Tayla's Lyrics, Poem and Things...

Aw, thanks Cris

No problem

Amazing work as always, keep 'em coming

I've been messing around on Photoshop and GIMP again here is some stuff I've come up with

Lacuna Coil;



Draconian;



L'ame Immortelle;







Theatres Des Vampires;

Within Temptation;

Cool, so you've been messing around with the master transparency? That's probably the most usefull tool of all time.

Nope, I've messed around with the Illusion and Make Seamless tools. It's on GIMP.

Tayla,I love all what i`m seeing her.Great job

Thankyou Cris!!

I love the Lisa and Sonja ones

Thankyou Maurice

Lacuna Coil:



After Forever:



Within Temptation:

Great job Tay!I really love the onwe with Floor but I also like the Sharon one!And the Cristina one is also lovely

Thankyou Cris!!

Under A Sky Of Dust

We are looking for the truth and the answers
The way to find peace within our souls
To let everything go
Sitting by the sea with ourselves
Watching the waves lap the shore to the rythm of our hearts
Under a sky of dust I sit weeping at my memory
The gate with no key to release
The path is lost, I can't find my way
Smothered by pain, I no longer fear death only this life
The blood we gave for others is washed away
Our selflessness forgotten
Our selfishness bloodstainted and bloodshed on the white bedspread
Where we lay our heads to sleep
The mistakes we make, we are the ones to blame
The candle my flame of hope is slowly dimming
Maybe there's no answers are we are searching endlessly, on a wild goose chase
An untouched flake of snow drops stained with blood
The answers lay under your deathbed
The final realisation will make or break us
The porcelain mask has broken the seems of the lie we are living are undone
Now all that remains is written in history
Ready to condemn others to repeat it
All that is here is a silhoutte of what used to be
The candles flickers and a ghost of wind blows the final candle out.

Impressing lyrics! You should write a whole book!

I'm working on a short story (for me) at the moment about an asassin I might post it when I'm finished.

^Do it .You`re just amaizing!

Thanks Cris. I will

Lady Draconian wrote:

I'm working on a short story (for me) at the moment about an asassin I might post it when I'm finished.

Really, can't wait to read it!

do it!!!

Awesome, glad to see bit newer writing (:

Thanks Eetu and Miriam!!

wow, awsome works. And it's great to see more of your poetry, it's been too long

Thanks Toddly!

Part 1 of my story

The Assassin

The soft screech of brakes sounded through the vechile as it came smoothly to a halt in the shadow of the huge willow tree. He stepped out of the car and gently closed the door. He opened the trunk and opened the gym bag. Past him flew a couple of sparrows merrily churping before landing somewhere in the gaint willow tree. A soft breeze blew, gently swaying the long branches on the tree From the bag he picked an ankle holster and a pistol equipt with three fully loaded magazines. Lowering himself to one knee, he lifted the leg of his black jeans. Pulling up his sock, holster in hand, he swung it so it fitted his ankle and then clipped it shut. Then, he pulled the strap tighter. Standing back up, he reached once again into the trunk and pulled out a belt loaded with grenades. He clipped the belt carefully around his waist the checked his watch. It read twenty-five minutes to twelve. Next, he reached into the bag and pulled out a sniper rifle. He fixed a lens and fresh magazine to it, the turned on the silencer and safety. He pulled the strap of the rifle over his head and tightened is across his black, v-neck sweater. Pulling down the trunk with a soft thump he took the key from the ignition. He placed the key in the back pocket of his jeans. From his pocket he pulled a pair of black gloves and a black mask; he put them on. Looking at he reflection in the glass, he adjusted his black mid-length hair.
"Perfect," he thought "seems like a pretty good day to die."
He walked quickly without a sound to the tree. In the shadows he could see a woman in the top wndow of the huge manor house. The house was of a dark brown colour, made of brick. The house had many large windows; so easy for anyone to see him coming. The thrill excited him. He ran back to the car and got his leather floor length trench coat. He put it on. He knew this house inside out, getting into it undetected was the issue. The front held the oak double doors; one of two entry points. At the side, there was a single door which always remained locked. Surrounding the house was an iron seven foot high fence with wrought iron gates at the front entrance. The gate held two serviallance cameras, equipt with heat sensors. He quickly dashed to the side of the building and carefully began to climb the fence. His gloves made it slippery and the steel toe caps of his shoes kept clanging against the bars. He pulled his hand higher and swung across his leg. Hoisting himself up, he pulled his other leg up and swung his body over the fence. He landed is a cat like crouch about thirty yards from the main doors. He knew what he was doing. Issueing a key from his coat, he ran to the basement hatch. He placed the key in the padlock and the surrounding chains fell away noisily. He placed the lock and key in his pocket. Lifting away the wooden hatch, he climbed down into the basement and closed the hatch behind him. It was really dark in the basement was littered with boxes and crates. He took a flashlight from his belt and shook it. The room was illuminated in a cold white light. He could see a set of stairs leading up to the ground floor. The door opened and the top of the stairs became illuminated. Quickly, he hid behind a stack of crates and hit the torch off. A slender lady with brown hair tied back in a tight bun descended the stairs. She switched the light on. She wore a black blouse and black knee-length pencil skirt. With these she wore plain black shoes. A house servant. Muttering to herself, she came near the crates he was hid behind. He pulled the pistol from the ankle holster and poised himself, ready to strike. As she got closer, he could see her curves and how her legs shined and looked so soft and smooth. He saw she had an excellent face structure, and how her lips looked like blushing roses as she pouted. She opened a crate on the floor and lent into it. He could feel lust eating away inside as he watched her. He breathed deeply and exhaled. The inside of the mask was getting hot and he could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek. Silently, he removed the mask. The house servant removed a bottle of "Finlandia" vodka and some cheese from the crate. She whirled and then she saw him. His pale face looked emotionless. This was only emphasized by his cold looking, startling blue eyes and jet black hair.
Before she could scream, he struck her on the side of the head with the butt of the gun. Quickly he fired three shots into her left breast. Click, click, click was the only sound that filled the confined space. He checked her pulse. It had already stopped. Carefully he picked up her limp body and placed her into the open crate. He placed her into a sitting position and pushed her head down as he slid the lid onto the crate. He wiped a gloveed hand across his forehead and placed the mask back on his face.
He breathed deeply and slowlyas he made his way to the bottom of the stairs. The door at the top lay open and many people bussled back and forth. He would never make it past. Searching the basement, he found a man-sized. He pulled lightly on the grate and found it was loose. The metal was cold through his gloves. He pulled harder and the grate easily came away. A cool breeze seeped through the mask, cooling his face. He removed the mask once more and placed it into his trench coat pocket. He hoisted himself into the ventalation shaft. The smell of damp was over whelming but the cold of the aluminium was muchly welcomed.

Carefully, he crawled through the many twists and turns. The occasional thud of his steel toed boots startled him. After twenty minutes of crawling through the labyrinth, he saw a grate. Peering down he saw what looked like a study. There was an expensive brown leather chair in front of an oak desk. The desk was cluttered with paperwork and stationary, all this was surrounding a monitor and keyboard. The walls were of a cream colour which seemed to go well with a deep red carpet. The room was empty save for a tank of tropical fish. Painting of nature hung around the walls.

He kicked the grate until it became loose and pulled it inwards. It landed with a soft clang inside the ventallation chamber. He crawled halfway out of the hole before falling. The sound wasn't as loud as he'd expected in the room. The carpet was soft beneath his boots. He went around to the desk and knelt near the drawer. He opened it. Inside was more paperwork. He took everything out and sorted through it all. He found a photo of her. Kirsi Ylijoki. He pocketed the photo and placed everything back in the drawer. Calmly, he walked to the door and opened it. He looked out into the hall. The corridor was empty. This was the palce and he knew it. His heart started racing and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins.