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 Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2008 3:43 pm
It wasn't very common that you found an old cemetary on the borders of the suburbs. It seamed these days anything that was older then ten years was torn down and turned into a supermarket. But this was one of those strange old towns that liked to keep there herritage. Though unlucky for the cemetary itself it wasn't 'kept'. Leaves had piled up and degrated over the years, and half the doors to the crypts were hanging off by one hinge. Even most of the more prominate headstones had crumbled into near rubble. It was quite a depressing gloomy place for anyone to be even for those whom were undead.
It was prehaps several years after he had been dead and buried with his master- a former policeman of the times. That a strange new precence seamed to roll over the graveyard like a giant blackout. A powerful shaman woman of the islands had traveled to these lands and choose this place to be her resting site- not really by choice. It was a murder most foul; but something happened when her cold body hit the soils of the earth. A slight spark of her life had been passed onto some of the purest dwellers. One was a dog named Scraps. The others though not of the flesh still got her power. The never ending ivy- and the one red rose that sprang up from where she had died.
This praytell is why the townfolk had never changed the land to this day. They were half afraid of the curse and when troden onto the land were scared off by the only creature who just wanted a friend. It was ashame how close minded the people were. He was only a young dog (or so he thought). He couldn't quite comprehend that he was hundreds of years old; or that anything dramatic was really wrong with him. When he awoke centuries ago he had lost all recolection of his past life and owner. He only knew that he was a dog and that he wanted friends. Shame for the poor thing that even after hundreds of years nobody had been brave enough to be his. And too this day sits by the rose and waits for anyone to play with.
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Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2008 4:06 pm
Fringe had always been curious, wich wasnt very uncommon for a dog. Infact the thing was most curious about, was the most common thing people and dogs alike tended to be curious about. It wasnt a thing, it was a place. The cemetary always raised questions in Fringe's mind. 'Was there really a ghost dog? Did he attack the poor souls that entered his cemetary, and chew on their bones?' Fringe shivered at the gruesome thought. He had decided it was finally time to put the stories to the test, and didn't need negative ideas to stop him. Stopping at the iron fence Fringe looked in.
((dinner time so i guess i will let u post, brb)
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Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2008 4:31 pm
The dog blinked- if he could as his head was hung over the rose again looking into it's beauty. If he had a tear for every moment he had sat there prehaps there would have been a flood. But like his life his tears had been dried out as well. Though he still didn't give up hope as his own red eyes echo'd the flower before him. In his life they had been blue- but in his death and rebirth they had turned the natural color of the witches flower. Maybe his own curse for being forced to do something so unatural as being a walking skeliton.
He didn't know, and he never asked. Prehaps because he had never met anyone too. The dead dog then lifted his head up, funny that even though he had no organs he could still smell things. Another dog? A friend...or he dropped his head down in depression. Sombody to scream and run away from the one thing unatural that this world seamed to behold. Who was he to risk the loneness? Maybe this one would be differnt?
Then with life-like exuberance ran towards the fencing in the gates. If anyone on the other side been watching they only would have seen a pile of bones rushing at them at full gust.
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Posted: Wed Jun 11, 2008 7:51 pm
((sorry i have been a tad busy))
Looking into the grave yard Fringe saw only grave stones and crypts. What makes this place so special? The only thing he noticed that was different about it was that no one bothered to take care of this place. To enter, or not to enter? He was just about to take his first step when he saw... something coming towards him. He knew the shape looked familiar....and for some odd reason reminded him of turkey... BONES! The thing coming towards him was a large pile of bones. Fringe didn't know what to do. His original reaction would be to run, but he was so frightened that he couldnt move. He stood hoping that it was not coming for him.
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Posted: Fri Jun 13, 2008 9:32 pm
The dead dog kept running, his bones clanking together with each stride. And when he saw the other dog standing by the bars- waiting. He couldn't be more then over joyed. Did he finally have a friend? A special somebody to play with?! With his boney tail clacking behind him with each wave behind his bum he finally settled on the other side of the bars.
He must have been some sight to behold. His red eyes being held in place by nothing and moving without even the hint of muscle. Not to mention the pure lack of fur and body. He let out a strange and ghostly bark then pushed himself bone by bone threw the bars till he was finally out on the other side of the cemetary looking dead set into the other dogs eyes. He didn't know what to really say. This after all had been the longest conversation he'd ever had since he had risen from the grave.
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