VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 13:56:55 09/27/01 Thu
Author: Emerald Moon
Author Host/IP: 151.204.202.90
Subject: ªWatching, listeningª
In reply to: FOTA 's message, ".:Thoughts:." on 18:30:05 09/26/01 Wed

ªThe steed takes a blow, to his heart, to his mind, to his world, suddenly upsidedown, inside out. Not wanting to be judged? Understandable, a mutual feeling most always felt by all species, great and small. But...these words, ornate and intracate, glittered through the air like they were solid, had structure to them, and could not simply go in one ear and out the other. They were an art, a fine art only a precious few had the finesse((Ooh! I just used one of my spelling words!))to acknowlage.
And, yet, he was given the Gift of Seeing...Should he not use it as he was taught? Not use it as his people had for millenia, eons, even scince before the beginning of time?
And another puzzle, time was. A puzzle that never ended, that gave no answer but to the precous few that persue it. What was time? It, too, was like these passing words; but the words were not passing...They were still there, hanging as if by claws that could peirce and find holds in air itself, ringing bells more beautiful, more magestic, than any ever sounded in this world or the next.
He was good, sometimes, he knew. Often, he did not know what to think. Did he hate evils? And yet, this evil mare in front of him seemed not like all others. She was different, more open, than the ones he had known before; the ones in tales, who never liked day, never complimented on the night. Ones who talked like this mare, christened Fire of the Angels, only to a astoundingly small few, and those evils of the worst kind...
Questions to ponder, to speculate over, flooded his mind as the sea would flood the beach one day, but as if with mindful sandbags, the flood was held back for a short while whilst the bay spoke.ª FOTA, I am sorry. There are those who, in what was my homeland, taught of this, taught of the rules and regulations, taught of how to use the gift, when to use it. They told their students that all wanted to see what their souls looked like. They were, as you well know, wrong. And I apologize for my misunderstanding. What path you take, whether it be rocky and hard on your hooves or smooth and springy under you, I wish you luck and pray that I shall see you again, after we say our final partings.

((you are both wonderful writers! I'll try and get you the story I've been working on, should you wish to see it.))

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

Post a message:
This forum requires an account to post.
[ Create Account ]
[ Login ]
[ Contact Forum Admin ]

Forum timezone: GMT-8
VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
Before posting please read our privacy policy.
VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.