} death be not proud -- Stone Ghost's Territory -

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Date Posted: 15:49:14 03/27/03 Thu
Author: siren
Author Host/IP: 216.195.24.82
Subject: } death be not proud

...After dark, after the mist has fallen, tenuous blanket...eerie blanket...Phantasm. Like none other, it moves, cutting through the sodden fog, let it lick and curl at weightless hooves, let it breath her frailties and make them strong again. Unearthly creature, your lucid skin in the moon-kissed stillness...your tranquility something morbid yet utterly...beautiful. See you gliding, on the night, a single glowing mystic against the inky milieu... where all the shadows hark thee not, you wisp of sinew, brawn and bone. Where all is smothered, captivated, your ethereal radiance. Macabre beast of folklaw, song, known he Phatnom, the Siren. In what cumulus did God fashion such a vagrant sphere of light, to haunt our midnight hours?

No past, no present, no future, a mind that cannot grasp such distinctions in time. Governed by the dawn, the dusk, it roved in random poetry...its entity being cast in light, it had no understanding, of it's situation. It was...in trance.

"...I am so close to my heaven..."

Silent tread, a mask of gossamor gracing soulful eyes....she pondors. Fluid are her movements, yet, not without some stiffened poise, as harried where her instincts, mustered, a beacon in a smog unseen.

Everything around absorbed, she saw it all in nocturnal pigment, she saw everything, the lonesome night. And within her she felt placid, the restful breath of an ever living zephyr, the calm of slumber, around her rigid lobe. Ah, all was well and sombre.

Frozen, it was the tips of a weathered tail that wavered, a quiver of whiskers, of lashes, of lips...surveying all that Nature had strewn before her, half contemplating, half in stuper. The fragmentary intelligence, of a creature born to walk, on the outside, of everything else. Hark it not for it will not hinder thee. Hark it not, for it has only affected her own thoughts and feelings...hark it not, for it wil only lead to question, questions she would not dare to answer. She was, in her own mind, dead of course. And what better place to hide then where another Ghost claimed to dwell. Smile plays u'on features, drifting.

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Replies:

§¤Watch out. Spooks are about¤§ -- Living Hell, 19:33:22 03/29/03 Sat
- } death be not proud -- siren, 15:21:50 04/03/03 Thu
  - ¤Hate me?Good.¤ -- Living Hell, 19:32:02 04/04/03 Fri