Poetry Post: Screwed Up

We all say we’re screwed up……

But we’re not……

We’re Human……

The light and the darkness…….

Eat at us all……..

All we can do……is

Accept that.

The darkness…..burns as much

As the light

There is nothing to fear…..

You are yourself…….

Do you fear yourself?

My brain works in weird ways and sometimes it gets philisophically poetic. I do not know where this came from, excelt that it formed one night while i was walking home from visiting one of my closest friends. I muse sometimes on the strange nature of people. How we’re told that we have to be cheerful, happy and ‘well-balanced’ to be normal. I have never been any of those things for extended periods of time. I have melancholic tendancies (it’s a family thing – the number of my relatives I have who are on anti-depressants outnumber the ones who aren’t). This being the case, my mind often produces poems on the nature of being human, half formed specks of thought, which never really get past the notebooks, or properly worked on. This one I have only arranged in to this form because it felt like a conversation being held in my head when it formed. It may get worked on at a later date.

Something I’ve been working on

Okay I haven’t done much writing recently, a little poetry now and then, work has been getting in the way. But, I was rooting around in some of my old work and decided to start playing with this peice. It was inspired by a print called Winter Rose I saw. My brain went ‘hmm, I wander where she’s going with her dog?’ And then I started to write…….

A regency fairy-tale 1

‘Eleanor, my dear, where are you walking to in such dreadful weather?’

The sharp voice interrupted Eleanor’s reverie, ‘Oh not her’, she thought as

she recognised the woman hailing her from the carriage. Lady Elizabeth

Whitwood, the local gossip and arbiter of good taste.

‘Alfie must have his exercise, Lady Whitwood. The snow is barely an inch

thick on the road, I’ll take no harm from that.’

Hopefully if her answers were succinct enough the impertinent woman

would go on quickly and allow her to get on with her task without much

delay.

‘Oh but surely your servants can do that. I never allow Louisa to exercise

Hermione, Brookes always exercises our hounds. I’m certain your mother

would not have approved.’

‘Our men are busy preparing the Hall for tonight’s festivities.’

‘Well, if you need to borrow one or two I’d be only to pleased to lend you any

I have spare.’

‘No, thank you, Lady Whitwood, we can manage.’

‘Go away tedious women’, thought Eleanor, ‘They’ll be waiting for me now.’

‘Well if you’re sure, I’ll see you this evening. Don’t catch cold dear, it

wouldn’t do for the hostess to be coughing and wheezing all over her guests.’

‘Yes, Lady Elizabeth, I’ll see you this evening.’

Relief washed over Eleanor as Lady Elizabeth’s carriage drove on.

‘Hurry, Alfie,’ she told her Collie dog, ‘we have places to be.’

The young woman hurried along the lane until she came to a gap in the

hawthorn hedge that bordered the road. After checking the road was

deserted she ducked under the elder tree that guarded the entrance to

Elfhome.

That’s all I’ve got so far, I’m not sure what will be happening next. I think the dog might not necessarily be a dog…..

Lazy Writer

I have been terribly lazy in the past few weeks; I have hardly written at all. I just haven’t felt like doing anything.
Actually thats not true. I have been writing, but nothing anyone but a few friends get to read. I may have had a temporary sojourn writing fanfic. I have fun doing this, and my friends enjoy it, but no one else gets to read it.

I have ideas for plots but struggle to get very far with them. I’ve been through all the short stories and chapters I’ve written in the last year, and i don’t really like any of it. I need to really have a proper bash at it.

I’ve had an idea for some articles, about the history of embroidery in different countries but i can’t decide whether to write them for http://www.Suite101.com or try to sell them to magazines. I suppose i could write a simple article for the internet and a more indepth one for a print magazine….. Hmmm, I’m going now, i have things to muse on. I think i’ve got my mojo back. It”s amazing what scribbling down thoughts will do.

Until next time

R

NaNoWriMo part 2

I started well. I had an idea, it developed over a few days and i think it could be quite good. I managed to find the time to make notes and then write them up in to a coherent narrative. I have a note book with different ‘scenes’ in, but i haven’t actually managed to get very far with the novel.

I managed 1000 words a day for the first week then got distracted writing short stories for a group of friends and haven’t got back in to my novel. As well as that, i feel that its a bit uninspired and i’m really struggling to maintain any momentum.

I’m going to keep bashing away at it and hopefully make something useful out of the work i’ve done so far.

 

National Novel Writing Month – Hmm, might give it a go

National Novel Writing Month starts in November.

 The object of NaNoWriMo, as I understand it, is to try to write what is essencially the first draft (50,000 words) of a novel in a month and then upload it to the website. I first read about NaNoWriMo earlier in the year in one of the writing magazines I get regularly. It looks like fun, I think i’m going to haev a go at it this year.

 I have a tendancy to edit as I go along so I think it could be an interesting exercise in just getting the initial story down on paper, and then tidying it up when November’s over. Since I also struggle to finish novels (but not short stories once i get going) it might help me get past that problem as well.

Happy writing

Rosemarie

Book Review: Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch

‘Rivers of London’ is the first of two books (currently available) detailing the adventures of Detective Constable Peter Grant of the Met, and last Apprentice Wizard in Britain.

In ‘Rivers of London’ we are introduced to Peter Grant, a probationary constable in the Metropolitan Police. At the scene of a murder he tries to take a witness statement from a ghost and thus comes to the attention of the last official Wizard in Britian, Nightingale. Nightingale is the head, and only member,  of a specialist crime unit known as ‘the Folly’, about whom most police officers have no knowledge, and the ones who do know about it don’t like talking about the Folly. Constable Grant becomes the second member of the Folly and an apprentice wizard. Between solving a series of supernatural murders and settling a territorial debate between the genii loca of the Thames and the Thames  valley/London rivers, the Folly are stretched to capactity. Covent Garden gets set on fire and flooded, Punch causes a riot in the Royal Opera House and eventually a sacrifice has to be made.

With a cast of well written, funny and occaisionally creepy characters this novel races around London giving a new twist to old tales. The central character is well drawn, heavily embedded in the location and very ‘real’. Constable Grant’s struggle’s to learn a vast body of arcane knowledge and match his scientific understanding of the world to that of magic is entertaining. Especially the exploding apples.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and can’t wait to read the next one, ‘Moon over Soho’.

The Brazen Horde Part two

Quick recap – Hibalt and Tobold have been invited to attend an interview for a place in the Brazen Horde by its famous leader Gorgo the Terrible. After witnessing a punch-up between a horde member and another interviewee they finally get to meet the great man himself. They have just been invited to take a seat.

Tobold sat down, and down, and down. The stool was so low all that could be seen of him was his greasy mop of hair. Hibalt lowered himself gingerly on to his stool and found that it wobbled slightly if he sat too heavily on the back leg; the stool had only three. It reminded him of the milking stool his mother had had, until Hibalt’s father used it to break someone’s head open during a brawl at their tavern.
‘This is a very impressive application, did you write it yourself?’
Tobold wasn’t sure to whom Gorgo’s question was directed, so he answered it anyway,
‘No, we found a scribe to fill it in for us both.’
‘And we didn’t pay him.’ Hibalt added by way of clarification; it wouldn’t do for Gorgo to think they were so polite, even if they had apologised after they had slightly roughed the scribe up.
‘Very good. As you are, I am sure, aware, here at the Brazen Horde we have a policy of community involvement, and we are an equal oppurtunities employer. The mission statement of the Horde is to provide a valuable service to community, by removing evil kings, mad sorcerors and the like from power, and substituting enlightened government by barbarism. We have branches in all major city states and empires, and our employees are afforded many oppurtunities to travel and develop they’re own interests. How do you feel you would, if offered a position here, cope with joining sure a large organisation?’
Hibalt had already decided that he would do the talking,
‘Well, Sir, as we have shown on our application, we have been part of large organistions before. Last year we spent three months with the Gurner’s, and they number three hundred at least. I think we would settle well in such a large and well organised horde as yours.’
‘Why did you leave the Gurner’s?’ The man who had shown Hibalt and Tobold in asked from behind them.
Hibalt jumped and fell from his seat. In this ungainly position, that is flat on his back in the floor with his legs waving in the air, he answered the man.
‘We weren’t very good at pulling faces when we attacked people.’
‘Ahh, I see, well, I’ll add ‘differences with management’ to the reason for leaving section of the application form.’
‘Thanks, we couldn’t decide how to phrase it properly, so we left that bit out.’
‘How do you feel about the extensive travel required of anyone who gains a position with this horde?’
Gorgo brought the interview back on track.
‘I’m looking forward to it.’ Tobold answered so that Hibalt had time to get back on his stool, ‘ We’ve never really been away from the Ider and the country ’round it. It’ll be fun.’
‘Why don’t you tell us a little about yourselves, how did you come to be barbarians?’
‘My dad was one,’ Tobold’s voice floated up to Gorgo, ‘He was a freelance and I followed him in to the family business. I was apprenticed to my uncle Ned for ten years and then i met up with Hibalt at a convention for newly trained barbarians. We decided to give it a go as a partnership, and we’ve worked together ever since. Thjat was about fifteen years ago.’
‘And have you never wanted to be anything else?’
‘Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be a farmer or something, but then I think wouldn’t it be boring staying in the same place all the time and stop wandering. It’s a family tradition, i couldn’t really see myself as anything but a barbarian.’
‘What about you Hibalt?’
Hibalt was now firmly settled back in his seat. Dusting off his jacket and smoothing his hair, Hibalt replied,
‘My father had a tavern in Iderford, the Green Dragon, we got all the best barbarians in there when I was a kid. I would listen for hours to them talking about their adventures. i was apprenticed to Black Hand Alf at the age of seven and have been a barbarian ever since.’
‘Lifers then, both of you. Just the sort we need. We’ve had a lot of youngsters apply for the job, enamoured by the legends and adventure.’
‘Young people these days, they have no concept of the hardship involved. But they learn quickly enough, I’m sure we all did.’
‘Very true Hibalt, very true. Experience and wisdom are valuable assets in this sort of organisation. But youth has its advantages; which of us now could ride for three days, fight a battle and then rescue and ravish a princess? I know I don’t have the energy any more.’
‘Oh yes, well I never was much for ravishing , I’ve always prefered theiving.’
‘Really Tobold? You’ve never said anything before.’
‘Well, you were enjoying yourself so much, it didn’t seem fair to spoil your fun.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Now gents, are there any questions you would like to ask us?’
‘Yes, do you supply accoomodation or do we have to bring our own?’
‘Afraid you have to provide your own.’
‘Is this a saleried position, weekly paid or profit share?’
‘Profit share, and we provide food as well. Although we expect Horde member’s to suppliment their incomes with private ventures these must not conflict with any and all work for the Horde.’
‘Excellent.’
‘Do you have any more question?’
‘No, none that I can think of. Tobold?’
‘Nope.’
‘Well, in that case I’ll round up shall I? I’m sure you have things you wish to do. We have several more applicants to interview and then we will deliberate but if you are successful a messenger will be sent to find you by next friday at the latest. Good bye gentlemen.’
Tobold and Hibalt scrambled from their seats to shake hands again with Gorgo and his assistant before scuttling out of the yurt in to the afternoon sunlight.
As they strolled away with false purpose Hibalt heard Gorgo’s assistant call ‘Next’ then turned to Tobold,
‘Well that could have gone worse.’
‘How?’
‘We could have both fallen off our seats.’

They still hadn’t heard back a month later so they gave up on the Brazen Horde and decided to head in to the north for a holiday. Apparently the Northern Kingdoms were very nice in summer.

And just as soon as I decide what they are going to get up to the Tobold and Hibalt will be back.

Tobold and Hibalt are back for another adventure

Okay, I’ve had internet issues so I haven’t had a chance to update anything recently, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing. I got a little bored the other day and I’ve come up with a few more adventures for my incompetent barbarians. So today’s post is the first part of their latest adventure.

Borderlands: The Brazen Horde Part 1

 ‘Stop pacing. We need to project confidence, or we won’t get the job,’ Tobold glared at Hibalt, ‘Don’t look so nervous, it’ll be fine.’

‘Nervous, who’s nervous? I’m not nervous. Are you nervous?’ Hibalt tried to do as he was told and ‘project confidence’ in his demeanour, but failed miserably.

 ‘No, you fool, I’m bored silly.’ ‘Do you think we’ll have to wait much longer?’ ‘How should I know? Why don’t you stare at the clouds like you usually do, and shut up?’

 ‘Ha, I like that! There aren’t any clouds to stare at.’

 The pair returned to slouching against the brass clad wall of the yurt. They’d been waiting in the ever diminishing queue since dawn and had finally reached the front. With nothing else to do they waited and watched the Brazen Horde (‘Now Recruiting! Don’t Miss YOUR Chance to join OUR Team!) stir in to life. Waiting with them under the broiling noon sun was a young man fresh from his Steppe tribe and searching for his first position. Thoroughly bored Tobold scrutinised his impassive, and impressive, features, checking out, for the millionth time, their competition. ‘The shiny armour is good, very professional looking, he might look good in a parade; wish my armour was like that, the breast-plate hasn’t got a single dent and I can’t see even a dot of rust, he must spend hours with the sand and polish; I should steal myself a set like that.’

Tobold chuntered on in this way for some time; meanwhile Hibalt was observing the man he considered to be the real threat – a weasel faced fellow with greasier-than-the-average-barbarian hair. He reminded Hibalt of a wet sewer rat, even down to the stink and slight skin disorder. He also looked familiar; Hibalt wandered, ‘had they been in the same tavern brawl? Nice sword though, whoever he was’. Being of a slightly philosophical disposition Hibalt decided that he couldn’t be bothered to worry about it and returned to staring at the empty sky. With nothing else left to think off he contemplated the twists of fate that had brought him to the door of Gorgo the Terrible, a legend among barbarians.

Joining the Brazen Horde had always been his dream; they were the best and didn’t often allow new members to join. Spotting the poster, and finding someone to read it to them, in the Blue Dragon (Voted Top Tavern by ‘Barbarian Magazine’ for five years in a row! Don’t miss Friday Free For All!) had been a stroke of luck.

Sometime after this, as the sun started to push long shadows across the ground a rather large individual wandered across to the group, travelling in a rather irregular manner as he bounced from yurt to tent to shack. He had the pained face of one who desperately need to relieve himself but couldn’t find the privy. Unfortunately he happened to bounce from the disk covered yurt in to the young man and then in to the weasel fellow. At this point he gave up, lifted his kilt and emptied his bladder all over his last bouncee.

‘Here we go,’ Hibalt thought, ‘Nice punch up, just the thing to relieve boredom. And that one might just get pushed off the interview list.’

The weasel man, somewhat irritated by being kept waiting and then urinated upon, drew his knife and stepped towards the immediate source of his irritation in an effort to protect himself from further drenching. The gentleman concerned blinked rapidly as the expression of profound relief vanished and he realised he was being attacked. Tobold and Hibalt looked on in amazement as the dullard leaned in to his attacker and walloped the knife away. The weasel screeched and the shook his arm, it had gone numb. He desperately backed away from his attacker, searching for another weapon as his attacker advanced. The weasel eventually backed in to Tobold, who grabbed him. 

Hibalt had decided that they should get involved but since the fight had come to them, prehaps they should try to restore order; it might impress Gorgo the Terrible, which was the most important thing to achieve that day. Duly reaching his decision, Hibalt stepped smartly between the weasel and the dolt and tried to calm matters, in the approved manner of all barbarians – he smacked the weasel in the chops and sent him crashing to the floor, or would have if Tobold hadn’t been holding the fellow upright.

‘Problem solved, sir, and who would you be?’

‘I’m Harmen the Brave. Have you heard of me?’

‘No, ‘fraid not. Should we have done?’

‘I’m in a famous ballad, I am. The Lay of Gorgo The Great.’

‘Oh, no I’ve not heard that one. Is it new?’

‘It’s been doing the rounds for five years now. How can you not have heard it?’

‘I have, it’s very good, full of excitement and adventure.’ Piped up the youthful Steppe nomad.

‘And who are you, young man?’ Harmen asked, though he couldn’t have been more that five years older.

‘I’m Cylus. I haven’t got a ‘the Such and Such’ yet. My mum says you have to earn that bit.’

‘How pleasant to meet you Cylus, I’m sure you’ll get your moniker soon, you look the type.’ Hibalt scratched and looked at the unconscious fellow, still being held up by Tobold, ‘And does anyone know who this is?’

‘Snitch the Thief. Please deposit him there.’ A new voice joined the conversation. They all looked round to the yurt door before Harmen scurried away. Tobold dropped Snitch in an ungainly lump as Hibalt and Cylus scrambled back in to the queue.

‘Who’s next please?’ The man scanned his list, neatly pinned to a piece of wood by a small knife.

‘That would be us, Sir.’ It wouldn’t harm their chances to be polite, Hibalt thought.

‘Ah yes, Tobold and Hibalt. Please come this way.’

They followed him in to the yurt and looked around the dim interior which was lit only by a single oil lamp. The air was smokey and rank with the smell of sweat, stale alcohol and confined bodies. In the gloom stood a great figure, half hidden by an elaborate desk. The figure stepped forward in to the lamp light, removed the equally elaborate headdress and cloak and put out his hand to them.

‘Gentlemen, good of you to come. Do take a stool.’ The man, who could only have been Gorgo, shook their hands and indicated that the make use of the conveniently placed, and rather low stools.

End of Part One

Hope you liked that, part two will be here soon, provided I don’t have any more internet access problems. Any feedback would be helpful.