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Young Writers Society


The Haunted Plantation DT



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303 Reviews



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Points: 11152
Reviews: 303
Sat Jul 27, 2013 5:49 pm
StoneHeart says...



@Hanorah

@umaima

@ladcat13

You're clogging up the main thread >>

But good idea (that's what I had intended) >>
For I who am poor have only my dreams
I spread my dreams under your feet . . .

. . . tread softly for you tread on my dreams.


We are masters of our silences, and slaves of our words
  





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Sat Jul 27, 2013 5:52 pm
veeren says...



Jdjdidjhrhsijskakjsbdbudbd
"Love is the name for our pursuit of wholeness, for our desire to be complete."
-Plato's Symposium
  





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Sat Jul 27, 2013 5:55 pm
ladcat13 says...



Yah sorry 'boot that. I was just thinkin as much. But I'm done for now. I'll keep reading to the end.

Millions of miles from home
In the darkness before the dawn
In the swirling of this storm
When I'm rolling with the thunder
But bleed from thorns
Leave a light, a light on.
  





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Sat Jul 27, 2013 6:14 pm
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umaima says...



Don't blame me, I was in a dilemma
“The strong person is not the one who can wrestle someone else down. The strong person is the one who can control himself when he is angry.”

“It is better to sit alone than in company with the bad; and it is better still to sit with the good than alone.”
  





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Gender: Female
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Tue Aug 20, 2013 5:14 pm
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ladcat13 says...



@Hanorah, you can have Dayna's motercyle if you want it.

Millions of miles from home
In the darkness before the dawn
In the swirling of this storm
When I'm rolling with the thunder
But bleed from thorns
Leave a light, a light on.
  





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303 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 11152
Reviews: 303
Wed Aug 21, 2013 1:51 pm
StoneHeart says...



We should really finish this SB up!! . . . who agree's?
For I who am poor have only my dreams
I spread my dreams under your feet . . .

. . . tread softly for you tread on my dreams.


We are masters of our silences, and slaves of our words
  





User avatar
303 Reviews



Gender: Male
Points: 11152
Reviews: 303
Wed Aug 21, 2013 2:06 pm
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StoneHeart says...



*is going to make a final post.
For I who am poor have only my dreams
I spread my dreams under your feet . . .

. . . tread softly for you tread on my dreams.


We are masters of our silences, and slaves of our words
  








It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill —The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.
— JRR Tolkien