Pope's Posts

Part 1: The Warlord, A Charm Thief In the Warlord's deep abyss, he sits indulging in the smell of fear that is radiating from both the heavenly and earthly creatures confined to his devilish kingdom. The rocks begin to tremble and the screams begin. The Warlord lets out a booming, maniacal laugh as lightning strikes and thunder claps. "I'm going to enjoy this for the millionth time...he says. He will enjoy my sacrifices." The rocks from the abyss begin to rain down harder. In  the pit, the stones pouring from the dark sky are knocking gods, goddesses, and other brahmins unconscious or in a fog to be devoured. Then come more blood curdling screams as the stones became hot and more forceful. "And you all think this is the bad part," says the Warlord. As soon as he finishes his statement, tendrils of darkness begin seeping through the thick walls that confine them. The jet black, sticky tendrils latch on to the golden skin of each divine creature and be...

I decided to take this week to utilize the story planning option. My goal is to create the most enticing and captivating story, as this will be my last "official story" in my portfolio. The goal of this last story is to summarize Shala's endeavors to restore the balance of good and evil. I'm wanting to incorporate a segment about the Warlord; however, I'm not sure if I should break it into chapters to take a moment to address his background. I decided that I would combine both stories from the Indian Story Book and the Sacred Tales of India .  I think that I could title Part I: The Warlord, A Charm Thief. I want to alter the story about the Sacred Crow from the  Indian Story Book .  Vishvamitra Bewildered in Evil Thoughts The Sacred Cow:  The story begins with the monarch, Visvamitra sitting on his throne wrestling about how he's going to interrupt the peace in his kingdom. Visvamitra is bored with the happy pattern of his people and the king...

Down the long, dark corridor we walk. I waited patiently for her to begin to talk.  All the hidden history spewed from her mouth, and my throat closed up as though I were suffering from a drought. Louder and louder my heart would thump just as the shadows chasing across the walls made me jump. It's like my life began to unfold. What else is there that has to be told? Further and further I dragged my feet on. In this windowless corridor, I couldn't tell if it was dusk or dawn. Time felt as though it had paused. I've been dragged into this new dimension to continue some sort of cause. On and on about my parents' life the rakshasi explains, and the tears star falling down like the spring time rains. Click and clack we reach the end of the hall as I stop and stare at the birch bark door so high and tall. A future awaits behind these doors. As soon as I pull the handles, I can't turn back anymore. ...

Ashoka Grove was a beautiful resting ground in the middle of a dark, evil-ridden forest. The flowers ranged from pink, puffy ashoka blossoms, orange lotuses, to beautiful Malobar daffodils, orchids, and magnolias. The aroma was overwhelming and enchanting. It was a scene so serene. The crisp, warm spring breeze would blow and pick up the swirling pool of petals collecting on the ground  in a whirlpool and sweep them up into the air. The whistle of the wind was a harmonious sound to the ears of the grove's visitors; it is a sound so hypnotizing and enticing that the visitors go numb to the razor-sharp teeth of the rakshasas that are sinking into the veins of their warm, fleshy necks and limbs. For years, Ashoka Grove was a hot attraction. Thousands of visitors would venture across the world to experience such a magnificent wonder of Mother Nature. People from all walks of life could be seen lying down in the mounds of petals on the ground trying to make a "flower angel....

Rakshasas stories in the corridor. Down the long, dark corridor we walk. I waited patiently for her to begin to talk.  All the hidden history spewed from her mouth, and my throat closed up as though I were suffering from a drought Louder and louder my heart would thump just as the shadows chasing across the walls made me jump. It's like my life began to unfold. What else is there that has to be told? Further and further I dragged my feet on In this windowless corridor, I couldn't tell if it was dusk or dawn. Time felt as though it had paused I've been dragged into this new dimension to continue some sort of cause On and on about my parents' life the rakshasi explains And the tears star falling down like the spring time rains Click and clack we reach the end of the hall as I stop and stare at the birch bark door so high and tall. A future awaits behind these doors As soon as I pull the handles, I can't turn back anymore. There's ...

"Amber get it together, looked enthused, and suck it in. You're about to marry the love of your life. He's a great man. Don't ruin it for us like you did the last time.  I don't need another lawsuit and a front page spread in the newspaper," said Amber's father as they stood arm in arm soon to head down the aisle. My shiny sea foam colored eyes were filled with animosity and guilt all while this morning's breakfast violently churned in my gut alongside the feeling of anxiety and apprehension. "Why do I feel like what I am doing is so wrong? This just doesn't feel right, but I will make it right for my parents.," Amber thought. I picked up my cobalt blue stilettos in sync with Hear Comes the Bride  and trudged down the aisle. I could feel my fathers excitement from the pep in his step to finally gain a son-in law after having lost two potential candidates. The faster he walked to the front, the heavier my feet became, weighing me do...

On the hard,cold wooden desk I sat just waiting until the day we would chat. I was yours since the day you were born, but not for long I shall warn.  I watch you both day and night, but never on your mind, always out of sight. I was there to see you walk and cry,  but I hope that when it's time to meet you're not shy.  You toss and turn all night long , trying to fight this pull that's so strong. You wake up with sweats and eyes full of terror,  but then you turn over to see me on you dresser.  You pick me up and twirl me around, knowing that I'm your comfort when comfort can't be found.  Your attachment to me weakens as you mature through the years,  but there's a calling on your life so it appears.  A whole new world and kingdom awaits for you and me, just step into the world of the rakshashi. Beep! Beep! Beep! After five minutes of hearing the annoying alarm clock, Shala finally reaches out from underneath her five d...

Deep in the heart of the Eastwoods, where weeping, willowy trees can barely be seen through the dense fog, is a petite, wooden cottage paved with cobblestone. Inside the cold, mysterious, and barren cottages lives the silver haired man. The sound of the creaking old chair echoing off the walls signaled the beginning of the elderly man’s daily routine- his only routine. Every day for hours, the silver haired man wrapped in luxurious linens leans back with eyes closed, humming the tune to inaudible music.    An Old Man Asleep by the  Fire painting by Rembrandt This  is the only image that replays in the mind of the villagers that inhabit Westwood, a town at the edge of the swamp that intersects both Westwood and Eastwood. All other talk concerning the silver haired man is hushed. Only the curious and adventurous villagers dare to cross the swamp and peak into the dust collecting window of the silver-haired man, but foreigners peering into window is the grea...