"Where do you think you are now?"
He looked around. That was the best thing he could do. The Raven was still on his shoulder. He has no idea what meaning to make of them. He wished that he could understand. He was hoping that getting acquainted with the whole thing would make sense to him but it seemed more like he had been hypnotized.
He had no much ideas on hypnosis. If he didn't, be probably would figure out if he had been hypnotized or not. That was the only thing he could had done and got correctly. He needn't be told.
He was standing before the great sea of the village. From the tree he had been sitting on, he would had walked for like 2 hours before he would get them. But in just 2.5 seconds he had stepped into it as though it was like entering from one room to the other.
That seemed prettily ridic
"Ay me! Mate, what's your state?" The man towered over him. He wished that the man were gone but the fellow had been standing there for couple minutes. It seemed as though he would be left with no choice but to stand up and explain what he was doing there with the helmet, if the man had noticed. He kept his face down as though he was dead and could never come back to live. He wanted the man to believe that and keep walking but that fellow seemed not be moved at all. It seemed more like having to fill an odd and trying to make it seem as though the odd had been created to spoil and foil what he was trying to stand for. Before the man could bring himself to saying what he had said up there. He had fought with his instinct to have a stance but he had no idea how. He had asked himself several questions about how someone sane would be at the shore at such ho
"Arghhhh" The greaves clanged as he reached for the javelin across his shoulders. But the opponent was faster. His eyes were like the prime of the hay; basked in anger and fixed demeanor. His lips cloven, chewing inaudible spells as a warthog bruises the earth with haughty hoofs as it skipped. The expectation of all those who were present was to see the Cod fall by the sword of that worn warthog; his opponent. The call of the winds seemed to have a message for him The charge met a shield, and worn warthog would try again. The Cod at that moment was ready for all twould take him. The only echo he could hear at the depth of his consciousness was Fight or die!!!<
"Urnngghhh" Gaunt grunt. He had no idea how long he would bank on the sassy sword. The purpled eyes of heaven was rehearsing her intensity on the altar of his temple, but the leopard contending with him spared him no moment to nurse such pain. He was bent on killing it. It was also bent on killing him. What do? A cliche! Killing wasn't a new or hideous act to him. It was matter-of-factly his oxygen. And tell, who can survive without oxygen. He only was having fun with it, but the gore its pestering paw had left on his arm would never made him spare it. He wasn't with his god-damned spear. It could have been easier. Just an aim who'd brought the passionate panther down. What annoyed him mostly, was the fact that the leopard felt proud. His retina canvassed that as they swelled per sumptuous snarls. He could decode the rhythm of the jaws. It
"Huuhoohuh..." Yearning yawn! He was tired of being in the cave. He was tired of staring at those cold walls that felt no iota of the trauma that'd enveloped his spree. He was becoming impatient. Many reasons were owed to the reason he decided to remain in the cave. He hadn't stepped out since he'd returned from the hampered hunt for lighter he went for the previous evening. Seeking for a lighter had led him to obtaining sundry other things. Things that'd helped him survived the malady nocturnal nature leased the jungle. He'd made the fire in the cave to keep the walls warm for that previous night. After eating he'd traced his fingers through the hollows cut by the chisel of time like a foiled furrow in the bosom of an isle. Then he'd succumbed to the clone of death that'd restored his wandering spectre. He had no idea whose footsteps t
"Bìxîa, our plight, Bìxîa" Ja Lia pushed the bowl sideways as he paged the gladiator in a grey robe. The summoned fastened to him and he brushed his robe with his damp hand. His right hand had been damp with soup and bleeds of the steaks and venisons. The culprit succumbed. What choice did he have? None! Like absolutely none! He was a pawn to nature and the hideous master. His fate was an offshoot of moaning misery. He couldn't have done anything about it. He wouldn't even if he would. Life hitherto had been betraying to him. He'd lost his wife, babies and cursed his parents! What was their to be happy about? Nothing! The master then turned to the owner of the glottis that had puked the prior statement. He couldn't fathom what they'd said. Probably, he had made meaning of it but kept pruning lies for his sanity. How coul
"Now, see who professes to care. Hypocrite!" He stood abruptly. He had been sleeping. After the futile search for the eerie but callous creature, he'd returned with what now he'd called either his partner or pet. He'd eaten and had consoled the cold floor of the cave. He had no idea who consoled who. Whether he consoled the land or the land did him, he couldn't be sure and never cared. All he cared about was the fact that he was still breathing and had a hide. He had wanted to be alone till death would catch up with him, but felon fate would also have his worn way. He'd fed the cub with the remains of the leopard he'd killed. But the cub growled heavily and in keen detest and would not eat it. Then did it occur to him that a leopard would never eat another leopard. He wasn't sure if that was the only the reason the leopard had growled at him in such manner. He knew there was more to it. He wished he could
"Yo, mate, you're positive about today?" The cub was gay. His feeble limbs flexed rhythmically to some jive he could not hear. He was sure that having the cub edge before him was an approval. He was beginning to make meaning of the language of the cub. He couldn't suitingly speak, but the signs and growls were beginning to make sense to him. Twas the first week of being with it. How wouldn't he be acquainted with its ways of life? Then he'd been the dumbest person that'd ever existed. Most times would the cub leave the cave to hunt down prey himself and when it'd returned, he'd remonstrated to it: "What have you done, mate? Death calls at you? You wanna be inna haste to meet mamma? Why would go hunting all by yourself? Mehn! Damn! You're impossibly ridiculous." The cub would had fa
"Get them all to the Agora." That was Ja Lia. The phrase was addressed to one of those gladiators who was given to undaunted reverence to the professed master. He wasn't as broad and hefty as Cyclops, but had his own pluses. He was quite the hefty also, only that his laps were shifted sideways, such that when he walked, it seemed as though he was going to collapse. Heavens knew how he'd been able to survive sundry battles with such odd two legs. In such a form. Probably he wasn't inflected with ill-luck as compared to the callous Cyclops. He left to prune the biddings of the marred master. After the marred massacre of both the hefty gladiators and the defected, leopards that survived the malady were sent back to their hoods while the dead were boiled to commemorate the defeat of the cowards and incompetents. It was usually a rite to celebrate the