Vlad

Love is for the weak, A festering Plague, Found in this world- Full of Romeos, 'Tis such a disgrace, To be seen near them, Flaunting everything, Living for love's sake, Loving for life's time, Corrupted clouds create, Such a pain to bear, For we live as one, And I am the weak.

Sorry to hear it Brute, hope it gets better. I wish I was better at cheering people up, but the only thing I can say is to either try t owork it out, or get on mIRC and we'll help you work it out...

Cognito Ergo Sum

When you're around, Then any sound, In this life won't matter. When you're with me, I feel so free, Living off a silver platter, This is how it could, (And most definetly should) Happen anyways, Near you the air, Gets so much flair, Throughout these days.

Smiles, The joy of the world, Make me happy while, Life gets unfurled, Grins, What to do if not laugh, It's true good always wins, Wonderful people, alas...

/me stands in shock and ameazement.... Nice!

we'll miss you, kender buddy... be sure to keep us updated... sneak into the officers lounge and use the internet there if you have to!

/me can't write stories to save his life, so here goes Disclaimer: If anybody shares a name with a person in the story, it is NOT about you. Get over yourself. There's other things to life... Spirits Thursday evening is the most boring day of the week. The thoughts of a perfectly sane mind, in a perfectly insane situation. Time ticks slowly, like alcohol dripping through your veins, but only when you watch the clock. The moment you turn away, little demons from afar come and tinker to their heart's content. Sam knew this well. Too well, in fact. Ever since her best friend, Rachel, committed suicide, Sam had been overly sensitive to everything. Secrets lurked everywhere, and Thursday was simply one of them. But Sam didn't mind, she used this time to relax. To remember her friend's life and the times they had together. This was also the only day she wore her blonde hair down. Rachel always wore her hair down, but that wasn't what people remembered about her. Nobody remembers a tall, fair skinned girl that wasn't exceptionally beautiful. Rachel wasn't ugly, by far, but she had a way of disappearing when she needed to. Getting away from all of life's troubles. She would simply stay calm and quiet, and nobody would notice her. Even Sam had difficulty finding her when she was like this. Rachel has a gentle soothing voice, one that didn't seem to belong to this girl. But it did indeed belong to her, and she used it like many others have done before. There was a small bird, with an injured wing, that hopped up onto Rachel's windowsill one misty morning. It looked in the room, and saw a quiet disarray, jumbled items, but rather clean. This house was apparently suitable for it's new home. After a small peck, Rachel opened the window and let the pitiful creature in. She loved the bird as one could love a bird, so she let it in to her life. The bird, which she named Roxy, was the sole alcove of her existence. It brought her peace, and harmony, and even helped her will to live. But this feeling was not mutual. Her feathered friend resented the cage. If you have wings you are meant to soar, and Roxy's wing had already healed. But the bird didn't have a choice, and everyday gazed out upon the sky, yearning to be free, to do what it was meant to do. The bird gave Rachel the confidence to succeed in life, to not vanish from the scene when things get moot. Rachel developed friends and gained popularity. But with this popularity came a newfound shallowness to her. She even went to her first party because of the bird. She began to ignore the meek, and feast with the mighty. No feast is fit for a king, unless it has the all-important spirits. Rachel was at first hesitant about drinking, there was so much to live for, and she could always hide, but the dim lights and jovial mood dissolved away the iron shell. First one slender bottle was opened. The pale beauty extracted, and smiles broadened even more. Then another glistening shine, releasing a few of everyone's burdens, but making those that remain just that much heavier. Rachel's cares had gone away, but at a terrible price. Roxy died that Thursday night, trying to escape from her cage. Rachel died from alcohol poisoning the next day. They never saw each other, but looked the same. Roxy, with fiery red feathers, curled up, by the latch. Rachel, in a scarlet dress, still clutching a goblet in her hand. Sam looked at the clock, and saw that it was getting late, but missed her friend too much to care. Taking her last deep breath, she brought a goblet to her lips... Special thanks to WrenWind for being my proofreader!

Quick question about the theme idea: This weeks is spirit, can I make it plural? Or change the form (still keeping spirit as the root word)? Spirits, spiritual, sprite(), spiritly...

Seeing that Griever had been 'stolen' from him by Daryl, John looked to other ways of keeping himself occupied. After a good hearty meal, which he managed to steal portions of from Kasmandre's, John felt the need to take a nap. He had just begun to get cozy near the fire, when Kasmandre spoke. Curious, John half-slept, half-listened to what the mage had to say... After Kasmandre sent Sheemie to get the books, John got up and drudged towards the leader of this ramshackle group. Kasmandre took no notice, seemingly distracted by other things, but John spoke anyways. When I was a young kid, well, not that young... But I was small, so I looked young, my mommy would always tell me a story. I don't remember that story, but I will always remember the moral of that story, which is that you should... ... ... It's not important, what is important is that- Before finishing his sentence John fell to his knees and started sobbing. Between tears he tried to speak, but only gibberish came out. His judgement blurred along with his vision, John grabbed the horse's leg and began gnawing on it. OOC: Feel free to jump in anytime

I, as a clerihew, Tend to be merry; too Merry, it might, perhaps, by some, be claimed; But I'm sure that these people are wrong, and need to be grievously maimed. What Poetry Form Are You? What is this? I've never heard of it... Although it is kinda funny...

I likewise abstain

*Speaks into wrist communiacator* Comrade Putin, the fox knows about the plan. Abort, or much harm will result to the motherland. We will continue our studies at a further date. Accent> But seriously... Personally I'm fine with it, because I have such a short attention span, I wouldn't stick aroun long enough to get my fellings hurt... Oooh look... a butterfly....

eh, so it didn't hapeen this time... eh, so I didn't do anything to desrve it... I'll live... Congrats to all!!

Wow, this was great. Very excellent rhyme structure and great one word per line stanza.

I would like to say that I started it, but 'twas Cyril who inspired me to count syllables and look at where lines end. ~Ciao for now! (it rhymes...)

wow!!! wowowowow!!!! This is the best poem I've read that was written during a writers block!!! (Mind you I've only read 3... ) I especially like the colors...! so purty!

I wanted a bit of irony with the words and syllables being so rigid and structured, but I wanted the poem itself to be smooth and (vacant?). Thanks for the critisism...!

The surge of power, The rush of my fate, Streaming endlessly- Without direction, Not knowing yourself, The worst punishment, Shards flying through you, Limping through a life, Hiding these secrets, Confusing yourself, Portals to new worlds, Breathing in the truth, My eyes are opened..! ________________________ Another experiment in syllable structure. This one, I think, didn't turn out as well. On a positive note, I think I'm over my writers block! At least partly. YAY!

This was a very good story, and a bit shocking at the end. I was definetly wondering "what will happen next"? Thanks for keeping me on the egde of my seat! (I think I missed the suicide, care to point out where it is?)

I can't quite my finger on it, but the structure or wording or SOMETHING just seems a bit off. It's a good read that could use a bit of tweaking, sorry I can't be more specific.

lol! This is hillarious. The writing, that is... not the topic. Good luck rev!

Nice one buddy, glad to see you back...

Whynotsin - you spelled commie wrong Arch - A popular girl that became unpopular simply because she was so popular. Ya, you think about that one... Whynotsin - Forum? No... Thread in C- room? I think there is one... (kinda old though)

"Come out and show yourself." Silence. A candle flickers; a playful shadow cast upon the wall. A quiet rustle, and those who worry cease. Those who fear, smile. Those who are oppressed..., remain oppressed. I can't do everything you know. From the hidden depths of the room, a figure emerges. Elwen is prepared to try and lull it with her music, but there is no need. The shape has no features, no face, but when Zariah brings a candle around the person is immediately recognizable as Vlad. The vampire smiles a smug grin as he reaches out to bring Fountain's attention back to an awake state. He has a soothing voice, which can relax your mind, but also drain your soul. Many years of survival in the underground societies has taught Vlad to live carefully but openly. Many who wish to do you ill, simply will not be able to. "Star-maiden, there is no need to be so apprehensive. There is a quiet beauty in the mysteries of life, as there is in your eyes. Do not try to learn all that there is to know, for every answer only creates more questions. No harm will befall you or Zariah or anybody else who chooses to accompany you on your journey. I will see to that. I will be there when you need me, but not sooner. The path you choose is yours alone, let no-one determine it for you." Having said these words Vlad looks directly at where Whynasin is, and reiterates, this time more forcefully, "No harm will befall you." The vampire lifts his cloak and is gone in a wisp. Whynasin wonders if this individual can see him, but his question is almost insantly answered when he feels a hand on his shoulder. A voice accompanies the hand, but this voice is raspy, old, and stale. One could hardly belive that it is the same vampire. "I can't see you... but there are other ways of knowing where one is... Are you afraid...? Play nice, and so will I... Your tavern tricks do not impress me... You have much to learn about getting ahead... I will be here, dare not forget..." As the last syllable escapes his lips, Vlad once more, is gone. OOC: Nothing personal against you, Whynotsin, but I though this would be a fun post to make.