Kurt Wagner My Best Work
I am a sad strange young woman who loves Dragons, Phantom of the opera, and X-Men. I draw and write stories about my odd dreams, dad says I'm the next Steven King!
Ah yes, and I also LOVE Magic, contact juggiling and... Star Trek! ^ ^ Don't laugh...
Send me a message... if you dare(grins playfuly)
Also... I Play Dax! On
la compagnie & Demona Aboard the
Le Canard ship of
The Mediterranean Sea in the RP
seven seas
P.s. My stuff is mine, take it and die!
Oh! Cool site! Check it out!
http://s1.bitefight.org/c.php?uid=79268
And this one Too!
http://s3.bitefight.org/c.php?uid=76816
My Inner Dragon is a...
Warder Dragon
In the war between good and evil, Warder Dragons take the side of the noble and good.
When it comes to the powers of Chaos vs. those of Law and Order, your inner dragon tends to do things by the book.
As far as magical tendancies, Magical spells come as natural to the Warder Dragon as breathe from it's body.
During combat situations, whether by spells or by claw, your inner dragon will do whatever it takes to get the job done.
Dragon Description:
The warder dragon is a large and bulky dragon, with large strong legs and arms. The size of these mammoth dragons starts from birth at the size of a mature border collie! But don’t be fooled by these big dragons, they aren’t slow, but aren’t fast, and they tend to be more peaceful and talkative than most dragons.
Warder dragons get their names from the fact that they radiate a holy magical aura from their large tattoo like markings that may be anywhere on their bodies, the aura destroys "pure evil" beings, but higher evil ones will just be phased. The warder dragon loves love, and enjoy being in relationships with mates, and they despise weight jokes and anti-self acceptance jokes. They will gladly fight when it comes to defending a homeland or their friends!
Me in a nut shell...
The Darkness
I remember a time when I feared the dark, long ago, when I was young. A single beam of light that seeped in from the open crack of my bed room door gave me comfort, made me feel safe. I miss those long forgotten days. Now I am completely consumed by that same darkness. What once terrified me became my sanctuary. At one time my sister would lock me in a dark place, and I screamed I cried. Now I come to the dark to do just that. A place where the Monsters hid is now where I hide. A place were I could not see I am now lost, invisible to the world. It was my dream to bathe in golden sunlight surrounded by love,. Now I only wish to curl up into a dark corner covered in warmth and softness, to be alone with my thoughts, never to need anything or to see anyone. Just to live a hundred-thousa
nd times over in my dreams of make believe… What has happened to me? ……
I wrote this stuff my self.
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That one is mine. ^ ^
This is the begining of a book im writing called "Masked Love" the names got to go ^ ^ PLEASE! tell me what you think of it.
Chapter 1
“Ya!” I shouted to the white stallion, who in turn rose on his hind legs. A shrill whinny broke through the silent night, and the chase began. “Faster!”, “Faster” I willed the horse, lashing the reins and thrusting my heels into the great steed’s sides. “Come on Romeo, we’re gaining on them!” I encouraged as our adversary came into view. Romeo’s hooves clopped against the snow laced dirt road, yet fear struck me when I realized that we had just past the last of the lamp posts and had begun to venture into the dark woods. Under my hooded cape an evening gown held no warmth against the cold night air; it only whipped itself around my flesh. The black mare was still in sight, as was its dark cloaked rider. His cloak too thrashed violently in the arousing icy winds.
My face was protected from the fierce gusts by the mask I wore, though my eyes were easy targets. Twisted silhouettes of trees and shadows flashed across my vision… like bony hands reaching out to pull you into the dark abyss. Silent voices whispered from the void, saying to turn back, willing me to pursue no longer. Sheer determination pushed me beyond the edge of sanity and one thought… I must know.
A sudden clearing appeared before us. “Whoa” I shot at the stallion, while the leather straps jerked in my grasp. Romeo digging his heels into the ground halting us to a dead stop. The black pair continued on into the clearing; where in the center laid a small cottage, smoke rising from the brick chimney. The dark mare raced on towards the cozy hut and into a stable. Silently I dismounted my horse and lead him to the shadow cast by the dead trees; the cloaked figure appeared from the stable and entered into the house.
“I’ve got you now…” I whispered under my breath, a ghostly white fog seeping from my mouth.
A piece of my work... What cha think?
The wall rushed up and smashed into my face; I fell to the ground in complete disbelief and shock. I felt ice cold yet my veins were on fire; I was unsure of if it was because of what came out or what went in.
My lungs felt at though they were collapsing. I struggled to breathe as I fell in and out of consciousness, but I felt every moment of pain. Tearing at the collar of my shirt, I hoped that it would relieve my restricted air way. It completely daft me; I was taking in air just fine but my body was rejecting it, like I was drowning. Until I felt entirely submerged, and my chest started spasing.
Kneeling into a corner I pressed my forehead against the cool, smooth, gray stone wall with my mouth gapped open like a fish as my hands clawed the wall; the tips of my fingers dripping blood. I tore at the stone as if I was trying to crawl my way out of a well. Then the futile motion stilled, my heart beat seceded, slowly I wrapped my arms around my waist.
As I hugged my middle I rocked back and forth, wide eyed, as though I had just had a miscarriage. Some life inside body was extinguished, and left me alone to sulk in it mocking silence. The warmth of my body faded away from the outside in; a single flame withering, growing smaller and smaller. Then in a puff of smoke it was dead… I was dead.
Death
He stalks down the dark hallway, traveling from door to door. His cloak sways along the floor as he glides with unnatural grace. The blade perched atop his staff scratches and gouges into the adjacent wall. A solemn sigh escapes from the open gaped mouths of the occupants of the room which his shadow has been cased upon. Their breaths silenced in there throats, never again to whisper a sound. He is the relief from pain and the bringer of woe, though he dose not take pride nor pleasure in his work. What must it be like to hold a rose only to have it wither in your palm, to be plagued by deafening silence. Many have shed a river of tears for the dearly departed, but please, save one solitary tear for the conductor who was cursed with the duty of blowing the final whistle.
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