Author has written 23 stories for Fantasy, General, General, Action, Sci-Fi, Love, War, Young Adult, and Haiku. Name: If you don't know it already, then your not going to
Age: Younger than I'd like
Friends: You know who you are.
School: Smiths Hill
Location: Australia
Fav Pastime: READING, duh
Fav Authors: If I listed them, we'd be here for several mellenia
Fav Pairing: Harry/Draco (if ayone dare sugest LotR pairings are good I will wring your neck, personaly)
Fav Websites: FictionPress.net, FanFiction.net, Lordoftherings.net, ujournal.org, livejournal.com, various RPG's, freewebs.com, quizilla.com .....
Fav Subject: Painting
Hair: Light Brown... natural, never been anything else.
Eyes: Should be greener (green/blue)
Height: Too short
I have been told that people's writing reflects what they read. In that case anything I write should be a crazy mix of fantasy novels, history texts and scientific theorems. However I tend to write rather depressing and badly worded poetry.
I have also been told that people's writing expresses what they experience. I write about war, famine, love, torture and death. I haven't fought in war, I'm not starving, I haven't fallen in love, the FBI hasn't caught me yet and I'm still alive.
Finally I have been told that people's writing is like imagery, it presents something, an idea or situation in words that have no particular likeness to it. Perhaps this is where I fit. I am write poetry, sad depressing stuff and start stories (I don't finish them).
But I know that what I write is important to me, you might not see any purpose or order and it may seem strange and incoherent. However, inside each word is love for what I have written, and inside each meaning is a depth of emotion that can not be fully justified by words.
My favorite stories vary between good and so-amazing-there-are-no-words-to-fit.... my favorite authors are mostly catagorised with the amazing grade.
I also have a ffnet acount, if you feel in the mood for bad HP fanfic.
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Maybe the world will end while I'm alive,
Maybe someone will kill me first,
Maybe I'll die from deseiase or age,
But wherever I am,
I want to be with you.
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There is no hope in freedom,
Because freedom is dead.
There is no hope in slavery,
Because slavery is death.
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Maybe.
The word that haunts my footsteps.
The word that rules my life
Maybe.
It whispers in the halls,
Yells in the streets,
Maybe.
Maybe someday I'll be free.
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From now on, all new poetry and stories will be found at:
http://www.deadjournal.com/~greyrainbow,
or http://www.ujournal.org/~everbloom |
FictionPress.com - let the words flow
