Asghar Abbas's Blog - Posts Tagged "2011"
Christina Hendricks
You are hardly Laurent Clerc, I get it. But listen, even though obviously you can't hear me. You had stolen my sun, so of course I was pissed off about it. But it is no longer about that. It has more to do with the inside than what's on the outside. But yeah, in the midst of all those decaying bones and skulls, let's do stuff to you. Like your name this moon comes and goes, when you asked me earlier, who do I love? I'll tell you now. No one and nowhere loves me back. You do love words but not the ones I write. You are here in front of me. But when I say your name, you disappear.
Ruprecht von Kaufmann
Even as he put on his armor; slipped on his leather boots; struggled into his mail-coat; even as he strapped his sword-belt around his waist; hanging the scabbard in the loop; even as he slid his metal helmet over his head.
Even as his fingers wrapped themselves around the hilt; grabbing a firm hold. Even as he unsheathed his sword and swung it in wide arcs. Even as he thrust the sword in the air, getting the feel of it, warming up. Even as he breathed deeply, steadying himself.
And even as he rushed outside through the burning door, disturbing the soot in his wake as he went out to the ravenous hordes that awaited him. Even as he moved toward them as they begin to encircle him, closing the gap between them, coming in even closer.
Even as he stood there alone and surrounded, and even as he fell into their lines, crashing through their ranks, bringing discord to their unending phalanxes, deflecting random blows from the dark combatants.
Even as he plowed through the throbbing masses parrying with the dark forces, he had already lost.
Still he fought, wielding his sword expertly until finally and inevitably, he was almost crippled with fatigue.
Yet he fought on as the armies tightened the circle around him. He fought until he was left alone in the field while the slain dark warriors lay dead at his feet and the second wave of ruthless oathbreakers moved in to attack him.
In that sudden lull, he stood still, with his head bowed down, breathing hard. He gently lowered his sword. He stood there forlornly, holding the blade he had forced his enemy to taste.
He stood silently in the muted chaos; not hearing their boisterous roars as they charged toward him again.
He ignored the ground that was trembling. He glanced at his smeared sword that shone crimson in the sunlight.
He stood there in the swirling dust raised by the ferocious feet advancing toward him.
He stood there, his head bent; he stood there bleeding, feeling the blood trickle down from the wound in his forehead to his chin.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and swayed slightly.
They almost reached him; they were almost upon him, only a breath away
He shook his head. No. not yet.
Tightening his grip, he tilted his sword sideways; he opened his eyes and flung himself at them.
Even as his fingers wrapped themselves around the hilt; grabbing a firm hold. Even as he unsheathed his sword and swung it in wide arcs. Even as he thrust the sword in the air, getting the feel of it, warming up. Even as he breathed deeply, steadying himself.
And even as he rushed outside through the burning door, disturbing the soot in his wake as he went out to the ravenous hordes that awaited him. Even as he moved toward them as they begin to encircle him, closing the gap between them, coming in even closer.
Even as he stood there alone and surrounded, and even as he fell into their lines, crashing through their ranks, bringing discord to their unending phalanxes, deflecting random blows from the dark combatants.
Even as he plowed through the throbbing masses parrying with the dark forces, he had already lost.
Still he fought, wielding his sword expertly until finally and inevitably, he was almost crippled with fatigue.
Yet he fought on as the armies tightened the circle around him. He fought until he was left alone in the field while the slain dark warriors lay dead at his feet and the second wave of ruthless oathbreakers moved in to attack him.
In that sudden lull, he stood still, with his head bowed down, breathing hard. He gently lowered his sword. He stood there forlornly, holding the blade he had forced his enemy to taste.
He stood silently in the muted chaos; not hearing their boisterous roars as they charged toward him again.
He ignored the ground that was trembling. He glanced at his smeared sword that shone crimson in the sunlight.
He stood there in the swirling dust raised by the ferocious feet advancing toward him.
He stood there, his head bent; he stood there bleeding, feeling the blood trickle down from the wound in his forehead to his chin.
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and swayed slightly.
They almost reached him; they were almost upon him, only a breath away
He shook his head. No. not yet.
Tightening his grip, he tilted his sword sideways; he opened his eyes and flung himself at them.
