Deaths call
By: Shelby Yanzer,


Vanished, the snake ready to strike.
A burst of flame in from the five statues.
“ Look out” he shouted.
Jet of green light and snake had struck.
Swooped opened,
the jet of green light burst into flames.
Fell to the floor flightless.
The snake sinking it’s fangs into him,
Vanished in a wisp of dark smoke.
A few seconds only as dark,
Shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth.
Struggling he was gone, water fell with a crash.
Master sure it was over, decide to flee.
For the first time frightened.
The hall was quite empty, sobbing,
still trapped feebly on the floor.
Then, he was dead, pain beyond imagining.
He was gone.


Red eyes that did not know end,
They were bound by pain, and there was no escape.
“**** me now” blinded and dying, every part,
Screaming for release, “if death is nothing”,
Let the pain stop, Let him **** us, end it.
As the creature was lying face down on the floor,
There were voices, through the hall,
More voices then there should have been,
Opened his eyes, now lay flat on his back,
He could not hold his head,
The floor reflected the emerald green flames,
From all the fireplaces along the wall,
Pulled himself back to his feet,
He was there, spun around, he could hear footsteps.
Death came running to join them.
Death was surging into the room,
She had slid over its surface, lay sprawled on the floor,
And then she ran at him although he dodged,
He sprinted back up the room and was safe,
Momentarily frozen by death,
In spite to watch for a moment.


Suspended in mid-air, what looked like objects flew,
Like rolls of film, what would happen.
He was sure it would not be anything good,
He darted, already caught by his outstretched hands.
The thin ribbons were spinning around,
He tugged and tore at them, tight against him.
Trying to sever the eyes, they would not break,
Thrashing against his bonds,
Immobilized, a jet of red light flew from death,
Hit her in the face, now sideways unconscious,
The oncoming death.
But nothing happened,
death shot at him missing him by inches.
Two left fighting, death shot silver streams of like like arrows



In the same slow voice, she was both foreign,
confused at him and muttered,
Resort to crude sign language. Turning back flustered.
Pleasure for violence, anxious now, death and bad omens.
Didn’t understand, did not answer, writing her last note,
Silence, loss to understand, fury in her eyes now.
Your awful, struggling, ringing to understand.
Tears in her eyes, her answer was no,
And he had tried to act as though he had not heard deaths call.

I was my fathers prized possession. The finest piece of pottery He had ever crafted.
He worked on me until His hands were pruned.. Until the smell of clay seemingly became His scent. He molded and molded until I was perfect. In His eyes.
He placed me on the top shelf and marveled at me every day and every night.
But His neighbor was overcome with jealousy... At how I glistened at the top of the mantle. At how I gleamed in the sun in all the right places.
You see, on the top of his shelf, lay nothing but dust.
So surely, I had to be destroyed.
In the thick of the night, he stole me off of the mantle and marveled at my greatness.
He brought me back to his place and stuck me in the darkest of rooms.
So that light would never be able to shine on me again.
He spun me on his fingers, no delicacy in his touch.
He tossed me up and down, mocking my beauty.
Day after day I was plagued with the imminent thought of destruction.
Overridden with depression.
I cried out to my potter, and when the thief heard, he ran into the dark room and bellowed "no one will help you", picked me up, and threw me against the ground.
Pieces of me shattered in every direction, strewn against the floor of the enemies house.
My insides, corrupted with sin from all the time collected in this place were brought forth.
All I could hear was the wicked laugh taunting me, exclaiming  "who could love you now"?
Then suddenly a light shone in my face, something I hadn't seen in years.
Every broken piece of me looked up and saw my potters face, with tears rolling down his cheeks.
He began to pick me up in an attempt to put me back together...
Abba!! I cried! Your fingers! They will bleed!
My daughter, he replied, I have one  hole in each of my hands!! My love for you has endured much more than a few scratches upon my fingertips!
He continued to piece me back together, not missing a beat, not missing a piece.
He shielded me from the looking eyes of judgement, bearing the stripes on His back for leverage.
Abba!! I cried out again, can't you see all of the sin that filled me?! I am no longer perfect! How can you love me?
I understand your sin, my daughter!  in it, my grace is perfected! You are my creation, you are my reason! Upon making you whole again, I will not put back your transgressions!
He finalized the touches, not missing one piece.
He wiped my face, not missing one tear.
He renewed my heart, not missing one beat.
He carried me back home and presented me in His name to his Father.
Took His seat upon His throne and placed me on the mantle, right by His side, letting his glory shine on me.
He smiled and said "welcome home, my daughter, welcome home."