Author Topic: Snared in my House (RP)  (Read 1049 times)

(RIP) Cristianus Von Hamaburg

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Snared in my House (RP)
« on: 17 January, 2015, 11:16:33 AM »
Another night ends.
The sun moved slowly across the horizon an there first shine tickles the birds, which have forgotten to fly to the south in this cold season.
I open my eyes and look to the wooden ceiling.
It's grey here inside, but I don't need a candle, the shine, which crawl through the  cracks in the wood of the door and the windows, is enough for me.
I am not tired, I have slept enough - this is all what I can do - sleep - the half day - only sleep.
I go the window, open the wing and put my head out and listen.
No bird is singing - its to cold and the noises from my herbary are less than yesterday.
My Garden, where I am normally work every day, where I am was learning to find the right mixes of herb, to health the citizen.
And where I am talk to Teos and I also Talk to my bees!
They don't dissent my word's, they listen me - all the hours, when I am there in the garden.
But now - I am trapped in my own house and couldn't go to the garden.
I am trapped - I don't know why - nobody is interested it, no higher court give me his voice in my dreams, why I am sitting here and can't do nothing.
Perhaps - I have bumped the wrong person on the market or somebody have problems with my faith -
who knows it?       I not!
But which crime have my beens done? This poor small animals, which share the result of her hard work with us? They give us honey, they give us love - the only thing, they want from us, is something
to eat. Some flowers a day , thats all.
But since days, I can't feed them - I am snared here - my kitchen feeds me, but I could feed my bees!
The world is unfair. Al the way, the poorest, the derelicts musst pay for the games from the Kings.

The noises from my herbary, the buzz from the bees, they made during there flight around, if they looking for some last blossoms, perhaps forgotten from the coldness to kill - but they dind't found some.
No grown by own power and no one I put every day to the beehive.
So they fly and fly - and at least they die.
Tears rolling down my cheeks about that cruelty. They fall down to the loamy soil and the puddle goes larger. I look to the right - there is the gueard, who always say "NO", If I want to go out to feed my bees.
They died every day - and at least, there is nothing.  - No queen will survive - this will be the end.