Death Does Not Become Me....

Sometimes I have so much going on in my head, I don't know where to start. I'm supposed to write in one of these things to help sort through the garblemess of my brain, but I don't think it's helping much. Everyone and everything changes. Constantly. You have to hang on for the ride, and accept it when it's your turn. My world flippy-flopped in a time and place called Sea-at-tel. I've met a new partner in crime, as well, and even though his face is familiar, it could never match to my spikey-haired lover. And it feels good to have a Lime-eyed Fan Club. The trip was ... a hurdle to say the least. I can barely describe half of what I saw, and can't fathom how people live in a day and age like that. Magic... oh magic, how they do without! I wish not to live to that time and place where I can't use the power given to me at birth. My chronicles of Sea-at-tel will be posted within the next few publications of the Times if you care to know of a w

Before I leave for Sea-at-tel, here's a story to hold you over. It's a mooshy story, the kind that girls like me fall for. The Dog and the Maiden There was once a poor gypsy with a very beautiful daughter, whom he guarded like the apple of his eye, for he wanted to marry her to a chieftain. So he always kept her in the tent when the lads and lasses sat an evening by the fire and told stories, or beguiled the time with play and dance. Only a dog was the constant companion of this poor maiden. No one knew whom the dog belonged to, or where he came from. He had joined the band once, and thenceforth continued the trusty companion of the poor beautiful maiden. It befell once that her father must go to a far city, to sell there his besoms, baskets, spoons, and troughs. He left his daughter with the other women in the tents on the heath, and set out with the men for the city. This troubled the poor girl greatly, for no one would speak to her, as all the women envied her for her beaut