This is the song of the mud,
The pale-yellow glistening mud that covers the hills like satin;
The grey gleaming silvery mud that is spread like enamel over the valleys;
The frothing, squirting, spurting, liquid mud that gurgles along the road beds;
The thick elastic mud that is kneaded and pounded and squeezed under the hoofs of the horses;
The invincible, inexhaustible mud of the war zone.
An excerpt from the poem “The Song of the Mud” by Mary Borden
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“Well, my friends, I’m afraid the time has come, it’s time for me to say goodbye to everyone.”
“I’ve had a lot of fun here, more fun than I can recall having in such a long time, and I hope that I’ve made a lot of friends.”
“In the relatively short time that I’ve been here I have met many people whose talents and treasures have touched my very soul, and at the very least, helped to make me a better person.”
“For that I will always fondly remember you all, and smile when I think back on our time together.”
“However, recently things have changed; many of you seem distant and disconnected. There is a subtle and yet unmistakable current of dissatisfaction and unhappiness and I simply cannot abide it any longer.”
“It is one thing to not be greeted by a friendly voice when entering, but it is quite another thing to be completely ignored when asking a question or making a friendly statement, and I have seen far too much of that going on.”
“Not to mention, my romantic advances have been spurned multiple times by a lovely companion and not one of you came to me with regrets or concerns for my well-being. No kind comments or hugs to help me through those painful moments.”
“Somehow I expected more after the time we’ve spent together.”
“Anyway, I really don’t think I should have ever been here in the first place, I just don’t really belong here, you know? I think some of you could sense that. I’m really just an outsider, a loner, I feel like I’ve always been on the outside looking in, and that is hard to live with.”
“Well, enough of that, I don’t want to make anyone feel bad, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t do this,” his eyes start to well up with tears, “but as you can see I’ve failed miserably,” tears begin to roll down his face.
He waves at everyone and then stumbles out the door, crying heavily.
Some of the patrons at the bar wave back, though most of them barely even slow down to hear his little speech. Many of them hadn’t even noticed that he was there in the first place and now could really care less that he is leaving.
After the tavern door closes, one of the men at the bar asks the man next to him, “Who was that?”
“I don’t really know,” replies the other man looking back toward the door, “but he has been buying my drinks for the past few hours, so he was a good friend, and he will be greatly missed.” A tear rolls down his face as he lifts his mug in a salute.
Outside in the rain, stumbling down the road, the ranger tries to pull himself together. It has been quite some time since he has allowed himself to get this drunk, and tomorrow he will likely regret it, but for now there is no tomorrow…..there is only his anger, his shame and his disappointment.
Thoughts race through his head, images of a lovely elf with honey blonde hair and garnet red eyes fill his mind.
“You fool! She doesn’t want you!” His spinning mind screams.
“I don’t believe that,” he whispers to himself.
His mind spirals out of control as images race through it with no recognizable pattern or sense, all jumbled and mashed together in the fog of the alcohol…. A giant tree looms in the distance and then disappears, flames dance and jump wildly and then vanish. Faces appear in the darkness staring at him, some laughing, some crying…….a thousand muttering voices fill the air around him speaking all at once, blood soaked bodies are everywhere…..
Temyen swings around and lunges forward in a drunken stumble, desperately trying to escape, but the images are everywhere…. there is no escape.
“No……please stop!” his tortured mind pleads.
In an instant they are gone, replaced by a deep and silent blackness…. his mind reels, and then slowly the image of a vicious battlefield emerges, the light of the full moon above casting ominous shadows on the bodies of the dead littering the field below. A giant tree burns in the distance, black smoke fills the darkening sky…. The flames grow until they fill the entire scene, the fire engulfs everything, then quickly fades into two garnet red eyes peering through the darkness, and blood…. Lots of blood.
Looking upwards he sobs, “Aellos help me.”
Almost as if in answer to his plea, lightning flashes across the sky and thunder roars, shaking the ground around him. The rain pours down in sheets, completely soaking the drunken ranger, swallowing his tears and masking his cries.
He is oblivious to it all.
Stumbling forward, he manages a few final steps and then falls to his knees in the mud of the street, lowering his face into his hands, “Someone help me…..please.”
No one hears his desperate cry for help……no one comes to comfort him in his drunken despair.
He is alone……as he has always been.
He falls face first into the mud and rolls onto his side. It is cold and dirty, and he is soaked to the bone.
…. but it is good in the mud.
…. no one expects anything from the man in the mud.
…. no one pays any attention to the man in the mud.
…. and the man in the mud knows, he is right where he should be.
Slowly the blackness of unconsciousness overtakes him and begins to release him from his current torment……he accepts its mercy and forgiveness…. he pleads for its pain relieving emptiness.
And the blackness welcomes him home, once again.
