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 The Spirit's Tomb, writings by SilentxMidnight
Bubbles
Posted: Feb 20 2010, 06:47 PM


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Welcome to your little piece of cyberspace, SilentxMidnight. If I can help in any way, let me know!

(Posted Image)
SilentxMidnight
Posted: Feb 20 2010, 08:40 PM


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Chuckling, the spirit appeared, mist seeping through the doors and walls. She looked around. "A bit to modern" she mummered to herself. "Not a problem, I can change that." she smiled and took a seat on a plastic chair for the time being, looking around at the far to clean area. Too new. "Thank you dearest Bubble's. I shall be sure to post frequently, and any whom wish to post with me please do! To post alone is a lonely thing for what knowledge is there then?"
SilentxMidnight
Posted: Feb 20 2010, 08:50 PM


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"Shall I start this area's transformation from new to old with a poem perhaps? Do tell me what you think." The spirit began looking through her parchment for the piece she had in mind but then paused just as her fingers fell on it. "Dearest Bubbles, perhaps you can help me in the finding of a photo for this, eh?" she asked with a smile, placing the parchment on the ground where it began to wither with age, just as the parchment was.

Parchment:

On Turning Invisible

She doesn't need me anymore
the shadow that I am is withering
it's like the willow branches
turning me into vines
all the games we use to play
all that fun;
all a secret lifestyle

her parents always hated me
scolding her with yells to get rid of me
after that she'd come to me; wicked grin and all
and then we'd play hang man
over and over again I'd die
my neck still hurts; I still have rope burns
she''d let me go before i turned purple
then she'd take the cover off her head
releasing herself from form of executioner;
giggling freely
my murderous princess.

You could say i love her;
if love is not just lust but also fear
she is the shadow behind the door,
the eyes that watch in wonder
she is the creature on the wall
seeing all the fly sees, the secrets
she's coming to get you

But lately I've been fading;
No; she is fading from me as she grows
new things to play with
the cat, the dog
maybe she wont forget me though.
As I sit in her chair, forgotten.
Because when she steals the stool
from under them
the air seeps quick
no fight; no game
they don't star breathing again;
Like me


(Posted Image)
Bubbles
Posted: Feb 20 2010, 09:37 PM


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not sure if you like this ...

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SilentxMidnight
Posted: Feb 20 2010, 10:05 PM


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Looking it over, the spirit smiled. "It is a wonderful photo, thank you. It fits well." she said with a smile.
Bubbles
Posted: Feb 21 2010, 02:08 PM


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Hey! I hope you have a GREAT Sunday!

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SilentxMidnight
Posted: Feb 28 2010, 08:38 AM


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Repost from elsewhere:

Sitting in a dusty corner, upon an old stool whose cushion is worn and moth eaten, is the spirit. Her figure is nearly transparent, her ghastly body curled upon itself over a worn, crumbling piece of parchment. A quill runs over it in quick flicks of her wrists, seemingly moving on its own to the untrained eye. the stone ceiling drips sand, the bobbles decaying in age. she looks up, watching the sand.

"Drip, drip you soulless wonders who steal my time, my practice. come to me in my peace and stone away ideas, thoughts of visions sake. kill such things and take from me their lustful cord." says the spirit to the sand, which in reply continues to drop, each bead hitting on in rhythm. to the mad brain, they start to sound of laughter.

The spirit stood, placing the parchment down, and walks to the sand, her form spreading against the floor in a clouding mist. She hols out her hand, the skin flickering as sand builds on the fingers and then seeps through them.

"Cursed beads. You've stolen my ideal, and my quiet. The benefit of silence, of new ideals, and of new home for a time. A new place to learn from. And, perhaps, some where with others as I am to speak with to read with and to edit with as writers do. I must find such a place."


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Northwarden
Posted: Mar 1 2010, 01:20 PM


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Just a little tomb? How Stingy. Here is a whole house you can haunt if you wish. It's a fixer upper, but you can handle it.
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Northwarden
Posted: Mar 1 2010, 02:19 PM


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QUOTE (SilentxMidnight @ Feb 28 2010, 06:38 AM)
Repost from elsewhere:

Sitting in a dusty corner, upon an old stool whose cushion is worn and moth eaten, is the spirit. Her figure is nearly transparent, her ghastly body curled upon itself over a worn, crumbling piece of parchment. A quill runs over it in quick flicks of her wrists, seemingly moving on its own to the untrained eye. the stone ceiling drips sand, the bobbles decaying in age. she looks up, watching the sand.

"Drip, drip you soulless wonders who steal my time, my practice. come to me in my peace and stone away ideas, thoughts of visions sake. kill such things and take from me their lustful cord." says the spirit to the sand, which in reply continues to drop, each bead hitting on in rhythm. to the mad brain, they start to sound of laughter.

The spirit stood, placing the parchment down, and walks to the sand, her form spreading against the floor in a clouding mist. She hols out her hand, the skin flickering as sand builds on the fingers and then seeps through them.

"Cursed beads. You've stolen my ideal, and my quiet. The benefit of silence, of new ideals, and of new home for a time. A new place to learn from. And, perhaps, some where with others as I am to speak with to read with and to edit with as writers do. I must find such a place."


(Posted Image)

Nice Picture
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