Applications
Welcome to forks_high, a Twilight Roleplaying Community since 2007!
Below is the audition form to be used when you want a part in the roleplaying experience. Auditions are currently: CLOSED.
( Audition Criteria )
Below is the audition form to be used when you want a part in the roleplaying experience. Auditions are currently: CLOSED.
( Audition Criteria )
Marie sat on her windowsill with her feet dangling towards the ground three stories below. It was almost nighttime and a faint drizzle sprinkled her face while one of her ears was turned to the porch beneath her feet. If either of her parents were to glance up she’d be in the car to the hospital in a few minutes.
But Marie was not contemplating suicide. She was sitting and watching the horizon grow steadily darker from the sanctity of her bedroom window. It was a sacred place, a location of great tragedy, of enormous energy. With the ear not turned to below her she was listening to the spirits of the place as they whispered silently to her.
One in particular.
But it was more than just that. The drone of all their sepulcher voices spoke something more meaningful at that moment than each individual alone.
Marie dropped a pebble to the porch roof and listened for its distinct rap against the tile, which she heard over all the voices, but barely. “The pebble is like me.” She whispered. “Exactly like me.”
Marie was a minister’s daughter, she knew the inner workings of the church well and as she dropped another pebble between her legs she considered them, the monotone praises of a Sunday morning service and the opposite, the profound silence of the woman diagnosed with cancer two pews ahead of her, bowed in prayer. God knew the contours of every pebble in her hand they said; God had crafted every one of the mountains and the animals and the oceans and named them individually; God had spoken and brought an unfathomably vast universe into existence. What would someone like that want with some poor old woman’s prayer? Wasn’t every man simply born to die to leave the planet and move to better things? What would this God care if this woman lived another day if the Earth was just a dirty rest station on the road of eternity?
As Marie voiced these questions, the spirits of the windowsill answered them. Not in any tangible manner, but simply by being the voices of spirits did she receive answers.
God was not concerned. Why would he be? Contrary to The Bible, penned by men, sinners all alike, Earth was not simply a training ground for Heaven. It was very obvious to Marie that humans, like Angels, were crafted to remain in their respective domains. There is indeed a God, she knew this, and he didn’t make men to entertain himself. He had crafted them, created them individually, and scattered them to the Earth.
How was anyone supposed to truly connect with this God?
“I am exactly like the pebble.” She whispered.
Other contact information: joshua_vlactor, davidporter@yahoo.com, thelonexy on AIM, whatever…
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Yeah, you know the deal!
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