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Dakotah's Journal



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PROFILE




3 entries this month
 

The Village

02:03 Oct 29 2013
Times Read: 754


Once upon a time, there was a village that had come to ruins; only rubble and decay remained. The story was told if you stood in the old town remains that the ghostly town would come alive. One day all alone I set of to find this town, I walked through the dark woods and came to a field full of stone I walk slowly through as I realized I was walking on the path of the street. I came to a stop and the cloud became heavy and darker than normal. I closed my eyes and my hairs over my entire body stood up and sent shiver down to my toes.


A ghastly ring rung out; bung,… bung,…. Bung… With my eyes still closed I could hear a clock ticking; tick tock click tick tock click, my heart began to race deep into my chest I could hardly breathe. I took a huge breath of air and my eyes opened to a place I stand; amazed a village appeared building old and faint a bell tower standing in front of me. Yes I still remember that night, were it all came through in the night of sight and I didn't have to put up a fight. Everything was true as I stood there; but I wasn't told of this part that the people would come to visit me. I felt a cold come over me like nothing I had ever felt; the cold of dead of winter as bone chilling as your flesh starting to flake off like tree bark. A voice soft and delicate whispered in my ear and then I noticed her staring at me, fear trembled down my legs weak and wobbly they felt was all I could be to just stand. Like the flames of hell it started to rain and it sounded like drops of crystal hitting the ground all around me.


I glanced up to realize I was in a ballroom where the rain was coming from the never ending ceiling, but this rain was full of sorrow and pain as it hit the floor beneath as an eerie beat set in to the rhythm of the ghostlike orchestra, I was in a trance and somehow I just couldn't look away, noticed I wasn't pulling away. She grabbed my hand as spun me around, dance with me in this everlasting night she whispered I now was never so frightened, and every part of my body stopped working. But the ghostly laughter begun and a sinister and creepy moment of love was felt. It was a beautiful feeling and the unnerving sounds were now the music I now remember; I am in a place of darkness dancing with a beautiful woman and I remember no one cared about me; well at least I thought until I came here.


We danced until the sunrise, made her disappear; I didn't care if she was a demon of the night for her Love is near. Finally I lived a day where I didn't breakdown and cry, that day changed me, Now, I don't live in a lie for I am now a part of the supernatural as I waltz the night away every cold and dark night…


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COMMENTS

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Death

02:33 Oct 28 2013
Times Read: 775


In the cast iron steel crypt death awaits, and it appears to the dead for evermore, you might have thought you were once important; but now you’re stiff shiver less body lie cold and brittle. Not even kings or queens hide this fate as the touch of death grabs us all as darkness fall upon our eyes. Even the best of friends whenever this mortal journey ends; death is like a host, comes smiling and knocking on the door; a cold and callas smile he greets us, on that tranquil thorns that shredded the flesh deep into bone that flakes like stone. Where neither piercing cries of the crow or echoes dawn this deaths disturbance in the eternal sleep; but in the stillness far withdrawn our dreamless rest for evermore we keep. With numb hand and fingerless tip no open windows forth we peek, upon the night time star surrounded and with dews forever wet; cold dampened shivers from this tasteless life the last spirit peers; and cold as a sleeping city death outspread, where we breathe no more and the sleepers evenly; turn after the loud wars, triumphs, trumpets blare like shackles of steel grinding and rattling in complete horror and tears and outcry a man's passion, Death appears draped in a dark shrouded cloak, bloodied and stained and we must rise for the painless cold slab and go. Soon are eyes grow weary and tired with sunshine; soon the ears wearier of utterance, seeing all is said; burial racked by no hopes and fears, pondering, all contriving dead, weary with all things, wearies of the years; and our sad spirits turn toward the dead; and the tired child, the crumbling body, longs for bed, carried off by the angle of death...

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COMMENTS

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Lylia
Lylia
02:41 Oct 28 2013

awww.. was that angle of death? Or Angel of death?





Dakotah
Dakotah
03:00 Oct 28 2013

Angel. Thanks for pointing that out. It is a typo.





 

PRIVATE ENTRY

23:04 Oct 14 2013
Times Read: 783


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