Bewildering Stories

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The Orkeldor, et al.


by C. Meton

A morf was slithering slimily as a borg was creeping by,
And neither of the two of them could tell the reason why;
But perhaps in search of food they came a-seeking in the place
And found a herd of turtle-dirks nesting face to face.

At first the morf was mystified, the borg was curious too,
For turtle-dirks aren’t seen by one, much less are seen by two.
The morf just laid there looking while the borg jumped merrily around,
Then both of them decided to report it to the town.

They went a-hopping slimily, and traveled o’er hill and dale
Until they came upon the town where they planned to tell their tale.
But people, as a rule, you see, don’t listen to the borg,
And, though he’s very beautiful, they too ignore the morf.

So the two of them just went their ways a-searching for some food,
And were last seen entering a nearby sha-sha wood.
The herd of turtle-dirks, meanwhile, had started such a ruckus
That all the people in the town their attention soon did focus.

Then they chose a delegate to go investigate the problem,
And see if he could find for them a workable solution.
He found a solution, but he found it quite too late,
For an Orkeldor beat him there and he was promptly ate.
No sign of turtle-dirks was found, save a few bone splinters,
And the man has been missing now for nigh on twenty winters.

* * *

Alas, my friend, you say you want to travel
O’er the rugged road to Hornsback town,
The way that’s paved with gravel.
You may not know, dear friend, why that road is so,
But you will — right quickly — if by it you do go.
The worst of evils himself doth roam that road,
And upon it many died while they were young,
Lost both life and load.
That evil is always there, and that is true,
So beware! Orkeldor will be following you.

* * *

It was a cold and blustery winter, the kind that no one likes,
When a terrible occurance came that still gives all a fright.
An event so fear-evoking, how many lives expired!
An Orkeldor invasion is the event I say transpired.

They came from out of nowhere, with breath-taking speed,
So fast that none could see them until they felt their teeth.
The Orkeldor were everywhere, and nowhere could you run,
No place of refuge could be found, no place beneath the sun.

The Orkeldor were hungry, they’d woken from a nap,
And they quickly covered lots of ground. They travelled ’cross the map.
A certain village was their victim: It lay close near the sea,
And that was where the Orkeldor attacked. Now the village is empty.

No flesh was found when folks arrived, no turkeys and no dogs.
No people there, or borgs, or cats; just dried-out sha-sha logs.
The animals and people, the cattle and the pets,
Were eaten by the Orkeldor, the worst invasion yet.

* * *

Aye, and a cold night it was at that, I heard the old man say.
He was talking of an invasion by Orkeldor near the bay.
I think it was the time that a whole village died,
Not one poor soul escaped from them, though I bet they tried.

You may have read about it in poetry of late,
But I have heard from witnesses who can appreciate
The awesomeness of Orkeldor, in singular or plural;
And if you live alone some place, be sure it isn’t rural.

For Orkeldor doth like to come and hunt food amongst the trees,
And everything must run from him or wind up between his teeth.
Some day we’ll go, the old man said, I’ll show you where it was
That Orkeldor invaded to eat up all of us.

I’m glad that I was gone then, to school in yonder-town,
Or I’d be like the others then, for I would too be gone.
I never saw the Orkeldor, and no one living has,
For by the time you’d see him, you’d also feel his breath.
The Orkeldor is swift and sure, and hungry all the time,
And cares not whose life he takes, whether yours or whether mine.

* * *

Orkeldorian philosophy, they say,
Is, “Eat what you can, then get away,”
But I’m not sure if they live that way
Because Orkeldors, till the food is gone,
Always seem to stay.

* * *

It’s been a long time since I’ve written about the Orkeldor,
And almost everyone knows what the Orkeldor is good for.
But a word to the wise is always expedient,
For unwary persons are his dinner’s main ingredient.

* * *

While sleeping in the woods one night I was awakened by a sound.
I listened very carefully, got up, and walked around.
I couldn’t see it, what it was, or where the sound came from,
But that sound kept me awake until the rising of the sun.

The next few nights passed easily, without a trace of noise,
And then again it woke me up, was it animals or boys?
This time I purposed to myself that I’d investigate
And see if I could learn the source. What action would I take?

I looked around and listened as carefully as I could,
But I couldn’t find the source of it no matter what I did.
I wondered if a thump-thump could make up such a noise.
Or if it was a morf, or borg, or a child with some toys.

It certainly perplexed me as I looked around that night,
This noise started to haunt me, and now gave me a fright.
I looked and looked, and listened, and then I found the source:
It was the gleebles in the trees, the archburr trees, of course!

* * *

Once an Orkeldor did come to Village-By-The-Sea.
He was searching something for to eat, and would have eaten me.
But I was shifty, for you know, I always have a friend.
It’s little, but it helps: my thump-thump in a can.

My can did start to rattle, the thump-thump smelled a rat;
I knew it was an Orkeldor, but not where it was at.
I ran and hid up in a tree, and in the nick of time,
For Orkeldor had chosen me upon which for to dine.

I’m very glad that Orkeldors can’t climb up a tree,
’Cause if they did, you can bet that’d be the end of me.
I didn’t look, for I was scared. I twitched like my thump-thump friend.
And with that last statement this book has reached its end.

* * *

In times of old when the earth was cold, ere the invention of the door,
When men trod through snow where the cold winds blow
and knew their feet were sore;
A lonely lad knew that he’d been had soon’s he saw an Orkeldor.

You’ve all seen depression, but I’m a-guessin’ that you may not know what for,
’Cause that creature is sure and that creature is swift —
That creature’s the Orkeldor.
He sneaks up on you when you’re havin’ fun,
And in case you don’t know what for,
There’s no place you can run under the sun to escape the jaws of the Orkeldor.

So just be advised that one who’s wise
Will always peel an eye
To watch the horizon and to keep his eyes
On anything that might be an Orkeldor.

Copyright © 2005 by C. Meton

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