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Sagas and Howls from the North
Created on 2004-11-20 07:31:34 (#5206555), last updated 2008-06-03
408 comments received, 711 comments posted
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Basic Info| Name: | St. Brodizzle |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 02-29 |
| Location: | Chicago, Illinois, United States |
BioSun streaked, and still cold, the white wolf wanders on; the northern plains are snow-swept and ice laiden. The wind howls as it tears through his matted fur to the soft flesh beneth. He joins the wind in its cry, howling in anguish and rage; a primordial scream of anger with no owner. He is the howling wolf.
His feet freeze fast to the blinding snow. It falls ever faster now. His search will soon be over, burried beneath the clensing white.
As the pale moon raises, the clouds begin to clear. In the darkness the light shines through; srounding silver falls down in beams, filling dreams. The white wolf collapses. Exaustion takes its toll on all things living.
Waking with the sun no respite allowed he continues on. His tracks: a pitifly small and insignifigant trail. Falling snow obscures them. The sun is feeble; it offeres no comfort.
Too cold in the dark and exposed in the light.
Lines across his face tell stories of stonger days. Sagas of heroism and strength. No longer. He is alone now, last of his pack. Gone are the once plentiful prey. The days are getting warmer. His northward quest will claim him. Pain is the only assurence of his existance.
He saw two suns setting in the sky. Darkness; light, foe; friend, they where all equal in the end. Dimonds and ash equilised as the world turned black.
His feet freeze fast to the blinding snow. It falls ever faster now. His search will soon be over, burried beneath the clensing white.
As the pale moon raises, the clouds begin to clear. In the darkness the light shines through; srounding silver falls down in beams, filling dreams. The white wolf collapses. Exaustion takes its toll on all things living.
Waking with the sun no respite allowed he continues on. His tracks: a pitifly small and insignifigant trail. Falling snow obscures them. The sun is feeble; it offeres no comfort.
Too cold in the dark and exposed in the light.
Lines across his face tell stories of stonger days. Sagas of heroism and strength. No longer. He is alone now, last of his pack. Gone are the once plentiful prey. The days are getting warmer. His northward quest will claim him. Pain is the only assurence of his existance.
He saw two suns setting in the sky. Darkness; light, foe; friend, they where all equal in the end. Dimonds and ash equilised as the world turned black.
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art, blues, cheerleading, chemistry, classic liturature, classic rock, cross country, death, fishing, good friends, guitar, gymnastics, history, jesus, martial arts, nature, old metal, pain, philosophy, phsycology, science, self improvement, sleep, sonnets sexy sexy sonnets, the jesus hitch, the mgs series, throwing knives, tricking
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bloody_teardrop, breedalbatrosse, cheshirecatt, dao_master, fakeplast1c, feelafear, flaccid_dork, garbagebird, gimmemoses, goatmale, graemecracker3, iiidiotique, ilovemysammie, kizzme87, kneesheemoetoe, lxltonsoffunlxl, mikeshallow, pianoman12, runforfun21, several_names, staticandkisses, sunkissdsweetie, the_naked_ape, theninenakedmen, thundercats__ho, vivalasam16, vix32, xonlyhopex, xoxsamwell06, xvblackknightvx
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