The Legend of Tyree: Part 2 - Journey to the Throne

Well, I'm starting writing this whilst currently in a pointless lecture. Oh, the value of modern education eh? So rather than learning stuff I already know about English Literature, I thought I'd do something constructive and carry on with my current story project. Here we go!


Tyree shielded his eyes from the harsh glare of the last rays of sunlight for the day. He sighed as he hefted his hoe from the fallen beast's carcass. He cricked his neck and stretched out his tired muscles once more. He ran a hand through his short, dusty brown hair, bleached from being out in the sun for so many weeks at a time. He looked back to his field and frowned. He'd done nowhere near enough work to earn his coin today and so the landowner would probably be overjoyed. A free day's labour. Tyree usually did far more than any average worker, and yet still only received a standard wage for a field worker. He looked to Kelni and yawned, smiling, "So, I don't want to sound rude, but what brings an elf to Vaymouth? I mean, I've seen elves before, but with such a limited grasp on the common tongue, you don't strike me as much of a traveller..." Kelni blinked; a look of confusion spread over her face, "Speak slower, Farmh- ummm, Tyree... Kelni not travellinger, no. Kelni brought as slaveling. Kelni expected to work for nasty man. Kelni escape!" As she spoke, she became more and more agitated at her situation. Tyree couldn't help but chuckle as she moved through the motions of acting out her capture and journey, and her daring escape from her captors.

The two newly met companions strode back within the walls of the town. Tyree frowned, as the majority of the taverns had already filled so there was little in the way of a chance to eat before returning home. He wasn't hoping to take Kelni back to where he lived. He knew that food was scarcer still within his home, and he did not want to stress his poor mother, declining in health as she was. He looked back to Kelni; her eyes were darting around the streets at the townspeople. It was clear that she was nervous. If she'd escaped from slavers, as she claimed, then it was understandable that she should worry about being back within the walls of the town.

Tyree took a slight detour, leading Kelni down a little side street and down to the banks of the river Vay. He thought that the quiet of the riverbank walk would be better for the elf's nerves. Their were still fishermen on the banks. The Vay was famous for its large schools of Calderfish, a delicacy within Galastia, and so the banks would usually have many a fisherman plying his trade and casting his nets - but even with this small crowd, they were too busy with their work to pay any attention to the two wanderers or even notice the fact that one was an elf.

It was clear that Kelni was more at ease. She began to whistle while they walked, a haunting, yet melodious tune. Tyree, soothed by the music, glanced back to her and smiled. He noticed how her hair shone in the sun, almost set by now, but still granting the last of its golden orange glow to the town. The minutes passed quickly as Tyree followed the path home. He paused at the end of the lane. Something felt wrong. There were no animals howling, not even his own pet. Bracken, a tamed and trained timber wolf, had been Tyree's closest friend since being a pup. They had grown up together after Tyree's father, a local woodsman, had taken the boy out with him one day. Tyree discovered the pup beneath a mound of fallen fern branches, crushed by the weight and barely breathing. The child, Tyree, scooped the wolf pup within his arms and hurried back to his father and then the two of them - father and son - took the pup to the local apothecary where it was nursed back to health. Since then, the two had been inseparable, and Bracken always knew when Tyree was close to home, always giving a howl of excitement upon sensing, or smelling, or however the wolf knew his master was near.

Today, there was no howl. Tyree gave a swift backwards glance to Kelni before breaking into a run for his house. He cast the door aside and his eyes shifted hurriedly over the scene before him; furniture was overturned, cabinets and chests cracked open - their contents strewn across the floor and there, in the middle of the room, there lay his mother. Bracken was lay curled next to her, whimpering and licking behind her ear. Their was a small pool of blood surrounding her head like a grim halo. She was still breathing, but only barely. He dropped to his knees by his mother's side and held her, Bracken looking at his master with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. Tyree fought back the tears. "Mami? Mami!" Her eyes fluttered open for the briefest of moments to see her son and she coughed, a slight spatter of blood trickled over her lips and marred her chin with crimson stains. "Tyree... My little Ty-ty..." She coughed once more. Tyree held her close and Kelni stood agape at the door, hands clasped over her mouth in shock. "Mother, what happened?!" She managed to open her eyes once more and pressed her bloody lips to his cheek in a gentle kiss, "Osterman... It, was... Osterm-" and with that, her eyes closed for the final time. She fell limp within her son's arms and he cradled his head to her chest, crying out with rage, sorrow, with anguish and hatred!

He placed his mother upon the floor and turned to Kelni. "You, Kelni. You said you used magic to heal me in the field. I beg you, please. Aid my mother now!" The elf looked blankly between Tyree and his fallen mother, pausing in thought before shaking her head, "Kelni cannot. This magic works only on living. Kelni not strong enough to bring life to death." Tyree nodded. He expected as much, but he was desperate. Bracken nuzzled against Tyree's leg as Kelni took a step further into the house, "Your mother mentioned name. Who be?" Tyree crouched and patted Bracken's head before he moved and opened a trapdoor within the floor. He pulled a large, ironbound, ornate chest from it and released the clasp. "Osterman, Miguel Osterman... He's the captain of the local guard..." He reached into the chest and pulled from it a cuirass of strongest steel, inlaid with the finest mithril filligree. Alongside this, he laid another item, wrapped within a long piece of fine red fabric. He unravelled the fabric and held the sheathed sword so the golden hilt reflected in the lantern light and then fastened the scabbard to his belt. He donned the cuirass and held up the red fabric, tying it about his neck like a scarf. After taking up and donning this revered heirlooms of his namesake, he looked once more to Kelni, "Osterman is also notorious for being the head of the local cartel... The whole town knows this, but the Thronelord does nothing about it because Osterman keeps him happy with a cut of his takings. This is gone on for too long now! And I intend to change it..."



That's it for today. I made a longer post because, I did start writing this yesterday, but due to a few complications, I got sidetracked, so I've effectively done two day's worth of writing in a single post. I hope you enjoy it! If there's one thing I relish as a writer, it's the birth of a new hero. I hope you like it too... Please feel free to leave feedback!

Craiggy.

50th Post. The Legend of Tyree: Part One - A new legend begins!

Okay guys, I know it's been a long time since my last update, and I do apologise, but life has been so hectic as of late. But anyhoo, this is my 50th update, if my maths is correct, and so I thought I'd continue on with my previous fantasy fiction update, the story of Tyree, and carry it on as another short story project to see what happens with it. In a way, this is an apology to all of you for being so behind on my writing, but also, it's a personal challenge for me to get back on top of my writing because I plan on entering some contests later in the year. So here we go, The Legend of Tyree.


You know the tales of the ancient hero, Tyree, the man who tried to free his people from the Reldanian Empire. That was an age ago now. The decades have passed and now the mantle of Tyree has fallen to his descendant of the same name - Tyree Dalfnen, third son of Lorae Dalfnen, great granddaughter to Tyree Hayde. This Tyree of this day and age was born and raised within the slums of an eastern town within Galastia, that of Vaymouth. Vaymouth, port of the east, waterborne jewel of the eastern coast as the merchants called it, a town of deceit, of corruption, of new beginnings. Ever since Tyree had proved himself a man in the trials of passage and growth, he swore that he would seek out and strive for a better life for himself and his mother. Upon growing further, as a man of nineteen, strong of body due to years of labour in the fields and stables, working hard for barely enough coin to live, Tyree became more and more aware of the exploits of his ancestor. It had been only one hundred and twenty years since his great great grandfather's heroic last moments of life and still the people of Galastia were oppressed, their spirits crushed once more beneath the iron clad feet of Reldania. Young Tyree decided that he would not stand for this injustice. Just as his ancestor rose to fight, he decided that something must be done once more, and that it was his rightful place in life to do so, to be the catalyst for his generation.

It was summer. Work in the field was hard as the sun glared down, cracking the dirt beneath Tyree's feet as he ploughed. He paused, wiped the sweat from his brow and cast his ragged shirt aside. He relished the heat upon his chest, but knew that he would have to stop to drink soon. With a sudden outburst of shrieking and flapping, crows stormed from the next field over, startled by something. Tyree grasped his hoe and hurried to seek the cause of the commotion.

There, in the next field, Tyree stood aghast as he saw a boar - at least, it looked like a boar, only much larger, and much more ferocious. The beast had multiple tusks, each sharpened to the finest and sharpest of points; it had a crest of horns like those of a bull atop its head and its eyes glistened a fierce and malicious red in the afternoon sunlight. There, before the beast, scrabbling backwards in the dirt, trying to escape the beast was an elven maid. Elves were rare in this part of Galastia, though they sometimes arrived with the merchant ships from other coastal nations - This was rare though, as few ever left their homesteads, so Tyree was stunned to see one within the outskirts of Vaymouth, almost as stunned as he was at the sight of the beast itself. It was then that Tyree gripped the shaft of his hoe tighter and, as if by instinct, as if ingrained into his very being from his ancestral heroic bloodline, he held the farming tool ready like a spear and charged, giving a gutteral roar as his feet carried him ever forwards at an increasing pace.

Tyree awoke, as if from from a night's slumber. His head ached and the sun was lower now within the sky. The elf was looking over him and held a damp rag to his brow. She was radiant. Hair as silver as the moon, tied in braids about her head and with eyes of deepest blue like the night sky. "Am, am I dead?" Tyree tried to sit up, but his body resisted. The elf looked at him quizzically for a moment before smiling, "Not dead, no. Farmhand saved Kelni from pig demon. Kelni grateful." Tyree struggled once more and managed to sit this time. "Kelni. That's your name?" The elf nodded eagerly. Tyree looked over, his head still throbbing. There lay the boar-beast, hoe embedded halfway up the shaft within its side, the point of the tool's head jutting out through the beast's skull. "Farmhand fought with the strength of many men. Farmhand killed pig demon, but then Farmhand looked sick and fell to the ground. Kelni used magic of my people. Farmhand feel better now, yes?" Tyree only half heard her words through the pounding within his skull. He had killed the beast? He forced himself to stand and looked to the elf girl. He offered her a hand up and nodded "Much better, thank you. Your common tongue is a little rough." He paused and managed a smile, "And my name's Tyree..."


That's all for today folks. I'm gonna hopefully carry this on tomorrow.

Peace, love, and everything in between!!

Craiggy.

Paths.

Here's something I wrote last night... I was having a bit of an introverted, thinky moment and just started writing. I still don't feel as though I'm properly writing again, but I plan on doing something special for my next post as it'll be my 50th update. So for now, here's a little something that I call Paths.

Paths.

What is it for, this life that we lead?

Is there a reason to struggle, to cry and bleed?

I think, therefore I am.

Does this truly define me as a man?

Choices, decisions, and the dreams we pursue.

The chances we take and the things that we do,

They all amount for what in the end?

To accumulate, on Facebook, a greater list of friends?

I find it hard to sometimes decide

If it was worth passing up these choices, now denied.

But thinking on aspects of this life I now own,

I have no regrets. No remorse to be shown.

Sure, this life has not always been kind,

But never do I wish to stop and rewind.

Our lives are defined by our history.

It is my past that makes me what is me.

This past I have lived, these choices made,

They shape my future, my next crusade.

Doubt is fleeting, but this life is my eternity.

I walk the road that is chosen by me.

I know I am guided, my feet are led along.

I know my faith and my love shall keep me strong.

This path I have chosen, though it may not seem so clear,

This path is the one I walk, and the one that I do hold dear.

Someday, more choices will appear.

Their ugly faces once more bring fear

And doubts that I must face within my mind,

But I know the next path holds a new adventure to find.

Hope you like it. Now I'm gonna go and enjoy a nice hot cup of t- oh wait... I've given up tea for lent... Damn this is gonna be a long 40 days.

Peace out,

Craiggy.

Grumble...

Okay... If there was one word to sum up how I feel right now, it'd be weary... It's not that anything bad is happening to get me feeling like this, I just feel as though I may be doing too much as of late and so am feeling drained as a result. This is kind of also why I've not posted anything for a few days, plus I'm still kinda struggling with this whole writer's block thing. But regardless, I'm gonna try and write something anyways, so here goes.


Tyree's grip loosened from his sword hilt. His vision was blurring and the obscuring opaqueness of blood running over his face trickled over his eyes. He shook his head clear and glanced at his armour. His chainmail was practically in tatters and his breastplate was dented and punctured in several places. He couldn't remember a time when he felt so much pain. Every movement, even the slightest flinch caused agony to race across his body.

He was surrounded. Tyree knew that he had to do something. He wouldn't be captured, not again! He crouched, allowed himself  a moment for his head to stop spinning and clear a little. He wiped the blood from his face with his scarf; his father always taught him that all the best heroes wore scarves... If he was to lead his people to freedom against the Reldanian Empire then he had to be a figure of inspiration, of bravery and of strength; it was his father's words in these times that comforted him. He grasped his sword once more and stood slowly, glancing at the horde of Reldanians now surrounding him, spears and swords readied to strike him down. His own forces were scattered or lay battered and broken on the ground around him.

He offered a short, silent prayer to his father's spirit for guidance and protection. If he was to die today, then he would die a hero's death and would live forever in the hearts and souls of those who would stand to carry on his legacy. With this in mind, Tyree was able to smile as he broke and ran into the awaiting wall of steel and malice before him. This was a day when legacies were forged, and when heroes were made. This was the day that started the brave revolution of the Free Nation of Galastia. This was the day where Tyree Hayde fell; where his sword struck the ground for the final time, and where it remained within the hearts of his people still to this day, so still they stand, and still they fight. This is their story.


So, something I might pick up when I can figure out if/what I want to do anything with it...

Adios,
Mr. Craiggy.

No comment...

What can I say? It feels like forever since I last posted anything, and in a way, it has. Recently I've just felt as though I've lost my drive for writing. It's not that I don't want to write; I do. It's just that I feel as though I've lost my direction. I've had writer's block before, but never quite to this degree... It's not for any specific reason either, which I find most annoying. If I could attribute this feeling to something, then I could hopefully aim to also remedy it, but not in this case... Ah well. Aside from this, life's great! Started a new job, had a few standup gigs and am just generally enjoying life. So, until I can get my drive back, I'm digging into the vaults of Craiggy brand creativity... This one's an old story project I started a few years back, so the writing style might not be what you'd expect, as I'd like to think I've developed a little as a writer, but I still like it on the whole. Let me know what you think?

Chapter 1

            ---Journal entry 01. Date: Classified. Time: Classified. --- I'm not sure what time it was when I finally woke up, the clock was flashing midnight, note to self... Fix clock. All I had was blurred memories of the previous week, all too hazy to be sure which were real and which were the last few remaining semi-conscious fantasies I had to enjoy before I truly considered myself "Awake". My guns lay on the table next to me; I picked one up, and as always, took a moment to thank her for the number of scrapes she and her sister had gotten me out of. I could tell by the weight that I had about eight bullets left in her. Not much, but it'd be enough, more than enough...

            If you're reading this, then you're probably confused already, it all sounds a bit cliché right? A man with a faded past, referring to his guns as "Her" and "Sisters"... Yeah, well, that was my life pretty much in a nutshell, one big cliché... Well, it was, until...

            There was a knock at my hotel room door, that was what woke me up I think. I hastily put on some pants and my long coat, hiding my guns underneath the flowing material in their interwoven holsters... You can never be too careful in this business I've found. Another knock, "Just a minute, you don't wanna see me naked do ya?!" I shouted as I made my way to the door, opened it about halfway... No one there, hmm, I looked down and stood there was the little girl from the room across from mine, no older than four, five tops, pink sunday summer dress and a big brown teddy to go with her big brown eyes... I paused for a moment; I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks as I blushed, great... I just propositioned a child... What a way to start my day.

            Tears were streaming down her eyes, not recent ones, but it was clear that she'd not long since finished crying. She dropped her bear and wrapped her arms around my waist, well, I say waist, the sprout was so small, she could only reach part way up my thighs. I crouched down and looked her in her eyes, those big, brown, watery eyes "Mister, M-mister... Those bad men... Th-the bad m-men got my M-M-mommy..." Now, I didn't know this kid much at all, I barely even knew her Mother, only in passing... But something deep down struck a chord, maybe I'm just a sucker, maybe I'm too good for my own good... I'll never know, but one thing I knew for sure back there and then, and even to this day, that kid changed my life... Here's how the story goes.

            It wasn't long before the girl, who I now knew was called Cara, had taken me to the alleyway where her mother was beaten and taken away in a car, all she said was the car was blue... Which, needless to say didn't help me much. Cara and her mother were only up here for a few days visiting relatives from what she told me, her auntie was sick so she had come up to make her feel better her mother said, said that Cara was her favourite niece and seeing her always made her feel better... Cute, real cute... With what little money I could spare without going to the cash point, I hired an extra room for her to stay in, seeing as she was locked out of her own, I still hadn't figured out at this point why it was I was helping this little sprite and I knew it would be a while before I did, if I did at all...

            ---Journal entry 02 Date: Classified. Time: Classified. --- Night came, and, after a day of retracing the kid's steps with her Mom, I still had nothing, except a lighter wallet and aching feet. I made sure that she was all tucked away in her room and fast asleep before I went back to my own. I put my guns on my bedside table, more out of habit now than for any decent reason of them being close to hand, and then sat at the end of my bed, stared blankly at the ceiling and prayed, yeah... Again with the clichés, but I honestly did... and I know I ain't a religious guy or anything, infact, truth be told, church was probably near the bottom of my "To do" list, but even I could acknowledge the fact that I needed help on this one. S'funny, I still appreciate the irony, even to this day, infamous assassin like myself, repeatedly breaking one of if not the most famous of the commandments for a living... And I still asked the big guy for help. Funny huh. Yeah, that was the last thing I remember doing before waking up again, still with the same shadows running around in my mind... It was like they'd all decided to gang up on me and make fun, maybe it was just one big childish prank my mind was playing on me, or maybe it was my punishment for all the lives I've ended, yeah, that'd be it, a cursed life of torment to justify the lives that I'd ended... Yeah, great... Thanks for that, remind me to punch the Devil in the face for that one when I see him next.

            Usual routine, I checked my girls to see they're working fine, you know, the loader, the sight etcetera... Again, more out of habit now, I know they're more than fine, they've never failed me yet and they're not about to soon... I smiled as I held them up to the light, custom jobs both of them, Star and Phoenix, my girls, my guns, my life... Sad I know, but everyone has to have a hobby... Once again, Cara knocks on my door, this time I was expecting it, I can remember smiling as I opened the door, strange, don't remember doing that for a good few years, but something about her, about knowing I was doing good in helping her, even if there was nothing I could do at all... Just knowing that she felt reassured by my trying to help made me feel a heck of a lot better about myself... Poor kid, must be tough not knowing where you mother is... I can only just remember mine, at least, who I think was my Mom, again, just another of my "fuzzies" as I've come to less than affectionately refer to them. She reminds me of an angel, at least, what I think and angel would look like... My Mom I mean, not Cara... Aww man, listen to me, raving on about things I'm not even sure are my memories, I sound like a senile old fool! Heck, I'm barely twenty four!! She was wearing some clothes that I was guilted into buying for her yesterday, I checked my clock. DAMNIT!! Still not fixed it yet... Note to self, set the darn clock!! I checked my watch, it was coming up to noon... I looked down to her and smiled "Hey there kid.. Sleep well?" stupid question, kid's so worried about her Mom she probably didn't sleep at all... Try to think before you open you're big mouth in future Kal... I think the kid just humoured me with her reply, she just smiled and nodded, I invited her in and she sat on my bed, kicking her little feet as she hugged her teddy close to her chest... I was hoping to get some work done before she woke up, I'd planned on tapping into the hotel's CCTV tapes, I noticed there was a camera in the alleyway Cara took me to yesterday, boy was I hoping that it was still connected to the system...

            ---Journal entry 03. Date: Classified. Time: Classified.--- Cara ended up showing me where her Auntie and Uncle lived, I left her with them for the day, they didn't ask questions, they just assumed I was her Mom's new boyfriend or something, which suited me fine, the less questions asked, the less I had to lie about in front of the kid. I headed back to the hotel and cracked out my computer, using some gadgety gizmo thing I picked up in Tokyo that allowed me to plug into any phone line anonymously and charge it to some dude in Sweden, apparently, the guy's so rich, he doesn't even notice the extra missing money... Pretty sweet, but it also lets me tap into local networks, which is the main reason I got it. It shouldn't take me too long to find the security files and... Damnit, security files're locked up, passwords, firewalls, nothing major, but it could eat up some time. So here we are, I'm writing this as I set my computer to run an auto-decoder program, another gem I picked up in Tokyo, man I love that city... Cheap beer, cheap technology and plenty of jobs for a guy like me.

            I finally get access to the CCTV videos and check them out, whoa, lot of drug dealers and hookers use that alley, but that's beside the point. I finally find what I'm looking for, seems I'm dealing with total amateurs here... They're riding in a sky blue, soft top muscle car, very discreet. I jot down the plate details and close the network before anyone figures out I've even hacked them. It’s not long before I'm running searches on every car registry database I can find, legal or otherwise. "Damnit!!" could probably heard throughout the halls as I punched the wall in frustration, seems these "amateurs" were smarter than I gave them credit for, the damn car was a rental... Lousy smart-ass, lucky, damn amateurs! This was going to be harder than I thought...

            ---Journal entry 05. Date: Classified. Time: Classified.--- I tracked the car down to a shore side rental shop by the name of "Happy Larry's". The name almost made me puke, the stench of cheese was so strong... It was even worse when I actually got there. This place was so stereotypical, it actually physically hurt, neon sign outside with missing letters so it actually read "Hap----arr--s", nice, oh man, some of the cars were total wrecks, I was surprised they would even run. I had the kid with me, it was getting late and her Auntie's house had no spare rooms, hence her and her Mom staying in the hotel. I found myself speaking to the guy who owned the place, Larry, who, contrary to belief, was not all too happy... Infact, he was a short, balding, fat, sweaty guy with a bent Cuban cigar behind his ear and grease stains on his shirt, I make a mental note of his face, might need to remember it later, as much as I'd hate to. Something inside me just wanted to punch him in the face, there and then, but I didn't want to leave a bad influence on Cara. Poor kid. I asked the man if I could see his business records, giving him some bluff about how I was from the local tax office and that it was a surprise check... Naturally he asked about Cara, I just shrugged and said it was "Bring your kid to work day" and then went into a mumbled rant about the government being too lax on public schooling... He seemed to buy it as we went inside his shack of an office and placed three large, grubby looking ring binders on the desk in front of me, even with speed reading, it'd take me a good hour, hour and a half to find what I was looking for, and that was if I struck it lucky and found the car in the first file. Naturally, I didn't, it was about two thirds the way through the second file before I found my muscle car and its mystery driver, a man by the name of Arturo Wells. I memorize the name, credit card details and postal address, even though I get the feeling that it’s a fake.

            Well, I feel I'm close to getting somewhere, this'll probably be the last journal entry for a while as I get the hunch that I'll be out in the 'field' for the next few nights, I managed to arrange it with Cara's Uncle and Auntie that she can stay there for a few nights, its only a couch, but Cara doesn't mind. Poor kid, poor, tough little kid... Well, only one thing to do now, check out this address and see if that gets me anywhere.

---Journal End---

           

            I find myself walking through the streets, trying to find this address. I eventually get to the place... Derelict, great, though there's a group of street thugs around the side of the house, maybe they know something I think to myself. I headed closer to them, trying to keep it cool, not come off as offensive or a threat. "Hey there fellas, a little late to be loitering on private property don't you think?" Well, that certainly got their attention, a big surly bald guy who I swear in any decent cliché would be called either Bubba or Cueball stepped up to me, a good six inches taller than me, his accent clearly an attempt at Latin and his breath smelling of home-brewed Gin, "Yoo got a pro'lem homes?!" I couldn't help but smirk, probably not the best move as I found myself staring down the business end of a fist heading toward my face... Damn.

            Training kicks in, the whole area seems to slow down around me as I duck under his breezeblock sized fist, moving my right arm to latch under his and my hand to rest upon his left shoulder, I step behind with my right leg, classic Judo trip, but instead of just that, I add my own little flare for the dramatic and roll my body so he slides over my back and is pretty much vertical when his head hits the ground. Boy he's going to feel that one in the morning... Whichever one he wakes up on... I stand and the scene shifts back to normal, not even breaking a sweat. The other thugs don't know weather they should run or just stand there wetting their parachute pants... Some do both. I catch one and force him up against the wall and with my free hand, flick some hair out of my face and a few loose dreads out of his so I can get a good look at who I'm questioning. "Okay... 'Homes', you going to tell me what goes on in this building and why they've got such a quick to react if a little slow to think security force of street punks guarding it? Or do you want to end up with a face full of gravel and a skull full of mush like your buddy over there?!" It worked, not only did he let me know about a little drug running operation they had out of this building and that they worked for a man known only as "A", but he was also kind enough to get my new watch wet with his whining and weeping. Quick jaw blow and he's down, I look to my previous opponent and smirk as I can just picture the devil and angel appearing on my shoulders, both saying the same thing... I can't resist, I plant this guy with his hands and nose on his boss's butt, take a moment to chuckle and then head inside, hoping to find something a little more challenging than wannabe G's. And once again, I find myself praying, though subconsciously this time. Praying that I'll see the night through and get Cara back to her Mom... Weird...

Yeah, longer than what I'd normally aim for on this site, but hopefully not too long to be considered boring...

Adios for now,

Craiggy.