A Cold Dark Night
The night is cool and dark, for there is no Moon. Her face is obscured by clouds, and dry autumn leaves swirl about in the frequent evening breeze. The smell of wood-smoke, along with another, subtle and pungent, --but not unpleasant-- aroma perfumes the air. The long, mournful howl of a wolf dances upon the night Winds.

In a clearing, a grey-cloaked Traveler--his bulk conspicuous even 'neath the grey wool-- huddles closer to his fire. Only his chin and mouth are visible from the depths of his grey hood, as he looks to the sky and takes a deep pull from a long-stemmed tavern-pipe. He exhales a bluish plume of smoke toward the fire.

"Ahh..Hallo's Eve approaches. When the Dead once more find their Voice. When the Wheel turns anew..I've a feelin' many will speak this Turn. Many who never got to say goodbye.. Many who went to work one day, and never came Home. Whose families still wait by the door for them. Whose last memories are of screaming concrete, twisted metal, and a searing ball of flame. May they and theirs find peace amidst this madness. I will listen. I will do my best to help those Spirits find peace, and guide them Home. To Tir Na Nog fly lost and wandering Spirits. I will build a fire for thee. I will keep watch."

The Traveler takes another long pull from his pipe, and stares silently into the fire.

The Hum of the Refrigerator
I hear mine breaking in the refrigerator's hum
I see my heart evaporating in the morning sun
Eternal battles, never won
Like that endless refrigerator's hum..

Heh..well ok that's kinda wierd..well..as I said before..Welcome to my World. A place to lay my bizzare thoughts open. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

There's this guy at my school. He sits at one of the cafeteria tables and paints miniatures. All sorts of bizarre conversations take place around him. All sorts of strange comments...some inadvertant, some not. He just sits there and paints. Occasionally, he snickers, but says nary a word.


I think it would be fun to play in there. I think he's got a lot to say.

I want to get inside his head.

~tap dances his way offstage and into bed~

The Wind was a torrent of darkness...
There is fire
There is heat
but there is a coldness
that knows no defeat.

There is an emptiness
that once knew relief
and a darkness
That once had seen light

A heart that once took flight..


Gods..isn't THAT depressing...jeez...

(no subject)
Greetings! For anyone who might actually take the time to read this. Well I guess this is just what it says..a Live Journal. A place to post odd thoughts. A creative vent. I like it!
~grins~ is this where I say welcome to my world?

A night framed by a crescent moon
A bright silver crescent moon hung over the woodland. Dry autumn leaves crinkled and crunched across the barely discernable forest path. Over a ridge, strides a grey-cloaked traveler. His woolen cloak billowing about him in the brisk night breeze.

The Traveler pauses and leans on a chest-high oaken staff, then takes a look around.

Aye...this be a good place to set up camp..A warm fire t' tell tales at..What more could a Storyteller want? Long road tho', methinks I need a rest first.


Log in

No account? Create an account