the goblin was thinking back this morning to the last time he saw his mother in the home, merlin's cave he called it, she was happy to see him, the goblin could see that, as she was sat up in the bed and tried to talk, not that she could, only that her head bobbed forward with each word like sound like that seemed like little bullets from a steady machine gun, dad fed bits of a cut pear to her mouth and, at times, she had enough strength to take one for herself from the small while plate placed in on her lap in the dull interior of her bedroom, cell room, whatever they call them then, the day was gray the goblin remembers, this ceremonial like ritual never changed much, the pear, a freshly squeezed orange juice and the two of us there visiting her in a very long goodbye, "...it just was, and we were there to see it out as always..." said the goblin once more, adding "...the feeling even now is one of depth, sobriety, and silence, I kissed her forehead giving my promise to return..." recalled the goblin, who remembered walking away up the corridor with dad and saying to him "...you know dad, it could be so much worse, how lucky we are then aren't we..." and with that dad would push those coded buttons on the ever locked door releasing us, to the waiting taxi, only to shut tight behind us, as the taxi pulled us away one more time

I found teh ability to jump into the pictures!!!!

they scare me.... ... ... ... .. .. . .. . . .. .

"i don't like reality" the spirit spoke while realizing she didn't like many things. "reality is meant to be good. they tell you when your a child to 'stop day dreaming and come back to reality'. I was once told reality is safer. SAFER? hark safer indeed. reality is but a continuous cycle of wrongs with a small gleam of hope that is taken away in an instant. I myself prefer the fantasy's of my nightmares over the fiction that is reality."

"Do you know the difference between a ghost and a spirit?" the spirit mused with a smile as she reappeared. "and by ghosts i do not mean children in costume upon all hallows, nor the fathomed creatures of 'screamer' videos scattered across the internet. no those are not ghosts. and, since upon the thought, ghosts nor spirits need be very scary. after all, what is more scarier then every day life knowing that each moment could be your last? So i ask again, do you know what the difference between a ghost and a spirit is?

("...amazing picture, don't trust me to keep my hands to myself then...." said the goblin who envisaged ghosts differently to the spirit here, saying "...I am a little bit more mundane here, for me the borderline between ghost and memory is very thin, it's very subjective to say real/false here, though I think I've explained this viewpoint before, but if not, here's another post then, but I don't think I can explain this objectively at all..." and as for the spirits then they too were perhaps just something else again, but they were not the goblin own ghosts for sure)

"...no problem everyone, my fault, I guess I am pretty random too..." said the goblin looking at that falling snow through the large French Windows where only a fair sized yellow "M" stuck tight to the frozen glass betrayed any reality, that "growing old cold reality" the goblin tried so hard to counter balance here, "...I deal with ghosts, most writers do, they pop up offering their candidacy whenever I ask myself "what in my life is worth posting", that is, as I sift through my thoughts as if to prove, to myself at least, that I too am not quite as dead as them yet, meanwhile the constant falling snow seemed an ever closing curtain that never quite closes on the growing cold outside

the goblin is thinking of those ghosts in the past again and how stupid it is now to try to justify himself to them saying "...what can one ever do otherwise to what one has done, yes there's are always observations with hindsight but none of them will ever change what happened..." as even now those ghosts just seemed to have their palms outstretched towards in goblin in a wish to be paid, "...so what coins do I place on your eyes then to pay that ferryman to send you on then..." the goblin asked into the silence of their faces

"Is it odd for one such as I, a spirit, to have ghosts? Many have told me yes, for what would i have ghosts about? But this just proves you can never know a person. Never. or, shall i say in my own case, a spirit. and again, in the cases of others, goblins, chameleons, all beings. But i protest, to know why i would have such ghosts would be a gift. Why do any have ghosts? simply because they have secrets. a person without secrets has no ghosts then? you may ask, and again i shall say no for they have secrets too, they just have not been asked about them. someone may see something and forever be haunted about it but never speak of it. someone too may see something, speak of it, yet still forever be haunted. those ghosts are not dangerous, however, if you know how to use them wisely. and i do not mean use as in force, oh no! for those very beings those very ghosts want nothing more than to be used in some way." the spirit started to hum to herself as she thought on. "and i shall always use them wisely."

The spirits mind goes back to her life from whence she come. Her mind hither on the day where it was she who was called forth for being strange, for being a freak. "We studied many things. We all loved them so, but I, aye I, seemed to be the strangest. this is, of course, their opinion, for i would claim nothing over them, even such as that." the spirit laughed, almost a giggle though she would never giggle, at the thought. "On with the tale. I was chosen, as freak and strange, to be drawn up from the norm and strike fear into their hearts. why? Even I do not know but something of them called for fear and they knew i could deliver it i suppose. And so i set forth on my task. Why? simply because now i was needed, now life was given to me in the form of Fear. oh fear that had been my friend for so long, fear that i seemingly no longer felt, now came to give life to me! i did my best, oh my best, and such horrid images were then on painted in words..."

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Dumping your past into posts to get rid of the past?

"...one can't get rid of ones past..." replied the goblin but the goblin knew that he couldn't explain "communicating and coming to terms with ones past", though it still didn't stop him wanting to try here saying "...most people have memories but when one has a "shared life" they're not neatly buried and forgotten in the back of ones mind somewhere as one digs them up borrowing from them to create ones works as others would create books, paintings, music, poems or whatever I imagine...", and the goblin knew he could give endless examples but instead the goblin just continued "...the oddest sensation is when one is borrowing something and its ghost enters into focus and one is then communicating with it, that is, one is no longer simply writing about "ones past" in third person, one is staring that ghost in the face while reinforcing that ghost in ones mind with ones pen communicating with it like here and now, so perhaps that's why I find writing so much more exacting than thinking, as if all this were some written tally of my thoughts taken from these communications then..." and with that the goblin crystallized his view saying "...if actors can't play the part for real unless they get into the part, writers are probably the same..."

"...I suppose the newest stuff gets posted up here soon enough, but there isn't anything really "new" as even my newest "text" usually comes from something I wrote or thought from somewhere or sometime before if I allow myself think about it like that that is..." the goblin's coffee seems to float the text on here, the goblin continued "...ah but that's the advantage of being anonymous on the Internet, because the moment one starts to care about whether one is, or isn't, rehashing, one just becomes hindered, as if somehow looking over ones shoulder all the time, caring when how could it matter if one is entirely unknown, moreover, in polishing the idea, in its being rewritten, it often turns into a different creature form its parent ..." ventured the goblin who borrowed from himself often, and without shame that the goblin did so, in that, his pen just followed his mind that often went around in circles like this

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You are very weird.

"...the question then would be would you like to think "normally" then..." wondered the goblin somehow knowing that that wasn't what he wanted for himself, "...imagination tells you that there's more to life than this "dailylife", and that, at every turning along the road, one has abnormal thoughts that ones reason keeps in check and under control..." the goblin paused trying to find the right words to explain that balance between ones "imagination" on the one side, and ones "reason" on the other, and then continued "...what if "imagination" were like the waves and "reason" was like gravity, where those waves of imagination keep washing up all types of thoughts onto the shore of ones mind, where the gravity of ones reason either anchored them to beach there, or let them roll back into the sea to be washed up again in a different way with the next wave of imagination, either to be anchored or wash back again, so this perhaps for me is my mind then, abnormal perhaps..." at which point the goblin asked again "...do you still want to be thinking "normally", or do you want more from your imagination then..."

"bah normalcy!" yelled the spirit standing up now. "it is nothing but a word! its own definiton can say nothing but said word! to be normal is to be nothing. why would one wish to be normal? when normal its self is strange? to say you are normal, is to say you are as others, but no two are alike! no matter how much you wish it. one can look alike and act alike but never think alike. two brains are not the same. you can not think the same word the same sound the same image at the same time. to be normal is to be same and to be same is nonexistent."

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definition of "being normal" then goblin?

"...easy..." replied the goblin continuing "..."being normal", is simply "being not abnormal enough for others to notice", whereas "acting normal" was a dead giveaway that something was amiss here...", so the goblin was normal for the Internet he imagined, save when he was wondering if Dr Who would be the narrator for the BBC's "when humans walked on Earth" series, somehow the phrase "dust to dust ashes to ashes and now petrol to petrol" was just rolling off Dr Who's narrating lips now, the more the goblin's mind delved upon the subject of global warming, climate change, and possible mass extinction here that is, "...what a strange yet fitting end it would be then, if the ice age did occur in our time..." uttered the goblin at it, in fact, all he actually knew was that he wanted to know more, and besides the bistro morning needed some excuse for escape then


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