My dog was hit by a truck today. Before you ask, no. He didn't make it. I ran out to see him and he was dead on the street. It was messy, bloody. We wrapped him in towels and our friend who works for the vet took him to be cremated. His ashes will be spread at the lake, at the place we used to love to go.

The man who did it was very apologetic, he feels very bad about it I know. This is my baby. My most precious baby. My life was this dog.

The best thing about all of this is that I wrote a poem and it's nice. That's all.

In loving memory.

2009 - 2010, Draco.

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I have nothing to learn from you child.
You act as if to keep me company yet any attempts to make contact end in mockery.
You mimic my confused gestures to the tee.
As if you might learn from the naive.

[=10](For maximum effect, please play music before beginning)

I haven't seen a soul dressed like this since I was born. Why is that skull thing such a big fad? Why isn't it this big tribal mask, the one that stands up and yells, Look at me?

The forest, being where it was, had already grown warm with the promise of summer. The cicadas once more took their place in the long grass, quite a few already launching into their droning hum. A black-and-white doe lay on the muddier terrain, breathing deeply in sleep over the rippling water of the river. The area was quiet, and peaceful. Until, however, a stag’s deep belling echoed over the expanse, and her ears pricked, followed by her neck craning upward to look about.

It’s so hot.



She shook her head to clear it, sending feathers shaking wildly, and hauled herself to her feet with difficulty. The sun beamed down on her ash-toned back, spotting it in light and radiating warmth throughout her body. The doe smiled under her mask. These were the glory days of the forest – while some wished desperately for weather changes, that brought variety and so-called ‘enjoyment’, it was when the temperature was that of a fire’s glow that she found herself most content.

But then there was the matter of her fur. Caked in dried mud and quite disagreeable. The creek was too narrow here to wade in – testing her leg shortly and finding it mostly fine, the long-legged hind took off at a canter, taking her time to feel the breeze wind over her skin.

The water’ll be cold.

Slowing within a short time, she snorted appreciatively as the crystal blue of the Pond came into view behind the willow trees.

These words that I write
Are from my heart
Allowing you to see the unchained melody it beats
And the honesty it brings
There are no walls or boundaries
That I must break
For this I write freely and unchained
Expressing how I feel
Unafraid of my emotons
But instead embracing them
With arms wide open
Letting this melody flow freely
From my fingers
Into words
That turn into poetry
And into a melody that will forever be unchained.

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I sit in this patch of flowers I found in that time, the butterflies clinging to my sides, examining their reflections in my eyes. I had a neighbor, sitting in a nearby patch of flowers. Sometimes, I'd glance at him. He got up and listened as I did, searching for something familiar, something that wasn't there. I'm not even sure what I was thinking about -- the falling of a leaf, the motions of my neighbor -- but my heart kept moving towards the great mass of deer that I'm missing, and they're so close. I wonder if they think about me in simmilar terms, wondering if I miss them -- or if I'm just thinking one-sidedly, feeling the distance less as emotional distance as mischance, as a series of little holes in the pattern of my days.

After a while, I was joined by Ravyn. She'd come close and dart away, sit with me and then join friends. I followed her, once, to one of the smaller groups she dashed to, but after a little she returned and waited for me at the flower patch. I think she knew I was feeling kind of lonely, but didn't understand that I didn't mind it -- much. I'm sorry if I concerned her, actually: she seemed very concerned. But... I'm glad she did.

I collapsed for a bit, and awoke, and accidentally fell into the river before returning to the flower patch. I seemed to have a hard time staying concious, though, because I again found my vision darkening, and then clearing where I stood on the riverbank, not far from my home. I returned there, and found a Saosin-fawn. I couldn't help but laugh, which I think hurt his pride. He ran off, heading who knows where. I seem to have very little luck being on friendly terms with him. I wouldn't say I dislike him, though -- but he's shown some distaste for me, I think for reasons that were more relational than personal, in the past. He's not hostile more often than he is, so I can't think ill of him. But when he dashed off, I was not surprised. Ravyn settled back in with me.

I've been having difficulties with this site not opening, I think we fixed that. Il be on here more often, and yes I read your comments Kita. As for Ravynn : My real name is Gin , and if you look at my profile my deer's name is actually Gen , just pronounced as Gin. I simply put on my name as my stag's. Thats all. And no, you didnt sound rude.

((read more for image and short bit of writing))

[=9]If you know my writings well, you may notice a slight change in style. I was inspired by "An Occurance at Owl Creek Bridge" and attempted my own interpretation of realistic literature. I hope you enjoy it, this is one my few slightly silly stories. I also played heavily with words in here, especially with alliteration.




The first hungry thunder bellow of the year. A vivid blue ear flicked in retaliation, and the stump of the other remained in woeful slumber. In a larger aspect, there was a gradual awakening of feather, characterized with periodic yawns and groans. She drug her long limble limbs beneath her form. In sharp contrast to the event of gaining conciousness, the sky howled at her to rise. She complied with a skittering, tinkering tangle of limb that quickly found her standing startled in the soil.

On her rise, the sky rejoiced. Snow-laden eyes observed this plainly; little figures of lighting cavorting across the night and tossing happy sparks in celebration. However, the moment they ceased thier romping, the black beast of cloud thundered commands that the celebration continued. It made her lethargic lapse of thought cease its waves for a moment to bring about a suggestion of uselessness. Perhaps the sky didn't need her after all. But one could not be down watching the lighting dance daintly in the late winter sky.

Something stirred beside her, but did not rise. The lump of careless flesh hauled itself over onto its side to peer curiously into her wide-eyed visage. He stared solemnly; an amber concocture of weariness and concern. She broke the silence by purposely letting her color drained eyes search into his soul. Darcy looked uncomfortable under her stare, but she blamed him not. Her eyes, as previously noted, had lost every tinge of color and blazed an angry white. Vision hindered not but mind rendered hollow.

If you were to comment on how I'm really not active enough here to be setting one of these up, I'd totally agree. A handful of deer no one's aware of really doesn't warrant a Q&A, but...

...humor me, won't you?

My fluency, or lack thereof, has been brought to my attention far too many times. What can I say? I over analyze. As with everything else I do, I'd like to change this. Improve it. That's where I'd like you to come in. Ask me a question, any question, and I'll answer it...hopefully without too much thought. As most here don't know me well, I'm obligated to mention that you do not have to be specific. Ask me about my deer in general if you don't know their names. Hell, ask about me in general if you can't read my name.
I just need some fodder for thought, you know?

Have one for Chopin, decided to make one for Vilin'

Don't shorten my name, it's disrespectful.

Be quiet Vilinius.