that the Curmudgeons (& Pally, the transvestite barmaid)
encountered as they made their way home after rescuing
Nate the Woodsman from the elite's clutches.
(this bit is not for the faint of heart)
* * * * *
as the night wore on the cryptic mist lifted.
shards
of starshine skimmed the surface of the earth.
by
dawn even shade loving nooks and crannies
had
dislodged the haze from its hovering berth.
Mock
was astonished to find himself waking
and
the cavalcade advancing on the woods.
though
Sappy and Gropey scratched their groggy heads,
snores
were still seeping from several slumping hoods.
the
sun warmed the hills in ByWater Landing,
tanning
fishwives and ferrymen on the dock.
children
splashed laughter on the glistening beach,
while
skipping and squealing and running amok.
when
the file of Curmudgeons reached the river,
as
that's where the ponies had wanted to go;
a
flying contraption sundered the heavens,
a throbbing steal beast that flashed a baleful glow.
the
destruction it unloaded was blinding;
the
crater it gouged inconceivably vast.
Sappy
tried to steady his rupturing chest,
certain
his heart would be shattered by the blast.
when
it was over and the ground laid back down,
they
frantically inspected all that was left.
what
was missing took longer to tally;
of
its children the Landing was wholly bereft.
Pally
raked the dirt in a frenzied fury,
despairing disbelief distorting his eyes.
even
muscular Mock couldn't constrain him
or
soothe his wounded, inconsolable cries.
but
his outbursts were hushed and his struggles stilled
when unbearable shock left him dazed and numb
on discovering a foot in a sandal
and
fingers still clasping a miniature thumb.
and they placed him on a shying pony
tendered by the mercy of the carpenter's hands,
then went on helping the desolate peasants
sift for survivors in the stained, shifting sands.
yet
their efforts only piled on torment
for
naught that's familiar was wrought in that hell;
only twisted, uninhabited fragments,
and
the futile corpse of a cracked, chapel bell.
the
prospects for rescue steadily decreased
till
the misery was utterly unmixed.
in
the silence the Curmudgeons remounted
while
the neighbors stood by, wooden and transfixed.
like disfigured effigies stripped of their limbs
their senses were blunted and their dreams effaced.
whatever
befell this town without children
its
stolen future could never be replaced.
leaving
ByWater Landing to its sorrow
they
took comfort in the shadow of the trees.
but
the keening of the mourners stayed with them,
its
burden of aching distressing the breeze.
the
rest of the day passed without discourse
as
each on their own tried to fathom the attack.
the
madness they'd witnessed offended reason
and even the ponies were taken aback.
*****
(thus ends the excerpt. - Evan Hawthorn, 14th of April, 2015)
