To Myself, On My New Take On An Old Blazing-World

Since days of Yore past, and found in most Arts

Is Imitation, so simply it starts.

I Admit to the Crime I did Commit

Hers is a “World of Nothing, but pure Wit.”

From tongues of Philosophers never made,

Still to-day a Soul in doubt shall be Swayed.

Who am I, to Mimic such stunning Prose,

Have I the right to Reinvent a Rose?

O why should I dread my own creation

When one can only show admiration.

With her work unmatched, who could gain such Ire

When Imitation can bring lovely Fire?

CHRISTOPHER HUMPHREY.​

A World Colored in Blue, a Land Named Illyrica

In the distant future, Earth now mainly barren and civilization skyward, a seventh son of a seventh son did stand in the midst of a crowded port, in search of a craft for which to stow away on. He had travel’d through the floating isles in search of self, finding companionship in a solitary, ash-colored fire-arm. Nearly escaping the man’s sight, a band of barbarous marauders pass’d, going in the direction of a rather sizable vessel. The ship had long been in use, rust now coating the majority of its metallic hull. On its stern were two enormous fans, powered by complicated machinery and wiring, that slowly and steadily began to rotate, leading the ship to suddenly levitate a number of feet off the ground. Shortly before the ship’s departure, the lone traveler mount’d the ship, hanging on its edge until finding an unmann’d part of the deck and hid himself amongst a collection of precariously stacked crates. Throughout the night, silence hung in the air excluding the boisterous yells and laughter of the impish pirates. Whilst they did enjoy card games in the interior, a tempest was brewing in the distance, dark clouds gather’d round as powerful winds tore the ship asunder, plucking each and every last freebooter from their means of travel and hurling them far below into a maelstrom amongst the wild blue waters that comprise much of the Earth. Though the pirates did drown in the dismal depths of the sea, the unaccounted passenger did not perish in the terrible wreck, instead finding himself in the world of the living, yet simultaneously in a world unbeknownst to him, a realm where land and sea are connected as one. These strange shores that the man had come unto were not terribly large, spanning a few miles either way and steadily sloping upwards. Growing in the ground all about were palm trees that did sway freely in the cooling wind. How was it that the man had happened upon this seemingly impossible sight, and that he had fallen without great injury? Yet even stranger were the two peculiar creatures slowly approaching the man from beyond the shade of the small forest.

            Just exactly what these beasts were was extreamly unclear, be they man or fish? They walk on two legs, just as man does, yet they are scaled like fish and smell as such. The man, who in a state of great terror, had scarcely aim’d his fire-arm before letting loose a bullet, creating a terribly loud bang, leaving behind a thick cloud of sand that settled in a moment or two. Just as the man had been, the fish-men were equally frightened, stopp’d in their tracks, staring at the man with their crystalline eyes. Despite their horrific first encounter, the mermaid-esque people were quite gracious in their actions, motioning their webb’d hands for the man to follow, which after some internal hesitation he did manage to do. The road that carved its way through the depths of the forest were dimly lit and lined with all manner of strange fruit and flower, though the path twisted and contorted in a very disorienting fashion. Despite the sickening route, the speech of the two natives, even if incomprehensible, was soothing to the ear, as alluring as the melodious song of the Siren, making the journey just the slightest bit less unpleasant. After several minutes of musical speech and fantastic flora, the forest cleared and the opposite side of isle was now clearly in view, perfectly lit by the mid-day sun, and at the far end lay a rather small castle composed almost entirely of a dark-colored, rocky material. Though its outer appearance had been deceptive, for jewels and magnificent shining rocks were embedded in the walls of the circular throne room and strewn about the mirror-like floor, all round the throne on which an elderly man, whose appearance was much like a druid’s, sat as he greet’d their weapon-wielding guest. The old man present’d himself as duke and sorcerer of Illyrica. Using his wooden staff as support, the duke approach’d his visitor and lead him into an adjacent room in which there were more victuals to be had than in one lifetime. Many of the food was foreign to the man, some being gelatinous, some bearing bright colors, and even some that were beasts never seen in the man’s home country of the sky isles. When the man had finally had his fill of a hearty meal, the duke of Illyrica, along with his two fish-men servants, brought the man outside to the rear of the castle where a path seemingly stopped at the shore-line, but in fact continued on deeper into the sea. Waving his hand, the duke motion’d for the two fish-men to hand a device to the man, the duke explain’d that this was to be insert’d into the man’s nostrils, allowing fresh air to enter the lungs despite underwater conditions. And now the party of the man, the duke, and two fish-men took their first steps into the sea into the world colored in blue.