Posted on 06/29/2007 7:12:24 PM PDT by kinganil
I’ll have to write one then.
Upon re-inspecting my own, I better not.
Nice picture, thanks! It’s still a few hours until we see light like that (and I do love our long slow northern summer evenings — that’s 10 PM or later here), a nice end to an ugly afternoon evaluating and writing comments to a nasty proposed federal “guideline.”
My only exposure has been to broken bulbs.
What would I know?
;-)
Nite Darks.
(Thinking......more thinking.........oh, lol, you are right)
Nite.
LOL
;-)
Have a good one.
I write some horribly odd stuff.
Put those thoughts away for the night, and enjoy life.
That’s what I’m going to do.
Nite Sion.
Most of the stuff I’ve written about was a bit out of this world too.
My bizarre train of though could go up against yours anytime, except now.
I must retire.
See you tomorrow.
:-)
I would assume that even in your narrations, becoming a ghost is an unusual thing.
For what reason did he become a ghost?
Is he going to bring himself out of it after a bit? My character had to do it the hard way. (Chapter One of Book Four ... “Are You A Ghost Now?”)
Some of my older stuff from April 2, 2002:
"What the devil is a tulgey wood?"
I don't know, ask the mad Englishman.
"I don't want to speak to any mad Englishman!"
"Too late!" cried a rather inebriated crow. "Raven!" it corrected.
"That'll be twenty four quid." said the short barkeep. Twenty four squid swam through the sunny sky as the evening progressed on.
The tall clock shortly clanged twenty as it melted and pooled into a mirror under a chair. The woman shrieked and pointed, "Knobby knees!"
Sure enough, the knobby knees merely crossed themselves and remained sitting.
"Is!" cried one. "Isn't!" cried two. "An eighth!" cried many.
A demented dwarven tailor ran around trying to sew up a dress that wouldn't sit still.
"Leave me alone!" cried the woman with no clothes as she ran from her wardrobe, it's clutching fashions inches from her heels.
"What is the best position to be in?" yelled the defendant from the bench.
"I wouldn't want to be one." said Five while in the park with the machina blades.
"In the hole!" screamed a soldier diving for cover behind a waddling mailbox as a hail of ju-ju bees flew his way.
The ju-ju bees merely sang 'Oh you can tell by the way I use my walk, I'm a woman's man - no time to talk'.
The mailman promptly burst into flames in response. The parrot doused him with it's martini.
It was about then that Max found out the stinging in his shoulder wasn't a biting insect but rather a tranq dart. He slumped over the counter and into the mirrored chair.
"Got one!" yelled the safari hunters as they surrounded the tailor. "Didn't you tranq him?" asked one. "Yes, see how he lays so still?" said three. The dwarven tailor kicked and bit furiously at the shins of an ogre as the safari hunters wrapped him in a penny wrapper.
"Damn the Cheetos! Full speed ahead!" cried a lobster as he jumped into the boiling punch bowl.
"Begone, foul spirit!" yelled a man to the spectre in front of him. The Barkeep turned and left. The spectre and the man looked at each other and shrugged, and promptly went back to slugging it out with the wallaby.
"Do you know where I am?" said a hoarse whisper from over the ladies left shoulder.
"You're standing on my foot." said the lady.
"Sorry." said the hoarse whisper.
The horse, however, was unimpressed.
"Showers today and a passing sprinkle."
"We just had a shower!" cried the three soaking wet co-eds from the middle of the spray. The sprinkler walked past the window and was run down by a deranged cabby.
"For the love of it all!" yelled one defender of the port-a-johns. "For the vestibule!" replied his quarterback. "For the mall!" howled the tight end as he ran down the throat of a charging barnacle.
Presently, the port-a-johns were over-run by the invaders from the RV.
Over in a corner, the Inquisitors were doing interesting things to a duck. The duck, however, was asking the questions.
Howard looked around the room and saw nothing wrong. But he knew he was in trouble when he saw the bunny.
The barbarians on either side of Howard slapped a sign on his back saying, "Mace me, I like it."
A waddling chiapet skated on by and hosed the storefronts down with fully-automatic paper shredders, obliterating the days work. The paper carnage was awful, so a ticker-tape parade broke out.
Panic ensued as the crowd orderly ambled down the main avenue, waving and smiling.
"My gosh! Look at the pillaging and looting going on! Will someone stop that crowd?"
The crowd was not to be stopped as they sat waiting for a light to turn. The light's turn signal stayed on as it drove straight.
The prophecy stated that all would come to an end when the clock struck thirteen. And sure enough, the clock stared at it's neighbor vehemently and up and struck thirteen for looking back at him.
"This is the most stable compound yet!!" exclaimed the scientist, who then promptly exploded.
After the melee was over, and the orgists had gone away, an orc came and swallowed the whole scene. Because nothing cleans up like and orc upright.
Okers.
Pleasant evening, dream well.
I already have. Sufficient unto the morrow is the evil thereof. *\;-)
First draft is more or less finished; a few hours for polishing and I can launch it upon an unsuspecting (political) world. *\;-)
Karsh is rather touchy about saying on that.
But for his people, ghostliness is a norm.
Or it was in his time.
Not so much a thousand years after his initial battle and ‘end’ with the Archon.
(By his count, he’s ‘died’ at least three times. The time of having Lady Bouvredi bash him with the tankard doesn’t count.)
This is complicated by the meddling of the Eternal, and Karsh status as a shape shifter.
A recurring ‘face’ in the story, Abilene the Seer, was known as Abilene the Shieldkeeper in her time as she was the warrior, and her King, Nev Dralmat, was a bit of a scholar/tinkerer.
In the story, she’s a ghost, and quite a troublesome one at that.
Arselen starts off the events in the beginning of the tale by taking refuge in the temple, and asking for a hero.
Just so happens that down in the crypts, the Eternal has a hero up his sleeve, Karsh.
(Karsh thought he was dead, at least wasn’t that what happens when one falls in battle against a necromancer? And then the Eternal goes and wakes him up from his nice peaceful rest on that stone bier.)
More like ‘stream of insanity’.
I wrote that at 3 in the morning.
I wrote late last night, too, although my story was only slightly less weird than yours.
Yes, but yours is probably closer to being finished than what I’ve got scribbled down.
*chuckle*
I don’t know how long this one will be, it will just have to end itself I guess.
Dunno.
Karsh tells me that necromancers are darn tough to destroy.
I’ll have to take his word on that.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.