The Journey

 ***
There once was a man,
Of a restless sort,
Who wanted to leave his homeland,
and go an a journey,
An adventure to court.

He thought carefully,
And decided Mayfield was the way to go,
So he packed his bags and got on a boat,
Rocking to and fro.

In a stroke of bad luck,
Pirates struck,
All of the valuables from the ship, they tried to pluck,
But the man saved the ship by knocking the pirates into muck,
and then he said:"Earn an honest living, or else you're stuck."

He then got on a train,
Which bandits attacked, out for gain,
One of them though, was rather vain,
To keep a mirror on him, he never did refrain,
The man took the mirror from him and all of the bandits he did maim,
He tosses the mirror to the bleeding man, and said:
"That's what you get when you try and steal fame."

A taxi, he then got into,
Past a long highway, they drove.
A pair of hitchhikers they picked up hitherto,
at Hog and Warts Cove.
They then tried to rob him and the driver,
The man beat them with their own guns and told them,
"You were lacking in moral fiber".

He then finally reached Mayfield,
but sadly found it lacking,
But then realised,
That the journey to it was much more exciting.
***
"Life is a journey, not a destination," Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Well, that concludes the last of my Life Lessons Trilogy of Poems, hope you guys enjoyed it and I look forward to seeing you all at school after Friday!

The Librarian

This is my try at a thriller story. I wanted it to be a psychological thriller. Warning: May contain graphic content and explicit use of kitchen knives (and one book). Not suitable for the soft hearted.

Note: No books were harmed in the making of this story.

I am a Librarian. It's my job and I enjoy it. I just love to sit at the counter and read away my troubles in a silent environment without any disturbance. There is nothing more relaxing than this. It is my dream job. I don't understand why my family disagrees. Who wants a job where there are no books? Who wants a job where you can socialise? Aren't books a lot more soothing? Aren't they more enjoyable? I've been a librarian here for the last four years. My job is scheduled for Fridays. I am the only librarian here on that day of the week. I am the first to come and last to leave. Even the security guard leaves the keys with me to lock. That's how passionate I am about my job. I love every moment of it. Yet there has been this one thing that has been troubling me for a while.

It started two month ago. A group of six teens booked the library one Friday afternoon. Apparently they had started some sort of club and needed a meeting place. At first I didn't mind this, because they had booked at a time when only a few people came to the library and I didn't have much work to do. But I had no idea what I was getting myself into then. For the first three weeks they weren't bad. They were quiet, didn't disturb the others and did not cause any trouble. Soon however that all changed. On the fourth week they made a lot of noise and disturbed the other readers. Some regulars started leaving earlier than before because of this. I kept trying to talk to them. To tell them to pipe down a bit. But every time I tried they gave me a look that made my knees jiggle. I wouldn't stop them. I couldn't.

You see, in my teenage years I was constantly bullied by other teens. I wasn't strong or brave enough to stand up for myself so I allowed them to get to me. I never fought back. I took the insults. I took the punches. I was a weak little child. Once when I did try to stand up for myself they gave me a look and I backed down instantly. Now even when I have grown into an adult I still feel the cold and heartless glare of my tormentors at the back of my mind. When these teens glared at me I instantly remembered the torture I had to go through in my youth I had to back away instantly. I felt powerless. So I allowed them to run amok in the library as they pleased. They made all the noise they  could. They could disturb anyone they want. To make things worse they were also the last to leave the library. That is how it has been for the last six weeks. I couldn't stand it. The library is a sacred place, is it not? It's not a place for hooligans. It is where people could enjoy some quiet reading time and that's how it should be treated. So today I have decided to put an end to this nonsense once and for all.

I slip my hands into my bag and feel the blade of the knife I had hidden in there. As my hands slide over the cold surface I feel a strange jolt of pleasure run up my spine. I am finally going to return the library to it's former glory. I am going to make it sacred again. I smile at the thought. Then I giggle. Soon I am all over the floor in a fit of laughter. I calm down quickly however. I can feel all of the library visitors looking at me. I feel embarrassed. A librarian like me should be the last person to cause any sort of disturbance in a library. I sit back on my seat sheepishly but soon my attention return to the sharp metallic object I have hidden in my bag. And I wait.

Here they come. The six little devils. The cause for all of my misery. I watch them take their seats at the further corner. Soon the talking and chattering begins. I do my best to not react straight away. I don't want to do it yet. I hold myself back and wait for my chance. Like a cat stalking its prey I keep my eyes on the teens. The rest of the day goes as usual. Soon everyone in the library except for the teens, the security guard and myself have left. I wait for the guard to leave the key with me and leave. When he does I lock the door and go back to my counter. I pick up the knife from the bottom of my bag and hide it under my jacket. Good. Now I can get the library back to how it used to be.

One of the teens smiles at me. I smile back before pulling out my knife and stabbing him in his abdomen. He looks surprised. Not scared. Just surprised. Then he drops sideways creating a great red stain on the carpet. God these teenagers are so troublesome. We can't keep washing the carpets all the time. The others start screaming almost instantly. That does it. I've had enough. I had hoped they'll let me do it quietly and quickly but they keep insisting on making so much calamity. I grab the girl who is standing closest to me and hold the knife at her throat. She shuts up instantly but tears start flowing down her eyes. "Please..." she begs. "There, there," I say. "It will be over soon."

I slit her throat and drop her to the floor. Then I feel a sudden pain on my back. I turn around. A boy is standing there holding up a chair. "That hurt," I say as I walk up to him. He shouts and throws the chair at me. I duck out of the way and grab the boy's throat. My knife goes to his stomach moves downwards producing a clear red line and squirting blood and intestines all over my clothes. Now there are only three others left. A boy and two girls. I look around. A girl is trying to open the front door. She looks helpless. I walk towards her. Before I reach her a large heavy object crashes into me and I go flying across the room. I taste blood as I get to my feet. The boy and the other girl had both attacked me with a table. They were pulling the girl away into the young adult section. I smile. I love games. If that's what they wanted, then that is what they will get. And I will win.

Like a predator hunting for prey I move sniffing, snooping and searching for the three little fiends. I hear somebody run behind me. I turn around just in time to see a wave of blond hair disappear behind a book shelf. I follow. The girl is trapped in a corner. I walk in, my blade held high. Then I hear it. The creaking of wood. The sound of books sliding of a wooden surface. Before I know it the shelf on my left (along with the books arranged upon it) falls on top of me. Somebody had pushed it. While I am trapped the girl picks up my knife and holds it at my face. "D-don't make me do this," she says trying and failing to be brave. "Just open t-the door and..."

I'm not listening. The girl is standing on a book. I am lying on the floor close to it. Before she could react I grab the book and pull it out from underneath her. She loses her balance and falls. the knife lands near me. I don't hesitate. The girl only had time to utter a single syllable of surprise before I stabbed it into her skull through her left eye. Her friends rush to help her. I throw the knife at them to keep them at bay. It misses the girl but gets the boy right below his abdomen. He falls to the ground screaming in pain. The girl stops in her tracks and goes to help him. While they are distracted I escape from underneath the shelf. The girl noticing this helps the boy to his feet and retreats to the reference section. I growl in frustration. The brats have my knife. Oh well. There is no turning back now. I limp behind them trying to catch up. The boy was injured and was slowing the girl down but I am also injured so we were moving at a constant pace. When I reach the reference section the kids are nowhere to be scene. With the kids holding my knife I am utterly defenceless. I feel a sudden chill crawl upon me. I look around and see a large encyclopaedia on shelf. I pick it up on my left hand and walk on.

I cannot hear anything but I know they are there. I hold the book close to me as I walk. Suddenly a sixth sense makes me turn around and I see the girl standing less than a meter away. She thrusts the knife forward trying to finish me off. I duck out of the way and grab her hand which I proceed to break. She screams in pain and falls to the ground clutching her now useless limb. I pick up the dropped knife and go forward. The girl puts her working arm out begging me to stop. I simply pin her arm to the wall with my knife before repeatedly slapping her face with my book. Her cries and wails devolve into moans and groans. I keep slapping her with my book waiting for her to become silent. Enormous shapes of crimson appear all over my clothes, the walls and her face after each slap. She eventually ceases and drops back. I turn my book sideways and bring it down upon her face like an axe crushing her skull inwards. Her breathing stops. She is no more. Just one more pest to go. I smile. I get up leaving the book wedged in the girl's face and walk deeper into the reference section. I follow the trail of blood formed by the wounded boy and find him hiding behind some stacked book. Blood is gushing out of his wound. I look down at him and I see that he is crying. "Just get on with it," he begs. I nod and send my knife into his skull through the top. A long red streak forms upon the boy's face. I pull my knife out and wipe off all the brain and tissue.
After two hours of cleaning the library looks almost exactly like it was earlier this after noon (except maybe for the few red splotches made on the carpet and walls). I look up from the counter at the six teens sitting perfectly still at their booked table each with a book in hand. They are all silent. Not talking. Not moving. Not even breathing. Total silence. I smile. "Read on," I say and return to my book.

A bit gory I think. Or maybe not gory enough. I don't know cos this is my first short story with even this much blood. I hope you liked it...or at least grossed out by it. Anyway leave comments and thanks for reading. (Cheerio Gentlemen!)

Different People or Same Person

 Inspired by a line from "Time of The Doctor". Enjoy
***
People always find,
That there are days in which they won't know who they are,
So they will search for their identity, near and far.
Now. think about this idea, put it in your mind,
"What if you have been different people, all this time?"

In early life, you were a klutzy baby,
Later, you may have been a mischievous child,
Then perhaps a kid that would say," Pay attention to me!"
Maybe you were even a bit wild,

Then a brooding teen, and outgoing young adult,
A responsible grown-up, and then a kindly old man,
Who will comfort the kids, even if it's they're fault.
.
Because when you think about it,
In looks and demeanor, strength and brains,
Looking back on it, you have to admit,
These people were different, in all but name.

Now you may think that you are going insane,
But what if I asked you, "Maybe they are all the same?"
Maybe they were all you,
So that you could grow and change,
Because we are all different people in our lives, and that's okay,
As long as you remember them all,
as long as in your mind, they all stay,
We hope to always be confident, to always stand tall,
Hope that remember, you always may,
when they were you
And you were they.
***
Yeah, I feel as though, in retrospect, this will need some editing in the future. Tell me what you guys think, and/or what I should change.
Okay, changed it around a bit. Now, what do you guys think?

Mayflies in the Wind

This is a poem that I came up with by channeling my energies away from procrastination. Enjoy.

***
The wind blows,
Eternally, as far as we know,
Through eons of days and nights,
As lives go out, like lights.

Blowing away the ruins, the pains,
All of the marks we humans have lain.
It is the cleanser, the purifier, the sweeper,
Never in it's mighty task, does it refrain.

Does it scare you,
Does it unnerve you, when you know,
That even after you are gone,
The wind will blow,
It will blow it all away, like we are mayflies,
Except for the memories, of those who know
In their minds, they shall lie.

The wind blows,
Now and forever,
The wind will blow.
***
The first of my Life Lessons Trilogy of Poems. This was inspired by the immortal(ironically) line from Ozymandias " Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair." As it got me thinking, when we're gone, what sort of legacy will we leave behind?
Hope you guys enjoyed it!