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unholyhelbig · 2 years

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Ronancetober Day #4: Horror Movie AU

[A/N: Less of a Horror Movie Au and more of a Twilight Zone episode that I watched when I was way too young]

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Summary: Nancy drives back to Hawkins during a stormy summer night. She encounters a strange hitchhiker in a prom dress.

There were three general rules that Nancy Wheeler kept while traveling the 14 hours from Emerson to Hawkins Indiana. Rule one: keep a loaded gun in her glovebox for emergencies only. Rule Two: if you get tired, take breaks, fatigue is not an excuse for dead. Rule Three: never, never, pick up hitchhikers.

It was a steady drive on a single highway that she would split straight down the middle. Seven hours in the morning, a quick stop for lunch, and then seven hours into the night. She had gotten a book on tape of the Grapes of Wrath, had loaded up on orange Gatorade, and had hit the road before the sun even rose about the horizon.

Nancy spent every summer in Hawkins. She would pack up her car with the two totes of clothes and books she had accumulated in her dorm over the school year, and leave the rest for the RAs to pick through. She’d drive and resume her summer internship at the Hawkins post. Schooling had given her claim to something other than errand girl.

It was her second summer making the trip, the air was clear and warm. She had stopped for lunch at a local diner and devoured the burger that the waitress had recommended being the best. Seven hours had flown by and the last seven proved to be a difficult stretch.

Ohio stretched endlessly. There were fields of yellow crop and swaying corn, large oak trees that stretched on either side of the backroads. Dark gray clouds bricked the air and heavy rain forced Nancy to crank her windows up by the time that night fell.

When she stopped to fill up her tank at a Sinclair right on the edge of Van Wert, she called her mother from a payphone on the side of the building. Karen begged her to get a hotel in town, to ride out the weather and get some rest before continuing on her way.

“Mom, I’ll be fine.” She ran her fingers over the ribbed metal chord “I just want to be there. I want to see you and Holly, and Mike.”

Karen understood. There was an itch for Nancy to return home at the back of all of their minds. She had fought hard to get away from the small town of Hawkins, but at the end of the day, it was home and she could get bouts of sickness for it.

She hung up after a rushed ‘I love you' and pulled back out onto the highway. The windshield wipers on her car had been replaced by a senior named Joel Davies who had an infatuation with her. She could see well through the sheets of violent rain. Corn fields surrounded her on either side, slowly turning to wheat and then back to corn.

Nancy slammed on her brakes when the figure stepped in front of her car. The rubber screeched against the wet asphalt, slipping from the sudden stop. Nancy struggled to gain control of the car, ending up in the grassy embankment with her breath rapid and hands clenched around the steering wheel.

Her heart was in her throat faster than her fingers could find the loaded pistol in the glove box. She palmed it regardless. She had angled the car into the embankment in a way that her yellow headlights illuminated the fat drops of rain, the smoke from her tailpipe in the suddenly cold weather.

It was a girl. She had gotten a glimpse of royal blue fabric and what she thought was mud, though it could easily be mistaken for blood. She was standing in the strong color, breath misting in front of her lips white with the weather.

Nancy must be imagining this, a girl in a prom dress. A prom dress of all things, hailing her down in the middle of an Ohio road. She was stunning, Nancy clocked that pretty quickly. There was a smattering of freckles across her features and the coolest blue eyes that she had ever seen.

Despite her better judgment, Nancy Wheeler got out of the car.

She gasped as the water came down hard and fast against her shirt, soaking her to the bone in a matter of seconds. The girl was barefoot, holding a pair of heels in one hand and a useless white wrap in the other.

“Do you need help?” Nancy called over the wind.

“Just a ride.”

Nancy nodded and hoped the girl saw her through the water. She did she walked around the side of the car in time for Nancy to unlock the door and close her back into the warmth. She wasn’t sure if the car could handle the heat after such a long drive, but she turned it on anyway.

The stranger smelled of nature, sharp with clove cigarettes mixed with the dampness of the air around them. She was deathly pale, entirely too quiet for her own good. Nancy felt the gun as she stealthily slid it into the hull of her boot.

“Thank you for stopping.”

She shivered into herself, teeth chattering. Nancy’s instincts took hold of her in that moment. Her chest ached for the girl dripping rainwater into her passenger seat. She reached into the backseat and grabbed the closest coat: a red bomber jacket that was lined with wool, complete with brass buttons. It hadn’t been worn since her freshman year in high school.

The girl took it and draped it around her shoulders. She said again, “Thank you.”

“Where are you heading?”

It seemed like the next natural line of questioning. She had seen her dad pick up one or two hitchhikers on the interstate before Karen forbade him from ever doing so again. While there was no inherent fear of the stranger, there was a sadness that radiated from her in waves. Nancy wanted to cure it. Get her warm and a meal to eat and out of the torn prom dress.

The girls’ eyes lit up. “There’s a diner sixty miles up the road. I can use a phone there.”

“Okay,”

She didn't want to pry. Was this time of year for proms? She never attended her junior prom despite the way that Steve pried and eventually she did give in and go to the dance held her senior year, but it had been a blur of terrible punch and flashy music and men who had layered on too much aftershave. The times could line up, really, they could.

Nancy repeated that to herself as she pulled carefully onto the street and kept driving forward as if nothing had happened. If there wasn’t a girl in her passenger seat at this very moment she would have chalked it up to exhaustion.

“Are you warm enough?” She asked, voice quiet.

The girl pulled Nancy’s coat closer to her bare shoulders. “I am.”

“I’m Nancy.”

“I’m Robin.”

“Nice to meet you, Robin.” She had long ago abandoned her attempt to focus on the audiotape she brought along. Instead, she wanted to learn about the stranger, still respecting invisible boundaries. “Come here often?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were hitting on me.”

Nancy’s cheeks instantly flushed, and she let out an awkward laugh. “No, no. I mean, you’re very beautiful. I just can’t say I’ve ever seen a woman in a prom dress on the side of the road. It’s a first.”

“There’s a first for everything” She was smiling, no malice in her words. “My date was an absolute douche and ditched me on the side of the road on the way to prom. Can you believe that? On the way.”

“How long have you been walking?”

“I… don’t know.” She shook her head as if to clear the fog “A long time, I think.”

Nancy gritted her teeth in anger that she felt was entirely irrational on her part. It was soon replaced by a sadness unimaginable. Steve may have had some growing to do when they began their relationship, but he would never do this, would never shove her out of the car in the middle of nowhere, knees dripping with blood, fingernails caked in dirt.

Ohio, the few times she had driven through it, was desolate. She always figured that what scattered towns lay within were hidden by trees and country roads. She saw the occasional gas station, a farm here and there. It was downright cruel to leave a girl like this, one so captivating, out here in a storm.

She chuckled, a sweet sound “You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t. I feel bad for whatever asshole dropped you off on the side of the road.”

The girls’ pale cheeks heated the same way Nancy’s had. Something in her pushed the words from the deepest part of her mind. What did she have to lose? She would take Robin to the diner, would test the waters to feelings she had been pushing aside for a long time. She would pay for their meal and give Robin a night better than the one she was promised in the first place.

Curiosity tugged at her. Nancy wanted to learn everything about Robin. Where was she going to college? What was she majoring in? How did she meet this guy who had been so cruel and unforgiving?

None of these questions were answered. She saw the neon blue light of the diner wash against the wet streets. It stretched onto the edges of the wheat fields surrounding the out-of-place restaurant.

Nancy slowed down and pulled into the lot. There were two cars parked in front of the stretching windows. She could see a waitress flitting around behind the counter. A man sat hunched at the end of the counter despite the darkness of the night.

“Thank you,” Robin said again, this time a soft emotional murmur.

Nancy shut off the engine and looked at Robin. The neon blue bathed her in a gorgeous color of new beginnings. Nancy fought the unriddled urge to tuck the damp piece of hair behind Robin’s ear.

Robin leaned forward in the small damp space of the car. She placed a tender, grateful kiss on Nancy’s cheek. It grazed the corner of her lip. Her touch was cold, the sensation shooting to the base of her spine like a broken electrical wire.

“Of all the people who have ever stopped for me, you are by far the kindest.”

Nancy’s eyes snapped open, and she was left alone in the front seat of the station wagon. The seat was stained from rainwater and mud, the washed lilac scent that Robin carried lingered cruelly. But Robin herself, and the red suede jacket that was draped over her shoulders, had vanished.

She was shaken up, fear coursing through her veins as she nearly tumbled from the side of the car. Damned, the rain and the puddle that soaked the cuffs of her jeans. It was balmy, the air clinging to the back of her throat, her skin like a second life not shed.

Nancy had nearly wrecked for this girl, and had driven a solid sixty miles with her in the passenger seat of her car. There was no plausible way that Robin could have exited quickly and quietly. She wasn’t in the diner; Nancy could see straight through the windows.

After gulping in three large breaths, she entered the diner. The air conditioner was blasting. It dried the rain against her collar and made it feel tight. Her fingers were shaking. The waitress behind the counter had a calming nature about her. She placed a laminated menu in front of Nancy, who ended up ordering a warm cup of whatever tea they had to calm her nerves.

“Darling,” The waitress said, pouring steaming water from the kettle. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Nancy didn’t’ wait for the tea to seep from the bag. Instead, she drank the slightly tinted yellow water quickly enough for her stomach to simmer. “I think I might have.”

#Ronancetober Day 4 #Ronancetober #Robin Buckley #Nancy Wheeler #Ronance #Ronance fanfiction #Stranger things #Stranger things fanfiction

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libidomechanica · 10 months

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I have added a slight scandals strange, are it

A ballad sequence

And he opprest my weary brow. Weapon than an aged sisters of the hand forbid? Without a guide. What merchant-

ship, the more gentleness, but that bright, dreaming in the affairs suppose. ’ For a vent; arrived, by pure necessity

and morn. To þe hyȝe honour at þis Nwe Ȝer, hit negh myȝt of þe grene chapel men knowen of þy gifte, þat watz not

wrothe, þat wynter to be at his right name, Caesar himself, a sheath and the rose; they are but a dog then most I algate

mynn hym to, and lach þer hir luf, oþer recreaunt be seized, inside its amethyst blue gaze. Had lovers quickly we’ll

undress to one whose leaves of thing over their sabbaths here, or what I’ve shunned so harsh, but fouler far this fiery

race; but when right, drawn after Sorrow to each other, and his blysse and hir þeder in a pellet of a won in

wod þer heȝly honowred with two alone the queen. Crooked, and, stepping to fade away— yet not meant to see her

there in one agree: what, he victuall’d as we do. When birds do sing, and conueyed, bikende hym ȝelde þat tyde. ’Twas bootless

thing, it shall whelm the Powers keep religious men, who with gown tucked up, to wakes; for thee; sounds not body; he was absence

vain: the Future I may have it is each them that’s this tangled power, and now in this, that Eloquence is bold

even that face of departed þe wesaunt fro þe body, þat blykked on hepez in þe wod of a whale to

some black memorial on the best. To sup or diner watz rayled ayquere hit is þe tytel þerof to telle

of trees, dancing they still it haue wrought it seems to fail it is my life and feel why time shall live, remembering here

reaching hed, pray that foam’d above, around me, and swell took her with as god mon schulde resayt, bi þay were restayed with

tears when the maps the pined with debt: for ho hatz ben longe. In the words are coin’d in control they eyed each account, their

tedious to his feet; save the south. Peace sitting calm around, one and stoffed wyth a schunt þe schulde no freke in hitself?

Who in the soul need not to give him spread as breeze a hundreth of hunter, hooks. Ship off the Holy Three to Senegal; teach them to the other million times in forlorn, dying all-sufficient forth good manners, and stemed and chekez þat were neither old or new. That thou wert cold dead; and none of Sisyphus, if once with their estate—this instigates

an appetite to plese, þat þus hor knyȝt I becom, and secrets, haply I might for, baith kirk and quat-so bifallez after all, no Remedy but Flight. The poor patience; first childish push-pin, for wants the boatmen, too engulfed as the left me borrow, sit by their brevity to rewardez. Lord it o’er the married man, and some grass as bright

entice you else by arms will storms have been by need to the daughter the whole I planned! For of blood, and were I chide those Cherries banish mee. Yet there, ere man but follow’d, as a poplar or a pole, a travell’d on the silent happiness! Pure token of studious zeal or Woe, nothing lutes; nor be afraid! I will not die. To recover from her

lip, the Argo, convey’d Medea’s magic: every virtue dignify a woman could watch thy hope, to thee, that he left her mou’, her fathers a repertory of face, strakande ful hoge and so he would content, with yȝen gray, a semloker knyȝtez þen innoȝe ar herde he lenges; and whisper’d the Splendour gradual swell’d poisonous about in the

van of his hede as alle your voice back into the wilder’d on the pleated shirt yellow- sailed boat comes the shape of mine lies another declare—i’ll say, I wish to spare em, for I see that he stod vpon spare em, for a garysoun, and Nineveh. Are they follow that vernal beau. Say I’m sad, say that Ill may be said or done and then should surely

be. Or music of Heaven the leaders sped; but great described better. Sweet music came to seche: he seȝ non such guise that cup has been dealt in an April wears out thy soul should have though shuddering new love pursue: ’twas guilty sinner,—he did not yow devaye wolde not sink i’ the grey-hair’d creature he askez; serched up for profit when from the billows:-

when like a prophet, in such you might lapse gainst my heart, which, like a common places. He kysses hym þe bronde and for all in the aggregate may average on that my affected, I opine. Who will flip, let alone as hem best semed, ne no pysan ne no schafte ne no schelde and lull its reason’s rule now reign thy thought to witlesse they have to lie

on a lyȝt horce launces hym frayned hym swyþe—and of the rye, with grief does know. Who, after, wayuez vp a wyndow, and pité, þat proude in hymseluen þe fautles of kest; þer ros for blys and constantly awake unto me; love with so pouer a mon, and commodiously loked, wyth wynne, where thou hast the end. To overslide, or be deliverer, how

desolate, and whether a sky’s or tradesman’s ware or his steps, and thank your will, the red golde schapen watz noble births, nor dread the enlivener of mete and fortitude that vessel: soon she went, he added feather. Of the tree turn sleep to costume. Let but a voyage may cool; but such neuer freke þer- byside, sir Gawen, and the viewless

wind. All possible music has soul two souls can make him. Who art as blacke but in bail for his wings, ere he in her lele luf hir bityde; ȝif þay found, it seems to fair thou hast smil’d? To teche, as ȝe at þis tyme, þat þe hyȝe, bot vnhap had hym in syþes sere, and quykly of þe knot alofte; his schulde schapen to sorȝe, for such a dere tyme so kenly þe

colde to flyȝe ful hyȝe, and let lodly refuse. You lounged, like a high cloud divided at the sky is clear, and pine, and one more; bot for such a point of a dog can be hugged, or change for the king, as the Living Water drain’d. Wave on wave, just what I’ve shunned so harsh, but in their sphere. Are bull, your mind was not myn ernde to acheue chaunge, what not, to please, I do

contentment with our eyes. I slid the fool the womb— it is now your voice with a silently describing to redeem his heavy Saturn’s vintage; mouldest moder so dere, of beast, behemoth, and nymphs, and heþe at hys lef home, fyndez fire vpon Goddez blessyng, and, in this, that thou only care is beading to redeem his hert arȝe wyth ful stor words that

thou through a woman in converted are from our offender gave, and having came Oceanus the queen myself, believe that bee which, in disentangled the foreheads; saw thee, my Rose; years have sworn to die alone. Let me feel the November of tumbling felt about the bride: but, as the chair, did thus the old man, which holds a forwardez nouþe, þat noȝt

watz neȝ at þe heȝe dece, dut he not þe ladyes innoghe, þat brode ȝatez. Are both good aboundeth! And his sacrum qui vulgar people of a sute, and euermore unrest; my though in wretched the woman died. Back to Scylla in a niche and I the day become both projected, we are ill at more, for Gode, my gay, and a hey nonino, for love

exclaim: Forbear, while graceful lady to loke þo ladyez wlonk þe knyȝt þere as marble was like waters wash’d by the same worlde wakned lote, þat siþen ho seuered þe hyde. His blasoun boþe halue, þaȝ hedlez he were, and never know how longing fire, by force accomplish’d:- If he utterly hit hym þoȝt, if he be fair. Sir Gawan ful glad, and pin’d for books

have drain’d.—Fairest maid on Devon banks, crystal. I tried in fourme we oure bare nek; þaȝ he lowkez his bele chere: iwysse with a borelych bytte bende of a stif staf þe sturne, stif on þis flet, ellez þou ne wonder, he let not from the God’s sake! And laȝter myry, as withalle. Part, there’s variety; also a seasoning slight hint, to

hunt in þe grene, refourme of his hondeselle, ȝeȝed ȝeres-ȝiftes on earth we are ashes, what armour to haue at your love, yet when the acutest hinters, admit, rejects the viler, as underhand, not openly bearing the sill, he gave us being, and lyȝten on þe flore, and if I be not much baret to quelle; and þenne he

meued to his pocket&turned tyme twelmonyth and bleden, bi bonkkez to sadel, vpon Goddess beckoned and dear, that wax and wane in love should therefore can’t well he knelt before sette, and runyschly he rydes into a foreigners excel the loss of reach, as growe, which keepes the silvery showed, the Master in the cause, as judges are steadfast? Ones, and

I grow cold, and from the tree. And as the shame which in this they succeeded in his lute: his finding, Dear, to love, nor power, how with silk sayn vmbe his sleepy eyes I was wonder your street and a yellow peels, my stinging bow’d his because I am old, so little black clouds run slow, slight recedes and of absolute, subject to non ille ne pine.

And he took there’s mony baner ful brode, and gef hem alle goud day, he wende when I sit a Bird accurst upon

thee, on peril of my Prosperity, to tell; ’tis past all her homage to his blonk, þe bryȝtest’, þe burȝ boȝed

together, you, a sparrow on the strictest in fear of worth. Deep water-world, then tell you believe that aw’d echo

into oblivion; and some prize, both himself, and die rather weeping dove, nor followed me. This task of joy that

fatal power. Form, in heaths, and muffled thud that fault; once more gently strokes. And happed to music fled, tomb’d in a

twilight now, and order all the World, and eke the Misses bridled, and spekez, I wyl nauþer golden scabbard on a

strawberries. It once How good townes be lost, þat þe lude myȝt about in a ker syde sittes, boþe þe later I too

creep to the real portrait of that will one day beat you hold in your con onswarez agayn, sir Gawayn, ’ quoþ þe meny,

boþe þe lyre and forgetful utterly of self-intent; content thy will. For note, when story, and swell the sand?

In any oþer maner of me. And emptied to the unknown power to take his gold for ever—ever dare to sue thee that o’er my desires; don’t look in thy breast and

doesn’t the enumerations? Ta now þy geserne, vpon scho fonge þay wenten, now as we flit by each other, go to the cost nor shame o’t, but being brief, thou, then for thou

hast her, it is esteem. The strictest in fear of height and pine. Cried, one leg stuck in measures, where at full-blown, shed full of discontentedly, with hymseluen, couth not one. And

tender hesitation, or redeeming shakes hand—the deep east, dun and lemande to flower that April dress’d with the early love up in the barbed shafts of disappear; and al

with any sign or charge þe, to fonde of þe corsedest kyrk þat euer ȝe tale herde of þe world is all. You lounged, like Aurora, proue of gentle moon, and groan for me to

þe erþe, his cher mended. To your wine, on the shore, so did hit þere on the topics most mad ay god chere, and emptied to thee. And waked me wyth þe peple bifore þe chef

hunted al þis day, which alone no mixture did admit. Parted dead. And leaves in speche, dere dalyaunce to quat ȝe demen. Of studious zeal or Woe, nothing to myself and

his great compassions, wit without pretence, not Momus self I praise or blame. And I feel their servant take thy rest; would you know the sea breathe ten hundreth together, you, a spark.

I have to live and wane in love. ‘What all departed dead. No matter for you saw too that are young! Or his mysdede, here is wayth fayrest þat fele fayre schedez on semez, and þer bayen hym to haue, when she left behind. But draw the

waur best-graced grace? I cared for hys mayn dintez þen any thing, I own, whene’er to be a Jew. That upon it, I have prove, and out of sight; beyond thinke of your hidden pride In the learning of youth, darken’d in the fireside with

terror, to hunt our error, retire: but I am gone in bloom of your mouthe of þe leude þat couþe. Or music’s cage, who long attendance, and shaking a hundred years we’re chasing the rain. And hatz out þere, neuer more that things have

been female dates, strike louies, and ruȝe knokled knarrez with handsome ancient time, when birds from all we for gander, ’ and taste the Water-Monarch. Or what a load of Right, it is so nigh. And having in the NY sky but is the common weed

the maples for you go: the sooty oil. But it isn’t the uninitiated. And had ben seuen ȝere in þis lorde greue, and most alone sinks down he knelt before the Hesperian tast surpasse, mony aunter bitidde, þe chauntré of þe

bryȝtest’, þe burȝ and þy bur, bede me no lote. Among prynce of þe londe welde, for if þe ȝonder dere, to deme were human accents halcyon. He dancers will he slepe so slake my blood without you—two days in sheer astonishment;

forgetful utterly scans all the worlde worchip he wolde hit were than this beauties so diuine ravisht, staid not, thought to range some truth had come naked and had the way, and þe masse, laykyng of prys, parauenture. Your trade was with their halls, and I

wol þe as wel, wyȝe, ȝe sayn Jon, ’ and smeþely con he smyle, in fayth hit þoȝt. But I, vnbid, fetch her but I? As was no great disparaged to herkenez bi heggez ful fayre— þaȝ I hade no bones. Who has not kept the village, the Salt

I have lullaby they love away. Now let me here needed a music-master nature, and fann’d away by thy doubts appease. Past land and also yow alle þe trwly, ’ quoþ þe clere costez þe lord chief justice of al þe rous rennes

of þe brode paumez; for þaȝ men ben mery in my story straight. He myntes boute spyt more. The spite of hell is tumbling like a monument over the way, at court the moor and tired I look’d for mercy. Drinking sure, each

humanity, but why should fall and part; sweet love’s beauty shall sting. Than Heav’n, and his lyre, and near my health, the grounde stondez, and Gawayn þe noble innoȝe vpon thy cheek a rose and, Which wonted were most kyd knyȝtez. Writ in the Sea-God’s head.

And forest green, with gay gaudi of grene. And whiles, faire shew, while all delight. Or all turn out untrue. Want of words are void of comforts me: a brute, therefore cannot but look down

or See, it’s something beyond all my soueraigne parties to compensate, trying not to real hell. Hope, in pity mock not Absál at his wings, ere he draȝez hym sone, warnez hym ryȝt,

redly I trowee þat ȝe lye nexte, bifore all worth a tour to haf wonnen? He saw far in the wild wood and ill, on either hope to find Endymion, with truest bars to their

name, or make a ladder of the sex will teach discern, compare, not prizing her pace, now turning shuts, a certainty, perhaps they didn’t say it. Ho commen; gayn hit hym vp and

fears annulling page music that it is what it is hir name, calling rain names of the palaces of silent happiness, and schon þurȝ a roȝe greued Gaynour and heave my side,

until mine. Ears: now I have walk’d, or studie quo walt þay þat day doubble on þe des and out he watz þe gyld gere þat he folȝed longe; he calde hemmez, and as þou hettez, and

panting smile; time has thrown on men of every isle, and crossed the very wretchednesse things done, that mine ear. Silver lip kissing into is, was, and sayde soþly I know, than she.

So þat þe here is no stronger, darker and noble person, grace, or the viler, as undertaken be, they led on red ryche cote-armure, his gold sand imps he seemly raiment

of that aged form, look’d upon the soil. Past land and equipp’d a Camel, and sone þer com a porter, some summer winds and walked with beauty still, I tried in her leue, hit

is þe token lystily for Thee—Oh spurn thee forgot. And Agrauayn a la dure may be dear, and many a scalding tear: the child, as it were a knyȝt þat couþe. And making,

the bar, a blunt plainly see how the black chords upon an affidavit, romance, but being drawn and rent of þe lede with Truth. Pensive angle with you and I. He brayde broþerhede,

a bauderyk schulderez his white, poor Cynthia! For one venerate a petticoat—a garment of this failins, ’twill please herself shalt give whate’er their required. Behold!

His even thou lift the glasse, offred and twittering of things are steadfast? My life, no cloud as syllables, till you require. The Brightest, come away! The horse, my hand;

I warrant thee, i’ll never will he slepe sound commodiously loked, wyth a glent wilful- slow, towards a tomb. The Drinking, laughed free, and once and ennui. From this cold regions

run, thick as they join, joints dovetailed hare: how the pass’d in such you should not be longer duke or ear, or no; or whether with eyes are her cheeks, a pattern of all most desire.

And couetyse þat I have her this sort of the north flowers, thought me meikle wae; but of a dog can be. And who can fight against my kisses bridled, and finger fails; and tumbled

down a precipitate a situation? Or seeing he was the atrocious, unless you love; I sit a Bird accurst upon the sun, the last doth preserved his life.

Me still procure, Alas! To have sworn. Let me be ware. Die single Almond packt. That they dance, and Lyonel, and sesed

þe knyȝtez. With hor kest of the pane I know not how it is worþy as ȝe hyȝt, þenne sayde, Quat schulde. Thickens your pleasure

the prize, both white hand, my launces hym frayned þe freke þat he were þat al he schulde hardi be boþe. Who could tell

there was a better luck a better, youth descending days, making up the whole days in bed cawing Nooooo at their bodies,

none enough, gone under thee with the beautiful dreamed that, amassing what young doue may, go marry; for he went,

griped all his payttrure, þe endeles knot. Content to renew her transparent might unused stay from his voice singing.

Than Heaven’s assistance be contend. Full sweets into the gruff complain truth, and care! ’Mid continuous roars, and some

piercing tride, as ony brat o’ wedlock’s bed, in a’ thy starry night by Night Zulaikha went to meet you said with

wymmen þat þay same. Is differently their own weight, the wilder’d stranger flow. Who eats fire to women, calling stream,

nor left me, and horses and daisy, salvia lyrata … oh goodbye to creek joining there—hands, rose cheek who can

think men love when wink awhile his spouse to leave them, and swarez agayn, bi my faythful I fynde þe a stroke out þe

avanters, and only joy, his muthe, as ȝe reherce here þat aþel Arthour I hat; liȝt luflych knyȝt craued leue quen þay

slypte, slentyng of þe scharp yrne. That souerayn I holde lenger þe knyȝt, Gawan I have yet done, exactly the women

most deed:-thou wast my clarion’s blushes,— he though better, bot to trust what a wild flowers, and by oath the path thee.

Resuming quickly shall discover in the Skein of Joy.—Whence courage quails and brought else, here’s no describing their man.

For virtue advance; for to teach and through language—the liar, ah God, as he sits to pestle a poisonous about

the matrons frown’d; some say, for wyn in hys helme, and pain by the same world, unblessed on the boatmen near who are

no rewardez. And he hem raysed for her Heart turn’d gem, appear’d along with airy fellow- men with no specially

after pay the language no laws, we’re chasing they loved tracasserie, ’ began to loke on þe morne, as God wyl me wysse.

A careful, tender nurseth them. I know no gome þenne! Are the queen of straw; had your ease, and stifly start bi stoundez, and smiles which from times are steadfast? And as golden scabbard

on a pile of children would some palace of Heaven whisper from her Cheek, and hatz out þe bolde þat he beknew cortays speche þay þe bauderyk bounden boþe þat ryol red cloþe

þat ros vpon folde bifore, and bryȝt blaunner was awful, and sete, sesounde of þis ryched at the Blue Mountain, love I shall add them not; and of brest and day, and tak the true blood;

and as ho stod, and wan’d the grounde, and he hit to fynde hys fere vpon hepez in þe inore half so nice as being brief, the real portraiture of my House, light of ioy, the coffee,

open the night was made: our times away. The outlet thee wi’ as gude will as a’ the prey of every virtues are bad. Tis said—indeed a generalities. To grauntez

byfore, bot such a sadel þat glemed ful newe neȝed þe twys, and sulkily the woman was there shall never dying all reprieve’s too late.— In short, the world is all

the West, lest thy harshest vengeance between sea and sky: this conditions of torment, as a knyȝt of Morgne la Faye, þat much berd as a bauderyk, aboute þe haþeles on his

honde, hef hyȝly halden, and do hit out of view, dissolving into the water’s brink she lay thy loof in mine, lass, that treasure, but sweets to soft music that is myldest moder

so dere, of sum auenturus, oþer sum of years, do I remonstrate: folly wide the merely quote what it is scaþe þat þou schal be warm, the ruffian’s hind feeding on my hip,

turn sleep to the latter whether by lent, as I trowee þat ȝe be, wyȝe, welcum þis ilk wele bi wytte of your past impression! Hence shall arbitrate? A goodly verdurous

matting of a son … You! And ryȝt bifore þe fayre on his hod boþe, and al watz raysed hit at his paunce at the empty honour ends, and Tellus feels his forsnes he ferde as

hem best semed, and they do, t will choose; a fair possession, to pleased, prolong his teeth, for wet filaree and ladies all marrow bone hostel, ’ coþe þe lady luflych knyȝtez.

As that hell-born Circe. Next, that I prize reserve thee with women: but thy rim, skull-things turn to Loathing; a good grace of

thought. Sit thou be what had redden þerinne as he fetched with it it must plays an ende. Mete and somewhere the loves to

sete, þe burne þat ros vpon þis knyȝtez. And sunly and let as he used to scorn, good Thenot leave thus governes mee.

Let God worche at him—Hysterical,— he breathing stuff might see swallows obeying their joy, and says as ho stonyed

hym sone, rased hym weue. For greme þenne, bertilak de Hautdesert I hat in blacknesse bright coming of arwes—at

vche wende on schulderes; hir þryuen face as þe wyȝe, I wolde yow aboute hone, þe duches doȝter of Tyntagelle,

þat geten hem bylyue. Dar any harme hent, arȝez in þis hous hym þryes, as of a tree, till high defiance ’gainst the

tear or mend. Neuer þe launde, and whiles, faire disgrace, let him almost close thought the debris of prys in mony hatz taken—

for ho hatz dalt—disserue, ȝif ȝe haf waled wel better, I schal fange at þy fust þat I ask bi ryȝt. Then Piers,

of friendly kiss: I promised the guy. Pale grew thin like a gray washboard; where the sky and when upon a tuft of some

Columbus of their own flesh to- day demay yow þat ilke gome in þe wod of a whale to some palace rang; the Nestors

were the beautiful dreamed that treasure passe. Fair the tiles, for fools will splash the black Buick, driven by a blade

of fresh foliage and straight to seed. Before her cheek when it goes black, we will there be some minx tripped to þe garysoun

oþer leude þat he were, and folden in wyth yrn to þe heȝe felle; nade he no lenger on lyte droȝen. Or should the

Fair, together in his boþe al aboute, of þe grene to Gawan glydez ful ryche and left us by inheritor

of element, to kysse at you you will, we are sold to the nerves of my House, light of morn, with the score, sad rakes

too fierce temptation marks kissing into is, was, and swere swyfte by his returns: like thine. Had: as a kid, it was a

mon me to a human think not shines, mountains rise, and sometimes with clay, do not know, or done amiss, and rave at the

strangle with it a pattern of all motion as well as a’ the priests with your high defiance ’gainst my love me for

þe nonez, and so wyl I no more bot snyrt hym one, carande stonde þer I lende, and þurȝ wyles of woe? Children is gone.

With ledes for a short breath; thou gav’st Leander breath with her venture. Their face wad fyle the witch, hast never to

return, I am now, With Time’s injurious hand we were the Water-Monarch. No melody; gone are soundyly

out of reach, as growe grene stele to þe hult, þat þe colde to þe flesche þurȝ alle oþer halowed þat he myȝt.

Will be. He wolde fulsun hom, þe fayre fylyolez þat my legge lady þenn spek of leudez þer maden. Wich spede is

in its bright to court carolez newe with mournyng he slode, sleȝly he þonkkez ofte a traueres bi traunt of life is

oft a dread that we are alle arayde, þe ȝatez wer stoken faste, faythe, as any other end of God who gives,

that thou wast thews immortality. Strangle with gret dyn to þe ston, stod he stroke surpris’d and vast; and the morn to

my tale. For this sweet day is gone. Now þat he had, I wad na gie a button for her! When by a dead this but then

should not lose you for mercy. Knight what Thou the wing, round ever he wolde lyste his pocket&turned the powers voted the

knight was a lover holding on his Eyelashes wept Blood— Search everywhere, bright blue gaze. This wand again, that we covet

the female or male? Make my heart, pity a human pastures; or, O tortures hot breath with fame; for age and quiet

to him befalling like a temper Juan’s faults of his wyte, ne wowyng of þis hous holdez hym on þat holde lengez

þe couenaunt ȝe craue in þis euen þyn aunt, make coffee, open the west shoots—Add this the wind’s body. At the lightless

art to weare, whil my love is life, thy worth, despite: and a-propos of motion charms my might proving upon this

earth’s smoothly to my mouth, each bud puffing out from those powers; but form good vse doth not one. His moder watz he werrez,

and brayden fulness at my shoulder, he means deals in fiction: she watch’d for want you leave a black snakes upon a

tuft of straggling weeds, to the throes of gladness! Radiant beams my cheuicaunce, þat gret whyle, such chaffer and they, my soul

it came yonder round me; by my petals with they must be: for decades she hath they reach—tho’ lost on þe morn, for to

mete with shapes as Jove did when the day. As long and towchez, chaunge, fer floten fro þe chepen and kysses hir

comlyly as he hem raysed is euer; byfore þe costez þe court he shall distinguish you, and of Retribution.

We’ll weary watching a prayere, and more beauty shall distinct their brows and future/current noon texting for each other’s

naked. Wound was, greatest grief, the red man’s breast. Soon after year, my carrot, my cabbage, I wolde kepe hym wel þat tyme,

with women: but their silver iterance! Which bears with mony golden hair, and time, whether their promise to try to

remene. Inevitable Outside their thankfulness. They did all to me. He watz nieȝ nyȝt, and of the David or

their spirit, overwrought, may be fix’d at somewhat mechante in heroes and ladyez; and þat þay vsed. As since without

the knight was made: so, better; I schulde. Walked within his own. Thy selfe, doest striue all my every god be thank’d, and, trembling

for clamour, when young husband weather. For now thou not reserv’d. Even as they each other’s faded cheek when I reign.

First doth go, how loudly Thenot lieth! Further. Seek doubting much too poor for each shell and fair, but glorifies his Lips.

Rejoice we are who love may still are dights her great Sea-King bow’d to his cler armez, loutez fro þe mete to were.

Ah, Chloris mair than she guess’d by this they were to the south summer is no peace at last axiom, he advised his sad misfortunes, and several sexes; neither madly; and you’re psychic no one but torment, as a poplar or

a prize reserve their fountains to all men lie; peace in hert; wherfore sykyngez. I, cumbred with words whereof now he þat ȝarkkez al menske þenkkez, þe hede hade. Her conduct free; so, when you speak,—I grant youth’s heritage, whose beames to

wed; then to die; yet there’s no other charm, warned a dying year fallen such an ill-paired couple seen. Parten ryȝt þere on coolde; gawan watz spyed and wan’d the human eye: for decades she knew not. And all too late. First breezeless lake,

on which state comes nerre with backward glance behold! As thou’s fair, and pray persuade me the tree wearing made, shall still the slewed mirror of your high defiance. And Salamon with an aluisch mon, for what is worthyly wonnen hym þere,

þat is gast of life, thy workes reproue, and layde hym chefly cumaundez to dele yow for drurye doubled by a sparrows pair, and finger failed to a beauties so diuine ravisht, staid not, till the nerves of pris depresed hym in araye noble

hands, rose from the red man dance of Platonism, which will come smoothly, also so cortays knyȝt so toȝt. What now the painting of arwes—at vche wende vnder, why aught found it round his life, your every god be the shuddering for there, bright

essences; he shall never was found, his who had given to life’s busy wits to me as a chosen þere. To show but Calvary—Talk to your state, this new-appearing its expansive with þe slete he slepe sound I here pass; with dandies

dined; heard in that they loue. Past cure I am, yet I can prove The phœnix riddle nature’s art harmonies of Princely Grace put forth, sufficient forward toe, her much-adored delight to witlesse thy linger in the Hall, maud the body

watz clene in hymself þat in my verse—it visits have won the running Time she was gone into his lode for tears. Which all other can show quickly forth þryngez vmbeweued þat fyne force, but add, jenny kissed he ful hyȝe, and clay, do not

do, lest I deuayed were; a balȝ berȝ bi a bonke þe brydel, hit þe hors fete þay þer expoun of druryes greme and gomen is your faith to a dying flame! Was not likely, with all the spring, that so sweetest soueraigntie of reason’s rule

now reign thy thought I could not comlych carolez newe with shapes unseen among þo þornez rachez þat weppen in hallez—and þe halme grypez, and how insane the queen and purging fire, pull’d down but up! My skiff along green the pelf

with grene ar her welcumez hir softly on þe wod hit watz he neuer þe bryȝtest’, þe burde bot þe lasse bi a rokk þer repayres; vche mon þat leuer wer nowþe haf þe, hende, in forlorn wretched the sea. He left me famished, but

if thou pass a cruel, cruel space, with bryȝt sunne. Beautiful face a-washin; but Willie had, I wad hae thee, his degré grayþely at home, far more that I can’t help scribbling once asked thy linger, thought run wild while day lapped a flone—þat bicumes

vche a cace. Now I þonk yow, bi þe rybbez radly þay flokked in fear that same fruit doth rest. With alle þe iles of the best, let me love by bonnie Doon to see her turn. And set the sun, and goodly spired, or wife, in any

manner by their cheek when it grew besides there are who lord it o’er thy cheek a rose full sweets to steal about the Past. Lady, this is so dramatic this scroll, and, with symbol- essence could I haste to those who expectation of love.

But thou, unknown by heart have drain’d. Hit is scaþe þat þou wypped of no rescowe. Thou art all men lie; peace in his fyue

wyttez, þat þe sidbordez. And sweetheart beat once more gracious are, most sweet-faire, yet swelled the queen may take from the tree

a blue moon shines, mountains flow? Periphery pinned to find, the only the true blood; and syþen with any sign or change

of flowers, and Aethon snort his movements, no sorrow liue. She has known sorrows given: yet firme love. In a swoghe sylence

þurȝ forse of haunts umbrageous; could grow light. I say Drink Me I say it. The sons propped an awkward the throes of gladness

in all I could a creature wept. With love: little lap- dog breed, who like to mach, for soþe, as soon’s she said, No, no.

Yours be the wind like a young souls: I heard the sea breathe not þerwyth of ful dere metes, foysoun ouer his hed of his

movements continue good. From the Arrows that they dance, and legs want play, the counsel Juan. The broad estates to me as

a flint is free; regretting kine, couched in oþer, myn honourable vows receives: and mine’s a bubble, not even with

green their own, a thing it touches. In lieu of song. There are dangerous thing, but then whisper of artless art to beauty

still as bright. Are, must be country that my affection move, thou art commission’d bowers I see your voice of alle

dayntyez double post, and huge, and storing chance between mine ear again, assured of thy greatest ashes, as leuest

þing for clarification. On the day, right sun. The same; whether with causefull teares! When did themselues O

sweetest prison twine. No marvel then he hym grace of his hede, þi spere and raykez þis knyȝtez vnder heuen, kyng hyȝest mon

of wynter nas wors, when the moist earth as t was. The wilderness where thereby! Whether comes in at þe haȝer stonde þe

behoues. The name once. It will not hurt one hair was a fine and Juan will fall; but this hert and couetyse boþe! For to fonge.

Neuer he stod vpon silk bordes barred and chalk and those sugred phrase … children would there apart, waiting for silver light lifts

up his stampèd face then wrong, and fear, thought of ioy, the crystal- smooth it festers so that fierce men on the different go-between;

with lullaby. Ten men love with as inconstantly, was so much that a load of Right, it is most lowe, þe leuez

his counsel to chemné, and doth lie, yet mortal and omnipotent, didst thou mayst have taken, mends our joyous hour but

even knows, so many things, hungry arab—after messe metely delyuer hym deue, and yet regret—no major

tension in; bitter became gaunt, with the flower-enamour’d busy bot bare bifore þe hyȝe table fills with her

venturous climbings and treleted with his launce ryȝt hym bysyde, as ony braþ houndes wyth þe softe watz holȝ inwith,

nobot an olde caue, or a creuisse of Wyrale; wonde worþyest of dead, half sighing to human heart, and look like

a miser’s hoard, a loving and poison’d poison behind. For loving and mercy non vses, for fun watched each other,

may be unwrought me to I was a winters, with a stark unprinted silent, sullen steps; another day; a year

is tamed: and t will teach discernment to be destroy’d. And frantic-mad with the depths of magic, and ellez do quat

kyth he becom knwe non oþer ȝe mowe. Steep, mingled poisoned was moved to man, with something over: you’ve to see to its

foundations, it was before him, hurl’d him to compelled, on her for her husband’s honour his head, and the darkness to

all worth þer þe ruful race he schulde haf þe godemon so glad watz borne, wele walt þer moste; burnez innoghe of

þe londez launce is there will breath, as dark water—jessamine, rose, and þe wallez were green and kennen ayþer halue, and

water bottles her overshadows, and bleden, bi bonkkez þer clenged; nwe nakryn noyse with syȝt þay same. As growe,

which, in disentangled power, and inspired. A cloth’s periphery pinned to noȝt, and doggez to determine

when ȝe wyl a whyle sesed, and be cheated, and freschly his venysoun to feel distemper’d love’s sake hold it!

For later þat siȝed for fuel; I had wanted and when storm- rent disclos’d the sprinkled holy watery pillowing

of the topics most consequent visits a rose full sweet day is forgot. Though blindly contumelious, brought to stand

on hepes; here are dabbled with gret dyn to þenne, mon schulde haf þe gode gle, and hade belt to rhyme at, because she thoughts

and snow? His inexperience made the trumpet heard, twise said, No, no. Spell entangled power, nor ceas’d to com þe

kyng as kene bi kynde þen stod þat swete, felle ouer loked. Tis so becoming back to Scylla fair! A pattern of

a best, with tears and hastily hit semed welneȝe of all the finger. In bliss the truth and blue-stockings, and secresy:

and constant glance up in some nigh by the feel a handsome man, and Errik, and þat yow devaye wolde kepe hym weue. Ere

it sleep with my friends, when nothing morn. Where art the kind. The sway of human things, the sea love is crownèd with the night awake?

Hit is a bittour bumps within its last arctic blast has slain spirit, without baptism, a third degree; if

better, thought so doth sit: o let me freeze or glow, and—what to him better on his blood from things seem only one in

pieces small agacerie. Full many wanton winds and to his cloþez þe colde to fly have added feather phone book there’s

your advice! When I got to holde, as may þat much bale þoled. Long a stand, praising the sweet in spring. When thy

lieutenancie to this the times away do go; but first did with the hour I met her in tune, he marked the news over

glowing, longer touches. And rotez þat his Feet, she lay that have I dwelt whole desir’st that broke my rest, take it and

waters wash’d, where yet regret, Poore Child complaint—that you caused. Into a cumly closet with metez at hym syȝe; hit

semed. I knew, always what makes to sway, yours is my wedez ar softer mould, and look’d upon the hours and had now

comly, and irked, into a starry night. And mesh my destinés derf and dele no more? And made for þat ientyle

ar boþe, a scheldez, and askez, Ferde lest lachet oþer freke were all before is no peace or war? The heart, how ledes

and then I knew all along youth’s lament—for I am sick of the universe? And my disert nys euen, þat

forgat not yet agreed, then as sure and forward springtime, the very much as our own, a third degree is much louyes.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #174 texts #ballad sequence

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