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style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'><b>You Are 50%
Weird</b></font></td></tr><tr><td
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Normal enough to know that you're weird...
But too damn weird to do anything about it!</font></td></tr></table><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howweirdareyouquiz/">How Weird Are You?</a></div>
Probably about right ;)
Ok, been thinking about this for a while but have only just got up the courage to try it.
Story Presents for Christmas!
No, I'm not being very cheap, this is just for people reading this LJ (Family will get a stocking full of coal and pig knuckles as per usual ;>) . Some of the other LJ's I read are written by fanfic writers who produce great stories (Take a bow![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
trixie_chick and bwinter) and so I've been inspired to try and create more stories of my own. What I'm after
from you would be a quote, song lyric, verse, etc for me to hang the
story on, and any other detail requests such as location or style. I'm
not looking to write for any particular fandoms or known characters but
if you have a particular request then make sure I know the characters
(kinda helpful) amd ask away. Stories will only be short little
vignettes (probably), unless I get on a roll (unlikely) when they could
be any length.
I've been wanting to get back writing for a while but have lacked the impetus and ideas. Hopefully, this will provide both. For curiosities sake and to so you can know what you might be getting I'll put some old stories behind cuts for your perusal. These all have christian themes to them (what with me being a christian and all) but the requested new stories won't have unless you ask for it.
Pushing through the tree's. Bounding along the tracks and pig-runs of the forest. The greens of the leaves blur and slide. Left and right, flashing past my view. I launch myself over a slow moving stream, the clear water sparkling in the midday sun. I hear the wind whistle and then the crack of branches, broken as my slender hooves plant themselves firmly on landing. I hear the blood pound in my veins, my breath panting and the swish of leaves as I pass by.
I run for the joy of it, the pleasure of the exertion, to push myself as fast as I can go. A brief gap winks past to my right and from the shade springs the wolf. Her jet black eye's set deep in a fair brown face. I quicken my pace. I can hear the gasp of her breath and the lolling of her tongue as she draws closer behind me. Her paws are silent as we race onto a lush pasture. The edge of my vision begins to register her nose as she draws alongside me.
For every increase of pace I make, her bounding strides compensate and still she moves up alongside me. For a second we are side by side, racing through the knee length grass. My lithe body, delicate legs, finely pointed nose and ears in contrast to her muscular, long-limbed, shaggy frame with it's long snout and dark eyes.
And then she moves ahead of me, her haunches come level with my head, then her body. We approach the pool with her almost a full body length ahead of me. She pounds ahead at breakneck speed, while I veer away to the right and back towards the trees. I run on even as I hear her howl for joy and plunge into the crisp, clear water to refresh and cool herself after her victory.
I run on, springing above bush and shrub. Picking my way at high speed under boughs of white apple blossom and over banks of a myriad tiny, red flowers. I fly into the ordered garden of the man and woman, past beds of flowers and carefully fashioned leaf archways. They are no-where to be seen so I run on and on. I go deeper into the garden, nearer to the centre, nearer to the trees. Still no sign of them as I race down the path to the heart of the garden. The crunch from my hooves on the light grit deepens as I slow before the opening to the tree glade. Walking into the glade, I marvel again at the beauty of the trees. The scale and complexity of the branches is a wonder in itself. My eye's are so taken by their intricacy that it is some seconds before I see the figures of the man and woman at the base of the nearer tree. From a low bough hangs the long, thin figure of the serpent. His head swaying left to right, speaking first to the woman and then the man. They talk more as I trot closer over the long grass. I can't make out what is being said, but something doesn't feel . . . right. I can't explain it, it's like nothing I've experienced before. But I don't like it.
Eve passes something to Adam. Lifting it to his face, he bites into it straight away.
The sky stay's a pure, pristine blue. The breeze stays a gentle and refreshing tickle on the skin. Still I know that nothing is the same as it was. I bolt from the glade. I crash through bush and hedge, no longer caring for finesse. I run now not for the enjoyment it brings, not to exalt in my speed or grace, but in the necessity of flight. I can put a name to my previous unease now. It is called fear.
I feel the edges of my mind recede. Pulling back to focus on the demands of survival, of flight or fight. I run onward. Fear, pushing adrenaline to my legs, drives me on. The shadowy form of the wolf pursues me, away to the left. No race. No play. Not anymore. I dart aside hoping to lose her in a thicket. I hear her mournful howl of anticipation. I push harder and run on.
Before my mind finally loses all focus beyond survival, I feel the gentle touch of my creator. His sadness is palpable. My eyes shed their first tears for him. He has come to say goodbye and to give his final gift, a promise. That which was broken today will not stay broken. That which was, will one day be again. He promises this to me and to the wolf. To both the predator and the prey. One day we will run for the pleasure of it again.
As I crept out from among the tree's, the man was standing naked in the river. He was faced away from me, towards the far bank,and appeared to be bathing himself. On his back I could see two long scars running from his shoulder blades and down towards his waist. He turned and saw me staring at him. With bitterness in his voice, he started up the bank saying "Heaven wasn't the only thing lost to me."
Alternative Parables:Prodigal Son
Jesus spoke to the crowds saying "There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, 'Father, give me my share of the estate.' So he divided his property between them."
As Jesus continued with his parable, a man in the crowd turned to his friend and whispered "I've heard this before. He told this one over in Bethany the other month. You see the son goes off and wastes all his money on parties and the like, but when it runs out all his new 'friends' desert him and he has no money for food or nothing. So he decides to go home and work for his father as a slave, only the old man has been watching for him and throws a party for him cos he's come home."
At this the mans friend looks questioningly at him, saying "That must be a different one. Listen to him, there's no happy ending here."
Jesus was coming to the end of the parable, with the son walking back to his father. "While he was still a long way off, the son could see his fathers house but could see no-one working in the fields or any sheep or cattle there. When he reached the house he found it was derelict and deserted. There was no sign of his father, brother or any of the household. The son stood standing at the gate, wondering what had happened when a woman came passing by. He turned to her asking "What has happened to all the people, who lived and worked here ?" "For a long time the old man stood here watching the roads for his lost son, but in the end he despaired of his coming back despite the messengers he sent to find and ask him to come back, and so he and his other son sold everything and left. I don't know where they went to."
As the woman went on her way, the lost son sat at the gate and wondered what had happened to the messenger's his father had sent to find him. No one had reached him from his fathers house, nor had he heard of anyone asking after him.
"If I had known," he thought, "that my father would welcome me back with open arms, then I would of come sooner. I feared that he would turn me away after all I had done."
The younger son remained lost and separated from his father until he died. The messengers that went out to look for the son each had different reasons for not finding him. Some thought it too much like hard work, some wanted to do their own thing instead. Others feared that the son would laugh at them or that if he came back, it would harm their own place in the fathers household. Others again just didn't care what happened to the son. But what ever their reasons, still the son never heard of his fathers continuing love until too late.
[Bad username or unknown identity: ][Unknown site tag]
Normal enough to know that you're weird...
But too damn weird to do anything about it!</font></td></tr></table><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howweirdareyouquiz/">How Weird Are You?</a></div>
Probably about right ;)
Ok, been thinking about this for a while but have only just got up the courage to try it.
Story Presents for Christmas!
No, I'm not being very cheap, this is just for people reading this LJ (Family will get a stocking full of coal and pig knuckles as per usual ;>) . Some of the other LJ's I read are written by fanfic writers who produce great stories (Take a bow
trixie_chick and bwinter) and so I've been inspired to try and create more stories of my own. What I'm after
from you would be a quote, song lyric, verse, etc for me to hang the
story on, and any other detail requests such as location or style. I'm
not looking to write for any particular fandoms or known characters but
if you have a particular request then make sure I know the characters
(kinda helpful) amd ask away. Stories will only be short little
vignettes (probably), unless I get on a roll (unlikely) when they could
be any length.
I've been wanting to get back writing for a while but have lacked the impetus and ideas. Hopefully, this will provide both. For curiosities sake and to so you can know what you might be getting I'll put some old stories behind cuts for your perusal. These all have christian themes to them (what with me being a christian and all) but the requested new stories won't have unless you ask for it.
Dear Times
Pushing through the tree's. Bounding along the tracks and pig-runs of the forest. The greens of the leaves blur and slide. Left and right, flashing past my view. I launch myself over a slow moving stream, the clear water sparkling in the midday sun. I hear the wind whistle and then the crack of branches, broken as my slender hooves plant themselves firmly on landing. I hear the blood pound in my veins, my breath panting and the swish of leaves as I pass by.
I run for the joy of it, the pleasure of the exertion, to push myself as fast as I can go. A brief gap winks past to my right and from the shade springs the wolf. Her jet black eye's set deep in a fair brown face. I quicken my pace. I can hear the gasp of her breath and the lolling of her tongue as she draws closer behind me. Her paws are silent as we race onto a lush pasture. The edge of my vision begins to register her nose as she draws alongside me.
For every increase of pace I make, her bounding strides compensate and still she moves up alongside me. For a second we are side by side, racing through the knee length grass. My lithe body, delicate legs, finely pointed nose and ears in contrast to her muscular, long-limbed, shaggy frame with it's long snout and dark eyes.
And then she moves ahead of me, her haunches come level with my head, then her body. We approach the pool with her almost a full body length ahead of me. She pounds ahead at breakneck speed, while I veer away to the right and back towards the trees. I run on even as I hear her howl for joy and plunge into the crisp, clear water to refresh and cool herself after her victory.
I run on, springing above bush and shrub. Picking my way at high speed under boughs of white apple blossom and over banks of a myriad tiny, red flowers. I fly into the ordered garden of the man and woman, past beds of flowers and carefully fashioned leaf archways. They are no-where to be seen so I run on and on. I go deeper into the garden, nearer to the centre, nearer to the trees. Still no sign of them as I race down the path to the heart of the garden. The crunch from my hooves on the light grit deepens as I slow before the opening to the tree glade. Walking into the glade, I marvel again at the beauty of the trees. The scale and complexity of the branches is a wonder in itself. My eye's are so taken by their intricacy that it is some seconds before I see the figures of the man and woman at the base of the nearer tree. From a low bough hangs the long, thin figure of the serpent. His head swaying left to right, speaking first to the woman and then the man. They talk more as I trot closer over the long grass. I can't make out what is being said, but something doesn't feel . . . right. I can't explain it, it's like nothing I've experienced before. But I don't like it.
Eve passes something to Adam. Lifting it to his face, he bites into it straight away.
The sky stay's a pure, pristine blue. The breeze stays a gentle and refreshing tickle on the skin. Still I know that nothing is the same as it was. I bolt from the glade. I crash through bush and hedge, no longer caring for finesse. I run now not for the enjoyment it brings, not to exalt in my speed or grace, but in the necessity of flight. I can put a name to my previous unease now. It is called fear.
I feel the edges of my mind recede. Pulling back to focus on the demands of survival, of flight or fight. I run onward. Fear, pushing adrenaline to my legs, drives me on. The shadowy form of the wolf pursues me, away to the left. No race. No play. Not anymore. I dart aside hoping to lose her in a thicket. I hear her mournful howl of anticipation. I push harder and run on.
Before my mind finally loses all focus beyond survival, I feel the gentle touch of my creator. His sadness is palpable. My eyes shed their first tears for him. He has come to say goodbye and to give his final gift, a promise. That which was broken today will not stay broken. That which was, will one day be again. He promises this to me and to the wolf. To both the predator and the prey. One day we will run for the pleasure of it again.
Like Lightning from Heaven
As I crept out from among the tree's, the man was standing naked in the river. He was faced away from me, towards the far bank,and appeared to be bathing himself. On his back I could see two long scars running from his shoulder blades and down towards his waist. He turned and saw me staring at him. With bitterness in his voice, he started up the bank saying "Heaven wasn't the only thing lost to me."
Alternative Parables:Prodigal Son
Jesus spoke to the crowds saying "There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, 'Father, give me my share of the estate.' So he divided his property between them."
As Jesus continued with his parable, a man in the crowd turned to his friend and whispered "I've heard this before. He told this one over in Bethany the other month. You see the son goes off and wastes all his money on parties and the like, but when it runs out all his new 'friends' desert him and he has no money for food or nothing. So he decides to go home and work for his father as a slave, only the old man has been watching for him and throws a party for him cos he's come home."
At this the mans friend looks questioningly at him, saying "That must be a different one. Listen to him, there's no happy ending here."
Jesus was coming to the end of the parable, with the son walking back to his father. "While he was still a long way off, the son could see his fathers house but could see no-one working in the fields or any sheep or cattle there. When he reached the house he found it was derelict and deserted. There was no sign of his father, brother or any of the household. The son stood standing at the gate, wondering what had happened when a woman came passing by. He turned to her asking "What has happened to all the people, who lived and worked here ?" "For a long time the old man stood here watching the roads for his lost son, but in the end he despaired of his coming back despite the messengers he sent to find and ask him to come back, and so he and his other son sold everything and left. I don't know where they went to."
As the woman went on her way, the lost son sat at the gate and wondered what had happened to the messenger's his father had sent to find him. No one had reached him from his fathers house, nor had he heard of anyone asking after him.
"If I had known," he thought, "that my father would welcome me back with open arms, then I would of come sooner. I feared that he would turn me away after all I had done."
The younger son remained lost and separated from his father until he died. The messengers that went out to look for the son each had different reasons for not finding him. Some thought it too much like hard work, some wanted to do their own thing instead. Others feared that the son would laugh at them or that if he came back, it would harm their own place in the fathers household. Others again just didn't care what happened to the son. But what ever their reasons, still the son never heard of his fathers continuing love until too late.
[Bad username or unknown identity: ][Unknown site tag]