Allya's Stuff

[Allya]

The Haunting of Hilltop House Hotel

I did not look for her on that bitter, snowy night
I did not wish to plumb her darkened halls
I did not wish to see a shining jewel reduced to blight
A monument to beauty and its fall
That she, a queen among the hills could fade into the green
That gleaming white could turn to mottled gray
That she was left unloved, unsung, and unseen
A remnant abandoned to decay
This I could not watch, this I could not see
From this I’d turn my head and shield my eyes
I’d rather see the maiden from my memory
Than know her mournful creaks and withered cries

Each night as my dog Jack crested that last hill
I’d turn away and swiftly race back down
But on this night through destiny, through miracle, through will
Stubborn Jack would not be turned around
Doggedly he pressed and pulled me up protesting
Until breathless we stood before the door
And though my weary bones were clearly bent on resting
He pawed and begged and then pulled some more
Seeing my furry friend was not to be dissuaded
I set my hand and pressed upon the latch
With a whoosh of air the languid corpse was invaded
But it was not the rot that caused my breath to catch

There in the eclipse of her dusty hallowed halls
As cobwebs swayed gently in the air
A warm yellow light licked the edges of the walls
Beckoning me closer to the glare
Trembling though I was, I pressed into the glow
Blinded by the onslaught to my eyes
Fearing what I’d see, but longing to know
I steeled my nerves and moved further inside
Moving ever closer I began to hear a tune
Reminiscent of the waltzes of old
Flowers filled the air with the wave of their perfume
While a burst of warm air pushed against the cold

Surely this would be a trick, a game, a lark
Surely there would be some explanation
Life does not come springing from the cold and dusty dark
Absent motive, means, or causation
Yet here it was and as my eyes began to clear
I knew that I would never be the same
My heart pounded in my chest and drummed into my ears
As I begged my fleeting senses to remain
For there before my eyes was a room that should be bare
A hollow shell littered with the past
But the ballroom was bedecked for a glorious affair
Each table more resplendent than the last

There among the linens, the flowers, the glow
There among the music gay and merry
Were all the famous names I’d come to love and know
As the specters that haunted Harpers Ferry
Their tragedy in life had not followed to the grave
They danced, laughed, and cheered through the night
No treasure to be found, no loved ones to save
No dogs of war clawing for the fight
No fires to put out, no churches to defend
No cares to haunt their weary souls
I watched them dance around as if carried by a wind
That lifted them from their earthly hold

Time rolled away as I watched the ghostly glamour
Losing myself in phantasy
Jack, however, was not so enamored
Struggling against the leash ‘til he was free
He bounded through the room as I heard the music stop
The phantoms all turning to stare
The beautiful illusion dissolving into rot
As they beheld the interloper in their lair
Here they had been safe from the pain of what was
Here among the gloam of their illusion
They did not know of death, they need not know of cause
Happy in the specter of delusion

As I watched them, their ghostly forms decayed
Becoming the haunts I knew so well
The flowers withered, the glow began to fade
Revealing the bones of the hotel
Quickly I retreated, I had to get away
I groped in darkness ‘til I found the door
Then plunged into the night air, waking as a babe
Seeing with new eyes, reborn
In my mind I beheld the shining jewel of old
Knowing now the secrets held within
Wondering aloud as I shivered in the cold
Was it they who haunted me or I them?

[Allya]

Statue's Lament

White marble faces bear silent witness
behind red velvet cord, watching fingers itch,
wishing they could dance over each smooth line.
We were painted once, you know,
our blank sentry a lie.
Each piece separate but equal in form,
pointing to bolder purpose before
our stone moved to echoed halls.
We cannot speak where whispers carry
here behind your fine ropes and lettered plaques.
Humanity, always rushing to define art lest art define.
Do you not know my skin is meant
to be touched?

[Allya]

I cut myself to bleed for you
Broke all my levees for you
Held my breath to breathe for you
Got down on my knees for you
Drank to keep the drink from you
Sank to hide the need from you
Gave strength ‘til I was weak from you
Hid what I would seek from you
Afraid if I would speak to you
Knowing what it means to you
You’d sever my last link to you
Having given everything to you
Here I slowly sink for you
Sanity on the brink from you
This love I bequeath to you
Hoping that you’ll see, do you?

[Allya]

The damp evening air clung to Garran’s clothes as his quiet breath added to the veil that hung over the marsh grasses. The three sisters were out tonight and the violet light of the moons sent an eerie glow through the wisps of fog that clung to the lowland. Garran patiently eyed the field in search of his quarry, a lean rickon that had twice escaped his grasp. His gaze swept back and forth over the blue reeds until he saw the familiar twitch of its long gray ears. It lifted its head and sniffed the shifting haze as Garran quietly bellied up to him. Already he could taste the meal this hunt would bring, the first in five days.

Garran watched as the rickon lowered its head and continued to dig at the soft, wet dirt for grubs. The green peepers peeped in random chorus while the moonbugs cried to the three sisters as he carefully slid his hand into his pack and groped for the weighted net that was his last hope. He had tried the arrow and the rope and both times was left with empty hands and a head full of rage. The net was the way of it he was sure. The arrow was too easy to avoid, the rope too slow to close, but the net would trap the beast before it had time to bound away.

His fingers tightened around the smooth netting and silently freed it from his pack. Garran kept his eyes on the rickon as he spread the net and prepared to pounce. He would have only one chance; he coiled his body and watched his prey. The rickon turned its back and sat up on its hindquarters to search the grasses once more, one ear flicked to the right but otherwise it sat motionless, listening. Garran saw his moment and sprung forth as the net bloomed in the air and swallowed his quarry in one quick motion. “Got you,” he whispered as he twisted its neck.

He waited for the last spasms of life to kick from its back legs and shoved the rickon into his sack. It would be a long trek back to camp but at least he would not return empty handed. As he stood Garran once again surveyed the marsh. The peepers had stopped peeping, the moonbugs sang no tune, the three sisters watched but gave no whispers to explain the static in the air or the slow hum that had started to pulse around him.

Whatever the cause Garran did not wish to meet it. He finished securing his pack and turned to leave the grass while the hum buzzed louder in his ears but as he took his first step the field filled with light. The glare bounced off the low fog, drowning Garran in a shifting sea of blinding white. A booming voice filled the night air with bored derision. “Drop the sack, poacher. Drop the sack and place your hands behind your head.” Garran did as he was told, letting the sack fall to the wet ground in a quiet thump. There would be no meal tonight. Sasha, Erin Bay, Nisson, would never know what became of him but they would guess.

On all sides Garran heard the slosh of boots and the metal click of the transtech. In another moment they were on him, guards of Adamantine. He had gone too close to the southern rampart hidden in the veil that hung over the bog. “Take him then and be done with it. Let’s quickly get clear of this ill night.” Their hands stripped away his pack and net as he was pushed to the ground. From behind Garran heard a long sigh. “Fool,” the guard whispered as he sent a numbing shock down Garran’s spine. Sparks of hot pain coursed through him as the blinding white turned to gray and then black. As his mind sank into darkness his last thoughts were of the rickon. They had a better trap than me.

[James]

Just sat down and read that last little short story you posted, Allya. I'm not actually sure if I ever got around to reading any of your prose before but I'm not exactly surprised to find out that it's marvelous.

Overall impression of the piece is just great stuff really. It was a nice little self-contained story. I always like it when a writer basically bluffs his way into a setting by acting like the reader already knows it. We don't know the three sisters, or Adamantine or much about the setting at all and you don't try to explain... and that draws the reader into the setting in my opinion. There's a little bit of curiosity that doesn't get in the way of the reader's attention from the actual story.

The writing flowed nicely and you definitely take some of that poetry vibe into your prose. My only criticism, one that Pete gets a lot, is sometimes I think it's a little too much:

"The three sisters were out tonight and the violet light of the moons sent an eerie glow through the wisps of fog that clung to the lowland."

violent light, eerie glow, wisps of fog. All of those are great descriptions but in the same sentence, to me at least, they seem a little clunky. But then again:

"The peepers had stopped peeping, the moonbugs sang no tune, the three sisters watched but gave no whispers to explain the static in the air or the slow hum that had started to pulse around him."

Which is arguably even more descriptive and complicated of a sentence is absolutely perfect. Favourite sentence in the story. So I wouldn't worry about too much (and Pete would tell you I'm plainly wrong and I might be). But I would at least be aware of it that sometimes a nice simple sentence can be better used; or a really poetic sentence can just come across too strong for the taste-buds.

But really great little piece, Allya. Is it just a little short story you rustled up or a snippet of something wider? Does this setting have more to it than we've seen here?

[Allya]

This little story is all by itself at the moment. I sort of dreamed about Garran out in the field and decided to put it to words so I could build more later. Thanks so much for reading.

[Allya]

I am going to be attending a wedding of two guild members soon and I am working on a song to give them along with their wedding present. It's a love song so there's only so much you can do with it. I asked them to each give me five things they loved about the other one. Unfortunately I can't convey the tune here and I haven't recorded it yet. Here's what they gave me and what I have so far:

Maggie loves Tim’s:
1. dimples
2. drive to accomplish goals
3. sense of humor
4. way he looks in his jeans
5. his ability to stand by his opinions

Tim loves Maggie’s:
1. dependability
2. pure heart
3. desire to have a family with him
4. brings out his best qualities
5. keeps him organized


World Beautiful

I love the way you hold me with just your smile
So please just hold me for a little while
Let me trace your dimples, the constellation of your face
I’ve made room for you in this heart so you’ll always have a place
You make my world, beautiful
World beautiful
World beautiful world

I know that you’ll be there no matter what storms may arise
‘Cause when I look at you I see our future in your eyes
Your love is my compass pointing to the best of me
We’ll chart this course together and through us they will see
This world is beautiful
World beautiful
World beautiful world

I will keep you laughing; I’ll stand up for you
If you want to reach the furthest star then that’s what we will do
I will be your shelter when life pulls you from the path
Just reach out for these arms, you’ll never need to ask
Our love is beautiful
Love beautiful
Love beautiful love

[Allya]

Close Encounter

The veil has been lifted, my molecules sifted.
You’ve looked to the heart of me.
I’ve been paralyzed, psychoanalyzed.
So tell me what did you see?
Is it gravity or basic depravity
tethering humanity to earth?
Is it violence or fear of silence
that causes our screams at birth?
You’ve watched through the years, cataloguing our fears,
plugging your ears to the din.
Your ships in the ether, are you watcher or seeker,
both or neither, enemy or friend?
As you traveled through space were you able to trace
and look to the face of God?
Tell me what you know! Are we life or tableau,
the center or just the façade?
Did the expanse make you gray or were you born that way?
Did the pitch turn your eyes black?
When you left your world with sun-sails unfurled
did you plan to ever turn back?

Oh God! What’s that thing? What pain will it bring?
Please don’t point it at me!
Not a word will I speak. No stories will leak
of the strange things I have seen.
Ahhh the pain, the burning! My mind is churning.
You’re turning my memory to cinders.

I had such a strange dream and there’s something it seems
I may have forgotten to remember.

[Allya]

I wrote this one at request. I'm not normally so..idk..all about faith and stuff.


Ascension To Faith

Standing on the edge, staring ‘cross the great divide
Wishing for a bridge to carry to the other side
The desires of man burning like a thousand suns
The fire of their plans spurning the hopes of one
I can taste their fuming hate searing from within
The pain will not abate, I’m nearing my end
I have just one choice, one chance to show my heart
My action is my voice, my dance before I part
I brace to take the leap, drinking in last thoughts of you
I know your love will keep me from sinking in the blue
This world’s turning to dust, scattering in the wind
These wings have gone to rust, shattering with descent
Gravity loses hold, the earth rushing to grasp
One free falling soul, birthed through fire and ash
I took faith’s leap for you, and though I may meet death
Know your Icarus flew on hopes’ eternal breath
Do not live in sorrow or mourn our time apart
All our time is borrowed, torn and counted from the start
Instead smile for me, live each and every day
Let laughter drown your grief, forgive those who betrayed
Show those who would harm us with fire, anger and hatred
That our love has armed us and inspires us to greatness

[Allya]

The dream is always the same. I’m sitting alone in my favorite comfortably worn armchair with a reading light casting a warm orange glow about my living room. The house is silent except for a distant dripping. It could be coming from the eaves or perhaps it’s the slow drip of the kitchen faucet. Wherever it is, I ignore it and go back to reading one of the old books I’ve pulled from my favorite stash.

But I can’t concentrate on the words; they jumble up before my eyes as the dripping becomes louder and more insistent. Soon the sound is all around me, spattering at the windows, drumming on the roof, pinging the sinks, and even running in a thin stream down the chimney. I walk over to put another log on the fire and lose my balance as the ground begins to rumble beneath my feet. Something’s coming and it’s big.

I drop the wood onto the fire and rush to peer out the window and into the moonless night. I see no stars, no clouds, no light at all. There are dark, shapeless shadows shifting in the black but I can’t make out their form. I hope they are only the pines but fear they are not.

I step back from the window as the house begins to shake. The windows rattle, the pipes groan and creak and water starts running in rivulets down the walls. I run to the front door and fling it wide hoping to catch glimpse of the fury bearing down on my house but I am rewarded only with stinging rain and thunderous roar that has swallowed all the familiar night sounds of my old home.

With great effort I fight to close the door and lean against it exhausted by the task. I press my sweaty palms against it and stare wide-eyed into my home, watching as the water rushes down the walls and chimney puffing out the fire and rearranging my furniture. Soon the windows are shattering as water pushes through my carefully chosen double-paned glass, all while a cacophonous roar drowns out my screams. As the giant wave of water bears down on my home and peels away my walls, I brace myself against the door and close my eyes.

I always wake up drowning.

I don’t know why I write this. The dream isn’t real. I’ve never had such a home. It’s dangerous to write such things though I have taken every precaution I can think of. You’ll see, of course, that I was smart enough to use paper instead of a digipad. I taught myself letters using chalk first just like Carl told me and then moved to pen and paper. It was hard to come by but…I have to hope. I have to believe you’re out there. I can’t be the only one.

I walk these gray, one way streets full of high rises and low people talking out both side of their mouths and I look. I search for you and for others. I search for that spark behind the eye that says there’s more. I’m looking for light in all these shapeless shadows. God I hope it’s there.

[Allya]

Second attempt at making the poem for the wedding. Man I hate writing love poems. I hope that doesn't make me a bad person! Does it feel like I'm phoning it in?

With This Ring

Today I take your hand in mine
Promise to stand by your side
Cherish every dimpled smile
Share your laughter through the miles
Cheer you when you forge ahead
Share your dreams and share your bed
Love you when you stand your ground
Build you up when life tears you down
You can always depend on me
And on the love that with this ring
I’ve said

Today I give to you my heart
Though you held it from the start
I see our children in your eyes
Your love’s my compass, your heart my guide
You point to the best of me
And each day I will strive to be
The love that lights your smiling face
In these arms you’ll have a place
I promise to carry these vows with me
To show the love that with this ring
I pledge

Flowers wilt and pictures fade
The spring of youth will turn to gray
But through the years I’ll hold this day
The love we feel, the words we say
The laughter shared and music played
The toasts from friends over champagne
The love your secret smiles contained
The tremble as your kiss was laid
And I’ll remember that today
With these rings, in every way
We wed

[ASGetty ((Zovo))]

I always feel like I'm faking it when I try and write anything affectionate. Like, I feel like what I'm writing is true, but all words read really cheesy-like.

[Deleted]

Aug 19, 2011 16:24:16 GMT -5 ASGetty ((Zovo)) said:

I always feel like I'm faking it when I try and write anything affectionate. Like, I feel like what I'm writing is true, but all words read really cheesy-like.

Me too. I think it comes from having one of these pesky little things called a penis. Even though I'm a mushy kinda guy, I just can't write good affectionate poetry.

I do like this poem, though. It made me blush and it's not even for me!

[Allya]

I'm not even sure it's a guy thing. I hate writing love poems. I guess I feel that "I Love You" says everything that needs saying. It's the other emotions that are more complex.

[Allya]

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