a 116-year-old ragamuffin from The Heights of Imagination

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"Dont wait for oppertunities to come knocking at your doorstep, make them with your own hands."

Im not gonna be on protag much more. My last posts are a flavour of a story Im writing. My account will remain, cause many old stories are here and no where else Also, Id like people to be able to read them whenever they want. (hope Im not breaking a rule...) 

No no...Im not giving up writing...Id die if I did!!! Just going solo. 

Last quote-
"Propel into the future in hand with the present." 

Never forget your wolfy friend! (heck Ill still come online to check comments and read works!)

With luck love and life
- X

One last story...

There was once a land, in which the worth of a person was calculated by the wonderful stories they could wrote. They wrote and wrote and wrote, and finally, there was no more paper and ink to write with. Some screamed, cried and stole from others...some crawled away and were never seen again. Few...very few, though saddened, wouldn't stop writing. They wrote with thin rocks on leaves...and when autumn came and all the leaves fell from the trees, they etched their words on the tree barks, and as the trees grew pale and sick, they carved their storied onto rocks, and as the rocks crumbled, they molded the very clouds into words within the great vast sky. They continued this ancient art past the boundries of possibility, but the world changed. Scarcity had thrown the human race into a war of greed, to gain the most luxuries one could dream of. The writers passed away with old age, but not without passing their strange traditions to their children, and grandchildren and so forth. With each generation, the imagination and ideas flourished like a fountain of words and letters.
We are the children of these great old men. Honour their spirit, and NEVER GIVE UP. Even if your fingers break and pens crack, write, imagine and create, until time itself falls apart...

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