The Departure

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a Poem Story that deals with an event that hits close to home.

Submitted: December 29, 2019

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 29, 2019



There is a beautiful girl standing on the black floor by the avenue of darkness. Her hair is flowing in gold and maiden fair in the valley of the black maiden mass that people go every year with ales that are sincere. The cloaks are all in black as the cats play along the sidewalk cracks when the marquee plays The Village of the Damned. The one that holds the power of wizardly prevails is the man named Carney Masalles who is the owner of this town that looks out towards the black of the town with the sun that rose red. People go to the cemetery and play chess next to the buried coffins of their ancestors that are now dead. The woman in golden hair that is fair looks at the watch on her forearm in despair as the hour is ten as the morning is time before lunch in sin. The wine flows from ancient hands as the people in black clothes play croquet and badminton with the prowess that they wish they can win when the sun burns red in the land that is tinseled in red.

The town is pending for the winds of winter to come. That is truth when the Gothic Children play the most when the lights never wills in the town of sin, casting black magic in the winds like an infection that may soon fight and win. The woman in gold with hair that is fair soon will recollect when she looked at her watch again next to the bus stop that is colored in black and is chilled with sin. She waited for the storm to leave after the feel of the rain departed from this madness of black when Mr. Masalles sees past the events that are wicked in sin. He came from the throne of the power of authority that holds when the woman in gold with the hair that is maiden fair can feel the presence of Mr. Masalles before the shadows of his sultry image came to her next to her shoulder that is close by arm’s length.

The woman in gold turned when she glowered at the black eyes of Mr. Masalles that hold the evils of black magic when he asked:

“Where are you going dear with that look that is absurd and weird?”

The woman in gold thought of something with haste and with grace when she shuffled her feet upon the sidewalk. She continued to look into the eyes of black when she cocked her head in truth of what she is going to say.

“I am going away from this place to find truth with nothing in my place.”

Mr. Masalles smiles at the girl with golden locks for her hair, praying for her in a thousand languages that he learned from his longing time in many worlds that she cannot ever witness in her lifetime.

“Why that you fear with all that is near of friends that you hold so dear?”

The woman flashed disapproval at her feet that are upon the sidewalk when she looked up at the mage that is waiting for an answer that she did not answer right away.

“I am in tears for nothing matters to me here. I have to find truth beyond the black and truth from the depression that holds me near with the wickedness of the sharpness that cuts my lifeline to the point that I can no longer suffice.”

Mr. Masalles dropped his gaze and felt the tugging of something in his chest like a mating of crickets in his heart that parted ways.

“I thought you belong with us here, giving good nature to the ones that are lost in tears?” Mr. Masalles questioned her principles when the woman of golden hair stood strong with her back straight and never slouching still.

“I have to go. They will find their ways. I can only meet them halfway in their pain that is so plain. I cannot help the cursed ones that have cursed themselves.”

Mr. Masalles knows she has a point when she waited for the bus that is rickety and rusty, finicky and crusty, whimsy and dusty to the town that have never seen a bus that is so unlike the town that is cloaked in black when the children play in a cemetery next to a marking stone by the name of, “Wilma Gustove” who died at the age of ninety nine in her soup with the bottle of wine that is next to her dine. The woman with golden hair cannot contend to the horrors that are aware and unfair in the town that is so black, holding black masses that are tacky shellac in the hours that casts on in the early morning hours where whippoorwills plays their songs in the dark.

“Is that so?” Mr. Masalles replied with woe.

“Then there is no trouble to fear in the world that is held in your hand so clear. We all have to shed from the darkness that is enfolded in our trends. Some beings like the thrills but you are not damaged in wills.” Mr. Masalles shrugged when he waited for the bus with the woman with golden hair when she came closer, almost wanting to hug Mr. Masalles that is so gentle and dear. He is not a bad wizard and he has done good in the land of this land with the people that have seen darkness in the land of human grace, twisted in the madness of personal waste to the point that madness is all in space.

Mr. Masalles moved his hand up and felt the need to hug her when he stopped and dropped his hand down next to his waist when the bus came in amble haste.

This is my daughter and daughters are in need of something more. This is my daughter so make sure the world treats her well and keeps her good without someone taking advantage of her. I hope to god someone does not take advantage of her.

Mr. Masalles looked at his daughter when he raised his arm up to hug her when she came near into his arms and he moved it around her shoulder, holding her tight from the fright of the world that can twist her if the moment is not alright.

“I will pray for you.” Mr. Masalles kissed her on her forehead when the woman with golden hair that is the name of Nina Masalles hugged him still when the bus stopped in front of the bus stop squeaked its brakes and stopped in front of the marquee of the bus stop.

“Thank you for all that you done.” Nina spoke this when she departed on the bus and left this town that is cloaked in black.

The wizard continued to watch as the bus rode away, being left in the town of black next to Canasta Bay when the children continued to play in the cemeteries that are dark and red with the sun that is high in the land that is wicked and dead.

What am I to do now? Mr. Masalles wondered when he turned from the pavilion of the bus stopped and walked down the sidewalk with his hands in his duster jacket that is long and black when two children in black came to him, asking for candy when Mr. Masalles knelt down and offered them candy with a smile pursed on his lips.

It was a good day in the land that is dark and dead. It is a good day.

© Copyright 2020 Adam Steele. All rights reserved.

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