Mythical creatures
Majestic and wise.
Beautifull colours,
Fire breathing wonders.
Soaring and dipping,
Diving and swinging.
Magical Beasts,
Old and wise,
Better than us, yet
Seen as a prize.
(c) Sam Webster
This story has been fully voice-acted. Scroll to the description for the audio.
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...And here I am, walking up these large stone steps. Climbing up them, literally, as they were not made for humans to traverse. I would have been tired of ascending them each day, if not for the fact that I was no longer human. You see, I am what they call a Dragon Hunter. I happened to be one from the icy north and as such, this entire army of armour-clad Templars brought me along to exterminate the demon dragon that was said to plague these frost-bitten mountains.
The Icy Peaks of Teruel, or so they called them. Really they were just a collectio
And here the dragon weeps
In highest spires and depths of earth
For all kins lost,
Slain in names of truth and chivalry
For all skies lost to soar,
Claimed by mortals too afraid of things unknown
And here the dragon weeps
Unseen, unheard
Where Be Dragons?
'Here Be Dragons'
The old maps do proclaim,
Terra Incognita
Places beyond name.
Far over teeming, turbulent, ocean swells
Be lands of magic and mystic fable
Where all of dream's strange bestiary dwells
And where may exist the supernatural.
And from thence come glorious, fabulous tales
Sagas of sorcery and great, sweeping quests,
Legends of treasures, artefacts of vast power
Discovered in hidden, death-guarded, chests.
There are shining places of a beauty beyond dreams
And harsh regions of danger, nightmarish and cursed.
Ancient ruins cast shadows, as shining cities stand tall,
And knights may do battle as th
In my dreams I ride on dragons
Of fire and dew, blood-red
And pure white. In my dreams
I have the confidence to love my body,
But this is dream-shown in the way I flaunt it
And in the way They want it
As They want others. I am
Not the stunted one, second-best with the speech impediment.
I do not compete endlessly with those
Of the bee-stung lips, fragile bones sliding
Smoothly under untainted skin. My dragons and I,
We soar through clouds made of the souls lost
To the soul-less. Our sun is hidden beyond
The mountains in the distance. Those tall towers
With words carved into them,
Words I cannot read from this distance. We
fly
Dragons still exist.
They're still out there. They hide from us. They don't really need to, as we live too fast to notice them. But they still hide from us, just to make sure.
You see, they like observing us. We interest them unendingly. They love simply hovering over an open mall, or following someone at a distance for a short while. At night, they return to their clan home and tell the other dragons what they have seen. Gossip, if you will. If you're interesting enough to them you might have a whole family silently watching you.
If a dragon likes you, it will protect you from physical harm- a big jump to the sidewalk from the middle of a
A creature of myth,
Or so many believe-
They fill fairytales,
Novels,
And haunts the past.
It's fierce eyes,
Gazing upon you,
staring into your being-
It's fiery breath,
The stench of lost souls-
Dried blood upon its talons,
A victim of the past-
The dragon's burning heart,
Driving his wings-
To spread his will-
To soar through the sky,
claiming it as his own-
The creatures driven,
By they're own being.
A Morbid Little Sing-Song by CindarellaPop, literature
Literature
A Morbid Little Sing-Song
Old Father Red
Killed the queen in her bed
And her head rolled 'cross the floor,
Then held her son and her daughter
Both under the water
Until they argued no more.
A damned soul
In a china bowl
Does to make the flavors mild
In the fish chowder,
Though it cries rather louder
Than the dam of a missing child.
A human skull
Is better full
Of buttons than of brains,
Some prefer feathers
It depends whether
The skull is a gent's or a dame's.
A dead man's ashes,
And cat's eye-flashes,
And the loop of a hangman's noose,
With peach marmalade
Would make a good trade
For a pair of glass eyes in chartreuse.
Fairly morbid Jingle Bells by hybridia, literature
Literature
Fairly morbid Jingle Bells
Dashing through the snow,
Knocking people down,
If they get back up,
Whack them to the ground!!
Blood and guts go splat,
Everyone goes 'eeww',
Then we all just carry on,
Until we start to spew!!
Surfing through the blood,
On a mostly-eaten sheep,
Sitting in its guts,
Hear Berny go 'Meep'!!
Lots of intestines,
Burn them, make them bright!
What fun it is to slosh and dance,
In sheepy guts tonight!
OH!!
Sloshy guts! Sloshy guts!
Watch Berny go 'Meep'!!
Oh, what fun it is to surf,
On a mostly eaten sheep!
OH!!
Sloshy guts! Sloshy guts!
Watch Berny go 'Meep'!!
Oh, what fun it is to surf,
On a mostly eaten sheep!!!
a fairy tale for the morbid by kalahie, literature
Literature
a fairy tale for the morbid
There was a young girl
who grabbed on to a squirel
and propmpty fell down a well
when she hit the ground
she looked around
and wondered if she was in hell
to her great surprise
and the squirels sad demise
t'was a black cat that answerd
he ate up the squirel
smiled at the girl
said"nope" and burst into laughter
but then the cats eyes
buldged open wide
and he starteds to heave
see the squirel inside
hants quite died
and he was really quite peeved
that cat started to hurl
and out came that squirel
fur all stick and wet
the cat was quite shocked
the squirel was pissed off
and he had revenge still to get