<style type="text/css">.template1_container {background: #fff;/*background color*/ width: 500px;border: 8px solid #000; /*border width, style, and color*/ color: #000;/* message font color*/font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; /*message font size and face*/ padding: 15px;text-align: justify;box-shadow: inset 0 0 2px 2px #000;}.template1_name {text-align: center;color: #000;/* name font color*/ font: 26px 'Times New Roman', serif;/* name font size and face*/padding-top: 10px;padding-right: 10px;}.template1_quote {text-align: center;font-style: italic;}</style><center><div class="template1_container">Stories.
Stories were rooted to Kha's existance. His mother's sweet voice drifted across his ears once upon a time to tell him of his parents rule. King and Queen of the forbidden dale. Voices of familiar but lost equine drift slowly through darkened, changed forest of new land tell stories of angered fairies ripping magic from their grasps. The mark across his ghostly cheek speaks stories of a lost child amongst chaos, stuck on a plane between the dead and living floating silently. His presence had been caught between lovers and traitors alike telling stories of their lives in quiet whispers. For ages the forgotten ghost boy drifted between stories, often becoming the center of his own. Stories of a child haunting the otherwise uneventful forest.
So, when he hears the melodic chime and sees the flickering light blink lazily infront of his bored, dull eyes he does not dismiss it like many would. After all if he could remain as a child after years of adult hood in this dull, translucent form why couldn't other mystical, magical beings exist in a world full of white light. His eyes snap to attention as the light begins to bounce away from him, flickering like a bulb tightened to quickly that it didnt quiet connect with the energy that fueled it. His tail flicks softly at his legs as he moves from his perch for the first time in days. What could it hurt to follow?
The closer he seemed to get the farther the light seemed to wander. A distant story of it's own, told through a melody of soft lingering music, lying in its wake. The light seemed to pull him in which only picked at his curiosity more and more. Nothing in all his years had eluded him quiet so easily, especially in his own forest. It left feelings of wonderment, contentment, happiness, sadness, uncertainty, and possibilities crawling through his ghostly nerves.
His hooves fell against the earth silently in utter chaos of nerves. Until suddenly the light blinked out of existance. A life there and then gone. Memories flooded his mind as he continued into the vast darkness of heavy tree limbs infront of him. His mothers face, his fathers face, the existance of Beqanna there and then gone, the lone mare upon the shore calling him from existance, the soft face of the girl who existed in the living world, the many faces of those he haunted out of his forest so that he could live in solitude, the face of the only possible friend he could of had had he not grown bored - or maybe scared - and chased her away too.
He pulled up short as the door appeared before him, crowned with vines of ghostly darkness. Confusion wrapped around his mind and his eyes grew wide. How could this be? This what not apart of his world! He crushed his eyes against each other as his breathing became unsteady - that is it would of if he actually needed to breath. He forced his ghostly head into the dark, broken wood before him, searching behind the lonely door.
Nothing.
Darkness.
He yanked his head back, his ears pinning to his head. This is not how it would work. If he wanted to know what layed beyond the bouncing white light, and the haunting door he would need to allow himself to accept what was and what is. He closed his eyes one last time, softer this time, and took a slow steady breath allowing himself to feel the earth beneath his hooves and the wood upon his nose. He became one with the living and the door opened slowly as if it had never been closed to begin with, and with out a second hesitation in he went.<div class="template1_name">KHA</div><div class="template1_quote">it doesn't matter what world you live in; it only matters what world lives in you</div></div></center>
Stories were rooted to Kha's existance. His mother's sweet voice drifted across his ears once upon a time to tell him of his parents rule. King and Queen of the forbidden dale. Voices of familiar but lost equine drift slowly through darkened, changed forest of new land tell stories of angered fairies ripping magic from their grasps. The mark across his ghostly cheek speaks stories of a lost child amongst chaos, stuck on a plane between the dead and living floating silently. His presence had been caught between lovers and traitors alike telling stories of their lives in quiet whispers. For ages the forgotten ghost boy drifted between stories, often becoming the center of his own. Stories of a child haunting the otherwise uneventful forest.
So, when he hears the melodic chime and sees the flickering light blink lazily infront of his bored, dull eyes he does not dismiss it like many would. After all if he could remain as a child after years of adult hood in this dull, translucent form why couldn't other mystical, magical beings exist in a world full of white light. His eyes snap to attention as the light begins to bounce away from him, flickering like a bulb tightened to quickly that it didnt quiet connect with the energy that fueled it. His tail flicks softly at his legs as he moves from his perch for the first time in days. What could it hurt to follow?
The closer he seemed to get the farther the light seemed to wander. A distant story of it's own, told through a melody of soft lingering music, lying in its wake. The light seemed to pull him in which only picked at his curiosity more and more. Nothing in all his years had eluded him quiet so easily, especially in his own forest. It left feelings of wonderment, contentment, happiness, sadness, uncertainty, and possibilities crawling through his ghostly nerves.
His hooves fell against the earth silently in utter chaos of nerves. Until suddenly the light blinked out of existance. A life there and then gone. Memories flooded his mind as he continued into the vast darkness of heavy tree limbs infront of him. His mothers face, his fathers face, the existance of Beqanna there and then gone, the lone mare upon the shore calling him from existance, the soft face of the girl who existed in the living world, the many faces of those he haunted out of his forest so that he could live in solitude, the face of the only possible friend he could of had had he not grown bored - or maybe scared - and chased her away too.
He pulled up short as the door appeared before him, crowned with vines of ghostly darkness. Confusion wrapped around his mind and his eyes grew wide. How could this be? This what not apart of his world! He crushed his eyes against each other as his breathing became unsteady - that is it would of if he actually needed to breath. He forced his ghostly head into the dark, broken wood before him, searching behind the lonely door.
Nothing.
Darkness.
He yanked his head back, his ears pinning to his head. This is not how it would work. If he wanted to know what layed beyond the bouncing white light, and the haunting door he would need to allow himself to accept what was and what is. He closed his eyes one last time, softer this time, and took a slow steady breath allowing himself to feel the earth beneath his hooves and the wood upon his nose. He became one with the living and the door opened slowly as if it had never been closed to begin with, and with out a second hesitation in he went.<div class="template1_name">KHA</div><div class="template1_quote">it doesn't matter what world you live in; it only matters what world lives in you</div></div></center>