Rest and Peace

I just finished my summer term! It feels really good knowing I won’t have to get up and go to school for a few weeks. No more tests, no more exams, no more studying. I’m looking forward to catching up on some sleep.

Anyway, hopefully this will be prime time for me to finish off some stories I’ve left hanging. I’ve got a ghost story I’d love to have ready for Halloween, a sci-fi that’s one of my most read posts, a comedy about a ghastly hotel, and an engaging zombie adventure. Not to mention that strange dialogue I crafted the other day, or this poem I started just tonight.

Gazing into heaven, watching the falling snow,
spots of grey on white, like television static,
shifting endlessly, race their way to earth below.

Landing on her cheeks, and quickly they melt away,
flakes join the salty streams cascading down her face.
Winter’s promised freedom takes too much for its pay.

If anyone wants to, feel free to voice an opinion on which story you’d like to read more of. Also, I noticed that the email version of the Carnival was next to unreadable. I think I fixed that and will post it below.

The Carnival

The Freak:

Come here often, or is it your first time?

The Man:

(Looking around anxiously)

I know not of how I came here, good sir,
but oft to quote are the denizens here,
“See the Freak, see the Freak,” at my queries
that those queries transformed themselves thusly:
“Who’s the Freak?” but still they chant, “See the Freak.”
‘Til I say, “Where?” and direct me they here.

The Freak:

(To a stuffed parrot)
Comes to see the Freak, but not to marvel
(To the Man)
Your questions will do little to serve you.
(To the parrot)
All asked questioned that now say, “See the Freak.”

The Man:

What is that parrot you are talking to?

The Freak:

(To the Parrot)
They ask, but they do not listen to me.
(To the Man)
The Parrot is dead, like all men will be.
Alive he parroted men, though dumb beast,
repeating the phrases he overheard.
Stuffed and lifeless, though in a lifelike pose,
parrots he now only wisdom. Behold.
(To the Parrot)
Tell me all that you know, speak parrot, speak.
(To the Man)
Alive he had half of wisdom, to speak,
and dead he possesses the other half.

The man

Why do you keep for yourself this dead bird?

The Freak:

I hold out my arms and look, one be short.
See you now my face, it’s barely a man’s.
Nor belongs it happ’ly to beasts either,
for then, with them, I’d be counted no freak.
You, Man, start at this misshapen body,
prefer you not the sight of this parrot?
Don’t answer, you only have more questions.
You do prefer gazing at this red bird,
and yet, this bird is dead, while I’m alive.
So, like truth we, a pair, do show to you
what is pleasant holds little when counted,
and unpleasant truth is hard to stomach.

The Man:

Hold please, Freak, I perceive your cunning wit.
I came to ask questions, for, as you said,
I only have more questions to be asked.
Truthfully, they all have root in one fact,
and so, in airing of it, my hopes are
that you enlighten me on an issue
thereby slaying the hydra, wonderment.
But the fact cannot be stated simply,
and therefore must I now tell you a tale.

 

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