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 The note of a Memory

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AuteurBericht
Jude
.
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Jude

The note of a Memory UTL8oxA PROFILERecruit
Real Name : Sergeant Pepper Puppycat
Posts : 28
Points : 0
The note of a Memory UTL8oxA MAGICIAN
✦ CHARACTER ✦
Magic: Fire magic & Water magic
Klas: None right now
Partner: oh, you're losing sight, you're losing touch. All these little things seem to matter so much. That they confuse you. That I might lose you.

The note of a Memory Empty
BerichtOnderwerp: The note of a Memory   The note of a Memory Icon_minitimevr jun 30 2017, 17:05

The note of a Memory 37ba0c12

Blauw maanlicht schijnt door de hoge ramen van de lange gangen, de stenenvloer in een kil licht zettend. Een enkele kaars brandend aan de muur, als de broodkruimels uit lang vervlogen mythes. Het pad voor je aangevend naar een plek vol van eeuwen en eeuwen aan verhalen. De deur kraakte in zijn oude scharnieren. Hier was geen kaarslicht om de donkere schaduwen te verdrijven. Een zoetige doch muffe geur van de vele vergeelde perkamenten vullen je neus. Reusachtige kasten zuchten onder het gewicht van de vele informatie. Iets trekt je aandacht...
De geur. Van een net gedoofde kaars. Deze geur leid je tot de laatste kast. Ver weg, verborgen in een hoek van deze heilige bewaarplaats. Helder maanlicht schijnt neer op een tafel. Een stoel schuin van de tafel afgeschoven. De gedoofde kaars versmolten aan de tafel, alsof het daar uren heeft lopen branden. Onder de kaars licht een stuk perkament. Ink spetters verspreid over het papier en de tafel. Afkomstig van een nog na druipende schrijfveer. Alsof iemand in alle haast deze plek heeft verlaten...
Je neemt plaats op de stoel en buigt je over het perkament. Het is moeilijk te lezen in het schaarse licht van de maan. Het handschrift lijkt ouderwets en moeilijk te ontcijferen. Maar het is leesbaar...




I have lived more than a thousand years. I have died countless times. I forgot precisely how many times. My memory is an extraordinary thing, but it is not perfect. I am human.
The early lives blur a bit. The arc of your soul follows the pattern of each of your lives. It is macrocosmic. There was my childhood. There have been many childhoods. And even in the early part of my soul I reached adulthood many times. These days, in every one of my infancies, the memory comes faster. We go through the motions. We look oddly at the world around us.
We remember.
I say ‘we’ and I mean mysef, my soul, my selves, my many lives. I say ‘we’ and I also mean the other ones like me who have the Memory, the conscious record of experience on this earth that survives every death. There aren’t many, I know. Maybe one in a century, one born out of millions. We find one another rarely, but believe me, there are others. At least one of them has a memory far more extraordinary than mine.
I have been born and died many times in many places. The space between them is the same. I wasn’t on Nova to have a Day of Reading. I never saw the glory that was Assam. I never bowed to any of the first Seven. At that time I was scratching out a crop in Bena Rikashi, speaking a dialect unintelligible to the villages north and south. Only the Gods and the Demons of this universe can be counted on for all the thrilling parts. The great hits of history go along without the notice of most. I read about them in books like everybody else.
Sometimes I feel more akin to houses and trees than to my fellow human beings. I stand around watching the waves of people come and go. Their lives are short, but mine is long. Somtimes I imagine myself as a post driven into the ocean’s edge.
I’ve never had a child, and I’ve never gotten old. I don’t know why. I have seen beauty in countless things. I have fallen in love, and she is the one who endures. I killed her once and died for her many times and I still have nothing to show for it. I always search for her; I always remember her. I carry the hope that someday she will remember me…
The note of a Memory Initia10


ⓒMy Name Is Memory by Ann Brashares
Ik zou jullie vriendelijk willen verzoeken dit concept niet te kopiëren voor andere karakters op Starshine Academy, want zoals er staat beschreven is dit een zeldzaam fenomeen. De kans dat nog iemand op SSA dit heeft is één op een miljoen. Bij voorbaat dank voor het begrip.
Terug naar boven Ga naar beneden
Jude
.
.
Jude

The note of a Memory UTL8oxA PROFILERecruit
Real Name : Sergeant Pepper Puppycat
Posts : 28
Points : 0
The note of a Memory UTL8oxA MAGICIAN
✦ CHARACTER ✦
Magic: Fire magic & Water magic
Klas: None right now
Partner: oh, you're losing sight, you're losing touch. All these little things seem to matter so much. That they confuse you. That I might lose you.

The note of a Memory Empty
BerichtOnderwerp: Re: The note of a Memory   The note of a Memory Icon_minitimedo feb 28 2019, 02:21

The note of a Memory Mgvm6s10

His appearance was so intriguing but at the same time so incredibly ordinairy. His honeyblond locks swept aside like the long dry summer grass in the wind. A jawline so sharp you could cut your fingers on them, like a dagger. He was tall. But not taller than most. And a nose as straigt as the pillars of the temples on Puffoon. And yes the tattoos in his skin and the piercings through his flesh were noticable. Fascinating even, for the curious eye. But the most unordinary and intriguing in his whole appearance were those eyes. Brown en layered like the earth and stone all of humanity walked on. With long dark lashes like the trees sprouting to the heavens. Underneat two dark untamed eyebrows. Almost playful.

Those eyes were filled with secrets and story's, with visions and ventures, with hope and lack thereof. They could've been the eyes of a young woman. Fair and virtuous. At the start of a exciting and fulfilling life. Or those of an elderly man. Wise and worn-out. At the end of it all. Nothing left to see and nothing left to learn. With a completely lived life behind them. Looking into those eyes could fill your heart with the greatest joy and love or lay bare your deepest pain and sadness. Like a mirror to the soul of all humanity. Those eyes always knew. But never told you what they knew. Because no soul was worth the sacred demise of humanity. And no soul could look into the eyes of humanity itself.
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The note of a Memory

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 Soortgelijke onderwerpen

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» A old memory
» Lost The Memory
» My poisoned memory.
» Hate and memory
» Memory (open)

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