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Excerpts from 'Charades'… A man lives here now, with me. He walks through my hallways at night, letting his shadow fall on my floor. He closes my doors and turns out my lights and showers and eats and sleeps in my quiet, hidden places. And I hate him. And I need him.Excerpts from 'Charades'
I hate him. I hate how he moves when I cannot. I hate how he laughs, when he smiles. I hate when he weeps or sighs. I hate his every sentiment, his every insignificant feeling and I want to destroy him each time his spirit fails him and he betrays himself.
He is a teacher and I s
by ~SlyJ
Fairchilde's PreyIt still followed her. She turned to look over her shoulder one more time at the tall man casting long shadows across the storefront doors in the short hours of the morning, when the streetlights were the only illumination. At least, she suspected it was a man. His collar was turned up against the wind that howled an unholy chorus through the narrow alleys that separated the warehouses from their neighbors. His face was obscured with a ragged red scarf and a battered fedora was pulled low over his eyes. She took dangerous shortcuts, through territory that she knew belonged to the GangrelFairchilde's Prey
by ~SlyJ
The Fall of AshurHe strode down the black marble hallway, brooding. His reflection shown with perfect clarity on the glossy surface of the floor and from the door of the great hall it seemed as if he were walking on water. Not that he couldn’t if he had wanted to. The large cathedral window behind him was shot through with sunlight, causing shafts of color to cut through the still air. Particles of dust, almost as ephemeral as dreams, flowed around in eddies of air. The large pillars that lined the hall seemed to grow from the floor seamlessly. At one time there were ten, one for each commandmeThe Fall of Ashur
by ~SlyJ
Jay's TaleThe bard ran his hand wearily through his hair, taking a moment of quiet reflection. It was the only time the smile ever left his face. With a slight flourish, his fingers swept the strings of the battered lute. His voice, clear as crystal and warm as honey mead, rose above the din that permeated the noisy Sentinel tavern. He was not the best anyone had ever seen, but one would have a difficult time denying that he was good. He lifted his voice in the familiar strain an old folk song, the tune familiar but the words forgotten by nearly everyone yet living. It was a song about aJay's Tale
by ~SlyJ
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Lowell, MI
- Interests: World of Warcraft, Writing and Psychology, to name a few.
- Favourite movie: Snatch, Moulin Rouge and American Beauty
- Favourite band or musician: Tori Amos, Sparklehorse, Richard Buckner
- Favourite genre of music: Yes. >.>
- Favourite artist: Yoshitaka Amano
- Favourite poet or writer: R. Scott Bakker, George RR Martin, Tad Williams, Orson Scott Card
- Operating System: I could never get the wishbone out.
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- Skin of choice: Mine
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- Favourite cartoon character: Ironman
- Personal Quote: Have you ever seen geese fight?
- Tools of the Trade: Fingers and a Word Processor
- Email: natejericho@gmail.com
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