Extract and Preview from Shridian Ferecrie Rerkov by ShridianFerecrieRerkov

Shridian Ferecrie Rerkov

Chapter 1

"Who's there?!" I shouted with my dependency on an answer growing, increasing and by careful contrast this was, that is, my own antics were, sending my heart racing, without an answer, the answer that I dreaded, but also the answer that I needed, so much.

The falcon watch that Shridian had brought me two years ago, before my current night of death, I felt possessed, thus by twelve minutes past midnight and thus being unbalanced by the spirits, the form fell from Fercrie's follen furniture both hitting my foot and knocking my heart into my throat.

Now, with, I, me, you, us, we are in a fallen sleep, for reader, you must see that in my clearing sight I am always falling between two worlds, upon which I am ensuing to differentiate between fact and fantasy. In my fantasy world I am Rerkov, leader of the defenders of Falcon Ridge, guarding, guarding... guarding against something, no-someone, who thus escapes my eye, because to them , to everyone, to you especially, there is no way in your imagination you would believe me.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Mrs Shridian was shrewd strict and yet kind; she regarded those who didn't follow a daily routine - buffoons in the eyes of God and of the late Mr Shridian. Her heart however was in the right place, but simply it was her head's decision as to whether or not follow her heart that got her recognised by few.

By thy iron scimitar,

and the gentle wisp,

doth blowth through the curtain.

Long day filled the isle with sin

Yet as the man lit cradle,

fell into bliss,

Not felt left to mention.

Thy furry coat match'th the sounded day,

yet how fall the winter months of may,

Come craving contentment,

Leave foulest spirit; you have no place left to mention...

Though the gentle humming of a distant sea

Grave sailors stories come from, brew within,

Leave the man, a tree in a forest,

for he have not a place to hide.

Time fill the last blow through the lights sky,

And hand high chimes do shake hearts once more

and although memories of the dozen grow

they must leave the town, one winter's day.

And thus the oracle of my mind had spoken, silencing my heart and bursting the fiction bubble. I drowned slowly in reality.

There standing at the hospital bedside was Sam Shridian - a vision of mature beauty. Almost seventeen and petit, she had small hands, short straightened ginger hair and a short denim skirt. She accompanied this with her usual blue bow in her hair, some black rather stretched tights and black pumps; her blue eyes a vision of beauty, her hips wide and body slender. Pale skin and many freckles were also present, a soft white cotton scarf, a mature grey frock with cuffs pulled to her elbows and a soft, elongated black coat. this image of beauty did thus distract me from the matter in hand, which thus meet in her gorgeous appearance.

Sam Shridian was a niece of the late Mr Shridian and although Mrs Shridian was infatuated with support and dazzled with her money luck; Sam Shridian lived with her foster parents, Mr A and Mrs B- they were sociable people of sorts and kept a loose leash around Sam's ankle from which she frequently escaped. I however after this mere moment lay still, my eyes transfixed on the eyes of Sam. Sure enough her eyes found mine to be lively and thus stared back with joyous affection.

"Ah, you are a picture of health"

"And you too"

"How many times is it now?" Sam Enquired.

"Five"

"Five!... only five, not that I mean any offense, but I thought, it was a life-threatening cond-"

"No" I explained, "I was referring to the watch, you on the other hand shall have your answer..., counting today I believe that this is the two-hundredth and thirty third time, that the doctors know of since I was born"

I was sixteen going on seventeen going on seventeen - interested in theatre and underpowered by experience. Whereas

"...A seventeen year old boy like yourself" magnetised Sam, "should count himself far more lucky than you do, in your situation - you should be thankful, after what you put your body through!"

"Okay, ok", I began to murmur...

Sam faded from my sight. The last thing I heard from her was faint and barely audible to my own ear.

"I leave you, for now, and shall come back when you're feeling better"

I switched to my fantasy world. Rerkov was riding shotgun with MC Mallet. I was fine.

End of Chapter 1

Chapter 2

June was a marvellous month, Sam visited regularly and as my condition slowly improved her visits became more frequent. I felt my condition to be nominal and insignificant to her visits - once I knew she was there I was reported to have stayed conscious much longer than such a previous time.

"Now that all has gone before the gentle dawn,

That rise below and set be'fourth

Live down and follow through

With tires of a weeping slumber"

I would say this to her at the end of each of our wondrous meetings.

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