Pictured above: It is officially time for my favorite holiday (Halloween), so here is a nice picture of a road.
Hello there! I'm Sophie Cassarino. I love creative writing and mythology, and here on Septilina (which means "little seven" in Latin) I change the website a little every week (seven days): I update my deities database, think up a weekly question, and upload a weekly poem. Please enjoy!
Weekly Question: What dreams have negative consequences?
Weekly Poem: The Death of Jonathan MacGrau (a song)
Long ago in age old Possatown Jonathan MacGrau rode in one day On a mare with skin as black as pitch Jonathan MacGrau rode in one day They gathered round and called his name Savior save us they did say When with his Bible and his sword Jonathan MacGrau rode in one day He took not from them their wine Jonathan MacGrau had other taste He asked them for their sinners not Jonathan MacGrau had other taste With crucifix aimed at the sky He said “come down from throne on high You demon born, you’ve come to die” Jonathan MacGrau did say that day Possatown was demon ruled Jonathan MacGrau did surely know The monster on raven wings flew Jonathan MacGrau did surely know He lost a bet at Satan’s door Cursed to wander Earth forevermore And every week he came to eat Jonathan MacGrau had come that day Like an arrow across the sky The winged monster fell from high “I wish you no glory with fighting Me my poor lost soul” The demon lay on four snake legs Jonathan MacGrau could clearly see Wrapped in a shroud made for a king Jonathan MacGrau could clearly see A pointed hat upon his head Eyes like nightmares blazing red Wings storied as the bleeding sea Jonathan MacGrau could see that day “Care for a drink my wandrin’ friend?” Jonathan MacGrau would stand his ground “No words you have against my head?” Jonathan MacGrau would stand his ground “Nothing to offer in response? Only here for blood at any cost? Won’t try to save my soul at all?” Jonathan MacGrau said naught that day Like arrows across the skies The preacher and the demon fight “I wish you no glory with fighting Me my poor lost soul” At last there lay the demon dead Jonathan MacGrau was cold that day He pulled the horns out from its head Jonathan MacGrau was cold that day He stood for days before the cross Despite the cheers his heart was frost He wanders still forever lost Jonathan MacGrau is lost today