The mist shrouded around her s she walked into the mighty depth of the unknown forest in the middle of New Hampshire. “Be careful!” I yelled after her but it was no use. She was in way too deep for her to even hear my voice as awhisper.. I could only pray that she would capture this beast before it started to hurt the people we love in the small unknown town of ours. Patty put her head against my shoulder and started to sob after our sister went into the forest for her reappearance to be question until the day she returns- or the days she doesn’t.
She felt the fine mist swirling in her head, veiling her thoughts. As soon as she reached out to grasp them they dissipated. Smoke in the wind. The harder she tried to cling, the quicker they disappeared. She prayed every day that they–her husband, her sons, her daughters, her friends–did not notice.
Didn’t notice the disease that slowly ate away the memories lining her soul.
The mist rose around my footsteps like ashes, or dust. it was one of those dew-dropped moments of wet faces, cold hands. I couldn’t see you, but I felt you there, with me, on that cold autumn day. If I could tell you something, anything, it would be: the fog and mist makes me miss you more than the empty glass of whiskey on my kitchen table. the cold gets into my bones, into my breath, and it makes me remember the time when you were my bones; you were my breath.
postmarkedheart
Life is like a traveling mist. It’s here one day and gone the next. This life is yours, if you will only allow yourself to take it. Grab hold of it and make it what you want it.
“Of Bees and Mist” was a very interesting but sad book. It was beautifully written and there was a lot of symbolism. You all should read it. =) It’s by Erick Setiawan.
In the misty tiff of Johann Boondock’s dream, he was the winner. There, in that cloudy fluff of wonder, the sweat never hazed his vision, despair never clogged his arteries, and he always won the fight.
It sprays the earth, and the air above,
I watch it glisten as it slowly falls on my face.
The cold drops tickle my cheeks and rest upon my eye lashes,
It calms me.
Under a strange mist my thoughts float around me, haunted as always in a one way path, can´t turn back, can´t go foward, I´ll stay here forever until you find me asleep.
what? my goal was to connect this somehow to gas and then to the price of gas and then to how I don’t have money to get to work tomorrow – but this is beyond me. This just reminds me of Gorillas. as in …in the mist. Yeah. And i think that watching Psych was much more entertaining than this. Phew.
meg
mist. it starts with an m. there are so many words that start that way. mother, madam, mystical. i could have gotten ANY of those words. but no, mist falls to my lot. what is there to write of about MIST?!
rach
I wish I had a mist button in my dorm room. I just got back from the gym and I am sweaty like no other. A nice cool mist would be excellent right now. Like at amusement parks how they have the random spots with mist things going. Those are the best. =) It’s almost Friday. And Friday I go home with Alicia. Not that that has anything to do with mist…
Teeps
Mist…. Every day. My head is filled with it. I awake and I know that I can not see clearly, nor think or hear clearly. It is as if I interact with the world underwater and my thoughts and responses are all muddled. Am I alive? Or am I living zombified, made complacent by the choices I’ve made. I should have always lived free, never submitting myself to slavery…
mostly water it is…
you don’t say…
I do…
well then so what of it…
lot of fuss about nothing that’s all i’m saying…
it can sink boats but…
sure it does, but that don’t change the fact it’s just water…
you don’t say…
I do; mostly water that’s all it is.
partycraftsecrets
mist is the only thing that separates us. its that defining precipitation. we can mostly see what’s ahead, but little thought bubbles are between the lines. ones we can’t say or act upon. we just let them fall to the ground and take up with the wind.
Amanda Drozd
The mist. The mist floats in the valley as I drive the same beautiful, winding country road every morning on my way to work. Honestly, all I can think is, “DEMENTORS!”
i felt the cool mist shower my body as i stepped inside. brilliant colors enveloped me and i gazed up at the sky. every shade of red, green, blue shined brightly against the deep indigo sky.
The mist surrounds me in the dark. I look around and can not see anything, not even my hand in front of my face. I feel scared and alone, nowhere to go…
Clearly, seeing where the hell I was going was not going to be a priority. Stumbling over drunken, half-naked bodies was difficult enough without the morning dew playing silly buggers across my path. Irish Mist – lethal bloody whiskey.
Jacques Thelad
I wake and walk toward the clouded glass, the fresh crisp air comes in an open window, I look down to the mist filled valley. I am four and for me the ancient world has just begun. If I could start from there again with what I know, I would just love more, that is all.
Silent, cool, and fresh. I walked down the path through the forest toward the garden I knew was suppose to be a head of me. I could not see it though, the mist was thick, adding to the delightful trip home.
The skies are clear, the air is fog-free.
Then why is it that we still cannot see?
Our eyes are blind, our vision is squandered
If we don’t trust our hearts, we have no choice but to wander.
I walk through an old ancient medow. Full of old armour and medieval wars scattered across the field. Mist makes it hard to see. I stub my toe on an empty echoing breastplate. There is nothing left. Just empty armor. Empty fields. Empty mist.
its like a mist thats covering my eyes
i cant see before me
and the things that seem very important
are hidden more than teh rest
my ideas and hopes
are all clouded and unsure
i’m always on the verge of having anxiety attacks
i’m worried of what could happen
but then if things were meant to be for a reason
maybe i should stop trying to change it
swirling and coalescing, drifting with a oneness that seems disconcerting.
Baby rain, so fine as to be tangible. Tears from a host of angels, and the whispers of the limitless unborn children.
Blinded by a mist of misconception, I didn’t know where I was headed in life . Weather it were good or bad, I couldn’t make up my future . Unknowingly, my future was being made for me, I just needed to learn to see past the mist, and know what has been decided .
The mist was thick over the fields of New Earth, and the sun had barely risen over the tips of the grass. The Doctor stepped out onto the ground, shoes slightly wet, and dropped to his knees.
Ben Tracy
The mist settled over the silent field as Yorick made his last rounds as undead gravekeeper. His ghouls followed, blank stares etched in their faces from untold years of torment as his minions. Have I been playing too much League of Legends? Maybe.
I LOVED THAT GAME! I got through the whole thing with no cheats – played it obsessively – and didn’t even own a copy! I played on and off at a friend’s and finished it while working elsewhere for a summer, playing on an office worker’s computer.
Eventually I got my own copy and then the sequels came out. I pre-ordered Riven and it arrived a day early! I couldn’t believe it. Sadly, that was all I looked forward to at the time. I remember, for some reason, the question arose “If I died tomorrow is there anything I’d miss?” and I thought for a long time and realized, no. There wasn’t really anything I’d feel like I missed. If someone flew down and said “Hey you wanna go now?” I’d have said “Ok!” But then I realized Riven hadn’t come out and I WANTED to play, and was waiting, and I realized I’d be really upset if I died before I had a chance to play that after all my waiting! – Lame huh? :D
I did a two day marathon of playing once I got it and finished the game, – Alive again. No hints. – Then kept seeing maglevs in everything as I walked around my neighborhood. Weird the brainwashing that two straight days of playing can do to you! I liked Riven, but liked the first a bit better.
The third I didn’t like at all. I needed two hints for that. One was due to the graphics which I thought were terrible. I literally couldn’t see the clue. Not because I wasn’t looking but due to the quality of the graphics. The 2nd was my fault. Too immersed in the game. I felt pressured to make a split second decision and panicked and chose incorrectly. Had I taken myself out of the game and put it on PAUSE – which you can do because it’s ONLY A GAME! I might have figured out the correct thing to do. But that NEVER OCCURRED TO ME! It was so strange, afterwards, when I realized that. I felt the pressure and immediacy to choose QUICKLY! – and I did. And it didn’t go well at all. And my heart SANK. Really truly did. I had chest pains, I lost my breath, I believe I screamed or did one of those silent screams…. – WAY too immersed. Very real at the time. My reaction surprised me. I was very shaken!
I bought Real Myst and loved it. Then got the next in the series, and lost patience with it pretty early on. It was sad to see how poorly the game progressed once it was sold to another company.
I have all 3 books, in hardcover. A t-shirt and a squee somewhere. A CD somewhere too. All part of a bonus package. Loved the world. Used to visit Cyan’s website and wonder about playing frisbee… Still remember the action figure mockups of the staff :)
Angry the Myst series was sold to others.
Years later someone bought me Pyst (speaking of “being taken over by others!”) which I’d always wanted, out of curiosity, but never wanted to shell out money for because I’d heard it was THAT bad. – I am thrilled to have a copy now. But oh yes, it is THAT bad. It’s terrible.
Myst is the only computer game I was ever into. I tried a few others and had zero interest. The puzzles weren’t challenging. The worlds didn’t interest me… I do like virtual reality games but can only use a helmet for up to 15 minutes. After that my brain goes all wonky and it takes me too long to recover (as in over an hour to re-establish equilibrium!)
What else can I say – now that I’m *way* past 60 seconds!
I loved Myst. I even have the demo on my phone :)
Noisy Quiet
So ein Mist. Das Brötchen ist runtergefallen. Ich habe mir den Finger eingeklemmt und den Penis im Reißverschluss. Ich habe verschlafen und der Füller hat gekleckst und jetzt ist mir auch noch die Kaffeekanne runtergefallen. Dabei weiß ich gar nicht, was mist auf Englisch heißt.
Sometimes our senses are confused. Shrouded, as it were, like the fairytales, in mists that we can’t see through. A fog that we can’t get beyond. We’re just….locked in, and seeing the same old things over and over, reflected back at ourselves – echoing voices – the same way the mists echo light, bouncing amongst the clear water particles, turning a deep night into hazy midday.
around 5:00 every afternoon when I was in costa rica this summer the mist from the storm clouds would flow into our windows, as if we were in the sky. at only 6000 feet but literally living in the mist, it was like we were invading the privacy of the birds
Through the steam, the mist, you were there. The white clouds seemed to clear the way for you as you marched on through, towards me. Your smile drew it in, as it tried to hide you from the world, to curtain you away, so no one could steal you away from it.
I wish I was the mist that wrapped around you, and never let go.
Mary
Her world was shrouded in mist. She never saw anything clearly anymore. All of it was covered in the strange gray cloud that followed her around. It was her curse. It had crept into her mind one day long ago. So long ago she can no longer remember a time when she could see clearly.
I woke up this morning to find mist smothered my bedside window. The beautiful white substance glowed and I just couldn’t help myself to write ‘I love you’ on it, wishing someone would do the same for me when I’m married.
jen
It was a misty day. The kind that reminded her of all those she had spent in his arms. The cabin by the beach was covered in a thick gray cloud. It crept into through the windows and slunk up the stairs. And quietly, it slipped into her mind.
AlwaysAlly
The mist was heavy. It felt like a blanket draped across my broad shoulders. Thinking this, I looked up at my mother. “Why are they like this?”
“Why are what like what, dear?”
I didn’t answer. I do this to often. Assume people know what I am thinking. I believe its because of my desire for answers. I don’t have time to explain myself.
Caroline
The mist blocked my view as I drove down the road, unsure of the direction I was heading in, only to crash into a tree. Sadly, that caused me to get into a huge wreck, my car caught fire . Darn you, mist .
Yasmin Toutio
Clinging to the top of the trees, the tip of the mountain. Stranded between two worlds. Afraid to let go and dissolve, barely hanging on to the threads of existence.
Cool and damp and shrouded, over the forest, relying on its instincts, those of a child. Cling and never let go. Never let yourself fall into the abyss, the unknown.
At the risk of never seeing more, never let go.
The mist shrouded around her s she walked into the mighty depth of the unknown forest in the middle of New Hampshire. “Be careful!” I yelled after her but it was no use. She was in way too deep for her to even hear my voice as awhisper.. I could only pray that she would capture this beast before it started to hurt the people we love in the small unknown town of ours. Patty put her head against my shoulder and started to sob after our sister went into the forest for her reappearance to be question until the day she returns- or the days she doesn’t.
She felt the fine mist swirling in her head, veiling her thoughts. As soon as she reached out to grasp them they dissipated. Smoke in the wind. The harder she tried to cling, the quicker they disappeared. She prayed every day that they–her husband, her sons, her daughters, her friends–did not notice.
Didn’t notice the disease that slowly ate away the memories lining her soul.
The mist rose around my footsteps like ashes, or dust. it was one of those dew-dropped moments of wet faces, cold hands. I couldn’t see you, but I felt you there, with me, on that cold autumn day. If I could tell you something, anything, it would be: the fog and mist makes me miss you more than the empty glass of whiskey on my kitchen table. the cold gets into my bones, into my breath, and it makes me remember the time when you were my bones; you were my breath.
Life is like a traveling mist. It’s here one day and gone the next. This life is yours, if you will only allow yourself to take it. Grab hold of it and make it what you want it.
“Of Bees and Mist” was a very interesting but sad book. It was beautifully written and there was a lot of symbolism. You all should read it. =) It’s by Erick Setiawan.
In the misty tiff of Johann Boondock’s dream, he was the winner. There, in that cloudy fluff of wonder, the sweat never hazed his vision, despair never clogged his arteries, and he always won the fight.
It sprays the earth, and the air above,
I watch it glisten as it slowly falls on my face.
The cold drops tickle my cheeks and rest upon my eye lashes,
It calms me.
Under a strange mist my thoughts float around me, haunted as always in a one way path, can´t turn back, can´t go foward, I´ll stay here forever until you find me asleep.
what? my goal was to connect this somehow to gas and then to the price of gas and then to how I don’t have money to get to work tomorrow – but this is beyond me. This just reminds me of Gorillas. as in …in the mist. Yeah. And i think that watching Psych was much more entertaining than this. Phew.
mist. it starts with an m. there are so many words that start that way. mother, madam, mystical. i could have gotten ANY of those words. but no, mist falls to my lot. what is there to write of about MIST?!
I wish I had a mist button in my dorm room. I just got back from the gym and I am sweaty like no other. A nice cool mist would be excellent right now. Like at amusement parks how they have the random spots with mist things going. Those are the best. =) It’s almost Friday. And Friday I go home with Alicia. Not that that has anything to do with mist…
Mist…. Every day. My head is filled with it. I awake and I know that I can not see clearly, nor think or hear clearly. It is as if I interact with the world underwater and my thoughts and responses are all muddled. Am I alive? Or am I living zombified, made complacent by the choices I’ve made. I should have always lived free, never submitting myself to slavery…
hanging from the lounge window with sunlight dissipating through, slightly obscuring but hopeful for the new day
mostly water it is…
you don’t say…
I do…
well then so what of it…
lot of fuss about nothing that’s all i’m saying…
it can sink boats but…
sure it does, but that don’t change the fact it’s just water…
you don’t say…
I do; mostly water that’s all it is.
mist is the only thing that separates us. its that defining precipitation. we can mostly see what’s ahead, but little thought bubbles are between the lines. ones we can’t say or act upon. we just let them fall to the ground and take up with the wind.
The mist. The mist floats in the valley as I drive the same beautiful, winding country road every morning on my way to work. Honestly, all I can think is, “DEMENTORS!”
i felt the cool mist shower my body as i stepped inside. brilliant colors enveloped me and i gazed up at the sky. every shade of red, green, blue shined brightly against the deep indigo sky.
The mist surrounds me in the dark. I look around and can not see anything, not even my hand in front of my face. I feel scared and alone, nowhere to go…
Clearly, seeing where the hell I was going was not going to be a priority. Stumbling over drunken, half-naked bodies was difficult enough without the morning dew playing silly buggers across my path. Irish Mist – lethal bloody whiskey.
I wake and walk toward the clouded glass, the fresh crisp air comes in an open window, I look down to the mist filled valley. I am four and for me the ancient world has just begun. If I could start from there again with what I know, I would just love more, that is all.
Silent, cool, and fresh. I walked down the path through the forest toward the garden I knew was suppose to be a head of me. I could not see it though, the mist was thick, adding to the delightful trip home.
The skies are clear, the air is fog-free.
Then why is it that we still cannot see?
Our eyes are blind, our vision is squandered
If we don’t trust our hearts, we have no choice but to wander.
I walk through an old ancient medow. Full of old armour and medieval wars scattered across the field. Mist makes it hard to see. I stub my toe on an empty echoing breastplate. There is nothing left. Just empty armor. Empty fields. Empty mist.
its like a mist thats covering my eyes
i cant see before me
and the things that seem very important
are hidden more than teh rest
my ideas and hopes
are all clouded and unsure
i’m always on the verge of having anxiety attacks
i’m worried of what could happen
but then if things were meant to be for a reason
maybe i should stop trying to change it
swirling and coalescing, drifting with a oneness that seems disconcerting.
Baby rain, so fine as to be tangible. Tears from a host of angels, and the whispers of the limitless unborn children.
Blinded by a mist of misconception, I didn’t know where I was headed in life . Weather it were good or bad, I couldn’t make up my future . Unknowingly, my future was being made for me, I just needed to learn to see past the mist, and know what has been decided .
The mist was thick over the fields of New Earth, and the sun had barely risen over the tips of the grass. The Doctor stepped out onto the ground, shoes slightly wet, and dropped to his knees.
The mist settled over the silent field as Yorick made his last rounds as undead gravekeeper. His ghouls followed, blank stares etched in their faces from untold years of torment as his minions. Have I been playing too much League of Legends? Maybe.
Mist
Myst :)
I LOVED THAT GAME! I got through the whole thing with no cheats – played it obsessively – and didn’t even own a copy! I played on and off at a friend’s and finished it while working elsewhere for a summer, playing on an office worker’s computer.
Eventually I got my own copy and then the sequels came out. I pre-ordered Riven and it arrived a day early! I couldn’t believe it. Sadly, that was all I looked forward to at the time. I remember, for some reason, the question arose “If I died tomorrow is there anything I’d miss?” and I thought for a long time and realized, no. There wasn’t really anything I’d feel like I missed. If someone flew down and said “Hey you wanna go now?” I’d have said “Ok!” But then I realized Riven hadn’t come out and I WANTED to play, and was waiting, and I realized I’d be really upset if I died before I had a chance to play that after all my waiting! – Lame huh? :D
I did a two day marathon of playing once I got it and finished the game, – Alive again. No hints. – Then kept seeing maglevs in everything as I walked around my neighborhood. Weird the brainwashing that two straight days of playing can do to you! I liked Riven, but liked the first a bit better.
The third I didn’t like at all. I needed two hints for that. One was due to the graphics which I thought were terrible. I literally couldn’t see the clue. Not because I wasn’t looking but due to the quality of the graphics. The 2nd was my fault. Too immersed in the game. I felt pressured to make a split second decision and panicked and chose incorrectly. Had I taken myself out of the game and put it on PAUSE – which you can do because it’s ONLY A GAME! I might have figured out the correct thing to do. But that NEVER OCCURRED TO ME! It was so strange, afterwards, when I realized that. I felt the pressure and immediacy to choose QUICKLY! – and I did. And it didn’t go well at all. And my heart SANK. Really truly did. I had chest pains, I lost my breath, I believe I screamed or did one of those silent screams…. – WAY too immersed. Very real at the time. My reaction surprised me. I was very shaken!
I bought Real Myst and loved it. Then got the next in the series, and lost patience with it pretty early on. It was sad to see how poorly the game progressed once it was sold to another company.
I have all 3 books, in hardcover. A t-shirt and a squee somewhere. A CD somewhere too. All part of a bonus package. Loved the world. Used to visit Cyan’s website and wonder about playing frisbee… Still remember the action figure mockups of the staff :)
Angry the Myst series was sold to others.
Years later someone bought me Pyst (speaking of “being taken over by others!”) which I’d always wanted, out of curiosity, but never wanted to shell out money for because I’d heard it was THAT bad. – I am thrilled to have a copy now. But oh yes, it is THAT bad. It’s terrible.
Myst is the only computer game I was ever into. I tried a few others and had zero interest. The puzzles weren’t challenging. The worlds didn’t interest me… I do like virtual reality games but can only use a helmet for up to 15 minutes. After that my brain goes all wonky and it takes me too long to recover (as in over an hour to re-establish equilibrium!)
What else can I say – now that I’m *way* past 60 seconds!
I loved Myst. I even have the demo on my phone :)
So ein Mist. Das Brötchen ist runtergefallen. Ich habe mir den Finger eingeklemmt und den Penis im Reißverschluss. Ich habe verschlafen und der Füller hat gekleckst und jetzt ist mir auch noch die Kaffeekanne runtergefallen. Dabei weiß ich gar nicht, was mist auf Englisch heißt.
Sometimes our senses are confused. Shrouded, as it were, like the fairytales, in mists that we can’t see through. A fog that we can’t get beyond. We’re just….locked in, and seeing the same old things over and over, reflected back at ourselves – echoing voices – the same way the mists echo light, bouncing amongst the clear water particles, turning a deep night into hazy midday.
The mist fogged the shower pane, cloaking me from the outside.
“Sam!, SAM!” He called from the door. The steam continued to rise around me.
“OPEN THIS GODDAMNED DOOR!”
I was in the shower, drowning all memory of him away. Away from my mind, away from my body.
I hated him.
around 5:00 every afternoon when I was in costa rica this summer the mist from the storm clouds would flow into our windows, as if we were in the sky. at only 6000 feet but literally living in the mist, it was like we were invading the privacy of the birds
Through the steam, the mist, you were there. The white clouds seemed to clear the way for you as you marched on through, towards me. Your smile drew it in, as it tried to hide you from the world, to curtain you away, so no one could steal you away from it.
I wish I was the mist that wrapped around you, and never let go.
Her world was shrouded in mist. She never saw anything clearly anymore. All of it was covered in the strange gray cloud that followed her around. It was her curse. It had crept into her mind one day long ago. So long ago she can no longer remember a time when she could see clearly.
I woke up this morning to find mist smothered my bedside window. The beautiful white substance glowed and I just couldn’t help myself to write ‘I love you’ on it, wishing someone would do the same for me when I’m married.
It was a misty day. The kind that reminded her of all those she had spent in his arms. The cabin by the beach was covered in a thick gray cloud. It crept into through the windows and slunk up the stairs. And quietly, it slipped into her mind.
The mist was heavy. It felt like a blanket draped across my broad shoulders. Thinking this, I looked up at my mother. “Why are they like this?”
“Why are what like what, dear?”
I didn’t answer. I do this to often. Assume people know what I am thinking. I believe its because of my desire for answers. I don’t have time to explain myself.
The mist blocked my view as I drove down the road, unsure of the direction I was heading in, only to crash into a tree. Sadly, that caused me to get into a huge wreck, my car caught fire . Darn you, mist .
Clinging to the top of the trees, the tip of the mountain. Stranded between two worlds. Afraid to let go and dissolve, barely hanging on to the threads of existence.
Cool and damp and shrouded, over the forest, relying on its instincts, those of a child. Cling and never let go. Never let yourself fall into the abyss, the unknown.
At the risk of never seeing more, never let go.