Welcome to this world, a world of opinions and arseholes, a world where everyone has their own, yet is still so far up each others, they seem to be trying to posses their body. Yes, you have an opinion, why should i take any more notice of yours than any one person elses?
 We live in a world of "free choice", yet, is this actually possible? every action we have, some body is there to judge us, and even at that, there are crowds we will please with our actions, and crowds we will not. How can we have free choice, when others thoughts and opinions are valued?
 There are a lot of things that are in "human nature" that i cannot understand, how people can act like others thoughts have no meaning to their own being, and yet find themselves in a state of depression due to lack of afection, attention, praise or a general lack of presence from others. How people can follow blindly, without question, even if it doesn't make complete sense, like a flock of sheep to the slaughter.
 Shouldn't we all take time to expirence more about ourselves, and what makes us happy, instead of trying to please an ever unsatisfied crown of people, divided in judgement with every action we make? Shouldn't we all try and become our own person, and stop passing judgement if we are to have free choice? Shouldn't we become "ourselves" as that is what is intended, instead of trying to live up to the peer you never will?
 Of cause, everything i have written here, is only my opinion, so, by following my instruction, should not be followed. So you will be failing by my standards either way. Good luck, it's a big harsh wide world out there!

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This is the start of a story i did for a friend of mine, let me know any thoughts please!



The rural settlement sat upon a scrolling landscape, surrounded by woodland on all sides. The once vibrant trees and wildlife had deteriorated over the past few years, and was now desolate and empty, devoid of life. It had rained heavily that night, but had slackened off now dawn approached.
Upon the battered track leading towards civilization, a solitary figure wandered, with little to offer comfort from the prevailing wind. Long hair streaming behind in a tangled mess, cowered over as much as possible to reduce the onslaught, slowly creeping up the path, with the aid of a dark wooden staff, lest footing be lost.
Once passed the wooden style, signifying the entrance to the village, the lone traveler visions crude houses of poor quality. Wooden huts huddled together to form narrow streets, where mud and dirt had gathered, sheltered by low roofs of thatch. Windows boarded up for extra security and warmth, allowed little light to navigate the deserted streets.
In the opening signifying the center of the village, the traveler looks skyward. Her face, battered and bruised, supports many scars. The eyes are blackened, without hint of emotion. The garments worn are dirty and well worn; the jacket is torn and patched, as are the gray trousers. The once black boots are caked in dirt, making walking the more difficult.
She turns to seek the origin of footsteps, and sees a tall silhouette approaching, though hesitantly and cautious. She sighs, as this scene is all too familiar, and seems just for dramatic effect, and raises the staff high in the air, into a stray beam of light so the carvings become visible. This causes the newcomer to stop, as predicted, and he makes a grunt of recognition, beckoning to be followed.
Trailing behind the figure, she notices the clothing, a thick hooded sheep’s wool cloak, used for warmth, not comfort. Turning into a dark alley, he stops at the fourth house where hushed whispers come from within. He raps on the door three times, then waits five seconds and raps twice more. A hatch slides open, and two emerald eyes look from within.
"Let us in already! It’s freezing out here!" she commands to the faceless eyes.