Fantasy wasn’t always grim! It used to much more lighthearted than ALL facts put together into one fantasy collaboration. Which is exactly what’s happening in this very tale. This world. This setting. This… Well, there was once this one clan of people, who shined more than all other clans originating from the very same species who reigned as the “capital power”! An interspecies. A subspecies. Something that was greatly interwoven for many generations. Until one day, all clans became suddenly quiet. Distancing themselves from the very same who reigned as the capital power. One who merely outshined ALL the rest into complete seclusion! Doing something that was just part of their charm. Their charismatic behavior. Something that was docile (at first). Later on, showing it was entirely shameful of what they’d done too deserve whatever it was that gave them that very “capital power” to begin with. Seeing as how they control one of the most beautiful creatures that dominate the high mountain tops the world had ever looked up upon when kneeling down right at the setting foot of a monstrosity looked up to as a god! These very high mountain tops were where the most beautiful of creatures lived. Soaring higher than anything to have ever bear witness towards. A Griffin! The clan of the very species that was connected to all the other clans, are made up of the same originality! They are all related. Once. But entirely spread outward with benefits too ONLY…their own people. Their own clan. A testament to a claim willing to tear each other apart… Until there was nothing left but the once memory that echoed throughout the land. The world. Nothing but “ash” in the coming times would make this truth more fruitful than it truly appeared to be. A truth that would test this very clan that shined more brightly than all the other’s combined. The one with the so-called “capital power” would rather dethrone themselves completely! Than to give into fear of the contempt for their very actions. Something that tempts them (very much so) …. Another clan (so to speak). An enemy! Full of much more variety then the one who stood above the rest. The one (who in time) would come to be known simply… As the “Questionians”! Their very name comes from how they are a complete mystery. That may not exactly be what they essentially are called. Or refer to themselves (alone) as... Except when they do some unspeakable horror that claims witness to a crime that’d free every other clan put together (of the very same “original species” among different factions). If this exact thing actually took place, then everything would be put in complete shambles! Showing that they are the “shadow” of this very (“capital power”) clan’s democracy! A thing or force too GREATLY fear! Or else…. Or else, they would do something that would pave the groundwork for even truer fear to come about (sooner rather than later). Then what was actually taken seriously, previously. The clan that’s MOST “threatened” upon the arrival of the sudden “impending doom scenario” … Is none other than the clan known better as “the people of the Griff”! A very peaceful and agricultural people who don’t take anything out of account officially… Unless it truly meant something for them to bear witness to within their entire selves. Since there’s something very potentially “meddling” going on within these very people. First off, they keep too themselves “happily” alone. And unaided from the outside world and the rest of its (once) interconnected species that have spread out too wide to care (anymore) about coming back to the so-called “old days”. Old days when it was of the MOST prideful! Also, where the most of prime “examples” could be made and smoothed out for the better! But what the people of the Griff value even more (upon themselves directly) … Is the most beautiful creature in the land. The Griffin! A Griffin is perhaps the people of the Griff’s most prime example to the status of a mere god! The very homeland where they grow and stride and nurture their very motions upon the mountain tops that are also referred to as gods! But not to the people of the Griff…. O NO! They don’t look upon the mighty monstrosity that is their very “worshiping” deity. They worship the very creatures that live among the very tops of that very worshiping deity (that the other “separated” clans essentially worship). As time passed, they somehow were able to bind their very free will to this “blessing” that is these magnificent creatures! Binding also their very tolerances (to the Griffins itself). Just as life itself had also binded the people of the Griff (in time) to each other. Which is where the enemy comes in. The Questionians. Finally becoming “questioned” for why they’d have one of the most bizarre names for a “impending doom scenario” ever imagined! That’s because the enemy is literally questionless. They don’t have that which the people of the Griff just seem to (conveniently) have that they themselves…do not! Forcing the Questionians to claim (what they don’t have, to officially seize otherwise) for themselves…ONLY! But that was only apart of the tale that is made to be grim among ALL fantasy collaborations put together. As fantasy wasn’t always grim. Until the collapsing of a once (friendly) confrontation had already happened…long ago. Which sparked countless dangers that are totally unheard of… Until a hero was finally able to rise up above ALL others and risk the very land the people of this world breathed truthfully for themselves and themselves…alone! A hero who would (in due time) come about changing all specifics in a world that was once wholesome. Now it’s just a teetering land on the brink of war! War that was (more specifically) a mere illusion made to justify an even worse crime made to happen. The war effort was just a downplayed diversion not really bright for “comfort” itself to take rather seriously! However, the hero who’d come to truly redefine the locals of this land and its very world back into (seemingly) “ceremonial” times… Is a young man named “Salivardt”. Who apparently, is a member of the people of the Griff. Accompanied by the strongest heroine that would be this hero’s “go-getters” type guidance. Her name was that of the very feisty “Fabian”! Who has a very mysterious past (that is said: to be hinted at being a member of that very questionless clan group)? One who is on the brink of utter disorder from also (within themselves). And together, they would reach a very “breaking point” of how each of their very destinies “securely” …come together. (And how “linear” it must seem…) Would literally reintroduce the once (“interconnected”) state that each clan of the same species once shared. ALL coming back together into one singular species! Introducing a global front that is a respectful… “unifying whole”!

The odour of the dandelion spin
raves nonexistence as the train wheels brim:
with a speed as mesmerizing and encapsulating
as hollow tin.
The mind is temporarily frozen with pleasure,
spatially driven with west-headed pressure.
It is questionless; it is speechless...
It is only mildly, yet surely aware of its presence.
And so: ride is what it loves.
Ride is what I shall her give.

Gold is your soul


The drive there will be boring.
The arrival so momentous!
The disappointing greeters;
The sights not quite as expected.
The smell at times will be rancid.
The art of it all will be lost.
They will say “Welcome to The City of Romance!”
As you sip your hot coffee, whilst you worry about the cost,
Or getting lost…


…as you take in the views you will realise you have been left behind.
Nobody said anything; you were forgotten, not for the first time.
So you rush off to find the tail at the back of the line
And as you return to the flock, unnoticed by all except one,
You will relax once more and at last notice the sunshine…


…the noise of it all will not be music to your ears.
The occasional cliché will ride by unknown to you,
As you are so deeply engrossed in your list of fears,
Of not being what they expect you to be;
Or not enjoying or appreciating what they did;
Or not feeling what they expect you to feel…
What exactly is it this place is meant to make you feel?


Your heart will sink, as you begrudgingly sip your cold coffee drink
And the clouds will arrive overhead.  Merci!
Others will continue to talk,
As you walk hand in hand with your silence,
Through all the streets
And all the halls
And all the endless corridors,
Until you have nothing left…


…as you pass through the musicians like the spirit of winter,
All the accordion’s and violins will call out “Come back!”
Your soul will only paint a black and white photo,
Of a woman alone, in the cold of the night, street lights shining black.
Smoke rising from her cigarette holder and aging her beauty,
Death is called The Taker.
She smiles as The Joker;
She has become The Wrinkler.
Now her make up is running,
Her lipstick has been smeared,
You are staring into the reflection of a puddle,
With frizzy hair all around you,
Wishing just one person,
Somebody!
Anybody!
Was near.


All you will hear are the tears in their voices,
As they whisper their stories; their stories of love,
From beneath the branches of the boulevard of broken dreams.
All you will hear are the peace breaking shouts and screams
And the sound of old cars as their tires screech.
Real people in a real place with their own busy lives to lead.
This is not the Disneyland you imagined;
This is no place you asked to be.
Lost is the face of the love you hoped to meet.
Where do you find your own Rene?


At long last you arrive at the galleries
And further still will ride the disappointment,
As the Mona does not affect you, as they say “It does!”
But it doesn’t.
You think it is nice.  They will say “It is magnifique!”
You don’t think it is…
And you will continue as they speak only ‘their mind’;
Still never speaking, you casually pass on by
And leave Mona to all the tourists.
You are the only purist.


You will not speak your truth because the truth is not heard.
All they hear are ‘their words’.
‘Their words’, without the feeling;
Just ‘their words’, without the hearing,
Which have all been said a thousand times or more before.
There is no more original…
Thought…


But then as you sit there alone eating a beget you brought for lunch,
You will at last find some peace and quiet.
Everyone else will have gone away to discover their own loves;
Their pictures within pictures,
Which they will all duplicate;
So trying.
Second rate, after second rate, after second rate,
But wait!…


…you put your food down, eyes glued to the image ahead.
You will rise to your feet, you will squint your eyes,
Just to be sure; just to be questionless.
But you will still be unable to truly see,
So forwards you will go.
Forwards into the unknown;
Carried along on feet of uncertainty.


Only video eyes watching you forget your phone.
It could have been stolen!
But it rests next to the broken bread.
All concerns have evaporated;
Shot away from your apple head,
For you have seen something nobody else has ever seen,
Within the lines of a Rene Magritte painting
And it is yours.


This moment,
This time,
This feeling has left you agog!
Unable to write anything without consequence in an artificial blog.
Unable to use the What’s-app-messenger-application,
For you have become lost in the spirit of the master craftsman
And the muses in your head are all a-dance!
And chants can be heard, so you pick up your chalk.
Go on take a chance!


So with metamorphosis and the possession of your artistic soul,
You create your own master piece…

…as the silent smiles cast their eyes over its beauty,
You simply say its name is,
‘Gold is your soul.’
It is the perfect reminder of that which you wished to know…

Aren’t you glad you went?
Tell me, what did you see?


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.