DARKWHISPERS

Prologue

You’ve probably been on skyship holidays with your family before. In the summer, you would have soared over cities, seas and people gazing up in awe, wishing that they were as lucky as you. When you flew, there would have been clear skies and a warm breeze and boats and cars below.

You would have laughed when this ship flew higher, and rocked about when it turned. You probably landed on one of the neighbouring islands so you could rest and cook in the kitchen. That’s what it’s like in the summer.

But traveling to other islands is a dangerous procedure. You should be there when hybrids surround you and dragons threaten to sink your ship. You should try a journey when your ship is invaded by soul snakes. You should be there when hurricanes are near, and the wind can whisk you and your ship over to another island just like that, and the rain floods your skyship. You should be there when you have no food left and a drop of water in the barrel.

Many would wish that they would encounter a wishing troll and make it right again. Rumours have it that explorers who visit one of the rarest islands could be brutally attacked by the most dangerous animal.

Chapter 1

The crowd erupted into spontaneous applause as the skyship ” The Magpie” flew up into the sky, higher and higher until the people below looked like pins. As the engine whirred in the background, the Magpie turned away and headed off for adventure.

As they waved, Oakley and Lydia Clouding turned to each other, excited looks on their faces. Lydia danced around in circles while Oakley stood still, trying not to rock the ship.

They headed through to the kitchen, their heads full of memories of the last time they’d been on the Magpie. Within an hour, they were off the main island, hovering over the sea.

Lydia pondered quietly to herself, before conferring with Oakley. ” I wonder if we will see Ermitage Wrigglesworth this time! Won’t that be an adventure!” That night, Oakley and Lydia lay on the deck of ship, gazing up at the stars.

They discussed what happened the last time that they were on an airship and how magical it had been, hoping that it would be even better this time.

Chapter 2

Over the next few weeks, the Magpie drifted through the breeze, with Oakley and Lydia enjoying the feeling of flying once again. The next morning, they woke up hovering over a cluster of islands. Lydia looked at Oakley’s map, and realized that they were in The Northern Islands.

Rapidly scanning the islands, Captain Culshaw headed over to the wheel, and turned to face towards the islands. She called out, “Get ready, we’re going to land!” She landed between some trees, narrowly missing some fierce branches. As soon as it was safe to leave the ship, Lydia and Oakley fought their way out to explore. Would they find their old friend, Mr. Ermitage Wrigglesworth?

They all looked around the place that they had landed. Far away they could hear birds squawking and the cool wind whistling. The sun cast down on them, shining on the ship, as they turned and familiarized with their surroundings. They turned to see a type of…shelter? It was wrecked and broken but the door still stood.

The door creaked open and they began to rummage around, looking for clues. Lydia discovered an old, tattered box, that was covered in dust. Captain Culshaw walked over, Oakley by her side. It was a letter addressed to someone named Captain. Lydia opened it, and read it aloud.

I will come back as fast as I can, but for now, I am trapped, and looking for a way off this island, for I, E.W, shall perish. As far as I know, I may not come back alive, so prepare for the worst. If I never see you again, farewell.

“E.W…E. W” Oakley said the name over and over again, hoping the solution would magically appear in his mind. “E.W…” then he clicked his fingers. “Ermitage Wrigglesworth!” he exclaimed. “But who’s Captain?” Lydia and Oakley turned to face Captain Culshaw, who was still looking at the letter. “We’ll set up camp in here for the night, and see if he returns. If not, we may need to search for him.” she said, still looking at the letter, tears forming in her eyes. “But what if he’s dead?” Oakley asked, not realizing the sadness in Culshaw’s face. She stayed silent.

As the darkness approached, Oakley saw something, darting between the trees. He sat up, and stared, waiting. The wind picked up and blew open the door slightly. He walked up to the door and shut it, where he saw a silhouette outside. He thought he must have been dreaming, until he heard a twig snap. A footstep.  A door creaked.

Equality

On the island of equality,                                                  

I saw kings and queens,

Caring and cherishing everyone,

Like sons and daughters.

On the island of nature,

I heard the indignant squawk,

Of a rowdy robin bathing in a tree,

Full of sweet, scarlet fruit.

On the island of hearts,

I witnessed a fragmented soul,

Crying tears of blood,

Trickling slowly on to the ground.

On the island of books,

I heard the overwhelming sounds,

Of words trying to be heard,

over all the mutters living inside my head.

On the island of the living,

I saw regular people shopping,

Dancing, singing, playing,

But they weren’t like me; they were alive.

Equality

On the island of equality,                                                  

I saw kings and queens,

Caring and cherishing everyone,

Like sons and daughters.

On the island of nature,

I heard the indignant squawk,

Of a rowdy robin bathing in a tree,

Full of sweet, scarlet fruit.

On the island of hearts,

I witnessed a fragmented soul,

Crying tears of blood,

Trickling slowly on to the ground.

On the island of books,

I heard the overwhelming sounds,

Of words trying to be heard,

over all the mutters living inside my head.

On the island of the living,

I saw regular people shopping,

Dancing, singing, playing,

But they weren’t like me; they were alive.

Equality

On the island of equality,

I saw kings and queens,

Caring and cherishing everyone,

Like sons and daughters.

On the island of nature,

I heard the indignant squawk,

Of a rowdy robin bathing in a tree,

Full of sweet, scarlet fruit.

On the island of hearts,

I witnessed a fragmented soul,

Crying tears of blood,

Trickling slowly on to the ground.

On the island of books,

I heard the overwhelming sounds,

Of words trying to be heard,

over all the mutters living inside my head.

On the island of the living,

I saw regular people shopping,

Dancing, singing, playing,

But they weren’t like me; they were alive.

Equality

On the island of equality,

I saw kings and queens,

Caring and cherishing everyone,

Like sons and daughters.

On the island of nature,

I heard the indignant squawk,

Of a rowdy robin bathing in a tree,

Full of sweet, scarlet fruit.

On the island of hearts,

I witnessed a fragmented soul,

Crying tears of blood,

Trickling slowly on to the ground.

On the island of books,

I heard the overwhelming sounds,

Of words trying to be heard,

over all the mutters living inside my head.

On the island of the living,

I saw regular people shopping,

Dancing, singing, playing,

But they weren’t like me; they were alive.

Chapter 1

It was a dreary, bleak October morning in Bristol. The sky was still dark, and the moon was shrouded behind the clouds. The air felt brisk and bitter. As Lyla Cavall breathed out, cold steam emerged and joined the fog around her.

Lyla ambled towards the checkpoint, ignoring the incessant feeling of nerves swirling in her abdomen. She pulled her hood further over her head, and kept her head down. Rain began to trickle down from the sky, and the wind whistled in her ear.

As she approached the border, she could see the guard barking out orders at other foreigners. She pulled her hood down, letting her long blonde hair flow down her shoulders, so that she could hear properly. Lyla began to feel vaguely ill when the guard called her up next.

“You! Come!” Lyla obediently walked towards the guard and handed him her papers. She felt worried that she would be told to go home.                                              “And why do you need to cross the border today?” the guard asked, still reading her paper.                                                                                                                       “I’m taking a parcel to one of my parent’s customers, in Fawn Avenue” she replied. The gave her a side eye, and pushed her through.

A few seconds later, Lyla was in the busy city of Bristol, surrounded by perfectly normal people. To her, this wasn’t normal at all.  She thought about asking someone how to get to Fawn Avenue, but suddenly remembered what her father had told her, “Keep your head  down and if anyone asks about your last name, tell them you were born in Bristol and have always lived here.” She took her father’s advice and carried on her way. Lyla wished that she wasn’t a foreigner and just a normal 12 year-old girl, playing in the playground and rushing around running on the streets.

There were buildings that were so high, Lyla had forgotten her father’s words and took her hood off, looking straight up at the brick building. She began to play out her life in her head, if she wasn’t glued to the ghetto. She would come out of one of the fine Bristol houses that everyone owned, brightly lit and full of colour with her mother and father, making delicious meals, and not having to worry about rent and money. In a brief description, it was breath-taking.

She suddenly felt a wave of anger flow in her veins. Why were foreigners treated differently? Why couldn’t they all be the same?                                        “I bet in my own country, wherever it is, these people would be counted as foreigners and I’d be the one living in fancy houses,” she mumbled to herself, irritably.

As Lyla was running away with her thoughts, she tripped over a camouflaged rock and fell flat on her front. A man emerged from an alleyway, and grabbed her by the shoulder, dragging her into a dark doorway, something glinting in his hand. It was a blade.

Lyla was pulled into a dark building with one window, barely letting light in. She couldn’t see what was happening anymore.

“What have you got there then?” asked a sly voice, a voice that made Lyla’s heart skip a beat. She refused to tell, but that just made him ask more.

“I asked you a question…fine, but you asked for this,” he replied. The rain’s relentless tattoo splashed against the window, and the kidnapper tensed up, holding the blade high into the air. But as it came slicing through the darkness, she ran.

She didn’t know where she was running to, as long as she could get away. Panting heavily, Lyla didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. She just kept running. Until she came to a dead end. She could hear the kidnapper’s gruff voice approaching. She crouched behind a box, hoping she wouldn’t be found.

Chapter 1

It was a dreary, bleak October morning in Bristol. The sky was still dark, and the moon was shrouded behind the clouds. The air felt brisk and bitter. As Lyla Cavall breathed out, cold steam emerged and joined the fog around her.

Lyla ambled towards the checkpoint, ignoring the incessant feeling of nerves swirling in her abdomen. She pulled her hood further over her head, and kept her head down. Rain began to trickle down from the sky, and the wind whistled in her ear.

As she approached the border, she could see the guard barking out orders at other foreigners. She pulled her hood down, letting her long blonde hair flow down her shoulders, so that she could hear properly. Lyla began to feel vaguely ill when the guard called her up next.

“You! Come!” Lyla obediently walked towards the guard and handed him her papers. She felt worried that she would be told to go home.                                              “And why do you need to cross the border today?” the guard asked, still reading her paper.                                                                                                                       “I’m taking a parcel to one of my parent’s customers, in Fawn Avenue” she replied. The gave her a side eye, and pushed her through.

A few seconds later, Lyla was in the busy city of Bristol, surrounded by perfectly normal people. To her, this wasn’t normal at all.  She thought about asking someone how to get to Fawn Avenue, but suddenly remembered what her father had told her, “Keep your head  down and if anyone asks about your last name, tell them you were born in Bristol and have always lived here.” She took her father’s advice and carried on her way. Lyla wished that she wasn’t a foreigner and just a normal 12 year-old girl, playing in the playground and rushing around running on the streets.

There were buildings that were so high, Lyla had forgotten her father’s words and took her hood off, looking straight up at the brick building. She began to play out her life in her head, if she wasn’t glued to the ghetto. She would come out of one of the fine Bristol houses that everyone owned, brightly lit and full of colour with her mother and father, making delicious meals, and not having to worry about rent and money. In a brief description, it was breath-taking.

She suddenly felt a wave of anger flow in her veins. Why were foreigners treated differently? Why couldn’t they all be the same?                                        “I bet in my own country, wherever it is, these people would be counted as foreigners and I’d be the one living in fancy houses,” she mumbled to herself, irritably.

As Lyla was running away with her thoughts, she tripped over a camouflaged rock and fell flat on her front. A man emerged from an alleyway, and grabbed her by the shoulder, dragging her into a dark doorway, something glinting in his hand. It was a blade.

Lyla was pulled into a dark building with one window, barely letting light in. She couldn’t see what was happening anymore.

“What have you got there then?” asked a sly voice, a voice that made Lyla’s heart skip a beat. She refused to tell, but that just made him ask more.

“I asked you a question…fine, but you asked for this,” he replied. The rain’s relentless tattoo splashed against the window, and the kidnapper tensed up, holding the blade high into the air. But as it came slicing through the darkness, she ran.

She didn’t know where she was running to, as long as she could get away. Panting heavily, Lyla didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. She just kept running. Until she came to a dead end. She could hear the kidnapper’s gruff voice approaching. She crouched behind a box, hoping she wouldn’t be found.

Chapter 1

It was a dreary, bleak October morning in Bristol. The sky was still dark, and the moon was shrouded behind the clouds. The air felt brisk and bitter. As Lyla Cavall breathed out, cold steam emerged and joined the fog around her.

Lyla ambled towards the checkpoint, ignoring the incessant feeling of nerves swirling in her abdomen. She pulled her hood further over her head, and kept her head down. Rain began to trickle down from the sky, and the wind whistled in her ear.

As she approached the border, she could see the guard barking out orders at other foreigners. She pulled her hood down, letting her long blonde hair flow down her shoulders, so that she could hear properly. Lyla began to feel vaguely ill when the guard called her up next.

“You! Come!” Lyla obediently walked towards the guard and handed him her papers. She felt worried that she would be told to go home.                                              “And why do you need to cross the border today?” the guard asked, still reading her paper.                                                                                                                       “I’m taking a parcel to one of my parent’s customers, in Fawn Avenue” she replied. The gave her a side eye, and pushed her through.

A few seconds later, Lyla was in the busy city of Bristol, surrounded by perfectly normal people. To her, this wasn’t normal at all.  She thought about asking someone how to get to Fawn Avenue, but suddenly remembered what her father had told her, “Keep your head  down and if anyone asks about your last name, tell them you were born in Bristol and have always lived here.” She took her father’s advice and carried on her way. Lyla wished that she wasn’t a foreigner and just a normal 12 year-old girl, playing in the playground and rushing around running on the streets.

There were buildings that were so high, Lyla had forgotten her father’s words and took her hood off, looking straight up at the brick building. She began to play out her life in her head, if she wasn’t glued to the ghetto. She would come out of one of the fine Bristol houses that everyone owned, brightly lit and full of colour with her mother and father, making delicious meals, and not having to worry about rent and money. In a brief description, it was breath-taking.

She suddenly felt a wave of anger flow in her veins. Why were foreigners treated differently? Why couldn’t they all be the same?                                        “I bet in my own country, wherever it is, these people would be counted as foreigners and I’d be the one living in fancy houses,” she mumbled to herself, irritably.

As Lyla was running away with her thoughts, she tripped over a camouflaged rock and fell flat on her front. A man emerged from an alleyway, and grabbed her by the shoulder, dragging her into a dark doorway, something glinting in his hand. It was a blade.

Lyla was pulled into a dark building with one window, barely letting light in. She couldn’t see what was happening anymore.

“What have you got there then?” asked a sly voice, a voice that made Lyla’s heart skip a beat. She refused to tell, but that just made him ask more.

“I asked you a question…fine, but you asked for this,” he replied. The rain’s relentless tattoo splashed against the window, and the kidnapper tensed up, holding the blade high into the air. But as it came slicing through the darkness, she ran.

She didn’t know where she was running to, as long as she could get away. Panting heavily, Lyla didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. She just kept running. Until she came to a dead end. She could hear the kidnapper’s gruff voice approaching. She crouched behind a box, hoping she wouldn’t be found.

Chapter 1

It was a dreary, bleak October morning in Bristol. The sky was still dark, and the moon was shrouded behind the clouds. The air felt brisk and bitter. As Lyla Cavall breathed out, cold steam emerged and joined the fog around her.

Lyla ambled towards the checkpoint, ignoring the incessant feeling of nerves swirling in her abdomen. She pulled her hood further over her head, and kept her head down. Rain began to trickle down from the sky, and the wind whistled in her ear.

As she approached the border, she could see the guard barking out orders at other foreigners. She pulled her hood down, letting her long blonde hair flow down her shoulders, so that she could hear properly. Lyla began to feel vaguely ill when the guard called her up next.

“You! Come!” Lyla obediently walked towards the guard and handed him her papers. She felt worried that she would be told to go home.                                              “And why do you need to cross the border today?” the guard asked, still reading her paper.                                                                                                                       “I’m taking a parcel to one of my parent’s customers, in Fawn Avenue” she replied. The gave her a side eye, and pushed her through.

A few seconds later, Lyla was in the busy city of Bristol, surrounded by perfectly normal people. To her, this wasn’t normal at all.  She thought about asking someone how to get to Fawn Avenue, but suddenly remembered what her father had told her, “Keep your head  down and if anyone asks about your last name, tell them you were born in Bristol and have always lived here.” She took her father’s advice and carried on her way. Lyla wished that she wasn’t a foreigner and just a normal 12 year-old girl, playing in the playground and rushing around running on the streets.

There were buildings that were so high, Lyla had forgotten her father’s words and took her hood off, looking straight up at the brick building. She began to play out her life in her head, if she wasn’t glued to the ghetto. She would come out of one of the fine Bristol houses that everyone owned, brightly lit and full of colour with her mother and father, making delicious meals, and not having to worry about rent and money. In a brief description, it was breath-taking.

She suddenly felt a wave of anger flow in her veins. Why were foreigners treated differently? Why couldn’t they all be the same?                                        “I bet in my own country, wherever it is, these people would be counted as foreigners and I’d be the one living in fancy houses,” she mumbled to herself, irritably.

As Lyla was running away with her thoughts, she tripped over a camouflaged rock and fell flat on her front. A man emerged from an alleyway, and grabbed her by the shoulder, dragging her into a dark doorway, something glinting in his hand. It was a blade.

Lyla was pulled into a dark building with one window, barely letting light in. She couldn’t see what was happening anymore.

“What have you got there then?” asked a sly voice, a voice that made Lyla’s heart skip a beat. She refused to tell, but that just made him ask more.

“I asked you a question…fine, but you asked for this,” he replied. The rain’s relentless tattoo splashed against the window, and the kidnapper tensed up, holding the blade high into the air. But as it came slicing through the darkness, she ran.

She didn’t know where she was running to, as long as she could get away. Panting heavily, Lyla didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. She just kept running. Until she came to a dead end. She could hear the kidnapper’s gruff voice approaching. She crouched behind a box, hoping she wouldn’t be found.

Chapter 1

It was a dreary, bleak October morning in Bristol. The sky was still dark, and the moon was shrouded behind the clouds. The air felt brisk and bitter. As Lyla Cavall breathed out, cold steam emerged and joined the fog around her.

Lyla ambled towards the checkpoint, ignoring the incessant feeling of nerves swirling in her abdomen. She pulled her hood further over her head, and kept her head down. Rain began to trickle down from the sky, and the wind whistled in her ear.

As she approached the border, she could see the guard barking out orders at other foreigners. She pulled her hood down, letting her long blonde hair flow down her shoulders, so that she could hear properly. Lyla began to feel vaguely ill when the guard called her up next.

“You! Come!” Lyla obediently walked towards the guard and handed him her papers. She felt worried that she would be told to go home.                                              “And why do you need to cross the border today?” the guard asked, still reading her paper.                                                                                                                       “I’m taking a parcel to one of my parent’s customers, in Fawn Avenue” she replied. The gave her a side eye, and pushed her through.

A few seconds later, Lyla was in the busy city of Bristol, surrounded by perfectly normal people. To her, this wasn’t normal at all.  She thought about asking someone how to get to Fawn Avenue, but suddenly remembered what her father had told her, “Keep your head  down and if anyone asks about your last name, tell them you were born in Bristol and have always lived here.” She took her father’s advice and carried on her way. Lyla wished that she wasn’t a foreigner and just a normal 12 year-old girl, playing in the playground and rushing around running on the streets.

There were buildings that were so high, Lyla had forgotten her father’s words and took her hood off, looking straight up at the brick building. She began to play out her life in her head, if she wasn’t glued to the ghetto. She would come out of one of the fine Bristol houses that everyone owned, brightly lit and full of colour with her mother and father, making delicious meals, and not having to worry about rent and money. In a brief description, it was breath-taking.

She suddenly felt a wave of anger flow in her veins. Why were foreigners treated differently? Why couldn’t they all be the same?                                        “I bet in my own country, wherever it is, these people would be counted as foreigners and I’d be the one living in fancy houses,” she mumbled to herself, irritably.

As Lyla was running away with her thoughts, she tripped over a camouflaged rock and fell flat on her front. A man emerged from an alleyway, and grabbed her by the shoulder, dragging her into a dark doorway, something glinting in his hand. It was a blade.

Lyla was pulled into a dark building with one window, barely letting light in. She couldn’t see what was happening anymore.

“What have you got there then?” asked a sly voice, a voice that made Lyla’s heart skip a beat. She refused to tell, but that just made him ask more.

“I asked you a question…fine, but you asked for this,” he replied. The rain’s relentless tattoo splashed against the window, and the kidnapper tensed up, holding the blade high into the air. But as it came slicing through the darkness, she ran.

She didn’t know where she was running to, as long as she could get away. Panting heavily, Lyla didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. She just kept running. Until she came to a dead end. She could hear the kidnapper’s gruff voice approaching. She crouched behind a box, hoping she wouldn’t be found.

Chapter 1

It was a dreary, bleak October morning in Bristol. The sky was still dark, and the moon was shrouded behind the clouds. The air felt brisk and bitter. As Lyla Cavall breathed out, cold steam emerged and joined the fog around her.

Lyla ambled towards the checkpoint, ignoring the incessant feeling of nerves swirling in her abdomen. She pulled her hood further over her head, and kept her head down. Rain began to trickle down from the sky, and the wind whistled in her ear.

As she approached the border, she could see the guard barking out orders at other foreigners. She pulled her hood down, letting her long blonde hair flow down her shoulders, so that she could hear properly. Lyla began to feel vaguely ill when the guard called her up next.

“You! Come!” Lyla obediently walked towards the guard and handed him her papers. She felt worried that she would be told to go home.                                              “And why do you need to cross the border today?” the guard asked, still reading her paper.                                                                                                                       “I’m taking a parcel to one of my parent’s customers, in Fawn Avenue” she replied. The gave her a side eye, and pushed her through.

A few seconds later, Lyla was in the busy city of Bristol, surrounded by perfectly normal people. To her, this wasn’t normal at all.  She thought about asking someone how to get to Fawn Avenue, but suddenly remembered what her father had told her, “Keep your head  down and if anyone asks about your last name, tell them you were born in Bristol and have always lived here.” She took her father’s advice and carried on her way. Lyla wished that she wasn’t a foreigner and just a normal 12 year-old girl, playing in the playground and rushing around running on the streets.

There were buildings that were so high, Lyla had forgotten her father’s words and took her hood off, looking straight up at the brick building. She began to play out her life in her head, if she wasn’t glued to the ghetto. She would come out of one of the fine Bristol houses that everyone owned, brightly lit and full of colour with her mother and father, making delicious meals, and not having to worry about rent and money. In a brief description, it was breath-taking.

She suddenly felt a wave of anger flow in her veins. Why were foreigners treated differently? Why couldn’t they all be the same?                                        “I bet in my own country, wherever it is, these people would be counted as foreigners and I’d be the one living in fancy houses,” she mumbled to herself, irritably.

As Lyla was running away with her thoughts, she tripped over a camouflaged rock and fell flat on her front. A man emerged from an alleyway, and grabbed her by the shoulder, dragging her into a dark doorway, something glinting in his hand. It was a blade.

Lyla was pulled into a dark building with one window, barely letting light in. She couldn’t see what was happening anymore.

“What have you got there then?” asked a sly voice, a voice that made Lyla’s heart skip a beat. She refused to tell, but that just made him ask more.

“I asked you a question…fine, but you asked for this,” he replied. The rain’s relentless tattoo splashed against the window, and the kidnapper tensed up, holding the blade high into the air. But as it came slicing through the darkness, she ran.

She didn’t know where she was running to, as long as she could get away. Panting heavily, Lyla didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. She just kept running. Until she came to a dead end. She could hear the kidnapper’s gruff voice approaching. She crouched behind a box, hoping she wouldn’t be found.

Eagle, eagle,                                                                                are the stories of your beady eyes,                                          true, or just a lie?

Eagle, eagle,                                                                                 how can you soar so high over the horizon,                                    without having to rest?

Eagle, eagle,                                                                                      aren’t you worried about placing nest so high,                                that your cherished eggs will fall?

Eagle, eagle,                                                                                      with your talons so grippy,                                                                 you never have to worry about plummeting to the ground.

Eagle, eagle,                                                                                               how does it feel to be loaded with fame,                                          for being the most remarkable bird?

Horse

Galloping through fields and paddocks,
Munching on nutritious hay and grass,
Jumping over poles and fences,
Saddle-barer, Carrot-eater.

Hacking through forests,
Woodlands and by the Severn Sea,
Cantering freely in the sun,
Mud-roller, Tail-swisher.

Getting ready for a show,
Bay coat shimmering in the sunlight,
Plaited tail, plaited mane,
Fence-jumper, Arena-contestant.

Friendly conversations with friends,
Owner coming to pack up for the night,
Rug thrown on and new bed laid,
Deep-sleeper, Hard-worker.

The Field Mouse

Darting between greenery and poppies,
rising up hills and descending peaks,
through dim tunnels and volcanic rocks,
the field mouse dashes in different directions.

Ears curved like circles,
and eyes like the abyss,
claws clinging to rocks and trees,
scuttling everywhere through the meadow.

Tail swerving back and forth,
not blinking and fixing its gaze.
Finding rivers to take a drink,
smallest creature doesn’t have time to sleep.

Living on a healthy diet,
of grains and insects,
caterpillars better hide,
the mouse is entering the darkness tonight.

Tiny heart beating fast,
The mouse doesn’t dare glance behind him,
The snake slithering stealthily after him,
Crawling into a nearby tunnel,
Another death closely avoided.

Finally settling down to sleep,
the mouse relives his day,
from darting between greenery and poppies,
rising up hills and descending peaks,
through dim tunnels and volcanic rocks,
the field mouse dashes in different directions.