My writings, posted for all to see. All entries marked with an asterisk (*) are parts of my first collection; Inspired. Everything posted here is from the heart, a peek into my imagination, into my world. Critique me honestly.
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"In the end, it's not going to matter how many breaths you took, but how many moments took your breath away." -Shing Xiong *** "Do not go where the path may lead; instead where there is no path and leave a trail." -Ralph Waldo Emerson *** "Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget." -G. Randolf *** "We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us." -E.M. Forster *** "Imagnination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited, imagination encircles the world." -Albert Einstein *** Defintion of Suburbia: A place where they cut down trees and name streets after them. -(Unknown, found on sticker) :p *** "A lie goes halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on." -Winston Churchill***"Love is the irresistible desire to be desired irresistibly." -Louis Ginsberg ***"All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware." -Martin Buber
Farmer Joseph made his rounds in the early morning as he always did, delivering to all his animals their breakfasts. First the cows, then the horses, followed by the sheep, chickens, and ending with the pigs.
As he poured the slop into the pig trough, he watched one swine in particular trot over. It grunted as it walked and snuffed at the smell of food in the air with his slimy, whiskery nose. This certain pig could be identified by his front right hoof, which was pearly white, unlike the remaining three black hooves. Although Joseph called that pig many names, mostly cuss words, its official moniker was Runt. He had been a runt at one point, but now he was two years old and the fattest pig Joseph owned.
Runt had been the sixteenth piglet of Old Maizy’s sixteenth litter; her last litter. She had died a few hours after giving birth, her seasoned heart unable to withstand the stress. Joseph had been quite fond of Old Maizy, and although he knew it to be irrational, he blamed Runt for her demise.
The mighty trees burst into flames
Their last stand as forest warriors
Against the sweeping shadows cast by the Ice Queen
Leaves of ember rain upon the ground
And a vibrant wildfire spreads abound
Across the rolling, tumbling hills
Reaching the distant glowing horizon
The warriors crash like a firework meteor
Lighting up the world before descending into brown
This is an exhilarating, interactive hike that is about ninetry percent creek-walking with no defined trail. However, it is ranked as a difficult hike, and rightfully so. The hiker accesses Mill Creek through on of two cemetaries. We reached it via Section 9 of Indian Mound Cemetary, and began our descent near a large tombstone labeled C.A. Parker.