I do not believe that at any point in time I had mentioned the period of my most beautiful birth. Yes! Could you not imagine the stars glistening with delight. The trees swaying to the timeliest sounds of the wind like a beautiful orchestra while the sun and its precious heat beamed down on the lands of the living. Indeed giving life to all things blessed. And yes, the rivers. The rivers and ocean like a harp, with melodious sounds lapping against the sides of its domain, splashing the inhabitants of the earth and a beauty to behold came forth from his mother's womb. Yes indeed. It may not have been too difficult for you to imagine this to be I, my reader. A truly difficult conundrum if you, my reader was to think of any other being other then myself.
And yet, this would not surprise me in the least for some, as they lack the capability to wonder at such a work of art such as myself. Yes, upon my birth my father and mother leaped for great joy and those around smiled and desired to paint pictures of something so grand. As if a true work of non-fiction. It would not in any way surprise me if my first words were formed even as the fluid from my mother's womb were removed from her torso and I sang a most beautiful poem for all to hear. In the likes of a ditty such as this...
His features like Black Opal,
Came forth from the womb.
Beautiful to see,
The women would swoon.
Elegant and bold,
His strength not compared.
He looked upon lovers,
But with barely a care.
If he could,
He'd choose well.
But only himself.
The most gorgeous to exist.
He knew himself well.
Hmmmm...I might indeed require to re-write this little poem and place it upon my wall. I may even have my servants sing this little ode to me as I were to go about my day. Parleying with those beneath as I heard this little melody would be such a delight. Like eating fresh apple pie in the early hours of the morning. Of course, some would prefer that of snakes or some other unpleasant creature, but it is never for one such as I to take part in the gross and despicable practices of those who live so nearby. Enough of all that.
This little entry that I do so love should be only a piece written to me. A love letter if you will. One that explains greatness in just a few words. Please if need should arise take a break as I can understand the need to rest from something so grand. Like looking upon the sun and needing to shade one's eyes from the fervent, and furious glare that would even bedazzle a man who was born blind. It is not for one such as I to create such a fictitious tale, but again, if you were to look upon this young master it would not be much for you to agree to this very truth. That to look upon me and wonder is a thing accepted by all. It truly bothers me so that upon your own reflection you may never see anything quite like the one who holds this feathered ink and papyrus. Perhaps one day you may even behold a drawing or better yet a painting and also understand who it is to whom you now read his most excellent authoring.
Goodbye for now!
YOU ARE READING
How To Survive In A Dump: The Diary of Mr. Thaddeus
FantasyHis name is Mr. Thaddeus. A young man born into wealth and prestige writes of his experiences with those who now serve under him from his own unique perspective. One that he speaks on the greatness of his own estate and himself. That is until a ver...
