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personia's creativity.


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Firstly, I just wanna say, do I really have to my name on the title? that just seems idiotic to me... It's not as though I'm gonna be the owner of someone else's topic...

 

Also, I have no title with fancy writing at the moment.

 

Okay, with that out of the way, this is my creativity topic. Yup. Sooo....

Edited by personia
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Okay, everyone else seems to do this, so here's some crud.

 

Writings:

 

 

 

Other stuff

 

 

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Alrighty, here is my first peice on here!

 

The End

 

The man’s eyes droop, his legs, weak from lack of food look as though they are twigs. His nose, crooked from the broken noses he has been given, stumbles down the dusty road. Blood slowly starts to trickle from his eye, like a crimson tear, and then begins to come from his nose and mouth. In the center of the road, the man stands lopsidedly. His hair is all but gone, the few remaining strands thrown wildly across his head like a crazy combover. The man stares down the road, wondering if he should follow his friends. A tumbleweed blows across the road, getting stuck on his leg. The blood has ceased coming from his mouth and nose, but his crimson tears still fall. The man looks around, suddenly bewildered at how long it was since he has seen another person, indeed another living soul! His eyes are accustomed to seeing only the old shacks, inns and the one remaining pub. Surrounding these is the desert, which howling wind kicks up enough sand and dirt to rival the Dust bowl. The man stares out, beyond the horizon, beyond time and space, and sees nothing. His eyes cease to serve him. They have done so for ten years. Maybe that was the cause of all this he thinks. Slowly, the man’s trickle turns into a torrent, and he has blood pouring from his eyes, long past their usefulness as they are. Life hasn’t treated the man well. Slowly though, as he always does, the man stops his tears, the wounds close. The man takes one last look at the old ghost town. He walks over to the flag pole with the tatty flag that he used to climb as a child, and strokes it tenderly, memories flooding his heart. Finally, the man goes and sits in his favourite chair, as he has done every day for the past 10 years. He sits there a long, long time. Finally, the man is ready. He stands up, making sure to place the chair in its correct place, and then he leaves. On the only road out of town, the man walks, never turning to look back lest it break his resolve. He walks and walks, getting smaller and smaller, until he is no longer visible.


And the man never comes back.

Edited by personia
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Bu Bu but, I won the crystals right ?

Why does he want my crystals ?

He just wants crystals. Not anybodies, just somebodies. 

 

Create my clan something?

Sure, what do you want created?

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Create my clan something?

Kyle? You there? What do you want? xD

 

Good luck for your creativity skills!  :P

Thanks Golden!

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Something Cool  :ph34r:  :P  :wub:

Wow, you're specific, aren't you... :/

 

Gl my person

Thank you!

 

Good Luck Dude 

Thanks!

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