by

Avalon Falls

At first, all I could see were my hands, they were broken and bleeding.
My dress was thin, silky… torn, blood. Why had I not donned my armour?
Freezing. Bewildered, I rose from the ground in the slate grey of morning
The rain was falling in mist and there was smoke in the air, as if from fire..
Crying… not much… the nothing of dread was inside and eating all my tears…
Bending and picking up one rock after another, I began placing them in a pattern.
The abject fear made my labours frantic. My body, my hands were hurting so bad.
Walking to a little stream nearby, them in the icy water. Flinched at my bruised visage.
When I stood to continue my work, the totality of the fire and destruction, struck me.
And I saw that the rocks and boulders I was trying to put back had once been a castle or keep.
The wind blew graveyard dirges through the mist and the smoke… and I was utterly alone.
Realization dawned, as I looked down on my longbow, quiver and arrows laying on the ground.
The marauders had found us again. We had been breached and this time, they had won.
They had taken down the fortress we had thought to be impervious to any assault.
I fell to my knees weeping.
In the blood that had never stopped flowing from my wounds… mortal, I could see now.
I wrote my last words, in my life’s essence on the the largest stone there.
A warning, a prayer a plea for whomever might find me:

Heed me well and listen because the moral too, is the greatest sin
That mighty Avalon, when she fell, had been attacked by those within…

And so… I close… my…

KeiB, 12 April 2012

 

 

by

Do I Please You?

How odd to be cherished in one moment

Chastised in the next

Don’t mistake my smile in that moment for acceptance or acquiescence

You are not the first to mistake my terms of endearment for something weak. To believe that the gift of my desire is only yours to keep

I have been many women, none of them to be possessed, certainly not to be taken for granted because I please you

Don’t make the mistake of treating me like a child or scorning how I come to you. I can and will withdraw my time and attention and leave for someone who doesn’t spin on a dime. Who doesn’t attempt to control my words and actions when his head is turned by another or the emotion too much to handle

Go if you wish. I won’t hold you back. What you won’t do is make a Watcher feel less while you dabble in tired, boring constructs of relating and communicating. I’m too old, my heart has seen millennia, I’m loved and beloved and no one; man, woman, angel, demon will command who I am, how I speak, those I love or how I live my life

Reciprocate in kind or leave. I won’t break. I survived The Fall.

Can you?

~ KeiB.
22 January 2026

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by

I Dont Understand

Originally published on Facebook Notes 30 November 2011

A sin of omission

Has caused my current condition

Little lie of white

As snow, as the page on which I write

Old scars on my wrists

White too, until I open them for you

A much better ink

Is the blood red in which I think

What will it take

To get through to you

I consider my pen a moment

And then hope my aim is true

Plunge it deep into my eyes

And change their emerald to blue…

———–

It’s how it is now, right?

Everyone is out for what they want

And it’s all there for the picking

A fucking smorgasbord of need

——–

So hurt me with the truth, don’t deceive me with lies

——-

Some people, some of us are just good people

We actually mean what we say

We believe what others tell us

~KeiB, 30 November 2011, shared 30 November 2025

by

The Queen

Originally published on Facebook Notes 24 November 2011

Although she hadn’t been standing there very long, she was cold. The coarse twine that bound her wrists and held them tight to the stake behind her, bit into her skin. The strength of the knots were an unecessary unkindess. Months in a locked room had left her tired, thin and incapable of escape. Not that she wished for it.

This was better. This is what she was reconciled to and accepted.

The sky was dark and glowering, and the cold pre-dawn wind gusted again, whipping the thin white gown around her ankles, clawing her long dark hair from the loose knot she’d attempted. No one to help with her such things anymore. She’d given all the possessions they’d permitted her, to her beloved Juliette on the previous day, kissed her, handed her journals and her signed seal of recommendations.

She could sense the dawn coming before the first lark sang. A change in the quality of the air and light. The two men who’d bound her here hours ago, still stood in an attitude of attention but they had become like the stone walls of the building and compound, inanimate, nothing.

As dawn began it’s ascent, the door to what she knew was a barracks swung open, far down the length of the compound. Twelve uniformed soldiers emerged. The surge she felt was something like, desire to run and scream and a fierce welcoming, all at once.

The last man to emerge, was him. Resplendent in the full dress of his rank. She’d not seen him like this in the months of her captivity. He had not come often, there were others charged with that duty but when he had, his manner had been gentle, solicitous even. She had been grateful for the moments he took to speak to her of the events that continued to swirl on the outside of these walls. The moments when he spoke to her of the world before. Of books, travel, life.

The twelve marched in unison to form a line in front of stone wall that faced her across the dirt of the compound. How her heart ached to see green again! He followed them, standing with his back to her, surrveying the men. There were a few seconds of eternal silence, and then a growl of thunder from the sky broke the moment. He turned abruptly to stride toward her, a clear break with protocol she knew.

When he stood before her, she could see the conflict of emotion on his face.

Buying time, he came closer, making a show of checking the ropes. The only words he spoke, was when he pulled a silk handcherchief from beneath his tabard. “Will you let me do this, at least”? He gestured to her face, offering the only shield he could. She stared into his eyes, hoping to convey a thought he could keep with him and shook her head no. As he started to turn away, she whisperd “Wait”! He turned back, the whisp of silk still in his hand and she said “It must be you. You will do this. One shot. Do not fail me”.

No one but these two could have understood the emotions and words that warred with each other in his eyes; he turned smartly on his heel, with a command and a gesture to one of the two who stood guard. This one disappeared, returning shortly to deliver with a short obeisance, the commander’s crossbow and arrows. He held them for a moment, as if they were something that scorched his hands through the gauntlets, then donned the quiver.

Turning to face the bound woman, he gestured for the twelve behind him to leave. Sensing the hesitation of his second in command, he turned his head slightly and barked “Leave us”! They withdrew quickly, maintaining protocol but clearly shaken by this uncharacteristic outburst from their leader. He stood, head bowed, until only he and the woman remained.

The wind picked up as he faced her, squared his shoulders, then pulled out an arrow and knocked it. And she, regal to the end, in a white serving girl’s slip and her hair unbound as he had seen it only once before; straightened her frail body and… smiled.

The first spear of lightning hit the meadow beyond the wall and as the growl of thunder and first drops of rain began to pelt down on this tableau; he raised the bow, sighting through tears that would not fall.

And his aim was true.

 

~KeiB, 24 November 2011