Pink Poogle Toy Forum

Comments, flames and rotten tomatoes welcome. Preferably constructive ones, but beggars can't be choosers.

Light-plague

Building like disaster in the air,
I feel it growing stronger - everywhere,
Like a plague of light.

I sing, I dance, the people start to stare,
Do they really think I care?
Only one thing matters,
Now the time draws near.
I have more sense of hope than need of fear.


Illusion

I stand alone.
Your blood runs thicker than water,
In my hands, my eyes, my hair
And it sticks there.

Twisted shapes for reason,
Invisible pain and elation
Shaping my world.

Hiding from you,
Where the shadows will
Never betray my position.
I creep
Closer and closer to some
Great conclusion.
I can’t help but wonder, is this an illusion?

On fear I fly, fearless with hope
Desperation lends bravery…
My breath catches, and I slump.
How could you trust me, again?

I can’t.

Half-dreaming (or A Meeting With Leo)

“I don’t ever want to be seperated from this.”

The breeze was almost dark in the air, simpering as it whistled past, carrying with it dust and rain. Horace sighed and turned back, half-curious, half-scared.

“Don’t worry. This gift, it runs in your blood… as much a part of you as your very soul. No matter how far you go, or what happens to you on the way, deep inside you will still be… one of us.”

“Thank you… you… you don’t know how much your words mean to me.” Wiping a tear from his eye, the boy peered into the sky as if trying to fathom the clouds. “You’ve always been my greatest friend.”

“And only, if truth be told.”

“Yes… that is very true. I’ve always had trouble socializing. It just feels like everyone’s out to get me, and for a while, I was so scared that I trusted no one.”

“I know how that feels,” the voice said, rippling with wisdom. “Remember that you are not alone – for as long as you do, you will never have to feel that way again.”

Silence reigned for a moment or two, then the breeze rushed past again. The change in atmosphere was subtle but significant.

“I can’t be here any more,” the boy said, half-choking on his words. “I don’t belong here. Look at me – I’m a freak; not fit to be called a human.” He paused, thinking on his words. “What does it all mean?”

“You do not know because you are simply not ready. When you are, the knowledge will be so plain to you, that you will wonder how you never saw it before. And certainly, you are no monster – what’s past is past, and all things are not quite as they seem to be.”

“I’ll remember that.” The tears were drying now, though his eyes were still a freakish pink. “We all make mistakes, don’t we? Even you…”

“Yes. Even me. This is all part of the human condition, and one that ensures our ability to learn and grow. Make good use of it; we lean against that which resists us, and you will have more than your share of… resistance in the coming months.” Horace picked up on the pointed comment.

“…how do you mean? Is something happening?”

“I wish I could tell you more, but the knowledge would damage you – and as of yet, you are not prepared to take this strain. If you were to be destroyed, the future face of humanity would be permanently changed.”

Again, silence fell, coating the air with peace. It was a surprise to Horace when the voice spoke again, in its rough, british accent.

“I can sense that you have your doubts, my friend. How so? Have you not seen the truth within these walls, that they have protected you from terrible damage, and proven a sanctuary from the evils of the world?” The voice spoke gently, but there was such a note of urgency within it that Horace replied instantly.

“You speak the truth, friend, for I am consumed with doubts and fears wherever I go! Maybe I am unfit to be a part of this, after all…”

“Stop! Do not think in this way. You are the making of your mind – whatever you process, you become. Therefore, you could make yourself unfit for your purpose through the sheer power of thought!”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

“It’s all in the perspective. With carefully chosen changes, your life could be as successful as mine was. Please, don’t let yourself fall into the trap you lay; your life is more valuable than this.”

“Was… then, you were a human.” Horace had assumed so all along, though he had kept his thoughts to himself.

“Once.”

“I know the value in life, but was I not born damaged? My mind is built differently than most, and it has proven something of a burden, though I would rather be like this than like… them.”

“You just answered your own question. If you were born damaged, you would see not the difference between yourself and the others; yes, you may have difficulty, but with that difficulty comes an increased understanding of your world. That is something beyond any value in your time, as you will come to… understand… shortly.” Here the voice seemed to sigh, though with sadness or exhaustion, Horace could not tell.

“Though I have done much under false impressions, and caused hurt to many. I know I will continue to do so if I trust them, or let them trust me.”

“Yes, Horace – you have damaged those you love, and those you trust. But you didn’t know. You possess a unique naivety that blinds you, in a sense, and one of your greatest battles will be overcoming that blindness.”

“I will do whatever it takes.”

“If you speak the truth, young friend, then you may at last be on the way to repair. Remember always that different does not equal better or worse – just different.”

“I have one last question for you, my great guardian: I fear constantly. I see death and danger in everything, and am acutely aware of the fact that our universe and everything in it could reverse or implode at any moment. How may I overcome this?”

“You walk a fine line: tread wrongly, even by half a cell, and you will descend into madness; but if you manage to keep your path straight, this will provide much motivation. It will require great perseverance above all, and perhaps a small measure of luck, but I trust you will build on your gifts and learn to lean against that which resists you.”

“I don’t fully understand what you said—“

“And you don’t need to. When the time comes, you will understand all. Remember… what I have said… friend,” the voice said. “And last of all, remember this: my name is Leo, and I… will always be here.”

The fantasy dissolved. Colours churned into moving blurs, rebuilding themselves as they went – Horace spun senselessly, feeling his way forward, out of the proverbial wardrobe and into the safety of reality. His eyes sprung open.

“I will remember.”