sinjanb93

Pry inside me; for I dare you to peek within......don't stumble upon a crow while you are at it.

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  • sinjanb93 2w

    The Shaman of the East-Chapter 1

    Shorburry being a remote town, had that much citizens to make it prone for habitation. If you considered the odd horse drawn carts, that passed over a cobbled road on a bleak morning. Thereby, scattering the gathered muck in puddles upon the lonely passerby's who might have stopped by a lamplight for a smoke.

    However, ill temper was not a characteristic that defined a Shorburry resident. It was their least concern for something, and most importantly their fear that shot up around absurd notions. For instance a tumbling bunch of bananas blocking a person's passageway suddenly was regarded to be an ill omen, that indicated that the deity Maule would need to consider his favours for the same such individual. A candle blurted out from a sudden gale, was suspected to be a whisper of Nikke who was looking for someone to share her curses.

    A similar tale was unfolding in the old townhouse of Shorburry.

    In a packed stand, the noble families of Shorburry along with the lesser middle class were seated in a descending pattern. Giving away to a cleared path before the judges table and jury around.

    While located in an isolated corner to the right was the accused Lo Raven.

    'My lord, it is not unknown to our honest community, in how we regard our superstitions', went on Hugh Kissinger representing the noble families of Shorburry.

    'We know how it might seem to the outside world, and how they perceive about us.....Yet, do we not try to explain in our humble opinion of why we accept it's practice. Do we not consider their opinions, despite it affecting us not even in the slightest'.

    'Instead, of respecting our customs and cultures. Some scholar steps in from this outside world, and tries to educate us in our own ways',guffawed Hugh triggering a bout of laughter among the noble contingent on the stands.

    'This person', pointing at Lo....'has participated to the effect, and has been partially successful in influencing quite a coterie',spoke Hugh indicating at the lower middle class.

    'Instead of being grateful, to the hospitality of two individuals who put him up in their house. Mr. Raven managed to diabolically manipulate the Rance family into sharing their beliefs and traditions', again indicated Kissinger pointing at a white cropped haired male, in a less neatly trimmed moustache and an unkempt suit and an elderly broad in a pink petticoat with a floral hat titling to the right of head among the lower middle class segment.

    'Thus, ensuring that he can mislead them towards believing that he shared their beliefs. Furthermore, goading them through intent especially by introducing a prohibited instrument of our society an Ouija board'.

    'What followed in the house down on Baxter Avenue, was bare attempts at summoning whatever the same so-called instrument is renowned to summon. All, that the witnesses later testifying to have revealed to be are farts from nature', explained Hugh by turning and winking at the Noble audience with a smile.

    Another rush of laughter erupted among the nobles of Shorburry, while the lesser nobles kept mum.

    'Order....Order', shouted the honorable justice Miravia striking the gravel.

    'As I was saying your honour....Moaning winds, tumbling dishwashers, and clattering shutters would be the appropriate expression to describe the experiences of the witnesses. Surprisingly, none of them felt, saw, or even heard all the things together. They simply remember one off indications from the same, and none of them have clarity of memory.'

    'It could have ended there, had not the accuser Mr.Lo Raven had other plans in order. To display his incredulous claims, he resorted to a heinous crime in brutally killing off Mr.Rance's stepdaughter Tiffiny', exclaimed Kissinger.

    'Now, my lord instead of getting into the asinine details of what might have unfolded during the sittings around the board, that will not interest this court.It will save a lot of time for the working men, if you would order this villain to be hanged', angrily indicated Kissinger at Raven.

    'Does Mr.Raven have anything to state before this court?', asked Mirivia.

    Remaining non-plussed Lo Raven shook his head in a negative nod.

    'Then it is clear, that the accused Lo Raven former shaman of the East is found guilty in the murder of Tiffiny Rance former resident of Baxter Avenue house number 9'.......'The court is adequately convinced with the facts presented, and the evidences that might not need looking',growled the honorable justice staring at Raven.

    Raven had suddenly gone erect, and started mumbling, eyes closed.........after a few minutes he opened his eyes to reveal complete whiteness and then banged his head to be stirred from the trance or whatever he was in.

    'He's also into the stick', shouted a random noble from the stand.

    'such vile behaviour must not go unpunished', squeaked another. As voices stormed across the court, with the justice trying to bring order.

    Raven had a smirk across his face. His dishevelled locks gently stirring before his nose.

    All his life he earned from a sham. Then faced the wrath of countless non-believers before proving to them that the lie was not in making them believe on the existence after death, but in making them realising how profits might entail if they started believing.
    ©sinjanb93

  • sinjanb93 3w

    Lead me to the woods

    I like to hear you traipsing in the woods, on a dreary summer when nimble feet crinkle the weed.

    The turning of the rain drops, that fumble a part on your skin.

    Your dishevelled locks get heavy and stuck, while sweat beads wedged among the tank top begged a wonderer to believe.

    A deity of the forest, who walks with innovation
    I desire to lapse like those hobbling shoe laces through pressing. Hold on like ticks among the clothes.

    I know I have to follow, the rest should remain unknown.
    ©sinjanb93

  • sinjanb93 3w

    Grateful to you

    She thought I didn't know
    That what was unknown to most.
    Even if she reared over like a daunting mountain, with tumultuous snowfall.
    All I saw before was the settling Autumn leaves.

    As lost as the black sky
    Yet, scattered across with virtues like the shimmering stars.
    I endeared them, so I kept staring until I was not.

    Probably in a torn coat or an expensive tunic
    Even if a lacking supper, breaks my will.
    Or a belly heavy to satisfy, and still unsure
    It won't take away your memory before I am no more.

    For that I am grateful to you.
    ©sinjanb93

  • sinjanb93 3w

    Promises

    Little do I wonder what promises entail
    If not an extended familiarity, that does not return false
    Despite the consternation, does it not commit in knowing the else
    A brief interlude and then the usual self

    A lot more grievance, and a lot more tears
    Yet, by the time we do let bygones be the same
    Sitting ideally with a setting sun for company, we tend to enjoy shame

    Why would we look for another similar experience
    When we cannot fathom the makeup of lost time
    Listlessly keeping up with life, with hands in pockets do we roam

    Then, we do get people who share our fates
    They also realise, the lies we tug
    Instead of looking askance, never fail they do to love
    ©sinjanb93

  • sinjanb93 7w

    Where I am...

    Winter and falling snow, were my best friends coming into the house.
    Like two tykes lashing hands playfully, but as grown men keeping apart.
    Except they never reached my room, which was much colder with me.
    ©sinjanb93

  • sinjanb93 8w

    Like the dribbling sand within a grasp
    I dream, but it keeps running out
    Trampling monuments, I perch by the Pyramid of Giza. Seeing the surging water surround.
    ©sinjanb93

  • sinjanb93 9w

    Lose their hue, they do
    Bloomed on a dying garden
    Awaiting another birth on the dirt.
    ©sinjanb93

  • sinjanb93 12w

    It would not...

    Trickling tears would not say out loud, the gushing surge of a river.

    For mountains raged by storm, will only show its snow capped peaks to a distant onlooker.

    Felled trees would not blossom the cashew of a next season.

    Exposed to the wind, it will never remember if a life was lost from its branches.
    ©sinjanb93

  • sinjanb93 15w

    Siren's weep

    My road always faltered, for I had to seek my way through a fog.

    Through sight I was not keen, but my feet knew the walk.

    Coldness spread in every vein, and my journey tarried along.

    Her voice held my hand, and I flowed with her song.
    ©sinjanb93

  • sinjanb93 18w

    Like it was yesterday

    Standing by the water fountain, and filling a thermocol cup seemed to Rupert as an activity undone.

    Perhaps because his heart was half filled each time he filled it, or maybe his life had overflowed beyond its purpose.

    Either way, it didn't make a difference to his everyday ritual at work. However, this day seemed different at Keith's digital media and advertising...

    "It pleases me to see a fellow employee bring us a potential client",spoke the Manager Keith Richards.

    "I am just doing my job", replied Rupert.

    He entered his own cabin, turned on the lights on his table, picked up one of the pens from his pen stand, and scribbled something on his sticky note.

    Then began writing the invitation....

    On the auspicious occasion of twin souls adjoining in conjunction, all the ne'er do wells are hereby asked to lug their impassionate figures and come over down to 96/B Imperial road. It is advised to remember that both the bride and groom expected seclusion, but marriage requires taking your vows clasping hands and gleefully taking blessings from bottom feeders, sasquatches, and big hairy nincompoops.

    If the above context, seems harsh to all you time wasters. Then perhaps you can get your own bill at the next PF Chang's. Now, stop overthinking on this matter and get your fake dispositions to giddy up.

    I hereby, invite you to the marriage celebration of Cynthia Parkar, and Horace (HORSESHIT) Powell.

    Undersigned

    Her father

    PS- You're welcome for the next day's fart btw.

    Rupert kept the computer running, as well as setting his identity card and resignation on the table next to his monitor.

    Exiting the office, he threw a crumpled paper. The paper's pressure eased and it revealed a letter on the pavement.

    A year ago on our first valentine's day together, you told me how you wanted a wooden cabin few kilometres away from our old place around the forest in Oregon. You wanted me to teach you deer hunting, and making a barbecue for the neighbours.

    Those giggling kids running around the property, Mrs. Kimberly and Mrs. Wellington complaining about the next congressional vote, and Old Jake taking up the servers role.

    Among all this, my mind only ever took your image. That exuberant manner in which you handled our guests, and the mirth with which you enjoyed the moment. Later on we would shake our hips to a little salsa, and I would accidentally spill my lemonade on your blue dress with the umbrellas.

    As soon as you would look to rinse, I would come behind you to startle. Except, we would see each other in the mirror and have another laugh.

    Me pressed closed to you, and that gentle embrace that meant the world to me.

    I hope he fulfills that dream we had, Cynthia.

    Your past

    Rupert



    Ongoing din continued, with the traffic getting along like it was yesterday. Rupert's sticky note stood like a sore thumb revealing his write up 'need to leave soon'.
    ©sinjanb93