
“God damn it, Jon, this is why I’m the commander of the military faction, and not you! We’ve got to make sacrifices, and we have to live with that. If we escape, another resistance can be formed. It is pointless that we all die here! And we’ve not got time to argue! We’ve got to leave now, or Elena’s hounds will be upon us!”
I shook myself a few times. As much as I hated it, I knew that he was right, and that it made the most militaristic sense to leave camp now and run, and live to fight another day. My conscience would not bode well, but I knew I had to move.
“Alright, we go,” I said with a heavy heart, “but in which direction do we run, Igor? You’re the strategic one here.”
“South and east. If we go directly south, she’ll catch us. But she wouldn’t expect us to go into Lichtenstein, a territory that is still barbarically loyal to her. Once we’ve lost her, we then take a more direct course south into Italy. It’s technically controlled by Elena, but the sentiments of the people are uneasy. They might listen to some fast talkers like us. If not, we’d be safe for at least a while. And I take it that you gentlemen have no better ideas, so do I have your approval, Lord Jon Wing?”
I nodded.
“Alright, Igor. We move. Now.”
Our men quickly threw together what provisions they could, and broke camp. Igor ordered the soldiers to stand and fight when the time came, and when they were victorious, they could follow our trail into Italy.
I shook my head. It was time to run. Again. Perhaps after all the running and fighting was done, the world would we be at peace again someday. But for now, I was on the move again.

~~~

My blade shone crimson in the early morning sunlight. I had savaged an Austrian resistance group with my fighters. They had outnumbered us three to one, and still we had come out of it victorious, with minor causalities.
“That shows how they train they train their rabble-rousers today, Peter,” I said to my Captain of the Royal Guard, “they aren’t worth the shit blades that they carry.”
Peter chuckled nonchalantly.
“True, true my Empress. But, as I’m sure you realize, we have pressing matters at hand.”
I nodded grimly.
“Wing…this is the third time him and his Austrian fellows have gotten away from me. But I assure you, I will succeed this time in catching him and roasting him alive! I’ve made sure of that!”
Peter nodded, knowing that I was all too serious about the method of punishment of which I spoke. But then he looked at me curiously.
“You’ve made sure of it? Pray tell how?”
I laughed one of my maniacal, deep-throated cackles and shook my head back and forth.
“Peter, dear, all will become clear in time. And methinks you’ll be able to figure it out before then.”
Trackers reported to Peter and I for duty, wanting to know which direction to take. I listened to them give me their preliminary findings, and then spoke.
“South and east. Go south and east. No questions about it.”
The trackers looked at me, dumbfounded. One of them spoke up to me timidly.
“But Empress, all tracks and signs indicate a route taken in a westerly direction, perhaps a tad north.”
I laughed at the stupid fool. Then suddenly, I withdrew a dagger from my belt sash, pulled the unfortunate idiot to me, and placed a stab deeply into the left side of his chest.
“Never question my orders. Ever, you insolent wretch.”
I threw his carcass at the remaining trackers. The body writhed and twitched in the dust, as he whom had displeased me met his grisly end.
“All of you see that?” I said as I gestured toward the carcass, which had stopped moving. “Any of you ever disobey me like that, and you won’t be allotted the quick death he received.”
There was a terrified chorus of “Aye, Empress!”, and the tracking party ran off south and east, after Jon Wing and his cronies.
Peter laughed again.
“I think I see you now, Empress Elena. Must say I’m impressed, too. When will I get to meet this magnificent spy of yours?”
“In due time, brother, in due time. And upon meeting him, I think you’ll be all the more impressed.”