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I am so tired of having to pay for everything in bitter coin. We have managed to lose Robyn's cat. On Saturday she managed to slip out unseen, despite our stringent precations, when we were bringing in the groceries. She must have bolted out the door at the last second, and we didn't notice. It was an hour later when we realized she was gone; by that time it was dark and snowing heavily. We went out and searched at intervals all evening, yelling her name, and again the next day, but to no avail. She has disappeared as if she never was here at all. We keep looking, even though there has been no sign of her at all---knowing myself, I always shall. We have notified the neighbours, but it is a long shot at best. She is a young, small, gentle cat, very pretty but rather feather-headed, who has never been cold or hungry or, indeed, outside before.She might have been lucky enough to find shelter, but probably not. I know she is probably not coming back, for the woods are vast and dark and filled with creatures she would not have the sense to avoid, and she is such a little cat.She gambled with life, as do we all, and has possibly lost, as, indeed, we all do in the end. Robyn will be heart-broken, and I will always be haunted by the shade of a sweet little cat that I could not protect from herself. Tags: blackness everywhere Current Location: work Current Mood: depressed Current Music: clinic sounds
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Brow silver-bound, upon a throne I sat with good intent--- but heedless they were. Justice,truth,honour, all debased until the dream striven for faded and was naught. Alone now I sit while heaven laughs. My own folly, true enough--- only fools trade freedom for golden shackles, however well-meant the act. Grey glimmer at the edge of sight; a yellow-eyed wraith speaks in the black "Come away out of the light. Time to run under the moon." "Too old am I now to run with the pack.' 'We two alone then. Come.' Morning light awakened spreads. Two shadows of the night stand alone. The voice at my shoulder rasps "Summer is done. Winter is upon the wind." I turn to smile into golden eyes, fangs brushing lips. "No matter. We northern-born fight better in the cold.' copyright EMRC 2007 Current Location: home Current Mood: contemplative
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