He grunted in pain as he exhaust’d his three wishes, courtesy of the mighty young greyhair’d socerer dwelling in the enchant’d forest of revolting spirit. He wish’d for a horse that could revolved the solar planet in a day, power to control the wind and rain to his likeness and a life as long as the hunters’ riffle.
Exploiting his helm to the greatest height, a conductor of the Earthly bus that drives many a future to his preffer’d destination, a block you wont pray to stumble over. He rush’d rain on the elders’ during the general meeting at the marketsquare, he shambled the village-head’s roof with a mystyreous wind, he rights all that are wrong and his wrongs were enact’d in the village law. Lucky-him became a small god and he was call’d ‘the special warlock’.
With everything not yet content’d, a well polish’d house present’d by the village dwellers who are afraid of his wrath, he has a pool fill’d with currency for he sold air to people around him as he was call’d the ‘Rainman’ while some preffer’d ‘Angel of Wind’. Verily, something was amiss amidst many a joy and that’s definately happiness, He has never been happy from daybreak to moonlight, all owing to various thought lingering his mind, wrongdeeds amidst evil sacrifices, full list of different souls being ritualised on different planes bit his conscience.
He became a victim of restlessness yet he wouldn’t die anytime soon. He grew older and older turning gradually into an evil gaffer.
Rustling ginger’d leaves all over the ground were majestically step’d on by ‘leo’; the flying horse the devil grant’d him’, as he rode his way to the socerer’s nunnery.
O! Great socerer, ”On this day i call on you, sorrow is the root word in my life sentence, take all thing and make me happy, for my heart shambles and living is like in shackles”. The socerer appear’d to him, still very young and elegant, his shinning, smilling and radianting face looks like that of a day old baby.
He waves his head in rejection to the opinion, ”Wisely you should wish, i warn’d’, but the veil of power has overshadow’d your thought, ‘Moreover, your wishes are three in a lifetime, ‘To be forewarn’d is to be forearm’d”. He went home with sorrow hovering around his right senses like smoke particles suspension in air.
On the way back home, he pull’d together a bulk of wind in the frontier of his path and at the back route like an entourage to his evil lead, he also drench’d heavy rain on himself like a partner or travel companion, for these are his only comrade that bail him out in time of distress.
Whenever he plan’d to die, death detest’d him, life to him is like a hell, a friendly hearth on earth…..
By: Psychedelic Muchos Calidad
Author’s Info: http://www.facebook.com/multiintrinsic?hc_location=stream