Hachikō wrote:xx the sailboat|the sea xx
story? C:
xx the sailboat|the sea xx 
Listen to this as you read.
x || x
A simple boat.
Floating on a simple sea.
Full of such calm colors.
Gentle kindess flowing with the wind.
A stunning sun held by clouds high above.
An ocean music of noise.
Foggy morning haze, rolling off the waves.
Funny, how something so peaceful
can go so wrong.
______________
The boat rocked back and forth gently, the waves lolling it almost into a deep sleep. The chipped, white and blue paint on its wood held fast, strongly as possible, as to retain some glory. Flying high above, the once white sail caught as much wind as possible in its folds, so to move along more quickly. The ocean was light, beautiful, stunning. It reflected all, everything that was caught in its moist eyes.
The serenity of morning continued on for what seemed like days; and perhaps it had been.Time was lost when the ocean is all that can be seen, stretching so very far, into our very dreams. Perhaps that's where all dreams come from; the ocean itself. They float in on a lolling tide, gracing us.
What then, does that make nightmares? They cannot simply flow with dreams, impossible!
Well, it was soon found out how.
The ocean acted as such a lush mirror, reflecting beauty. It was all so peaceful, until blots of black started to appear, flawing the mirror. Winds started to rock the small boat, so tiny on such a vast ocean. Lightning ran across the sky as messengers above, thunder grumbling after it, as if to make it move faster. The little boat swayed from side to side hopelessly. Night seemed to capture the sky as the black mass crawled over it. It soon came closer, and closer, and closer.
The gales racked the boat, removing some of the wood, ripping off the paint, tattering the sail. Lightning struck the ocean close to it, waves crying out in pain. The ocean started to turn against the boat, such a small speck of white on a large background of black. Thunder started to roar now, enraged by something or another. The storm raged, tossing the boat from one wave to another, almost tipping it.
By the end of the darkness, the small boat was left in tatters. The horribleness of the moments just behind stuck onto its remaining wooden pieces as it attempted to sail on, to the next mind it must enter.
It flowed into the sleeping mind, showing them what it had encountered.
And such is a nightmare.
______
Guys.
I really have no idea.
ROFL.
x || x
A simple boat.
Floating on a simple sea.
Full of such calm colors.
Gentle kindess flowing with the wind.
A stunning sun held by clouds high above.
An ocean music of noise.
Foggy morning haze, rolling off the waves.
Funny, how something so peaceful
can go so wrong.
______________
The boat rocked back and forth gently, the waves lolling it almost into a deep sleep. The chipped, white and blue paint on its wood held fast, strongly as possible, as to retain some glory. Flying high above, the once white sail caught as much wind as possible in its folds, so to move along more quickly. The ocean was light, beautiful, stunning. It reflected all, everything that was caught in its moist eyes.
The serenity of morning continued on for what seemed like days; and perhaps it had been.Time was lost when the ocean is all that can be seen, stretching so very far, into our very dreams. Perhaps that's where all dreams come from; the ocean itself. They float in on a lolling tide, gracing us.
What then, does that make nightmares? They cannot simply flow with dreams, impossible!
Well, it was soon found out how.
The ocean acted as such a lush mirror, reflecting beauty. It was all so peaceful, until blots of black started to appear, flawing the mirror. Winds started to rock the small boat, so tiny on such a vast ocean. Lightning ran across the sky as messengers above, thunder grumbling after it, as if to make it move faster. The little boat swayed from side to side hopelessly. Night seemed to capture the sky as the black mass crawled over it. It soon came closer, and closer, and closer.
The gales racked the boat, removing some of the wood, ripping off the paint, tattering the sail. Lightning struck the ocean close to it, waves crying out in pain. The ocean started to turn against the boat, such a small speck of white on a large background of black. Thunder started to roar now, enraged by something or another. The storm raged, tossing the boat from one wave to another, almost tipping it.
By the end of the darkness, the small boat was left in tatters. The horribleness of the moments just behind stuck onto its remaining wooden pieces as it attempted to sail on, to the next mind it must enter.
It flowed into the sleeping mind, showing them what it had encountered.
And such is a nightmare.
______
Guys.
I really have no idea.
ROFL.
Please and thank you 
.....
