A long time ago, The Black Knight came to me in a dream, like so many things did. His horse looked shoddy, the Knight's splendour faded.

Ever since, he pays me visits sometimes. He talks of days long gone, but always like they happened yesterday. I always knew The Black Knight and I were related. I love the clouds too much.

He was the one that showed me the way to the coast, where I found strength and I know that this time he will show me another road. Where ever he takes me, The Black Knight knows my destination, even if I do not. So I feel safe. Protected.

Whenever he rides, the words flow out of me. Like waves.

Words often come to me broken, like I need to fix them. In a way, I am a repairman; I fix words.

Before, when I tried to find words, I stumbled. These days, I just let them come to me. And when they do, I never know where I will end up.

I do not care where the words take me, because I am not really here to begin with. I am a mere shell on the bottom of an ocean too vast for me to imagine. The waves roll over me and caress me, most times. They move me, pick me up and twirl me around, just to make me reflect darkness in yet another way.

Darkness is my friend. I only fear shadows because I fear the light that created them. Light, always heralded as a saviour, but I know it for what it is. The Illuminator, the Blinding. In darkness, you hear truth. In darkness, you can smell honesty.

In the light, I only smell fear. Illuminated pride. The voice of darkness speak to me.

I am not new
I am old
Old as the West
Here is The Black Knight
My Armour dented
Shaded with blood
My skin is worn by sand
My eyes deep with sorrow
My horse as old as I am
But beware
For my name is Truth
And when called
My steed rides
Through time, if need be
I’ll ride
To fight the wicked ways of the white knight

In fear of sounding ignorant, did you write this gooey?
Where is it from

paintsprayer said:

Wrote it just before going to sleep. It's the start of a re-write of an old story of mine. Sometimes you have a new insight.

Sorry if it look silly, it was as spontanteous as hell... Normally I chave off like 3/4 of a story, to keep the essence.

The story started with the words "the wicked ways of the white knight".

They are of course adversaries and always clash in stories. It is never clear who chases who. I think one time it's this way, the other time that way.

Currently I am re-writing the first of like three stories I have about The Black Knight and once you get in a certain mood, you just have to write what's in front of you, like I did last night.

Reminds me a little bit of Angela Carter

keep us posted