ghosts [Theme] Page 2

When comes the spring,
And the death-defying
Love
All the ghosts of the Palace.
Millennial fear
Knees will bow,
And the dead lips
Words harness granite.

Always wanted to know is it possible to melt the Ghost.

Hanako - the Ghost that grants wishes.

I had all and then most of you,
some and now none of you
Take me back to the night we met
I don't know what I'm supposed to do
haunted by the ghost of you
Take me back to the night we met




You're everything in my life
and now I have nothing left
Take me back to that night when we met.
I don't know what to do
your Ghost follows me everywhere.
Take me back to that night when we met.

The city where I was born, carried the spirit of magic. Grotesque characters could exist only in the mood of my town with lots of soaring Gothic spires of the old Church, a neat cobbled streets and squares, where the night was going and weeping ghosts of witches, heretics, scientists, alchemists of all stripes, who during the Inquisition were burnt "to the greater glory of God." Their weeping was turned to the past, and was hovering over today's city Baltic howling monsoon winds. The past was heard in the night noises, which can recognize only children. Sometimes the old Church, built not on a Foundation of stone, and only hot fervent faith, flew up to the heavens, which were fixed and then the city could be heard the groans of the sinners who are not embraced landless Sky.
Old black river P. twice a year was "swollen" and poisoned by the miasma citizens. Who was wiser, he knew that Christmas and Easter from the bottom trying to get up decayed bodies are left there once the villains and robbers, and come out ahead of time on the Court Fear. And witches who were not checked by the fire of fires, and throwing them into the water. If the young red-haired beauty with green eyes, which conveyed a fat Burger, a neighbor, did not sink, so she was declared a witch and she was burned at the stake. If drowned, then the Church has recognized a mistake and prayed for the soul of the righteous, innocent victim for the sake of Christ and received a crown of the Martyr. Burger-the informer was not recognized, because in the inquisitorial box for letters - the "mouth of truth" - were allowed to leave anonymous. Not recognized there were still reasons for which it was told: young, proud beauty denied him the pleasures of love - she, a woman with obvious signs of witches; too independent, too beautiful, with Golden hair the color of carrots and eyes like sparkling malachite. The city was old for new stories, however, have nourished fantasies of children to magical new stories.

- Ragnar?..
- Hello, Helga. You look like you've seen a Ghost.
- And you're a Ghost?
- Perhaps...

- Why do I feel?
- Because I'm a part of you. Take care of my heart.
- I promise.
You know, I'd still gave it to you...

- Hide in the woods.
- In Sherwood forest was haunted.
Or dare, or you will turn into ghosts!

Each of us is a Ghost for the rest and its the only reality.

Look... In this city lived fifty thousand people. Now it's a Ghost town... Never seen anything like it.

Why would you want the burden of a human life to lay the Ghost? A lonely man is only the shadow and those who do not like, alone, everywhere and with everyone.

- This is not your obonye ghosts, you know. They are more dangerous.
- How dangerous?
- Well, I mean the guy you just shot, Francis Tamblti.
- Who?
- Uh, "Jack The Ripper".
- Cool.

Silver, lights and tinsel, -
The whole world of silver!
The pearl, burning birches,
Black naked yesterday.
This is an area of someone's dreams,
Are ghosts and dreams!
All the items of the old prose
Magic illuminated.
Crews, pedestrians,
The blue white smoke.
People's lives and the life of nature
Full new and Holy.
The embodiment of dreams,
Life with a dream game
This world charms
The world silver!

The tradition of Ghost stories is rife with echoes. The abode of the ghosts are similar to each other, the curse is consistent, and every Gothic narrative is somewhat reminiscent of the story told before.