Makes [Me] Feel Alive - original and extended versions

Makes [Me] Feel Alive - Original Version:
Do you ever
hug that one person
feel the arms link
her's wrapping around your body
and your's around her
that feeling that tells you
everything can be
right in the world
that perfect
mental and physical connection
that makes you feel happy
that makes you feel safe
that makes you feel alive

Makes [Me] Feel Alive - Extended Version:
Do you ever
hug that one person
feel the arms link
her's wrapping around your body
and your's around her
that feeling that tells you
everything can be
right in the world
that perfect
mental and physical connection
that makes you feel happy
that makes you feel safe
that makes you feel alive
I am thankful for my true friends
and the hugs that my true friends give
the hugs that make me
feel alive

You Gave Me An Enigma

The confusion that kills
that which laid dormant
in my soul
now burst out like a brush fire
exploding
Tearing at my insides
I told you what I thought
and you said
"Ok"
Ok?!
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
You either do
or you don't
love me
You can't just say ok...
I gave you my soul
You gave me an enigma

Why?

Why?

Why make sense,
when you could embody nonsense.

Why be perfect,
when you could become an imperfection.

Why be normally hot,
when you could be unusually beautiful.

Why be sane,
when you could instead live.

....and then you died

I owe the writing and story and idea of this poem to a dear friend of mine, who I hope will be my friend (and a Muse of mine as well) for the rest of the years that I have living in this world. Thank you.

....and then you died

....and then you died
Lying in the street you were
the accident flashing before my eyes
constantly replaying
spreading the terror
from my mind to my heart
experiencing such horror
that one should never go through
is harder than you could ever think
you could have never known
the true dread of a life ending
never expected the fear created
in the idea of a life without you
....and then you died
but it was all a lie
an act put on by my thoughts
to show me the true love
that I hold for your existence.

Dear Muse,

Dear Muse,

Why hello there!
It's me,
You know, the writer!
Yes the writer I am,
And you the Muse.
I call upon you
to shed your creativity
upon my life,
my soul.
Taint my soul
with your genius please.
Send me your thoughts,
send me your creations.
Make my soul
see through the eyes
of your radiance.
Thank you!
You didn't even do anything,
you say?
The only thing you did
was exist?
Truly there must have been something more.
No? Are you sure?
I see
Just the existence of your own self
caused inspiration in itself?
Well then...
You truly do exist in the bubble
of my own creativity.
You truly are a Muse.

I Love How Life Works Out

I just thought this would be something I should add onto this blog, it explains me a lot. It was my Facebook status tonight:

"Lucas Wagner just got gushers, fruit roll up, fruit by the foot, yogurt, nutter butter bites, and a frozen pizza for dinner. His co-worker responds: "I thought you weren't a pot head" I say no, this is just what I eat whenever I want to, an instance later I am in the car eating gushers and listening to Pink Floyd. I love how life works out."

Muse Muse where are you?

A Muse (according to Dictionary.com):
- the goddess or the power regarded as inspiring a poet, artist, thinker, or the like.
- the genius or powers characteristic of a poet.
- A guiding spirit.
- A source of inspiration.

A Muse can be a being, a person, a creature, something that can talk or is mute, can walk or is disabled, something that is 'real' or imaginary, something that is inanimate or living, etc. It is a 'being' that is 'living' inside one's mind that creates inspiration to the artist inside of you. This Muse can be hiding and dormant within you until you finally come across it, or you could have known your Muse/s all along.

My Muses consist of many people/creatures:
- Luna Lovegood - the Harry Potter books by JK Rowling
- Edgar Allan Poe - author and poet
- Cyrano de Bergerac - the play Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmund Rostand
- Dorian Gray - the book The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
- The Cheshire Cat - the movie Alice in Wonderland (though I'll be reading the book soon too so it'll be from the book as well)
- Spider-Man - the Amazing Spider-Man comics, etc
- Rorschach - the graphic novel Watchmen by Alan Moore
- Eric Draven - the movie The Crow (I will be reading the graphic novel soon)
and
- Haruko - the anime miniseries FLCL

All of these people/creatures have been in my mind since the day I met them and have never truly left. They have all influenced me and my artistic creations, sometime even going to far to having me write poems about them (specifically speaking about Rorschach, and I have written two about him so far and everytime I encounter him it makes me want to write another haha). Does anyone else have any Muse/s that help your creative lifestyle?

What is the blue blazes of the bright blue sun in lalaland am I thankful for?!

thank⋅ful
–adjective
feeling or expressing gratitude; appreciative.

What I am thankful for on this fine day:


- my friends, for without them i would be hopeless
- my family, for without them i would be helpless
- shorewood's drama department, for without all of them i don't know if i would be here right now
- video games, for without them, how would i get more stupid yet more smart at the same time while still having a blast?
- movies, for without them i would not be able to see the beauty in simple shots and angles of life
- music, for without it i would not have made it past sophomore year
- horror movies/books/etc, for without them i would not be able to have an escape for my more crazy side
- poetry and books, for without them my words would be meaningless
- my hoodies, for without them, how else would i be able to feel so much better when i have a headache?
- life, for without it no one else would be alive, therefore i would have no purpose
- facebook, for without it i would have done all of my pointless homework and not have expanded the friendships i have with amazing people
- the comic store, for without it i could not get my thrice-monthly fix of amazing spider-man
- my insanity, for without it i could not be the person i am today. who that person is i have not the fucking faintest clue, but i love being him nonetheless!
- and last but not least, love... that goes without saying... for without love, everything around me is completely and utterly pointless. not just romantic love, every single type of love, for everyone and everything...



specific people i am thankful for, whether i know them or not, whether they are fictional or not:
family (parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, sisters)
my drama family (brother- cole; sisters- megan, joy, ciela; daughter- saleena)
my second family (the wellingtons of course)
the IMDB horror board
everyone else in drama
lauren sweeten
kayla erickson
emma doyle
jordan sterland
angelia tran
captain ash
becky dobson
taryn and carter
ms perticulous
kate mcknight
lizzi kudebeh
liz shearer
co-worker nicole
tonya :)
spider-man
the punisher
jk rowling
V
luna lovegood
batman
the macmanus brothers
poe
ray bradbury
rorschach
and of course so many more. every single one of my friends means so much to me and i am thankful for all of you. thank you so much for being in my life. i am sorry i did not name you all, and if you were not named, just know that i love you too!

Truly a Faerie Tale

(Also posted on Facebook)

I am not posting this to get into a philosophical argument about whether or not I am right or not. I may or may not be right, but this is my view on life. This is what I believe. Feel free to post comments and talk about what you believe, but I do not want anyone arguing against me. If you want to get into a debate about whether or not I am right, then send me a message. Don't let that stop you from commenting though, please tell me what you think and tell me your ideas on life and whether or not you agree with me. (I know that sounds contradictory, sorry I'm tired hahaha, anyways to sum it up, post comments telling me what you think and all that jazz, but if you REALLY wanna talk about it and not just comment, then message me and I would be glad to debate) Also, I haven't edited this at all, this is truly my raw thoughts just put down on paper.

Enjoy


Truly a Faerie Tale

Part 1 – Life is Not a Faerie Tale

I had a conversation tonight with one of my friends, whom will remain anonymous. We were talking about her boyfriend and she ended up saying “Honestly I’ve never met anyone like him, he’s amazing.” She then went on to say “sometimes I hate being only 16.” The way I took it, she loved him so much that she wished she could marry him, yet couldn’t because she was too young. I then proceeded to have this thought process. “Oh do I miss the innocence that you have” I said to her. I ended up thinking so much more than I said, though. I thought more of by innocence I am thinking of how the younger people seem to just love and life in life by having the time of their lives, not knowing how hard life can truly be sometimes. I thought to myself, life is not always a faerie tale… I wished that sometimes I could be as innocent as young teens in love seemed to be. But then I thought about it. Is it really innocence that they have, or is more like ignorance? Are they actually ignorant about the harsh world around them, ignoring the attempt to learn and take in what life truly is? Do I really wish to be as ignorant as they are and ignore the danger that surround us? No. Why would I ever want to ignore the truth? The fact is, life is not a faerie tale, and we all just need to accept it.

Part 2 – Life is a Faerie Tale

“Life is not a faerie tale.” That’s a phrase I used to hear a lot when I was younger, usually referring to the fact that we don’t always get what we want. But does that phrase really only mean that we don’t get what we want? What are faerie tales but tales of a person on a quest to have a happy ending? If we go on the ultimate quest, the quest of life, what is stopping us from ultimately obtaining our goal in the end? If you truly think about it, growing up is not about realizing that life IS NOT a faerie tale, but more about realizing that life IS a faerie tale. We all have to power to decide whether or not to enjoy life, to make the best out of life, to search for our Prince Charming or our Cinderella, to finally live happily ever after. That is what we need not forget. People always think that those who believe in faerie tales have never grown up, but I think the exact opposite. I feel that those who have truly grown up are able to truly grasp the fact that life is our own faerie tale. It has it’s ups and downs as all other faerie tales do. What it means to truly grow up and mature and understand that life is a faerie tale is that you can really truly enjoy life no matter what shit is thrown at you, and I stand by this fact, disregarding my earlier statement that life is not a faerie tale. Life truly is a faerie tale, and it only takes the self-realization (and yes, I know this is hard, trust me) to turn your life into what you want, a life that you truly enjoy no matter what.

My Tribute to Miss Lizzi

The darkest part of my life
soars by in the sky
like the black thundercloud
that you never saw coming
like the dark tornado
devouring the light
and destroying all happy
all hope is lost
all hope is gone
though through the storm
the melody comes
the singing melody of the savior
as it floats in through the clouds
it is followed by the flying white falcon
the falcon of hope
she creates hope in the storm
there is always hope.

With Green and Blue

With Green and Blue

Twenty minutes
All that was needed
For an impact to be made
Craziness is contagious
And I caught it
From you
That impression you made
From the profanity you shouted
To the eyes surrounded with green and blue
Made an impression
Keeping my mind
Only on you
Infatuation created
From a simple smile
From when we first met
And that made all the impact

The Gift

WARNING: This is a creepy dark poem. I would never do this that is stated in the poem, I never want to do it, I don't have thoughts of doing it, it is only something that I decided to write from another person's point of view. I am not this f'ed up, I promise.


What a sweet smell
the smell from the bottle
the smell
that I will give to her
my beautiful girl
my future bride to-be
her eyes glisten in the night
as she walks unknowingly towards me
her flowing blonde hair
blowing in the wind
reflecting the moonlight rays
she walks unknowingly
towards her love
not ready to receive my gift
but my gift is inevitable
the bottle I bought
smells so beautiful
perfect for her body
as she walks closer
I ready the perfume
ready to administer
sneaking up behind her
she screams in surprise
but calms down
as soon as I show her the present
as it drips on her skin
she is content
as I look at her perfection
all I can smell
is the gift
the perfume
the chloroform

Lovely, Dark, Deep

This poem is inspired by Leah, and her quote "the woods are lovely, dark and deep." Thanks Leah :)


Lovely, Dark, Deep

the woods
lovely woods are a dark deep portal
trails to the inside
lead
to the creation of life
and the inspiration of death
which concept is more beautiful?

The Enigma Survives

For those of you who haven't read the graphic novel or seen the movie Watchmen, DO BOTH. You might not understand as much as you should if you don't know Rorschach, but read and comment anyways please :)

The Enigma Survives (another tribute to Rorschach)

the sword is the extension of my arm
though
the sword is not a weapon
that i choose to use
the fists
my pounding fists
those are the only things i need
to cause the destruction
that destroys destruction
created by humanity
i was once human
behind my face i still am
though as long as my face stay on
my mask stays hidden
i will destroy mankind's evil current
until justice prevails
and the enigma survives

you might grow young again

how do you live
if you never are young
if your childhood
is all spent growing up
you never live
you never love
the wonders of laughter
the wonders of magic
the wonders of time
how do you live like that
you live
because of that one day
where you might realize the truth
behind the magic
and one day
you might grow young again

her eyes are portals

her eyes are portals

her eyes are portals
into the world only created by thought
staring into the blue depths
is like diving into the sea of divine
thought is struck as the ripples are caused
the eyebrows furrowed
pointing a little downward
as arrows directing you to the diving board
jumping into those eyes, into that soul
would be an experience mortals dream of
and an experience gods worship
into the thoughtfulness of those eyes
true beauty arises
creating care and curiosity
that bewitches the mind into need
the need to know what is in there
why those brows are furrowed
why those eyes are so divine
why that creation of heavenly beings
is locked up within the confines of a human body
and when it will finally be free

How Does it Feel Now?

How Does it Feel Now?

How does it feel now?
The creature that you desire
Not plausible to own
The beauty flowing forth
Your mind distraught from the absence in your life
Is it really worth it to love
That which is not aloud to love
The agony of never feeling that soul

How does it feel now?
No fear of rejection or disregard
The ability to love without ever receiving pain in return
The never changing, never doubting life
That comes from within it's passages
The heart that will never be lost
The gorgeous blonde hair and blue eyes
That will live on within your own soul

Did You Get Me?

Did You Get Me?

Run through the barbed house

as I steal back my soul

taking it back, for myself

to make my person whole

The hounds chasing at my feet

how fast, how fast they go

oh please let me go fast

I'm faster than them I KNOW

pistol cocked and in my hand

just around the corner now

running running with my soul

off to take a bow

bye bye blackbird

my pistol, away it goes

bye bye blackbird

I am shot, everyone knows...

at least i have some dignity

I hope that someone heard

at least i have my heart in me

for bye bye black .......

Go Smash Your Guitar...

Smash your guitar

the power...

the agony...

so go ahead and smash your guitar

beat it against the stage

beat it like the heart that beats

the heart that beats through life

life's ups

life's downs

life's confusion

the smiles...

the frowns...

the frowns that use more muscles than smiles

but frowns nonetheless

so go ahead

fucking smash your guitar

let it bleed notes

not strings

not shards of wood

the notes that bleed

that splatter across the floor

bleeding on your face

enveloping you in the song of life

go smash your guitar...

The Closest He Could Be; The Heart Beats

He stands over her body

The body of the woman

Once full of life

Once full of love

Love for everyone

Love for him

The day that she died

He had finally confessed

His everlasting love for her

In which she replied

"No one will ever

love you the way I do"

He is the man of the morgue

Who cremates the bodies

Yet as he looked down upon her

He felt the need to fulfill her wish

To turn her to ashes

No matter how hard it would be

Yet before he does it

One last thing he must do

The incision is made

Cutting down the middle

Not much blood left

To ooze out

As he peels her open

And looks in at the heart

The heart that love him

The heart he had loved

One thing he must do

To be the closest he could be

He reaches his hand in

And grasps the heart

And with the power of eternal love

Feels the heart beat.

Jim and Lola

- Before my poem starts, I just want to say that this is probably my most emotional poem to me. As soon as I finished writing my heart was pounding so hard that I could hear it, and my eyes were tearing up... Hope you enjoy :)

Jim and Lola

Jim and Lola

both in late-teens

been neighbors forever

both very keen

What Lola doesn't know

is Jim always loved her

what Jim doesn't know

is that he has cancer

Jim went to the doctor

once symptoms arose

and got quite a shock

then though "life blows"

Kept hidden in secrecy

Jim's condition was

just as his love for Lola

he hides, yes he does

One final day

his heart couldn't take it

so his death he did

go out and fake it

Everyone was worried

except for his love

because she knew he could fake it

and he woke like a dove

She picked him up

and said "I love you"

and at that moment

he knew what to do

One day he felt ill

and knew it was his last

and in his heart

he felt love from the past

The past is the present

the present day love

and every sad feeling

he pushed and he shoved

The next day a package

showed up at Lola's door

not mailed but hand delivered

for Jim was very poor

The box had a note

to the "love", signed by Jim

Lola opened the paper

and then really felt she knew him

"This couldn't wait

for if it did it would rot

I just wanted you to know

I love you, a lot"

The package she did open

and dropped lovely tears

at the heart in the box

and the lovely beating she hears...

"Goodnight"

As I stood in the crowd

Hovering a little

I strained to see

What the crowd was examining

I finally realized what it was

When I saw my girlfriend

Standing in black

With tears rolling down her face

I had gone

My job had finally gotten the best of me

It's what I get

For being a cop

But it's not what

She should get

She had no one left

No one to help her

As they lowered my body into the ground

She sobbed harder and harder

With no one around to hold her

I glided toward her

Reaching my hands, my arms

Just wanting to comfort her

She walked right through me

Not noticing my presence one bit

Five hours later

I sat in the chair that faced our bed

Watching her cry

Cry herself to sleep

The sobbing slowly ceased

As she drifted off to sleep

I crawled up behind her

And wrapped my arms tight around her waist

I guess ghosts can sleep as well

Because I fell asleep

But just in time

To see her crack a small sleepy smile

and hear her whisper

"Goodnight"

Tangerine the Black Bear

Dedicated to Joy Wellington, she gave me the random prompt of 'black bear', 'tangerine', and 'alien' and I came up with this random thing.

Tangerine Tangerine

Tangerine the black bear

Went walking through the forrest

Tangerine was not black

As the name of the animal says

But more orange as his real name suggests

Tangerine Tangerine

Tangerine the black bear

Met up with a creature

With very little fur

Which seemed ironic to the orange bear

Because the creature was a hare

Tangerine Tangerine

Tangerine the black bear

Talked to the creature

To ask him why he had no hair

An alien he was

Who was born with very little fuzz

Tangerine Tangerine

Tangerine the black bear

Wanted to be just like the hare

So he asked him how and what and where

The hare replied by holding him by the hip

And going up into his ship.

The Sycamore

Walking through the wood

Hooves crunching on leaves

Brittle branches snapping below

Nose sticks up in the air

Sniffing

The smell in the air

The stag noticed it

Above all other scent

He looked, longingly, and wandered

The doe, the doe, the doe everywhere

The doe wandering, longing for the stag

The snow fall drops onto the deer

Like the tears that they cry

The tears cried when the longing is for the lost

The snow drops onto the stag

The stag goes on, goes on

He watches; pays attention

Every detail it watches

From the feather off to the right

That falls from the brown owl flying above

The brown owl leads his gaze

Towards the tree

The tree

The tree that sticks out most

Because that is the tree

The sycamore tree, living in the belly of pine

The forest of pine trees surrounds it

The sycamore being the meeting place

Of the doe that he longs for

The stag steps forward towards the tree

As he realizes

The beauty of the doe

Resides within him, for she is always there

As he realizes this, he knows to long no more

As the doe he desires puts down her head

Right next to his; brushes against him

The stag and the doe

The sycamore

In The End?

Poem dedicated to Chris (for the idea and inspiration, and has a fine last name :P) and a certain special friend in my life....

That one person

The one you would die for

Could you really die

For her when

She may not die for you

Does it matter if

She returns those feelings or not

Or is it just the love of the friendship

That counts?

But what if there is no

Friendship?

What if it's one sided?

What if it is just me

Missing her

The one who had saved me

Does she really matter

In the end

Do I matter to her

In the end?

The Entity Unique

Poem dedicated to Kayla Erickson.

He walks through the forest

Just and entity in time

Listening to the trees

The trees

They speak

To the entity unique

He crawls, he grovels, he goes on

Just for you

Just for the sake of the trees

The trees

Silhouettes of the darkness

The entity rids them all

And turns them back

Into green growing trees

To live a life worth growing for.

Poem Dedication

I have thought about starting to dedicate some of my poetry that either is inspired by someone or written about someone etc. Today is the day that I start dedicating poems that I am writing, if I feel they need to be dedicated.

A

This is a poem that made it into Shorewood HS Imprints last year, my original and first senior year. I wrote this near the beginning of the school year last year, but just now decided to post it.

This poem starts with an A,

Apple starts with an A,

Apples are red,

Meaning this poem is read.

Is It That Clear?

Is it worth it

to keep up faith

in that which is unfaithful?

Can we really hope

can we really dream

that it will all be ok?

Will it actually last

or will it plummet

into everlasting doom?

Does it really count

to hope and dream

or is it completely pointless?

The answers are clear

for a simple hopeless fellow

it is worth it

to wish...

Hypocritical Psychosis

I walk down the street
Thinking to myself

"Am I insane,

Or is it just an illusion?"

The insanity there

Is to make me different

Make me special

Make me significant.

I imagine a doctor

Letting me know nothing is wrong

And the disappointment I would feel

Knowing that I was typical, average.

Is it wrong to want to be insane

To feel the need to be diagnosed

As utterly and mentally

Psychotic?

I try to understand these feelings

That I may be completely normal

That I might just be filled with

Hypocritical psychosis. 

The Glorious Colors Inside

Standing in the kitchen
My hands are full
A letter in one palm
A knife in the other.

The letter is there
Addressed to Diane
The knife is there

Addressed to my flesh.

The letter pours out

The wonders of my life

But the shyness as well

Which kept it all inside.

I open my tight fist

As the letter drops to the floor

My shirt is lifted by my empty hand

As the other slices my exposed stomach.

The warm liquid pours over my hands

The front door lock clicks open

I drop the knife with a clang

My son walks in.

Who follows him is Diane, my beautiful wife

They gaze in terror at what I had done

But as I follow their gaze

All I see are the glorious colors inside.

Raw Shark

This poem came to me two days ago while I was reading Watchmen. For all of you who have read the comic, the title of the poem should make complete sense and you should know who inspired me to write this poem that can be taken two ways.

Raw Shark

Have you ever seen

The darkness inside of you

And peered into it

Realizing that somewhere within

There is a person

Peering back out

Shoelessness

This poem was sparked by a conversation I had with a fellow classmate. We were talking about a contest for our school literary magazine, Imprints, which has the theme of Daydream. I went on a random bout of talking about weird surrealistic things and poems and stories and basically came up with the idea of feet running away from their owners. After I wrote the poem, I realized that it can be looked at as a metaphorical poem, whether I planned to write it that way or not. But I will not explain the metaphor that I have thought of and instead leave it to the readers interpretation.

Shoelessness

The feet that run through the forest

Come from the roads and the cities

And from the houses in the dark

From their owners who where no shoes

Deny Myself

This poem was written about a girl, obviously. I felt weird liking her at the beginning because of our age difference. In the end I wrote this poem and started realizing that the age difference isn't that big and it doesn't really matter.

Deny Myself

How do I deny the existence

Of my feelings for her

Knowing that in turn

I would deny the existence of myself

The Hiding Side

I came up with this poem from a conversation I had with my friend over email. I was feeling bad about something that happened between me and a friend and was basically being optimistic and saying that eventually everything will be all right between the two of us. This is just what my dialogue ended up being.

The Hiding Side

There is a bright side

I can see it far away

But it is there

Hiding behind the mountains

Waiting for the right time

To pop out

My Little Toe

I have no idea how this poem came to me. I know it was while I was researching Surrealism, I just have no idea what triggered it. Probably just something random that came into my mind that I loved.

My Little Toe

If you find him

Let me know

For I have lost him

My little toe

The Moon and the Tree

I was doing a self-study of Surrealism while I was at a community college over the summer. After I finished studying for an hour or two, I left to go home. On the way out of the library I saw a picture of a moon and the poem just came to me.

The Moon and the Tree

The fingernail moon tilted

And fell towards the earth

Falling face first

Shrinking and collapsing

Into the space

Between you, me,

And the tree

Dissolving Within

This poem i wrote over the summer about a girl who i was "in love" with. Whether or not I was really in love or not is a mystery to us all. It is my first (and so far only) poem to be published in a book. So far, no one has been told who I wrote this poem about, and I plan to keep it that way.

EDIT: Ok now I think overall two people know who it was about, but that is it. And I've realized that I don't believe you can fully be in love with someone until you are with them in a relationship, but this girl is the person who has gotten so much emotion from me that I was as close to being fully in love with her as I possibly can without being in a relationship with her. So take away the quotes around the term 'in love' up in the first paragraph, it's better that way.

Dissolving Within

I want to see you

Once again in my life

For the image of you

Is dissolving within my heart

My Journey Into Pontrey Greens: Day __

My Journey into Pontrey Greens

- Vanez Faer

 

Day __

I did not date this first entry as Day I because I am not starting my quest yet. Well, I actually think I should start off at the beginning. Two days ago I got in an argument with Harver about the forest at the end of Pontrey Road. I was telling the usually “fairy-tale” story to the children at the library about the forest. At the end, as usual, they all loved the story and clapped and cheered and just started talking all about it. Harver just had to walk up to me and embarrass me in front of all of them. I can’t believe it. he walked up to me and asked if I had ever been into the forest to know if all of these fantastic things were real. Of course, then, I had to tell him and the children the other story. This is what I told them, well, maybe not word for word but close enough.

The mystical forest, Pontrey Greens, is supposed to be a magical place. There have been many people who went into Pontrey Greens for the day just for picnic trip to a place that not many people go to. They stay in for the day, sometimes seeing the magical creatures, but when they get out they don’t remember a thing. Their memory is completely whipped once they come back out. The things that I have told to you today aren’t actually true, they are all just fairy tales that we have made up into a story. There have only been 3 people to go into the forest on the quest to find out more. 2 of them never came back. The only one that came back was found nine days after he ventured in. He was found on the road right outside the forest, dead. In his pocket was his journal, with nothing in it and about thirty pages ripped from out from it. Clutched in his hand was a map that was caked with dried blood and a gaping hole in the palm of his hand that looked like something had actually lacerated its way out from the inside. No one has ventured in since that day that he was found.

Of course after I told that story the children were all disappointed that I had lied to them and Harver just stood there laughing at me. That day I made a promise to the children, that I would venture into Pontrey Greens and keep a journal to show them all of the magical things that are actually in there. Tomorrow is the day that I head in. I’ve got my pack with ten days worth of food and my journal and pencil. And I’m getting the map tomorrow that the town museum has from the man who was found dead. Supposedly he found a few things and added notes onto the map that would most likely heighten the experience that I will have in Pontrey Greens.