You know, I'm really starting to enjoy some of the random spam I get

[misterx]

Sometimes the words assemble into haiku-like flow, hinting at meanings without really saying them. Other times, they are snippets of a mysterious life only glimpsed, and it's like peeping through the keyhole of some unknown home.

Today's example:

Very softly my ghost bent over me, his right hand crept out of the burnoose, and I saw the flash of a knife blade.


That's all it said.

Comments

[nyobserver.livejournal.com]

oh baby oh

[mountain-lion.livejournal.com]

*raises eyebrows* tantalizing!

[misterx.livejournal.com]

Interestingly, I found the original work it was taken from. Here's more of the passage:

I had provided myself with strong ropes, from one of which I made a lasso such as Sam Hawkins had so well taught me to use on the plains. With these, and my knife and pistol close at hand, I lay down on the couch placed for me, and drew up the blanket so that only my face showed.

I had not long to wait. I heard a rustle by the door leading to Murad Nassyr's apartment, which opened, and the ghost entered. By the light I saw a thin, pointed instrument in his hand, which he inserted in the hole to push back the bolt. I held my lids down, feigning sleep, but watched everything through my lashes. I felt ashamed for Murad Nassyr; this apparition had nothing ghostly about it. The fellow was wrapped in a white burnoose that fell to the ground, the hood drawn over his head, and a white cloth covered his face, in which two holes had been cut for the eyes. This was not a spirit, a ghost, but a man, and remarkably like the figure of Abd el Barak. He came over to my side and stood watching me for a few moments to assure himself I was really sleeping, though how I could be supposed to be I did not understand, for some companion ghosts were in the next room imitating the howling of dogs, and making a hubbub fit to waken the Seven Sleepers. Very softly my ghost bent over me, his right hand crept out of the burnoose, and I saw the flash of a knife blade. I did not spring up, for such a movement would have brought me directly in contact with the knife, but I threw myself at his feet, and tripped him up. The knife flew from his hand, and he fell flat across the couch. The next moment I was over him, choking him with the left hand, while with the right I dealt him a blow back of the ear.

It's from JACK HILDRETH ON THE NILE. It says:

ADAPTED FROM THE ORIGINAL
OF
KARL MAY
BY
MARION AMES TAGGART
PUBLISHED BY BENZINGER BROTHERS
Copyright, 1899, by BENZINGER BROTHERS

You can read the entire thing here, if you are interested:
http://karlmay.leo.org/kmg/sprachen/englisch/primlit/reise/nile/contents.htm