His kitchen was a hush as all fell asleep,
Stomachs stuffed with cured mead, bread, and meat.
The feast flung songs up high to the heavens,
Now a faint dripping sound was all that could be found.
Drip, drop, drip, not all were asleep,
Drip, drop, drip, not a sink did he keep,
Yet drip, drop, drip, sang the liquid with the ground,
Then a slosh and a spat, something wet moved around.
Drip, drop, drip went the rag as it flipped,
Wiping and lapping up the spills like a whip.
Slosh, pop, slosh, the mop made a dive,
With a vigor it glided as if it were alive.
For the night was the time the kobolds came alive,
Those hunched over ugly little creatures of the mines.
With faces like shriveled up old coats; not mink,
And skin hard as stone and red as brick.
Hey love. So I decided to change the tone a bit this time and share something from my Work in Progress. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Kobolds?
They’re a strange little fascinating sprite-like creature not quite unlike the brownie. You know, those tiny little magical creatures that are invisible to the human eye and for whatever reason do random house chores for a bowl of milk or cream?
The kobold is sort of like that, only it’s horribly ugly, hunched over, and somewhat resembles a lizard, or is it a rat, sometimes both… hahaha. I really love fantasy, it’s fun to mess up with readers’ minds.
Imagination is the truest form of magic. Don’t you agree?
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