Bits n' Pieces

Once more have I neglected you, dear bloggers, and once more have the phantoms of ideas and thoughts been tugging at my conscience only to flee at the sight of the keyboard.
Shy things, my thoughts.

Those I do remember, and I feel necessitate recording, make no sense. Just particles of once greater thoughts and fantasies.
Lucky you, to stumble across this particular blog entry; I invite you to enjoy my fragmented thoughts and to finish them at your leisure.


"She stared out of the frosted window and let her imagination loose upon the mist and forest, watching as the creative shadow of her mind stretched gossamer wings forth to brush the gray, twisted bramble, causing a metamorphosis from wooden elements to the deadly elements of a human assassin, forbidding in stature and cloaked in gray.
Face hooded, this man of the night wandered, his only companion, and only means of providing for himself and his loved ones, was the hard dagger at his hip; this dagger glinted maliciously in the thin moonlight, quite aware, despite its inanimate state, of the power it held over its master. This dagger was, needless to say, a very poor companion for the lonely man who strode through the forest.
The assassin, Death's own apprentice, possessed arms that could, and for the correct price would, wrap their vice-like grip around the fragile shells of many an embodied spirit, effectively extinguishing the lives of those unfortunate few. Yet...the girl could tell that these arms were more inclined to wrap around his hungry children waiting for him back across the sea.
Granting the man his wish, she watched as the mist swiftly dissolved into the foaming sea and as a the shadows became the dark, angry ocean. The wind blew and carressed the poor man's face, and she watched this assassin, this husband, this father, lift his head, thoughts momentarily diverted from the grisly tasks awaiting him back across the sea.
She watched expectantly for the warming reunion sure to come as children greeted father and wife, husband. Light and darkness played across her frosty window into this imaginative world, however, causing the creative shadow to withdraw its wing, and throw the assassin's story onto the back of a cool winter wind, scattering the story across the countryside and into the dreams of farmers and their own hungry famalies.
She tilted her head up to greet he who had interrupted her musings, long hair shifting over wool covered shoulders and..."


So how about, on a totally different note, dear readers, instead of saying passed with flying colors we say succeeded with gravity-defying prisms of resplendent light ?

I have other thoughts that would compliment these that I have typed out, but I think it time to retire for the night.
I bid you good night and sweet dreams.