I've been looking through this section for a some time now and have seen amazing pieces of artistry. The problem is is that I honestly can't draw well enough to save my life. The good side is that I can write well enough to get people to want me to write books. So I of give a beautiful visual effect (except in the first story that is not so beautiful) through writing. Here goes nothin'...
The falconer must be diligent and perserving , so much so that as old age approaches he will still pursue the sport out of pure love of it. For, as the cultivation of an art is long and new methods are constantly introduced a man should never desist in his efforts but persist in it's practice while he lives , so that he may bring the art itself nearer to perfection-Frederick II of Hohenstaufen.
[glow=pink,2,300]Female view[/glow] She was heartbroken for many reasons. Her mother's true death was kept secret from her for many insignificant reasons. Her father's incarceration and suicide were false. Her grandparent's death was in a fiery car crash. They died right in front of her. Not to mention the horrible argument she had with her aunt and uncle! She wanted to act as if she was not hurting; nevertheless, she could not help but to cry. Sorrow, anger, and absolute hatred consumed her mind. She wished she could clear her mind, but too much information rushed upon her.She went to wipe a single lonely tear, but heard a "thud" and seen a red splatter fly into the air. She shielded her face with her hands. When she looked she realized her expectations were met: blood, a dead body, and the sight of death. She was so traumatized, or rather stunned because death was here again. Later, the police arrived and questioned her. A moment later her aunt and uncle arrived. They cuddled her and stroked her head gently. It was true forgiveness.
[glow=blue,2,300]Male view (parallel to female view)[/glow] He was tired of life. Booze, cocaine, sorrow consumed his very being.He just finished sipping the last of his foul, disgusting, poisonous drink. A sensation of grief rushed over him. Suicide was the only option left to him. He walked to his window and opened it.He looked down at the freezing concrete below. He thought it would be a worthy and suitable death for for a piece of scum as himself. He was almost about to jump, but a feeling of regret flooded his senses. He was, although drunk, breaking through the haze of his mind. His family would surely fall into poverty and death!Why should he die if there is still a will in his heart? Just as he stepped down he was paralyzed. A surge of pain flowed through him. The third and final surge of pain made him lose balance and fall out his window. He had been shot. The last thing he saw was the face of a beautiful, but very sorrowful angel.
Last Edit: Aug 14, 2009 23:20:00 GMT -5 by rkolic13
The falconer must be diligent and perserving , so much so that as old age approaches he will still pursue the sport out of pure love of it. For, as the cultivation of an art is long and new methods are constantly introduced a man should never desist in his efforts but persist in it's practice while he lives , so that he may bring the art itself nearer to perfection-Frederick II of Hohenstaufen.
i'M WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK IF I'M CRAZY OR NOT LOL. a LOT OF PEOPLE DID BEFORE.
The falconer must be diligent and perserving , so much so that as old age approaches he will still pursue the sport out of pure love of it. For, as the cultivation of an art is long and new methods are constantly introduced a man should never desist in his efforts but persist in it's practice while he lives , so that he may bring the art itself nearer to perfection-Frederick II of Hohenstaufen.