III : An ominous voice.

Henry, Oh Henry… Frantically, I whipped my head from side to side. Where was the voice coming from? Completely submerged, I’d drifted down into the depths of the quarry, where this deep, resonating voice confronted me. It was omnipresent, vibrating the water all around me with its throbbing bass, my ears ringing as I listened, Day by day, the end nears  So please, do keep in mind You’ll have to come to terms You’re the last of your kind. No matter where you run No matter what you try Give in, and change your ways… Read More

II : A thoughtful present.

He, The North, Cuts the brush; His Eastern entourage Tailing that familiar rush Of said sweet Southbound trail • Soaring spirits flying high, yet, marred By echoes haunting this final evening quest Now you must run fast from an impending scar Sunset coming, leaves falling, all bowing to the West • Run, oh woodland wand’re, run for the edge is creeping near Take stock of what you’ve got; watch each egg within your basket Oh, You can hope, you can hide, but please do abide by fledgling fears And know this marks… Read More

I : A foreboding note.

It began with a poem, that looked like a note, left on my bed by a person unknown: Heed this warning, woodland wand’re While quick to Spring You’re soon to Fall. Leaves that change for Winter’s shadow, Will sing this song, My Summer’s son: Rise not and set On season’s close Henry the great Adventurer I read the note and turned the piece of parchment over in my palm. This was some true blue, old-fashioned parchment, I kid you not: it was wrinkled, worn, and every bit as weathered as you’d imagine… Read More