Odd Line Lyrical Writings

BANG!

The Room shook. Wizardry was such a hard magic, at least that is what Harold thought. He had been practicing for five years now and he couldn’t quite get the knack. All this spells paled in comparison to his companion. But then again his companion was Onyx the Black Cat.

“You should stop Trying,” Onyx Purred as he rubbed his soft midnight black fur along Harold’s leg as he passed beside him, “You’ll never match that of a cat, any cat, and definitely not me.”

Harold had once again turned his breakfast into a pile of mush, not that it wasn’t already of pile of mush to begin with; potatoes and a sliver of thin green beans. But now it sat in front of him an awkward orange, and very likely poisonous. Onyx jumped up on to the table and inspected the disaster.

“Not something I would eat,” he said flicking his tail at the slowly oozing orange goo, “Not that I would eat magic anyway”. From his tail a short puff of magic essence transferred from its tip to the table and the post-food spellcasted material, transforming it into an orange vapour.

Harold coughed, a slightly noxious orange vapour.

“I have no need for food!” exclaimed Harold, somewhat weakly, “No Wizard does.” Yet as he said it his stomach started to grumble. Harold had destroyed his last eight meals with botched spells, and his body was putting up quite an objection.

Onyx looked eerily, his cat ears pricked up high. Such sounds could not go unnoticed to a cat, or any large eared creature such as dogs or jackaloupezs.

“Such Distastful Creatures” murmured Onyx as his mind finished the thought. 

Harold wasn’t listening, but rather looking trance-like.

Onyx just shook his head,

“Not another One…”

 Once a long time ago a man was saved from flames

Rescued from being too arrogant

A foolish bet from a proud man

For all the town he was to blame

Careful he walks now, always close to a hydrant

That metal water spout can

Do Not Burden the Water Master

Do Not Bear him a Child!

His Realm is Not to Play In

Such Treasures would Surely Drown!

Hand him Not Your Silver or Gold

Hand him Not Wishes of Good Fortune!

For He would Sink into his Depth

Such things Weighting to Much on his Soul!

What Gift to Give the Water Master?

But a Boat for him to Row!