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Do you remember the tales told to you as a child by your elders? Perhaps fables or mythology native to your region or country of origin? Take fragments of those stories to incorporate into an updated or new story (or poem!) of your own. Tag me, if you wish. #clevermonkeytales
Written by Confusheyusss in portal Fantasy

Mythology Sucks!!

Pedagogy of life, elders believed

Was portrayed in tales of mythology

The only condition applied was that

I couldn’t question any part of it

As it showed my lack of faith

In our religion and how we came to be

So to placate my curiosity

I took it upon myself; foolish

Because then the questions

Never seemed to cease

Also, what I read was so utterly

Different from what I witnessed

Deceit, we were told is wrong

Then why pray to Lord Krishna?

He is, after all, an expert in

Grey reality and twisting truth

To the benefit of his counterparts

Also, I never understood the paradox

Between treatment of men and women

In mythology. How sexist of them, really!

Absurdity of a woman being married off

To five brothers for the ludicrous reason

That anything and everything presented

Had to be shared equally among them!

As if, it wasn’t enough of irrationality

Treating her as a possession they gave up

In a losing gamble for fair division of

Kingdoms, and to soothe fragile egos

One of the most unrealistic male

Portrait, Lord Rama, a saint in every way

Didn’t fare any better when it came to women

He did rescue his wife from so called

Evil emperor Ravana who abducted her

Upon return to his kingdom, though

Just to avoid a public scandal, to appease

She had to prove her unmarred character

She had to prove that she was untainted

Untouched by another man; and so

She had to sit through an ordeal of fire

And come out alive to ascertain

Her purity, her fidelity to Lord Rama

Even then, she was exiled to wilderness

While pregnant; does it make sense?

I don’t even want to mention the trend of

Polygamy among the supposed Gods

Dare you mention it today as an option!

Oh the uproar will cause a riot, definitely.

Well, by the time I had read all these

My interest in mythology was long lost

What did it teach me? A lot, actually.

There is no constant scripture, it changes

But the blind belief of people endures

Which is reflective in today’s society

Unfortunately, too innately ingrained

Established deep in the psyche

I am happy to report, though

I have not stopped questioning

Before believing, before following

NOTE:  This is a personal opinion, not the complete mythology. Kindly, do not form any negative notions without proper knowledge. Also, who are aware of Hindu Mythology and have read it, please don't be offended. I know it teaches positive things too. But, I find that too many things are wrong with how it has been portrayed and exemplified in our society. So, seeing that this is my opinion, it doesn't reflect badly on anyone's belief in religion or God. I respect your faith and opinion, all I ask in return is you grant me the same respect. 

Thank you, kindly

Confusheyusss 

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Do you remember the tales told to you as a child by your elders? Perhaps fables or mythology native to your region or country of origin? Take fragments of those stories to incorporate into an updated or new story (or poem!) of your own. Tag me, if you wish. #clevermonkeytales
Written by Confusheyusss in portal Fantasy
Mythology Sucks!!
Pedagogy of life, elders believed
Was portrayed in tales of mythology
The only condition applied was that
I couldn’t question any part of it
As it showed my lack of faith
In our religion and how we came to be
So to placate my curiosity
I took it upon myself; foolish
Because then the questions
Never seemed to cease
Also, what I read was so utterly
Different from what I witnessed
Deceit, we were told is wrong
Then why pray to Lord Krishna?
He is, after all, an expert in
Grey reality and twisting truth
To the benefit of his counterparts
Also, I never understood the paradox
Between treatment of men and women
In mythology. How sexist of them, really!
Absurdity of a woman being married off
To five brothers for the ludicrous reason
That anything and everything presented
Had to be shared equally among them!
As if, it wasn’t enough of irrationality
Treating her as a possession they gave up
In a losing gamble for fair division of
Kingdoms, and to soothe fragile egos
One of the most unrealistic male
Portrait, Lord Rama, a saint in every way
Didn’t fare any better when it came to women
He did rescue his wife from so called
Evil emperor Ravana who abducted her
Upon return to his kingdom, though
Just to avoid a public scandal, to appease
She had to prove her unmarred character
She had to prove that she was untainted
Untouched by another man; and so
She had to sit through an ordeal of fire
And come out alive to ascertain
Her purity, her fidelity to Lord Rama
Even then, she was exiled to wilderness
While pregnant; does it make sense?
I don’t even want to mention the trend of
Polygamy among the supposed Gods
Dare you mention it today as an option!
Oh the uproar will cause a riot, definitely.
Well, by the time I had read all these
My interest in mythology was long lost
What did it teach me? A lot, actually.
There is no constant scripture, it changes
But the blind belief of people endures
Which is reflective in today’s society
Unfortunately, too innately ingrained
Established deep in the psyche
I am happy to report, though
I have not stopped questioning
Before believing, before following


NOTE:  This is a personal opinion, not the complete mythology. Kindly, do not form any negative notions without proper knowledge. Also, who are aware of Hindu Mythology and have read it, please don't be offended. I know it teaches positive things too. But, I find that too many things are wrong with how it has been portrayed and exemplified in our society. So, seeing that this is my opinion, it doesn't reflect badly on anyone's belief in religion or God. I respect your faith and opinion, all I ask in return is you grant me the same respect. 

Thank you, kindly
Confusheyusss 
#poetry  #culture  #mythology  #NotMeantToOffense  #PersonalOpinion 
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Written by Octavian in portal Fantasy

A dance of strangers

Morning rays crimsoned akin to twilight skies

the waters gleamed a multicolored spectrum

she stood against a pillar and caught his figure

set adrift in shivering ripples of clear cold water

and beneath this aqueduct, she always felt precious

perhaps it was sunshine resting on her skin

dream or reality, divinely, a veil of misfortunes lifted

everything on vast empty vista thus transformed

dead roses woke in her cold clammy hands

a bourbon rose fraught with dew and sweet odors

his soft fingers found hers; he, a man worthy of all trouble

they danced amongst knots of tussock to Calvary

her craving heart could not be sated to the full

a searing glory, fiery love she did, indeed, receive

she danced with a stranger till another day dawned

hither and thither amongst pillars, the breeze a bard

but soon it was all silent, unwieldy silent

and adrift shivering ripples of water so clear

she caught a glimpse of him calm and dignified

in her hands, dead roses laid dead, and happiness

O' happiness... so illusory a notion, so illusory!

sunshine found her drifting farther and farther from her manufactured bliss

water gleamed a multicolored spectrum with a lugubrious panorama

a spectrum derived from his bent and half-sunken body

and her pride withered into shame, -shame and agony

raw were her eyes from wailing and bereavement 

she had come here three days since, and now 

morning rays had crimsoned akin to twilight skies

like the sudden outburst that brought about this conclusion, the sun burst out of the horizon

and caught her here, oblivious of all precise details 

her heart was so heavy, oh God, so heavy

he left her with child and a deadly disease

but he... he was worthy of all the trouble

and as she danced beneath the aqueduct

knowing that this picturesque scenery will cure her throbs

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Written by Octavian in portal Fantasy
A dance of strangers
Morning rays crimsoned akin to twilight skies
the waters gleamed a multicolored spectrum
she stood against a pillar and caught his figure
set adrift in shivering ripples of clear cold water
and beneath this aqueduct, she always felt precious
perhaps it was sunshine resting on her skin

dream or reality, divinely, a veil of misfortunes lifted

everything on vast empty vista thus transformed
dead roses woke in her cold clammy hands
a bourbon rose fraught with dew and sweet odors

his soft fingers found hers; he, a man worthy of all trouble

they danced amongst knots of tussock to Calvary
her craving heart could not be sated to the full
a searing glory, fiery love she did, indeed, receive
she danced with a stranger till another day dawned
hither and thither amongst pillars, the breeze a bard

but soon it was all silent, unwieldy silent
and adrift shivering ripples of water so clear
she caught a glimpse of him calm and dignified
in her hands, dead roses laid dead, and happiness
O' happiness... so illusory a notion, so illusory!
sunshine found her drifting farther and farther from her manufactured bliss

water gleamed a multicolored spectrum with a lugubrious panorama
a spectrum derived from his bent and half-sunken body
and her pride withered into shame, -shame and agony

raw were her eyes from wailing and bereavement 
she had come here three days since, and now 
morning rays had crimsoned akin to twilight skies
like the sudden outburst that brought about this conclusion, the sun burst out of the horizon
and caught her here, oblivious of all precise details 
her heart was so heavy, oh God, so heavy
he left her with child and a deadly disease
but he... he was worthy of all the trouble
and as she danced beneath the aqueduct
knowing that this picturesque scenery will cure her throbs
#fantasy  #fiction 
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Do you remember the tales told to you as a child by your elders? Perhaps fables or mythology native to your region or country of origin? Take fragments of those stories to incorporate into an updated or new story (or poem!) of your own. Tag me, if you wish. #clevermonkeytales
Written by Finder in portal Fantasy

A Family of Magical Thinking

Passed down through generations

from a village beside the Danube

flowing wizards, gypsies and hags

overflowing with magical thinking 

gifted 

twisted and aged talismans

plucked from

spinning bowls of mustard seeds

a feather from a chicken

who ran into the fire

bits of rope

tossed in the air

made whole a circle unbroken

to my grandfather 

to protect him

on his journey

to a new world

aboard

great steaming ships

to insure

he'd be very rich

marry twice

and live a very very long time

                            and he did.

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Do you remember the tales told to you as a child by your elders? Perhaps fables or mythology native to your region or country of origin? Take fragments of those stories to incorporate into an updated or new story (or poem!) of your own. Tag me, if you wish. #clevermonkeytales
Written by Finder in portal Fantasy
A Family of Magical Thinking
Passed down through generations
from a village beside the Danube
flowing wizards, gypsies and hags
overflowing with magical thinking 
gifted 
twisted and aged talismans
plucked from
spinning bowls of mustard seeds
a feather from a chicken
who ran into the fire
bits of rope
tossed in the air
made whole a circle unbroken
to my grandfather 
to protect him
on his journey
to a new world
aboard
great steaming ships
to insure
he'd be very rich
marry twice
and live a very very long time
                            and he did.
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Do you remember the tales told to you as a child by your elders? Perhaps fables or mythology native to your region or country of origin? Take fragments of those stories to incorporate into an updated or new story (or poem!) of your own. Tag me, if you wish. #clevermonkeytales
Written by DavidMark in portal Fantasy

Polis

If I had to guess

what would

come to pass

if I turned to evil,

what was good

and what was not,

I could always 

call on Granny Watt.

She's the one

who taught us lots

about life and how

we should never

worship gelt 

scant the faeries

scheme or plot

steal her bus fare,

and scrump mint bliss

if we didn't want

our collars felt

by the awesome

Polis.

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Do you remember the tales told to you as a child by your elders? Perhaps fables or mythology native to your region or country of origin? Take fragments of those stories to incorporate into an updated or new story (or poem!) of your own. Tag me, if you wish. #clevermonkeytales
Written by DavidMark in portal Fantasy
Polis
If I had to guess
what would
come to pass
if I turned to evil,
what was good
and what was not,
I could always 
call on Granny Watt.
She's the one
who taught us lots
about life and how
we should never
worship gelt 
scant the faeries
scheme or plot
steal her bus fare,
and scrump mint bliss
if we didn't want
our collars felt
by the awesome
Polis.
#poetry  #mystery 
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Written by Meadow337 in portal Fantasy

The Dreaming

At night, I dream of water. A black lake stretches beyond the limit of my vision. I float beneath the song of the stars dancing in precession overhead. During the day, I walk through the desert. Heat devils lead the way through the sere rocks. I follow them not caring where they lead. This is my home. This was my home. What life remains after the war clings to the edges of the desert. I am alone here perhaps the only one left, but I cannot make that presumption. I do not know if there are other survivors. I do not know if the Draxians missed any more of my people. I could not be the only one who was away at the time of the round-up.

We survived the attacks. Perhaps even the Draxians felt guilt at bombing people who did not fight back. Our leaders preached tolerance and love. "Peaceful resistance overcomes aggression," they said. So we resisted peacefully, so peacefully that the Draxians stopped bombing us. We celebrated the swift end to the aggression. The next day Draxian ships landed in every town, village, and hamlet. Draxian machines swarmed out of the ships like angry wasps armed with a sting. They flew into every home and found every man, woman and child and stung them to sleep. When the job was done the Draxians came out and loaded up every Atanasi into the ships and left.

Early that morning I had left home to spend the day in meditation. The shrine to the Elder Gods was located in the caves behind our village and every Shaman trainee was put on the meditation roster in their second year. I was in my third year and had only had meditation duty once a month. Meditation focused the mind and taught the necessary stillness to hear the Elder Gods speak. Once the trick of it was established, less time was devoted to meditation and more time to other lessons. I was looking forward to the fourth year when we only had meditation duty once every two months and even more so to graduation at the end of the fifth year when we only need refresh our skills when we felt we had to. I was sure I would never need a refresher because I hated the time spent in idleness.

Now I am grateful for the training. Nothing could have better prepared me for the isolation than the meditation training. I often find myself entering the trance state. I am not sure if I am ever truly awake. At night I slip into the lake of my dreams as easily as a swimmer slips into the sea. The cool water greets me and I silently float beneath the stars.

In the morning, I rise and follow the first heat devil to shimmer into life. I go where it leads. I am alone in the desert, the last of my people. I am sure of that now. I saw the Draxian ships land in my village. I saw their drones sting my mother, my father, my brother, my sister to sleep. I saw the Draxians emerge with their floating pallets and load everyone into their ships. I saw them fly away with my family and I did nothing but watch.

Now I watch. I watch my feet land on the ground with sulfurous puffs of yellow dust. I watch the dust rise in lazy swirls in the wind. It blows away leaving no trace behind, like there is no trace of my people. After the Draxian ships ascended, they blasted the planet clean leaving nothing but scorched earth. Once again, the Elder Gods came to my rescue. I was lying before the shrine chanting the dirge for the dead when the heat rolled over me. When I woke, the world was dead.

Every day I wake thirsty. The water of my dreams does not quench my thirst. Drinking it brings strange hallucinations. The first time I bent my head in my dream and drank, I was shocked at the coldness of it. The water has the cold bitter taste of death. It squirms its way uneasily down my throat and settles like a dead weight in my stomach. I dry-heave in reaction. I have nothing to vomit, only this lead weight in my stomach dragging me down, down, down below the surface of the lake. I look up and there reflected on the border between water and air I see my family. Their terrified faces scream open-mouthed at me. They slide down to meet me and I open my mouth to scream as their cold fingers touch my face. With each scream I only succeed in swallowing more water and with each mouthful of death I gulp, I see more Draxians reflected above me. I struggle, thrashing helplessly against the dead fingers pulling me deeper into the lake. I wake thirsty.

There is no water left. I do not know why I am still alive. It has been days since I last drank the cool water from the river in my village. The river is gone, as are all the rivers, lakes, and seas. There is only desert. During the day, I walk through the desert. At night, I dream of water and I hear the Elder Gods speak.

"Ashara," they call my name gently. I am not yet ready to answer. What help are they? What help were they? I was in their shrine meditating when the Draxian ships came. I know they did nothing. I fall; I weep dry tears of sand. It has been days since I drank the cool water from the river in my village. I splashed through the river as I ran, desperate to reach the village in time to save Mother, Father, Ashok, Adya, anyone. I was too late. The Draxian drones had already stung them. I cowered in the Aamrapali grove and watched. I watched the Draxians load them up and float them into the ship and I did nothing. The Elder Gods did nothing. I was their servant. I was the last one left to serve them. They owed me something didn't they? If they wanted my help, they should have helped my family. Too late, I call out but the sound of the Draxian ships drown my voice.

I am drowning in dust. It pours over me finding its way into every crevice. I need shelter. "Ashara, this way…" I hear the Elder Gods call me. Blindly I follow the voice I had heard since I was very young. Its familiar cadences sooth my fear. The wind suddenly stops tugging at my clothing and its whine is still. Coolness surrounds me. I hear water. I stop. I am awake so how can I hear water. I only dream of water, never hear it and when I am awake there was only desert. I smell water. Every sense heightened by the desert, my parched cells open and suck the moisture from the air. I stagger towards it and I feel the touch of a fine mist on my skin. One more step and my outstretched hand immerses in the small stream of water trickling down the rock face. I plunge my face in and drink.

I drink some water from the river that runs through our village and wash the tears from my face. All I can do is return to the shrine and sing for my family. I assume their deaths, and when I reach the shrine, I fall on my face before the Elder Gods and sing the Dirge for the Dead. The wave of heat washes over me and leaves me unconscious. I wake to a dead world.

The world is dead and I have died with it. I sit in a cave conversing with the Elder Gods. I drink the water they provide from a rock. I eat the bread-fungi that grow in the damp crevices next to it. I listen to the Elder Gods speak, something I have done since I was very young. I am a Shaman-in-training chosen by the Elder Gods themselves, the first in ten thousand years.

"We chose you because we knew this would happen." I close my ears. I do not want to hear what they have to say. They keep talking. "We chose you for this. You must find your people and return them to Atanasi. Only you can cross the lake and bring them back. They are the life of the planet. You are the life of the planet and while you remain, nothing can truly die."

At last, I listen. I lift my head and listen. I listen as the Elder Gods tell me of the journey I must make. I must cross the lake within one night. There would be no second attempt. I must cross and return with my people at the first attempt or we would all die. I drink the water. I eat the bread-fungi. I feel strength return. I sleep. The next day I walk the desert, but I do not go far. I return to the cave; I drink and eat.

"You are ready."

I nod and stretch out on the moss beside the water. I dream of water. A black lake stretches beyond the limit of my vision. I float beneath the song of the stars dancing in precession overhead. I float toward the far side. I am too slow. I must go faster. I hear the voices "Go below" and I bend and drink. The water is cold and the icy shock of it threatens to wake me, but its dead weight soon drags me below the surface. The fingers of a swift current tug at me; I open my mouth and take in another mouthful. I sink lower and the current grabs me and carries me. The current throws me from the lake. There gathered on the shore are Mother, Father, Ashok, Adya, everyone. I lead them into the water. The current is against us but we must leave this shore. The people cry in fear as the current throws them onto the rocks. I stand helpless and watch. A hot breath of wind touches my back and I remember.

During the day, I walk through the desert. Heat devils lead the way through the sere rocks. I follow them knowing they will lead us home. What life remains after the war walks out of the desert with me and with every step life returns. It rains. I return to my village and drink of the sweet water that flows through it. I make my way to the shrine of the Elder Gods and give thanks. They owe me nothing for they have given me everything. 

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Written by Meadow337 in portal Fantasy
The Dreaming

At night, I dream of water. A black lake stretches beyond the limit of my vision. I float beneath the song of the stars dancing in precession overhead. During the day, I walk through the desert. Heat devils lead the way through the sere rocks. I follow them not caring where they lead. This is my home. This was my home. What life remains after the war clings to the edges of the desert. I am alone here perhaps the only one left, but I cannot make that presumption. I do not know if there are other survivors. I do not know if the Draxians missed any more of my people. I could not be the only one who was away at the time of the round-up.

We survived the attacks. Perhaps even the Draxians felt guilt at bombing people who did not fight back. Our leaders preached tolerance and love. "Peaceful resistance overcomes aggression," they said. So we resisted peacefully, so peacefully that the Draxians stopped bombing us. We celebrated the swift end to the aggression. The next day Draxian ships landed in every town, village, and hamlet. Draxian machines swarmed out of the ships like angry wasps armed with a sting. They flew into every home and found every man, woman and child and stung them to sleep. When the job was done the Draxians came out and loaded up every Atanasi into the ships and left.

Early that morning I had left home to spend the day in meditation. The shrine to the Elder Gods was located in the caves behind our village and every Shaman trainee was put on the meditation roster in their second year. I was in my third year and had only had meditation duty once a month. Meditation focused the mind and taught the necessary stillness to hear the Elder Gods speak. Once the trick of it was established, less time was devoted to meditation and more time to other lessons. I was looking forward to the fourth year when we only had meditation duty once every two months and even more so to graduation at the end of the fifth year when we only need refresh our skills when we felt we had to. I was sure I would never need a refresher because I hated the time spent in idleness.

Now I am grateful for the training. Nothing could have better prepared me for the isolation than the meditation training. I often find myself entering the trance state. I am not sure if I am ever truly awake. At night I slip into the lake of my dreams as easily as a swimmer slips into the sea. The cool water greets me and I silently float beneath the stars.

In the morning, I rise and follow the first heat devil to shimmer into life. I go where it leads. I am alone in the desert, the last of my people. I am sure of that now. I saw the Draxian ships land in my village. I saw their drones sting my mother, my father, my brother, my sister to sleep. I saw the Draxians emerge with their floating pallets and load everyone into their ships. I saw them fly away with my family and I did nothing but watch.

Now I watch. I watch my feet land on the ground with sulfurous puffs of yellow dust. I watch the dust rise in lazy swirls in the wind. It blows away leaving no trace behind, like there is no trace of my people. After the Draxian ships ascended, they blasted the planet clean leaving nothing but scorched earth. Once again, the Elder Gods came to my rescue. I was lying before the shrine chanting the dirge for the dead when the heat rolled over me. When I woke, the world was dead.

Every day I wake thirsty. The water of my dreams does not quench my thirst. Drinking it brings strange hallucinations. The first time I bent my head in my dream and drank, I was shocked at the coldness of it. The water has the cold bitter taste of death. It squirms its way uneasily down my throat and settles like a dead weight in my stomach. I dry-heave in reaction. I have nothing to vomit, only this lead weight in my stomach dragging me down, down, down below the surface of the lake. I look up and there reflected on the border between water and air I see my family. Their terrified faces scream open-mouthed at me. They slide down to meet me and I open my mouth to scream as their cold fingers touch my face. With each scream I only succeed in swallowing more water and with each mouthful of death I gulp, I see more Draxians reflected above me. I struggle, thrashing helplessly against the dead fingers pulling me deeper into the lake. I wake thirsty.

There is no water left. I do not know why I am still alive. It has been days since I last drank the cool water from the river in my village. The river is gone, as are all the rivers, lakes, and seas. There is only desert. During the day, I walk through the desert. At night, I dream of water and I hear the Elder Gods speak.

"Ashara," they call my name gently. I am not yet ready to answer. What help are they? What help were they? I was in their shrine meditating when the Draxian ships came. I know they did nothing. I fall; I weep dry tears of sand. It has been days since I drank the cool water from the river in my village. I splashed through the river as I ran, desperate to reach the village in time to save Mother, Father, Ashok, Adya, anyone. I was too late. The Draxian drones had already stung them. I cowered in the Aamrapali grove and watched. I watched the Draxians load them up and float them into the ship and I did nothing. The Elder Gods did nothing. I was their servant. I was the last one left to serve them. They owed me something didn't they? If they wanted my help, they should have helped my family. Too late, I call out but the sound of the Draxian ships drown my voice.

I am drowning in dust. It pours over me finding its way into every crevice. I need shelter. "Ashara, this way…" I hear the Elder Gods call me. Blindly I follow the voice I had heard since I was very young. Its familiar cadences sooth my fear. The wind suddenly stops tugging at my clothing and its whine is still. Coolness surrounds me. I hear water. I stop. I am awake so how can I hear water. I only dream of water, never hear it and when I am awake there was only desert. I smell water. Every sense heightened by the desert, my parched cells open and suck the moisture from the air. I stagger towards it and I feel the touch of a fine mist on my skin. One more step and my outstretched hand immerses in the small stream of water trickling down the rock face. I plunge my face in and drink.

I drink some water from the river that runs through our village and wash the tears from my face. All I can do is return to the shrine and sing for my family. I assume their deaths, and when I reach the shrine, I fall on my face before the Elder Gods and sing the Dirge for the Dead. The wave of heat washes over me and leaves me unconscious. I wake to a dead world.

The world is dead and I have died with it. I sit in a cave conversing with the Elder Gods. I drink the water they provide from a rock. I eat the bread-fungi that grow in the damp crevices next to it. I listen to the Elder Gods speak, something I have done since I was very young. I am a Shaman-in-training chosen by the Elder Gods themselves, the first in ten thousand years.

"We chose you because we knew this would happen." I close my ears. I do not want to hear what they have to say. They keep talking. "We chose you for this. You must find your people and return them to Atanasi. Only you can cross the lake and bring them back. They are the life of the planet. You are the life of the planet and while you remain, nothing can truly die."

At last, I listen. I lift my head and listen. I listen as the Elder Gods tell me of the journey I must make. I must cross the lake within one night. There would be no second attempt. I must cross and return with my people at the first attempt or we would all die. I drink the water. I eat the bread-fungi. I feel strength return. I sleep. The next day I walk the desert, but I do not go far. I return to the cave; I drink and eat.

"You are ready."

I nod and stretch out on the moss beside the water. I dream of water. A black lake stretches beyond the limit of my vision. I float beneath the song of the stars dancing in precession overhead. I float toward the far side. I am too slow. I must go faster. I hear the voices "Go below" and I bend and drink. The water is cold and the icy shock of it threatens to wake me, but its dead weight soon drags me below the surface. The fingers of a swift current tug at me; I open my mouth and take in another mouthful. I sink lower and the current grabs me and carries me. The current throws me from the lake. There gathered on the shore are Mother, Father, Ashok, Adya, everyone. I lead them into the water. The current is against us but we must leave this shore. The people cry in fear as the current throws them onto the rocks. I stand helpless and watch. A hot breath of wind touches my back and I remember.

During the day, I walk through the desert. Heat devils lead the way through the sere rocks. I follow them knowing they will lead us home. What life remains after the war walks out of the desert with me and with every step life returns. It rains. I return to my village and drink of the sweet water that flows through it. I make my way to the shrine of the Elder Gods and give thanks. They owe me nothing for they have given me everything. 
#fantasy  #scifi  #fiction 
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Do you remember the tales told to you as a child by your elders? Perhaps fables or mythology native to your region or country of origin? Take fragments of those stories to incorporate into an updated or new story (or poem!) of your own. Tag me, if you wish. #clevermonkeytales
Written by jgonzalez5671 in portal Fantasy

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Nine children in two

One child in two floor

Bedroom apartment

Urban neighborhood

French Canadian Maine

House Hispanic home

Bread soaked in maple

Laptop, desktop, cell

Syrup a rare treat

Silence a rare treat

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Do you remember the tales told to you as a child by your elders? Perhaps fables or mythology native to your region or country of origin? Take fragments of those stories to incorporate into an updated or new story (or poem!) of your own. Tag me, if you wish. #clevermonkeytales
Written by jgonzalez5671 in portal Fantasy
Skip
Nine children in two
One child in two floor
Bedroom apartment
Urban neighborhood
French Canadian Maine
House Hispanic home
Bread soaked in maple
Laptop, desktop, cell
Syrup a rare treat
Silence a rare treat


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Written by Mnezz in portal Fantasy

€NCHANTING.

Come with me

Let's go on

A mystical

Whimsical path

Swift journey

I will see what's

Truly inside

You who you

Really are

Take a look

Let me see

How kind have

You been my

Royal Leader

Your kingdom

Adores You How

Dear you are

To them all

And yet you

Treat them like

Fools, as though

They are only

Some useless tools

My goodness gee

Now heed these words

Powerful and ever true

Unless you change

Your heart and actions

Find someone who loves

You for who you really are

Une Très belle jeune Lady

Hope your path ends up

Being bright in the end

I'll be watching you &

The moment that you

Treat others justly, fair

And right with thanks to

Having found a person

Who Loves you for who

You are on the inside

Willing to be with you

For all of her lifetime

Then this enchantment

Will be shuttered and

Everyone in this place

Shall be as they once were

Back to their true human

Forms full of life!

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Written by Mnezz in portal Fantasy
€NCHANTING.
Come with me
Let's go on
A mystical
Whimsical path
Swift journey
I will see what's
Truly inside
You who you
Really are
Take a look
Let me see
How kind have
You been my
Royal Leader
Your kingdom
Adores You How
Dear you are
To them all
And yet you
Treat them like
Fools, as though
They are only
Some useless tools
My goodness gee

Now heed these words
Powerful and ever true
Unless you change
Your heart and actions
Find someone who loves
You for who you really are
Une Très belle jeune Lady
Hope your path ends up
Being bright in the end
I'll be watching you &
The moment that you
Treat others justly, fair
And right with thanks to
Having found a person
Who Loves you for who
You are on the inside
Willing to be with you
For all of her lifetime
Then this enchantment
Will be shuttered and
Everyone in this place
Shall be as they once were
Back to their true human
Forms full of life!
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Written by AWriter in portal Fantasy

New Dragon Scale Traveling Coat

The Annual Christmas Eve Party was in full swing, party streamers hung from the lights and drunken singing of Hangover could be heard throughout the complex. “This is an Eve party to remember!” one elf told another to loudly in the momentary lull in the music.

The last of the presents had been wrapped and everything was ready for the all important Christmas Eve flight. All could make merry and forget about the stress of delivering millions of presents to millions of people with large quantities of Brandy Snaps and Hot Cocoa.

Santa had already passed his Brandy Snap limit and had slid under the table with a loud snore, while Mrs. Claus was just warming up. She had yet to beat the this year's Yeti Arm Wrestling Champ and win the last of the ready cash from the Yeti’s Ambassador, who came every year in the hopes of winning some of his cash back.

“I feel that I am going to get at least last year's wages back, Mrs.Claus… We have a grand champ this year. No-one was even close to beating him this year!”

“I too have a feeling Arnold.” Mrs.Claus replied, “I have the feeling that this is going to be like stealing treasure from a pirate! The easiest thing in the world!” Nervous laughter followed from Arnold, whenever she started hinting at her piratical life on the high seas, he knew it meant that she thought she was going to win.

It was into this quietly brash event that the unthinkable landed. A loud crash cut through the sound of twenty elves singing Gangnam Style, knocking them over like bowling pins as lumps of ice, shards of glass and three rather large dragons landed on the dance floor.

With a absurdly gentlemanly manner the biggest of the three dragons stepped forward and said, “I am Humanagor. I was sent here to represent my people.” He ruffled his wings loving the looks of dumb shock on everyone's faces. “Who is your leader?”

Mrs.Claus stepped forward, pushing aside stunned elves and stood before Humanagor with her hands on her hips, “That would be me and I would very much like the meaning of all this. Dragons haven’t been in these parts in a very long time indeed.” There was a pause followed by, “For a very good reason.”

“Well Mrs. Claus...We were just flying home for the season when we saw the lights and heard the music and thought that we could really use a party like that. So we came here to steal it.”

“Yeah!” Said a dragon behind Humanagor in a high pitched voice, “It’s ours now!” Mrs.Claus looked up at Humanagor and folded her arms,

“Ah ha… You might as well fly outta here again as what you have planned just isn’t going to happen boys.” There was a chuckle from the dragons as Humanagor picked up a still stunned elf and contemplatively looked at Mrs. Claus,

“Well… let me put this to you Mrs. Claus. Either we get the party or we eat all of you.”

“Yeah! We could use some snacks!” Once again came from behind Humanagor.

There was stunning silence as Mrs.Claus and Humanagor stared at each-other.

“I don’t think so…” said Mrs.Claus with the calm of a person responsible for the organisation of the biggest event of the year, and a history of making the worst pirate cry, “Partly because Elves taste horrid and mostly because that would mean you would have to deal with me.” She stepped closer and caught Humanagor’s eye and said quietly, “and I could use another dragon scale traveling coat… The last one is looking a little moth eaten.” Humanagor looked at the small smile that Mrs.Claus was wearing and the way she held his eye and swallowed. This was a women who wanted a new dragon scale traveling coat for those long wintery trips. She was all but daring him to make a move that would allow her to get one for the Christmas Season.

With care he put the elf down again and cleared his throat before carefully saying, “Maybe we could leave the snacks, leave the party in your hands and just join in on the chorus of Pen Pineapple Apple Pen?”

With a smile Mrs.Claus stepped back and nodded. “That would be fine… Then you could also fix the hole you have made in the roof.” There was a start of an ‘aww’ from behind Humanagor when it was sharply cut off with a snap of his tail. He wasn’t going to risk being turned into a coat over a little mess.

“Sure this Ma’am! We will have all of this cleared up in no time.”

That Eve party was was remembered by all as they best in the last fifty years. Mrs.Claus cleaned the Yetis out, Pen Pineapple Apple Pen became the hit song among the elves, and dragons got a reminding tale of why they steer clear of the North Pole.

All in all it was just another tale about how “All’s well that ends well” with a side note of being careful of whose party you crash. But then all good stories need a moral don’t they?

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Written by AWriter in portal Fantasy
New Dragon Scale Traveling Coat
The Annual Christmas Eve Party was in full swing, party streamers hung from the lights and drunken singing of Hangover could be heard throughout the complex. “This is an Eve party to remember!” one elf told another to loudly in the momentary lull in the music.

The last of the presents had been wrapped and everything was ready for the all important Christmas Eve flight. All could make merry and forget about the stress of delivering millions of presents to millions of people with large quantities of Brandy Snaps and Hot Cocoa.

Santa had already passed his Brandy Snap limit and had slid under the table with a loud snore, while Mrs. Claus was just warming up. She had yet to beat the this year's Yeti Arm Wrestling Champ and win the last of the ready cash from the Yeti’s Ambassador, who came every year in the hopes of winning some of his cash back.

“I feel that I am going to get at least last year's wages back, Mrs.Claus… We have a grand champ this year. No-one was even close to beating him this year!”

“I too have a feeling Arnold.” Mrs.Claus replied, “I have the feeling that this is going to be like stealing treasure from a pirate! The easiest thing in the world!” Nervous laughter followed from Arnold, whenever she started hinting at her piratical life on the high seas, he knew it meant that she thought she was going to win.

It was into this quietly brash event that the unthinkable landed. A loud crash cut through the sound of twenty elves singing Gangnam Style, knocking them over like bowling pins as lumps of ice, shards of glass and three rather large dragons landed on the dance floor.

With a absurdly gentlemanly manner the biggest of the three dragons stepped forward and said, “I am Humanagor. I was sent here to represent my people.” He ruffled his wings loving the looks of dumb shock on everyone's faces. “Who is your leader?”

Mrs.Claus stepped forward, pushing aside stunned elves and stood before Humanagor with her hands on her hips, “That would be me and I would very much like the meaning of all this. Dragons haven’t been in these parts in a very long time indeed.” There was a pause followed by, “For a very good reason.”

“Well Mrs. Claus...We were just flying home for the season when we saw the lights and heard the music and thought that we could really use a party like that. So we came here to steal it.”

“Yeah!” Said a dragon behind Humanagor in a high pitched voice, “It’s ours now!” Mrs.Claus looked up at Humanagor and folded her arms,

“Ah ha… You might as well fly outta here again as what you have planned just isn’t going to happen boys.” There was a chuckle from the dragons as Humanagor picked up a still stunned elf and contemplatively looked at Mrs. Claus,

“Well… let me put this to you Mrs. Claus. Either we get the party or we eat all of you.”

“Yeah! We could use some snacks!” Once again came from behind Humanagor.

There was stunning silence as Mrs.Claus and Humanagor stared at each-other.

“I don’t think so…” said Mrs.Claus with the calm of a person responsible for the organisation of the biggest event of the year, and a history of making the worst pirate cry, “Partly because Elves taste horrid and mostly because that would mean you would have to deal with me.” She stepped closer and caught Humanagor’s eye and said quietly, “and I could use another dragon scale traveling coat… The last one is looking a little moth eaten.” Humanagor looked at the small smile that Mrs.Claus was wearing and the way she held his eye and swallowed. This was a women who wanted a new dragon scale traveling coat for those long wintery trips. She was all but daring him to make a move that would allow her to get one for the Christmas Season.

With care he put the elf down again and cleared his throat before carefully saying, “Maybe we could leave the snacks, leave the party in your hands and just join in on the chorus of Pen Pineapple Apple Pen?”

With a smile Mrs.Claus stepped back and nodded. “That would be fine… Then you could also fix the hole you have made in the roof.” There was a start of an ‘aww’ from behind Humanagor when it was sharply cut off with a snap of his tail. He wasn’t going to risk being turned into a coat over a little mess.

“Sure this Ma’am! We will have all of this cleared up in no time.”

That Eve party was was remembered by all as they best in the last fifty years. Mrs.Claus cleaned the Yetis out, Pen Pineapple Apple Pen became the hit song among the elves, and dragons got a reminding tale of why they steer clear of the North Pole.

All in all it was just another tale about how “All’s well that ends well” with a side note of being careful of whose party you crash. But then all good stories need a moral don’t they?
#fantasy  #fiction  #adventure  #short 
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Written by Tayesha in portal Fantasy

Peace

I'm searching for a place to hide

               because I feel so strange now

I need to be free, so

           come and follow me into the darkness

I must find my wonderland

      I hear the howling trees

and bats fleeing with fear

         as the moonlight pushes through

  the twines of ivy

          under my feet I hear 

     the crunching of twigs breaking

 surrounded by the humming buzz

           of fireflies ringing through my ears

  as I run through the night

hiding my emotions

      under the surface of my fear

in search for some peace

              I can feel it near

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Written by Tayesha in portal Fantasy
Peace
I'm searching for a place to hide
               because I feel so strange now
I need to be free, so
           come and follow me into the darkness
I must find my wonderland
      I hear the howling trees
and bats fleeing with fear
         as the moonlight pushes through
  the twines of ivy
          under my feet I hear 
     the crunching of twigs breaking
 surrounded by the humming buzz
           of fireflies ringing through my ears
  as I run through the night
hiding my emotions
      under the surface of my fear
in search for some peace
              I can feel it near
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Written by Sandymancan in portal Fantasy

She's A BLACK WIDOW

In this dark illusion it’s fulfilling a tribal fear,

your cast iron cruelties equipped it’s caviler.

Your charisma should have been my warning,

my musing nemesis is relentless yet charming.

Fragmented folklore the tales that are figments,

my clairvoyance is resistant I must be persistent.

That sheer dress that's clinging to your naked body,

this imagery is profound yet my eyes disregard me.

My reasoning unwinds this lustful sight controls me,

plunging knife it must be, for now your done with me.

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Written by Sandymancan in portal Fantasy
She's A BLACK WIDOW
In this dark illusion it’s fulfilling a tribal fear,
your cast iron cruelties equipped it’s caviler.

Your charisma should have been my warning,
my musing nemesis is relentless yet charming.

Fragmented folklore the tales that are figments,
my clairvoyance is resistant I must be persistent.

That sheer dress that's clinging to your naked body,
this imagery is profound yet my eyes disregard me.

My reasoning unwinds this lustful sight controls me,
plunging knife it must be, for now your done with me.








#fantasy  #poetry 
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