This is a weird one. I was sitting at work, thinking about E.B. White and Lewis Carroll and the strangely-worded poems that they had each written (Jabberwocky being the prime example). I decided to try my hand at a similar poem, and this is the result. The beginning, at least. I think that it will be at least three to four sections long. An interesting note is that as I wrote this, I had no plan. It just came to me line by line.
"The growl-man and the god-boy: The First"
By: AC
When the fog falls over the forest, and chilled night murders the warm day, the heavy fingers of the growl-man close around an imagined throat.
So fierce is the growl-man's grip that even this un-throat gasps in pain.
Lighting a glade deep in the forest is a fire built by he who the growl-man practise strangles. The god-boy.
The god-boy was brought into the world ages before even the old-man was born. No one knows by what, and the god-boy can't say, for the god-boy doesn't speak.
The god boy sits in the fairy light of the fire, dining on bits of the low-lying fog that he pulls out like taffy.
The fog has no taste, but is filling, and that's what matters.
Small creatures walk outside the glade containing the god-boy, skirting the edge, but not daring to cross it into the light.
For they both love/hate and worship/fear him. He has brought them calm and safety, but to fall under his gaze is to perish.
The god-boy's eyes glow with the bewitched sickness of a swamp mist, green as a spring willow, but death-shaded.
Welts raise upon skin that the god-boy witnesses, and soon burst open.
This is what turned the song-man into the growl-man.
The god-boy stopped on a walk and watched to hear the song-man sing. Welts destroyed the song-man's throat, forever turning his song into a growl. So the growl-man who was the song-man waits, and warms his heart with his hate.
End of the first.
"The Second"
The god-boy does not knowingly commit the harms that his gaze inflicts.
Since he, himself, has never known pain, he recognizes none of the symptoms it causes in other creatures.
To the god-boy's eyes, when a rabbit falls to the ground, bursting apart with welts and sores, it is nothing horrible or wrong. It is simply something that rabbits do.
So when the song-man's throat erupted, spewing forth no longer beautiful song, but foamy blood, it was simply part of the song.
The god-boy thought it strange, but he thought this of all creatures that he saw in the forest.
Soiltary life was nothing that the god-boy knew, it's just what he lived.
The song-man who was did know pain, however. His pain hardened his heart and tightened his eyes. He knew the sharp scrapes of pain's blade, understood them as they tore his throat, stealing his song.
The growl-man knew only phantom pain, now. The memory of the songs he'd sung chilled him and stung his mind.
The only urge that the growl-man had left was to strangle the life from the god-boy. The growl-man dreamed of giving the god-boy a measure of the pain he'd been given.
The how of doing this was what stopped the growl-man. How to get his fingers around the god-boy's silky throat. How to avoid those eyes and their killing sight.
So he followed the god-boy's steps. Thinking his dark thoughts and dreaming of murderous plans and long dead songs.
End of the second.
"The growl-man and the god-boy: The First"
By: AC
When the fog falls over the forest, and chilled night murders the warm day, the heavy fingers of the growl-man close around an imagined throat.
So fierce is the growl-man's grip that even this un-throat gasps in pain.
Lighting a glade deep in the forest is a fire built by he who the growl-man practise strangles. The god-boy.
The god-boy was brought into the world ages before even the old-man was born. No one knows by what, and the god-boy can't say, for the god-boy doesn't speak.
The god boy sits in the fairy light of the fire, dining on bits of the low-lying fog that he pulls out like taffy.
The fog has no taste, but is filling, and that's what matters.
Small creatures walk outside the glade containing the god-boy, skirting the edge, but not daring to cross it into the light.
For they both love/hate and worship/fear him. He has brought them calm and safety, but to fall under his gaze is to perish.
The god-boy's eyes glow with the bewitched sickness of a swamp mist, green as a spring willow, but death-shaded.
Welts raise upon skin that the god-boy witnesses, and soon burst open.
This is what turned the song-man into the growl-man.
The god-boy stopped on a walk and watched to hear the song-man sing. Welts destroyed the song-man's throat, forever turning his song into a growl. So the growl-man who was the song-man waits, and warms his heart with his hate.
End of the first.
"The Second"
The god-boy does not knowingly commit the harms that his gaze inflicts.
Since he, himself, has never known pain, he recognizes none of the symptoms it causes in other creatures.
To the god-boy's eyes, when a rabbit falls to the ground, bursting apart with welts and sores, it is nothing horrible or wrong. It is simply something that rabbits do.
So when the song-man's throat erupted, spewing forth no longer beautiful song, but foamy blood, it was simply part of the song.
The god-boy thought it strange, but he thought this of all creatures that he saw in the forest.
Soiltary life was nothing that the god-boy knew, it's just what he lived.
The song-man who was did know pain, however. His pain hardened his heart and tightened his eyes. He knew the sharp scrapes of pain's blade, understood them as they tore his throat, stealing his song.
The growl-man knew only phantom pain, now. The memory of the songs he'd sung chilled him and stung his mind.
The only urge that the growl-man had left was to strangle the life from the god-boy. The growl-man dreamed of giving the god-boy a measure of the pain he'd been given.
The how of doing this was what stopped the growl-man. How to get his fingers around the god-boy's silky throat. How to avoid those eyes and their killing sight.
So he followed the god-boy's steps. Thinking his dark thoughts and dreaming of murderous plans and long dead songs.
End of the second.