The Tale of the Mourning KingThere once was a wise, good happy king
Whose kingdom flourished every way
In the castle joy and laughter did ring
Yet it all changed one day
The king awoke mournful and silent
"What is your sorrow, what is all this?"
Asked his daughter, the princess twin
"It is my sorrow, I have seen all there is.
In south, their birds speak, not sing
In north, a spit in the air will freeze
In west a horse was named a dean
And in east their goats climb trees
What could there be I have not seen?"
So thus the princess begun a great tourney
Prizing a golden horse for the one to show
What the king had not seen in his journey
Yet came nothing the king had not known
One day came a rover, rugged and thin
Who to the gatekeeping guards did grin
"Let me pass, for I shall be the one to win"
Confused, the guards did let him in
Before the king, gave the rover a bow
The queerest thing the king had seen since
"What do you have, that I do not know?"
"For that, my lord, I must ask for the prince."
The prince arose, and
One hundredI never planned to become this old. Though obviously, through my years I have come to find, that reality has little interest when it comes to the plans of human beings. When I was young, I was convinced I was old and hoped to die young. I'm not sure whose fortune it was that I happened to be a coward and managed to avoid such a fate. I spent several decades marvelling at how much of an idiot I was, but later on I have realised that during those years, I was an idiot too. I began to doubt all my thoughts, and then on decided to stop thinking. A waste of good time, that was.
I suppose it's natural, but time does seem to speed up as it goes on. I guess the old simply won't need as much of it as the young do. It feels when I was the age of my grandchildren, there was never enough time, and each moment of it that passed was wasted. What a horrible crime it felt like, back then.
I could never forgive myself. That I wasn't talented, smart, or handsome. It truly was a crime, being human. Or wo
SonjaIt was dark when it happened. Sonja was walking home from ballet practice, it must not have been much later than six o'clock. The sky was ink black, there were no stars. The world was dyed orange by the street lamps. She lived by the edges of Kurjenlampi, though a town of its size hardly had a centre to begin with. A twofold shadow appeared before her, their sides forming a darker patch where they overlapped, and slid by her side to her back, allowing a new one to form at her front. She had started to like their shape.
She had grown over the past fall, signs of childhood starting to fade from her face. Her hair was growing out. As little as she would admit it to anyone, if she learnt to put on makeup like Aliisa, she could be just as beautiful. Wrapped up in her thoughts and plans, she hardly hear the few quickly approaching steps before it hit her. Her cheek hit the pavement. Beside the numbing pain on her shoulder, she sensed the thing standing above her. She wanted to turn her head