The Librarian's Revenge ©

The Librarian's Revenge ©

An Odyssey Into The Wonderful World Of Words

This community is dedicated to C.W. Hewett's epic masterpiece

He laid there in the sun baked sand,

Daniel R.Posted by Daniel R 21 Oct, 2009 03:33PM

I won this years poetry Competition with this very peom. I hope you get chills when you read this. As many before have, reading this poem.

He laid there in the sun baked sand,

A machine gun in his blood covered hand,

The solider that died in battle

Drove in to war like articulate cattle,

Now classed as an afghan hero,

His commanding officer a down right zero,

Sending a man into a zone of war.

His men dying is what he saw.

The worst man in history,

He laid there in the sun baked sand,

A machine gun in his blood covered hand,

The officer in safety,

His family is waiting for him to come.

His family is waiting for him at home.

The sad thing is he is dead.

Without his last rights said.

He laid there in the sun baked sand,

A machine gun in his blood covered hand,


Daniel R.Posted by Daniel R 25 Sep, 2009 09:57AM
The first laws of Prime Minister Count Vladimir Dracula.

  1. No garlic to be eaten.
  2. All Christian churches are to be demolished, and the crosses burnt, to make way for gothic nightclubs.
  3. The Beefeaters of the tower are now called the bloodsuckers.
  4. Regular blood donations.
  5. Guy Falks day is now Van Helsing day and instead of burning Guy Falks you burn Van Helsing.
  6. Britain is not a Country it’s now a COUNTry.
  7. We have pulled out of the E.U. and have made an alliance with Romania, called the Treaty of Transylvania.
  8. The Union Jack and now is called the Union Vlad.

Global Warming

Daniel R.Posted by Daniel R 24 Sep, 2009 03:58PM

She stood there in disbelief at the sight of the oncoming catastrophe ahead of her. The trees were ablaze, the ground was crumbling and the sky was a bright crimson. The sound was so loud she heard nothing. The sound was louder than Krakatoa his self.

The road ahead was littered with dead bodies in the metal car coffins. The last thought running thought running through their heads was… “DEATH IS CHEATING.”

The ancient screams of them still seemed to haunt the rotten air above. Many women, children, and men were still running for their lives jumping of the cracked concrete rivers. They had run for miles upon miles. Still they could not stop the hatred vermin of the human race.

She had to run it has life or death but still she stood their as if she a one of the burning trees rooted to the ground. The army of human scum was racing towards her. All the normal people had passed her and now it was just them and her.

They didn’t even stop and yet she stilled stood like the statue in the middle of the rotten world.

All this because of Global warming…


Daniel R.Posted by Daniel R 15 Jul, 2009 11:57AM
Chapter one Secrets

The night was bitter. Very bitter. So was the woman standing on the icy balcony. The freezing winds battered her cheeks. But the inclemency and the wind didn’t faze her. Not with her view.

The skyline of the city seemed to reach up into heaven. The stars danced in the mid-night gale, hiding the crime and debauchery in the underbelly of hellish city. With corrupt hags on every street corner. The smell of rotten fish and the sound of gunfire seemed to pervade the air, as if taunting the woman watching it all.

She whispered softly. The wind grew softly as well. Like it was reacting to her call. Now the wind seemed to caress her cheek like a lover’s palm.

With her many secrets spinning round the whirl-wind of her head, she turned. Keeping her back to the beautiful but immoral city.

She stepped forward. The click from her high-heels on the balcony destroyed the peaceful sound of the city behind her. She headed to a shadowy bedroom beyond the white net-curtains blowing in the breeze in front of her. As she past them she didn’t feel the gentle wind anymore.

She glided past her most recent secret lying on the floor in front of the bed, like it wasn’t there. She headed to the left in the direction of the en-suite.

She went past the 4 poster bed, as she entered the theatrical bathroom. With gold chandelier, marble floor, and gold taps in the shape of swans.

She walked past a big mirror when she noted her hands. She had to wash them but where. The shower was standing there looking like the perfect candidate.

She removed her silky red dress from her slender body and then hung it on the pine door behind her.

As she climbed in to the shower, she turned on the taps. She reached for the soap. The lather cascaded down her body and the red water danced down the plug hole.

She turned off the taps and left. She wrapped her gold glossy locks in the yellow towel hanging next to the sink.

She entered back in to the sombre bedroom and sat down at the dressing table. She looked behind her using the mirror. Saw a red stained knife lying on the floor.

She sobbed. She ran to her dressing-gown and slung it on. She galloped to the door and flung it open. Her tears subsided as she walked through the doorway. Swiftly walking through the door, she made out the time on the clock. The grandfather clock in the corner stated it was two to midnight. She wept on the sofa for a few minutes until... the knock on the door.

Any normal woman would have stayed there and ignored it, but she wanted everything to look normal. Not like her then. But make it look like nothing had happened. Hunky-Dory like some people might say. So she had to answer the knocked door.

Her wet cold feet slapped the shiny black marble floor, as she walked to yet another pine door.

Who could it be at this time? All the servants had gone to bed at least two hours ago.

She straightened herself, and opened the door. A white haired lady stood in the hall way. This woman had worked at the house, for the family, for twenty years. The old woman’s face, simple but concerned, nervously spoke.

“Is something wrong? I heard shouting, screaming.”

“No it’s fine.”

“But what’s that.”

She pointed to the door leading to the bedroom. A man’s leg was poking in to view. Like an unwanted sock poking out of the sock draw after it’s closed.

The young woman sighed knowing the fate of the elderly lady standing next to her. The woman was adding it all up, working it all out. This was signing her death warrant.

With eagle like precision she grabbed the maid round the neck and flung her on to the floor like an old rug. Her long fingers wrapped round an envelope knife beside her.

The only thing running through her mind was...

“Not again.”

Over and over again.

The maid was panting, expecting the inevitable blow somewhere on her body.

The old maid yelled as the young bastard above lifted the knife over her head. She then slung it in to the chest.

The blood flew out of the body and across the room. The familiar sight (to her) never got any easier for her to witness, but she had to do it. This scene is more suited to a horror movie set than a bedroom in a mansion.

She struggled and scrummed underneath the bitch pinning her down on the floor.

Suddenly she stopped and she was lifeless. She looked like she was sleeping. But she would never wake up.

The phone rang. She clambered up from the floor to answer it. She picked up the ear piece with her blood covered hand and lifted it to her ear.


“Yes. I did it.”

“Someone found out.”

“Yeah I killed them. I had to.”

She hung up. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not after that.

She dragged herself to the light switch and switched it off. Carefully she worked her way to the sofa to sit down.

The room was like her morals.

Dark. Very dark.