A man sat on the bench of a park, it was dark; about an hour or two past midnight, and clouds had hidden the moon and stars, save for a few rare patches in the sky were a few isolated stars shone with cold pinpoint light.
The grounds were empty. Completely deserted and still, as if untouchable by time.
Of course the ground were empty, it was freezing. Ice had glazed over the white snow which had fallen earlier. No grass was visible, the trees were stripped, vulnerable to the wind which whipped at their bark. You could hear them wail and cry as the wind rushed through the limbs of the trees.
On this cold wooden bench the man sat alone, he was crying.
Hot tears roll down his cheeks, they sting his eyes, they stain his face, they drip down his chin onto his lap.
Gloved fingers clutching pale blond hair.
His body heaves and shudders with his breathing.
He hunches over, cradling his head in his hands.
Why was he crying, he asked this to himself every time.
For nothing.
And absolutely everything.
Everything brought together and delivered in one upheaval of emotion. So many things at once that one single reason would not explain a fraction of it.
His lungs convulsed, and he choked as he struggled to take in air, unable to catch his breath.
It continued for a while.
It continued until he was subdued to nothing more than a few whimpers, as a few more burning tears crawled down his face, and his hands lay numbly in his lap.
His face was flushed, his eyes were drained to a dull shade.
He lifted the bottle from the ground next to him and took a few sips. He didn't have the energy to drink more, and dropped it into the crackling ice covered snow.
He turned himself to lay on his back, knees bent so he could fit on the bench. His face was towards the sky but his eyes were closed. The cold air froze against his slowly drying skin.
He was breathing.
My Dog, George, 2 years old, Collapsed on 20th december, he had to be put on a drip and the vet said his kidney failed, or some thing, he was able to walk to the kennel okay but a few hours later
His body started to fail and they had to put him down.
2 years old.
my other Dogue de bordeuax is still in like a depressed mood and the family is depressed and dull as hell. ;x;
It looks like you have another young fawn to teach the ways of the deer. Wandering for days without food or water I became exhausted. I passed out beside an old oak and awoke later on in a world of great peace. I found water and food but I have yet to find guidance into the life of the deer. Perhaps some of the elders would teach me or perhaps another fawn will offer me some friendship? Basics can be posted here if your eager to teach me on my birthday. I'll take anything on my birthday after an exhausting adventure through the wilderness.
Sorry guys *I know I never posted an official list so it does not matter really but I still feel bad*
Any Christmas gift art that I had planned to do for anyone will obviously be late so just consider them random gifts after this post I guess.
I still won’t be posting a list, but it’s a pretty safe bet that if you gifted me for Christmas you will get something in return, or simply if I just feel like drawing a certain character <3
work just didn’t allow me any free time to get much done 8\
Also im not being rude as much as I would love to do requests I just do not have the time ;;
[=10]
It was a rainy night, you know. I still remember looking out at the windowpanes and seeing great droplets of water committing suicide, ending their lives as they had been forced to do. I remember taking one moment as a photograph in my head and keeping it for a while, my reflection looking tired and impatient in the window. I recall the sky that night, black clouds billowing and draping upwards to the velveteen abyss that hung above the rest of the world and I, the pale moon a signal, a mournful warning. I knew it would not be long until my fate was decided.
What you must know about me and the others is that our world is just like yours. Exactly the same, in fact, but the main difference is that in our world, black magic runs amok, white magic is scarce to come by, and our royalty is rather old-fashioned and traditional...at least, it was back then. I believe there have been stories written before about this world - something about a man that worked in a theatre, two friends united then lost, never to remember eachother, nightmares...Part of a dream I had, you know - but in my world, people call my dreams prophecies.
My name is, appropriately, Prophet. I have been a poet all my life and I hope to continue that, with or without my prophetical abilities. But I must be silent about my current state, for a little while.
As I said, it was a rainy night when they came for me. The guards took me, one for each arm, and they half-led, half-dragged me down the stone-walled corridor. I wasn't struggling. I was just too tired to try and walk properly. Prison food is not pleasant and as far as I know it never has been, not here. I closed my eyes as they dragged me, and I tried to summon the poet inside me, the one that I had been known as - but he would not surface. I felt hollow. I felt cold, inside and out. I felt dead already. And I felt even more extinct as I eventually looked up into the stone-cold eyes of the king of our time.
