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Thought...Thought… Alex Potter The process of thought it not a simple task. Thought itself is not a simple task. It takes those wise enough and willing enough to go through its hardships. As a matter of fact, the author of this very piece is thinking to write about thinking. It is a tool, not so much a process. It requires the knowledge to do so.Thought...
You see, one cannot think without the knowledge to do so. Its not a “how do I think” it is more so a “what do I think about”. To think about nothing is actually thinking about everything because everything has a nothing and nothing is everything. To think about this, you
by ~plagued111
Chapter fiveChapter FiveChapter five
Cold. That was my first thought. It was cold, and I couldn’t feel my arms. My vision was blurry, so I dared not look around. Ouch. That was my second thought; my stomach was killing me. When I did look down, but only because of fatigue, I saw a crude bandage wrapped around my torso.
Using my peripheral vision, I saw my elbows on each side, and my fore arm rising above them. Using the little energy I had left, I looked around. Stone walls decorated with a greenish yellow moss formed a cage that had a barred window in the top right side of the room. Because of the brightness of t
by ~plagued111
Plagues of Kvar: Ch. FourChapter FourPlagues of Kvar: Ch. Four
We approached the docks of Teirmok, and no damage had been done. The town was just as we had left it, except the castle had little more left to be constructed. It was still adorned in black, and the people were still looking upset. Even from hundreds of yards off the coast, I could tell that the people were still very upset. But hell, who wouldn’t be after a horrible course of battles. First, the Fog, then the Darkest Shores that we had just visited, and then after that, we were to fight a battle in the Abandoned Range, and so the town was rightfully upset with the past weeks; and indeed, they were just
by ~plagued111
Chapter Three of my BookThe silver moonlight brushed the weary faces of soldiers and horses. The Ships of the armada appeared as if they were ethereal, and weapons appeared silver. The white stone courtyard gleamed in the profound light, and the fountain was even more majestic in moonlight than in actual day. Faurai was safely in her quarters, sleeping now that it was little after ten o’clock. The soldiers crept silently, as not to wake civilians, and the only noise was the sound of blood waves crashing onto the shore. The scene was as if from a horror story and we acted as if it was such. We boarded the ships silently, and we took provisions enough to lChapter Three of my Book
by ~plagued111
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