Geppetto SorrowGeppetto lay quietly on his bed, snuggle up under the covers. However the night did not pass like every night before hand, where he stayed cold, lonely, and had a bitterly painful ach in his heart. Now lying beside him was his son.More Like This
"My son," he breathed to himself as he stroked the boy's hair affectionately. Those words took some time to get use too, for he had never used them.
Oh how Geppetto longed for a child and now he had one! That dream he had for so long, longer than he could ever recall, had all come true in just one night. He had just finished his puppet , he wished upon the wishing star and POOF he had a son to call his own.
But it never started out that way. In fact Geppetto life before had been filled , not of warmth, but of sadness and horrific pain. Recall the memory of his sweet Rose made Geppetto grovel in despair for his lost love.
She was fine and healthy , all up to the day of her accident. That is where the grief settled upon Geppetto life.
Rose had been the girl of
Hit the brakes!!!It's been an interesting 3 days because I might changing career paths that will be better for me because I'll possibly be making a lot more money, but on the down side drawing and photography will cease till the winter.More Like This
I hope to know by Friday if I'll have a new job waiting...
Tied up at the officeMore Like This
It was Tuesday. Tuesday was a lot of things in the lair of B. For Donna it was, well mostly another day at the office. An office where she also just happened to live.
For Donna Muffletine, secretary extraordinaire. What was more important then the fact it was Tuesday was which date and what time, exactly, you were talking about. Punctuality, neatness and facts were her bread and butter. Traits certainly appreciated by Tarja, the resident grouch. Or, perhaps not so much the grouch as the anchor that kept a boat full of crazies from shooting off into space. It really depended on how you looked at it.
To Donna a Tuesday was a list of appointments, schedules and phone call. Or rather e-mails, as Donna tended to have a habit of wearing ball gags during work hours, making actual conversations a series of mumbles and the other party looking confused. Coupled with the eerie feeling that whatever Donna just said, was probably right.
Then there where Meetings. Sometimes a meeting was simpl