Awwwww.
Writing is haste is not a good thing to do. I also felt like loosing inspiration a bit, so while I like some parts, others does not seem quite good. Oh, and being a non-native english speaker, etc, etc, so may contain mistakes.
Anyway, it was fun to write this
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The Tale of Curs'd Gold***
Those were times, that pass'd quite long ago,
This is a story quite forgotten long before.
The people's memory is twist'd by time without mercy,
Distinct the true from false they cannot anymore.
***
There was a man, who, as ones say, was brave,
Or, as the others mention, was a fool.
Named he was Marcus. Without knowing so
Condemn'd by Destiny to bear fate most grave.
He wasn't rich, yet skilled in many pursuits,
That aren't much acknowledged by the law.
Above all else a haunting dream he cherished
That made his life not worth a single straw.
One day he had been told by drunken former skipper
Of island faraway, and secret cave that holds
The treasure of the greatest king, dead long ago.
He sworn he had been passing by on his trustworthy clipper.
And so much was Marcus's lust for treasure,
He did not want to live, each day became travail.
So once he sold right all of his possessions,
Did buy a ship, hir'd crew and hastly set the sail.
Three times they crossed the sea and sought
For isle of wonder; and lastly saw the shore;
There gray-beard'd hermit stood on guard,
Who, as a warning, raised his sword.
Two blades did clash, two men did bravely fight,
Yet soon did Marcus put the oldman to his death.
And just before he shuffled off this mortal coil
The hermit croaked with his remaining breath:
"The gold is curs'd! Beware, fool, beware!"
But Marcus laughed at him and walked
Into the luring op'ness of the cave,
Of horror he awakens unaware.
Descended he, and with his every step
His heart beat stronger. Then - he gasp'd and reel'd:
Beyond the final turn the flickering torchlight
The treasure of his cherish'd dreams revealed.
It took a week to board everything, at best,
But when they set the sails again they had
The bags of gold that number'd fourty four,
And large precious-gems-full chest.
To home town Marcus did return as hero.
He built himself a mansion at the river's brim,
Surrounded himself by flattering admirers,
Who promptly satisfied his each and every whim.
Yet, although Marcus reached his paramount goal,
Fullfilled his boldest dreams, victorious and happy,
He still could not forget the dying hermit's words.
They'd left a nagging scar somewhere in his soul.
One year had passed. That was a windy night,
And Marcus couldn't sleep, his thoughts did halt.
He heard a distant noise. Inquietude did make him
To rise from bed and walk to mansion's vault.
He open'd heavy door, - it moved with low rasp,
And peer'd inside. His hair stood on end.
The treasury was swarmed by morbid shadows.
They quickly turned, alarmed by Marcus's gasp.
The man could not believe in what he sees.
The bags of gold were moving like the living creatures.
Four ugly arms were scaled by yellow met'l
And did protrude from linen tissue breaches.
They lacked the eyes, yet their senses would
Detect the man, so they did slowly move,
Displaying sharpest teeth in their mouths,
To where in confusion Marcus stood.
In horror, Marcus ran. And, following his steps,
The living bags of gold rushed forward, their claws
Were leaving scratches deep all over the place,
And air trembled with their loud roars.
Few times he was too close to the certain death,
The monsters split, him trying to surround.
They howled, and barked, and scraped the floor,
And Marcus almost faint'd from their putrid breath.
He left the house and almost made escape,
When from the upper balcony, with utmost zest
Like hunting tiger on its prey did leap
The large precious-gems-full chest.
The pile of bags had fastly hid beneath
The writhing body of the man, and gnaw'd
On flesh, and Marcus cried in pain,
Tormented by the golden claws and teeth.
***
Those were times, that pass'd quite long ago,
Yet people say, and that is rightly so:
The townsfolk had never heard a yell such grim
Like poor dying Marcus's horrid dying scream.
***
