Inspired writings evoked randomly by the creative heart
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This is the fan-comic of the Tolkien’s work. It is the English version of the comic which I drew in 2014. Sorry about my poor translation. If there is the person who can translate it, I want to borrow help. Part 1 is a story of Finrod.
The original Japanese version is here.
「人とエルフを巡る7つの謳 ~フィンロドの場合~」 www.pixiv.net/member_illust.ph…
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Turin with Melian & Thingol in Doriath by Денис Гордеев
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Could She?
Does she know? Could she ever know? She lies next to me and I look at her and these feelings rise from some beautiful and distant plane foreign but mercifully connected to this disturbingly contrasting world, and I wonder if she could ever understand not how much I love her - because there is no depth to that - but if she could ever comprehend in just what pure form and force that I love her.
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The Visitor
The steel surface of the table was cold against his cuffed outstretched arms. The seat to which his feet were bound was made of the same cool steel, and the very air was as rigid and cold as metal. A single source of light permeated from a silver lamp hanging stagnant from the darkness above; its ambience pale as sickness.
There came to his senses the distinct scent of hot coffee; scorched in fact, perceived moments before the sound of an opening and solid closing of a heavy metallic door.
The visitor was indiscernible, standing beyond the ring of light. Steam, however, streamed from out of the darkness, carrying with it the aroma of the toasted grounds. A palpable silence occupied the compacted room.
The man constrained spoke first.
“Why don’t you step into the light? Or do you prefer to stay in the dark?”
“No, darkness and concealment is your preference,” a coarse voice replied. “That is why I’ve come - to bring you into the light. Indeed, your very thoughts will be made as writings in stone.”
“Who are you?”
To this question came in answer a figure coming forward into luminosity. Tall, wide, and pale he stood in the black suit of a mortician. His eyes sat like small coals in the deep sockets of his broad pallid countenance. Gripped in his thick hand was a tall white cup from which the burnt fragrance and its accompanying vapor poured.
The seated man looked from the cup to the vacant visage of his visitor.
“Smells a little close to the fire.”
“Yes.”
“Hope that shit isn’t for me.”
The man standing smiled, closed lipped and malicious.
“That is up to you.”
“I’d take a cup of piss over that burnt shit.”
“Yes. You would,” the visitor agreed as he sauntered forward and lowered himself carefully into the chair opposite his acquaintance.
“You do the job, I’ll give you that,” the binded man admitted.
“What job is that?”
“I’m an honest man. You scare the hell out of me.”
“Is that so?”
“Don’t mean you’re gonna get shit from me. I’ll be honest about that too.”
“Fear is only a genuine consequence to my presence. I’ve made no effort to instill any fear in you.”
“Well that’s mighty advantageous for a man of your profession.”
“It is.”
“So, you gonna give me any of that java or not?”
“I thought piss was your preference?”
“Hey man I’ll take whatever I can get. Haven’t had shit in the way of nourishment for what I assume to be nearly two days now.”
“Your reception of what I have to offer depends entirely on your willingness to cooperate.”
“You mean rat.”
“I mean the significant difference between your idea of regret and the regret with which I can leave you.”
“Well, I ain’t no rat. So fuck off back to hell and take your regret with you.”
At this the large man rose. He turned and entered back into the darkness, but no note of the door opening or closing was heard and soon the restrained man became sensible not of the sound but of the very presence of his visitor circling the darkness around him. Suddenly, a corpulent shadow brooded from behind and a wide grip clenched his hair, forcing his cheek to the steel surface of the table. The painful grasp loosened from his hair but before he could attempt to raise his head the hot palm of the same hand moved around and pressed down like a fleshy vice against his upward facing cheek. His excruciating cries were muted even to himself as the searing coffee sweltered in his blistering canal.
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The Ample Flame
There is a story in life that it seems to me all should be chasing, but so quickly we become conformed and complacent with the superficial satisfactions of the world that we at once give up that search that in our youth was so passionately burning in our fresh souls before the damp world checked that ample flame.
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A Short Excersion
Matthew and I walked today paces from one another along the road traversed intermittently by the few but seemingly many vehicular passersby. I heard at one time that unmistakable slinking sound of a snake coiling away behind me into the brush, unseen and unconfirmed. Twenty minutes into the jaunt we passed by a small church alive with musical worship bringing forth in my mind the conventional sentiments of contemporary worship and my adversity to that form of spiritual practice. My God was within and without that place, permeating existential and infinite throughout all manners of wholesome and love based faith and practice. My church was with me on that walk and behind me in the form of companionship with the one slowly padding a few paces to my rear. Rounding another bend thirty minutes into our walk we saw finally the facade of that place for which we endeavored to reach - the commissary of the local inhabitants, myself gladly included among them. Entering therein we forsook the neglected kitchen half operating in the back and chose instead our favored selections from the racks of sealed and processed goods. The managing clerk, kind as she is, prattled on about the difference in weight, and the correlating nutritional information, between three short slim Jims and the single long to which their collected length equaled. I chose the long and wished her a good day. Matthew purchased for himself a small blue icy. Both were finished before our uneventful return and we entered the house contented and energized from our short excersion.
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In Perpetuum
Our souls weave together in some ethereal place far from this transitory plane. Caressing in perpetuity.
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SURGE
The contours of her face is my catharsis, Her eyes my favored jewels. In her soul is where my heart rests, Exploding in ample hues!
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STEPS
We kissed amid the swirling light of our experience, the nectar of desire flowing freely between us. Agape we received one another. Together we observed the desolation of all doubt and dived, naked and crazed, into total desire. Submerging and resurfacing, submerging and resurfacing. Profound professions uttered in the night, emitting in the dark the lucent light of love. Ambient and warm we watched it gather and embraced together a new discovery.
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A Study of Anxiety
I have been so sensible of a pervading darkness lately. Whether this darkness is in shape anxiety, depression, anger, or total confusion - or a horrible amalgam of all - I do not know. I am sure only of its persistent and fundamental presence. Some shroud of an ancient and arcane evil that grips and bites relentlessly at my soul like some wretched leech whose purpose is to cause and to witness with joy my utter destruction. I feed its darkness and in turn it secretes that void into my being so that it can take it up again and inject it again, viciously churning this incessant process of debilitation until I unravel into nothingness.
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Little sketch I did after doing bible study.
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