Between Heaven and HellEveryone has a story to tellMore Like This
The time and place the falls from grace.
We all walk at our own pace
forever attempting to win the illusionary race.
So I took the time, to sit and rewind....
granted pause to the cause, reflections of the mind.
Years upon years slowly drifted on by...
Journeys left behind slumbering alongside the road of unknown,
collecting dirt and debris, anxiously awaiting to be set free,
but could not flee...no one to save me and turn the key.
Everything has a time and a place within the enchanted space.
A story to tell of heaven and hell...
Realise this upon states of bliss,
In the beginning we all fell--in the end we all shall fall.
Can no longer ignore the ancient call.
PromiseThere was a boy once. He was lonely in his world, having no friends except a lonely tree he used to sit under during the day. Days were passing by and the boy grew weary of solitude. "I don't want to be alone..." he whispered and went home. During the night, he packed food and other supplies into a bag, taking special care to take his precious crescent hairpin with him. Off he went, through the deep forest.More Like This
While he was wandering in the forest, he saw a boy hunting. Just as he was about to call out to him, the boy shot an arrow into the far away bushes. After a quiet *thud*, a sound of a dying deer could be heard in the air. Swiftly, the Hunter jumped toward his pray, silencing it. That is when he noticed the Boy, staring at him in marvel. The Boy asked the Hunter if he can join him on his journey. Together they went, the Hunter teaching the Boy how to shoot a bow, while the Boy was teaching the Hunter how to become one with the forest - gather edible plants, tracking animals, listenin
Dorian Gray SyndromeIsn't it strange, how I used to hate your hidden canvas face? To me your perfect skin hid a demon, a demon covered in pustules, your eyes were nothing more than a portal to a rotting soul. Your words were nothing but trapped and recycled verse, spoken only to lure innocent maidens into your coveted dark lair of love. Of love and broken hearts, I used to picture you feasting upon them before leaving those girls, abandoned, in the desert to rot. To become the faeces of vultures and other scavenging creatures...More Like This
So, isn't it strange how I let you drag me down into that den of despair? Then again, what is life but a count of three? A lost stare in a crowded street? A forgotten love song played on the radio? Why do I take in your dusty words?
Ah, but why do I ask questions? I need not ask, for I trust you implicitly. Thank you, for you have warped my mind and framed it. Perhaps you've placed it next
Roused 027 Feeding- RousedMore Like This
- Chapter 027
~ Feeding -
Only two men remained of the team of ten Prince Phillip had sent to search the north side of the Forbidden Mountain for what back door the goons were using to attack the villages.
It had been remarkably easy to find. The trampled plants and footprints were plainly seen. They started up the trail confident. Unfortunately for them, they were caught between a group of goons coming down and another returning with horses, pigs, birds and more.
They were captured and the rest, fortunately for them, killed.
The men were taken to the Forbidden Mountain to the vile chamber of the goon-queen; a connection to the underworld. A bypass around the rules.
If Maleficent needed a goon; all she need do was feed the queen and the goon-queen would breed out another goon after a while. She didn't need all that many goons; the goon-queen would breed as long as she was fed.
Her biggest issue was to keep the goons from feeding her. The goon-queen always called for more food,
Rozowy kolor ZSRRu: V, prawie koniecDom wysoki na cztery kondygnacje, z czerwonej cegły, okryty stromym dachem. Balkony z balustradami, które chyba miały być finezyjne, okna w drewnianej ramie (o dziwo bez krat!). Ciężkie, dębowe drzwi. Wygląda raczej na zapuszczony internat niż dom mieszkalny dla wspaniałej, ZSRRowskiej rodziny. Nawet huśtawka na podwórku ma wyryte inicjały (I.B.+R.G.=<3). Dookoła gęsty las, trochę jak w horrorze. Przebywanie tu nocą nie jest raczej zbyt ciekawym pomysłem. Jeszcze jakiś dziwny ruski cię przyuważy, albo, nie to żeby jakiś był, drzewny ekshibicjonista...More Like This
Ten dom właśnie stał w płomieniach.
Rosja. Białoruś. Ukraina. Polska. Litwa. Prusy. Węgry.
Stali przed domem robiąc przysłowiowego karpia.
- Mój domek... Mój kochany domek...
Rosja przedstawiał obraz nędzy i rozpaczy. Nawet Liz zrobiło się go &