Flag under the Battlements

I wasn’t cut out to be a soldier and that was that. Plated armor adorned my leather tunic, it felt heavy and immobile. The long spear, almost three quarters my own height and designed to splinter wooden shields effortlessly, felt cumbersome in stead of the normal short spear balanced in my grasp. Elskier frisked nervously beside me, blowing his lips, flicking his tail and trotting on the spot. The grey stallion was as nervous in a large crowd as I.

The square was the biggest in the city. The city was the largest in Fahier. It was full. A dozen bright colored banners flapped listlessly in the gentle wind, baring the symbols of their respective Legions. Alfaler’s nobleman and troops bore an eagle in flight upon a red banner, wisdom and foresight. The house of Lord Berez and his squadron waved a white banner with golden doves trimmed in green. Messengers of the royal house. Hunder’s men bore blue flags and cloaks, imprinted with golden ivy leaves, the advisors. A handful more banners were familiar to me, but I could not identify their houses. The rest I had not seen before.

All twelve noble houses and their armed forces have gathered here. I was among them as an employee of Lord Berez. A rare friend, for whom I had worked with in the infancy of my employment, smiled at the uneasiness that oozed from my posture. A pat on the shoulder gave me some reassurance, but not much. I had come to advise, infiltrate, steal maybe, and certainly explore, but never to go to war. No one offered any word of comfort, should it bring bad luck on the battlefield.

“Jiar!”

I wrenched my body around, but not in time to brace against a brightly colored bundle hurtling itself into my arms. The brown black locks of her hair waved freeing behind her. I could not feel the warmth of her embrace through the thick armor.

“Mariem”

It wasn’t uttered as a question. Her bright clothes, blue skirts, pale yellow bodice, lavender shawl, were comparable only to the banners dotting the field of men. Most of the other women that have come to farewell their sons, husbands, brothers, lovers or friends chose mourning dress in dull grays and morose blacks. Many will never see again those that they have come to farewell.

Nevertheless, the bubble of excitement still buried deeply in my armor was determined to fill our last moments together in speculation of the bright future. I was going to find the treasures long lost in an old city ruin, but not before slaying a hundred enemies. I was going to come back glorified in her fathers name and my victories, held in the highest regard by the king himself! But to me, none of that mattered, and contented myself in burying my face into her hair that smelt of floral bath oils. She was still babbling into my shoulder. Mariem, anything for you.

The horn blew, resounding in deep, reverberating bellows, once, then twice. I peeled her away from my, reluctantly, then turned to mount. People all around me followed suit. It was time to go. With a great cheer uncharacteristic of the fallen faces all around us, the trumpets were raises. The banners were hoisted; they now flew in the wind. The ranks fell into line. Two by two, the front line infantry began to filter out of the square, down the straight road running from square to city wall, and out the heavily fortified gates. Then the cavalry followed. Time to go. With another glance back, I saw Mariem had retreated with the crowd, parting to allow the ranks to pass. The rows in front of me began to shift. She threw me a grin. Looking forwards, I edged Elskier on. A disembodied voice floats through my mind, my English tutor’s, breathing famous words into my ear.

“Come, let us ride”

Sweet, sensual, hot, calm, loud, warming, happy, (refle)|(ctive), illogical, rAnDOm, irreplaceable, long, short, PARADoxical, cool, languid days…


Mysterious, adventurOUS, dark, warm, exposed, WELcoming, beckoning, Emotional, simple, charming, humid nights…


Sun, sea, sand, stars, wind, palms, heat, trees, bees, Noon, clouds, LOVE, friends…


Water, bonfires, swimming, Laughter, sunset, sunrise, crickets, forests, meetings…


Cloud gazing, hanging out, bum in the park, water fights, sleepover, barbecue with friends, going on walks, admiring the view, travelling overseas, making everlasting memories…


While we laze on the beach, watching the evening sun paint the sea gold, with the foaming waves lapping at our feet, the wind swaying the palms and our friends splashing in the water, with a chilled coke in one hand, and the other caged in the one we love, we think…


Sweet Summer

Dont Judge Too Quickly

The world is supposed to run on love.

Just count the number of books that are written about love.

Romantic love.

But then you’d be counting for the rest of your life.

Walk into a music store, and stare at the various tracks suspended on the walls.

How many aren’t about a broken heart

Or a newly found one

Or one that’s burning with passion

Or freezing with cold

And in the end, it’s still about love.

The greatest myths, the oldest, are ultimately tied with love.

This god fell in love with that, bringing disaster upon the world

Bringing winter upon the earth in Greece

And make the sparrows of the world build a bridge

Every New Year

With their own bodies

For love.

For a love they probably don’t even understand

And you know your best friend over there?

The one that'd always around in the dead of night

Sorry to tell you that no,

She doesn't really think you're that interesting

And she doesn't talk to you

Because she just likes listening to your problems

She think's she's in love

No, she doesn't know why

Next time, when you talk to her

Keep this in mind,

That one day, the day she does pluck up the courage

To confess like they do in the movies

At what she thinks is the perfect time

You'll first be shocked, then confused, then

You wouldn't really know what to say

Because you're raised to think that love is a good thing

When it really just gets in the way

You might as well say goodbye to her first now

Save yourself the tears

Poets verse about love,

Their despair inspiring the tears of others

And critics rate it as ‘tragic beauty’

Pass them on to the younger generation

Brainwashing them into appreciating

The pain these poets enjoyed

Who doesn’t know about Romeo and Juliet?

How many less would know

If they had a happily ever after

Or just ended up getting

A divorce.

 

Some people say it's the best feeling in the world

Their friends would nod their heads and agree

Thinking of the time that they thought that way

Before love stripped them of their naivety

Who's to blame?

The countless hollywood movies

Where the guy always ends up with the right girl

Or else heroically dies trying

Sorry to burst your bubble,

But life is almost always a disappointment in that region

More than likely you'll end up on a friends couch

Sobbing out your heart out till next season

Even now, my library on Itunes

Is singing about how love brought him to life?

Sorry mate, didn’t want break it to you

But it wasn’t really love

Your mother drank too much

And your father was a little tipsy that night

The rest was history

I’d rather not repeat.

With us as we are

This is the only world we know

We cry over it, we laugh over it

Ultimately, we’ll just get sick of it

Some just skip to the sick stage

Much faster than anyone else

And I happen to be in that category

As you, my dear readers,

Would’ve probably guessed.

Good night. Good luck

And I will not say I love you all

But here is a bit more food for thought.

Isn’t hate just much of a more

Exciting emotion?

Greatest Treasure

Day 1


Last night, my house had been broken into. My house is impossible to break into. The gates had been locked at eight pm, just like every other night. Watch dogs patrol the expansive grounds restlessly. Trip wires and cameras are set all around the house. He had managed to bypass all of these, to arrive at the balcony to my house, unlock it, avoid all of the pressure sensors around the doorway and came in. Why go to all that trouble… and not even steal anything?

My father had his fair share of priceless things. As an avid collector of anything and everything, this mansion was more a vault than anything. Endlessly paranoid, our security system had given the family more than their fair share of trouble. Like that time I was climbing a tree, and had set off one of the trip wires, ending up with screaming alarms all over the house, security swarming over to my location, only to see me clamping my hands over my ears in a tree. We were very much kept at bay by the system as any outsiders were. No one was hardheaded enough to try and rob the Lister family. But last night, someone had the nerve to take a tour of the house, uninvited.

This morning, everyone just went about their business as usual. Father rose as usual at six thirty, the live in maid having already prepared a fresh pot of hot coffee, the aroma permeating the air and drifting lazily towards my room. Father’s deep voice had disturbed me from my uneasy slumber as I woke with a start. Mothers gentle voice sung through the air, as she gently hummed a tune whilst frying a traditional breakfast. The culinary revolution sweeping through the UK had not yet touched this family. Jamie Oliver was a stranger to her. My brother was no doubt still snoring in bed. Primary school students did not have to attend classes until 8:30, and he milked this to his full advantage. Everything seemed normal. I hoped what I saw was just a dream, just a bad dream. My hopes were shattered when the glitter of the kitchen knife wedged between my mattress and the bedside table caught my eye in the morning sun. I didn’t usually sleep with knives, only yesterday. I felt drained, and it was only morning.

*****

“Heya”

I turned to see two girls, one tall, with long flowing hair, and the other, shorter, in bouncy pigtails, trotting to catch up with me. My shoulders relaxed, but who was I expecting to see, the robber from last night? Well he wasn’t technically a robber. He didn’t steal anything. The intruder then, that will do nicely. They finally caught up.

We were walking to school, like we did every other morning. The weather was average, cloudy, gloomy and slightly chilly. Our skirts clung to us in front as we walked against the wind, and then billowed out like sails as the wind changed direction. We kept one hand on our straw hats, redundant in this weather. But rules were rules. We passed the same shops. There was a café with business men sitting by themselves at small, round, metallic tables meant for two, buried into their news papers. Then, we passed the newsagent, with people bustling in and out with papers. Some sort of office followed, with glass paneled walls and burly security standing beside the neat woman behind the marbled reception. A tall vase of withering flowers stood at the corner. Past that, there was a small alleyway, and then a small posh restaurant with an unpronounceable French name. Clarence street junction. We crossed with the tens of other business people in black, always black, carrying square suitcases that were probably heavier than what they carried by far. Normal, normal, normal.

An out-of-place candy heaven, a toy store, a MacDonald’s and around ten minutes later, we arrived at the iron wrought gate marking private property of my high school just as it was about to swing shut. Students were already milling into the dark brick buildings, reluctant to be late to class. Such action was not an expression of studious habits, but rather a way to avoid harsh punishment. We joined the throng, and let ourselves be swept away into the river, joining the current and occasionally shoving this way and that to alter our course. It was just like every other day.

*****

As the history teacher droned his way through another chapter in the textbook that we had all read an hour ago, I let my mind drift to last night again. I had been a light sleeper ever since I had started high school. I had very good hearing. Even then, it was just pure chance that I happened to have been awake at the exact moment he chose to enter through the balcony. The door had squeaked minutely. I heard, but thought naught of it. Not even a mosquito could enter the house if they hadn’t been invited. My brother must’ve been inviting mosquitoes into my room. I lay in bed, gazing at the blank ceiling, trying to congeal an image from the millions of dots that floated freely before my eyes, with no such luck. Then I heard something brush against my door. Stiffening, I slowly closed my eyes, leaving a crack, turned to my side, and watched behind thick lashes as my door eased open…

He was not conventionally handsome. Those eyes were set a bit too deep, the brows a bit too thick, the nose a bit too aristocratic and the jaw a bit too strong. Thick curly tresses drooped over a high forehead, sparkling eyes glinted with mischief. He was… striking. He looked too young to have the amount of quiet confidence only someone in their middle decades had. He looked old enough not to be brash, and walked with silent grace. His footsteps made no sound as the door swung open and he entered the door frame. His lips contorted into a grimacing smile, but there was no evil in that expression. His dark cloak hid everything but heavy boots. Heavy boots that made no sound? Him, him, him…intruder. The vase room had been to the left of the corridor, the way he had left, so why were the precious gold vases not taken? A thief with any ounce of common sense would’ve seen that they were worth more than a few pounds. But no, everything was perfectly in place, not a single smug of dirt on the carpets suggested anyone had trod upon them from when everyone had retired to their beds to this morning… what was he after then? My family? But everyone seemed fine…

“MISS Lister, I insist you share with us your opinion on who murdered JFK”

My teacher was staring at me with warning in his gaze.

“What? The intruder?”

The class collectively lifted their eyebrows. I mentally sighed. Let’s see how I can bullshit myself out of this one.

Just another typical day really.

*****

AN// should I continue the story =O

Naruto Fanfic.

Forget Me...
Lightning flashed and thunder boomed outside, but all she could hear was the sound of her own sobbing. Hiccups wedged their way in between tears, making a very comical sound. Though there was thunder and lightning, not a drop of rain fell. It was as if the sky was merely angry, but not grieving. How she wished to just disappear. Her grief washed over her in waves, every wave brought forth pain and heart ache. It was as if she was being broken again and again. Her throat was sore and her eyes were stinging from her tears. But to her, these were just trivial annoyances, compared to the pain in her heart.

His last words. His last request. She did not understand how he could something so terrible to her, to his village. She could not do what he asked of her, but it was his last request after all. Before he left. Before he left her in darkness. Before he disappeared from her life, leaving behind a trail of destruction and pain. She curled herself into the ball, as if trying to hide from the world, from pain. Her whimper was choked by more tears, as new wave of sorrow passed over her mind. The rain finally came, ridding the air of a sticky, humid feeling. Relief. It battered the high window around her, soothing her somewhat. Her tears dried out as the rain started. She gazed at her surroundings with puffy eyes, bloodshot from weeping. She sat leaning against the wall of a house that seemed to have been abandoned many years ago. One wall had collapsed, letting in quite a large amount of rain. Everything was covered in a layer of dust or dirt. The rubble from the ruined wall was scattered everywhere. It felt as if the whole place would crumble at a touch.

She was so immersed in her memories that she saw none of this. To her, the walls were still intact, strong and reliable. Children were running to and fro in the halls. Candles on fancy brackets illuminated everything within the building with a warm light. Plants in splendid ceramics decorated the walkways and rooms. Carpet covered the floors, patterned beautifully in swirls of maroon and gold. Paintings that hung on the walls betrayed important people and previous owners of the mansion, were gold gild and stood gleaming in their polished frames. The place had held an aura of festivity and hospitality. It was hard to imagine that this place was stripped of it glory in mere hours, into this forbidding ruin. In mere hours, he had turned from comrade to foe.

Not a sign of life was seen other than the girl in the mansion for miles around. Buildings were blackened from the flames that had consumed them, others collapsed after the attack. Other places, where buildings had once been, were no ore than a heap of stone and ash. The village was silent. A ruin. Surprisingly, no bodies were found anywhere. One would expect to find the bodies of the deceased after witnessing the result of such a terrible event. Not that she cared. She was so wallowed in self grief that she did not notice the rain stop, that she did not notice another person approach her. Only when he tapped her shoulder did she look up, with hope in her face. When she saw who it was, her expectant expression lowered a fraction, but the boy did not seem to notice. He was smiling, even though the event had just cost him many friends. She was surprised to find the boy tattered and bruised, while she herself was not hurt. She healed him before following him out of the ruin. He stroked her shoulder comfortingly, and was surprised when she did not react.

As the sun crept over the horizon, two figures were seen walking away from the ruined town. A blond boy was followed by a pink haired girl as they exited the gates of Konoha. Seemingly hundred of mounds had been built, outside the gate, where the bodies of the deceased had been buried; well at least all the bodies that could be found within the ruins. Sakura and Naruto both looked back for one last time. Instead of the busy streets and throng of people they were both so used to coming back to every time a mission was completed, deserted streets and destruction met them. Sakura could not help but break into tears again. A small group was already waiting for them outside the city gates, those few who had survived. In the cluster of 20 to 30 people, Sakura and Naruto could only identify four or five of their friends.
“Where will we go and what will we do?”
Naruto answered Sakura with never ending good humor, though inside, he did not know either.
“Why! We will travel and train to become stronger. Then, we will be able to beat Orochimaru and bring Sasuke back! After that, we can rebuild Konoha. You will become a great healer and I will become Hokage!! Believe it!!”
Sakura smiled slightly. There was still hope. Then a darker thought entered her mind.
“If Sasuke still wants to come back”
This time Naruto did not reply. He wasn’t sure he could trust himself.
They walked on towards the rising sun in silence. The group of ninjas walked east, towards a large expanse of desert. Perhaps they could find some refuge within the village of the sands. After a while, Naruto turned around to face Sakura with a quizzical look on his face.
“What did Sasuke say to you back there?”
Sakura answered in a cold voice, stoic of emotion.
“He asked me to forget him”
Naruto looked back again with a smile.
“Then forget him…for now”

Dream Child

We could have been running away, but if we were running away from someone, we were evidently lacking in any sort of fear. The running was joyous, and since we could not be wearied, it was the greatest freedom that I would ever feel in this world. Our footsteps scuffed the loose dirt under our feet, packed hard by many feet walking over them, by carts, wheels, and the odd horse or two. The ground was bleached white by the sun and so were the buildings molded out of mud brick and rock all rearing their head over us; providing relieving shade from the burning sunlight that we could not feel. We could not feel the choking dust in our lungs, nor the gritty taste of earth in our mouths either. We breathed only fresh air.

Laughing clung to the air around us, as we looked back over our shoulders and saw no shadow of pursuit. Yet we still ran, knowing there was something, someone behind us, though too far away to be of threat to us. The few people that wandered the streets only glanced at us, either smiled in amusement or frowned disapprovingly, and then melted discreetly back into the sandy buildings with their dark, yawning doorways. I tried to see where they melted too, but a frame of dark hair that I guessed was mine gently screened my field of vision in that direction. Shrugging it from the forefront of my mind, I turned instead to my friends. There were a group of familiar faces on lithe, bronzed bodies. Many wore shorts in brown, cream and other neutral colors. Some wore flowing white shirts while others wore a singlet over their lean bodies. They ran with me, regularly breaking into skips or jumps, or taking a few steps backwards as if in jest of those who followed. Their hair whipped around their faces in the wind as we ran, and their eyes sparkled in the sun. All fair faces, with dark tresses.

The road ran straight as far as we could make out distinctly, but as we ran on, we saw that it began to curve off to the right. We slowed down as the road began to curve, as if confused as to which direction we should travel next. Eventually, we slowed to a stop between a dead end and a junction that sped off eternally to the right, and was lost in a haze of light. One of the nameless friends broke away from the group, and walked a little way forwards. She turned to me a smiled, not with her lips but with her eyes that seemed to bury itself into my very core. She beckoned us forwards with a wave of her hand, held me in her gaze for a little longer and then turned, breaking the contact. We ran forwards, up a narrow flight of staircase hewn into sandy rock that made up a wall stretching right as far as the road, and connected to a house on the left. The sky was endlessly blue. A single, gnarled olive tree wound its roots into the rock around the beginning of the stairway, and silver leaves lingered on steps high above where the tree’s highest branches came to an end. Up and up, we travelled further and saw the city spreading below us. And then the stairs leveled out onto a grassy plain, stretching into the distance. Like before, a tree guarded the entrance into the next world, this time, a three with chocolate bark and fiery red and gold five fingered leaves. Its rusty foliage whispered and sighed in the none-existent wind, its high straight trunk supporting an expansive canopy. Its dark bark was furrowed and rough under my fingertips, entwining and snaking upwards and then spreading out into the elegant limbs. A dappled enclosure of shade surrounded its base, where the grass began to thin, then faded into thick, solid roots plunging themselves into the ground.

Soft, green grass tickled my ankles as I watched my companions began to remove their shoes. I followed suit. I could feel the grass. I could bath in the warmth of the sunshine. Beyond the gently spreading hill, the cream colored city stretched out to the edge of the ocean, and the dark blue waves tipped with foam crashed silently against a golden strip of beach. Focusing on the foreground, little white butterflies dotted the green grass, winking in and out of existence, lightly settling onto the white and yellow suns that dotted the lawn, then launching themselves into the air again and winking out of existence. The sun was no where to be seen, but it felt like early afternoon. The field seemed endless, and not a single tree grew in the middle of the roughly triangular plot, but lined the field on two sides, blocking our view of the surroundings. They seemed small to our eyes.

Turning where I stood, I noticed that the fourth side, behind the great red tree was a sharply sloping dirt wall. Curious as to what lay beyond it I stood at the foot and looked up. Nothing but sky. I tried it, and found the slope, impossible to climb in real life, easily supported my weight. I began to climb, feeling for foot holds and hanging on to various protrusions from the rough, textured surface. It was rather like the side of a mountain. Once in a while I would look down, and found that I was going up at an incredibly slow pace, though my legs and hands, rubbed red, said otherwise. Meanwhile, the group had gathered at where I had begun my climb, looking up at me with blank expressions. One stood out from the group, the same that had pointed out the stairway, and called to me. I cannot begin to describe what he said because it was not with words. It was like a tune that left her lips gently, and then floated up, in a gently crescendo in proportion to the altitude it gained, and by the time it had reached me, turned into a piercing, though not loud, beckoning. It was a sign, like everyone knows to run with the sound of an alarm bell. I retraced my steps, and jumped down a way from the ground. I fell gently and landed with a soft thump on my feet. The girl smiled her approval.

We spent the rest of the day in the field, chasing each other, chasing butterflies, rolling in the grass and resting under the shade of the tree. Time passed quickly, or my feeling of time was very much distorted, and suddenly, the sky ebbed into a dusty orange, and slivers of pink cloud adorned the horizon. A glowing red sun sunk halfway over the horizon bathed the creamy city in an infernal glow. The quivering sea, chanced upon by an ambitious alchemist, was transformed into liquid gold. By this time, we had all gathered near the tree again, and sat, while the girl who had led the group and called me down, stood in front of us, facing the sunset. She first began to hum, and then the first breeze of that day swept into our little group, and kissed our bronzed skin, raising goose bumps in its path. When the first coherent notes fell from her lips, they were once again, not words, but we understood what she was trying to describe. New life to replace the old, a new day to follow this one, just as night follows day, and is then chased away again. Just as trees grow old, a sapling will replace it, and just the adults will die, we will grow to rule the world. Before our eyes, a crack broke the ground near the base of the tree near the stairway, and a sapling grew where there was nothing before. And as the sapling grew, a thin sheen of frost began to creep up the roots of the magnificent tree. As the leaves of the sapling turned from a tender lime, to brilliant emerald, to a dusty yellow green and then into red and gold, the leaves of the older tree began to wither and brown. By tomorrow, one tree would’ve replaced the other. We turned back to the sky.

The sun had set, leaving only a tinge of orange separating the murky water from the velvety sky. A scatter of diamonds reached towards the after-glow of the day, blanketing us in its silvery shine. Once again, the oceans changed its gown, this time to one of quicksilver, shimmering and distorting in the dim light. The city, once red like the flames of hell, now glowed like age old bone, bleached ivory in the light, and lay silent and dark as its citizens slumbered. A mixture of light and deep shadows, one could make out strange faces outlined by buildings and white ribbon streets. Where the city ended abruptly to where we sat, the grass, rippling in the breezes that had permeated the once still air danced to their own unheard music…