When walking out in the fresh air, this reporter spies a white-tailed blond mermaid crawling out of the water and toward the town. Following quietly so as not to alert the mer, she watches her crawl around, looking about her as she pulls herself along the ground. After about 10 minutes, this reporter follows the mer back to the water, but the mer does not enter her domain once again – instead she only watches the waves, seemingly deep in thought. Finally, she dived back into the waves she was watching so intently. What was so urgent that a mer left the water? What – or who – is she looking for? And what will happen when she finds it, or them? I don’t know … but I hope it was not for ill intent.
I am bright , I am dark, I am happy or sad, I am the best you ever had …What am I?
Signed: Sorinmar “grey eye”.
by Dart Chaffe
Oh the grandeur that was found within the walled city of Dee
(and it was not all that long ago, though it seems eternity.)
Oh the laughter that was heard in taverns teeming with a crowd
and the ribald times the bathhouse saw (NO! I am not speaking of me!)
Where the gallery of art once stood, now merely blades of grass.
No more tower climbs where citizens warned of trouble in the past.
Yes the blacksmith shop still stands, but not with sounds that were so loud
that one’s ears were split from steel on steel. Now silence reigns at last.
Do you recall the little bakery, which filled the morning air
with a scent unrivaled in this life, a smell so fresh and fair
that one had to wipe saliva from one’s lip when passing by?
No more bakery, no that is gone, and no one seems to care.
The queen did sit upon her throne in the castle near the pond
and gave out judgements, laws and such, (though of me she was not fond!)
But now the throne is empty and the castle echos with
the sound of bats that roost in chambers that once were loud with laws, complains and song.
No, the city behind the walls is now a meadow for the deer
and it pains me so to see this in a place I once held dear.
But, with things that pass, it always is that new things take ther place
and the rise of The Village of Saint Vitus makes me want to shed a tear.
Tears of joy to see that when you loose what you thought you’d always have
something comes to take it’s place and heal the wound with soothing salve.
And I know that some day soon, this humble village will be strong
and the memory grandeur lost will slowly slip into the past.