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...I wish time stood still. In the moments you loved most. I wish you could feel the memory come back to you as you stand in the same place, read the same words... I wish you could bring yourself back to innocence and wonder. I wish my excitement would renew itself for places I once loved most...

I wish ideas I had given people would never die. I wish memories were stone, never to be taken up in a strong wind in time, to be washed away. I wish people would not hurt eachother.... I hope one day 'my motivation' to make a point, will diminish and die like a cold ember in what once was a roaring fire, to which only the memory remains.

I will pray. I will hope.
Things that once brought me joy, are now faded.
I wish I enjoyed what I enjoyed most-- more.
It's gone now...
Help me remember...
It seems everyone has so many hateful feelings towards others, for no reason at all-- I don't want to be a part of it, but I am. Help me remember what it was like to wonder, and find. I have dug up all treasures, I feel like a lingering dead leaf on a cold branch... all others have moved on.

Help me remember what it was like to not judge someone one what they've said, and assume it was only for attention even when it was not. Help me remember what it was like to roam free as a human-faced creature full of wonder and awe. Help me remember what it was like, to not think I was a stereotypical oldie.

Who can I blame?
Should I point fingers? Surely so! .... deep inside I know it is only me who has become numb. Unwilling to change for a community that has outgrown a member. A community who is focused on the spotlight... if it is so, then let me diminish.

Help me remember how creativity was not shunned, or something to be ashamed of. Help me remember what a family is. I want to help...

I felt like I needed to fight, to defend... I promised I'd never leave... but deep inside it feels like spring, and cleaning needs to be done.

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[=#ff2c59][i] .... I have been called back.

What is this... tugging? Pulling? Demanding of my presence?
Y-You have done the unspeakable...
Your presence, the sight of you, everything about you, cursed and broken.
M-My, god.
Fear is stabbed back into my soul, into every opaque thread that binds my spirit here. The veil of mouning is my body. And h-here it is, you wear me.
The ever coldness of my un-moving bones, my shallow grave washed away and the poppies mourn no more for I am not there. A demon has plucked my remains up from the ground and is wearing them now.
Oh t-the torture of the remorse that has not abandoned y-you... the remorse which possess you. And I, your posession...Obsession.
N-no...N-no, you can not let me be. You can not let me rest.

W-What is this?
These strings that bind me to you?
...The control.
Of that which I am denied.
What is it now that I can d-do against you my Dark demon?
W-What is it now, that you do not have power over me?

P-Please...
Is, there no escape....?

I have touched nothing, and you have harnessed that which I could not. M-My body. Something dear to me, that belonged to me! .... I-I.... Am I merely something of yours?....

That pain which you have caused me in life has risen again in death.
I-I can not escape your p-pain...
A hoof upon my broken body, a gaze upon my delicate form...
A wanting that drives you to do this... again...
Send me not away.
Y-Your hate, my fear-- it r-returns..

It returns.

Terrible Weeping Shadow! Your mind is corrupt and twisted. You have been born into hatred and so you shall be.

I have no fear, for the fear I had in life poured out of me.
Look at me, never to feel the warmth of the sun, nor the chills of the night's face.
Never to fear you... again.

A child, able to be any and everything around her.
A fawn, with the dripping poppies upon her head in mourning.
A doe, now, I can be. Oh tell me-- never I will leave....
For the mother I never had, in her image, a ghost I was destined to be.
Destined to be.
How can I hate thee? You... who made me.
Look at me, a horrid, tired.... dead.... creature.

Because my hooves were not quick enough.
My legs were not long enough.
My calls were not loud enough...

But now... look at me. A doe at will and a fawn when wanted. Ever translucent, ever horrid... ever cold. I can run from you now, my strange Demon.
I can run from you now...

Words better left unspoken.
Flee from me, far from me! Fear me, and hate me and I shall be no more!
Oh sweet sand of eternity, I will run to you...
Please...

Ages it has been and the gods have owed me this. Tell me.
Tell me there's an escape, from this.
Fool! ... A ghost and a fool....
Eternity, do I want thee?
Ever to be cradled in the darkness of forever?
Free from He.

...No...

Tell me...
There's no escape.

Saosin's player has reminded me of this old bandwagon, and I wanted to bring it up again, once more seeing as we have a lot of newer players. This is totally voluntary and don't feel put upon to follow if you don't want to!

Autoplay Music Warning!

Deer of the Forest.

I have found something the forest is not meant to know.

Is not meant to have....

I fear the wrath of our Gods should I reveal this secret to you.

Pages upon pages of a dialect resembling the names we carry.

A Lost Language, a Wirtten Word of the Forest...

I will speak the words.

[ A dialect left un spoken in thousands of years rolls off her tongue. Once spoken by the First Deer of the Forest, the knowledge of the Language resides within the mind of every deer. An uncanny ability to translate the words. You listen carefully to the voice narrating which has replaced Mystress'. A human voice. The First Ancestors of the Human-less Forest, you now dwell in. Chills run up your spine as you hear the last words ever written. They somehow know you, and you, know them. ]

Your mind is unwilling to become seperate from your soul.
Your deeds darken my heart, and my chains to you, forever follow me.

I am all you have ever had, I, the ghost.
Your creation of madness.

You wander aimlessly through shrouds and veils of self persecution and loathing and look to me to help heal your twisted soul. I-- only another shroud-- ghost, of your hate.
A shadow of a memory, who brings no peace to herself or those whose eyes fall upon her opaque, fragile figure.
So fragile.

What choices are before me? I can not escape your summonings, you refuse to forget me, and let my spirit rest. My dear Weeping Beast. I know not how to help you.

Is it just, us again?
Us and the rain, and the poppies underfoot?
And the memories.....

Forget me not.
Forget me--

Perhaps your strength has blinded me of any escape.
Please...

Just tell me...
Tell me....
For I am here.

It's raining again Death.

The hollow, dry, unfeeling rain. It falls though me and shatters my heart, brings me back to you... Why, you will not let go of me. I am unable to rest, your hate, twisted wanting and love chains me here. The poppies weep, and their blood lends no comfort to the ground. And so my presence, you claim will help you, for the poppies lend no comfort to those whose tears fall upon their petals in rememberance of the dark past.

Even blood drys.
Even hate subsides.
Even love, lingers.
Ever my forgiveness, dwells.

Oh, will you not, set me free?

Death is crying...... for me?
Weeping death, Crying Death, my maker. Towering sorrow, is your name. Lingering darkness. Thundering hooves. I will put poppies on thy grave.

Listen to my voice, listen to me.
I am here, I am here.

(Death warning, this explains a bit about Skinner's story, on Bones' part. Skinner is not my character.)

The brick streets of London clacked under my boots. I, dressed completely in black did not exactly stand out in the crowd, each and every one, mothers and fathers of whores or those who wanted some entertainment. I saw Steven's red face among the crowd. The wind whipped across the ground, catching powdery snow as it went. Gray was the sky, and cold was the day when the noose was fitted around the Captain's head. A bag covered her face-- filled with sorrow not so much for her own death but for capital punishment by the hands of those she hated most. The government.


The wooden handle was smooth on my gloved hand. My face hidden beneath a black shroud, it took me a moment to pull the sweet trigger. The hot, round bullet melted falling snow in mid air. A bubble of people clearing away from me, I lingered enough to see.... the scarlet, dripping circle that showed me my aim was true, and that the life of Captain Skinner, had come to an end. Within my soul I screamed hate, sorrow and all ungodly things into the cold air, but I was silent and stiff. The crowd gasped, screamed and then cheered as the lifeless body of Skinner dropped to the length of the rope and dangled there unmoving and silent.

I slipped out of sight, weaving my way through the medium sized-crowd a moment before it was too late to consider escape at the hands of the authorities.

Hey guys,

Need a little help with cutting out three images, and overlapping them to make a decent wallpaper.
If anyone can help me with this, I would be very grateful.

The three images are these:

Ghost of Christmas Past

Ghost of Christmas Present

Ghost of Christmas Future

In order from left to right. I would like these images cut out and re-sized so they are equal in height. Christmas Present may be a little short. I would like them slightly over-lapping eachother, and a dark/misty background. If it's possible to make it around standard wall-paper size that would help a great deal.

If you cut them all off at the knees, you can make them a bit opaque in shade, like they're actually spirits.

If it comes out to my satisfaction, I can give you $8 in Paypal, as a reward.

Thanks!