Apology for the Miss Last Week – Goal: Challenge #16 – Include a Poem in the Narrative
Since last week, I have been unable to post my daily posts and updates to previous posts. This month is my semester’s Finals. I believe that some readers and viewers know what it’s like to prep, study, and fast-pace for their Finals which includes Exams, Projects, Quizzes, Assignments, and Significant Others’ Points that can become either a student’s doom grade or miracle grade.
I am apologizing sincerely for missing out last week’s updates and for this yesterday’s Wednesday and I am writing a narrative with a poem at 1200 artificial word limit inside instead of just a random poem or continuing narrative.
Please give me feedback in the comment section below and thank you.
The Willow that Weeps
December 12, 2018 11:46 PM
“Dinna go ‘ere, ye silly bairns! ” A grave elderly voice thickened with Scottish accent, fell harshly upon the wispy pale ears of five children in front of a tall, burly man with a greyish-ginger red beard in his black and red checkered shirt. Four of the children were juvenile troublemakers in their pre-teens saved for the youngest girl, who was hugging herself and rocking on the ground.
The angry voice woke up the young man in his thirties with a brown stubble rounding his mouth under his nose to his high cheeks from his nap on the leather couch made of synthetic furs. He sat up with a yawn and leaned against the couch.
“Hey! What did they do this time, Davie?” The man spoke to the big, angry man rebuking the five trembling children in his almost perfect English.
Davie pointed out at the window with his thumb and said, “Conan, wee ones your.”
Uncle Conan looked out the window and saw the black bare pine forest, a startling contrast against the whiteness of the snow. He turned from the window and his face was dark and grim, a rare soberness that caught the attentions of four children.
Uncle Conan said to the two boys and two girls in their pre-teens, “You went there because you want to see if it is true.”
It was a statement, not a question. The older children wondered whether their uncle would give them a stern ear-lashing lecture. Uncle Conan scooped up his youngest niece, Addie and stared at her in the eyes with a fatherly gaze.
She whimpered in a muttering voice, “I….I-I-I-I..”
Uncle Conan rested Addie against his chest as the five years old child clutched to his shirt as if she was holding on for life. Uncle Conan rubbed her back in small soothing circles and Addie fell calmly quiet.
Uncle Conan said to the older children, “Donald, Eagan, Elizabeth, and Lillian, what are you trying to find?”
The boys and one of the girls, Elizabeth felt proud and held out a piece of cloth, “There is a treasure map in the forest!”
Uncle Conan snatched the fabric from their hands and his face became stark pale as snow. Without any hesitation, the man stood up and grabbed his blue and green plaid jacket and brown hat. The four children followed him because they were told to, to the forest that Davie has yelled at the children for.
Uncle Conan stopped at the edge of the forest and knocked on the wood of the tree with the children behind him. The ominous sounds of galloping horses could be heard.
Clop! Clop! Pak! The children saw a black rider riding a fierce, black stallion toward them in his black and gold plaid leather coat, hat, and cape.
Uncle Conan presented the piece of fabric to the rider with a bow of his head, “Sir, I believe that this is your. I apologize for my nieces and nephews’ rude curiosity. “
Addie turned her head around to see the black rider and bowed her head like her uncle, “Sorry-sorry-ry.”
The black rider spoke to Uncle Conan in a strange language that the children couldn’t understand until the rider galloped away.
Uncle Conan sat down on a sturdy log with Addie and said to the four standing children, “Do you want to hear the story or not?”
The kids nodded their heads and said to their uncle, “What did he say?”
Uncle Conan answered, “A poem that tells a story.
-There was a powerful king a long time ago
-A beautiful queen stood by him in the past
-Their kingdom lost the war to an alliance of ego
-For forty-five days and nights, the royalty was cut last.”
One of the boys excitedly asked, “What happened?”
Uncle Conan answered,
“-The bad guys slaughtered and pillaged
-They hacked the king’s head off his neck
-Tore the queen’s heart out from her chest
-But the children, women, and elderly were ravaged.
-So the king became the Headless Ride upon his death
-Swearing vengeance against his trespassers and foes’ villages
-The queen became the Heartless Maiden.
-She did not cry, but wanders the forest grieving
-It’s no legend. Those who meet the Heartless Widow,
-will tear our their own hearts from their chests, until numbing
-Those hunted by the Headless Rider are cursed with nowhere to hide
-When the willow tree is touched or harmed, the king fell in love with her then his wife can’t break the rules without dying for a pleases to save the world.
-It’s not just about being monsters, they only come for the dead ones.
-Stand or stay near the Willow Tree, the tree is cursed with a woman’s sadness and the king’s power-hungry lust. It’s just a future bloodbath.”
The four children did not understand their uncle’s poem.
One of the boys, Donald protested, “But Uncle! Are you trying to say that ghosts exist? If so, then why are the treasure chests there on this map? Why did you return the map to that foreigner?!”
Smack! Uncle Conan slapped his nephew in the face with his large hand, silencing the youngster’s voice. Uncle Conan was still holding Addie in his arms and scolded the children with a grave, desperate tone. He snatched their hands and sighed in relief.
“The poem I have given you is a warning from our ancestors. Ghosts do exist, so is the Curse of Netherbloom. But if you anger the spirits by taking what is not your, from their resting place, you will have to pay a horrible price. If you bear the black markings on your hands from going to the forbidden forest, you will die. Without your head or your heart in the cruelest, terrifying way possible.”
Lillian cried, “But why should we die from a horrible curse?”
Uncle Conan explained to his niece, “Because we are the descendants of the ones who brutally executed the king and queen of a forgotten empire. Once you know your death markings, you will receive a visit from the old gods, the Headless Rider or the Heartless Widow. Run, then you will be hunted to the end of the world. So I ask you now, what the fuck did you touch in the forest?!”
The four children did not say anything except to continue their defiant protests. Addie began to whimper and shudder, Uncle Conan looked out the window. What he saw brought despair to his face. His knees fell weak and the man sat down on the couch.
Knock! Knock! The people looked out the window and were startled unpleasantly. Against the frosted bluish glass, a woman was dressed in a white veiled dress with a bloody gaping large hole in her chest. Her face could not be seen because of the snow that began to fall harshly from the sky. But she has sharp twisted icicle fangs that glistened in her gentle smile as her black eyes stared at the four children with a delicate hunger.
The girls screamed, the boys shouted. She wrote a strange language on the window’s glass.
Uncle Conan stared at it for thirty seconds after the monstrous woman disappeared into the snowstorm. He said his prayer, “Thank you for forgiving us.” He turned to the children, “That’s a warning to you guys. Don’t go back to the forest anymore idiots.”