Yet again it was a dream I have previously had...I was once sat somewhere. No where I'd remembered but somewhere that seem familiar to me. I looked different like what I wanted to look like;
-Slimmer but shaped.
-My eyes didn't change though, which I found weird.
-My hair was longer, Straight.
and the colour of my hair had changed rather than my millions of colours that are still buried in my hair from previous dying and covered by brown at the moment but it was blue. Bright, nice blue with a few steaks of blonde in random area's. Everything was black and white except me, I was in colour? It was dark but only a shadowed dark and I was able to see clearly; Tree's grew by them self on the ground but where they were close together tangled into one leafed roof converting a path way to cave. I stared, still sat down and just looked around. A gust of sudden wind made all the tangled cave like leaves twist and flutter away leaving a open hole where the white light of sun shone through. It shone on me and next thing I knew my mind felt like it was leaving my head and falling as I started to wake up.

I see the tree's,
I see the fire,
I see them clash.
The light reflects onto the moon.
Big, blue, bright, known to be cheese moon.
This then reflects on the sun,
The sun shines, brighter than before;
Except only the sharpest eyes can see.
Then the sun will be so hot as always in mid day.
Cause a fire and then...
I see the tree's,
I see the fire,
I see them clash.

One winters morning; No. That's to silly for an introduction of a story. Fine, I'll just change the genre:

The time unknown but known it's morning,
Meaning the day will soon be dawning.
Crisp cracks of ice like shatterd glass,
The warriors of Winter; a metophoric class.
The moisture from my nose goes, frozen by the stinging air,
Not exactly soft, gentle nor sensitive care.
Leaves whisk all around,
The hitting leaves had a russeling sound.
Winter is here,
A chilly time even for deer.
This poem may not appeal,
I am doing this for a festive forest feel.
My cold little nose,
My streched out toes.
Ears lifted and eyes are bright,
This will elongate my height.
See this branch here? I will nuzzle it, to make the snow fall,
Then there it was a bellowed call.
One I have never heard before,
So strange and exciting with shivers, galore.
This sound isn't known,
A tightly wrapped box was then thrown.
My investigated nose gave a tap,
The flowers burst looked like an arranged map.
This was a present, that was for sure,
I had never done this before.
Back to the rhyme? I think so,
This is my attempted go.
Snow near my feet and trotting along,
Be gone old sing-a-longs.
The deers gathered; The community,
Enjoy this festive opitunity <3

~I done one better than this earlier however when I went to post it. It didn't work and I lost it D:
But enjoy! c:

Have you ever thought that you think a name is pretty and unique but then you find out it is a name and has a meaning? I thought Bree~ was a lovley name. Until I found out it was a cheese :') lawl.

You know, that title sounds alot more voilent than I thought it would...
Well I enjoy writting and recently since I joined this I have ran out of idea's and just kind of babble on about random things. I have been told I should write more. Any ideas what I could write about? I've done:
~ Eras /Me/
~ Human sightings /Bree/
~ Story for remeberance of my Grandmother /Bree/
~ Tree of human birth /Bree/
~ Feeling of someone's there /Bree/
~ Stalking /Bree/
~ Let down from Friends /Bree&Rhomnia/
I'd like to do something like insanley creative? But recently, I've had alot on my mind and well my brain has methophorically speaking died :')
Thankssss
<3

People say that the Victorian Era it was black and white or golden brown. But was it? I wish I was immortal. Living an endless life, just like Bree and Rhomnia's friendly community forest. Theres a list I would if I was immortal but from a young age and maybe born about 10 years earlier...
I would ~Beginning of list:
- Support all my family and see them before they left when I was young.
- Adventured through forests, hoping to find a new, free, natural flowing lake.
- And damn many other things.
Being immortal would mean living through lots and lots of different sessions of fashion, love, era's and people. Like Jesus and his sandals. Tudor/Victorian times; Never show your real flesh. 1960's; Not different? You're mental. 1970's; Disco. 1980's; Punk. 1990's; Hippy, peace and all that jazz \/ . 2000-2010; Piercing holes in your skin and the natural distroyers, Machine. 2011; Meeeh we're just getting there But honestly, we have all progressed. For me I and other people have missed many unique, mass murdering eras. Luckly I missed the punk years so I wasn't there to be embarassed by back combing my baby hair even though the tight ringlets i used to have naturally would be pretty hard to back comb :') /They grew straighter after a few years by the way./ Unfortunetly my auntie was there, when I was born. First to hold me, Change me, See me, Talk to me, Weigh me, Check me /She can't have a child/ when I was born, I was the first girl born in the 'peace' era. But obviously thinking about peace makes you think of the hidious historic times and how we have 'evolved and changed.' My aunty, took it one step further. She couldn't just THINK about historic peace etc oh no, she had to take me, Not my brothers, me to a photographer with my natural tight blonde ringlets and blue eyes and dress me up as a victorian child. I had a dark green dress with a white bow on the side of my hip, knee height.

I draw Rhomnia which you saw and i was pretty happy with it and we both tried to draw Bree and she is a difficult one. just wondering if you have finished drawing her ~seeing as i fail so badly at drawing her but i can draw Rhomnia fine...~ AND I am thinking about getting the 'tablet' thing for my birthday even though it's a long time away, AH WELL c:

Theres a particular reason i am writting this, no other reason than my Grand Mother has terminal cancer. I am not looking for sympathy but just to write a reminder of her before she leaves as a diary entry by Bree.
Just like all of my stories start; It was a normal day with mottled patterns from the faint sun on the floor blah blah blah. Since i was very little i have always known the story of 'Little red riding hood and the big bad wolf' in this occation I am little red riding hood, Grand mother is nan and The big bad wolf is nothing other than the terminal cancer cells, stealing my grand mothers life from inside; Like the elegant little germ it is.
I left my shelterd tree shack and trotted along the forest, as said before. Everything yet again seemed normal, as said before. I kept trotting and trotting until i reach Grand Mother Pammy's house. She was known for her kindness and baking that she done regulary as she has nothing else to do except socialise. I walk in tapping my antlers on every tree trunk i accidenly hit, which is most of them c:
The whole feeling in the wooden shack was strange, the smell of death and heated bodies hung around like a constant wind only surrounding the close trees making a home for my Grand Mother.
I saw her not moving and just lieing there. Thank god my parent's weren't there it would of killed them inside. We all knew there was something wrong with Grand Mother Pammy her waist seemed to of drastically widened and her face became pale and was prone to many viruses and dieseases around. I never thought one could kill a deer though. I stood there in less shock rather more frightened how i would kept living without my Grand Mother; She was well known and always said she was alone when she was friends with every one, It was just and excuse for me to come and visit you see.

A song is a howl. A howl is a cry. A cry is a feeling. A feeling is a Emotion. A emotion is also a thought. A thought is a dream. A dream is a fantasy. A fantasy can be real life. A real life is a identity of the brain, living your life how it should xD
<3

Dear diary,
I have always treasured the name 'Indie.'This is your name. Not for any other reason except that i admire that fact you listen to me and read what i write, you are the connection of my thoughts said through a pen, the pen may change but you stay the same. Giving you a name exspresses my appreciation of you always having what i wrote still there after hours, days, months even years.
Today i saw something abnormal, Theres no way of describing what i saw cleary so i will try and if it doesn't make sense... I tried. Here it goes:
It had two legs. Two arms. Two hands. Two feet. Two elbows. Two wrists but only one head. It didn't trot as such but stamped, strangly it looked like it was normal for it to walk in such a way. Although around here ~The forest~ it seemed not very elegant. It was obviously known for being loud and not elegant and strange, It never stood tall (Even if it had it would still of been larger and taller than i), Its head was always hanging down freely, swaying this way and that as it stamped, dragging it's body along with it. Not only was the new creature stange and something i had never seen before which of course fasinated me, Its aroma was stressed, tight and fearful. I dared to go near it, so i watched. Every dragged step it done, tearing the crisps leafs of winter apart so effortlessly as if they stepped on it and twisted its odd looking paws, made me blink. The effortless steps created such power beneath it odd looking paw on the forest floor. I kept watching. Slightly interested at this point. I took a deep breath, inhaling so much i could feel my lungs exspanding inside of me as if i were to scream to the top of my voice through a dark, echoing cave. I breathed out.