I needed a floor lamp to illuminate my sewing hand work. I was looking for a traditional style, adjustable and not too big for my space.
This light is perfect for putting light on my hand sewing projects from morning til night. It adjusts for closer work and works with the new neon “green” bulbs. The lamp didn’t come with a shade, but I found one at a local store, I wish I had known which size to get, it took 2 trips, but it looks just perfect in its new home in my living room.
How is my writing so far on this?
It does not give me pleasure doing the work of a killer. Even the advantages damnation has given me do not seem worth the terrible pleading of mortal men when they see the approach of my hooded figure; the symbol of death rasping on their doors and spiriting them away into oblivion. I am not pleased with my current state of being. I say being for if I was to say life I would be misspeaking. I am not alive, though I still walk the earth and will continue to do so for the rest of time itself. I am plagued with immortality, never able to live side by side with mortal beings in my current state. Though after each live I am bid take I regain, though for a short period of time, a human face and human flesh. My old self which was ripped from my grasp as a foolish young man upon making a pact with the devil, an irreversible promise which I’d jumped on with no thought of consequence, the promise of immortality. Now as I leapt from rooftop to iron wrought terrace, wrapped in the night’s fog and concealed in hooded robes to hide my gleaming white bones I alighted upon a small bed of roses. I did not crush each that I stepped upon, no. I was extremely light, even when I jump my descent aided by my robes is far slower than a human’s would’ve been. Each rose that I passed beside wilted and curled turning black Wrought iron floor lamps with even a slightest touch on my bone. I could tell the door locked, and I leaning down I exhaled a misted breath to the keyhole turning the tumblers in the gilded handle of the French doors. Slowly, silently I turned that beautiful gilded handle and so quietly did I enter that room that I not even stirred her from her silent reading pooled light from the oil lamp shimmering on her ashen curls. Only when I stepped off of the floral throw rug did I make a sound. The bones of my foot hitting the burnished wooden floor, tinkling as if made of hallow glass against the exposed wood. She looked up from her reading and I grimaced despite myself at the sound I had made.“Who-” and that was all she said, for by that time I had lowered my hood and pulled one bony finger up to where my lips would have been had I skin. She stared at me stunned as I slowly made my way across the floor, bone against wood sounding clear as a silver bell in the cool, misted autumn night. The sound seeming to frighten her most, as it was to her a realization that I was not just a figment of her mind, but truly here to take her.My hands moved to her cheeks and holding her they possessed a strength that no skeleton should possess and that no mortal could match. As I touched her she froze, her mouth opening in awe at the smooth texture of the bone against her skin. I lent down to the level of her wrinkled face, her undulating, disheveled hair fallen in her eyes. A foot from her mouth I pulled her soul out from her core. Between her teeth it slipped from her and into my bone it seeped to renew me and reattach flesh to my bones. I dropped her body and left it lying on the couch with its only purpose now to be a rotting shell in the Earth. Her eyes were now closed and her face peaceful as I stood gazing over her, contemplating why I had been told to take she who looked perfect in health, and how long my human façade would hold.With my hood still down I turned, my human face not yet beginning to return. Behind me stood a young girl of no more than ten years in age with auburn in her tresses, her eyes wide and her lips parted, her round cheeks flushed.“I saw you come from the garden, but… the door… it was locked, and my mother- is she…?”“Yes, she is gone,” I walked towards her with my feet ringing still on the floor. As I came closer she instinctively covered her nose and mouth with her tiny hand sending a shock of grief through me, she had seen me murder her mother.When I reached her across the room she shut her eyes tight as if the action would ward me off, and normally I would have been gone far before now but there was something about this young girl which was almost enticing.
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It does not give me pleasure doing the work of a killer. Even the advantages damnation has given me do not seem worth the terrible pleading of mortal men when they see the approach of my hooded figure; the symbol of death rasping on their doors and spiriting them away into oblivion. I am not pleased with my current state of being. I say being for if I was to say life I would be misspeaking. I am not alive, though I still walk the earth and will continue to do so for the rest of time itself. I am plagued with immortality, never able to live side by side with mortal beings in my current state. Though after each live I am bid take I regain, though for a short period of time, a human face and human flesh. My old self which was ripped from my grasp as a foolish young man upon making a pact with the devil, an irreversible promise which I’d jumped on with no thought of consequence, the promise of immortality. Now as I leapt from rooftop to iron wrought terrace, wrapped in the night’s fog and concealed in hooded robes to hide my gleaming white bones I alighted upon a small bed of roses. I did not crush each that I stepped upon, no. I was extremely light, even when I jump my descent aided by my robes is far slower than a human’s would’ve been. Each rose that I passed beside wilted and curled turning black Wrought iron floor lamps with even a slightest touch on my bone. I could tell the door locked, and I leaning down I exhaled a misted breath to the keyhole turning the tumblers in the gilded handle of the French doors. Slowly, silently I turned that beautiful gilded handle and so quietly did I enter that room that I not even stirred her from her silent reading pooled light from the oil lamp shimmering on her ashen curls. Only when I stepped off of the floral throw rug did I make a sound. The bones of my foot hitting the burnished wooden floor, tinkling as if made of hallow glass against the exposed wood. She looked up from her reading and I grimaced despite myself at the sound I had made.“Who-” and that was all she said, for by that time I had lowered my hood and pulled one bony finger up to where my lips would have been had I skin. She stared at me stunned as I slowly made my way across the floor, bone against wood sounding clear as a silver bell in the cool, misted autumn night. The sound seeming to frighten her most, as it was to her a realization that I was not just a figment of her mind, but truly here to take her.My hands moved to her cheeks and holding her they possessed a strength that no skeleton should possess and that no mortal could match. As I touched her she froze, her mouth opening in awe at the smooth texture of the bone against her skin. I lent down to the level of her wrinkled face, her undulating, disheveled hair fallen in her eyes. A foot from her mouth I pulled her soul out from her core. Between her teeth it slipped from her and into my bone it seeped to renew me and reattach flesh to my bones. I dropped her body and left it lying on the couch with its only purpose now to be a rotting shell in the Earth. Her eyes were now closed and her face peaceful as I stood gazing over her, contemplating why I had been told to take she who looked perfect in health, and how long my human façade would hold.With my hood still down I turned, my human face not yet beginning to return. Behind me stood a young girl of no more than ten years in age with auburn in her tresses, her eyes wide and her lips parted, her round cheeks flushed.“I saw you come from the garden, but… the door… it was locked, and my mother- is she…?”“Yes, she is gone,” I walked towards her with my feet ringing still on the floor. As I came closer she instinctively covered her nose and mouth with her tiny hand sending a shock of grief through me, she had seen me murder her mother.When I reached her across the room she shut her eyes tight as if the action would ward me off, and normally I would have been gone far before now but there was something about this young girl which was almost enticing.
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