Rusty has been chewing on a big old cow hip bone that we got her for the Christmas break. She loves it, but it’s had to go outside because, and not to put too fine a point on it, it smells like death now.
Any way, it inspired this little mess about with iMovie on the iPad…
I am a fan of E.A.Poe – and my own verse lead to my nickname becoming “Raven” back when I was heavily into the motorbike scene. The guy who named me “Raven” was one of my closest friends (Ryan “Ox” Brown) – and he sadly passed away well before his time.
As a mark of remembrance to him I officially took “Raven” as my middle name. Most people knew me by the name back then anyway.
I digress… or not…. I wanted to write something with a tale to it in a similar way to Poe, and this is what I came up with many, many years ago (’95 I think). It constantly gets tweaked, and this is the latest (2008) version.
The Night of Leaves
This is a tale that must be told,
About a man, whom to the Devil sold,
A soul so twisted, this is no lie,
This tale, of how he came to die.
His day had been a little tough,
His day had been a little rough,
Though now his day had finally ended,
He was unaware of those he’d offended.
He was a corporate climber bold!
He had no fear – his heart stone cold!
But as he took his evening drink,
It was then the man began to think…
The sun had set, the light came dim,
His whisky gave a glow within,
With doors and windows bolted tight,
He settled to a restful night.
“They” were waiting in his head,
Sat by his hearth with embers dying,
Unaware that his heart was lying,
He reflected on a hard life’s work,
Aware of not where terrors lurk.
Slowly, as his eyes grew weary,
His hold on thought now getting dreary
Then a knock upon his window came!
Then another – just the same!
“It’s just a branch in passing breeze!”
He said to shadows cast by trees,
But when the knock grew slowly louder,
He sought solace in a measured powder.
“Who is there?” The man curtly said,
“At this hour I’d be in bed!”
“If not my ears that hear this knocking…
…then surely it is something shocking?”
“They” were hiding in his head,
To wait for him to go to bed.
The knocking stopped – to much relief,
Though his heart now sped beyond belief!
He poured more whisky in his glass,
And waited for his fear to pass.
Then a tone – so shrill, yet black,
Sent a shiver down his back,
Fear turned the sound to Demons singing!
He laughed! “It’s just my cell phone ringing!”
He raised his ‘phone….but still the ringing!
So reasoned he at this “Demon singing”
A siren? A siren from beyond his wall!
A car alarm – and that is all!
But then the frosted ringing stopped,
His telephone, the man then dropped…
For an image he did see,
In the shadows of a tree…
“They” were calling in his head,
Slowly filling him with dread.
He froze in horror – disbelief!
At the forms picked out in leaf,
Vividly he could recognise,
These faces, that fell before his eyes.
Then once more the knocking started!
By now the man felt quite weak hearted,
He put it down to too much spirit,
Although his fear just wouldn’t hear it.
Then again the ringing sounded!
His head spinning – quite astounded!
But now that ring was forming deeper,
Like a fan fare for The Reaper.
“Show your selves!” he screamed, he cried!
As now he’d lost all human pride,
Down on his knees he fell to pray,
As fast approached his judgement day.
Growing stronger in his head,
Faster filling him with dread.
More and more the faces came,
As slowly he began to name,
Faces that he had pushed aside,
Faces to whom he had lied.
“You betrayed us! – You destroyed us!
Just to force yourself above us!
Just a plaque upon your door –
That’s all you gained and nothing more!!!
“You can’t exist!” the man, he stuttered,
“I left you all down in the gutters!
I have the Devil on my side,
He’s the companion with whom I now ride!”
The leaf formed faces started rustling,
“You fool, for in the Devil trusting,
You have made your own death bed,
And bought the axe upon your head!”
Screaming now within his head,
Overflowing him with dread.
“Never! Never!” A frightened cry!
“You can’t tell me that the Devil lied!
He promised me wealth beyond conception,
You’re all just bitter from rejection!”
The knocking now once more did stop,
The man cast his eyes upon his clock,
He saw it reach ‘The Witching Hour’
And in his chair, began to cower.
The dull ring of Death was closer now,
To save his life he knew not how!
His heart was beating far to fast,
At such a rate, it couldn’t last…
He grabbed his chest, with all to fear,
The bell was all that he could now hear,
His final sight – all gowned in black…
With scythe, hung neatly, down his back.
Shrieking now within his head,
Overflowing him with dread,
Yes! Shrieking now within his head,
They sent him to his final bed.
They stood there, laughing, at his side,
Upon his coffin they did ride,
All along, within his head,
Now his last promotion saw him dead.
A plaque removed, an office bare,
A man once worked without a care,
He stepped on many, he aimed too high,
Paranoid guilt lead him to die…
And so my morbid tale is told,
About a man that lost his hold,
By using people that man soon fell,
Into the burning depths of Hell.
~ fin ~
In this day and age with some less than safe areas to deliver to, can you blame Saint Nick for swapping a reindeer powered sleigh for an SE5a armed with a .303 Lewis machine gun?
We took a walk today into Farnborough to post a letter. It’s a long trek, but the healthy option – and green! Alex walked a fair amount of the way, but his push chair was always on hand (and helpful for me as support as my back isn’t fully recovered yet).
In the main mall there was some proof that the credit crunch has not hit yet…either that, or there are some seriously stupid people out there with no idea of money and worth…but more on that later in this blog entry…
Alex had a great laugh in the shopping centre, jumping and running around like a loon! He thought Father Christmas in the aeroplane was good, but not as much fun as the hall of mirrors was!
In the passageway with all of the mirrors in, there was also a very tinny echo…which was put to maximum use by the excited screaching terror!
Now much as a shrill squeel can set a persons nerves on edge, there was something a lot worse in the mall this day… A lot, lot worse.
I couldn’t bring myself to actually photograph the full terror of what I saw, but it was enough to make Cthulhu back up in horror…
What I did take a photo of was the next level down…
Yes… Dodgy animal pictures printed onto thin shiney photo paper (cheap). This is just the start as the tacky picture is placed in a very flimsy cheap looking frame and then little plastic numbers are stuck onto it to form the dial of a clock… a cheap little AA battery clock stuck to the back of the picture is the finishing touch.
Now this may terrify you, but take a look at the price….
£25.99
Either people can see value in this cheap tat that I am missing, or there are enough idiots with zero taste out there to get the seller of this hideous crap a living wage!
Now I mentioned that there was a worse terror than this picture, and I am not kidding.
The thing worse than this was the glitter covered wolf painting with the same clock affair. One of those dodgy wolf prints you see on black t-shirts or market bought jackets but with added glitter and a Chinese tick-tock.
Pure lowest common trash… Yet people must be buying it – and that is the scariest thing of all, especially as it is likely that they have the power of the vote….
Your life, and the life of those you love is in the hands of voters who buy things like this…..
Be afraid… Be very afraid.
Sometimespace 