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Shrouded In Shadows
Shrouded In Shadows
Upon the cover, light and darkness, collide to form a elongated shadow that resembles the distorted shadow of a dagger, or what could be a tendril. At each corner, a dark outline of a hand extends out towards the center, as though to retrieve the shadowy figure at the center, the words "Shadows are that which has been forgotten" cutting across the front at a slant.
Tuesday, 01 March 2016
Whispers haunt my dreams, and nightmares are what I believe. But I have nothing to fear, for i have the shadows on my side. Well so I think. Yet there are somethings the shadows can not safe guard me from. I fear, there is something stocking me. It doesn't leave footprints behind, yet I hear its approach. Its silent feet airborne upon the wind, leaving no sound but the gentle rustle of leaves as he passes through the trees. At times, I believe I hear its cry. A howl low and sharp, as it chases me across the land. I can not see it, yet I feel it. Its presence emminates like the heat from a fire. It demands attention even when I try to ignore it. At times, it becomes biting cold, as it clutches me in its grip, ready to crush me beneath its vice like grip. It suffocates me at times, with a freezing embrace. Clutching frantically at my clothing and pulling at my hair fiercely. Then... it becomes calm, its momentary anger disipating and a warmth like no other, takes its place. Its unseen hand becomes as gentle and as graceful as autumn leaves. Slowly caressing my face. Sliding its hand through my hair, ruffling it in n almost loving manner. I am not fooled though, this thing that changes moods like Sunrifter is replaced by the moon, must be watched or at least not under estimated. For the shadows speak of it, and even they fear it. They whisper to me of its stocking. They speak of its power. It even controls the shadows themselves, and they no not how. It can make them dance, and it can make them become as still as rocks. This thing, beast or not, can control the shadows like a puppet master controls his puppets. It makes them grow, it makes them change shape, it can even make them thick or thin. It can do things i can not... so i fear it yet i respect it, just like the shadows, I don't speak and just obey.
Finnick Greystone posted @ 11:55 - Link - comments
Tuesday, 02 February 2016
Shadows are all that I know. Fear and the feeling of cold sweat across my brow, all but memories. For that dreadful day has for ever changed who I might of been. I have been broken to the point of being intangible, a shadow in the background of a world of scenery. In a way, I do not condemn the event, though if I could, I would make it different to the point where my Mother would still be here with me. However, maybe it was for the best, she wouldn't like what i have become anyway, so better this way, than watch her get heartbroken and perhaps get sick and die. Better to have had it quick, than the slow and painful grieving I no doubt would have given her, for all I am is a shadow. The shadows are my comfort, the realm I know. They are in everything I do. I have taken time to study them, to understand them. It has not been easy. For you see, the shadows don't like to relinquish the secrets they hold. Yet, they have allowed me to learn them, not all at once, but one by one. Along the way, I have learned skills that I Wouldn't have otherwise. The shadows are my friends, and they are my shelter. They are the meaning behind everything I do, they are my definition, and NO ONE will make me relinquish the secrets they have bestowed in me!
Finnick Greystone posted @ 11:47 - Link - comments
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