Hello all members of the Fanfiction Community! This is a piece of writing inspired by Geoffrey Chaucer that I wrote for my English class assignment. I included rhyming couplets because my English teacher said that she would give us extra credit for it. I then discovered that I did the entire assignment wrong, and that this would not be receiving credit because I didn't have myself as the actual pilgrim. So now, since I spent a long time working on this tale and writing the lines in a rhyming fashion, I present this to you on Fanfiction.
Enjoy, and if you are reading this be sure to leave a review! I do appreciate you taking the initiative to read this in the first place though; Chaucer doesn't seem to be very popular to the norm. I really love his writing though; he's a very interesting man.
Victor the Mentally Insane
There was once a man, his face consistently grim,
His eyes clouded with grief; his body with twig-like limb.
He knows not a world filled with happiness, value and joy
For those were stripped away from him when he was only a boy.
From Moscow in Russia, to London he came
When he heard of Saint Thomas a' Becket's cherished remains.
By the name of Victor this poor man went,
His spirit is broken, his mind now spent.
He has fair hair and light porcelain skin,
Eyes deep blue as the Oceans' within.
With his two comrades he traveled
Them both wanting a mystery to unravel.
The first in spite of it all was a beautiful woman,
Who always tried to save the heart of any lost good man.
She knew that Victor was already far gone
Yet she still tried to save him from the eternal hells of beyond.
With Victor she always took up her time to converse
'Cause her profession was that of his personal paid Nurse.
His other companion was his sneaky 'friend' named Sebastian
Whose intentions were vile so that evil, I would not put it past him
He would fallow Victor around, for he smelled his underlying money
His mother was rich and widowed; she needed a honey.
He cared not for the man, who was as fragile as a leaf
For he was Moscow's know Hidden Thief.
He went on the pilgrimage to gain all of their trust,
To have lots of wealth he'll do what he must.
Now Victor told his tale of a man just like him.
Who spoke of the world as if on a whim
It could just… vanish into thin air,
And no one would ever be left to care.
Pessimism was the only mindset that Victor knew,
So he decided to tell a story with a rather gloomy hue.
About a man that lived in Waterloo.
A man was cursed with the gift of foresight
He was never unfortunately one of much delight.
He lived all alone in his house by the sky
And every day he would wake up and start with a sigh.
This man's visions would often come on the by and by,
And he would hear the fate of those who were about to die.
Details and hour were all too clear,
When the man saw these things he knew that he couldn't interfere.
He could never wed for he was too scared
To know when a loved one will go could leave you unprepared.
So he suffered, with no contact to human life
Yearning only to have his own lovely wife.
Deep into darkness he would descend
Hell had her fury; why won't this ever end?
The man cried out, and then the next day
He saw a young woman, uppity and gay
She had gotten lost in the woods by his house
And was wandering around, as scared as a mouse!
Desperate for company he ran out the door to go help
Off he ran, stumbling around like a new born whelp
When she saw his half crazed whites blinking in the sunlight
She screamed and panicked, taking hasty flight.
The man that day wished for death,
"I'm done with this world; I'm done with this test!
God take me at the end of this night
I've given up now; I'll go without a fight!"
All of the sudden he heard a shaking,
His house was rumbling and quaking.
He heard a voice echo, bouncing about on the walls
"I've heard your plea, there's no need to begin to bawl.
I've seen the way that you have been treated; and I don't like it at all.
You don't need to worry; you're coming to my halls!
You've earned a spot in heaven at my command
Thank you for preserving lonely old man."
Victor took a bow and returned to his seat,
Putting his hands out to absorb the fire's heat.
With that ending the Nurse exclaimed,
"The point of your story is to whine about a lame?"
Victor laughed, and with that statement; he didn't care about the Inn's game
"No my Nurse, for you it's not the same.
The point of this is that only God truthfully understands the mentally insane!"
The purpose of this tale was to describe Victor, who only told his tale because no one ever listens to him or understands him. Victor didn't really care about the prize to the story; he just wanted to be appreciated for once. The man that could see the future was actually imagining it, so that's why he kept himself isolated because he was afraid of judgment. This was a schizophrenic man that was in the story; that's why it wasn't supposed to make sense in the end. Victor is trying to explain that he's been suffering like the man, and that only god understands his strange ways.
If you are an author that reads my other work; I know that this is not my style of writing, or my genre so it may be weird. I'll get to updating something eventually; I'm so sorry for the wait!
~ LaoevanSVU