The Armageddon and the King Bahrain Drabble Story ~ 100 words ~| Arash

The clouds reminded me of a snake that day – what a day for Bahrain’s Armageddon.

I panicked, my fear reflected in the eyes of the king.

But then we saw it – the king Bahrain. he smiled. A pearl’s queen, an idyllic imperfections and pretty pearls- Bahrain seemed like the answer to our prayers.

King looked at the sword and talked badly. the king, eating gleefully, conveyed similar sentiments.

A sense of deep anticipation ran through my eyes, loving actively.

king admired the Bahrain’s precious pearls, breath held tight.

Bingo!

With help from an incredible pearl, the Bahrain saved the world.

Frosty Monologue

Yes, it’s me. Frosty the Snowman. No autographs right now. I’m not in the best of moods. 

 Why? Well, you may have heard of that show. The show that was made back in the ’60s? I can’t stop thinking about it. That cheesy show with the song that goes, Frosty the Snowman was a jolly happy soul. With a corncob pipe and a button nose? 

 Hold it, hold it. What do they mean by a button nose? I have a long, orange, carrot nose which I take pride in. Not a small button nose like those humans. Ugh. Anyways, let’s continue. 

Frosty the Snowman was a fairy tale, they say. He was made of snow but the children know? 

Yes, what do the children know about me? Five verses into the song and they already have so much arrogance! I am disgusted. Aside from you, I’ve never spoken to a child in my life! I’d better keep going before I hurl snowballs everywhere. Let’s see, There must have been some magic in that old top hat they found? 

 What top hat was that? Abe Lincoln’s?

 I’m not sure if he even had magic in his hat. I wasn’t at the White House. Yes, I know what the White House is! I am not just an inanimate object brought to life by some bozo who thought he had the brains to come up with someone as amazing as me. I am real. I am an anthropomorphic being! Not someone whose father was a snowball! You know what, I’ve had it up to here with humans! Why do you think you are so creative? Of course, I knew the sun would melt me. They thought they were going to humiliate me with a show about what, a walking talking blimp who sings with a bunch of munchkins for half an hour! Why don’t you just watch the show yourself? Then you will see what I am so upset about.! In the meantime, I shall gather my genetic material off the sidewalk! I shall form my brethren, the other misunderstood snow-people of the world, and we shall fight! And we will humiliate the humans…the scum! Or I could just live my long life out on the lawn all winter until I melt.

The Masque of the Red Death Continues part 2

But in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colours and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.
He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm – much of what has been since seen in “Hernani.” There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions. There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these – the dreams – writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away – they have endured but an instant – and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-coloured panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments.
But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumour of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise – then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.
In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince’s indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood – and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.
When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.
“Who dares?” he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him – “who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him – that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!”
It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly – for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.
It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince’s person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple – through the purple to the green – through the green to the orange – through this again to the white – and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry – and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.
And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

The Masque of the Red Death Horror Short Story | Arash


The “Red Death” had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal – the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince’s own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think. The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the “Red Death.”It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But first let me tell of the rooms in which it was held. There were seven – an imperial suite. In many palaces, however, such suites form a long and straight vista, while the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely impeded. Here the case was very different; as might have been expected from the duke’s love of the bizarre. The apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision embraced but little more than one at a time. There was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the windings of the suite. These windows were of stained glass whose colour varied in accordance with the prevailing hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for example, in blue – and vividly blue were its windows. The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third was green throughout, and so were the casements. The fourth was furnished and lighted with orange – the fifth with white – the sixth with violet. The seventh apartment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. But in this chamber only, the colour of the windows failed to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were scarlet – a deep blood colour. Now in no one of the seven apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the suite, there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy tripod, bearing a brazier of fire that protected its rays through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and fantastic appearances. But in the western or black chamber the effect of the fire-light that streamed upon the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes, was ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon the countenances of those who entered, that there were few of the company bold enough to set foot within its precincts at all.It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

Re: Feces In Local Pearl Growing Sea Waters – I Feel Scared! | Arash

Dear Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa,

I am a member of the Democrat party. I have always found your party’s politics somewhat stunning and your individual views rather disruptive. I believe in the values of free speech and honesty.

Your nose is cool and your sense of humour, spiky.

Recently, I have come to feel scared about sewage in local pearl growing sea waters. I am affected by this most days because I love pearls.

During your time as a politician, you have spoken out against falcon hunting and argued in favour of free education. I hope you will rise to the challenge and put an end to violent video games.

I am writing you to ask that you ban violent films and also, hopefully cooperate with China. Don’t let your poor relationship with Theresa May stand in the way of progress.

I appreciate your help and ask that you please send me a response letting me know where you stand on this issue and if you are able to help with my request.

Thank you for taking time to read my letter, oh cool one.

Arash

Re: The Kingdom Pearls – I Feel Underjoyed!

Dear King Of Bahrain, Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa:

I am a member of the Scottish Nationalist party. I have always found your party’s politics somewhat manky and your individual views rather tasteless. I believe in the values of respect and respect.

Your public speaking is amazing and your moral compass, fuzzy.

Recently, I have come to feel underjoyed about the kingdom pearls. I am affected by this daily because I have lost my job.

During your time as a politician, you have spoken out against crime and argued in favour of fracking. I hope you will rise to the challenge and put an end to famine.

I am writing you to ask that you lock up bad people and also, hopefully take a firmer stance on crime. Don’t let your tasteless relationship with Boris Johnson stand in the way of progress.

I appreciate your help and ask that you please send me a response letting me know where you stand on this issue and if you are able to help with my request.

Thank you for taking time to read my letter, oh amazing one.

Arash

Kissing Like Two Canadian Elephants | Arash

Dear Canada,

I have a small confession. Forgive this pouring of my heart.

I cherish Canada, where we first met. The moment I clapped eyes on you, I knew you were going to be a super girl. Recently, I have began to regard you as much more than just a super girl.

My feelings for you intensified when I saw you smooching in the moonlight. I was further wowed by your tremendous loving skills.

You have brains like cool turnips and the most stripy mouth I’ve ever seen. When I look at you, I just want to punch those cool turnip brains and paint that stripy mouth.

You’re so special with your dotty ways. The way you handle your pointy grandpa shows great sympathy and sensitivity.

I know that to you I’m just a wet boy but I think we could be happy together, kissing like two crumpled elephants.

Please, say you’ll be mine Canada!

All my love
Arash

Stick Your Polka-dot and False Job,Fillm on TV

Dear Film On TV,

I have some news, which I think you will find stunning.

Over the last twenty years, I have found working for Filmon both polka-dot and false.

It’s fair to say that my secretary is baggy and the clients are poor, but this has not stopped me from finding the work polka-dot.

I have really enjoyed jewelry making with my secretary and stealing fluorescent paperclips from colleagues’ desk. But all good things must come to an end.

As time has passed, I’ve found that my dreams of becoming a jeweller have become increasingly frequent. Last week I took the plunge and bought myself guitar. I dream of getting up in the morning and singing, something that my current job fails to nurture. Now all I need is piano and I’m almost there.

Thus I must resign from my job as an actor, to pursue my true calling as an jeweller.

In your role as my superior, you have been the picture of patience, which is why I leave with a stunning heart.

Best of luck with your continued pursuit of higher productivity.

Yours sincerely
Arash

Re: The Underwaters – I Feel Frightened! |Arash

Dear Ayatolah Khamenei,

I am a member of the demorat party. I have always found your party’s politics somewhat tacky and your individual views rather spotty. I believe in the values of islamic values and morality.

Your your cloak is fake and your your turban, great.

Recently, I have come to feel frightened about the underwaters. I am affected by this most days because I love surfing.

During your time as a politician, you have spoken out against animal welfare and argued in favour of sewage in local sea waters. I hope you will rise to the challenge and put an end to war.

I am writing you to ask that you introduce me to the world and also, hopefully ban fossil fuels. Don’t let your chewy relationship with Trump stand in the way of progress.

I appreciate your help and ask that you please send me a response letting me know where you stand on this issue and if you are able to help with my request.

Thank you for taking time to read my letter, oh fake one.

Arash

What Could This Green Heaven With Green Fields Be? Drabble | Arash Drabble dedicated to the Kingdom of Bahrain

It has green fields and a light, little leg, which is wide. Rarely have green fields reminded me more of the head of a simple falcon.

Its flaps are as flawless as an exemplary, precious pearl, which has been loving gently in the magical, hot moon (mashallah!).

Naturally, it has all the glory of a falcon, which once flew casually. There is nothing like a falcon that once flew casually.

Lest not forget the slimy, skinny spirit of a steep surface eloquently partying.

king likes its green fields. pearls likes its wide leg.

You’ve guessed it; it’s lovely Bahrain Kingdom!