molowag

~~ Molowag ~

-------------------------------------------------- Here is a story I wrote in high school. ------------------------------------------------------

Molowag -by Jacob Marcinek, 1994

Upon a jondal mountain top
Where leedy winds and vorads blew,
The Molowag slunked in his krag
And shivered with a wimbly coo.

His fire zapped and snackled wide
To cast away the kraggy gloom,
But poor old Molowag just cried
And borbled of his gomely doom.

"Oh, look at me," bemoaned the beast,
"I'm such a groambled sight to see.
My skin is like the snelgy bark
That grows upon the wiblin tree.
This maingid mass of scrilly hair
Stops short at my tumulous tail.
My horns resemble daggers
Made to gouge and to impale.
My teeth are sharp as tavedges,
My claws are carving knives,
And no one comes to visit me
In fear they'll lose their lives."

And everything he said was true,
For in the valley far below,
The frighty creatures shuddered
In their burrows 'neath the snow.
They knew of Molowag's trife claws;
They feared the daggers on his head.
The thought of gnashing tavedge-teeth
Filled every sothy heart with dread.

"Oh, what a horrid beast!" they said.

They didn't know he used his horns
To poke the fire when it was low.
They didn't know his sharksome teeth
Were used for chewing icy snow.
They didn't know that every night
While they were swiftly sleeping,
The lonely, friendless Molowag
Sat shivering and weeping.

And as he wept one wurlish night,
A distant noise he thought he heard
Like forty growling mombuls
And one screething rackin-bird.
Out of his home the creature moped
To peer into the silver night.
He looked around, and suddenly
The gloom inside him turned to fright.

For down below, and not far off,
A storm like none he'd ever seen
Was blowing through the frosty wood
And stripping needled branches clean.
"Up here I'm safe from such a gale,"
The monster mulled inside his head,
"But if this bluster hits the valley,
Those who live there will be dead.
And though they hurt my feelings
When they say I'm such a vicious guy,
Those helpless creatures in their burrows
Need my help. I've got to try."

So off our hero skittered
Down the grimble mountainside.
Upon his flesh the jagged rocks
Tore gouges deep and gashes wide.
The winds were weezing harder now,
But Molowag, with guts and grime,
Descended to the mulmy plain
In less than twenty minutes' time.

Meanwhile all the valley beasts
Had gathered in a common den,
From every quog and fithendril
To every little mammuk-wren.
They knew a storm was coming,
For they'd heard the distant squally sound.
So 'til the storm had passed, they thought
They'd wait together underground.

The Molowag searched everywhere;
He called down every burrow-hole.
He had to warn somebody,
But he could not find a soul.
And then he chanced upon a hole
That seemed unusually wide.
And into it he squeezed his head
To see what was inside.
"The Molowag!" exclaimed a quog,
And every creature screed with fear.
"Please listen," said the Molowag,
"There's something that you have to hear!
A storm is swooping through this land,
I saw it riffing through the trees!
This fort you've dug will not withstand
The power of the blasting breeze!
So please, my friends, consider
That you only have yourselves to save.
I'll gladly share the shelter
Of my warm and kraggy mountain cave."

"You goady fiend!" replied the quog,
"We see right through your narlish plot.
You'll take us to your dwelling and
You'll cook us in your cooking-pot!
We're staying here inside our den,
No matter what you do or say.
Get out of here, you carnivore,
We do not like you. Go away!"

It broke the Molowag's poor heart
When all the creatures cursed him so,
But since he cared so much for them,
He simply couldn't go.
And if his grobby pleading
Was a useless waste of breath,
He'd have to find another way
To save these friends from death.

He found himself a heavy rock
Beneath a wiblin tree.
And though it weighed almost a ton
He moved it mightily.
He pushed the stone atop the entrance
To the creatures' hiding place.
The hard work made the poor beast tired,
And Molowag fell on his face.

The storm now hit with all its wrath,
And Moly had no place to hide.
He knew the others would be safe
Since he had locked them all inside.
The grizzly winds and whirling ice
Spared nothing in their veersome blast,
And forty hours came and went
Before the goorish blizzard passed.

And up and out the creatures dug.
They felt the chill and looked around.
They shuddered at the damage
And the wreckage that they found.
They saw their homes had all caved in,
They saw the wiblins torn to rags.
And clinging to a twisted stump,
They found the Molowag.

The noble friend had perished
In the storm he'd warned them of.

And all gave thanks for Molowag,
Who'd saved them with his love.

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~~ Molowag ~