This is an epic poem, like beowolf. It is based of Steven King's The Gunslinger
|And so the story goes that the Gunslinger Roland came to a cave.|
In this cave of fate and foreboding, destiny and destruction
Was what he had been searching for.
He entered, and the cave mouth seemed to swallow him
Like the gates to hell.
His voice was solemn and strained, dutiful and disheartened
When he shouted:
“I Roland of House Magnum, Son of Tristan Magnum,
Son of James Magnum, have come here to kill you
Out of duty and honor and obligation to my father.”
Out of the darkness came an angel of light and love, of ecstasy and enchantment.
Her voice was soft and tender. It melted the heart of all who heard it.
Her eyes where of the most vibrant green.
A man could stare forever into them and
Find happiness with in their pools of color.
Her skin was an irreproachable ivory, and satin soft.
She was beautiful.
When she spoke her voice was full of longing and fear.
“Roland, I know why you are here, and I forgive you.
I love you.
I am sorry for what I did. If it consoles you any,
I was forced to do it by my father.”
Roland’s voice sounded bleak and full of burden when he spoke:
“You killed my father. Our family honor demands
Blood for blood. It matters not why you killed him,
The rules are still the same.
After my father’s death, my uncles Smith and Wesson
Fought over the kingdom. They killed each other,
And your father assumed power. He has
Corrupted the court, and rules with and iron fist.
My family honor demands blood.”
The being of heaven and the man of obligation
Looked into each other’s eyes.
What she saw was regret and remorse, worry and woe.
What he saw was acceptance and affection, elegance and empathy.
They both began to cry.
As the Gunslinger drew his revolver he said:
“Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain.”
Pandemonium and pain, thunder and torment filled the cave
As he shot.
Roland knew what he done and regret filled him.
His life-flame had been killed by his own hands.
Beauty itself died that day.
He cursed his name and shoved the heavy-iron into his mouth.
The pain of his existence was too much to bare without her tender embrace.
During this moment, life and death
Balanced on the edge of a knife.
All he could think about was his hatred for himself
And how much he missed her.
He fell asleep with the thunder-maker
In his mouth.
There he lived bent and broken, hopeless and heartless.
He lived in the cave for three months, until, in a dream
His love came to him and spoke the secret of forgiveness.
He awoke, soul filled with angel-fire.
His ears rang with redemption,
His eyes shown with the light of hope.
He set out across the desolate desert of heat and hell.
The Gunslinger never drank or ate for he thirsted for forgiveness,
Hungered for his saving grace.
Roland walked for five days and five nights
Fighting the horrible and horrific, forgotten foes of Good who claimed
The waste as their home.
He was a determined man.
He got out of the desert and rested in a small town for three days.
Afterwards he set out for the tower of his lover’s father.
There are stories of his adventures to get to The Dark Tower
but those are tales to be told another time.
The Evil King, Malfor was a malicious man, a death-dealing king.
The people feared him and cried out for a savior.
Malfor’s gaze quaked the hearts of the greatest incubus incinerators,
And holy heroes.
When he spoke flames dimmed from fear.
They said when he smiled Satan shivered.
He was an evil lord.
When Roland reached The Dark Tower
His skin shone with an immaculate illumination so pure that
No evil retainer who dwelled there could approach him.
He strolled unimpeded to the throne room.
They say when the malignant monarch, the calamitous caliph
Gazed into the Gunslinger’s eyes, he felt fear for the first time.
Then The Crimson King began to speak, and the flames faded in fear
“You have come to take your throne back.
I have become fond of your seat, and of living,
You have marched here to your death.”
Roland’s voice was conviction and courage, might and magnificence when he spoke:
“You’re wrong, Malfor.
I have come here for redemption and reconciliation.
Redemption for the death of the women I loved,
And reconciliation for being fooled into thinking
She was my enemy when it was you,
The disheartened devil that shakes and shivers before
The Crimson King peered into the Gunslinger’s eyes one more time, and
His demon-flame began to shrink, and the lights grew slightly brighter.
His voice lost some confidence when he spoke these words:
“You know that if I fall in battle to you,
you still won’t leave alive.
My men shall tear you into fragments, and gnaw on your bones.
You will scream for death.”
Roland’s voice grew hot with devotion and drive, fire and fervor.
He then shouted at The Crimson King:
“Enough talk! Now we duel!
When this coin hits the ground we draw.”
The gold glinted and glittered as it flipped and fell in the air.
Time slowed to a turtle’s pace.
The two men gazed into the other’s soul.
Roland saw a chasm of chaos, a nightmarish nether world.
A lesser man would have been driven mad from this glance into Hell.
Malfor saw a sacrosanct spirit, full of venerable virtue.
Upon seeing this, The Crimson King felt the Reaper’s hand upon his breast.
The coin hit the ground with a cling.
Roland’s hands guided by God, smoothly sped towards death’s handle.
He deftly drew and acutely aimed,
With dexterity and devotion, he shot.
The last thing Malfor heard was thunder in his ears.
The doors to the throne room flew open,
And countless servants to the king, driven mad by his death,
Sped into the room, the taste of crimson in their mouths.
The Gunslinger turned to face the hellish hoard of crazed creatures.
He stood his ground like the man he was and fired five times
Before the bloodthirsty beasts overwhelmed him and dealt death to our Gunslinger.
They say before the killing blow was struck Roland smiled
For he heard the voice of his lover for the first time in what seemed like ages.