BATTLECRY

i've had my share of Falls

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Life is but a journey. Every journey is a unique one upon itself. The paths that meandered through out the destined routes are full o' the unknown joys or horrors which litter the non treaded paths. Some individuals will both trip and fall upon the rocky strewn pathways without ever lifting a tear stained facade from the barren ways that they have partaken. They are the ones whom are determined to wallow and decay in their own despicable misery, praying that each day will end as quickly as it began. Then there are others whose ways are that o' a smooth ride having everything hand fed to them with that of an intricate silver spoon. Without any cares that can evoke painful memories...yes we would argue that the easy ride is naught always the best. It has to be said that most things would be taken for granted and the everyday flavor o' life would become bland on the tongue o' individuality.
Then there is the life o' this dark, eerie shadow. That eternal lingering darkness that haunts the backgrounds o' memories and the present lives of those whom approach he. That memory, that shadow that bears no light, called Battlecry Forever. There are some that ponder whether this inkling creature possesses a worldly soul. Or whether his DNA consists of the shrouding darkness that engulfs any amount o’ joy or happiness. You see, Battlecry knows not of gentle eyes, a soft gentle word o’ praise or blissfulness, or even the love of another. Emotions are eternal waters that have yet to be tasted and as is that four letter word of everlasting spring of love. Battles, harsh flung words and the incessant demands that one’s sire laid upon Battlecry. His life was that once of a marauder whom murder and ransack the lives o’ the ones that comment sin against his sires gang o’ hellions. But every day, every life weighed heavily on the conscious mind of him. He was expected to enjoy and continue to wreck havoc onto innocent lives. Soon, his dreams became nightmares and his reality became despicable which brought forth his rebellion against his father. Thus sending him into exile, a maunder that flitted from past to present, from land to land. Until that fated day where he stumbled upon the valley of Hope and the residents that presided within its boundaries.


Not many know of his long faded past….actually there is not one that knows of it. Battlecry keeps the past just as it is the past. Only allowing the bittersweet memories to intoxicate his cranium in fleeting glimpses. Nasal cavities expanded to inhale various scattered scents of the known and some unidentified. His haunted orbs roamed unreservedly across the undulating plains and scattered hilltops. He saw two distant figures though from his current position it was quite impossible to identify them. But Battlecry had an eerie feeling that larger frame of the two was the stallion Vegas. His attention quickly surpassed the far-off equines to the meandering palomino mare.
Battlecry watched the languid movement of the cranium as the two bodies connected with eye contact. It was for a moment a staring contest and to top it off it literally was stare for stare. How ironic. What is it that you see? Will your glance just that a glance? Or perhaps you will be of the few whom have the ability to see beyond the darkness. At first glance and first thoughts most would direct towards brooding and lacking in wit. Disregarding this handsome, chapel of raven to being unworthy of time and words. But you see this is what we desire. Then most would miss the spark o’ intelligence that would briefly simmer in the usual dark, endless voids. There he stood in a quiet self assurance within the flickering darkness.