Mye: The World Elsewhere

This is a story written in the form of a poem. The rhythm and rhyme scheme of each verse denotes characters.

I shall be adding three new verses to it every weekday till it is complete.

Now relax, and enjoy the the world of Mye.

Chapter One

*The Narrator*

Our world lies before us,
A solid field of physics,
But we do have minds that must,
It seems, travel to lands mystic.

I am the Narrator,
The story teller, poet,
I have knowledge in most lore,
But e’en I shall gain much more yet.

Dreams are what we travel in,
And we shall journey freely,
With learners grin ‘pon our chin,
Through stories told completely.

Look now, good listener,
Can you see that shaking child,
Who is free from all rest here,
The Fearful Dreamer cries out, wild.

*The Fearful Dreamer*

In dreams I find no respite,
The stories told there hold no peace,
Sweating I awake from a race unsung,
My heart crusading still in lands not won.

And the world passeth away,
Deep in slumber I tumble, chained,
To fear, like a beast held in masters field,
When he comes to strike, there is no shield.

A lonely cry comes withered,
From a mouth I thought not my own,
A cry I would liken to some pained hound,
Had I known they could hold such a sound.

Ay, ay! Tear me from this place,
Pinch and shock me till I sigh deep,
“I am awake, at last I am awake”,
For I wish, this place, I could forsake.

Songs written here are weak,
Bards sing in rhythms left unused,
What I do and see when here holds no place,
And every smile hides a dying face.

*The Playful Bard*

Rhythmic strumming,
Sways the way of,
Structured song,
And round the corner rounds I,
A bard, playful as a bird,
Yet fierce in these,
That are my words.

Telling stories,
Inside tuned lines,
Tailored tales,
For audiences unheard,
Who wish a spriteful young boy,
To swell their hearts,
With words of joy.

This is my trade,
It is such that,
Plied purely,
I must travel through the lands,
And so have known many ears,
You’ll never know,
Just what one hears.

*Narrator*

Now hear this good minstrel,
Listen as he composes,
Melody of much to tell,
Built upon truth, one supposes.

*The Playful Bard*

Coming to cheer,
With charming care,
Carefully.
So I sing and say unto you,
Do smile and be smiled upon,
My audience,
And dear new friend.

Fear no dead face,
For faces fear,
No known foe.
But their respect can be earned,
Through hard graft and pleasant voice,
I am willing,
To point the way.

*Fearful Dreamer*

You call me friend so gently,
You do deceive like those Goblins,
Over by the hill, same shade as their skin,
Me, by your songs, you shall never win.

Get away from me you bard,
Whose songs pierce my hardening heart,
I wish for none of what you speak, you lie,
Speaking blessing, but wishing I die!

*The Playful Bard*

Wishing you die?!
Words wane and waste,
From rebuke,
Shrilly and fiercely spat at,
My open and helpful heart,
But take note,
I do love you.

In love I leave,
In lew of light,
That longs so,
To be spread abroad to all,
You have my prayers and my heart,
But farewell,
Fearful dreamer.

*Narrator*

I think he has done well,
This bright bard may serve an end,
He might with us one year dwell,
Wait a time while I fetch our friend.

He agrees, he agrees!
We shall be a merry band,
Seeking source of dark disease,
And travelling across this land.

Chapter Two

*Narrator*

Having our new member,
We should travel; exploring,
To see tales some remember,
Tales which many folk are storing.

Oh, what’s this? A goblin,
A mother by the way,
She walks – seems to be sobbing,
Let’s now hear what she has to say.

*The Grieving Goblin*

My mite, my mite,
My dearest little mite!
They was only seven you know!
Taken. Taken!!
They’ll be cold and full of fright,
In the cat’combs of the cave.

The witch, the witch,
That cold, dark-hearted witch!
Uses that flock of crows of hers!
Stealin’. Stealin’!
Swoopin’ and a-snatchin’ up,
Little goblin mites like mine.

The wall, the wall,
Behind you lot, the wall!
She’s heard my words and comes this way!
Fight back. Fight back!
‘Tis the only way to stop,
Her wicked, magical ways.

*Narrator*

Smoke shadows on the wall,
A pipe releases it’s fumes,
Viewing time’s taken by all,
And crowds gather towards what looms.

Darkness builds in mortar,
Expanding bricks till they fall,
Tumbling down, causing slaughter,
Fissure laughs loud as goblins crawl.

Grasping what comes to hand,
They throw it at the black wall,
It does nought, but turn to sand,
As the darkness devours it all.

A form takes precedence,
Human, yet terribly so,
Drinking joy as sustenance,
Around it a light begins to glow.

With feathers of the night,
Dark steps forward in a shape,
Bringing wings to her side, tight,
Here is a woman with a cape.

And a staff in clawed hands,
Studded with talons and beaks,
To command magics and lands,
We should leave now before she speaks.

*Dark Crow Shaman*

Hearing rumours,
I came quickly,
Hearing humour,
I grew sickly,
And banished those,
Who danced in prose.

Mewling critters,
Lost in their way,
Howling litters,
I curse this day,
Cornix neco,
Et incanto.

*Narrator*

Fear is ours, companions,
But up, stand, protect the weak,
Won’t be long till carrion,
Come squawking and pecking with beaks.

Forget their heavy bags,
We all must be fleet of foot,
To cross North Bridge over crags,
Come! Or we’ll soon be Shaman’s soot!

Crows are flying over,
That cursed witch has spun her spell,
They’ll catch us without cover,
Oh hark! Now hear the crow’s death knell.

*The Playful Bard*

Round a ragged,
Rock, and run right.
Risk or rue.
There is surely a safe cavern,
Somewhere up ahead of us,
There, there, dive through,
Dive through, and hush.

Black birds and beaks,
Blow by bodies,
Between heads.
Duck down low and cover your eyes,
Flee deep inside the cave now,
Past the torches,
Keep on moving.

*Dark Crow Shaman*

Keep running in,
I have no qualm,
Dangers begin,
With cutthroat calm,
And loos’ning hold,
On hands half cold.

Heed my warning,
Come out sisters,
And friends, be safe.
(Now I whisper),
Crows, go fly on,
The spell’s woven.

*The Playful Bard*

Leaving: our last,
Ludicrously,
Lost-cause act.
Fear not; says He, and we should heed,
One who was so blessed and high.
Come now with me,
Do not heed her.

*Narrator*

The bard speaks truthfully,
Listen to her as a wind,
Passing over us coldly,
With wicked clouds coming behind.

Deeper and deeper in,
Flee crows gath’ring at the mouth,
Which, as we run, seems to smile,
And torches dim toward the south.

This pace we shall hold to,
If we wish to reach safety,
We must fly as the crows do,
(I say this ironically).

*The Playful Bard*

Quintessential,
Quiet questing,
Querying:
My dear brother, friend, Narrator,
Could we take this left passage?
It seems to me,
A secret one.

Secret speaks safe,
Sound, and secure.
So, shall we?
If we do not, we could not march,
Forward into rising dark.
We would fall foul,
Of evil crows.

*Narrator*

Clearly you are correct,
We would be wise to avoid,
Giving chance to intercept,
Or having our lives become void.

Go! Into that passage!
Behind us flicker last lights,
As Shaman’s magic persuades,
And robs us of our rear-view sight.

Footsteps echo off walls,
Which seem dug out by brave hands,
Quite recent, judging by all,
The aching earth which does expand.

I’ve an encroaching fear,
That this cave’s to be our tomb.
See the cracks that, forming here,
Threaten us with impending doom.

Quick! Flee the racing stripes,
That surge overhead in haste,
Wishing to tumble and wipe,
Us out and make us into paste.

We have fled, and flown well,
Not dwindling towards the end,
But now I feel I must tell,
The price we are about to spend.

The passage we have left,
Had familiar scratches,
From the time when it was cleft,
This mother knows whose claws it matches.

*The Grieving Goblin*

My mite! My mite!
My dearest little mite!
These marks are surely his, I know!
Hasten. Hasten!
Towards our captured children,
We must help those young ones!

*The Narrator*

We must remain cautious,
These marks match his claws, and yet,
The size there makes me nauseous,
How large he’s grown, how large he’ll get.

Chapter Three

*The Narrator*

We sleep here for a night,
Though there is no moon to tell,
The time, nor to shed some light,
Over this, our cavernous shell.

Though the rest of our band,
Lay their heads in deep slumber,
The Goblins misunderstand;
We’re too late to save their number.

Can’t you feel the red eyes?
Watching us from their dark shade,
They wait for us all to lie,
Then they can descend in cascades.

They are what is now left,
Yes, of all the Goblin mites,
Poor things, they’ve been made bereft,
Losing youth to the darkest nights.

*The Playful Bard*

Overhearing,
Oration on,
Our others,
I left my bed and came quickly,
Quietly and thankfully;
For Goblins rest,
In deep slumber.

Speak simply so,
Slow receiver,
Understands.
You say the Goblin mites are large,
Outgrowing natural plan?
Caused by magic,
Or by diet?

*Narrator*

Caused by twisted magic,
Fated to grow into beasts,
Snaggled teeth and claws that grip,
Stretching legs, blood eyes, arms that reach.

It was a spell from her,
That forced the change upon them,
It caused their young minds to stir,
Into hate and wish to condemn.

The egg-yolk-brains were whisked,
Beaten with her darkened truths,
And, with dirt filled lies, were kissed,
All were seduced to evil youths.

*The Playful Bard*

Is blaming blessed,
By breaking down,
Bad workings?
Do you, Narrator, blame the babes,
For what has happened round them?
Is this your view?
Do you fall low?

*Narrator*

They are only to blame,
For choices they made alone,
The magic they could not tame,
But willingness remained their own.

Seeking a place on Earth,
What was found was so much less,
Underground to dwell in dearth,
To be eternally unblessed.

Making mechanised thought,
Flow through their corrupted minds,
That Shaman (without a doubt),
Has an army viciously lined.

*The Playful Bard*

Shall we stand still,
And stay sleeping,
Surrounded?
It does not seem too wise to me,
To wait while the beasts move close.
Rather, up and,
Fight for our lives!

*The Narrator*

No friend, not at this time.
Patience through the dark walkways,
Until we see the light shine,
Then we’ll fight to see the sun’s rays!

So be aware for my,
Signal of our driving rush.
You shall soon see reasons why,
I am asking for present hush.

Now, I must whisper, for,
Above us hangs a Goblin.
He strains to hear our plans, or,
A chance to overrun his kin.

Back, back, back, go to bed,
Rest. In a few hours we stand,
And have our last walk ahead.
In this dark we should link our hands.

Chapter Four

*The Narrator*

Our band awakes in darkness,
In terror we scramble round,
A scratch of flint here contests,
And lights our enclosed underground.

The cavern around us,
It has changed its posturing,
Walls slant inward, growing moss,
And far away a voice stirring.

We cannot make it out,
But it twinkles in a rush,
A bursting beautiful spout,
Touching on the edge of the hush.

*The Playful Bard*

Voice vocalised,
Varies vaguely.
Vixens! No…
Sirens! That soul shivering name.
They’ll call us to home and tear,
Us from our flesh.
What a terror.

Retreat! Return!
Race from ruin!
Really run!
I make no jest as to our plight,
We could be dead within hours.
Heed my warning,
Please, my good friends.

*Narrator*

Your warning’s a clear one,
We will consider our choice.
Stop, make camp, wait till it’s gone,
Or continue towards the voice.

One thing further to say:
Be aware, you’ll be tested,
Pushed with force more than you weigh,
I fear this mayn’t be contested.

Time for talking is done,
Now the whole group gathers round,
The Bard is their spokesperson,
The trumpet is not his he sounds.

*The Playful Bard*
We wanderers,
We have walked far.
We won’t wait.
This is our choice. Why should we wait?
Have we walked so far to stop?
We carry on,
To save our babes.

*Narrator*

Our friend is not playful,
His tune is forlorn and low,
Faith and hope would be useful,
Come, take the seed and let us sow.

Bard, our friend, listen close,
This choice was not ours to make,
That should not leave us morose,
Let us have what is there to take.

Times rise and fall like waves,
But all is within a plan,
Not our own, never ours to have,
Thank goodness, else it would just wain.

Remember where faith lies,
Or rather in whom it is,
We all are kept, long as cries,
Go to him and not unto his.

*The Playful Bard*

Calm and comfort,
Me carefully.
I am crushed.
But yes, I know you are correct.
I have no doubts as to faith,
I only wish,
I could feel it.

Feel it fully.
Feel a deep faith,
Free from fault.
Oh! To have your own perfect faith!
To be as you are, my friend:
Faltering not,
Faithful through time.

Tragic turmoil,
Turns tomorrow,
To tight time.
I fear that this, my current state,
Shall spiral our journey down.
Down to terror,
And to ruin.

*The Narrator*

My dear friend, keep a smile,
And keep your eyes turned upward,
The walk we’ll make lasts a mile,
So we shall need your brightest mood!

Now come forward! March on!
Resplendent in spiritual,
Armour wrought in faith and honed,
By a power true and actual.

*The Goblin’s King*

Not wishing to disrupt your walk,
But look at my head. Do you see?
There is a crown. So stop your talk.
None here gave you the right to be
Commanding, and posing so grand,
As if from some conquering land.

Discard! Your high, solo thoughts.
Discard! And discuss with us.
Tell, the decisions you’ve wrought,
And how you shall work them thus.
We want our little ones back,
So, we’ll discover that track.

*Narrator*

Then please, join our council.
We’ll share our considerings
Between us. And so instil
Direction to our Goblin ring.

Is it true you desire
To pursue the path forward,
Past the sirens whom conspire
To perfect their songs of discord?

*The Goblin’s King*

Oh yes, indeed. Ah yes, well
We want our young, so we must.
Are there two ways? I can’t tell.
You know where we are I trust?
It is a decision rife
With difficulty and life.

*The Playful Bard*

Good goblin, friend,
Guiding’s gruelling –
Guaranteed.
Do not flee from this council now.
Stand and voice your people.
Who else does so?
They need you.

*Narrator*

Agreed, musical friend.
It is a thousand times right
To keep counsel to this end.
Stay, king, give us Goblin insight.

*The Goblin’s King*

Your welcome, it is moving
And unexpected. I’ll stay.
Understand, we are loving:
We care for each lost baby.
This is our sole purpose here.
I want to know if that’s clear?

*Narrator*

Clearer even than some
Would claim a fresh-spring pool is.
We see your viewpoint, now come!
The road calls. To those singing fish!

Chapter Five

*Sirens One, Two, and Three*

Oh, my kings! Oh my, kings! Oh! My! Kings!
For you, for you, for you, we shall sing!
Listen, listen, listen! Hear notes ring.

*Narrator*

Cover your exposed ears.
Talk and sing and pray out loud!
But not in reply. For fears
Of a captured soul from our crowd.

*Sirens One, Two, and Three*

Goblins, come. Goblins come. Goblins come!
We’ll share some, we will share, we’ll share some
Songs we done, that we done, we did done.

*Narrator*

Ignore all their lyrics.
They repeat their useless lies.
I have heard they are mimics.
They’re uncreative in their cries.

*Sirens One, Two, and Three*

Darling bard. Darling, bard. Darling! Bard!
Hear this song, our dearest, listen hard.
It’s for you, come closer by one yard.

*The Playful Bard*

Sweet sirens, sing!
Sing sister notes.
Stirring sound!
Take me to your ocean’s warm depths,
And let me rest from this world
In on-flowing
Songs, sung by you.

*Narrator*

Pity the Playful Bard!
Those four share, each, skills the same.
Never has so strong a card
Been played in enticement’s long game.

*The Goblin King*

I say fear not for this man!
There is told one way of old
To build a bridge that can span
This gulf of song he’s been sold.
I am simple, but keep faith.
Now I must speak with great haste:

To save a soul from singers
You must approach the smitten.
Notice the ears where clingers
Remove defence, then sit and
Deepen their burrows inside
So remonstration subsides.

Standing by the hypnotised –
Hold faith- you flick both their ears,
Touch their tongue – no compromise.
Now, putting aside your fears,
Drive your pointed elbow deep
Into that soul’s heart which sleeps.

*Narrator*

We must be quick to act
When working to save a soul.
Say a prayer – matter of fact.
Come, help me the Bard to control!

*The Playful Bard*

Sing, Sirens, sing sweetly!
Steep my soul in
Sultry tones.
I will not writhe, I will not roll,
I never wish to leave! This!
Oh, this! Soothes my
Wounded being.

*Narrator*

We march up to our Bard
And carefully flick his ears.
He reacts raucously hard!
We pray and remove all our fears.

Next! Open his mouth wide!
Hold him, I’ll try to touch tongue.
He bites with my hand inside.
The blood drips where Sirens have sung.

*Sirens One, Two, and Three*

Smell the blood? Smell; the blood. Smell the blood?!
Sisters let’s feast! Turn him in to cud.
Who’s escaped us? Do you think you could?

*Narrator*

The beastly beauties rush.
I sharply drive my elbow
Deep into my friend to crush
Any final residue.

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