The First Two Stages of ManMy mother has commented on more than one occasion how I did not end up growing into the person she thought I would be. It has been many long and forgotten -- by me, at least -- years since I have played with dolls or dressed in lace. It was generally assumed, during the first stage of my life as defined by Shakespeare, that I would become a flirtatious and make-up-plastered teenager. I feel I have proven that assumption wrong.It seems as though the memories I hold of myself as a young child are of a completely different person. My interests and attitudes have changed over the years. As I have been introduced to new ideas and forms of entert
UntitledAmid fiery seas of discontentAnd torrents of painful gales,We come to a place in ourselvesThat is more self than we have ever known.The flesh is stripped away.Sans sinew, sans bone.All that is left is these two:Thought and Feeling.The past is not inconsequential,And neither is it wholly forgotten,For it has molded and formed usWith its ever-reaching handTo become the self that we are.I cannot know the reasonsBehind existenceAnd non-existence,And yet we live by the bending rulesOf this world, despite it all.Ghostly faces drift past.Some have faces, but not all.Some have names, but not all.Yet each is a
Wessley A man trudged down the narrow street, head bent against the pounding rain. His hand stole to his neck to feel the silver chain that hung there. His fingers idly stroked the silver ring that had been threaded through by the chain. He froze suddenly as he felt a knife between his shoulders. The point pierced cloak and shirt, but not skin. He cursed silently. I must not have heard him in the rain and thunder. He could feel breath directly behind his left ear. A woman's voice sounded quietly. "I was beginning to feel offended, as you had not yet come to see me, though you've been in town two days already." The man
Occurrence in the Woods "What the kahrin--" I bit off the end of my sentence as I felt a sudden force pushing me from behind which, in turn, caused me to bite my tongue as well. "Gah--" I spit out the blood that was already pooling in my mouth. "Elinore--" I heard a snort of laughter. And then a halt to the sound of pounding hooves I hadn't realized I had been hearing until it ceased. My head turned to the right and I saw the stranger on horseback staring back at me (so that explained the new pain in my back and tongue) and Elinore who watched me with an amused smirk. "So quick to blame me," she murmured, eyebrows raised eloquently.
Spike is the epitome of all that is cool!
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