Contents:  

Index  

About Alphie 

Poetry 

Page 1  

Page 2  

Page 3  

[Ballad]

Stories 

Art 

Links 

Sign GBook 

View GBook 

Geocities

Trial of a Young Man 
Obsidian night, the pale moon shone  
Between the firs, its light quite wan.  
The wind wound 'round a dusty path,  
And sounded like an evil laugh.  

Crouched by the path in wait of day,  
Was a young man, who had lost his way.  
Red hair curled around his head,  
Quiet, lest he wake the dead.  

Stillness broken by movement, next,  
Piercing screams from creatures vexed.  
Drawn, the young man followed the sound  
To find three creatures collapsed upon the ground.  

The clearing glowed an etherial light,  
And the young man wondered how on this night  
He found this otherworldly land.  
His attention was it's one demand.  

He approached the creatures and wondered what  
Could cause them such ill-fated luck.  
In demented sadness, they shook their chains,  
Their howls of grief were long sustained.  

The young man was compelled to free  
Those saddened creatures of beauty - those three:  
Two flaxen-haired, and with blue eyes.  
The other was dark, and made his heart sigh.  

The dark one stood and beckoned to him  
And told him of a book within  
A cavern, guarded by a dragon old.  
To get it he must be very bold.  

"Inside this book," the dark one said,  
"Is the tale of us - we are undead.  
The book holds the secret to our release,  
Sneak past the dragon and get it, please!"  

The young man set off towards the cave.  
His facial expression was very grave.  
To risk his life was foolish, he knew,  
But to save the creatures - that he would do.  

The dragon, looking much like Death,  
(With a greyish tinge to the scales on his head,)  
Lay upon the cold stone floor,  
Silently he slept, evil to the core.  

Quietly sneaked by the dragon, he did,  
And found a box with a golden lid.  
Opening the box he found the book:  
"An old one," he judged, from the well-worn look.  

A sound came from where the dragon lay 
And startled the man, who was making his way 
Back to where the creatures were. 
He hoped a fight would not occur. 

The dragon's tail shifted and almost caught 
The man, but luckily, quickly he thought 
To jump over the giant lizard's tail 
On which were spikes, as sharp as a bunch of nails. 

With his task of retrieving the book now done 
He opened the pages to chapter one. 
And, it seems, the dragon slept 
Through all this, though the creatures wept. 

The story told of Death - a dragon - who  
Needed legions of men to do  
Evil deeds, (which I will not mention)  
That he could not do in our dimension.  

And so, Death captured the ladies three  
Despite their crying and their pleas.  
And Death enslaved them to do his work:  
To lure men to the clearing, wherein he lurked.  

And when the men are caught, it said,  
They will be transformed into Undead. 
Undead creatures without their own minds; 
Not caring if they destroy mankind. 

He turned the page and out fell a key.  
"That is the one, now us you can free"  
Said the two flaxen-haired creatures - then;  
"Before Death - the dragon - comes out of his den!"  

With key in hand he approached them, and  
Unlocked the shackles, upon their demand.  
They gratefully thanked the man and told him  
That now evil Death could never win.  

"You acted out of truth - not lust  
And so did what you knew you must.  
Now the legions will never be filled,  
Because we no longer can take men's will."  

The lady-creatures vanished and so  
The young man waited for night to go.  
He found the path leading into town,  
And as he walked, he heard a sound:  

The chorus of a thousand men  
Free at last, going up to Heaven.  
As well as that, the young man heard  
A screeching cry - much like a bird...  

"Perhaps it was Death - the dragon," he thought,  
And walked on, happy with the life he bought  
Through truth, instead of forging his soul  
Into a demonic, empty black hole.  

From that night on this tale is told,  
To make men wise whom Death, so bold  
Tempts, with hopes of increasing his numbers.  
With foolish desires, "sense" is encumbered. 

 
1