winds; relished thoughts
revel like oasis
wounded memories metamorphose
21 September 2005 @ 8:58 p.m.
This is the story of my alter-ego/double: Pandora, somehow it was posted on diaryland. (ctrl v, and this is what is like)
Pandora, namely gothchyld°¶s alter-ego, or double in terms of poetry, was born under the blue moon and nurtured through many nights of sparking stars, where she wandered around the world °V unfortunately, bloodsucking. Well, dont' read if you are the faint-hearted then.
Pandora was originally linked to one of gothchyld°¶s seven hundred something past lives, where it was somewhere between the Late Greek period or the Empires in Constantinople. Wearing a white tunic, she was once a pure and innocent child of an upper-middle class family. Her father was a senator in the Parliament, and her mother a socialite, although she came from a middle-lower class family. Pandora was the youngest of her family, with four elder brothers °V craftsmen, aristocrat; somehow they all had different jobs. It must be stressed that Pandora°¶s family was one of the few households that uphold a large extent of liberalism in the period that they lived in, hence she acquired the education of literature, history and arithmetic at a young age. This maybe a similar scenario to females of the democratic and open society of today, but a blockage to successful marriage to upper class members during her times.
But Pandora did not need to worry. She was never going to remain mortal for too long. Indeed, Pandora was my child, me and a part of me. Always.
Under a special waxing moon, Pandora met the poet ___. (starts with an O, I forgot). She was enchanted by his literature and his appreciation of darkness and mysteries around the world. His literature was the light of her life, a gateway to a different world. Eventually she left home and began her journey around Constantinople/Greece, only to realize the cruelty of a war to come after.
After 10 days, it was the invasion of the Roman/Turkish empire, their savage weapons and massive slaughters had stunned the whole of her homeland. Nevertheless, the Emperors had been murdered, heirs killed and royals exiled, or raped. The entire country was under the rape of the inhumane Roman army. Her darkened face and purple eyes (note °V probably bruised) concealed her from womanhood, and led her to her lover °V Marius. In short, Marius was an artist, a writer °V things that she craved for.
It was his immortality that enchanted her, enthralled her. It was through him that Pandora knew she was the reincarnation of a vampire (nosferatu), and at critical moment were Pandora was about to be raped and murder by a crusade of army, (N.B. When a female prisoner of war was taken into the enemy camp, they were likely to be plaything and an object of torture in there.) Marius gave her the Dark Gift.
I did not know what happen to the many years that Pandora lived through. Except I know that she resides in my soul, and is always a part of me, although it is best to call her as my alias. At times the wild and aristocratic nature comes upon me, you know it is the Pandora part of me. Hence, the sensual, mature (unfortunately) and perhaps poems of rich language that you all have seen later are known as the Pandora chronicles.
É‹Marius and Pandora are still lovers I suppose, but I only perceive Marius as a guardian of mine.
OF COURSE, THIS CAN JUST BE FANFICTION, COMPOSED DUE TO BRAIN EXHAUSTION AND BOREDOM.
Hong Kong 20:58¬†