Post by h a l e y on Aug 20, 2008 11:14:23 GMT -5
Good God your coming up with reasons
Good God your dragging it out
Good God it's the changing of the seasons
I feel so raped
So follow me down
© Me
Title
Ghost
Generation
Twelve Years
Class
Gypsy Vanner
Sex
Bronc
Hue
Grey with faint dapples
Stature
Sixteen and three hands high
Past
He was born four years before Anthony, both were from the same parents. Ghost stood by his dying mother as Anthony came out. Weeks later, Ghost left on his own, he couldn't take it being alone. His father didn't care, along with the others of the herd. He was fortunate enough to claim three mares, but they died in a bad storm, Ghost, who was much more strong than his younger brother, survived many elements of the world including big cats, other brutes, and weather. He walked alone for several years, until now, where he finds a familiar scent. Anthony.
Sample
No. Why? Everything was gaining on him. But why? They laughed, their faces filled with evil. Who where they? Why were they chasing him? Their laughs echoed everywhere. Where was he? No where to run, to turn, to escape. What was this place? Darkness, everywhere!
He screamed, jolting up from the patch of flattened sod. His entire pelt was covered in sweat. He sighed, it was only a dream. The brute looked around him. It was late summer, fall would come in any day now. The soft breeze flew by, cooling his hot body down.
What caused him such pain? It was horrible. Who were them cruel creatures? They didn't look equine at all. And their cackles! It was the most horrible thing one would ever hear! And it echoed everywhere in that never ending darkness. What would have happened if he'd never awaken?
A heavy sigh escaped his slightly parted lips. He shook his crown, trying so hard to release the painful images. He felt he knew who they were, but couldn't come up with anything. He struggling up to his feathered stilts, shaking his pelt. The stud looked around him, he didn't remember coming here. Nor laying down to sleep. He must have fell.
With a flick of his flag, he sulked forward. His strides were smaller than usual. He moved slower, his nape even with his bod. He flicked his auds around, listening to the brush flicker, the birds chattering softly. All soothing noises, but he wasn't comforted.
He moved deeper into the woods, straighning his posture. Nothing was going to take him down. His auburn orbs scanned the area. The scent of a coyote was near. A low growl emitted from deep inside his throat.
And just fake it if your out of direction
Fake it if you don't belong, yeah
Fake it if you feel like a back stab
Woah your such a f**king hypocrite
Fake It © Seether
Word count 294 words
Muse Tired
Status Complete
Muse Tired
Status Complete
~~
Tag
h a l e y or Pooz
Roleplaying Experience
Two and a half years on my own forums
Do you like Feather Dust so far?
Yes, I do. It seems fairly simple and nice. :]
Any changes you would make?
Different layout(s)? I have a hard time reading the text ^^'
Code word
Jazz
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