The tale of Dasan

Gather round all those who want to hear a tale from long ago. a Short tale filled with mystery, bravery and sorrow…

 

You see this tale starts in the snowy mountains somewhere in north america, where winters grew ever more frightening as the snows began to fall and the rivers began to freeze over. The lived a small tribe of native people there and though their names are scratched from history the old legend still remains till this day. there was a man named Dasan. He was the only son of the widowed Nuka, the spirit guide of the tribe. They had lived on the far edges of the settlement and rarely intervened with the village for you see they had a dark secret.

 

Inside of Dasan lived two horrible beasts. these beasts became known as Wapi and Seke, the twin wolves. Their story can be found all throughout the world and as mostly known as Yin and Yang. They were born alongside the boy under a bloodied red moon in the late hours when the stars marked and dotted the skies like fireflies. Dasan had been kept secret from the village and he had sworn to his mother that he would never set foot inside. Trespassers came and went from time to time but Dasan was never found until…

 

One day while he was picking spiritual herbs from their garden for his coming of age he heard a strange sound coming from the riverbank. He had sworn to his mother that he would never seek out any trespassers and that he would remain a secret however, he had spent countless moments of his life only ever peering through the thick shrubbery at unwelcome wanderers and he had gotten lonely. He had never known anyone other than his mother and he barely remembered his father and so as any hormone crazed teenager with a disdain for boredom he went off to investigate.

 

On that faithful day, Dasan had seen the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes upon. Her name was Chenoa and she was the famed daughter of the chieftain. She and some of her other maidens had decided that on that very day they would disobey the chieftains wishes and wandered off into the wilderness. Unknown to them, they had gotten lost and had no way to retrace their steps. Everything appeared the same for miles and their only rescue was the strong and proud river.

 

Dasan knew he couldn’t let this oppertunity go, He had never met anyone apart from his own mother and he had never seen another woman, let alone one as gorgeous as Chenoa. He noticed his heart wanting to tear from his chest and he was sweating arrows. This reminded him of the time his mother took him hunting for the first time when he had shot down his first deer in the mists of summer. He remembered his mothers words from that day: “don’t fear, fear my son, it is your weapon…your ally.”

 

He had already decided to walk up to the maidens and introduce himself and so he did. He kept his mothers words in his mind and saw only his goal. Chenoa noticed him walking towards them as did the others. Being the daughter of a chieftain they knew no one would dare touch her however Dasan was unaware of the customs. He swore he saw the maidens smile for a second before they turned towards Chenoa, asking her what to do next. I am no linguist but I imagine that their conversations where less than formal and immensely awkward the moment Dasan arrived. The maidens did not know where they were and so they trusted Dasan to lead them safely back to the village, they had no other choice.

 

Dasan had never been to the village but needless to say he didn’t mention that small detail for he wanted to be of help and at best, impress Chenoa with his heroic actions. At this time, the beasts inside of him where stirring out of control. They fed on his emotion and knew when he was weak, so at the moment that they met the wolves had their very first taste of lust. He had bravely led them away from the river along the path he always saw his mother disappear on when she had went to the village for much-needed supplies. He didn’t know this path however and soon he also found himself lost.

 

The legend says that they spent days living off of the forest floor, Dasan knew how to hunt, forage and cook so he could easily satiate the needs of the maidens. They knew he was lost but they had no other way of finding the village and as some accounts go, they even remained because Chenoa had stared to sleep ever closer to Dasan in the cold nights. Dasan definitely had strong feelings for the chieftains daughter but if she felt the same still remains a mystery till this very day. One night as the night grew colder than ever Chenoa had been seen laying with Dasan, staring at the stars. They had stayed up after all the other maidens where asleep in their own rugged shelter. That night you could hear the sounds of war drums and the smell of sweat had filled the forest canopy.

 

If she didn’t feel anything for Dasan before, she definitely did that night. The next morning they had set out again as days turned into weeks, they finally saw smoke in the early hours of the morning coming from the horizon. They had finally found the village but this had instilled no happiness in either Dasan or Chenoa, for you see the night that they had gotten lost was a wedding festival as she was to be wedded to the war masters eldest the next day. Chenoa had never spoken about this to Dasan before and as the maidens ran for towards the village many villagers came to see their return.

 

Dasan had never set foot inside the village before, and like moths to flame the villagers were attracted to him harboring suspicion and anger. “Who is this man” they cried out. “Did he kidnap the chieftains daughter?” someone yelled from among the crowd. The Chieftain hurried to the scene along with his War mater and the War masters eldest son. Dasan had finally figured it out, but it was too late when he saw this man embrace the one he learned to love. The beasts inside where rising up into his throat, and he had given the final victory to the Black wolf Seke. Rage had filled his heart when he hear that man call Chenoa his beloved wife and Dasan lost control of the beasts inside of him.

 

His flesh began to tear from his body as he turned into a vile great wolf. The creature he had become had fur darker than the night sky and eyes engulfed in flames. He had charged the war masters son and in a bloody fit ripped open the chest of the man. After the black beast Seke had a taste for blood he couldn’t stop. He began to devour everyone he saw as the warriors all tried and failed to kill Dasan, now Seke. In his stupor He didn’t realize that he had killed everyone in the village and when he came to, he stared into the lifeless eyes of Chenoa, the only person he had ever loved. He killed her! He killed everyone!

 

That day, Dasan was no more, and Seke was born anew. They say you can still hear Seke cry in the lonely hours of the night for his love Chenoa before his hunt. He will never be forgiven and some say the gods cursed him to walk the earth untill another could learn to love him, Seke the beast, for the man Dasan was no more. His mother never saw him again and some say that she prayed to the gods for weeks going without food or drink and eventually died of starvation and cold.

 

This was a sad tale, but a tale I think we can all learn from. We all have our own two beasts inside of us, and who you feed the most, the one you give the most attention to will always win. Dasan never got to know Wapi, what of you fellow reader? Will you find Wapi, or give in to Seke like Dasan did?

 

Thank you for your time

~Blacksheep

 

 

 

 

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Utopia

To realize your future, you must forget your past…

 

What is a perfect future? What makes a utopia? a Synonym for utopia is “heaven” now I want you to take a moment to think about that. a Utopia is an imagined place where everything is bliss, perfect in every way. Imagine a world with no wars, no disease or no pollution. Imagine that you have finally found your utopia.

You see, I have found my utopia, how you may ask? I have found it through many harsh trials and devastating mistakes but I eventually reached it. I am by no means a profit here to show you my utopia, I am simply here telling you this because I want you to find yours. Now im no fool, I know this isn’t utopia, this isn’t heaven or near paradise. I know there are still things like cancer killing millions, 163 people out of every 100 000 per year to be precise and I know of  the climbing suicide rate in our youth. There is so much this world is missing, still so much evil.

 

However, I found my utopia through people like Josh Worley, a 14-year-old teenager who founded his own radio station to help other unemployed youngsters gain enough experience and knowledge about the world to help them when they leave school.

Or Sarah Phillips, a 17-year-old whose mother tragically died of cervical cancer and after posting a video to Youtube where in she sang Paolo Nutini’s “autumn”, she helped raise over $560000 for research into cervical cancer. These like many more inspired me to find my utopia, my perfect world and it’s thanks to them that I have.

 

It pains me to know that I will never be able to physically see my utopia but I’ve found it, in the next generation, in our youth and I know that they all carry the same vision of a perfect world in their hearts. So lets stop imagining a utopia and let’s be inspired by these teenagers and help them help us create our own perfect world. Lets forget about our past, about all the wars and racism and so many other plights and lets look forward through the eyes of our children. Lets pave a way for them to reach Utopia.

Poetry Submissions

Hey guys!

 

So these last few days I’ve been thinking….I love poetry and finding the message and emotion conveyed in the poems and stories. I still however need to work on my own poems since they are not really of the best quality, I have been focusing too much on emotion and less the message and I’ve found that sometimes the emotion within the poems hides the entire message so:

I have come up with an idea that some may consider being lazy or whatever but it will give me time to practice and show off many new and interesting writings as well as feature the talents of people.

Poetry submissions! I will have an “about” page set up by the time your reading this where my email address will be located and you can send poetry or any form of writing there and I will upload them here! I may not have the most traffic and I have myself to blame since I haven’t really invested too much in this blog page but I will try to “improve” the site however I can in the near future. Anyway I’m going off on a tangent…

 

Bye guys and thanks you!

~Blacksheep

Connecting Dots

 

Quietly she sits, watching the door,

She can’t fight this fear anymore.

Clawing at her heart and soul,

She’s never been less whole.

 

Tears snake a path through dust,

This is the shadow of broken trust.

As fingers feverishly trace lines,

Connecting dots in broken minds..

 

Marks form on broken skin,

Knowing this is forbidden, sin.

But not knowing how to stop, or why,

So there’s no more reason to try.

 

Quietly she watches the door,

Her soul bloodied, bruised and sore.

Silence takes over, runs through her spine,

And she knows she’ll never be fine…

 

By Nadine

Always so fine

 

Everyone is always so fine,

Always pretending to be okay.

Saying we’re simply tired,

When we’ve had a bad day.

 

Too scared to come out,

Afraid the balance might fall,

Too afraid to risk getting close,

So you build up another wall.

 

Sadly, as you fall to pieces

Your soul shreds apart,

Someone is somewhere struggling,

Trying to get to your heart.

 

But we’re always oh so fine,

Pretending to be so okay,

A simple smile, and a shrug…

Might take the eyes away.

 

by Nadine

 

 

Authors note: Hey guys, (the few who care) I have been quite busy nowadays in keeping my grades up and handing in my projects on time and I haven’t really had any time to invest too much into the site and I apologize for that, here are 3 new poems to indulge yourselves in…I think I’m improving little by little on my rhyming skills so I expect better content in the near future…

On a more serious note; I would personally like to apologize to Nadine, I’m sorry that I haven’t been uploading your content more frequently and I promise to upload you other 4 poems within the next few days… rest assured I haven’t forgotten about you or your amazing poetic talents and thanks for giving me of all people the privilege to upload them.

Thanks everyone!

Blacksheep

Mourning routine

 

Who am I in there?

 

The clouded room obscures my vision

the warmth of a million needles piercing my skin

Breathing a breath of moisture,

and exhaling ice, our eyes meet for the first time.

“Its up to you” :they told me

“Life only comes once” :they said

 

My heart started to pound rapidly:

 

I’m my chest,

the stress compressed my lungs

with intent to express my process of procrastinating

every single recess my mind needed to repress

the regrets I have never expressed and finally confess

my undying interest in your non-existing existence!

The sweat starts to accumulate over and around my cold body.

 

My mind starts to drift once again…

Trying to understand consciousness,

and like a life lived lovingly

a smile trickles on my face without warning.

 

and so I asked him;

“Who are you in there?”

Dear future me

I hope you’re doing well,

My life at this time:

Is a machine that I feed every day

Constantly constituting every moment

This machine,

is missing one single component.

 

You see for its not YOU or ME

It’s us and who we were meant to be

See this world, this reality…

It’s just a

Cage that holds us binds us       constantly

I hope you’re the person mum always wanted to see

And I know that to face this wicked world

You must think like YOU and have the right     mentality

 

I wish I could see where you stand now…

If you got the coffee shop you promised me,

Or found someone who I was too afraid to meet

I hope you got over my anxiety and finally learned

the proper way for homo-sapiens to greet!

 

Otherwise life here is great!

I’ve got food and shelter and I dare say a loving family,

Please go visit them next weekend for me.

Tell them that I owe them an apology

An apology for everything that I have or haven’t done

All the things I may or may not have said.

 

I beg of you to look them dead in the eyes

And tell them that I love them

Tell them that you are their biggest prize

Tell them how thankful we are

For their hard work,

Be it beating me or helping to heal my deepest scar

 

Because if your reading this

It’s up to you now, for the boy who wrote this…

Is finally gone

Episode 2

Episode 2

“Thirty Three.”

 

Hearing those words Josh instinctively knew that this seemed a bit strange, he had been here several times and not once has he seen the good doctor within twenty yards of a cigarette. Standing up from the squishy red coach to feel the cold of the earthy tiles beneath his bare feet. “Just one second doc, gotta stretch out the old bones am I right?” he delivers with the smile of a serial killer. With his grey eyes piercing the back of the doctors head he counts silently every individual strands of black hair he could see in the dark room. He continued to place his left foot forward merely an inch from the coffee table in front of him. He slowly makes his way to the door and places his right hand on the upper hinge. “Doc, can you spare a fag?” Josh asked. “Let us get to the smoking area first, then we’ll talk.” Doc Deumon replied.

*He’s lying! He doesn’t smoke! Here’s a better thought Josh; Why don’t you take the little metallic pen to your left on the wooden bookshelf? Think of all the things you could do with such a simple and unassuming tool! Like, like… write a very strongly worded note to the good doctor here? Or maybe ruin all the paintings of the narcissistic prick? Or just take it, its one of his most prized possessions after all, just to spite the bugger!*

“Well doc, shall we?” Josh noted with an eerie tone. Doctor Deumon steps out of the room as Josh counted each step he took: “one, two, three, four…” he silently whispered to himself as they where slowly passing through the obnoxiously long corridor. Here were no windows, no decoration like paintings or pot-plants. The area appeared to be almost industrial, with white walls and white tiles, accompanied by a sharp light fastened to the ceiling painted white. They eventually arrived at a metal  elevator door that had been polished just moments before. Josh’s counting had been halted by his own reflection in the shiny metal door. He noticed how the so-called rags hung from his shoulders and how his sharp silver hair had grown to cover his ears. The door opened with a mechanical hiss and the sounds of hydraulics.

“Thirty-two, thirty-three, it took him thirty-three steps to the elevator today.”

 

To be continued…

 

 

Episode 1

Episode 1

“I had a Good life then”

 

“I’ve had this, voice for as long as I can remember. Its been following me around and i just can’t shake it. Doc, I know you’re just trying to help but I don’t see the point to all this, I’ve told you the story a hundred times over and still you persist on asking for this stupid…ughh!” Josh looks around the room, noticing shades of green and hazel brown, the walls littered with painted trees all in a soft silver tone. It always made him feel slightly at ease being in the forest near his home town so the nature, even if fake nature, made him feel a bit more at home here. “I know your frustrated Joshua but we need to go over this until you understand what you are saying, this memory of yours, lets take it from the top shall we?  This is the only way I can help…and you can help yourself.” Dr. Deumon inclined as he scribbled the pen on a sheet of paper, Josh calls it the Doc’s black book. The candle light flickers as a gentle breeze wisps into the room. The Doctor sees the curtains flurry with the passing of the winds and decides to move to the window to close it up. ” Fine Doc, whatever you say. It started when i was young, very young about five or six….”

 

My mother, she came home from her usual shopping that evening, i remember it as if it where yesterday. She was wearing her yellow dress she always whore on Sundays before we went to church. Father wasnt home yet, he usually took off on the weekends to go fishing or something but he was normally home by now. Mother hadn’t heard from him since he left on friday morning after his night shift however she was still stunting a warm and casual smile, acting as if nothing was wrong. I can’t even remember if we had went to church that day or not but i can clearly remember coming home only to see my fathers, friends car in our driveway. I think his name was Grant, or maybe Garrett, I knew him as uncle Jim, or that’s what mum always called him: “little Jim.” he was waiting on our porch wearing the same old camo baseball hat and his red work shirt but this time he had a sour expression on his face. I always picture him as a jolly, happy to live type but that day, was completely different.

 

I looked over to mum, at first i thought she was happy but then i saw her eyes turn bloodshot red! She slammed the gas and before i knew it our car had jumped over a few brick stairs and crashed into the window, or maybe it was just the small Porcelain angel doll mother had gotten as a gift from Gran? I was like five, you can’t expect me to remember the details here Doc.

 

Josh looked over at Dr. Deumon only to be met with a gaze deprived of any emotion.

 

So anyway Mum gets out of the car yadda yadda, she starts yelling at him about dad and then, then she just collapsed and io remember seeing a flash of white in her hand at the time but, I can’t place what is was.. I unbuckled my seat belt and…

” Hold it! you never mentioned that your mother crashed into your front yard, you always said that she had stopped abruptly in the road, climbed out of the vehicle and confronted him, harshly?”

“Fine, just thought I could have a little fun you know?” he says as he chuckles at the doctor being once again met with silence. Dr. Deumon stood up gently as he took him dark cup of coffee in one hand with his black book in the other; “I’m going out for a smoke now, care to join me Josh? It could get your mind back on track so we can take this seriously again…”

 

To be Continued…

 

 

So what did you guys think… I’ve been trying to write short stories or maybe a short book but always got bored to easily and this is my solution, I don’t know if it will work but lets see if I can write little bits at a time to keep my interests intact? Please show some support if you enjoyed and if you want to see where the story goes from here! Thanks guys and ughh bye.. I guess!?!?