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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write. Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground. Kiya's gift. I love it!
Everyday Canvas
#870068 added January 5, 2016 at 11:13pm
Restrictions: None
After Dark Shadows...
Prompt: My name is Victoria Winters. I am going on a journey that will bring me to a strange, dark house on the edge of Widows Hill. There I am going to be a governess to a young boy and the companion of a mysterious woman. "Dark Shadows" Write a poem or story about this and this doesn't have to be Dark Shadows related. Have fun with this.’’

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Hahaha! Long time no see. When Dark Shadows was first on ABC (I think ABC), I started watching it because I had a little baby who needed to be held. For seven months or so, this soap was like any other soap, but I liked its sane twists in the beginning. For some reason, one of the writers introduced the spooky stuff, making Barnabas evolve into a vampire. Suddenly, the ratings skyrocketed, and the entire show changed its face. Of course, I stopped watching it since my tastes hadn’t yet graduated to ghosts, werewolves, zombies, monsters, witches, warlocks, time travel, or a parallel universe. Anyhow, by that time, my baby had grown, and I didn’t have the stomach to get involved with the unnerving stuff.

Coming back to you, Victoria, dear, I only recall the Collinses barely, but shame on you, for aping Jane Eyre, although, at the time, I felt for your innocence, confusion, and misery. Frankly, you got what you deserved by being nailed inside a coffin, experiencing claustrophobia. If I had watched you any further, I would have had claustrophobia, too. I heard they wrote you out of the series. It is a shame, though; if I recall correctly, you had a very pretty face.

Who’d know the craze that started in Collingwood mansion would end up in places all over the world with stuff such as Harry Potter and the Twilight Saga! True, there were similar horror fiction and movies earlier, but none of them became that popular with the exception of Count Dracula.

Vicky, dear, I don’t know what you taught that little boy with his mother Elizabeth hanging over you, but your presence led to a new era of unreality. In view of the success of such things today, I guess Jane Eyre will forgive you for your thievery, after all.

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