Post/Author/DateTime	Post
Leonidas Nightingale 06-25-04, 04:29 AM	Out of sheer nothingness a tall figure strode at once across a green and recently mowed lawn. In his gloved hand he had a dark-brown walking stick, his other hand, also gloved carried a blush red apple, recently taken from a nearby tree. His trousers where classy brown coloured and a tall coat of purple reached down to just above his knee. Scanning the surrounding apple orchard and the adjacent road with his blue, greenish eyes a smile curved around the corners of his mouth while his curly light red hear made the man an even more happy apparition. “There is no such thing in life compared to pure imagination, living there you will be free if you truly wish to be.” A bird looked at him, thinking ‘he is not right in the head, taking like this against no-one and only himself’. “No little bird, I am as wise as you might think me I am but for certain I relish the good and nice things of life. My imagination gives me the power to do all I want and to create all I like. Look, do you like a peach better.” And at the same moment the apple in his white-gloved hand turned into a shining red and orange peach, the same bite which was taken out of the apple could also be seen in the soft and sweat peach. “You see little bird, just imagine what you want and this orchard will be like the paradise all mankind sought for during their age-long existence. See the little stream over there, to you it must look like nothing, it is a mere brook, water standing still, greenish and smelling. But maybe you like to see it is a streaming creek, with some small rapids and a few large boulders, washed by the water.” And so the nightingale sitting on his branch blinked his black little eyes and all of a sudden the greenish brook had transformed into a raging little torrent, just a few feet wide. “How did you do that, are you a magician of some sort?” the bird asked the man. “No, no, certainly not. I am just an ordinary man like you are just an ordinary bird. I walk the lands, live in my own world, am perfectly free, free as you are whenever you are flying trough the skies.” The man looked at the bird while he walked, step by step backwards to a little pond like stretch of the creek. “ You could do it, just imagine and you are free.” “Look out, the stream must be icy cold, it has just descended from a mountain!” The bird screamed at the purple coated gentleman but alas, too late he already tumbled, backwards into the water. “Don’t worry, just imagine the water is warm and you will not feel the cold because it is not there anymore.” And so the bird made himself fall of the branch and spread its wings flying towards the creek and the pond with the curious man sitting in the stream. The nightingale landed on a stone in the creek and tipped the end of his left wing into the water, withdrawing it as soon as he had touched it. “Och, that is cold, how on earth can you sit there, you must be freezing.” “I am not, because my water is not cold but nicely warm.” “You are mad, just mad, the water is cold like ice, your legs will freeze off if you don’t come out quickly.” “You forget mine water is warm because I imagine it to be. Your water is cold because you imagine it to be cold. Just imagine what you want and believe it and all will be as you like. Paradise will be within your grasp and you will be happy forever.” “All right,” the bride said ”let me try. I am getting pretty cold with the sun behind that cloud. I want the cloud to disappear.” And the nightingale closed his eyes and opened them again but the sun was still covered by the cloud. “You did not believe what you imagined here, let me do it.” And the man pointed his stick at the cloud which promptly evaporated bathing the countryside in the warm rays of sunlight. “Here now you try it.” And with another swing of his walking stick the cloud covered the sun again and the area cooled down once again. “Hey, why did you do that, I was just enjoying the warmth.” An angry bird shouted at the man in the pond.” All right, I will try.” “But remember, believe what you are imagining.” The nightingale, strained himself to the absolute limit, his head ran red and then, the cloud disappeared showing the sun. “I can, I can, I can do it. I made the sun shine.” And the bird jumped all over his rock, in the middle of a sunbathed stream. “You see, it is that difficult to live the life of luxury, you can be as free as you wish to be. “ And so the bird jumped into the creek, now running with warm water to bath besides his new found friend. “Do you mind if I call you Florence, you little nightingale. Please sing us a song.” And while the bird sang and the man murmured a little tune both of them enjoyed the warm water and the sun. “Come on Florence let us run ourselves dry in those fields filled with gold grain and then eat at the mill, I think the miller might invite us. I already smell the bread he has backed for us.” And so the bird and the man heaved themselves out of the stream to stand eye to an eye with an unknown man.
Leonidas Nightingale 06-25-04, 05:20 AM	Come on!. If 9 people can read this thread one of them can certainly continue the story I started with this. Just fall in and bring it to whatever point you want to with your post. Hope to see you soon....
Leonidas Nightingale 06-28-04, 02:30 AM	so, no one is interested in writing a bit fantasy stuff?