Three years later

One rainy day, the spirit was exempt of his duties due to fever and stayed in his room. A somber mood filled the small japanese styled room. He opened the door and stepped out onto his balcony. Almost expecting to see the 'paper birds', as she had called them, he gazed out into the grey sky and blue shimmering ocean. The rain felt good on his face. The combination of the falling rain and sea salt smell must've been the reason for the lazy, somber mood. The wind was blowing slightly, and was brushing his shoulder lenght hair to the side. Everything was much quieter without her. Her effect on everyone in the bath house was still effervescent, even after three or four years; he was losing count. His fever was making everthing worse. He needed to touch something of hers; maybe it'd make him feel better. So, with that in his mind, he stood and walked to the large chest in his room.
Amongst the many things inside the chest, there were several letters with girlish handwriting addressed to himself and a small, very soft cloth bundle. He picked it up with shaking hands and began unwrap it, already knowing what was cradled inside. Once he opened it, he grinned, tears in his eyes. 'I knew I still had it.' In his hands sat a small pink tennishoe.

I'll write something

AS i'm in class, i just said to Becka "I'll write something"
So i will, because i don't wanna dissapoint anyone.
So here i sit, writing anything i feel like and getting nowhere...
But there is something quite awesome about this:
It sounds and looks somewhat poetic.
Doesn't it?
I have just decided to name a character CIEVOTH
but what shall this character look like?
The name was NEVER MEANT TO BE BORN>
and was on one of those 'type whatcha see' thingies
that becka was typing
to get on FANFICTION
and so now i have written something. Thank you for your time.
Emma

Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll

`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.