...To Write is to Write is to Write...

Love in Difficult Times

2011-12-28T14:53:00.000-08:00

" 'Do you love me?' means, 'Do you see the same truth?' " - Emerson

We downplayed our feelings and acted as if there was nothingbetween us. We acted likestrangers and yet it felt so unbelievably natural to be with him, like we werealways meant to find each other, that our decisions, good and bad, had led ushere to this moment, for this very reason.

It felt…right to bewith him and this truth bleed into every aspect of my being. The more time we spent together the more he gained my trust,and trust was something I always had a hard time giving away, but he wasdifferent. Perhaps that’s becauseof how different the love I felt for him was over any other man beforehim. I admired his kindness thathe showed to those around him, I admired his steadfastness of character, his soft and gentlemanners, and through all of these things...I realized that I also respected him.

The love I felt for him was different because it ran deeperthan the artificial view of love. He was handsome, yes. I wasattracted to him, yes. But these things did not define if I loved him or not,the qualities he portrayed and that were a part of him breath and soul, were thethings that aroused my curiosity and decided if I could ever love him ornot. I wanted so much to be withhim because of who he was, I wanted to experience life beside him, I wanted to behis companion, his best friend, toshare in all of his joy and pain, I wanted to be there to comfort him, toencourage him, and to love him.

Just some writing that I will use for some other project~ Don't quite know which project...but it is good to have such sentiments on file just in case it is needed!

Beauty and Her Death

2011-11-20T10:50:00.001-08:00

There was once a beautiful girl who fell in love with Death. They would lie for hours side by side with their fingers intertwined. She would muse with him about death and him, about life. Their world together was simple, as all love is when it's young and new.

Sometimes she would blush, for she yearned, as all young women do in love, to be with him forever. To span the wide horizon of night with him as her light to guide her. To give herself to his seduction. To be whisked away into the night with Death as her eternal companion.

Death was inadvertently drawn to her as any young man would. He would slowly twirl her soft rose-scented hair around his fingers and lift them to his lips. He pined for the smooth press of her red lips against his, but his blackened mouth could only bring death to her life. He loved her too much to risk losing her forever from his side. Bittersweet in his ecstasy and pain he would hold onto her with a tighter grip.

There was once a beautiful girl who was seduced by Death, and Death by her.

Perhaps I should continue this....or make a decent story out of it...

Anyway, I thought it was interesting. Yup.

On a side note, my title makes me giggle. It may just be me. Perhaps I am easily amused.

Yes, it's probably just me.

Dig up the Writing Archives!

2011-11-18T20:53:00.001-08:00

Wow, so I found some OLD poems that I had written back in 2002-3, I didn't post them here, but I added them to my poetry blog:
All We Seem Is But A Dream Within A Dream
There is the link, go check it out~ :D

Dreamscape

2011-09-19T19:28:00.000-07:00

The oceans soft waves rippled alongthe white shore. The man in theelegant black suit walked barefoot toward the gentle foam-tipped water. He reached down and picked up the edgeof the ocean’s frothy lace like a sheet of cloth. The graceful man spoke nothing but what mere body languagecould decipher. She didn’thesitate, but followed his silent request and walked forward under the sheet ofwater. The man walked behind herand in doing so, let the sheet close behind them. The thick heavy press of water rushed in on all sides. Her breath caught in her throat, andshe could not even let out an exclamation of surprise before she was engulfedin the suppressed chill. She wastrapped, floating far below the dark jeweled surface of the water. The man was already in front of her,his eyes bright, and a smile already formed in the corners of his shapelylips. He kissed her and drew forththe last breath from her throat. The bubbles beaded out of her mouth in pops as he pulled away from her moistenedlips.

Bubbles rose from the dark depthsbelow, and very much like champagne, they tickled her exposed skin and shotspeedily toward the surface. Theman unraveled his arm calmly from her waist as the fizz of bubbles overtook himand was gone. The bubbles began tothin and the water appeared to be going with it, stretching violently like anelastic band to the point of breaking. Then all was gone, and all that was left was an inky darkness. Her body tugged at the navel and shewas falling toward nothing, and past nothing that she could tell.

She had been falling so long, thatwhen the sensation stopped she had her eyes closed. She now opened them and gasped. Twinkling yellow stars, and a swirling nebula in shades ofpink, blue, and turquoise with planets large and small intermingled between theclouds of color had illuminated the darkness. He was there again, a mute, never uttering a word in hissharp suit. He reached out hishand and she grasped it. He tookher and wrapped her in his coat jacket that seemed to expand easily to complywith her size.

She woke up in her bed and foundthat her sheets had twisted around herself like a cocoon, like astraightjacket.

The Never-Ending Cycle

2011-08-20T10:21:00.000-07:00

The day was brighter, and not because of the quick withdrawal of winter. How she had forgotten what it was like to feel an attachment that was more than a mere friendship. The uncertainty of what was to blossom was an exciting and intoxicating drug. For too long she had denied – had shut off – any part of herself that demanded more feelings on her part, other than friendship. But was the newly reawakened part of herself only temporary? Or would all hope of being with him be suddenly shattered? Would she be reprimanded for her moment of vulnerability? Her higher and wiser self would laugh and say, “See. I told you it would end like this. Never open yourself up to love again.” And she, the girl, would agree and close herself up once more.

Death in the Place of Sorrow

2011-07-03T17:03:00.000-07:00

She felt death fast approaching and heard the rush of wind in the ears. The pain diminishing as the wind howled louder. Something tugged on the edges of her being but she did not resist. She welcomed the change, the eternal sleep that beckoned so sweetly, so temptingly to her.
In the corners of her mind she was aware of her bodies' struggle for life - but this no longer concerned her and her body drew one last strained and rattled breath before it went still with the cold mask of death that eventually takes us all.

Keeper of the Gates

2011-06-24T15:24:00.000-07:00

WHY HAVEN'T I POSTED THIS YET!! lolol
Okay, so this was for my english class last semester. I even made a plot outline (but only actually used about a quarter of it) ha.. ha.. ha.. *awkward laugh*, also did a character sketch, story outline, and setting description. So, here is what I came up with:

Keeper of the Gates

She stood, a silent sentry scanning the distant horizon. She viewed the jagged tree lines with the flick of her farseeing eyes inhaling the pine scents. She wore a thigh-length fringed animal hide dress tied at the waist with an embroidered buckskin leather belt and hawk feather tipped tassels. Her thick ebony hair and low bangs blew loosely in the breeze, showing off the eagle feather hanging from her long side-braid. If someone had spotted her, they surely would have mistaken her for a reincarnation of a god.

She held her long and ornate spear skillfully in her left hand, poised on the wind for a moments notice. While her right hand rested lightly on her furry companion, Tuwa whose wide paws gouged the earth impatiently with thick curved claws. Tuwa’s large snout tested the air greedily and her intelligent brown eyes scanned the ground below them.

“So, there are deer down there,” Niara remarked to the Grizzly. She bent to the ground lightly touching the dark uprooted earth. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders extenuating the fact that her hair was cut longer on one side than the other. “These tracks are a few days old. They’ve migrated faster this year,” Tuwa’s massive head, the size of a small boulder, bent down and nudged Niara’s elbow. “Alright, alright,” Niara said in response to Tuwa’s impatience.

Niara put on her bison-horned warbonnet whose large horns attached to a furred cap and a heavy beaded forehead on her head. Then, without warning Niara sprang forward. She ran to the very tip of the cliff edge and threw her spear toward the ground below. With the fluidity of a skilled warrior, she whipped herself around and began climbing down the small rock face with almost inhuman agility. Tuwa charged around the cliff looking for a lower point for her to drop - the chase for their next meal had begun.

Niara dropped the last few feet and felt the loamy fertile soil under her bare feet. She pulled her spear out of the ground in front of her and wound her way silently through the trees in a sprint. Weaving under moss covered fallen trees, past broad ferns, and other lush vegetation. She made her way to the meadow that deer had picked as a grazing spot for as long as anyone in Niara’s tribe could remember. She paused and waited for her animal companion Tuwa to join her.

Something cold touched Niara’s legs as light as moth flutters. Startled, Niara looked down and noticed an unexpected encroachment of feathery white fog rolling in tendrils along the forest floor. At that moment Tuwa joins her and instantly stiffens at the sight of the fog. She sniffs it apprehensively, her ears swivel, and she gives a low grunt of displeasure.

“You too?” Niara agrees seeing Tuwa’s own agitation. “Something is not right,” she adds with a shake of her head. “This fog moves as if it has a purpose.”

Thick vines of fog, as chill as the first snow, playfully weaved its way up their legs before falling away and dissipating. Niara stepped up to Tuwa and grabbed a thick fistful of hair and she pulled herself onto Tuwa’s gigantic back. Niara’s bare legs nestled comfortably in the soft fur.

“At least we should find out where this strange fog comes from. I think if we follow the fog to where it’s thickest, it will take us to where it originated, don’t you agree?”

Tuwa snorted in response and ran forward, her large frame lumbering skillfully through the dense forest. They followed the fog to the far end of the valley into the very foothills of the Broadfeet tribe’s Sacred Mountain. This disturbed Niara but she didn’t speak of it to Tuwa. The Sacred Mountain was the most sacred spot in her tribes land. The mountain peak was the spiritual center where the gates from this world and the next are thinned. If someone were to abuse that fact, it could mean the end of all. That is why the Keeper of the Gates along with their animal companion protects the mountain. Niara had been the Keeper ever since her mother died, when Niara was very young, and there hadn’t been a moment when Niara hadn’t been without Tuwa.

They followed the fog further up the mountain and with every step Niara worried what would happen, and what it would mean if the fog had originated from its peaks. Niara was hesitant about expressing her worst thoughts to Tuwa. The wind abruptly picked up carrying with it the smell of moisture. It hung thick in the air as dark clouds approached from overhead. The sudden change of weather was odd but Niara couldn’t dwell on it and Tuwa didn’t seem to notice it at all who was more preoccupied with following the trail of fog.

Without warning, lightening strikes too numerous to count showered Sacred Mountain. Being spooked abruptly, Tuwa roared and stood up and took a few steps back. Niara unable to hang on fell to the ground and rolled into a fetal position. Tuwa quickly huddled against Niara and shielded her from the rocks and dirt that pelted them, and boulders that had been loosened rolled dangerously close to them. The trees creaked uneasily and a few snapped loudly as they broke in two. Rain began to fall in thick sheets and drenched the two of them in a manner of seconds. Spikes of lightning now clawed across the sky as if in a desperate attempt to rent the sky in two. It took all Niara had to stay and not run to the safety of her village. The lightning abated but the sky was still dark and the quick spurt of rain had unfortunately dissipated the fog trail. Tuwa uncurled herself and gave a good shake as water droplets pelted Niara who was just getting up.

“Ergh, now I’m going to smell like wet bear,” she complained.

Tuwa in response turned her large head and gave Niara a playful nip on the arm. Niara patted her companion and picked up her spear when something glistening caught her eye. She didn’t hesitate but ran forward and bent down to the ground utterly confused.

“Tuwa, I don’t remember a pool of water being here?” The water was clear and the depths of the pool seemed to go on innumerably. Niara quickly looked around at the exposed boulders that surrounded them in an almost bowl shape, “Do you think the lightning exposed this area? – what is this?” she spoke suddenly and picked up a considerable sized clay pot that was floating on the waters surface.

Niara analyzed it and read the inscriptions for sealing and containment that covered the jar’s entire surface along with the words, Nukpana. She felt a chill run down her spine and threw the pot back into the water where it floated precariously for a moment before it took in water and sunk to the unfathomable depths of the small pool.

“Nukpana…” she whispered with dread.

Tuwa’s hair practically stood on end and a low growl issued from deep within her chest.

“Nukpana was sealed here, Tuwa. He was kept in that jar and hidden deep in the pool where no one could find him, but somehow he must have escaped,” just saying the words out loud seemed to render Niara immobilized.

The rain eventually stopped but still Niara knelt by the pool as if turned to stone. Her heart raced and a silent dread filled her. She felt herself sinking into blackened despair and knew that she couldn’t possibly kill something as evil and old as Nukpana. She felt any hope she had drain out of her body, but in her darkness of thought a light unexpectedly blossomed. She pictured her mother, unmovable in strength; her father, tall and proud; Tuwa, her strength and responsibility; and she pictured everyone in her village. So many people counted on her. So many didn’t have to worry because she and Tuwa would always be there to protect them. The smoke in Niara’s mind cleared and she knew what she had to do.

“Tuwa, I don’t know fully what we are up against but whatever it is, it is old and it is strong. There is a chance that we might die but we have to try. We have a lot to protect because there are lots of people who are precious to us,” Niara stood and looked into Tuwa’s gentle eyes, in their reflection, Niara knew that Tuwa understood. Niara gave Tuwa a large hug around her neck and they wasted no time in climbing to the peak of Sacred Mountain.

On the summit, a dense forest laid ahead rich with life and echoing in an ancient strength. Niara stayed close to Tuwa as they silently traversed the thick forest. The trees eventually thinned and large stone steps covered the ground in a pattern of a starburst. At the very center of this design was a totem pole. Its girth and height was even taller than the most ancient redwoods. It told the story of the creation of mankind, the start of the Keeper of the Gates, and the origin of their animal companions. This totem marked the precise point where it was thinnest between both worlds. Something moved in the forest in front of them. Niara took a step back and leaned against Tuwa. Both watched in shock and horror at what came out before them.

It’s body and limbs were long and gangly like the creature had been stretched. Every sloppy step it took oozed a thick poisonous liquid from its pores. Before their eyes, the vegetation instantly grew brown and withered away like brittle autumn leaves. It’s crooked grin melted off its not fully developed face. It had no eyes but knew where Niara and Tuwa were either by smell, sound, or some other unnatural method of its own. It turned its melting and reforming face in their direction and walked towards them. It eventually stopped and swayed slightly before speaking.

“Welcome Keeper of the Gates-s,” it’s speech came out in hisses and cracks.

“Who are you and why are you here,” Niara commanded, her voice was shaky but strong.

“I am Nukpana and yet not,” it hissed, “I was once human.”

“Impossible,” Niara flatly stated. “You are Nukpana the demon spirit.”

“I was once an old sage from your tribe in the beginning…long before the Keeper of the Gates-s. Nukpana knowing of my strength stole my spirit and devoured my flesh. I was powerless against his raw power while Nukpana kept me prisoner within himself,” Nukpana grinned messily as if remembering something delightful and continued. “Your mother,” Niara stiffened, “the Keeper, came one day and sealed us away – or should I say sealed Nukpana. For she did not know of my existence,” his voice sparked and cracked in delight. “It was now Nukpana’s turn to be powerless to my will. All the hundreds-s and thousands-s of years-s I lay dormant, I was now awakened and gained his powers and rose to what I am now!” he held out is long thin arms in triumph as they dripped, searing the ground. “perhaps-s,” he toyed, “I should devour you as well? Add your s-strength to my own?”

Tuwa stomped the ground and roared aggressively as Niara aimed her spear and threw it with all her might at Nukpana. It went clean through his body and stuck into the tree behind him. Niara’s eyes widened but didn’t let that slow her down. She grabbed onto Tuwa as she surged forward. They curved around Nukpana, and in passing, Niara dislodged her spear from the tree. They turned and charged at the demon. Nukpana stretched his hand to seize Niara and with her spear she managed to slash his arm clean off. It fell to the ground and splashed its thick contents, burning everything that it came in contact with. Tuwa roared in pain as a large majority of the poisonous liquid hit her side. They toppled and Niara hit the ground hard, her warbonnet rolling away. Even though the human controlled Nukpana’s body, it could not be easily killed like a human. Niara hadn’t been taught yet how to seal something as evil as Nukpana and was hoping to defeat him with strength but it seemed they couldn’t kill the creature with force alone.

Nukpana was making its way toward them. Tuwa tried to get up but couldn’t, the burns ran too deep, she whimpered and tried to lick her wounds to ease the pain. At the same time Niara jumped defensively in front of Tuwa as Nukpana messily shuffled over to them. Than without warning Tuwa grabbed the back of Niara, despite her injuries, and with great force, swung, and flung Niara high in the air where she grabbed hold of the side of the totem pole. At first Niara clung to the rough wood totem, completely flabbergasted as to what had just happened. Niara than turned her head and called down to Tuwa who growled dangerously and snapped her jaws at her. Niara realized that Tuwa must know of something that she did not. After all, Tuwa’s ancestors were created here and Tuwa was born here, so there must be secrets that only she knows. Relying purely on faith, Niara began to climb the massive totem not knowing why she was climbing or if she should be looking for anything in particular.

Nukpana’s arm slashed wildly up at Niara and she felt a hot sting whip across her arm. She shrieked in pain releasing and released her grip on the totem with that arm. She dangled dangerously with only one hand as blood rolled down her opposite arm. She glanced and saw Nukpana wrapping its elongated limbs around the pole and start climbing. Niara had to keep moving. She gritted her teeth and continued to climb despite the pain.

Exhausted, she managed to reach the top and saw nothing but the wide sky above and all around her. The wind blew fiercely but she kept advancing and found in the center of the totem an indent of a hand had been carved and painted white. Without a moments hesitation she placed her hand in the carved mold.

She felt the power held within the totem get released and a blinding light appeared along the length of the totem and spread. Nukpana hissed when the light touched him and he fell to the ground in a blobby heap. His elongated limbs began to reach out like a spider to reform so he could run away, but he found that he could not. A stronger wind was sucking Nukpana into the light as pieces of himself melted off his body and disappeared into its white glow. The creature shrieked, hissed, and clawed the ground viciously. The ooze continued to melt away revealing parts of shiny bone underneath. Finally Nukpana couldn’t resist the pull any longer and was swept into the light with a final crackling scream. The light remained open for a moment longer before it too closed and faded away as Niara collapsed from the pain and fatigue.

The wind calmed and the clouds overhead gave a low rumble and that echoed across the broad expanse. Rain once more began to fall but in an almost humble manner. The blackened stains on the ground washed away and new life immediately sprouted green and bright. Even the wounds committed by Nukpana on the Keeper of the Gates and her animal companion were cleansed. The renewed life grew fast and strong.

Depression

2011-06-13T10:31:00.000-07:00

Depression is like a numerously armed monster. Each limb being different in intensity and experience, but its heart, usually comes from the same dark place.
Here is me trying to explain one such strand, such limb, of this monster called "depression":

You become so depressed - it is like closing your eyes, like you are sleeping. You still walk, you still talk but you are empty, a shell, comatose. You have become so dulled by the pain for so long that you now feel nothing. So you try to do things, anything, to feel again. Each person is different, I turned to cutting. It never hurt to slice open the flesh, that's how numb I was. It was the sight of the blood, the act of bleeding, that let me know I was still, alive.

Mirage Island

2011-04-11T16:58:00.000-07:00

In english class we had to write a story where the author is the main character and is supposed to be real, but everything else is fictional. Erm, yeah.

Mirage Island

Carrisa stood in her white shirt, breeches, and black pirate boots tall and erect at the bow of her very own pirate ship studying the endless horizon that stretched out before her. How many times had she done that? Always looking ahead, always looking to a place beyond her own. The wind blew serenely and she smelled the all-familiar brine of the sea.

Her crew was busy loading the cargo area with barrels of supply and ammunition. She took these last few minutes to herself just gazing out at the open sea and all of the opportunities that lay ahead. She pulled out, from her red-tasseled sash around her waist, a detailed map that had been passed down from captain-to-captain. She studied its contents once more because for years she has been searching and trying to find an island that appears just like a mirage out of the Sahara. This special island was home to the largest treasure in existence. Claiming the treasure was the easy part - it was finding the island that proved difficult. Men had wasted away their lives trying to find the treasure and died never being able to touch its bounty.

Carrisa first heard the legend of Mirage Island when she was six. The pirate ships crew when coming into port would sometimes bring up old stories when they got particularly drunk or sentimental. Those were the times that Carrisa would sit and listen to the grayed men tell the old tales. Carrisa knew the very moment she heard about Mirage Island that someday she would go look for it. When she mentioned this, the men all looked at her and laughed. Some patted her on the shoulder with hollows words of encouragement. Carrisa had always been a bit on the gullible side, always believing in something others thought as unbelievable like when she used to think leprechauns lived in trees. She would go around from tree-to-tree knocking on their trunk “doors” and waiting for an answer. She got made fun of as well but it didn’t stop her from believing, in fact, it provoked the opposite effect and she became more determined to prove them wrong.

When Carrisa was old enough she gained employment on a local pirate ship. She worked hard over the years and moved up in ranks. Soon she was the first officer to the Captain. He was old but still quick-witted and swift like a cat. He didn’t look it but he still had plenty of fight left in him. Years pasted and eventually the Captain passed away. That’s when Carrisa took up role of Captain and no one argued with that.

She wasn’t a fighter but when push came to shove was a natural with guns and had deadly accuracy and those who knew this, stayed clear. She honored the pirates code down to the letter of the law. The crew knew she was tough as nails and that consequences fell upon anyone found breaking those rules. Even so, she hardly evoked fear on the crew or abused her authority. Carrisa felt that there was honor to be found even from those who stole from the wealthy and this brought about pride within the crew. They worked hard for her and knew they would be compensated fairly. They weren’t the scariest crew out there on the open seas but their honor, pride, and determination in battle proved scariest when going up against men who felt nothing but greed. The crews power of spirit couldn’t be dampened.

The cargo was loaded and Carrisa rolled up the map and barked orders to the crew. Sea gulls who had perched themselves on the ship cried out in alarm as the sails were cast downward, and tied up, they flew away back towards the sturdy land squawking the whole way. The sails caught the fresh breeze and expanded eagerly. Carrisa tasted the brine on her lips from the ocean spray coming up and over the helm of the ship. She grabbed onto the wooden-spoke wheel steering the ship northward into uncharted territory known as the death belt of the ocean. As the name suggests, death awaits those who venture into its treacherous waters. But it was quickly becoming the only place left to check. More and more pirates inhabited the better-known areas and started civil wars with each other on a regular basis. Carrisa had doubts and was apprehensive about entering these unknown waters; however, she remembered something that someone once told her, “anything worth doing has fear attached.” Her beliefs in these words were the only thing that kept her levelheaded and steadfast in her decision.

For the next several months the weather was perfect for sailing. This kept the crew in a good mood allowing them to momentarily forget which part of the ocean they were in. Carrisa frequently added new parts of the oceans layout to her map, keeping close calculations on their direction with the help of the stars at night. One such night she was finishing up her calculations and decided to take a small break and walk the deck in contemplation as she had started doing more frequently.

The air was warm with a slight chill from northerly winds and the sky was clear and cloudless. She looked out starboard and saw a large area of stars flickering aggressively. This was not a normal phenomenon. Carrisa squinted her eyes trying to figure out what was causing such a sensation. Her mind thought first to that of an enemy ship, but there were no lights lit on its deck and so quickly dismissed the idea. Her mind leapt to the next possibility. It took her a few moments for the thought to fully sink in with what she was seeing. She ran to the bow of the ship and grabbed onto the lines to balance herself on the bowsprit that stuck out in front of the ship for a better look. The wind was stronger now and emanating from the mysterious phenomenon, she had to grab onto her tricorn hat so it wouldn’t blow away.

Something massive and dark stood out against the sky blotting out the stars much larger than ship. A gentle rippling appeared on the waters surface reflecting what appeared to be a cluster of twinkling lights. A flux of waves slapped the hull of the ship. Carrisa almost shouted out in a mixture of alarm and joy as she stared in disbelief trying to take in the sight before her. She pulled out her seascope and smiled widely as she began laughing from the joy that overtook her. Large paper lanterns lit up a dock that had appeared, and a string of more lanterns wound its way up and through the foliage of this fertile island.

Carrisa rang the ships bell as a crew of befuddled, half-dressed men, swords drawn. They were grumbling and cursing loudly as they came up to the deck. It took them a moment in their comatose state to see what the entire ruckus was about. They stood in stunned silence, staring at the scene before them. Before they broke out in a roar of cheers, applause, laughter, merry cursing and congratulating each other. Preparations were immediately made to inspect the island and all that she held.

All the years of sacrifice for Carrisa had paid off. She had found what others had only dreamed of, what many more thought had never existed. But here it was staring out at her with its lights lit up in a greeting she could not refuse.

Mello

2011-02-13T09:11:00.000-08:00

The beginning and the end may be familiar to some who were around and read my writing exercises. This is basically a more depth continuation of the two that I did for my fiction writing class. Enjoy~

Mello

Mello knew the outcome as the first shots from a submachine gun rang out. Somehow he wasn’t surprised. How many years had he killed the innocent and the guilty, torn families apart, and made enemies of strangers and friends? Mello’s line of work wasn’t one with a happy and long retirement. He’d be lucky to live past the age of 35. Only the best in his field could stay on top of the game. He was good, he admitted, but not that good. He turned over a table on the hotels lobby balcony and pulled out his .45 from under his suit jacket. He carefully peered over the lip of the table to see which assassin it was that held such a grudge against him to not even make it a clean hit.

“Nero.” He muttered as he identified the assassin.

He knew he shouldn’t be surprised and yet he was. She was a prodigy in the field – cold and cunning. All human emotion had been severed after her family’s death. After the incident Mello practically raised her, but he wasn’t ever what you’d call a father figure. Secretly in the dark recesses of his mind he knew she’d hunt him down in the end. What he knew, what he did, and what he didn’t do concerning her family. Looking back, it was all inevitable.

Being an assassin wasn’t a career you dream of when you’re a child, it’s more of something that you sort of fall into. More so when you’re young, stupid, and looking to get rich fast. Mello had been recruited when he was 13, with the promise of never having to live off the streets again, never being hungry and never having to watch your younger siblings starve to death. His deadbeat dad never did anything but drink and gamble, while Mello witnessed his mother falling deeper into a melancholy coma everyday. His parents not able to take care for him and his younger brother and sister. Mello took up the role as provider. It was hard to bring in money without his dad finding out and giving Mello a beating for withholding what his dad assumed was his rightful money. So when Mello got an opportunity of a lifetime proposed to him, he accepted without any thought of the consequences.

His family not knowing what had happened to him assumed he ran away or was dead. But Mello had been working as an assassin for a large company he in fact knew very little about but all that didn’t matter to Mello. He was able to now fully provide for his family and the first thing he did was anonymously pay the tuition in full to have his younger siblings attending an out-of-state private school. They could now have hot meals everyday, hot showers, new clothes, and a soft bed to sleep in. Mello had arranged it so they would never have to want for anything ever again.

For the next 12 years, Mello worked on honing his skills and techniques. The murders committed by his hands, he rationalized, were what allowed him to care for his family. That was the motivation that pushed him forward. Pushed him to lock away any feelings of empathy or compassion he had far into the darkest part of his heart. With every kill he felt a part of himself break away and crumble; but, he couldn’t go back, couldn’t look back at the wake of the death he had committed against himself.

Mello was 25 when he had been teamed up with another assassin for a mission involving the Prime Minister of a foreign country. The job was to be simple and clean, kill the Prime Minster with no further casualties. The company wanted the job to be done quietly with as little media attention as possible, make the murder appear as an accident. Mello had heard, by reputation alone, of this woman named Ghost that he was to be teamed up with. It was said the she had volunteered for the assassin gig. Mello didn’t care why she had joined, he would just be happy when the hit was done. Assassins preferred to work alone, and therefore usually didn’t work well with others who had their own hardnosed opinions on how the target should leave this world to the next. The longer a job went on, the greater the risk became that one assassin would simply kill the other out of annoyance and wanting a bigger pay cut.

When Mello met Ghost for the first time, he had to hold back the urge to kill her. He felt something wasn’t right with her and working closely with her only confirmed this. She appeared as slippery as a snake and pokerfaced to match. Mello was constantly on his guard.

The night of the hit everything was going according to plan. The Prime Minister was heading to his vacation home to relax before starting another re-election campaign. Mello and Ghost had arrived a week before to setup the “gas explosion” that would end the Prime Minister life. He arrived with a few armed men but that night he was joined by his wife and young daughter. Mello’s stomach lurched uncomfortably; the daughter was a splitting image of his little sister when she had been eight. He remembered the company’s words, that the fewer the casualties the better so he carefully brought this up to Ghost whose lips curled amusingly.

“Are you going to ruin my fun?” she asked dangerously.

“We should at least leave the child alone.” He said touching the subject casually.

“Why? She’s no use to us alive.” She said in a dismissive tone.

“She’s only a child.” Mello pointed out.

Ghost did answer for a while, instead worked on sharpening her knife.

“I’ve been around long enough to know that the company doesn’t care how many die, as long as the target is taken care of.” She ran her thumb along the edge of the knife, testing its sharpness. The conversation was over. “But…” Ghost started up again, “If she doesn’t get in my way, I’ll think about sparing her.”

Mello nodded and felt some relief and hoped Ghost would keep her promise. That very night, Mello with his .45 pistol with silencer easily took care of the perimeter guard. It was child’s play. Ghost in the meanwhile had breached the house to take care of the Prime Minister. Mello dragged the guards’ bodies into the house when he heard the screams. He headed to the dining room where the family had been eating dinner. The Prime Minister was begging and trying to spark up a bargain to spare their lives, but it fell of on deaf ears. The mother was in tears bent over on the floor clutching the small body of her daughter. Mello felt slight regret that she had not been spared from the ordeal and tried not to look at the girl that reminded him so much of his sister. Ghost aimed her 9mm pistol at the mother than the father; the shots rang out in quick succession.

“Are the other bodies inside?” Ghost asked as she holstered her weapon and Mello nodded. “Good, lets get out of here.”

The fire started soon after sending heat and flame skyward when a shrill scream pierced the night. Mello’s eyes grew wide.

“You left her to burn to death!” Mello yelled spinning on the spot to face Ghost.

“I only pistol-whipped the brat, like I care how she dies.” Mello went for his gun, but she already had hers drawn. “How about I kill you. The house will go up in flames along with you and no will be the wiser. You would be a harmless casualty along with everyone else.”

Mello heard glass breaking and the girl coughing as her small form stumbles for a while before collapsing. Regardless of what Ghost might do, Mello surged forward to get the girl away from the consuming inferno. She had passed out, had a large gash on her head and few scrapes and cuts but other than that she was fine. Mello turnd to Ghost but she had already vanished into the night.

For the next 10 years, Mello raised Nero in the arts of assassination. Early on, he had seen the spark of fire beneath her dark eyelashes that sought revenge, but theses moments were so fleeting that Mello chose to ignore them. He instead worked on training Nero who was like a sponge, she learned easily and excelled very quickly. Mello ultimately left Nero when she was fully capable of taking care of herself and he was no longer needed. He had taught her everything that he knew. Over the years, Mello had heard plenty of rumors about her and no doubt was rapidly gaining in the ranks.

The screams in the five-star hotel had died down, lights that hadn’t been completely destroyed by the firefight flickered and buzzed erratically. Bullet holes rattled the walls and up the wrapping staircases to the balcony above. Glass in the wide windows that spanned the entire front of the hotel were gone and the extravagant chandelier lay shattered in pieces in front of the two duelists.

Nero took a slow step forward toward Mello, her compact MP5-K at her side, her shoes crunching the chandelier shards. A bash to the head just above the hairline of her stark black hair left a wet red line trailing down the side of her pale face. Mello was on his knees, shirt blossoming in crimson. His right hand was tightly gripping his left shoulder where a bullet had gone through. His own gun lay in front of him, but he was unable to pick it up with his dead arm. He was bleeding profusely from his abdomen and his breathing was heavy and rattled.

As Mello sat there, he concluded that Nero had been patient in hiding her true intentions, or he was just too blind to have seen them. Whatever was the cause, as he looked back, he didn’t see anything that he would have done differently. He had no regrets. It had all come down to this moment, and deep down, he always knew it would. It was only a matter of time, and he knew he had none left.

Sweat rolled off his forehead but he kept a calm face, resolute to his fate. Nero unholstered her pistol and Mello looked up the barrel of her sleek 9mm, the very same model that had been used to end Nero’s family all those years ago.

“So it has come to this.” He said with labored breath.

“So it has.” Coolly replied the other.

Seraphina of Adamaras - Part 2

2011-01-20T18:36:00.000-08:00

So here it is folks, part 2, the conclusion, the end, fin, goodbye, never again. (yeah, I'm a dork.)

Seraphina of Adamaras - Part 2

The next morning she was heading down toward the market to meet up with Aries when unexpectedly the day became dark, even the sunstones dulled their usual bright light. Seraphina paused in confusion and everything in the city grew silent. No one knew how to react to the sudden and unusual change. Someone screamed. More people started screaming in reaction to it. Soon people were panicking. Seraphina was still frozen in the midst of the frenzy staring up at the inky blackness above. Aries suddenly swept in, grabbed her waist and pulled her out of harms way from the oncoming stampede and into an alley.

“Are you all right?” he asked breathlessly.

“Huh? Oh yes.” Seraphina said offhandedly.

Aries looked at her with concern.

“I was calling out to you, did you hear me?”

“You were?”

The darkness left and there was light again pouring in from the holes in the craggy rocks above.

“Look! Its gone!” Seraphina said and she ventured back out into the light glimmering softly. Aries didn’t look to certain.

“What do you think it was?” She asked. She felt like in the darkness there was something living, watching. She couldn’t really explain it, but she was curiously drawn to it. It felt familiar and that kind of frightened her.

“I think we should head back.” Aries was saying.

Seraphina agreed and they both turned to head to the palace. They didn’t have time to mention the kiss the night before. When they reached the palace they were thrown into the frenzy of things. Nymphs were urgently rushing back and forth and when they got to the throne room. Diara threw her arms around Seraphina. Seraphina listened as Diara, her chief advisor and her war generals tried to determine what had happened. Many felt it was nothing serious since it passed over so quickly. It could have been a shark, a pod of whales, or a large floating metal seed that sometimes passed overhead. Aries cited his thoughts and offering help if needed with exploration parties.

After the meeting Aries pulled Seraphina aside, his two weeks were coming to end, but with this new mysterious danger he wanted to extend his stay until he knew she’d be safe. It wasn’t necessary but all the same it made Seraphina feel cared for. Seraphina’s mother on the other hand had grounded Seraphina to the palace grounds until it was revealed what the shadow was. Seraphina objected and tried talking sense into her stating that Aries would be with her, she’d be safe, but Diara wouldn’t hear any of it. It was frustrating for Seraphina and made her feel like a prisoner in her own home.

A week after the incident the palace was still just as busy. It was impossible to get a second alone with Aries without someone bursting in and interrupting them. He was usually busy talking to generals about the safety of the palace and borders and always seemed to be needed anywhere else but with Seraphina. It was around this time that Seraphina finally convinced her mother to let her out of the palace for a half an hour each day stating that she wouldn’t go out of the city and would only stick to the main areas. Her mother had finally caved after constant nagging over the week and Seraphina wasted no time to escape.

She was just reaching the market with the usual bustle of water nymphs buying and selling when everything became dark. There was a general hush; everyone seemed to be waiting for it to pass like before but then something fast and dark slithered in through a hole in the mountain. Someone screamed. Seraphina turned toward the noise and saw someone being pulled up toward the blackness. Everyone stared in shock. A colossal whiny roar shook the whole city followed by hundreds of fat curling tentacles speeding toward the ground and grabbing anything they could wrap around. Panic ensued. The screams were everywhere. “It’s a Kraken!” some yelled. Everyone was jostling to get away from its spongy limbs. Seraphina turned and started sprinting toward the palace. It was hard with everyone bumping together. A tentacle went speeding and clumsily toward her and shot to the ground just missing her. At that moment another tentacle cut her off she back peddled in the water to stop herself from running into it. Instead choosing to swim up and around.

“Seraphina!” She heard someone yell searchingly through the midst of noise.

“Aries!” she called back looking for him.

She was being shoved and pushed around as more water nymphs were being picked off around her; their screams only ceasing when they entered the darkness.

“Seraphina!”

She spotted Aries swimming fast towards her with a trident in one hand. He grabbed her and held her close to him as they both made off toward the Palace. Soldiers began to appear and fanned out to help others find safety in the deeper parts of the mountain, while other squads went to attack the monster head on. Aries and Seraphina were less than halfway to the Palace when Seraphina suddenly lurched back and then was pushed forward. She spun around; Aries was struggling against a black tentacle that had wound its way around him. He was still holding the trident but it was pinned to his body, completely useless. Seraphina called out to him and rushed forward.

“No!” he yelled motioning to Seraphina with his free hand and then he too was sucked in to the darkness. She held back her tears and instead rushed back to the Palace as fast as she could. She entered the war room where the generals and her mother were planning the next wave of attack. Diara saw her and with an exclamation dashed forward.

“You are safe! You are safe!”

Seraphina was too preoccupied to notice. She seized a triton from the nearest guard and with all her strength smashed it into the wall. Guards started yelling and attempted to get the triton away from her.

“Seraphina what are you doing!” her mother shrieked.

Seraphina swiftly turned around with steeled determination; she bared her teeth, and fended off the guards.

“It took him! The Kraken! Took Aries right in front of me!” With the strength of her despair she hit the wall again and a sunstone loosened. Seraphina swiped it, holding the large rock in the palm of her hand. She ripped off her necklace and used it to quickly attach the sunstone to the triton. Her mother was in hysterics.

“No don’t! There’s nothing you can do! Don’t be like your father! Oh!” she swooned. “Guards get her quick!”

But it was too late. Seraphina had left.

“Illias!” she yelled as she swam, “Illias!”

She heard a neigh in reply as he came bolting toward her. Without stopping she grabbed onto his mane, felt the sudden increase of speed, and pulled herself onto his back.

She had to do something. She couldn’t just sit around. Seraphina had to save him, besides Aries would have done the same for her.

“You’re not going like this.” she mentioned to Illias, but he seemed to sense what she was going to do anyway. He flung his head back and gave a loud neigh as he charged forward and gaining altitude.

In a manner of seconds they were dodging the arms of the Kraken. Illias was fast and agile in the water as he spun, rolled, ducked and gave bursts of speed to keep out of reach. The tentacles were fast so they had to try and keep one step ahead of them. Seraphina had pushed herself as flat as she could on Illias’s back to help him maneuver better in the water.

“There!” She pointed to Illias. There was a small opening that a tentacle couldn’t get through but was just the right size for a sea nymph. They raced toward it. It was getting more murky as they gained altitude. Seraphina held out the triton in front of her and the sunstone illuminated just enough to see a few feet a head of them. When they reached the hole, she dismounted and wasted no time crawling through. On the other end she poked her head out and say nothing but shadow. There was a black mist on the water. Seraphina wondered what it was until she tasted it; it was blood. There was another whiny growl from the Kraken and Seraphina had to brace herself against the hole to keep the push of currents from carrying her away. She felt a rumble and noticed that the large shadow was moving; its tentacles were dislodging themselves and pulling away from the mountainside. The Kraken couldn’t leave yet. She needed to find Aries.

Seraphina sped forward with a battle cry. The closer she got to the creature the thicker the mist of blood was. She was grateful she had the sunstone with her. She suddenly punched through the bloody water and was face to face with the kraken. She suppressed a scream of terror. Its skin was black and oily, it had large white eyes, its gigantic mouth was open and Seraphina could see the numerous rows of jagged teeth that were each larger than she was. She noticed that the Kraken was bleeding. There was a gash just above its eye. Hope rushed through her cleansing the terror. She called out to Aries but heard nothing.

“Seraphina?” Someone said following her light; it was Aries. “What are you doing here?” he exclaimed when he saw her. He looked exhausted and his triton had blood on its tips.

“Getting you of course!”

“ I’m alright, I more worried about you. You need to get out of here-.”

“I came here for you! I’m not going back empty handed!” Seraphina was starting to get angry the kraken was bound to notice them soon.

“I can take care of the Kraken by myself.”

“No!” Seraphina said, “Not like my father!” She gasped and Aries stared at her. Seraphina’s memory had come back. Seraphina as a child had been taken by a Kraken; her father went after her by himself. He saved her and she was found alive but he was gone and so was the kraken.

She didn’t have time to explain this as a tentacle tried to swat them away from its face like noisy flies. They dodged and countered. Aries went for the tentacle and Seraphina sped toward the great glossy white eye and plunged her triton into it. Black blood oozed out and the creature squealed, Aries came at that moment and struck the other eye. The Kraken collapsed on the ocean floor. Sand rose and its tentacles whipped and curled viciously. Seraphina couldn’t see a thing even with sunstone when she was hit hard in the stomached and smashed into something hard. Everything went numb in the blackened deep.

Seraphina of Adamaras - Part 1

2011-01-19T19:05:00.000-08:00

This is a short story that I wrote last year. I thought I had added this to my blog, but I checked and I hadn't. So here is Part 1, I'll put up Part 2 later~ (aka when I'm not feeling as lazy)

The original inspiration for this was, I wanted to do something different than I usually do (challenge myself). When I got the idea to do a underwater theme I knew I didn't want to do mermaids. Everyone does mermaids. I decided to do something else~ (which you'll find out if you keep reading :) I really had fun trying to figure out this world, what their markets would look like, beds, chairs, houses, gates and what materials they would build these things out of? It was fun. So please enjoy the story. <3

Seraphina of Adamaras - Part 1

Seraphina’s eyes of teal were expressive and her full dark lashes looked like delicate seaweed. She swam, her thin limbs moving effortlessly through the water. She had graceful fins that fanned out from the sides of her wrists and ankles. The light filtered down through the depths of the ocean and her skin shone for a brief moment like gems; a beautiful mixture of jade, and sapphire. Her pointed ears lay hidden by her long black hair that trailed behind her like tendrils of an octopus.

She swam purposefully weaving through the thick mesh of seaweed and plants that swayed slowly together as if under a trance. The light that shined above could not penetrate the greenery but if you were lucky you could spot flashes of viridian and turquoise in between the seaweed’s swirling vines. Further she went and the darker everything became until she reached a familiar round door wrought of smooth coral. A fallow light was cast around the edges of the door. She pushed the door gently open the light inside blinded her for a second before her eyes adjusted.

Adamaris, the noble city of the sea was built in the roots of an underwater mountain. Light from rare sunstones helped illuminate the submerged city beautifully. Seraphina could see that the city was filled with its usual clamor; streets were lined with merchants, selling fresh oysters, squid on a stick, woven kelp tapestry, shell jewelry of every kind, and pet emperor angelfish, clownfish, jellyfish all attached in place by long thin strands of string. Children water nymphs were chasing each other around their parents who were sternly telling them to calm down, or smugly showing off their new pets to their friends.

“I’ll have two squids.” Seraphina said to the squid merchant and as he handed her the sticks she gave him a gold coin. She continued through the market and slowly wound her way past carved archways and pillars until she got to a large set of gates made of fan coral. The two guards saw her and let her pass.

She got her to her room and swam to the balcony pulling away the kelp drapes.

“Illias!” she called out.

A moment later a large sea-horse came swimming onto view. He had a head and front legs of a horse with a long white mane, and a blue prehensile tail of a water dragon. He swam at full speed and only stopped after he had run into her. Seraphina unhurt laughed and embraced her dear pet. Illias immediately smelled the squid and sniffed imploringly nudging Seraphina’s shoulder with his soft horse muzzle.

“You don’t miss a thing.” Seraphina said laughing. She gave him one of the squid sticks, which he grabbed with his tail and began to eat heartily.

Seraphina sat on a soft large anemone. It tickled her gently as it swayed in the waters currents. Once Illias had finished with his snack he positioned himself by Seraphina, resting his head on her lap and let out a snort of content. Seraphina closed her eyes, exhausted.

*****

Seraphina was being nudged awake very persistently.

“Seraphina darling the Aurelian’s are almost here.”

Seraphina batted her eyelashes.

“Huh? What?”

“The Aurelian’s from the northern seas and Aries is with them. You remember Aries, you two used to play together as children before your father-“ she stopped abruptly “well…” she took a deep breath.

“I know Mom.” Seraphina said and trying to smile reassuringly, “it will be good to see an old playmate again.”

She and her mother hadn’t talked about her father since he died, Seraphina was eight at the time and coincidently it was the same day that she lost her memory. Amnesia, the doctors said at the time, was only temporary but she never got her memory back. She tried asking the people around her what had happened but no one ever told her anything. She finally gave up asking. Her mother, Diara, she saw went through so much pain from the loss of Seraphina’s father and Seraphina’s memory that to try and ease her mother’s own suffering Seraphina lied and told her that she had gotten her memories back. Diara seemed to improve a little from that fact and has since then, been the ruler of Adamaris in Seraphina’s fathers steed.

“The Aurelian’s should be here in the next half-hour, I want you ready and waiting with me in the throne room.” Seraphina nodded and Diara left with her shell necklaces and anklets clinking gently.

*****

Seraphina had never been so nervous in her life. She sat on her anemone-padded coral chair next to her mothers twitching. She thought she could handle meeting an old childhood friend but the more she thought about the more she realized how bad of an idea it was. Everyone thought she had gotten her memory back, if she’s outed. Well, she didn’t want to think about what would happen and how her mother would surely look at her like someone who had betrayed her. She groaned and flicked her foot up and down.

“Don’t worry I’m sure Aries is just as nervous.” Her mother said reassuringly. Which usually wouldn’t work but today it didn’t. Maybe Aries would be too nervous himself or shy to even talk to Seraphina! She mused. This worked to her advantage and hoped that this would be the case. It would make the whole next two weeks so much more bearable and then the only thing she’d have to worry about would be to not spend a lot of time with him. If he was too nervous the first day, who’s to say he wouldn’t warm up the next and start blabbing about the things they did and said. Seraphina would have to keep her distance as well if she wanted her plan to work and the more she plotted the more at ease she felt.

A few minutes later the Aurelian’s enter the throne room swimming past the carved pillars that line the walk. The man in front Seraphina noticed was handsome. He had dark hair, emerald eyes and his skin was a mixture of deep greens and bright gold. Diara greeted him warmly and Seraphina knew the man must be Aries. He seemed to have a golden glow around him as he smiled and gave a warm greeting in return.

“…it is good to be back after so long.” He was saying.

“My Prince, it has truly been too long. Seraphina and I have been looking forward to your visit.”

He turned toward Seraphina and kissed her hand.

“Pleasure to see you again.” He said with a wink.

In an instant of horror she realized her plan wouldn’t work - Aries wasn’t the shy type. Indeed over the next couple of days he was constantly pestering Seraphina who tried time after time to make excuses to leave his presence.

One day as Seraphina was making her getaway he popped in front of her.

“Are you trying to ignore me?” Aries said teasingly.

“No.”

“Really? You’re so different from when you were younger. I couldn’t get you away from me! Always asking me to marry you. It was pretty annoying at the time...” He reflected dramatically putting one hand to his chin.

“What!”

“You don’t remember?” He signed heavily, “Girls sure are fickle, can’t even remember their first crushes.” He shook his head disappointedly and tried not to laugh.

“I-…You-..Wh-“ Seraphina stuttered shacking a finger at him trying not to blush so instead she turned around to swim off.

“Seraphina!” he called after her, “I didn’t insult you did I? I’m just talking as we used too as friends! Do you not remember?”

“I- I remember other things but not that.” She said airily turning around, not making eye contact.

“Like what!” he laughed in jest.

Seraphina opened her mouth closed it. She couldn’t think of any lie or excuse. She turned around again to leave. Aries grasped her arm looking serious and said in a whisper.

“They told me you had regained your memory….but it’s a lie isn’t it?” He said releasing her. Seraphina put on a smile and was about to make a joke about it.

“Don’t lie. At least not to me…please.”

She looked up at him. He wasn’t angry, disappointed, or any other emotion she thought he would display. His expression was soft with caring and concern for her. She didn’t know what possessed her but she found herself telling him everything. He didn’t interrupt her as she told him her whole story and after she was done Aries reached forward giving her a tight hug. When he finally released her he said:

“I’m sorry I don’t know what happened to your father so I can’t help you there, but if you want, I’ll tell you everything else you don’t remember. Like the time you begged my parents to let me stay with you forever.”

“I didn’t do that!” Seraphina said smacking him in the arm and Aries laughed.

“Your right, you never did. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind if you did!”

Seraphina laughed. She felt better than she had in years. Just having one person know of her situation and understand made her feel weightless, relaxed and eased.

The rest of the day and the next week was spent with Aries telling her stories of the things they did, say, and what trouble they used to get into. Seraphina couldn’t remember a better time. They visited the market almost everyday, went out of the city for swims, and she introduced him to Illias; which coincidently they already knew each other. They met like old friends and playfully started wrestling almost immediately.

“Sleep well my Princess.” Aries said one night as they were saying goodnight to each.

“Goodnight.” Seraphina said and reached up kissing him on his golden cheek, she smiled and quickly left leaving the stunned Aries behind.

When Seraphina got to her room she squealed and flopped herself down on the anemone bed. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, but a sudden urge to kiss him had come over her and before she knew it, she had kissed him. She didn’t regret it but was even happier. She liked Aries, no; she really cared for him she corrected. Still smiling she tried to fall asleep but found it profoundly difficult.

Love Shack Baby! That's Where It's At!

2010-08-25T14:13:00.000-07:00

It was decided that he was male. Everyday he was out there sitting on the part of the gutter drain that ran off the roof and down along the apartment wall. This mostly horizontal piece of metal became his favorite spot. He'd fly up in the early morning, comfortably fluff himself up and proceed to sing his delicate and sincere bird song down below to the residents of our apartment complex.

This continued for weeks, and the more I saw him fluffed up on his perch singing from sun up to sun down the more enamored I became with him. He wasn't bothered by the loud humans a mere couple of feet away in their apartment for nothing could deter him from his task.

One day he was gone. Vanished. I started to worry that a predator had gotten him. I had gotten used to my mealtime serenades and so always keep an eye out.

It was many days until I saw him again. This time he had twigs in his beak, I saw him again with bugs, than a female appeared on his perch! Ah! He's found a mate! I was so happy that another bird had heard his sincere calls and had learned to appreciate him. Over the next few days, I fancied him a "family man", constantly with little bugs in his beak, providing for his family. I started to romanticize his new position in his family: him taking turns to watch/guard/feed the babies with his new wife-bird. What devotion!

I came for lunch and sat down to peer out onto his perch. There he was, all ruffled and doing it with another bird that I'm sure wasn't his wife-bird - and in the daylight for all to see! I was shocked, like you would be if you found out that the Pope owned a strip joint.

I couldn't bear to bring this up to my mom so I remained silent.

The next day at breakfast I saw him doing it yet again! I kept silent, adverted my eyes and continued eating my oatmeal.

My feeling for the lil bird had now changed and I surmised: He's a pimp. Luring females to his "love shack" perch with his sweet song.

A couple of days later as I was in my room checking my email when my mom came in looking worried.
"I think your bird is mating!"
and sure enough he was! He ended up doing it in front of our window no less than three times that day. I think maybe we should have set up a video camera and done a Discovery Channel documentary.

Poetry Workshop

2010-08-25T13:31:00.000-07:00

Lulz, I already posted this on my poetry blog, but had to share it on this one also. xD

While on on vacation this summer, I got to go to a pretty cool poetry workshop. One of the things we did was write our own poem, but there were rules that we had to follow. I'll explain them as I go on.

We were split into groups and given a word: "Red" and we had to write something that came to mind like, red car, red blood, red rose, etc.. I got "red light" than we had to take the letter of the first word (so with "r" from "red") and go three letters down the alphabet (that would be "u") and create a new word that would go with our second word (light) so here is what I got:

red - light - ultraviolet
smooth - skin - vulnerable
soothing - lips - velvet
beautiful - perfume - exotic
fast - car - indigo

After we had finished, we had to take the new words that we wrote and create a poem with it. So I had to use ultraviolet light, vulnerable skin, velvet lips, exotic perfume, and indigo car, all in the new poem. We didn't have a lot of time so the writing process was very intuitive and you really couldn't edit your stuff and sit and meditate on the best phrase to express "happy" lolol or something like that. Once we wrote out the poem we had to read it backwards, it actually turned out quite interesting! Some people's poems made more sense backwards!! XD
So here is mine backwards:

The indigo car speeds towards it's destination,
Under vulnerable skin,
The lick of velvet lips and the smell of exotic perfume,
Full of neon and ultraviolet lights,
A city scape at night.

Now, here is my poem right-side-up:

A city scape at night,
Full of neon lights and ultraviolet lights,
The lick of velvet lips and the smell of exotic perfume,
Under vulnerable skin,
The indigo car speeds towards it's destination.

Our group members would choose two lines that they liked the best, and from those two lines we would create another poem. Here is my finished result:

The indigo car speeds towards its destination
As the engine growls beneath it's whine,
The pavement lines slip away one by one like boyfriends falling by the wayside,
The lick of velvet lips
Groove to the beat as she pursues her next catch.

lololol, I was told that it was "sassy" :D

If anyone wants to try this, I would love to see how you did ^^

This American Realizes She’s a Prat and Isn’t Too Surprised

2010-07-26T19:46:00.000-07:00

My excuse is that I’m on vacation – and so is my mind.

My school has decided that the students needed to be punished and now have to pay for their bus passes per semester instead of being free. Sweet, sweet, F-R-E-E. Us student have grown rather used to being lavished with a free bus pass.

So NOW,
We aren’t too happy. We have run wild like spoiled children and now have to be spanked by our grumpy grandparent (college). Gone are the days of our child-like innocence as we are thrust into the harsh realities of the world.

The website the school gave me to buy the deviously new and shiny bus pass didn’t work. Humph.
Now, I have NEVER been good with leaving messages. I end up rambling on and on about things that don’t even matter. TMI, TMI!! I bet they are mentally shouting back at me. I can’t help it. When faced with something that doesn’t talk back (i.e. message machine) I say whatever comes to my mind and spit it out without a thought AND in the midst of all this I laugh and giggle nervously. It’s quite pathetic.

But I called and left a message with one of the numbers they left to contact for questions. I gave a grand explanation as to why I was calling, how I couldn’t get on the website, told him I was on vacation, the exact place of my summer fun, the precise date of when I’d be back, and other worries I had about the obtaining of the pass, that were in no way relevant. But I still hung up the phone quite happy that I had taken the initiative and had not slacked off till the day before school started.

The whole day went and no phone calls from school. It suddenly struck me that I hadn’t left my phone number!
CRAP! I’m so used to cell phones with their snazzy “call waiting” and “missed calls” features that it never occurred to me that my school might still use archaic phone systems.

I called the guy back, and had to leave ANOTHER message.
My onewaywretchedmessagefromtheabyssconversation went something like this:

ME: Hi! My name is Carrisa. Um, I called earlier about the bus passes and forgot to leave my number! Ha-ha-ha That happens to everyone RIGHT?
ANSWERING MACHINE: no response.
ME: Well, Ha-ha-ha. I was calling about the buying the bus passes because I can’t get the link that was sent to my email working?? Hope you can help me out!! Ha-ha-ha
ME: (Internal Monologue): DURR! Of course he can he’s in charge of the whole operation… END THE SUFFERING!! ABANDON SHIP!!
ME: Hoping to talk to you soon!
ME: (Internal Monologue): I sound like a newscaster! “aa-nd BACK to the stu-DIO!”

All-in-all it wasn’t my most brilliant conversation, came out sounding like a complete prat. I can take comfort though in knowing I will NEVER EVER meet this guy in real life – thank goodness.

OYE!! YOU THERE!!

2010-07-20T11:37:00.000-07:00

Now that I have you're attention~

I'm looking for people who want to become co-authors, contributers, whatever you wanna call it for my new blog Duchess of Imagination's Pleasurable Book Reviews.

It's not very hard, basically read a book and follow the format I've been using for all of my previous reviews...and ta-da!

If your interested or have any further questions let me know!

Hey Kiddies!

2010-07-17T18:06:00.000-07:00

I haven't been too active lately. I've been busy spending my summer vacation in California. Its been great to get away.

I have updated my poetry site:
http://cryingtreeofmercury.blogspot.com/

Feel free to check it out since I never upload my poetry on this blog. ^^

Other than that. I've written a few thing but haven't typed it up, nor have I decided whether or not I am going to put it online or not... *ponders*

Have a great day! hope you are all enjoying your summer vaca!!

BBBLLLOOOGGGGGGG (Blog)

2010-05-27T11:55:00.000-07:00

I've decided I need a new blog in my life. I already have one strictly for poetry, one for all my other writing (this one), and now I have one for my reading! Basically I read a book and tell you about it! I have read many books that want to talk about them!! But they don't really fall into my two other blogs, so I made a new one! Please check it out! Become a follower! and enjoy!

Duchess of Imaginations' Pleasurable Book Reviews

I'll be updating it as quickly as I can! It will be a great website to pipe in your thoughts of a book's like or dislike, and if you need a book to read just browse the author categories on the right margin and see if any perk your interest!

You're Listening To The Radio

2010-05-25T19:12:00.000-07:00

Topic For: May 25, 2010

You're Listening To The Radio

Your stomach drops. The grip holding your heart captive tightens. The throat constricts. Eyes of glass, the lyrics sting deep and the music rolls off unobserved. The memory eclipses. There were once two people. Two hearts. They shared and dreamed until they knew each other implicitly and completely. Their hearts intertwined. This requiem was theirs alone.

To fall in love was easy but to endure was painful.

Write About A Time Somebody Told You A Secret

2010-05-16T19:12:00.000-07:00

This was for a writing exercise that I never finished. I got as far as the date and topic and left the rest blank in my writing journal. So today I decided to finish it.

Topic For: December 27, 2009

Write About A Time Somebody Told You A Secret

I was taught that a secret was sacred, special. Something you’d take with you to your grave, something you’d die over before telling it to someone else. To keep a secret would make you honorable. To not speak of the secret would make you trustworthy. This is how I felt when my friend Brittany told me the most important secret, of who she had a crush on in the fifth grade.

I've decided after writing this that I was a very serious child in some respects and perhaps a little dramatic in my feelings especially when it came to secrets.

FOLIO Reading

2010-05-15T10:52:00.000-07:00

I've been wanting to write this for sometime but with school ending, finals, and then leaving a week later for California (in Cali right now) I haven't had time to write this blog entry about the Folio reading.

As my last post said I got published in our schools literary journal that comes out every semester. It was exciting and scary! About a week before the Folio was being published I got an email that they wanted the writers to do a reading of their work for the Folio's launch party. I think I was more nervous for the reading than for finals! :D Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a public speaker!! I'd rather eat lead, be shot and/or stabbed. It really is a terrifying thing.

The day of the reading came (April, Tuesday 27th 2010) and I actually did my hair (yes yes and it was not in a ponytail) ;p I straightened my hair and boy I looked sexy! lololol

But whenever I do my hair the weather turns to the worse. It either rains, snows, or freak sand storms. Today it was a freak sand storm. I say that because it was so windy it was blowing up all this dust and dirt and you couldn't see a few blocks from where you were. All you say was a wall of dust.

By the time I got to the campus I'm surprised my hair didn't look like a birds nest.

I was surprised how many people were actually there! From students to members of faculty. I kept reminding myself to breathe. I was the second to last person to read which I was happy about because people are more likely to remember your stuff if your near the end and it gave me time to see how other people do. I was surprised. As the writers read their work I was disappointed. Some peoples poems were beautiful, had awesome imagery and descriptions but they read in such a monotone manner that their lush descriptions became flat and boring. I felt like standing up and re-reading their work in such a way that would do it credit! I hate public speaking but I hate it when people butchering good writing.

It was my turn next and although I was nervous I decided I needed to turn my nervous energy into my piece. If I was going to read my short story I was going to go all out and reading in such a way that I imagined when I wrote it. I tried to imagine that the 50 people sitting and staring up and me weren't there, that a large microphone was amplifying every word and sigh I made and instead focused like it was just me and my new, crisp printed copy of Adwen.

I didn't care if people thought I was dramatic or stupid because of the passion in my reading, at that moment I didn't care what they thought because this was a story that I wrote, and it is was precious to me and I wanted to express it in the way it was meant to be - nothing less.

After the reading there were refreshments and time to talk with the other writers. The person in charge of the Folio came up to me and said that I did such a wonderful and stunning job at reading my piece. She was really impressed and said that she wanted me to apply for an editor position that was opening in the Folio. I was so happy and excited! The next day I sent in my resume, cover letter, three writing samples, and academic transcript. I'll cross my fingers and see what happens next! :D

Publish!!!

2010-03-05T11:24:00.001-08:00

Yup that right kitties, I'm being published!! Not majority, but I'm still really excited! Its in the Folio, which is our college's literary journal.

I'm surprised that they choose it because:

A) its not my best piece I've ever written

B) everyone always says how hard and competitive it is out there to get published in anyway

C) The odds of sending one thing out and getting it published is really low

D) and its also the first and only thing I have ever sent out to attempt and get published!!

Conclusion:

I'm happy!! ^0^

Random

2010-02-01T08:13:00.000-08:00

Totally useless information, but I have found that I like to misspell "barely" as "barley" ALOT. Its makes for great entertainment when editing.

PS - I've submitted a short story to our school's literary journal called the "Folio". I hope it gets picked and is published! *crosses fingers* Its was my very very first submission I did on this blog, called "Adwen" you should check it out! I hope they take it and not say "oh just another vamp and werewolf story, blah blah..REJECTED" without actually reading it and seeing there are elements that makes the vamps different etc... anyhoo BYE!

Blurbs!!! Om Nom Nom

2010-01-29T13:34:00.000-08:00

+The water was a dark sapphire and forest green that looked icy cold to the touch. Moss clung to the surrounding rocks and thin green waterweeds lay under the water's surface like long grass that moved as an octopus tendrils swaying with the current.

+Angelique sprinted through the forest till it combined into a vast blur of green. Suddenly she jumped high clearing the trees canopy as she made her ascension over a gorge. She looked below and saw nothing but the white void of clouds. She didn’t know the elevation, but knew it had to be high if she was above the clouds. She soared through the air like a swift cannon, the land behind her becoming more distant and the land in front of her quickly approaching. In the empty sky all was silent except for the heavy flapping of her clothes. Her breathing was steady as she barely missing some large branches but planted her landing perfectly and continued running without missing a step.

+She crouched low on the white sea foam branch and a great wind rose from behind. The branches rattled carrying their leaves of fallow gold forward glittering delicately in the sun. Angelique’s long raven hair and jacket drew out and tapered in front of her. She stood and turned, feeling the exhale of the breeze on her cheeks, and with it came a faint scent...

Its that time again!!.....

Words I Like:
(its a new segment like on a game show but without anyone winning any prizes)

Fallow - pale-yellow, light-brown.

Caryatid - A supporting column, sculptured in the form of a draped female figure.

Write About Something Sacred

2009-12-27T01:13:00.000-08:00

Topic For: December 26, 2009

Write About Something Sacred

Grim took his sacred job as a Reaper very seriously. The Reapers looked just like any other human and Grim was no different. He had shaggy raven hair that hung over his deep brown eyes, lean muscular physique, wide shoulders, big hands and long slender fingers. Grim, apart from his name was very happy and always had a wide grin.

The official weapon sanctioned and given to the Reapers is a scythe. The new scythe model is now retractable, a perfect travel size to fit neatly under the Reapers suit. Very much unlike the old scythe models which had the large wooden shaft and heavy metal blade.

As a Reaper, Grim is a harvester of souls. A list is made by the Shinigami, or otherwise known as the Death God of all of the souls that needed to be gathered for that day. The Reapers would then get a list of the victims in their given vicinity and the Reapers would kill every person whose name was one the list. Once the person was dead their light (soul) would then be gathered in a glass jar and at the end of the day taken to a person called a Cleaner, who would then take the souls to their appropriate final resting place. Now, the way that these fated people would die depended on the Reaper's personal taste or fetish's. Some like the dramatic, the gore, some viewed the deaths as art, others research. Reapers loved to add their own special flourish to the deaths.

"We Ate Chinese"

2009-12-26T21:09:00.000-08:00

Topic For: December 25, 2009

"We Ate Chinese"

"We ate Chinese." was all she said when our roommate got home.

We all knew the date was a disaster. It was so bad, so horrendous that it was now an unspeakable topic. The date-that-must-not-be-named. We had all had on of those so we knew her pain.

Write About A Fire

2009-12-26T20:56:00.001-08:00

Topic For: December 24, 2009

Write About A Fire

A warmth traveled through her arm. Its very center was white hot. The energy built up inside of her growing more powerful, more dense, and swirling velocity. It took all of her strength of will to hold back the urge to let go and let the energy escape to consume her till there was nothing left but ashes. She knew though that she mustn't let this happen. She stopped the energy from building up and now put all of her concentration into keeping the intensity of the hot energy inside of her arm. When she had stabilized the swirling energy she released a small portion of it. It seeped out through the pores of her skin and a bright yellow, orange and flickering red bloomed over her flesh. It didn't burn her but she felt its warmth like a blanket just taken out of the dryer and quickly wrapped around oneself on a cold day. She twisted her arm slowly in every direction admiring its beauty. She not only had keep the energy going at a constant rate but she had to monitor the energy output and concentrate on keeping the fire located only to her arm. It was difficult and there was no handbook, no knowledgeable guru to teach her how it was done. She had to teach herself the dangerous art. It was all trial and error, running on pure instinct and luck.

"So far so good" she smiled and started to time how long she could hold the flame for.

Write About Something You Want But Cannot Have

2009-12-26T20:32:00.000-08:00

Topic For: December 23, 2009

Write About Something You Want But Cannot Have

He was sitting on the wood floors in a ornate narrow and long hall. He was sitting across from the Duchess finalizing his agreement.

"Step forward please." the Duchess's attendant said.

He stepped forward and knelt before the semi-sheer curtain separating him and the Duchess. Through the fold of the fabric a a hand slid through, delicate and slender. He took her soft hand in his large and rough hands. He swore to protect her and guard her with his life until death separates him from her side. When he had finished she withdrew her hand and the curtain was retracted. He was now permitted to look upon her for the first time. He needed see and know the person whom he had given his life to in service. The veil slowly lifted and he knew the moment his eyes fell on her that he was doomed to love her.

He knew just by gazing at her why her father had given the order for her face never to be seen. Her beauty was that of a fleeting dream. An illusion put on my his imagination to torment him to madness. He knew of no living thing of so soft of flesh and blood that could possibly live in this world and breathe the same breath of air as he. His chest clinched in a painful spasm and his soul hurt for he yearned for her beyond anything that he had ever felt before.

Blurbs Much like Wizz-Poppers

2009-11-30T15:30:00.000-08:00

More written scraps (which I will use btw!) ^^

Angelique and her squad stopped amid a large rocky cliff. Down below they could make out black shapes moving swiftly through the treetops. Angelique took a few steps away from the cliff edge.
“Damn, they’re getting way!” one of her squad members was saying. “I don’t see how we can catch u – Angelique!” He suddenly yelled and reached out to her but it was too late.
She had gauged the distance, ran, and threw herself from the cliff-side without a second thought. She arched high in the air, her clothes flapping wildly around her in the sudden self-induced free fall. She drew her sword and it took all she had to remain somewhat calm. Anger stirred deep in her belly, revenge palatable to every sense.
Out of the suns glare she came down on them like a great wind. With a mighty yell she thrust her blade upon the closest. The Angel of Darkness didn’t have enough time to react. The force of the blow was so great that the whole forest trembled beneath the impact. Dust rose in thick billows, enormous branches lay broken, leaves scattered to the wind, and at the very center of the storm the twisted remains of an Angel of Darkness lay at Angeliques feet. She rose slowly, staggering, and gaining control of herself, turned and looked up to the other two Angels of Darkness who had stopped. Angelique’s wrath was fierce to behold and the Angels of Darkness prepared themselves.

Words I Like:

(its a new segment like on a game show but without anyone winning any prizes)

Fen - low land covered wholly or partially with water; boggy land; a marsh.
Tor - a rocky pinnacle; a peak of a bare or rocky mountain or hill.
Tarn - a small mountain lake or pool, esp. one in a cirque.
Cirque - a bowl-shaped, steep-walled mountain basin carved by glaciation, often containing a small, round lake.

City of Sleep

2009-11-30T15:20:00.000-08:00

Assignment for english class. We were supposed to pick a situation that made us change our perspective in some way. Then we had to write two pages on the situation, and then our change of perspective. (I hated the assignment from the very beginning T^T ) Then, we had to create a fiction piece where we used our change of perspective ONLY. The reasoning behind it was, that writers take experiences from their lives and can twist and morph it into their written works (which I totally get because I do the same thing - BUT I still hated the assignment)

Soo, every time I knew I'd have to work on 'City of Sleep', I would have much rather eaten a can of worms. xD

But I like it now, it just took A LOT of work to get there.

City of Sleep

Deafening alarms and flashes of red light up the dark building along with the blood. The blood was everywhere as well as the strong smell of iron. This is not supposed to happen, its not part of the plan. Someone is yelling at me, trying to get my attention. My ears buzz with shock as someone roughly grabs my shoulders and pulls me off the ground. My hands are slick with blood that is not my own.
“God dammit Raine we gotta go!” Gavin yells as he drags me away from her body.
I cannot pull my eyes away from Zuri. She isn’t blinking, and her eyes look right at me. Dark, dull orbs where once bright eyes had been. This isn’t right, I repeat to myself, it isn’t right…
“No!” I scream as I struggle against his hold, “I won’t leave her! Let me go!”
In the struggle I managed to slip and blood splays across the sleek floors. I tug at Zuri’s collar. I want to pull her up with me but I keep slipping in the crimson pool, her body limp and heavy in my grasp.
Gavin silently watches me in my struggle, he doesn’t say anything, ask if I need help…

Raine let out a long sigh. It had been four months since her friend’s death. Every night the same dream - the same end. It was torturous and suffocating. She rolls over in bed to reach for Gavin but the spot next to her is empty. Even in the dark she can see that the bed is undisturbed. Raine fumbles for the bedside table, and switches the lamp on. Dull yellow light illuminates the dark purple walls and charcoal bed coverings. Lost in thought Raine rolls over on her back and stares up at the deep purple ceiling.
She knows her profession isn’t one that most people would be proud of, but it pays the rent. She is a thief. Her family consists of Zuri; an expert in authenticating real art, jewels, and vases - you name it. But now Zuri is gone, died on the night of the heist. Then there is Ryu, the guy with a plan; he could get you in any building, bypass any security system, and that was all before breakfast. Raines boyfriend Gavin is the head of the operations; he has the connections to the buyers, and is real business savvy. Raine owes everything to him, he was the one that took her under his wing, gave her a job, a home. But, with the death of Zuri, it feels like a wedge has come between them. Gavin seems to go on fine without Zuri, as if nothing has happened. Raine finds this disturbing, but, every time she tries to talk to him about it she stops short. She can’t do it. Is she afraid of the answer she will get?
Raine met Gavin when she was sixteen. He was nineteen and just learning the thieving industry. He was suave, tall, dark haired, with large brown eyes. He could woe everyone in the room with a simple “hello” - he oozed cool. Raine quickly and faithfully followed him everywhere. His dreams and ambitions became her dreams and ambitions. The two of them started their own business, and made their own strange family together.
Raine sighs looking over at the alarm clock. The green glowing numbers indicate that it is two in the morning. She rubs her hazel eyes, and sits up to get out of bed. The wood floor feels cold on her bare feet; she grabs a small silk robe hanging on the bedpost and wraps it tight around her.
“Ha ha ha! I know...Yeah that’s what I said...” She hears Gavin’s muffled voice coming from another room. Raine walks to the bedroom door. Opens it, and steps out into the hall.
Curious, Raine walks toward the voice. Gavin is alone in the living room talking on his cell phone. His back is to her but she can see his face reflected in the curved glass window that spans the entire wall of their condo “I knew she didn’t have it in her. Better dead than a lag that’s what I think” he smirks. Even though the view of the entire city is at his feet, tall skyscrapers, like mountain ranges dominating the skyline, bright flashing neon lights and signs that shine in the darkness, and numerous spotlights that zoom across the sky – It’s his face, smirking and lit up with amusement that stops Raine.
“She knew her stuff, “Gavin says, “but you gotta be able to do the dirty work you know? Yeah…yeah alright, talk to you later man.”
“Gav, were you talking about Zuri?” Raine asks curiously as he snaps the cell phone shut.
“I thought you were in bed.” Gavin says.
“I am - or I was I couldn’t sleep. Were you talking about Zuri?” Raine asks feeling breathless.
“Babe, you should get back to bed, I worry about you not getting enough sleep.” He walks towards Raine; his eyes full of sincerity “Take one of the Ambien's I got for you today.” He brushes a thick brown strand of hair out of her face. Raine steps back.
“You were talking about Zuri.“ Raine says with conviction. “You know she was like family and you were joking about it.”
Suddenly Gavin’s demeanor changes from caring to formal. Raine has always admired his cool detachment in business but now it seems all wrong. The light has gone out of his eyes. Raine has a weird feeling that she doesn’t know the man that is beside her.
“Here’s the truth, Zuri didn’t have it in her. She started to doubt herself when it came right down to it. I have to look at this on a professional standpoint hon. I can’t afford to get emotionally attached; otherwise, I wouldn’t still be in business...”
Raine knows that she always sees reason in whatever Gavin says. She knows that she always agrees with him and follows him without question. But, tonight Gavin’s words, his bullshit, are not having their usual opiate effect. In a sudden flash of intuition the relationship is revealed to her from conception to the present moment. She sees the flat, blank, lifeless horror of it. Disgust builds up in her for all the wasted years of devotion. Why did she not see him for who he is sooner? Now that Raine looking at him fully for the first time, she cannot deny herself what she sees. She cannot deny or explain away his lack of compassion, love, and emotion. She cannot see him as she once did. But, the hardest part of all is when Raine realizes that without Gavin she doesn’t even have a single dream. She doesn’t remember what her dreams used to be before Gavin.
“…Zuri was a lose end that needed to be let go” Gavin drones on, “I was going to tell her later that night but she relieved me of the task herself. Common babe, you know how the biz is.” He finishes suavely and reaches out to her, but Raine backs away from him again.
“Gav, its over.” She said with sudden tenacity.
And Raine turns on her heels to leave. She feels suddenly free; she feels new strength roar to life inside of her like an unquenchable fire, like a hidden primal instinct to live, to make dreams, to be true to herself. Raine knows she will leave the thieving business; knows it is time to make a fresh start with life.
“Your not serious.” He says smiling with confidence as if to dismiss her comment. Raine peers over her shoulder.
“I’m not the little naive girl I used to be when we first met. There was once a time you could fool me with your words, but not anymore.” She says with spirit and clarity.
Gavin unaccustomed to being treated in such a manner loses control and becomes violent as he explodes angrily at her. Raine has never seen him like this but it cemented her decision to leave even more. After a few minutes he storms out of the condo and leaves. Raine changes her clothes into simple leather jeans and a random black t-shirt. With a quick mental sweep of her items in the condo, she realizes that she doesn’t need any of them. Her possessions are something that could always be repurchased. Plus what was the point of starting fresh if she is constantly surrounded and being bombarded with memories of her past?
Without looking back, she grabs her helmet and keys that are hanging on a hook by the door. Raine walks down the long, sterile hall with florescent lights that all seem more suitable for a surgery procedure and she pushes the button on the lift to take her to the parking garage. Her motorcycle was the only possession she couldn’t live without.
Raine walks along the cold grey cement and low hanging obtrusive yellow lights toward her assigned parking slot where a large dull metal oval is. Raine presses a button on her keychain.
“Burr-Beep!”
The dull metal pops forward just enough to see cracks along its hull as it starts to retract revealing her motorcycle – a beautiful blend of shiny black and chrome. Below the speedometer is a small video screen-keypad. Raine’s fingers fly across the keypad as she logs in her name and access code.
“Ohayou Gozaimasu Raine” the computerized voice says as the motorcycle growls to life.
She presses another button on the keypad and a compartment on the side of her bike pops open to revel a pair of rimless blueberry tinted glasses. She slides them on and a small screen to right side of the lens flickers on revealing speedometer and GPS.
Raine contemplates for a moment about what she was doing. She is leaving everything behind because of a feeling, but it is more then that she concludes. The fire, the conviction of the truthfulness of her thoughts and words resonates deep in her chest. When she met Gavin she was too young and inexperience with the world, people, and relationships to know any better. But with what had happened with Zuri woke her up, she is now able to see what her life has become, and that she has been asleep the whole time.
Raine pulls her helmet over her head, for the last time while she elegantly throws her leg over the bike. The cement screams in protest under the tires as she peels out of her parking spot and spirals down the twelve other levels of the parking garage toward the exit. She pulls out of the low-cave of a parking garage and out into the open world. The warm night air of the city greets Raine like a daughter who has just come home.

Writing Scraps

2009-11-14T21:40:00.000-08:00

I feel like I should post something because I haven't in FOREVER, and then I checked and saw that my last post was only six days ago! lol XD so sad!

Well, anyways, here are some random blurbs or one-liners of writing. ^^

+He charged at the men and his anger was such that the earth quailed beneath his feet. Every footfall broke the earth turning it to dust. With his eyes full of fire he struck like a snake. His movements were too fast for the eye to track and every one of his foes fell dead before his feet.

+He had an air of confidence around him, but would sit alone in the back of class - A quiet observer. Those few moments our eyes met, they weren’t a sideways glance, but a full on connection. Large, brown, beautiful eyes that held their story, their wanting, and their passion on the very forefront. With every stare he proposed an unasked question, “would you accept me if I asked?” and my eyes would reply with “yes."

+She turned sharply, the light of the Angels was in her face and she shone fierce and beautiful before him.

+His mind was clouded by war and burned with a fierce spirit to protect his Lord and Master even at the cost of his life.

Nickolai (complete)

2009-11-08T10:38:00.000-08:00

OMG this is gonna be a long post!! Prepare yourselves! Buckle your seat belts! Get a bowl of popcorn! Turn your cell phone devices off! Buy me candy! Okay, now we are set to go :P

Okay, so in English I'm in a group of 4 other people and we are creating a Zine (small publication) of short stories. I did my Nickolai one. It turned out to be nine pages. ^^ For the Zine, I've condensed it down to five pages, but on my blog I wanted to put the original, because it is the way I wanted it. so there! :)

Like I've mentioned before:
Everyone in this story are my OC's that have been around for years!! From a book I'm writing and hoping one day I'll finnish! :D
Nickolai is not the main character of my book, he's just a side character but I thought it would be fun to do something that might have happened before the setting of the book. (he needs some lovin' too!) Plus it helped me really flesh out his character.

It wasn’t a particularly plain room nor was it extravagant in color and decoration. It had the normal accoutrements of a room, wood floors laid out with a lush finely woven carpet, dresser, nightstand with oil lamp, a small writing desk pushed up in the corner of the room by the window, and a bed. The four-poster bed is what interested Nickolai the most. Soft linens draped all four corners; fine furs and silks of deep green and gold lay lusciously on the mattress.
“I’m with you” Nickolai spoke the words softly and with ease, “and you’re with me.” He whispered in the woman’s ear holding her tightly in his arms.
“Nickolai, let me be with you always.” She said desperately as he laid her gently down on the bed.
Nickolai’s dark hair hung shaggy over his face. The emerald in his eyes shone brightly even in the dim light of her room. His lips gently ran down her neck.
“Always.” He replied as he pressed a kiss on the nape of her neck, she arched her back and let out a sweet moan. Nickolai parted his lips on her neck and bit hard but passionately. The woman instantly became limp under his steely grip. As her warm thick blood ran speedily over his tongue. He felt it warming every vein in his body with an almost human warmth. He basked in the sensation of the heat, craving more, wanting more, but he knew he should stop. He had already had his fill, anymore and he would kill her.
He released her licking the last remnants of her ruby blood off his lips. He covered her body with a large fur, she was cold to the touch, shivering, breathing hard and her eyelids fluttered erratically.
“You’re so cruel.” Came a woman’s lyrical voice sounding sickly amused. She was leaning against the doorframe with one leg propped up.
Without looking up at her Nickolai responded.
“So Katrina, now you’re stalking me. Are you that desperate for my attentions?” He brushed a few brown strand of hair away from the face of the woman lying in the bed.
Katrina’s beautiful face contorted viciously.
“As if! Once you are bound to me and our clans unite, you’ll stop these stupid games!” she spat looking at the woman with disdain. Then as if she had thought herself too harsh, she said sweetly.
“It’s a pity you resort to such embarrassing lengths for a meal.” She brushed her wavy blonde hair behind her shoulder nonchalantly and looked at him with her violet eyes. “I’ve never had problems in that department” as she let out a perverse giggle.
She’s baiting me, Nickolai thought to himself. He breathed in deep concentrating on not blowing up at her and enhancing the dispute further. Nickolai knew he was a selfish being; he had always been that way. Humans were the lesser beings, food for the more advanced race. His reasoning for such methods of gaining the woman’s trust emotionally and physically just to feed he knew were cruel. But it was the only way he could try to continue to have a trace of humanity. He tried to not view the humans as just food to be taken at will and against their will. So many of the vampire race, like Katrina, just see humans as food and nothing more. They have abandoned their human lives, human feelings, human emotions, easily killing and torturing with ease and lack of consciousness. Their striking outer appearance is paled in comparison to their inner ugliness of having done such deeds.
“I know you’ve never had trouble finding a meal.” Said Nickolai calmly and got up to leave. He walked to the end of the room toward the door that Katrina still occupied looking shocked at such a relaxed response. Nickolai knew she had expected him to say something as scathing as she. It took her a moment to snap out of her surprise and silently step aside to let Nickolai pass. He continued out the door and led himself into the serene night.
A slight chill wind was the telltale sign that autumn was fast approaching. The clear night sky was free from any drift clouds. The stars sparkled and the full moon watched silently high in the sky. Amidst the open moon it was still a dark night, as if a veil of shadow was cast over the lands that even the light of the moon couldn’t penetrate.
Nickolai pulled his collar up around his ears, he wasn’t particularly cold since he had just fed, he did it more out of the old habit when he still a human. He walked briskly on the cobblestone backstreets of the town, Alendra he thought it was called. It was late into the night, windows were shut, and houses were dark. Along his way out of town he met a few of the towns drunks. They wobbled, sometimes taking notice of Nickolai and making incoherent slurred comments in his direction, but he ignored them and kept walking. He meant to get out of town quickly.
It wasn’t until he was into the thick surrounding woods that he met Captain Zechariah waiting for him. The Captain of the Guard was a beefy man in height and stature and at least three heads taller then Nickolai. Zechariahs long sandy brown hair was tied back in a low ponytail, he wore a brown leather helmet gleaming with a black and bronze crow whose wings wrapped around the Captains head, he wore tough leather black boots, a soft leather jerkin, heavy brown leather armor with a black metal breast plate fitting perfectly to the contours of his muscles and etched in the middle of this was an emblem of the Crow Clan gleaming softly in silver and bronze. He held no sword but had two-twin daggers attached to his back. Capt. Zechariah had them mostly for show. He rarely used them, instead relying on his brute strength and hand-to-hand combat abilities.
Nickolai knew the reason Capt. Zechariah was there, waiting for him.
“Tell me something I don’t already know.” Nickolai said exasperated.
“Forgive me milord she must have know my agents were tailing her. She gave them the slip, and by the time I was notified it was too late.”
“You know I don’t like people watching me feed. Katrina was lucky I was in an obliging mood for her humor.” He said darkly.
Capt. Zechariah was the only vampire Nickolai trusted implicitly because Zechariah was the only one who knew of Nickolai being like two sides of the same coin. There was the Nickolai, when he was with other vampires: ruthless, cruel, powerful leader of the crow vampire clan. Then there was the other Nickolai: the one that worried about fully losing his humanity, compassion and mercy.
Nickolai gave a heavy sign and signaled Zechariah to continue walking with him. The forest had an ancient grace to it, soft evergreen trees, ferns and supple ground. The trees easily rivaled the size of redwoods, big thick trunks and large roots protruding and twisting like sea serpents of lore. Long puffed trails of soft ivy which, being bored simply curling itself on the ground started long ago to wined and weave its way up the trees until it filled every hole and crevice with a light supple blanket of greenery.
“She was there by the time I was feeding.” Nickolai confided as irritation crept into his voice at the mere memory that Katrina had witnessed him with his guard down and appearing weak.
“It won’t happen again.” Capt. Zachariah said with a deadly finality in his tone. “I’ll watch Katrina myself, she won’t dare give me the slip.” He growled.
Nickolai looked up at him, Capt. Zechariah’s featured were darkened by the trees shadows, and only his amber eyes glowed threateningly.
“I will consider your offer…in the meantime, has the messenger returned?”
Captain Zechariah snorted; he was opening hostile toward the messenger, Victor. There was something about that human that rubbed Zechariah the wrong way.
“Yes, he returned tonight right before I left. I told him to wait for your return.”
“ Good.” Was all Nickolai said and with a nod of his head he sent Zachariah’s away.
In deep thought, Nickolai continued though the thick forest back toward his home.

Nickolai’s home was buried deep into the underbelly of the Crystalline Mountains. For miles you’d travel until the light of the moon was just a mere memory in the gathering darkness. The elders of the Crow Clans before him had dug deep into the mountains roots forging a labyrinth of tunnels, large rooms, extravagant halls, ballrooms, and eating halls. It was an underground palace, extravagant and regal, full of the history and pride of Nickolai’s clan.
He reached the entrance and continued down a narrow dark stone walled section and as he got closer to the heart of his home, archways carved out of stone started to appear but some lay collapsed after many years of neglect. Statues gathered layers of dust and cobwebs, their true forms masked by corrosion; their morbid depiction ever heightened. The gargoyles of the damned lay ever still upon their pedestals on top of richly decorated columns with their hollowed out eyes watched over everyone that came past. The tunnel opened up to reveal an immensely large courtyard, the ceilings arches faded into the darkness above them, and doorways leading out to different corridors lined almost every wall, but in the center stood a gigantic fountain.
Much of the fountains statue’s consisted of a Renaissance style war scene depicted with hungry vampires with much lust and greed in their eyes as the preyed on men and women who looked up toward the heavens with outstretched arms helplessly on the ground or struggling against their attacker, some with horror in their eyes others agony, its grotesque imagery reflecting the previous owners taste. Leaving no imagination to what the fountain held, bloodstains filled the basin surrounding this imagery and out of the teeth marks given by the preying vampires. Revolving around the fountain stood six tall statues on two-foot pedestals and at least twelve feet in height, each holding swords in their outstretched hand toward the fountain in resolute agreement.
On the far north wall directly behind the fountain was a darkly clad guard. He stood directly behind a mural depicting the history of vampires starting from their beginning origins up to the point where the project had been abandoned. The paint was worn, colors muted and peeling from age. Directly below the mural was an elaborate tablet made out of gold that when was new, must have shined brilliantly but currently dull and dusty, just read:

From the ashes of hells fire vampire was created

By mans perverse nature we were reborn

We grew wings covering the whole earth in our domain

The Golden years were vampires crowning moment

No goblet or fountain ran dry but overflowed with highest quality blood

We were Gods of the Earth and Hell

Than the cursed Angels came

Enemies to vampire lord, lady and babe

Catching us in our shadows where no human dared to tread they hunted

Wasn’t long before rumor of war had arisen

In Clans were whispers of u-n…

After that the tablet was broken in unreadable fragments and pieces. The history that only a few handful remember lay long lost in deteriorated ruins.
“Milord” the darkly clad guard nodded while Nickolai walked past. The corridor was short and Nickolai took a circular staircase up until it dead-ended with a large wooden door. He pushed it open and stepped out onto a black wood floor lined with plush floor runner with an embroidered gold trim of odd knots and symbols. He shut the door to the Underground behind him and heard the familiar clicks from the internal bolts locking into the place. South Downs Hall had beautiful wainscoting; intricately carved molding, elaborate gold oil lamp wall sconces, and diamond chandeliers. Someone walked rapidly down the carpet in a dark suit with a high neckline and tied with a cravat, he was similar in dress, as Nickolai was, but of a lesser quality clothe.
“Milord we have waited for your return, but did not know you would be coming from the old entrance.” The man said.
“Nor did I Mikael, but it seemed appropriate to have some privacy concerning my coming and goings.” Nickolai answered.
“Of course.” Mikael said apologetically.
They continued walking in silence until they reached Nickolai’s office.
“I’ve been informed that the Messenger has returned, you may send him in immediately.”
“Yes, milord.” Mikael said as he closed the french doors behind him.
Nickolai’s office was surrounded by dark wood and accented with the colors of deep crimson. Pictures grey with age hung on the walls with the faded faces of people that might have once lived but now they just sit, silent obituaries to their long lost humanity. Shelves were filled with books of history, philosophy, anatomy, and various other readings and the only lighting in this dim office came from the two candles sconces on either end of the french doors and an oil lamp placed at the far end of Nickolai’s desk. Nickolai took a seat in his chair behind his desk. It wasn’t too long before he heard a faint rasping at the door.
“Enter…”
A short, balding, thick-necked man entered the room. He had a very unkempt appearance, his clothes were shabby, mud stained and appeared two sizes to small for his round figure.
“Milord.” He said slowly and bowed low to the ground his pudgy fingers twitching nervously.
“Victor, I will assume you have delivered my messages, what of the replies?” Nickolai asked.
“All four clan heads have decided to call you on your invitation.” Victor said hoarsely, “Like you ordered they will come accompanied by only four bodyguards and will arrive by tomorrow.” He grinned widely and some drool dribbled messily down his chin.
He wiped it away with the back of his hand and looked at Nickolai unflinchingly with his large oily eyes.
“You’re dismissed Victor, I need to talk with Mikael. Send him in.” Nickolai instructed with a wave of his hand.
Victor attempted another low bow before exiting. Mikael promptly entered and Nickolai spent no time, going over the details for the arrival of the four elders, and what must be done in order to make their stay comfortable.

*****

Nikolai sat alone at a large circular table, he was busy going over the Intel that Captain Zechariahs had given him on the other four elders, he scanned the list once more:
Dominic Lentini: Leader of the Snake Clan, a loner, introvert and narcissistic, loves self-mortification and inflicting pain on others.
Angela Merici: Leader of the Swan Clan, is blind but still deadly, killed her uncle in order to become leader of the clan, even killed her twin sister after having a vision of her in the company of the “Saints” or the Angels of Light.
Charbel: Leader of the Fox Clan, dedicated to the old ways and follows every rule implicitly, is very deadly even though he has an appearance of an innocent child.
Giovanni da Capistrano: Leader of the Wolf Clan, is a warmonger and has a zeal for finding traitors, and distrusts easily.
The doors suddenly burst open as Capt. Zechariahs enters and the Elders start filing into the room followed closely by their bodyguards. First to enter was Angela, though blind, seemed to be able to move around fine by her heightened sense of smell. Her eyes were a cloudy white, the very same color as her long straight hair. She wore a light flowing dress that gave her an ethereal quality. Next was Charbel, he was no taller than 5’6 he looked like he was thirteen years old, maybe fourteen but that was wrong - he was well over 100. He had a thin frame of lean muscles, his round grey eyes looked inquisitively around the room, he had neatly cut light brown hair and looked impeccable in his expensive suit. Then was Giovanni, with his long black hair pulled up in a neat ponytail and beetle black eyes surveying the others skeptically. Last was Dominic, his skin was pale as a ghost, his short bleach blond hair lay flat against his head, he had low brows, ice blue eyes and his lips wore the expression as if at any moment they would curl into a grin.
“Nickolai Aleksantri!” Some greeted, “What an honor to meet you again.” Others would say, their smiles Nickolai noted, never reaching their eyes.
“Why don’t we sit down so we can get started?” Nickolai said motioning to the chairs. Every one of the elders sat down with their bodyguards positioned behind them. Nickolai only needed one and Capt. Zechariahs stood behind him, his burly arms folder in front of his chest, he grunted and scanned the room, daring anyone to make the wrong move.
Nickolai sat with his hands clasped in front of him on the table, everyone of the elders stared at him in anticipation, some with guarded hostility, others curiosity or showing no expression at all. Nickolai thought for a moment and then started.
“I’m honored that everyone has been able to attend this meeting under very short circumstances. As you all know, ever since the Blood Wars over three centuries ago we haven’t been able to regain our previous glory. Instead we are meant to hide in our darkened places hoping we don’t get wiped out and killed by those accursed Angels of Light...”
“Those Angels,” Angela interrupted, her voice soft and lyrical but the undertones were full of revulsion, “are venomous poison to our clans. When they infect one, they infect us all.”
“Yes, “ said Nickolai thinking of Angela’s twin sister, “Well, our species was practically wiped out by those Angels whe– “
“We already know all of this...” Cut in Charbel looking bored.
“Exactly.” Said Giovanni, “If you haven’t forgotten it was my clan who preserved all of the old records of that war.” He said his black eyes gleaming.
“No, I haven’t forgotten,” Nickolai said smoothly, “but I want to be thorough, and have everyone know exactly why I have called them here. The less assumption, the better, don’t you think?” He looked around at everyone slowly, making eye contact with all of the elders; no one interrupted him so he continued.
“We cannot take out the angels by force, they have grown too strong and we have grown too weak-“
“Watch who you are calling weak!” Growled Giovanni he arose in his chair with a sneer. “We of the Wolf Clan love a good fight! And we are stronger than you think!” he finished pointing at Nickolai.
His bodyguards laid their hands of their master’s shoulder, in an attempt to calm Giovanni down as they looked apprehensively around.
“If I remember correctly Giovanni it was you who had your lovely summer house along the white cliffs gutted and destroyed by the Angels and you, rumor had it, couldn’t even kill one of them.” Nickolai said mockingly.
Giovanni shrugged off his guards and sat back down, but he looked as if he’d like nothing more that to rip Nickolai’s head off.
“We cannot take the angels face on,” Nickolai continued saying, “but I think that if-“
Giovanni launched himself forward with amazing dexterity and speed, his black eyes appearing wilder in his frenzy. He ran, and headed straight towards Nickolai. In seconds the room was in an uproar, bodyguards whipped in front of their Master’s their swords and daggers already drawn. Giovanni’s guards weren’t fast enough to catch their Master as he drew a small dagger hidden up his burgundy sleeve. He closed in on Nickolai and instead met Capt. Zechariah head on.
Zechariah let out a guttural growl as he grabbed Giovanni’s dagger with one bare hand and his other held fast onto Giovanni’s other wrist. Capt. Zechariah’s blood dripped in large droplets on the wood floor, the smell of blood filled the room but he seemed un-phased. Capt Zechariah’s gold eyes glowed fierce; his mind was clouded by war and burned with a fierce spirit to protect his Lord and Master even at the cost of his life. Zechariah’s lips twitched and the teeth in his entire mouth elongated instinctively, brutally. Giovanni’s guards were now trying to pry Capt. Zechariah’s hands off of Giovanni without any luck.
“Zechariah!” Nickolai warned, his voice traveling over the noisy crowd. “It would be a shame if the Wolf Clan didn’t have a leader anymore at our expense.”
Zechariah snapped out of his clouded frenzy, his elongated teeth retracted and he released Giovanni hesitantly. Capt. Zechariah then backhanded the nearest of Giovanni’s bodyguard’s, there was a sickening crunch of the jawbone breaking as he was slammed into the ground from the force of the blow.
“Watch your Master better, pup! Or next time, I’ll smash your head in.” Capt. Zachariah warned with a deadly finality, turned on the spot and took his place again behind Nickolai not bothering to tend to his own wound.
“Next time Giovanni you try to attack me in my own home, I won’t call off Capt. Zechariah…but watch.” Nickolai said with a sick smile.
No one spoke; the other three Elders was still weary, expecting another attack. The silence was finally broken with Angela.
“Nickolai, if you could continue. I’ll like to hear all that you have to say.”
Nickolai nodded in agreement and calmed himself before he continued.
“I believe if we join forces we may have a chance of stopping the Angels of Light from bringing about our extinction.”
“An alliance?” Said Dominic finally speaking; “Are you that frightened, Nickolai?” His voice was like acid, crude and methodical.
“Frightened? No, there are a few things in this world that I fear Dominic, and an Angel, I can assure you isn’t one of them.” Nickolai’s voice held no disapproving tones but a neatly guarded threat.
“How fortunate you are” continued Dominic. His brooding eyes gleamed, “But who will take charge in this alliance? Will you Nickolai?” a soft murmur rose, “And what about our power that all of us has strove for? What of that? Will you take everything away from us? The ones who deserve it?” Dominic had risen from his seat, apparently pleased, the corners of his mouth twitched repressing a wide smile. The Elders were now talking amongst themselves and agreeing with Dominic, worried about their place in the alliance. Nickolai acted quickly.
“I don’t mean to take power from anyone.” He tried to assure them, “If we can find a way to work together, equally we can succeed in building up our clans to their previous glory! If we don’t join forces we will have less of a chance of survival!”
“Tsk, Tsk” Dominic clicked his tongue together. “Please speak for yourself! I don’t want an alliance.”
“Nor I.” Giovanni said with disgust and already walking out the door.
“It goes against the old ways put in place by our ancestors” said Charbel in his childlike voice, “There is a reason we are split into our separate clans, I say no.”
Nickolai turned to Angela.
“If I am to join now, it would make my Swan Clan appear frail, and we are not!” Angela answered in pride.

*****

“They are fools.” Nickolai was saying, “Every one of them. Too caught up with their desire for power, vanity, and their pride to see that we will be lucky to survive into the next century.”
Nickolai stood outside on a narrow ledge of rock that overlooked the valley below him. Low clouds had gathered and were clinging to the clifside, crawling slowly over the snow peaked mountains.
“What shall we do milord?” said Capt. Zachariah.
“We will lie low, slowly build up our numbers. We know our underground labyrinth better then the Angels would. We need to discuss battle strategies. I don’t want the embarrassment of what happed to Giovanni, they may be prideful enough in thinking they don’t need to prepare, but we do. This is not for the survival of myself but for my clan.”
“Yes milord I will get right on it!” And he left, jumping down the raw mountainside with ease.
Nickolai once more looked out into the valley, but something wasn’t right. The nights seemed to get darker, even with the moon. There was an eerie silence in the general vicinity, more than usual. Nickolai felt like something was going to happen and whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.
Then he smelled in on the wind. A scent he didn’t like and it was coming in his direction fast, really fast. Nickolai jumped up to a higher and larger piece of rock and took a defensive stance. He had only moments before a man appeared seemly out of thin air. He was panting hard, he had shaggy black hair, amber eyes, and wore boots, tough black leather pants, short sleeve shirt, wraps for extra support around his wrist and fore arm, a knife attached to his belt, and katana sword attached to back. He was what was called an Angel of Darkness, a ruthless race whose sole purpose was to kill the Angels of Light, and take this world for their own. They loved nothing but themselves, and hated everything else. Their aura’s of putrid dark waves of loathing and hate for the Angels, could be sensed miles away. This puzzled Nickolai, he only sensed this demon when he was practically on top of him.
“Are you Nickolai Aleksantri of the Crow Clan!” he demanded. “Be quick, if you are not him…” and he started to pull out his sword.
“I am him….why do you ask?” Nickolai’s said eyes narrowing. The Angel of Darkness put his sword back in place.
“I am Dante, an Angel of Darkness, I have heard that you are not like the others of your kind.” He said rushed. “That you are someone who could be trusted.”
Nickolai’s lips curled skeptically.
“I am not like the others of my race because I think with my head, not with my arrogance. If you think I can be trusted, you are mistaken! Vampires rarely trust their own kind, what makes you think I will trust an Angel of Darkness who abandoned us during the Blood Wars?” He said sweetly condescending. “You’ll kill my whole Clan when you have the chance!”
“Please! I don’t mean to quarrel!” Dante was desperate now, and Nickolai saw this. “I only have moments before they will come for me. You speak of betrayal; well I have betrayed my own kind. I loved someone who I shouldn’t have.” His words came out quick. “I came to you because you are the only one who can protect her-“
“Wait,” Nickolai said, “you are going to fast. Who is coming after you and why am I protecting someone?”
“The Angels of Darkness are coming after me for the sin that I have committed. They have ways of torturing and tearing people down mentally in order to build them back up creating the worst kind of monster. The person I ask you to protect is the one I love. I know I ask a lot of you but your clan is strong and there is mercy in you.”
“ I can’t” Nickolai said flatly.
“You must!” he rushed forward; his eyes were intense and strong. Dante gripped Nickolai’s shoulder with such force and conviction that he had a hard time with his decision. He didn’t know why, but he felt something in him stir, a warmth.
“No matter how long you’ve been a vampire, no matter how long you want to try and deny it, you can still vividly remember your human life, it is your only soft spot in the coldness and predator-like qualities you have to display. You are the hunter or the hunted, the predator or the prey. It is a matter of survival to live like I do.” Nickolai paused. “I will protect to the best of my abilities, this girl.”
Relief instantly spread across Dante’s features.
“Will you even protect her from me?”
“From you?” Nickolai asked perplexed.
“She will be the first one that I will hunt down when I am changed – but she must not know this fact! I would rather have her think I am dead, then have her know that I live a twisted existence. She knows too much about our ways to be kept alive and the other Angels of Darkness will want to see her dead.” His eyes appeared melancholy and far off. “She is an Angel of Light, named Angelique.”
Nickolai’s eyes widened in disbelief and before he could retort against this Dante continued again.
“I am not like others of my kind nor you and neither is she. She sees much without the clouded judgments and prejudices of her peers. She doesn’t kill just because she is commanded to, she asks questions of morality, and principles, she questions the totalitarian society ways that she was raised in.”
“It is dangerous, what you ask. Not only for myself but my position as Clan Leader…and, for some reason I cannot say no, if these claims are indeed real.”
Relief spread over Dante’s features and he started thanking Nickolai. When his features suddenly became stiff and fear flashed across his eyes, but only for a moment. And then Nickolai felt it - the crude aura of life forms coming in his direction, but not nearly as fast as Dante.
“I’ve stayed too long.” Dante feared looking in the direction of the aura. “Remember she will be the first one!” In an instant Dante was gone and only a puff of dust where his feet had been where a sign that he had ever been there.
It was only moments later when Capt. Zechariah appeared with four darkly clad guards with him, their swords all drawn.
“Milord, Angels of Darkness are coming this way. You need to return quickly!”
Without hesitation Nickolai left with Zechariah holding the front and the other guards flanking him. Nickolai’s mind was working in overtime trying to process everything that had happened, things that had been said, and promises made. With everything that had happened he couldn’t help himself and he let out a laugh. It was strange for him, but he felt somehow lighter, and the warmth that he had felt earlier continued to fill his chest. He didn’t know what his destiny had in store for him, but he knew whatever it was, it would be an adventure the he was willing to take.

Describe Your Strangest Dream Using The 6 W’s

2009-09-30T12:07:00.000-07:00

In class we are supposed to "Describe Your Strangest Dream Using The 6 W’s" - Who, What, When, Where, Why, and How.

"Fun! Fun!" I thought since I am know to have very trippy dreams. XD

Its nighttime and I’m staying at a house in a cul-de-sac surrounded by trees. The cul-de-sac- is situation of top of a slight hill, the road travels downhill past some empty fields where there is a bank - a lone black-glassed building. I’m with my sister in law, Charlotte. We get into the car and the entire dashboard on the passenger side is a large keyboard, where the windshield is supposed to be is instead the monitor. The keyboard, I find out is somehow covered in about 6 inches of cake with frosting. That doesn’t deter me from going online and checking Charlotte’s blog. I decide to write a message so I poke my finger into the cake one at a time (trying to remember where each letter key is on the keyboard by memory.) As I type the message Charlotte comes up with a brilliant idea to steal the cake that is on top of the bank building, I quickly agree.
We drive down the hill and park the car in front of the bank building. We are instantly attired in black clothing, rock-climbing gear, we are each wearing a belt harness and attached between both of us is a bungee rope. We climb are way up to the very top of the three story bank building where the cake is. In the middle of the roof is a two-tier cake with white and pink frosting. Charlotte picks up the cake right when we notice 4 other men in black gear have climbed up the bank building as well. But, they are not after the cake, but the banks money. They see us and we see them. The leader instantly pulls out his gun to shoot the witnesses (us). In the middle of the bungee rope connecting Charlotte and I is a clip that we had attached to front side of the bank building to act like an anchor. So when we escaped we can both jump off the building at the same time and land safely without on of us bouncing back up dangerously. But, at the sight of the gun Charlotte (who was closer to the edge of the building) rolled off before me. She started bunging down, then back up, and down again without any way to control herself. I sprint to the edge of the building to see that she managed to get herself tangled in the line and was choking herself. I knew that if I was able to land on the ground and unhook myself that she would be able to get down and be fine. So I timed my jump just right, so when she was starting to bounce back up I started my jump down. I landed safely on the ground, unhooked myself and ran to the getaway car that had turned into a parade float. I climb up onto the float and once I’m up I turn around and see Charlotte running down the grass to the float, to save time, she throws me the end of the bungee rope which I take and use it to pull her up quickly.
In the meantime, the leader was yelling at his lackeys, “Get them!” and had all started down the bank building to follow us.
Once Charlotte is on. I turn on the float to make our getaway. To turn on the float and steer I have to turn this giant green crayon sticking vertically into the float. I wrap both arms around it in and attempt to steer. Floats aren’t known for their speed, so the bad guys quickly catch up and try to ram us off the road, fortunately the float was big and heavy. We are almost to the safety of our house in the cul-de-sac when the dream ends.

Nickolai

2009-09-23T20:45:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since I posted anything! *dies of shock*

In english we are still working on revising my last post (non-fiction object/relationship assignment la la...) I've been just itching to write something! So today I sat down at SLCC library and started writing and this is what came.

Nickolai and Katrina are my OC's that have been around for years!! From a book I'm writing and hoping one day I'll finnish! :D

Nickolai and Katrina are not the main characters of my book, they are just side characters but I thought it would be fun to do something that might have happened before the setting of the book. (they need some lovin' too!)

Now, I'm hoping to expand more on this a make it like a short story of sorts. Dang! That remind me I still need to finish my "Unsuspecting Adventure of Gwendolyn" short story post from March! Ack!

Breathe, breathe, okay one thing at a time...

“I’m with you” he spoke the words softly and with ease, “and your with me.” He whispered in the woman’s ear holding her tightly in his arms.

“Nickolai, let me be with you always.” Was her response, her voice full of wanting.
Nickolai’s dark hair hung shaggy over his face. The emerald in his eyes shone brightly even in the dim light of her room. His lips gently ran down her neck.

“Always.” He answered as he pressed a kiss on the nape of her neck and she let out a sweet moan. Nickolai parted his lips and bit hard and passionately. The warm thick blood ran speedily over his tongue. The woman instantly became limp under his steely grip.

When he had his fill he released her licking the last remnants of her ruby blood off his lips. He carried her unconscious body and laid her reverently in her bed.

“Your so cruel.” Came a woman’s lyrical voice sounding sickly amused. She was leaning against the doorframe with a leg propped up on the opposite side. Without looking up Nickolai responded.

“So Katrina now you’re stalking me. Are you that desperate for my attentions.” He brushed a few brown strand of hair away from the face of the woman lying in the bed.

Katrina’s beautiful face contorted viciously.

“As if! Once you are bound to me and our clans unite, you’ll stop these stupid games!” she spat. Then as if she had thought herself too harsh, she said with a sweetness rivaling an angels. “It’s a pity you resort to such embarrassing lengths for a meal.” She brushed her blonde hair behind her shoulder nonchalantly and looked at him with her violet eyes. “I’ve never had problems in that department” as she let out a perverse giggle.

She’s baiting me, Nickolai thought to himself. He breathed in deep concentrating on not blowing up and enhancing the dispute further. Nickolai knew he was a selfish being; he had always been that way. Humans were the lesser being, food for the more advanced race. His reasoning for such methods of gaining the woman’s trust emotionally and physically just to feed he knew were cruel. But it was the only way he could try to continue to have a trace of humanity. He tried to not view the humans as just food to be taken at will and against all their will. So many of the vampire race, like Katrina, just see humans as food and nothing more and abandoned their human lives, human feelings, human emotions, easily killing and torturing with ease and lack of consciousness. Their striking outer appearance is paled in comparison to their inner ugliness of having done such deeds.

“I know you’ve never had trouble finding a meal.” Said Nickolai calmly and got up to leave. He walked to the end of the door which Katrina still occupied looking shocked at such a response. Nickolai knew that wasn’t the response she had expected, he knew, she had expected him to say something as scathing as she. It took her a moment to snap out of her surprise and silently step aside to let Nickolai pass. Without even lifting his eyes he continued out the door and led himself into the serene night.

So if you didn't get it Nickolai and Katrina are vampires! *screams in shock!! well, not really* lol. There is something about vampires=sexiness..I dunno can't help it. And technically if your wondering about the whole "will you be with me always?" and his response "always" and are like, wtf? he gonna leave her! well, technically she is always with him since he drank her blood, so a part of her is with him *light bulb goes off* VICTORY!! Haha :D

Okay enough of my ramblings....goodnight my lil sugar plums!

PS-Another minor character in my book is Havok who I wrote about in the "Free-For-All" post from August 17!

Literary NonFiction -The True Meaning of a Photograph

2009-09-12T10:48:00.000-07:00

Alright, for class we finished our worksheet (last post).

NOW we had to describe the object selected (photograph) in a way that reveals your relationship to the person you associate it with.

You CAN NOT: name the person, say what the relationship is, cannot make direct comparisons to the object and the person.

BUT, the teacher did give us poetic license (mu-hahaha) my fav! :D

PS - we could use as much as we wanted from the worksheet (previous post) and incorporate it into this piece.

The True Meaning of a Photograph

I haven’t looked at the picture for a long time, but I can still remember the image perfectly in my mind as if I had never truly hid it away.
The first moment I held that cool photograph in my hands I was speechless, and in complete awe at how beautiful it was. The front was high gloss, clear like glass, and my fingertips held the dull back. The photo was the bait on a hook and my heart became the catch. I was staring at the side of him that was no longer present, that hadn’t been for years.
That one small picture is all I have that reminds me of him other than my memories. Out of every picture, it was the only one that accurately portrayed what I saw inside of him that drew me to him. My reasons for taking the photograph was to fill my own foolish, romanticized, ideas of who he was. I wanted to remember him for who he was, not what he had become.
The photograph was taken the day Aria was born. My very best friends were having their first child and even though we weren’t blood related we considered each other family. I couldn’t make it to the hospital but he did. The photo showed him sitting down in the hospital chair holding her in his arms, small, helpless, and pink-faced. He was looking up at the camera with the most joy and love in every feature. He was exuding such light that permeated from within, it shown through the picture. His hazel eyes were clear and sparkling; they were so different from the cloudy, murky, angry, and all-things-malicious eyes that I had come to know.
He was a monster and yet, his face at that moment had become an angel. But somewhere in the depths of himself was a coiled snake, waiting to strike. One bite and you’d be paralyzed to all but his dominating will.
That dominating will was sharp and cut deep to all who succumbed to his grasp. When it was too late, that’s when you noticed the ivy’s thorns piercing your flesh and yourself bleeding from the inside out.
In my naivety I handed him my trust, who took it in his hands and crushed it behind a charming smile and handed me back its dust. His apologies were always poison behind sweet lips. Who I thought he was, and who he had turned out to be were two very different people. One day, I knew this; I finally realized that truth I had been denying myself. I had at last become free from his vice-like grip.
The photo used to be a resident on the fridge, held up by an advertisement magnet. But now, I don’t look at the photograph, its not sitting on a shelf, stuck in a frame, pinned up on a corkboard, placed in a photo album, or part of a scrapbook page. That picture is lying in the bottom of one of my storage tubs in the farthest corner of the attic above the garage. I don’t know if its gathering dust in the darkness, if spiders have managed to creep inside and find it, if the image ingrained in the paper will ever fade, or if I will ever want to unbury it.
But, maybe one day I’ll uncover the picture from the cold, musty attic and lay it to rest; but today is not that day.

The End

I had a hard time coming up with the title, here are some of the titles I considered:

-The Photo

-Over, But Horrendously Not Forgotten

-The Monster Behind The Saint

-The Photograph

-Photo Whose Memory Now Haunts The Attic With The Exception For House Resident Ghost, Fred

Literary Non-Fiction Worksheet

2009-09-08T19:28:00.000-07:00

The last few titles of my entry's sux I know! I'm just using what the assignment for school title is. ^^"

This one was an interesting paper to write.

We were supposed to pick an object that meant something to us. That someone who is, or used to be, that is really important in our lives and whenever we look at the object it reminds us of that person, etc, etc, blah blah zzzzzz.

Literary Non-Fiction Worksheet

It was one picture. That was all I took after three years of dating, three years of marriage. Six years chalk full of gifts, Christmas’s and birthdays. One, small, insignificant picture was all I took that reminded me of him other than my memories.
It used to be a resident on our fridge, held up by an advertisement magnet. Somehow, on that dark day that I packed and left, I couldn’t part with it. I held it delicately, almost reverently. The front was high gloss like glass, my fingertips held the dull back, the corners were sharp, but would not cut the skin voluntarily. I can only imagine that out of every picture, it was the only one that accurately portrayed what I saw inside of him that made me fall in love with him in the first place. But what I saw in him, and the man I married were two very different people. I knew this; I finally realized that truth. My reasons for taking the photograph was to fill my own foolish, romanticized, ideas of who he was. I wanted to remember him for who he was, not what he had become. I covertly stuffed that picture inside of my suitcase, hidden in the folds of my clothes unbeknownst to my helping father. That very picture now lays in the bottom of one of my storage tubs in the farthest corner of the attic in the garage.
I don’t know if its gathering dust in the darkness, if spiders have managed to crawl in and find it, if the image ingrained in the paper will ever fade, or if I will ever want to unbury the photograph and look at it. And although I haven’t looked at the picture for over a year, I can still remember the image perfectly in my mind as if I had never truly hid it away.
The photograph was taken the day Aria was born. Our very best friends were having their first baby and even though we weren’t blood related we considered each other family. I was the excited “Aunt” and my ex husband was the happy “Uncle”. The day Aria was born I was unable to make it to the hospital so my ex husband went. He was sitting down in a hospital chair holding the small, helpless, red-faced newborn. He was holding her and looking up at the camera with the most utter joy and love in every feature. He was exuding such light, which permeated from within, it shown, even through the picture. His hazel eyes were clear and sparkling; they were so different from the cloudy, dark, angry, resentful, and all things malicious eyes that I had come to know. He was a monster and yet, his face at that moment had become an angel.
The first moment I held that cool photograph in my hands I was speechless, in awe, at how beautiful it was. It was the bait on a hook and my heart was the catch. It was successful. I was staring at the side of him that was no longer present, but that was the side of him that I loved.
Even now, though I don’t look at the photo, and its not sitting on my shelf, stuck in a frame, or pinned up to a corkboard, I can’t imagine throwing it away, or doing the initiatory burning-of-the-objects-from-an-ex with girl friends. Maybe one day, I’ll unbury it from the cold, musty, attic and finally lay it to rest but today is not that day.

Bookstore Observation

2009-09-04T09:41:00.000-07:00

*Class Assignment*

We didn't have class yesterday! Yay! ^^

Instead for the class hour we were supposed to go to a local bookstore and basically asnswer a few questions that out teacher had assigned to use, which were:

-Name and City of bookstore

-What is most prominently displayed?

a) does that display include fiction? poetry? and drama?

-What kind of customers are in the store?

- What are they doing?

-How accessible and large is the poetry section? short fiction? and Drama?

-What would you buy at the bookstore?

At first it was really boring, but after watching people for almost 2 hours it became more fun! ^^

Bookstore Observation

Barnes and Noble in Sugarhouse is a bookstore consisting of two floors full of books, audio books, magazines, and stationary. When first entering the store you are confronted with table displays of “New Arrivals” full of hardback books and “New to Paperback” books. The displays held fiction; I didn’t see any poetry or drama added to the mix.
The poetry section is not very easily reached, being on the top floor in the far corner of the bookstore. The section took up seven bookcases, each bookcase having four shelves on each. The drama section was directly next to the poetry section but only took up two bookcases with four shelves high. I didn’t find any short fiction but they had a normal sized bookcase that held a selection of essays.
The customer’s ages ranged from teens to seventies. Though most of the people in the store fell into the twenties to forties range and were female. There were a number of people sitting with laptops in tow; taking full advantage of the free wi-fi. They sat in café chairs and sofa seats bent over their keyboard, transfixed buy what they were looking at on the screen in front of them entirely oblivious to anything else around them. In the café area, a lady with short speckled gray hair sat with a stack of Feng Shui books in front of her. An older lady walks up to the café counter, she’s wearing a large rimmed garden hat, white blouse, canary yellow capris, and sandals with socks combo, she carries a large bag of objects found and bought at Bed Bath and Beyond. She walks away holding an iced mocha latte with a dollop of whipped cream. A young woman with chestnut hair, black flats, faded jeans, turquoise shirts, carrying a violent array of patchwork sunflowers of every color tote bag takes interest in the Halloween display that’s already been put up.
On walking around the store I see a college student taking a break by lounging in a sofa seat reading a book. Further down another isle a Barnes and Noble employee is taking a trolley full of books and trying to find room for them in the self-help section of the bookstore.
On the south side of Barnes and Noble is a long isle of nothing but magazines. Customers wander up and down picking up magazines, quickly flipping through them, either then, taking it back to a wooden bench or chair to read or replacing it back on the shelf and continue browsing. A woman’s phone rings suddenly interrupting her intense shelf scanning. She quickly answers the phone is a quick and hushed “hello?” and walks away trying not to bother anyone. While a man pacing a few isles toward the back of the store, booms loudly on his cell phone with ‘work talk”. On additional inspection, the women stay near the “house and home”, and “craft and hobbies” sections while the men stick to the far side of the magazine section in the “Automobiles” and “Sports” area.
A woman in her thirties appears to have just gotten out of the gym. She sports a hot pink exercise top matched with black shorts; she snatches up a magazine copy of “This Old House” and sits down on a wooden bench to read it. A few minutes later a balding elderly man, wearing a blue button down shirt, khaki pants and black shoes, confronts her and asks, “Are you Marie?” and with a shake of her head he is off, passing the cookbook section. A few moments hesitation in following him, and he has already seemly vanished! A few minutes later an announcement is made on the overhead system informing customers about a “Marie” needing to go to the customer service desk.
If I had the money to purchase items at the bookstore, it would be this:
A cool artsy notebook, a travel magazine, mangas, JRR Tolkien books that I don’t have or (other published copies of The Lord Of The Rings since my old pair has gotten beaten up from readings), and a map of Scotland and England.

Describe Your Earliest Childhood Memory

2009-09-01T16:40:00.000-07:00

*Class Assignment!* ^^

Remembering your earliest childhood memory seems easy enough, until you start to actually think of literally your first memory, then it becomes ridiculous.

So I just picked a memory when I was young that stood out. We are supposed to add a lot of senses (taste, sight, sound, smell, la la la) into the piece. I think it did pretty good considering when your young, most memories are a little bit hazy, you know? :)

Describe Your Earliest Childhood Memory

I’m poised at the end; my small toes curl over the lip of the diving board at the compound’s public pool. My head is bent downwards observing the drop I’m about to make. The blistering desert sun beats relentlessly on the back of my neck. I open my mouth wide, inhaling and holding my breath.
My muscles contract for a split second before I’m in the air. Arms outstretched in my weightless flight I ascend above the pools bright reflective surface. I land. My body sinks deep into the pool’s icy bowels, its quick water eddying around me. I float up with the help of my water wings that break the surface of the water and bobble happily. I sputter messily before opening my mouth wide and taking another gulp of air. I throw my head back into the water as I doggy paddle to the far end of the pool, periodically rising for more air and quickly dropping back down.
Through my goggles I see a whole other world. Vibrant to lazy blues etched with the bright flickering sunlight reflected on the floor below. I focus on the light and watch it turn beautifully to and fro in a wild dance.
I get out of the water, hot cement burning the bottom of my feet as I run around the pool to the same diving board. With the known excitement from the first plunge I get even braver. I climb up to the back of the diving board and pause just for a moment. I then spring forward and sprint down the board and take a running leap. The warm air moves past me, and the strong smell of chlorine fills my lungs before another dive.

Describe Yourself As a “Literary” Writer

2009-09-01T11:47:00.000-07:00

My first english assignment!! Yahoo!

I am, as the title suggests, describing myself as a literary writer in terms of what genres I write etc... blah blah zzzzzzzzzz

Describe Yourself As a “Literary” Writer

I blend the words of thought and truth into the subtle flowing beauty of darkened poetry. My written grief penetrating swift and quick to the reader like a paper cut to the finger.
I describe invented worlds, places, mountain ranges, rivers and streams. My love for those unseeing worlds of fiction evolves and falls into place on the written page for all to see. I flesh out characters and give them life, purpose, pain, love, faults, and fears – they are my imaginary friends – who are more real to me than strangers passing me on the streets.
I live for the written truth and pain, the light and the darkness; I share my story as I live my journey. I free myself from any shackles that I wish I could hide from but can’t. My triumphs, regret and shame I shed light to them in all their bitter glory as I write nonfiction.

...it did have an ending

BUT it was stupid!! It was about what I wanted to accomplish as a literary writer which was WAY to cheesy for my blogger viewers. trust me.

Write About A Scent

2009-08-23T22:04:00.000-07:00

Hardest topic so far. I had no idea how I should approach this one. So I sat in front of my computer, cleared my mind and just let my hands write the first few sentences. Once finished, I knew roughly how I wanted the little short story to go.

Topic For:

July 29, 2009: Write About A Scent

Druve bent down and let out an exclamation pushing back the light strands of his brown hair away from his eyes. His blue eyes sparkled wildly as he gently picked a piece of red fabric caught between the branches of brush. He closed his eyes and drew the fabric towards his nose and smelled it – vanilla with traces of sandalwood and the faintest hint of rose oil. He was on the right trail!

Mud-stained and carrying the worries and fears of his entire clan he gingerly placed the red fabric inside of his leather vest just above his heart. His hand hovered over the soft fabric. Sadness momentarily dripped into his heart, a sadness that came because of his honor and most particularly his duty. Druve was a knight sworn to his country and to his clan. He was given the highest honor of any knight, that of protecting the kings most precious possession – his daughter.

Princess Lenalia was the most beautiful woman that Druve had ever met. Their love was swift, but short. A knight loving a princess is never a happy ending – but a curse. Princess Lenalia was soon betrothed to another. Druve knew, out of his knightly duty, that he had to be happy for her even though all of his body and spirit were screaming otherwise. In the darkened nights alone in his bed he knew he couldn’t do anything. He was only a knight sworn to his duty – to live and die as a knight. He could offer her nothing but betraying his country and she abandoning her royal duty – they would be fugitives. Druve’s honor was such that it would be unfathomable to even attempt such treachery. So, as the morning sun would rise he would once again put on his happy and emotionless mask. He had to do the honorable thing and let Princess Lenalia’s feeling go, he could not lead on her feelings anymore.

It was in the middle of the night that the princess was kidnapped. He had no time to morn or reflect on his previous behaviour. He had only one and one purpose only.

Druve knew he was the best tracker in the kingdom. He now had her scent and would follow her trail. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and sea, great fully giving up his live for hers if he needed to. Not for his knightly duties, but for the duty of his heart.

Every Night...

2009-08-23T18:14:00.000-07:00

I didn't really know what to write for the topic, so I just had everyone who was in the room finnish the sentence "Every night..." ^^

Topic For:

July 28, 2009: Every Night…

“… I like to eat ice cream!” (Sophie)

“…I go to bed too late and dream of retirement in seven years” (Mary)

“… Polo Potty’s” (Brett)

“…he awakens underneath heavy clouds” (Charlotte)

“…I wish I could sleep forever” (me)

You’re In A Movie Theater

2009-08-18T14:56:00.001-07:00

Topic For:

July 27, 2009: You’re In A Movie Theater

Things to Smuggle:
+popcorn (hide in lining of purse)
+blanket (wrap around self like a sari or similar – its always colder in theaters)
+bottle of water (stick down BF’s pants)
+twizzler (construct and disguise as hippie necklace)
+choco covered raisins (pretend spare change and stick in coin purse)
+cotton candy (mold in shape of favorite childhood stuffed bear, Eduardo)

Free-For-All

2009-08-17T17:59:00.000-07:00

Topic For:

July 26, 2009: Free-For-All

Character Backgrounds:

Crow/AKA Havok - is a warmongering vampire who enjoys torturing his prey before consuming their blood...slowly.

Human - (thats not his name by the way I just don't mention it) he a short round weasel of a human

Angelique - Only mentioned in the first sentence. Is...lets just say, a female warrior that hunts vampires and other demons who Crow has grown a perverse attachment too and is savoring the moment to when he takes her life.

Crow was hungry with a burning desire for blood; his parched mouth yearned for the smooth, warm, thick juice and now after Angelique he was pining for a good meal. Crow glided through the forest, running nimbly as he tracked a human not far from where he was. The human had been a few miles ahead of Crow, but Crow had caught up easily and with little effort. Crow loved the hunt, the chase for a meal; he enjoyed it so much in fact that it was his preferred way of food. The only thing, of course, that made the hunt more enjoyable was if the prey knew it was being followed, the smell of fear made it that much better for him.

The human, Crow had noticed, had quickened his pace and was running faster through the dense mesh of trees as Crow felt the human’s heart beat grow louder and harder with every step. Crow widely grinned as he though he could taste the blood already.

Crow sprinted to get in front of his prey to catch a better look as he slid his sword out of its sheath with the grace of a cat and strength of a tiger. He finally stopped running when he had gotten just enough distance in front of the human to still be able to track his next movements. Crow stopped running and placed his back against a tree as he gently kissed his sword - a ceremonial kiss for a good kill. As Crow gently peered around the tree he occupied, a figure emerged panting wildly and stopped in the small clearing of trees to catch his breath. His oily eyes scanned the direction he had come from and then to the surrounding trees, his eyes passed right past Crow, oblivious to his presence. To this, Crow smiled delightfully, the human hadn’t even seen his killer staring at him intently with deep hunger registering in his eyes.

As Crow’s victim finished scanning the surrounding area, he waddled over to a dead felled tree and sat down, back facing Crow. Crow meanwhile slithered soundlessly through the bushes, fallen branches, leaves, and weaved between the trees toward his victim; his sword not far behind. Crow walked confidently right up behind his food and once Crow had gotten close enough he reached around the victim with one hand to stop him from squirming with his other, placed his sword to the humans throat. The human let out a squeal and instantly his heartbeat jumped a few notches and its legs beated furiously; Crow’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

“I can feel your heart beating against my hands that hold you.” Crow whispered into his victims’ ear, which to this, made the humans heartbeat even faster and Crow smiled yet again. “Not that it matters…you’ll be dead!” he sounded delighted.

With that he flung his victim against a nearby tree but before his victim could fall to the ground Crow glided over and reached out towards him. With one hand Crow held him by his throat to the tree with his victims stubby feet kicking wildly in protest.

”Of course,” he continued casually as his free hand sheathed his sword - for now, “I’d like to see the faces of the people I kill, call it -common courtesy.” To this he smiled in a suave crazed maniac sort of way, “But mostly I like to see their color fade slowly from their face as they die, the shock and horror registering in their eyes.” he darkly added with delight of past memories.

“B-bas-stard S-scum!!” The human happened to lurch out with strands of saliva.

In a quick flash of anger Crow back-handed the human with his free hand, a low grunt issued from the human spraying blood. But instead of mumbling forgiveness’s or even showing fear, he smiled, the human smiled, mouth full of blood he smiled at Crow.

“He’d kill you for killing me.” The human croaked with one greased eyebrow raised, eyes squinted, analyzing Crows reaction to his statement as saliva mixed with blood dribbled messily down his chin.

“Who.” Crow asked, eyes narrowing on his prey.

“Mmas-ster…” The human slowly and quietly hissed.

“What do you know of Master?” Crow purred, eyeing the human to see what he actually knew, if anything.

Crow knew his master had many spies and allies of different species, but if this was truly one of master’s pets…

“I haven’t finished my job,” the human croaked uneasily with the pressure of Crow’s hand closing in around his throat, “nor have you apparently...” He sarcastically spoke letting out a grin of satisfaction, blood oozing out the crevices of his teeth. “He’ll be very disappointed in your lack of, control…Havok.”

Crows eyes got wide for a moment than blackened with collected rage.

“How do you know me.” Crow spat. “How do you, a measly human know ANYTHING about ME!” If Crow was human, his face would have been red with rage but instead his face was as pale as a fresh blanket of snow. Crow’s only sign of anger besides the rise in his voice was his wrinkled forehead, narrowed eyebrows, and his eyes that were on the verge of shooting forth flames of a blackened frenzy. The human, however appeared not to be afraid of Crows sudden change in appearance and altering attitude simply spoke on.

“Master tells me lots of things…especially of his lack of faith in you….” The human watched Crow’s reactions carefully, playing with his every emotion.

“Liar!” Crow roared, letting his emotions get to the better of him. He tightened his hold around the human only letting him short bursts of air.

“Yo-ou can-n’t-t kill-l m-me!!” Hoarsely the human spurted almost incoherently out, “I’m un-ntouc-chab-ble!” He smiled gruesomely and a laugh that came out like heaving croaks of a frog.

The human’s last words echoed in Crow’s mind, he was than untouchable. Angrily Crow let go of his victim and turned his back. The human fell to the ground on all fours, gasping for air as he wiped excess blood away from his slippery mouth, and then let out a rasping chuckle. Annoyed Crow turns back around and picks up the vile human from the ground slamming him back to his perch against the tree.

“Just because I can’t kill you, doesn’t mean I can’t still have a little snack.” Crow accentuated his last word that turned into a menacing smile of sharp teeth.

“Why!!!” Came a high shrill as Crow clutched tighter onto his victim.

“You made me lose a meal.” Was his dark reply.

Write About Asking For Mercy

2009-08-17T17:56:00.000-07:00

Topic For:

July, 26, 2009: Write About Asking For Mercy

I don’t condone people who ask for mercy. Instead I hold my thumb out and turn it towards the ground in hopes that my imaginary gladiators will finish the job.

Write About A Conversation

2009-08-04T20:06:00.000-07:00

Topic For:

July 24, 2009: Write About A Conversation

I sometimes have conversation with myself over what I’m doing, what I want to do to the driver who just cut me off, or what I’m supposed to be doing that day. If its something that I don’t want to be doing then I reply in a sarcastic manner. Everyone talks to themselves and yet nobody want to admit it and fess up. They don’t want any third person thinking they are crazy, a freak, loopy, mental, or barmy. I admit that after writing all this down it does seem a bit quack, but who care? “I don’t!” I reply.

True story. As true as lollipops, blue skies, and shifty-eyed jack down the street.

Write About Being Late

2009-08-04T20:01:00.000-07:00

Topic For:

July 23, 2009: Write About Being Late

In elementary school I hated being late. Walking down the empty (probably ghost infested) halls, your echoing footsteps sounding like cannons being shot off. You finally reach your classroom door and take a deep breath before the plunge. You enter a time warp and everything gets stuck in stuck in slow motion, every eye turns to you and stares as you enter, hand the teacher a late note and then walk back to your seat. You can feel your cheeks and neck getting hot as you wish at that moment instead of the time warp you had just turned invisible.

Another true story!! Am I getting sentimental?? Nah!

The First Time I Saw_____

2009-08-04T19:59:00.000-07:00

Topic For:

July 22, 2009: The First Time I Saw_____

The first time I saw it I ejaculated “Oh Shit!” before I could think of anything smart to say. The spider didn’t hesitate (it must have sensed my fear) it scuttled in all its fast furry straight at me. I immediately started screaming and stamping my feet wildly. In the end it came down to this:
Spider 0 Me 1

This actually happened to me the other night as I was heading to bed. Damn spider! Whose laughing now!! mu-hahaha!

Nothing To Do About Anything

2009-07-29T14:53:00.000-07:00

This post has nothing to do about writing, unless you take into a account that I found all of these items on: www.paper-source.com and well, paper + pen = writing? A stretch yes, but I think it works ^^

Cuss Cards - European Edition

"...playing cards translate useful English swear words, insults and slang into French, Italian, Spanish, German, Dutch, and Swedish."

Lovely way to have even more fun and heightening your creativity while swearing.

Mini Chloe Butterfly Doll

A toy for children of all ages, who don't mind a doll that looks to be sprouting underarm hair.

Gnome Soap-On-A-Rope

"...french milled soap shaped like a gnome on a nifty rope has a clean grass scent and comes in adorable woodsy gift packaging."

Don't know what to say except "no thank you!"

Parent-Child Contract

"...humorous yet practical book contains 30 parent-child contracts-- the parent and child specify the terms of the agreement and secure with a signature, as well as outline the penalties of breaking the agreement. Comes with magnets and pencil of justice."

Family fun! I like how they named the pencil "the pencil of justice" makes it sound all heroic.

I've now saved the best for last.

Personal Library Kit

"...easy way to organize your books and keep track of the ones you lend out to friends and family. Kit includes 20 self-adhesive pockets, 20 checkout cards, a date stamp, ink pad and genuine pencil."

Crazy at it may sounds, I want one. I really really want one. It just seems like fun.....

Write About Packing A Suitcase

2009-07-25T12:55:00.000-07:00

Topic For:

July 22, 2009: Write About Packing A Suitcase

Packing for Trip:
Neatly fold all clothes and pack tightly into main part of suitcase. Put all toiletries into plastic zipper bags and place into smaller section of suitcase. Make sure to pack extra underwear!!

Packing for Return Trip:
Throw everything in and sit on suitcase while zipping it up.

Write About Passing Time

2009-07-25T12:39:00.001-07:00

Topic For:

July 20th 2009: Write About Passing Time

-Daydream
-Sleep
-Play games
-Surf the web
-Chat: la la la

Write About A Time You Got What You Wanted

2009-07-25T12:34:00.000-07:00

Topic For:

July 19th 2009: Write About A Time You Got What You Wanted

I wanted chapstick – no – I NEEDED it. I wanted the tube chapstick, not the roll-on, or the liquid chapstick – the tube chapstick. And not just any kind but Smackers Celestial Strawberry! So I went down to the store and bought three.

Hm.. true story. I like chapstick and lots of it. Its my cocaine.

Write About A Recurring Dream

2009-07-23T08:58:00.000-07:00

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July 18th 2009: Write About A Recurring Dream

I’m at school, a place I consider as “safe” but regardless he shows up. I’m mortified and panicking. I keep asking myself “why is he here?”, “Why is he here?” over and over again. School is supposed to be the one safe place that I can go without the fear of seeing him.
I spend the rest of the dream running around, trying to go to my classes without him noticing me.

In A State Of Disarray

2009-07-20T17:30:00.000-07:00

Topic From:

July 17, 2009: In A State Of Disarray

Somebody very wise once said that you should never wear something that scares the cat. Such sound advice Penny never gave any thought to. Her overly obese calico cat Mr. Pigglesworth made a wailing meow at the sight of Penny and ran for under the sofa. Mr. Pigglesworth was so fat in fact that his belly and back legs could still be seen kicking furiously to get under cover.
Penny had just woken up and unbeknownst was already in a a state of disarray. She hadn’t bothered to wash to hair so a combination of bed head and old hairspray meant her dirty blonde hair in the night had formed mad forms and peaks. She hadn’t washed her face either so her eye shadow, liner and mascara all streaked, she looked like an emo raccoon. Her flannel pajamas she wore had food stains all down the front from the bowl of ice cream she had been eating in bed. To Penny this was just the start of an average day.

Poor poor disillusion Penny with her horribly messy personal hygiene. I like her cats name though! and the quote-ish in the first sentence is a true quote I read from somebody once upon a time.

Half an Hour Before Sunrise

2009-07-20T16:54:00.001-07:00

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July 16, 2009: Half an Hour Before Sunrise

Aleister had always been the depressed type. He could never remember a single moment in all 280 years of his life where he had been happy. It didn’t matter if he still looked like his 23 year old self but, after 257 years of staring at the same old ageless face – he had grown quite sick of it.
257 years previous Aleister thought that agreeing to turn into a vampire would solve all of his problems….mostly his emotional and psychological problems. But it didn’t work out that way; Aleister still had his gloomy temperament, fear of spiders, toothpaste, shinny balloons, insomnia, and horrible allergies, among other things…
Aleister had the most melancholy disposition of anyone he had ever meet in all of his very long life and just that fact alone had worn down his self-esteem. So now Aleister had no self-esteem either, to add to his growing sad list of issues. So half of an hour before sunset Aleister sat in front of the ocean waiting for the sun to rise.

The end! So what happens? Does Aleister live or die? Will the sun turn him to dust or give him a nasty sun burn? Who knows. What I do know is that I couldn't write his death. Although it could be quite poetic, him turning into grains of dust like the sand on the beach. But there is something generally sad, funny, and lovable about Aleister and his melancholy/suicidal nature. Truthfully, I think Aleister won't commit vampiric suicide - he just complains a lot. Otherwise he would have done it ages ago. ^^

It Was That Kind Of Day

2009-07-20T16:12:00.000-07:00

This is actually a true story. Weirdest, strangest and best of times.

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July 15, 2009: It Was That Kind Of Day

It was the kind of day that seemed to blur onto the next. It was hard to tell where one day ended and the next began. Conversations, hanging out, homework, experiences, road trips, all meshed together.
“Did we go to the zoo on Wednesday or Thursday?....or was it Friday?” These were the normal questions we’d constantly be asking ourselves. My friends and I would all be hunched over deep in thought with a wrinkled brow.
“When did we go to the zoo?...” We didn’t have bedtimes or curfews to keep us grounded. We’d use every hour to our advantage. All-nighters and running on less than four hours of sleep was a daily occurrence. What felt like one day would be three days entangled together haphazardly.
“See you tomorrow” we’d say.
“No.” We’d correct.
“See you today.”

Write About An Epiphany

2009-07-20T15:55:00.000-07:00

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July 14, 2009: Write About An Epiphany

A burst of intuition. A flooding of knowledge and knowing. It’s the “ah-ha” moment.

Write About A Theft

2009-07-16T21:26:00.000-07:00

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July 13, 2009: Write About A Theft

Liv giggled and blew a bubble of gum. Her pink hair was pulled up in pigtails, her bangs brushed over the forehead of her young face. Her blue eyes burned with mischief in the darkened jewelry store. She hummed a happy tune to herself as she silently skipped along on the beams above the fields of glittering jewels below. She had just managed to duck out of they way before a security guard had seen her. He was slowly making his way towards her direction so Liv decided to wait. She laid on her stomach, legs in the air, she propped up on her elbows and twirled her gum on her fingers. When the guard was lose enough, Liv slid quietly behind him, knocked him unconscious, and stole his keys. Liv then slithered her way toward the diamond behind the glass cabinets and took out the guards keys. On the third try the key slid effortlessly into the lock. Liv sniggered happily and began to fill her bag with the treasures. On her way out she returned the security guards keys and gave him a peck on the check as she hummed and skipped her way home, pink hair bobbing up and down.

“Throw Away The Lights, The Definitions and Say What You See in The Dark.”

2009-07-16T21:00:00.001-07:00

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July 12th 2009: “Throw Away The Lights, The Definitions and Say What You See in The Dark.”

Colors and shapes blossoming and withering before my eyes like flowers. Swirling kaleidoscopes, tunnels, and paths to the starry skies of our inner universe.

It Was As If...

2009-07-16T20:54:00.000-07:00

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July 11, 2009: It Was As If…

It was as if my life was flashing before my eyes, except that it wasn’t my whole life. It was all of the abuse – all of it. Images flashed before my eyes one-after-another. I had just enough time to comprehend them before they were gone and a whole wave of more images came flooding in front of my eyes. I was paralyzed, rooted in the spot by mind and flesh. I saw the bitter cycle of hurt that was never-ending.

Write About a Postcard

2009-07-13T09:33:00.000-07:00

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July 10th 2009 : Write About a Postcard

Great blues, charismatic yellows, and stunning gold. The hand-painted sunflower appeared to come to life straight behind a vast Tuscan sky.

Write What You Wanted To Do

2009-07-13T09:31:00.001-07:00

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July 9th 2009: Write What You Wanted To Do

I wanted the commuters to disappear. I wanted all traffic and bumper-to-bumper craziness to cease. I wished that the others drivers would realize suddenly in a flash of intuition that they didn’t need to take the freeway home/shopping/restaurant/friends and clear a space for me to pass through. I wanted to take the cars and flick them off the road one by one like ants on the sidewalk.

It Was a Good Idea At The Time

2009-07-13T09:24:00.001-07:00

Man I'm so far behind on updating my blog! T-T"

Forgive me! *bowing down to the Blog Gods*

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July 8th 2009: It Was a Good Idea At The Time

Chris laid on his back in bed staring up at the cottage cheese ceiling. Passing his time by making shapes out of the asbestos. His blonde hair that streaked over his forehead was messy and sticking up on his left side. His blue eyes droopy from lack of sleep, and his chiseled jaw was speckled with unshaven stubble that tickled his face. He turned his head and checked the time from the clock resting on the night stand. The clocks numbers glowed sarcastically at him.
“Huh, gonna be late for work…” he said under his breath. “They are not going to believe this.”
Chris looked up towards his wrist, which clanked against the cuffs that held him captive to the bedpost. After all, he thought it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

A little pervy I know (fu fu fu) ....I really couldn't help myself *w*

Write About A Gate

2009-07-07T22:30:00.002-07:00

Nasty evil headache has attached itself to my head. grrrrr

Topic: Write About A Gate

The gate itself was tall, gothic in style, covered in spiny spikes, and was constructed out of the blackest metal and volcanic rock. Eva had traversed through all seven gates of the journey to Death. One last gate stood between her and her goal. The emptiness and darkness that surrounded her threatened to close in at any sign of weakness – but there was none. A dark stream of the deepest color blood gurgled around her feet in the direction, which she should follow.

You Are Standing On One Side Of The Door

2009-07-07T22:30:00.001-07:00

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July 6th 2009: You Are Standing On One Side Of The Door

I had come to this place many times in my dreams. The green door…it pressed ever closer filling my range of vision with bright emerald. I could tell it was a very old door extravagant in size and detail. Those once sharp details and edges were now rounded after the many layers of paint that had been applied. I reached for the diamond etched door handle and wrapped my fingers around it. For some reason it was frightfully warm to the touch. I turned the knob and pushed open the door. Ebbing blackness seemed to slowly coil and ooze out. I peered inside intent upon seeing what lay on the other side. Then I caught sight of something, it was out of focus and still covered in shadow. I continued to stare at it and it gradually came into focus. I saw what was inside, on the other side of the door, and I screamed.

Write About A Time You Cried

2009-07-06T15:27:00.000-07:00

In case you are wondering Char, this is non-fiction. Since you always seem to ask if I don't post that it is already. ^-^

Topic For

July 5th 2009: Write About A Time You Cried

Gosh when didn’t I cry. The first month is always the worst. Every little thing can set you off – from something grand to the mundane: a car, store TV ad, newspaper article, song, movie, toothbrush, scents, books, locations, towns, even your likes and hobbies – its hell.

Write About A Voice

2009-07-06T15:25:00.000-07:00

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July 4th 2009: Write About A Voice

I heard a voice that said:
“Time to get out of bed.” And I obliged.
It was Fred, our house ghost, a spirit which hadn’t departed. He had a bowl haircut and thick glasses. I think he kicked the bucket in the 70’s. Droopy-eyed I stopped in front of the bathroom mirror, further inspecting the silvery-gray and transparent hovering ghost who watched my as I brushed my teeth. I then walked to the kitchen and turned on the pot of coffee. Fred lazily followed floating serenely through the kitchen wall.
“Anything interesting happen in the night?” I ask trying to make small talk while sticking a bagel into the toaster.
Fred appeared apprehensive and rubbed his silver-gray hands together.
“umm.. a cat…got into a fight…over a dead mouse…..with the neighbors cat…I tried to stop…the fight….instead, they swatted….and spat…at me….umm…you also…turned five times in……your sleep…more that….yesterday…”
“Uh-huh, you don’t say.” I said idly. He talked so slow that the coffee was just finishing up and the bagel already had a fat layer of cream cheese. Fred rattled on but I was hardly listening.
Boring and dorky. I guess I was even attracting them even as dead ghosts – just my luck I thought and bit into my bagel.

The end.

I thought a ghost watching a mundane action like someone brushing their teeth was funny, don't know if anyone else thought soo... :-/

Write About The Inevitable

2009-07-06T15:23:00.000-07:00

So, If you remember the post I did "So It Has Come To This" I introduced two assassins: Mello and Nero. Well this is Mello's partial point of view from that battle. If you don't remember it, I suggest you re-read it before starting on this one. ^^

Topic For:

July 3rd 2009: Write About The Inevitable

Mello knew the outcome as the first shots rang out. Somehow he wasn’t surprised. How many years had he killed the innocent and the guilty, torn families apart, made enemies of stranger and friends. Mello’s line of work wasn’t one with a happy and long retirement. He’d be lucky to live past the age of 35. Only the best in his field could stay on top of the game. He was good, he admitted, but not that good. He turned over a table on the hotels balcony and pulled out his .45 from under his jacket. He carefully peered over the lip of the table to see which assassin it was that held such a grudge against him to not even make it a clean hit job.
“Nero.” He muttered to himself as he identified the assassin.
He knew he shouldn’t be surprised and yet he was. She was a prodigy in the field – cold and cunning. All human emotion was severed after witnessing her family’s murder. After the incident he practically raised her, but he wasn’t ever what you’d call a father figure. Secretly in the dark recesses of his mind he knew she’d come after him and hunt him down. What he knew, what he did or what he didn’t do, concerning her family. Looking back, it was all inevitable.

These Were The Frequently Asked Questions

2009-07-06T15:22:00.000-07:00

Not particularly happy with this one...oh, well.

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July 2nd 2009: These Were The Frequently Asked Questions

- Are you all right?
- Can you please restrain from singing, “The hills are alive with the sound of music” while trying on dresses? Your scaring the customers.
- Do you always dress like that?

The Possibilities Are Endless

2009-07-06T15:21:00.001-07:00

This Post makes up for the epic one the other day. :-)

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July 1st 2009: The Possibilities Are Endless

I feel the whole world has opened up. I can do anything, be anything, live anywhere. My possibilities are endless.

“Long Afterward, I came upon it again…” (after Colette)

2009-07-06T15:18:00.000-07:00

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June 30th 2009: “Long Afterward, I came upon it again…” (after Colette)

Colette and I were inseperatable playmates. How we laughed, joked, sang songs, made mischief, and gave Colette’s governess grief. We were as thick as thieves.
On this particular afternoon we nicked some bread and cheese from the kitchens. We ran side by side giggling down the garden path in our matching white sundresses patterned with pink, yellow, and blue roses and large rimmed hats. We ran around the many varieties of rose bushes and tall perfectly cut green hedges until we found a dead-end made by the tall wall-like hedges. We opened our napkins and inspected our goods before divining them between us.
“Well aren’t you going to share?” It was a mans voice, “Its quite rude not to offer any to your guest.” His voice was rich like the earth.
We both looked around and saw that an archway had materialized and inside the light cast an emerald green glow. A young man sat lounging on a large boulder above a silver-green reflective pool. He wore very fine clothes, he was obviously rich, he had very fair skin, chestnut hair and bright emerald eyes. His sudden appearance was quite a shock. As far as I could tell, the archway, man, and pool weren’t there before; they somehow popped out of thin air. I was speechless; Colette on the other hand spoke first.
“I’m sorry but this is our food, and I say your hardly our guest since I have no idea who you are or where you came from.” She was never shy about speaking her mind. “So if you will excuse us, we shall enjoy our food. If you are hungry, you can go up to the house and try to beg for some.”
At the end of Colette’s rather haughty speech I was even more speechless, if that were possible and a little horrified of the strangers wrath for speaking to him in such a manner. The young man laughed heartedly that almost sent him rolling off the large rock. He appeared to be quite amused.
“Your not surprised about my presence are you…Colette.” His eyes sparkled knowingly.
“H-how do you know my name? Are you an acquaintance of father?” Colette asked a little abashed.
“No…I just know lots of things.” He said matter-of-factly and shrugged.
I tugged on Colette’s puffy sleeve.
“I think we should go elsewhere.” I whispered and giving quick unsure looks over Colette’s shoulder at the young man who was just smiling in our direction.
“Why should we somewhere else? This is my families property. If anyone should leave it should be him!”
I feared Colette had talked to loud and the stranger had heard but he gave no such inclination. Instead he lightly jumped off the boulder and other smaller rocks and stood by the pools edge. From his pocket he pulled out a shinny red apple. Then holding it by the stem he dipped it into the water and pulled it back up. The silver-green water clung to the apple coating it completely in a shimmering coat. Opened-mouthed I turned to Colette to see if she had seen the strange event, but she only stared at it hungrily.
“Hey Colette…” No response. I shook her slightly. Still no response. She appeared to be under some type of hypnosis. The young man grinned, flashing his overly white teeth and holding out the apple.
“Its your favorite right?”
Colette nodded and still transfixed got up, knocking the bread and cheese out of her lap making her way to the young man with the apple glistening sickly in his outstretched arms. I sensed immediately that something was terribly wrong. I grabbed the hem of Colette’s dress and she just knocked it away. I called her name over and over again, pleading, crying for her to stop but she simply ignored me. I got up about to run after her when the archway closed up in a rustle of branches. I got one last look of my friend before it closed taking a bite out of the apple and the young man smiling mischievously at me.
Soon after Colette’s disappearance her parents moved away. I don’t know what became of them and their grief, but there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about Colette and that strange man. No one believed me naturally, the events seemed too weird and strange. The adults concluded it was my over-active imagination of a seven year old and dismissed it as such. Nonetheless, wanted posters went up for the strange young man in the green grove but he was never seen again and after a while everyone gave up and slowly went back to their daily routines. Colette’s house was never occupied again – the stories and rumors of her unusual disappearance spread far. The house over the years turned old and gray and the yard was taken over by the wild as the years passed.
Long afterwards, I came upon it again…the house – her house to seek the truth. My friend, would I ever find her? What I would eventually find would be both terrifying and enlightening. A surreal tale in itself.

I actually wrote a WHOLE LOT more. What happened to her when she went to seek the truth but was too lazy to write it up since it needed a lot of my attention and slight tweaking and I already had a lot of posts (from my vacation) to write up and didn't want to add a mammoth of one on top of all the other. You understand right? Maybe someday I'll add it, but not today.

Write About High Tide

2009-07-06T14:36:00.002-07:00

Topic For

June 29th 2009: Write About High Tide

Backed into the bay, pressed up against the forest and mountains the Japanese Shinto Shrine appeared out of a fantasy under the illusion that it was floating on top of the water in the oceans high tide.

Write About Small Change

2009-07-06T14:36:00.001-07:00

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June 28th 2009: Write About Small Change

- I painted a second coat on the bathroom walls
- I went to bed at 12:30 last night instead of 1:30
- I packed my suitcase
- I made scones

Small changes in my daily routines.

This Is Where I Went Wrong

2009-07-06T14:32:00.000-07:00

Topic for:

June 27th 2009: This Is Where I Went Wrong

True story by the way. I know I write a lot of fiction, but this one is a genuine non-fiction. ^^

I never read the instructions, yet did coffee mugs ever give out instructions on their use? I didn’t think so…yet if they did I can only imagine it would say: open top and insert water. Or if they did come with instruction I somehow managed to glaze over such minute details.

So I bought my first coffee mug, not intending to fill it with coffee but hot drinks like tea and hot cocoa. I was so excited to buy it, my first, my very own. It felt very special. Doing my morning routine I filled my coffee mug with water and stuck it in the microwave. The microwave buzzed and its hot plate turned in place. I grabbed my tea tin and started going through my varieties to find the perfect one that fit my mood that day. While I was doing this, I randomly glanced over at the microwave to see how much time was left on the timer. I gasped. My mug was rotating slowly inside the happily buzzing microwave as tiny red flames licked up its sides. I flung the door open and doused the fire. It was too late. My mug had melted beyond repair and as its soul rose to heaven I thought about how good it had served me. All 2.5 days of its life.

Gone and Leaving But Not Forever

2009-06-26T20:39:00.000-07:00

I might be gone for the next seven days and will most likely be unable to post anything! So here are the topics for the next seven days. Good luck my little lemon drops!

27th - This Is Where I Went Wrong

28th - Write About Small Change

29th - Write About High Tide

30th - "Long afterward, I came upon it again..." (After Colette)

1st - The Possibilities Are Endless

2nd - These Were The Frequently Asked Questions

3rd - Write About The Inevitable

Write About Making Of The Bed

2009-06-26T20:36:00.000-07:00

Topic: Write About Making A Bed

Take the under sheet and wrap it around the four corners of the bed. Grab a sheet and throw it over the bed. Don’t bother to tuck it in, since it’ll come undone in the night anyway. Throw on a pillow and ta-da! You are finished.

It Was Sunday, The Time It Happened

2009-06-26T20:32:00.000-07:00

I have nothing to say :-P

Topic: It Was Sunday, The Time It Happened

It was Sunday, the time is happened. The bells tolled in the tall chapel as the bride and groom made their way to the alter set behind a large stain glass window that provided a back drop for the largest wrought-iron cross in the country. It was the length of two buses; it was beautiful as it curved with fancy flourishes and spikes. The organist played, the priest wore a warm smile as did the family and friends all gathered in their finest attire. The couple dressed in the whitest of white held hand-in-hand seeing nothing but each other, as they stood ready before their God. The organ and the bells continued to toll, that’s why no one noticed the sound of ropes snapping and why no one noticed the cross starting to fall until it was too late. The bride looking up at the last minute shoved the groom out of the way as it crashed. The earth quaked violently from the force, out spewed an enormous canopy of dust, and the stain glass window began to crack and fall in colorful shards. The groom coughed having breathed in some of the dust when he caught sight of the gigantic iron cross pounded into the ground and in front of him the remains of his white bride crushed underneath in a blossom of crimson.

This Is What You See By Starlight

2009-06-24T19:46:00.000-07:00

Short post! *Hallelujah chorus* ^^

Topic: This Is What You See By Starlight

A dark blue canvas, sparkling scatter of star dust, crescent silver moon, and a world bathed in twilight grey and blue.

Write About An Hour Of The Day

2009-06-24T10:01:00.001-07:00

Whaa! Yesterdays Post ^-^"

Topic: Write About An Hour Of The Day

My life was being turned into the tv show “24”. Why though, was I the only one that heard the serious narrator in my head while folding laundry, random counting down noises as I walked down the street, and the clock on the lower left corner of my vision counting the minutes of the day. At first such occurrences startled me, I thought I had gone mad – Kept hearing voices, noises, and imaginary clocks that weren’t there. I contacted my doctor immediately where they ran numerous brain tests but all came back normal. Of course I was far from normal. It was more manageable when I was by myself but when I would go onto dates, the general reaction I got from my date would be that I was somehow mentally damaged. It wasn’t so much the clock that bothered me, it was the deep and serious narrator. Why? Did he have to narrate my every move? “Jill, walked to the salad bar again. It was her second time this evening. The danger of the calories going straight to her hips were mounting…” or while trying to listen to her date while over dinner. “Jill reached for the salt across the table, not knowing it could actually be poison. Jill was in danger not only from the salt concealed as poison but the fat content in the dinner rolls…” It was usually then that I would get a blank look in my eyes, it was hard to block out the narrator happily seeing danger in everything I did. As the coming months passed I actually got used to my-life-turned-24. It became a comfort when I would wake up in the mornings and hear the narrators’ voice. “Jill awoke with a start, did she hear someone in her apartment? Probably not, so she headed towards the bathroom hoping it would be less dangerous then yesterday...” “Dink, dink, dink,” as the clock counted down the time and Jill smiled quietly to herself.

Write About A Letter

2009-06-22T21:55:00.000-07:00

I do not know why but these topics are getting easier to write. Knock on wood! I just know saying that, I'll get the hardest topics for the next month... ^^

Topic: Write About A Letter

I didn’t want the letter. I wanted to burn it forget about it. The written address etched into my very soul and no amount of scrubbing would erase it. I thought about throwing it away, putting it in a box and forgetting about it, but even I knew that was impossible. I knew what the letter contained without even opening it. I knew what was written, what emotions would be splashed on the page and that I would cry for hours. But I still couldn’t bring myself to dispose of the letter. I still held it in my hands, anxiety reaching colossal heights. My curiosity got to the best of me. A part of myself cheered myself on, and another part spat and hissed - it couldn’t understand why I would hurt myself further. I tore open the letter. Folded open the pages and started reading. Quickly at first, then reading it slower again and a again. Sure enough, I was right about everything it contained. I was sad and cried but I was also angry and cursed.

Write About A Pair Of Shoes

2009-06-21T22:03:00.001-07:00

Soo tired...must sleep....

Topic: Write About A Pair Of Shoes

They were worn out. Faded. A million memories - a thousand footsteps. Once bright purple converse all-star’s still laced up with the green and black starred laces. How many places had they seen, had they ran? Through wet rain and hot sun, they had protected my feet. Felt cement, dirt, snow and grass. As I lived my life the shoes quietly followed. Through thick and thin they stayed by my side. The shoes had had a good life. These shoes had walked the world.

Someone’s Playing The Piano

2009-06-20T19:30:00.000-07:00

Hello Hello!

Topic: Someone's Playing The Piano

His soft emerald eyes stayed transfixed upon the black and white ivory keys in front of him. His black hair fell over his eyes that were deep in contemplation. He appeared to be unsure. He slowly lifted up his hands up to the piano and paused. Hesitantly his hands hovered mid-air as his fingertips brushed the keys. He let out a deep sign and rested his hands tentatively on the appropriate notes and started playing. His fingers tenderly slid down each key and then to the next. The melody was complex but held a certain elegance and melancholic tune. His kind eyes remained downcast and far off, remembering, longing.

In The Heat Of The Afternoon

2009-06-19T20:53:00.001-07:00

So this it todays topic!

Topic: In The Heat Of The Afternoon

Let me just say that so many things could be taken the wrong way with this topic. So saying that! It inspired this little trashy paragraph that makes your skin crawl and go "eww", "wierd" and have nightmares. Poor Roy.

In the heat of the afternoon Roy grabbed some more tanning lotion and lathered his body with it. A few girls ogled him in his bright red Speedo. He smiled jovially flexing his tan muscles as he did so the girls stopped mid-stride; scared. Roy confidently strode back to his hammock and hunkered down with his shades, lemonade with the little umbrellas and continued tanning. Passerby’s at the park just practiced their speed-walking abilities right past him. Roy in swimsuit, was nowhere near the ocean, lake, stream, pool, water park, or sprinkler - in fact he was in Minnesota. Roy unaffected by the general publics reactions to him in Speedo with beach gear, pulled out a copy of the latest novel in a popular romance series, admiring the Fabio cover before starting to read.

Out Of The Corner Of My Eye

2009-06-19T20:29:00.000-07:00

So this is yesterdays post! Doh! *slams head on desk - oro*

I was busy reading "D.Gray-Man" and then it was really really late and I got to lazy to write something. There! The truth is out there! Are you Happy! *raises fists in the air*

Topic: Out Of The Corner Of My Eye

I was dead tired. I had stayed out late with my friends and had only gotten a couple of hours of sleep before I had to get up and head to work. I was still yawning as I ran down to the street where my car was parked. “My La Bomba” was what I affectionately called my Subaru Justy. I got in as I threw my purse into the passenger seat and as I did out of the corner of my eye I saw a gnome. Just like the gnomes you find in people's gardens, or if you remember the old nickelodeon cartoon “David The Gnome”. He had dark pants, blue shirt, long white beard and red pointy hat. I quickly did a double take and only saw a pile of trash that was piled up in the seat corner. I had just mistaken a trash pile for a gnome. I gave a sign of relief and continued on to work.

True story. No joke. I always told people I had a wild imagination and did anyone ever listen? Not really, they preferred to refer to me as their imaginary friend in large groups.

Its Who You Met At A Party

2009-06-17T21:22:00.000-07:00

Hello my little treasures of happiness!!

Todays Topic: Its Who You Met At A Party

He was gorgeous. It was to good to be true. He was surrounded by a mob of girls; batting their eyelashes and goggling. He looked as if he could care less. Figures, I thought. Somehow not at all surprised. I returned to the snack table and loaded my plate. Ten minutes in and I was already gorging myself. Emotional eating ran in the family – at least that was my excuse when anyone asked. Urg, I was gonna feel this tomorrow during track as I crammed a handful of chips into my mouth. I turned around to head toward the couches when I found myself face to face with the hottie.
“Hi! I’m Eric. I’ve been watching you for a while and I thought you looked interesting enough to talk to.” He said while smiling sweetly.
Was that a compliment? I wasn’t sure. It them struck me that he’s said he’d been watching me. I tried to do a mental tally of how many times I’d headed for the snack table but lost track.
"Erm, Hie Errik. Nish to meet eu.” I said trying not to spray him with chips.

That is the end folks. Girl meets boy. In fact that is the only person the heroine of our story met at the party since she was otherwise so engaged in the snack bar. >w<

Write About An Island

2009-06-16T23:31:00.000-07:00

NOooo!! I missed todays deadline by 32 minutes! Now its time for tomorrows post. Oh well, I just got home so I'm still doing the post anyways.

Topic: Write About An Island

-green

-large

-room for housing developments

-good view

-friendly neighborhood (ie. savages are friendly)

-free coconuts

-plenty of fishing

-clothing optional *wink*

-lots of shade

-caution: sand everywhere, gets everywhere

-pet friendly

When The Dust Settles

2009-06-15T19:54:00.000-07:00

Hello, Hello! I happened to write this post before I got tired. Much better then yesterday! ^^

Todays Topic: When The Dust Settles

The wind swirled around their jeep as it got pelted with sand and rocks. The wind howled like ravaged beasts of lore. Jules had never been caught in a sand storm before. She found it terrifying yet, thrilling. Her traveling companion Richard, a small mousy fellow in his early twenties, looked petrified. Jules couldn’t blame him, being caught in a storm at night, the sand that twisted outside the car windows like grey ghosts. The jeep rocks slightly as Richard shifted seats to get away from the window.
“How long do you think it will last?” Jules asked the driver clearly and loudly hoping her voice would reach over the noise outside. The driver didn’t speak much English but he turned his beautiful dark face toward me.
“Don’t know. Different ah, always.” He shrugged smiling.
Jules nodded and went back to admiring the violent vacuum of grey outside. Then without any warning the storm broke and the howling ceased. It was like being suddenly thrust into another dimension after being in a time tunnel. Like in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy steps out of her colorless house and into the vastly bright world of Oz. She instantly grabbed the door handle and flew out of the car. Jules looked behind her and saw a dark thick wall moving away like a silent leviathan of old. The sand settled and she could see the mountains of sand that stretched for miles reflecting the full moon’s light. Jules looked up to behold the vast deep blue sky above her lit with a thousand bright specks of light. It seemed the heavens itself had opened and the Gods had lit their lamps to help them find their way home.

Write Abut A Dinner Party

2009-06-14T20:46:00.000-07:00

Ugh, tired and not much inspiration today. Short post. On the flip side it makes for very quick and easy reading. ^^

Todays Topic: Write Abut A Dinner Party

Masquerade themed. Women’s dresses bloomed with every color imaginable, which wore elaborate sequin lace, and feathered masks. Men wore exquisite black suits and tailcoats with modest masks. In the dining room was a long table glowing with soft candlelight and silver tableware with a seven-course meal awaited the guests.

These Were The Doubts I Had

2009-06-13T21:54:00.000-07:00

Hello my little sugar plums!

I now its a late post geez almost 11PM, but I always write out my posts on paper then type them up and sometimes that takes a while - especially if I get distracted.

Todays Topic: These Were The Doubts I Had

PS-The post is from a guys perspective. you'll see once you start reading (hopefully) errr..

The plan was to repel down the side of a building and snap pictures of a shady mayor doing a deal with the mob. I’m a private investigator who was hired by the mayors opposing candidate in the coming election. I usually didn’t take the jobs involving any run in with the mob. The possibility that I might not live to a ripe old age was a pretty big incentive to stay away. But business has been scarce and I needed the money.
I reflected on the past events that lead up to this moment while I hung sideways awkwardly. Everything had gone according to plan but I had repelled too close to the window I was going to sneak photos from. I decided to climb up higher when I slipped, got tangled in rope and fell a few feet so I was rotating slowly in front of a large window where the mayor and the mob boss were watching, mouths gaping.
“Well, better not waste the moment.” I said in a casual manner.
I grabbed my camera which’s strap was still attached around my neck and took a couple of shots.
Click! Click! Click! Click!
My camera flash bounced of their still stunned faces.
Then the mob boss snapped out of his trance. He sputtered and pointed his fat finger in my direction:
“Intruder! Get him and his camera!”
I managed to somehow get loose as a spray of bullets narrowly missed my head. So full of panic with thoughts of “I’m gonna die I’m gonna die” that once I hit the ground I was running in the opposite direction of my getaway car. These were the doubts I had:
-I was going to survive this afternoon
-Being a private investigator was a good career choice
-That I have exceptionally good luck
This wasn’t the first time I was running for my life, being chased by people who could fold me like origami, and were shooting at me. It was a good thing I was young and in shape as I sprinted to who-know-where arms flapping madly at my side, knees high. This was going to be a long day.

“Afterward, I Thought About…”

2009-06-12T16:59:00.000-07:00

Today and yesterdays posts have both been weird shorts. I guess I just write in waves, of serious, goofy, horror, etc..

Todays Topic: “Afterward, I thought about…”

“Afterward, I thought about the monkeys…its always the monkeys..” shell-shock etched in every feature of Clementine’s as she thought back to that horrible day 5 years prior.
She did pizza delivery by bike through the crowded streets of New York City when the monkeys came. Nodding to the beat of her music on her I-Pod while stopped at a red light with a fresh pizza warming up her bike rack. Monkeys came swinging down from the traffic lights screeching, hopped over cabs like a swarm of ants, and hooted as they attached people’s heads and hair pieces. Chaos erupted immediately – it was the Apocalypse. People panicked as monkeys danced on their heads and whacked them with their own purses. Shops immediately closed and locked their doors to try and keep the monkeys at bay. People rushed to get into the stores in time. The ones who hadn’t made it lay collapsed by the glass doors crying and pleading to be let in. It was only a matter of time before a group of monkeys would spot them, signal to one another to drag the person away. Clementine in the meantime was playing tug-of-war over her pizza with the apparent leader of the monkeys who was sporting a Krispy Kreme hat.
“After that I blacked out.” Explained Clementine.
“Most likely from shock.” Said Bern, Clementine’s shrink as he absentmindedly took notes.
“Everyone found out later that the monkeys had banned together to escape some lab that was testing on them.” Clementine shivered. “I can’t go to the zoo, ride my bike, eat pizza, go near a balloon animalist, even the sight of a banana makes me scream and run the other direction.” Clementine grabbed a fistful of blonde-streaked with pink hair looking anxious.
“Well,” and Bern adjusted his glasses smartly, “your not the first to come in having had similar symptoms. Here is a prescription that I think with help ease your anxiety.” Bern scribbled something ineligible and handed it to Clementine.
“I think that will be all for today’s session. I’ll see you next week.”

Moral of the story is...I guess... to not test on animals for their revenge will be great? and you'll be so scarred you'll have to spend over 5 years of therapy to fully deal with it.

Write About Mistaken Identity

2009-06-11T15:27:00.000-07:00

Today is a lovely day, dark and stormy with some sprinkles!

Topic: Write About Mistaken Identity

Charles had no idea that his sweet girlfriend Libby, who was a florist by day was also an adrenaline-junkie-kleptomaniac-of-credit-cards. Indeed Charles, whose clean-cut, boy-next-door look fit perfectly with blond summer dress loving Libby, he never suspected a thing. Of course if Charles looked in his dear sweet girlfriends Libby’s apartment he wouldn’t have found anything at all to tip him off to Libby’s kleptomaniac-of- credit-cards addiction. But of course clean-cut Charles was too dense to ever suspect that anything was at all wrong with his summer frock-loving girlfriend. If Charles hadn’t been the dense boy-next-door type he probably would have done a peck of snooping. If Charles had, for instance, looked in the cupboards he wouldn’t have found anything strange, if Charles looked in between the couch cushions he would have found 27 cents, and if Charles had a foot fetish or any desire to try on woman’s shoes he would have found his sweet and blonde girlfriends stash of credit cards. Charles would have then found them in under a minute upon first entering Libby’s apartment for the very first time, roughly give or take a few minutes. Now you are probably asking yourself why I first described Libby as an adrenaline-junkie-kleptomaniac-of-credit-cards? Well, when a girl is down, sad, or depressed most enjoy a gratifyingly mental remedy called “retail therapy”. Sweet girlfriend of Charles, Libby, takes a venture into her shoe closet where not suspiciously hidden is her shrine of credit cards all color coordinated to match her shoe collection; naturally. Libby likes to then put on a summer frock and skip down to the nearest Gucci or Donna Karen for a little bit of retail therapy. Little Libby loves the adrenaline rush mixed with happy endorphins of using someone else’s identity for her happy shopping needs. Good boyfriend Charles with his boy-next-door looks and charm will never know of Libby’s klepto habits as long as he lives; according to Libby.

Ha! I bet you didn't see that coming! And I did write about mistaken identity, just not from the victims point of view but a neurotically sweet one. Haha ^^

Write About A Compromise

2009-06-10T16:00:00.000-07:00

Hello!

Todays topic is: Write About A Compromise

It was kind a tough one yet again. But once I started coming it just kinda came, lets just say it was at least good writing practice. ^^

Eleanor only wanted two things: her company she had started from the ground up, and a stone cottage she and David had bought last summer with plans of revamping it. David could have their two Mercedes, boat, house in the Hills, their two dogs, big screen TV, swimming pool, even their maid that came every other day who didn’t speak a lick of English but understood arm motions very well. After 20 years of marriage, raising a beautiful daughter (now in college) he decided to knock up his girlfriend/home wrecker/tramp/scarlet/whatever you want top call her.
“Uh-huh, okay let me talk it over with my client and I’ll get back to you. Bye.” Ruth, Eleanor’s lawyer, hung up.
“Alright Eleanor,” she putted her brown bangs away from her face.” that was David’s lawyer...” Ruth paused and Eleanor could tell it wasn’t good. “He said you could have the cottage only if you give him 50% of stock in your company.”
“O-H.” was all Eleanor was able to mouth.
Eleanor could have the stone cottage but at what cost? Was her house or her company more important? Furthermore with 50% of the shares that meant David would own 50% of the company, enough to make 50% of the decisions. That means she would have to still see him, if only for business purposes. But she’d be looking at the man who broke her heart and home. Eleanor could have the cottage but never be given the opportunity to get over David. It wasn’t fair that David was taking so much from her, demanding Eleanor to give so much before she could get what she wanted.
But the cottage…the first time Eleanor had seen it she knew it had been built for her to find someday. An old broken wood fence rose bushes and hedges grown wild, large windows, wood floor that needed to be refurbished, beautiful archways, large garden in back, the bones of the house sang to Eleanor. There Eleanor knew was her place of healing, her new home, and where she finally belonged. Eleanor had come at last to her decision.
Ruth, tell David that he can have the whole company in exchange for the cottage.”
Ruth nodded and flipped open her phone as she relayed the information to David’s lawyer.
“Oh and one more thing, “ Eleanor added, “He can have the company but I want my dogs.”

Rising Early to Begin The Journey

2009-06-09T20:49:00.000-07:00

Topic: Rising Early to Begin The Journey

The weary traveler sat on a fallen log hunched over the remaining embers of his fire gathering what little warmth was left. They glowed docilely before he doused it with a cup of stream water, it hissed in response as gray ash and smoke rose. The crisp air hung thick and through the fog a faint and soft light could be seen just behind the Argon mountain range in the distance. The traveler took his time to saddle his brown stead and attach his belonging to the back. She pawed the ground anxious to get going. The sky was now lighting up in violent shades of orange and pink. The traveler wrapped his traveling cloak tighter around himself and mounted. His horse threw her head back as he scrambled to get control of the reins and something long and sharp glinted underneath his tattered traveling cloak. The rider set off in a gallop toward the Argon Mountains to the uncharted territories that lay within the tall razor peaks.

This Is The Voice of My Body

2009-06-08T18:10:00.001-07:00

Wow! What a hard topic. For a split second I thought I might change it to something less difficult. But then I figured that even though nobody would know I had switched the topic, I would. And I realized that writing isn't always easy, so no matter what I would take the easy topics as well as the hard no matter what.

Topic: This Is The Voice of My Body

It didn’t matter how many races I ran I always felt the same: heart thumping out of my chest, butterflies zooming around my stomach, shortness of breath like I might faint at any moment. I walked out onto the track and set up my blocks I could feel myself trembling slightly from nervousness and anticipation. I positioned my legs and hands as I could hear the man with the pistol.
“On your mark!.......”
“Get set!.....”
“BANG!” As the starter pistol shattered the air.
My muscles tensed as I pushed myself up and out of the blocks as fast as I could. Every muscle interacted with the next in perfect unison and harmony as I pulled my head up into a sprint. Arms pumped, breath was quick and forceful. My feet tore into the track with every step as I pressed myself harder and swifter. The wind whizzed past my face as my arms sliced through the air. My body felt light; my legs barley touched the ground before they were being lifted back up again. It was the closet thing I had ever felt to flying. In that moment I felt free – everything seemed to slow down and I felt as if I could run like this forever without tiring. No other feeling could compare to this form of flying. On the track I hit the 150yd mark, this was the point for me to put on an extra “kick” of speed till the finish line. Every ounce of energy and strength I had I put instantly into my movement. Arms, Legs, breath and heartbeat, all quickened. After a short while my body started to fell the exhaustion and strain of pushing myself beyond my max. But I knew I couldn’t stop; not yet. 50yds left and my legs start to ache and burn profusely. Again I dismiss the pain and keep pushing my body forward. I have but one goal; all I can see is the red tape stretched out ahead of me. No other thoughts occupy my mind other the finish line. I hit the red tape and start to slow down. My legs are no longer burning but are wobbly and I am surprised I can stand. I shake out my legs one at a time as someone comes up to me and gives me my time. My body is exhausted and grateful for a cool down stretch before resting.

Write About Something That Came In A Box

2009-06-07T14:01:00.000-07:00

This is a very broad topic, practically anything can come in a box (or does) I just picked the first thing that came to mind.

Topic: Write About Something That Came in A Box

Popcorn packaging burst from the box as I cut open that last piece of tape holding the box together. I worked my way, digging out each little knick-knack I had received. I felt like an archeologist uncovering a great treasure. The boxes contents were shrinking while the ocean of styrofoam popcorn expanded. The last thing that I pulled out of the box was a smaller box with a note attached. I read the note.
“I had one at the Farmers Market it was so unique I wanted to share it with you.”
Hmm, this sounds interesting I thought. I peeled the tape off the small box and peered inside. The object was about the size of a tennis ball and had a blue/purple-ish tint. Curious I pulled it out, it felt soft but wasn’t runny or mushy. To my surprise and quickly disgust I found it to be an exotic fruit. If I hadn’t known the recipient of this fruit well I would have thought they were secretly trying to give me food poisoning or that I simply wasn’t properly reading the signals this person was sending me. Luckily the fruit hadn’t sprouted little green friends by the time it found its way on my doorstep, but that doesn’t mean it was fit for human consumption either.

So It Has Come To This

2009-06-06T12:42:00.000-07:00

So today's topic: So It Has Come To This

I decided to write it as fiction. After all I wrote the first thing that popped into my head after I read the topic.

The 5-star hotel lobby was dimly lit, lights that hadn’t been blown completely flickered and buzzed. Bullet holes rattled the walls and up the wrapping staircases to the balcony above. Blood sprayed the walls and motionless bodies lay in puddles. Glass in the wide windows and doors were no more and the extravagant chandelier lay fallen and shattered in pieces in front of the two duelists. Nero stepped forward toward Mello slowly and calculating as chandelier shards crunched beneath her army boots. Blood that wasn’t her own speckled her boots, black shorts, shirt and long jacket. A bash to the head just above the hairline of her stark black hair left a wet red line trailing down the side of her blank and expressionless face. Mello was on his knees, black slacks, white shirt ripped and torn splashed with blood. His right hand was gripping his left shoulder tightly where a bullet had gone clean through. He was bleeding profusely, his breathing heavy but he remained with a calm look on his face as he looked up the barrel of Nero’s sleek .45. His own lay on the floor in front of him, unable to pick it up with his dead arm.
“So it has come to this.” He said
“So it has.” Replied the other.

The End. No one will ever knows what happened afterwards, but maybe its also pretty obvious. When I wrote it I thought about how Nero and Mello are assassins and the story entered after they just had a huge hand/gun (mostly gun) battle. I got the name "Mello" from Death Note, such cool name I couldn't help but use it. Seemed appropriate to have assassins with cool names. They couldn't go around saying my name is "Bob the assassin". Ugh quite lame.

Write About Small Regrets

2009-06-05T11:14:00.001-07:00

Hello my little lemon drops!!

Day #2 is here! Hard to believe but I was so looking forward to writing another mystery topic that I almost peeked to see what it was to start writing it last night! Who knew I would be so excited about giving myself homework writing assignments.

Todays Topic is: Write About Small Regrets

Ha-ha pretty funny considering my post from yesterday. Well, small regrets…okay. One thing I regret is not starting school sooner, not putting myself (wants needs, etc) but my ex-husband’s first, relying on him, putting my future all into his hands instead of my own. I regret not getting an “A” in ALL of my classes last semester. I regret not playing in the rain yet this year, spending $15 on a white t-shirt I knew I wouldn’t wear but bought it anyways in the mind frame of “what if”, and not making the dark green stripes in my room larger. I regret drinking that tall glass of Pepsi last night which then kept me up and unable to sleep until 1:30am. I regret then watching Space Chimps last night, lamest movie ever I will never get back those 81 minutes of my life. Lastly I regret not starting these writing prompts sooner.

What Are You Looking For

2009-06-04T16:09:00.000-07:00

I've had this book given to me ages ago and there is has always been, sitting on my bookshelf quite lonely resting in between "Webster's Dictionary" and "Bird by Bird" by Anne Lamott. It had become quite forlorn sitting there, quite unpopular and gathering dust bunny friends. I decided it was time to dust it off and take another look at the book. As I read I pondered why it had taken me so long to find how wonderful this book actually is! Its called "A Creative Writers Kit" by Judy Reeves. In it, it has a topic for each day of the year to write on, whether you write about yourself, an imaginary character or someone else is quite up to you. The whole point is to write, all writers need practice. So I'm gonna try and make a point of writing everyday. I also invite anyone who wants to to join in and write the topic for the day as well. It can be a list, one paragraph, a sentence, funny, or serious. I'm not gonna be picky! ^^

Todays topic is: What are you looking for

You can write about losing ones car keys, the choco ice cream you know is in the freezer but is somehow eluding you, etc.. you get the point. ^^

What Are You Looking For
I’m looking for life, for a reason to be here, for myself, a reason to wake up everyday, to be happy, to live life to the fullest, no regrets, I reason why I’m here where I am. I want a purpose. Something strong that will pull me where I need to go and I will have the courage to follow. I’m looking for endless waves of creativity and passion for something worthwhile. I’m pealing back the layers looking for the real me – who am I, where am I in the vast depths of me. I’m looking for a way to live my dreams – all of them – no matter how insane or unreachable they may seem. My dreams are all the hope I have that my life will be better that it’ll mean something, and that I’ll be more fulfilled. I want to, at the end of my existence in this life, say that I have no regrets about what I’ve done with my life, that I was never too afraid to take a chance or a risk. I’m looking for my purpose, for my direction. I’m looking for a fun, creative, healthy, peaceful, fulfilled life, full of love and kindness. I’m looking for a way to be more than I am right now. Change can be scary but I don’t want to just dream in my mind – I want those dreams and ambitions to be manifested in the world around me so I can live life to the fullest.

Unsuspecting Adventure of Gwendolyn: Part 1

2009-03-09T16:30:00.000-07:00

Taking to Charlottes advice I decided to write a short fun story. So here it is! Part 1 at least. ^-^ Oh! and sorry for spelling or grammatical errors.

Gwendolyn liked her imagination much to the disdain of her father, her brother Hogarth, and especially her mother. She never understood why, just that it “wasn’t right” and “that’s not the way ladies act.” Gwendolyn didn’t see why it was so bad to be imaginative, it kept her company since her family ignored her most of the time. Gwendolyn currently was hiding from Hogarth in the tall brush surrounding her grandmothers’ country mansion. Hogarth was the exception; he made sure everything was her fault even if it was a flat out lie. Like the time she answered one of Hogarths questions politely like the way she was taught. The next thing she knew she was blamed for giving him an asthma attack and was send to her room without supper. On analyzing the situation afterwards, Gwendolyn couldn’t understand how talking to someone could give them an asthma attack instantly.
“Gwendy..” She heard Hogarth call in what she assumed he figured to be a sweet voice.
Gwendolyn knew better and stayed put. She happened to like this particular patch of brush, she had many fond memories with it since it had hid her effectively many a time from Hogarth. She especially looked forward to her family’s yearly visit out of the city to grandmas. She loved how she could escape for hours unnoticed and play to her hearts content, while her parents, made sure they were still getting an inheritance.
Gwendolyn sat clinging onto her stuffed animal rabbit named; “Colonel Floppy.” She was determined Floppy was possessed by a real spirit of a colonel and that one day he’d realize this. When he did, Col. Floppy would go from being 1ft tall to his original 15ft; would rescue her from her family and sit on Hogarth.
“Stupid sister.” She heard Hogarth grumble. He had given up and was heading toward the mansion when he tripped over a rock and fell face first to the ground; his glasses had broken.
“Look what Gwendy did to my glasses!” He screamed and cried the whole way.
Gwendolyn took this time to crawl out of the brush and dusted the dirt off her dress and Colonel Floppy’s large floppy ears. She ran through the gardens, past the water fountain, and the gardeners shed, until she reached a large dense hedge. She crawled through a secret breach in the hedge she had discovered years ago. On the other side laid a great man y trees, long green grass, and the smell of wildflowers. Gwendolyn and Colonel Floppy ran happily hand-in-hand through the deep grass until she came upon a particularly old gnarly looking tree. To anyone else it looked like a menacing, twisted, old tree but to Gwendolyn it looked like a kind old croon.
“Hello Grandpa Tree!” She said happily upon reaching its great trunk and giving it a welcome hug.
Gwendolyn gently placed Colonel Floppy in a small cozy nook between two gnarly roots and ran off to gather wildflowers a few stones throw away. Gwendolyn ran, jumped, danced and sang while gathering a large handful to bring back to Colonel Floppy and Grandpa Tree. Once she had gathered plenty of the white, and red ones she ran back only to find Colonel Floppy missing!
Oh no! Gwendolyn thought, he must had become aware he was a colonel, grown up, and run off! Just to be on the safe side, Gwendolyn checked all around Grandpa Tree but Colonel Floppy was nowhere to be found.
Gwendolyn started to feel distressed and called out his name, but no one answered back. She didn’t know why Colonel Floppy had left her, weren’t they friends? He was supposed to save her. What if a wolf eats him? She slightly remembered reading that wolves ate rabbits. She crawled up on Grandpa Tree and started to cry and before she realized it she had fallen asleep.
When she awoke it was twilight already, she had slept for most of the day! Her parents ought to be worried she thought but she couldn’t leave without Colonel Floppy. She got up and wiped her eyes, made sure her pigtails were sufficiently tightened before starting a larger search.
“Where are you going little girl?” A creaky deep voice called behind her.
Gwendolyn jumped in fright but when she turned around she didn’t see anyone. She started off again.
“Little girl where are you going? Its not save.” The voice boomed again.
“Whose there?” Gwendolyn called, “Colonel Floppy is that you?”
“Who is this Colonel Floppy?” The creaky voice answered.
It was then that Gwendolyn realized the voice was coming from the tree!
“Grandpa Tree you can talk! My name is Gwendolyn, I’m looking for Colonel Floppy my 15 ft rabbit, you haven’t seen him by chance?” Gwendolyn rushed the words out quickly.
“Gwendolyn it is not safe.” Grandpa Tree replied.
“But why isn’t it safe? I need to find Colonel Floppy at once! If you can talk and see me, then you must have seen what happened to Colonel Floppy!” Gwendolyn said enthusiastically.
“I did not see your rabbit, I was sleeping. Be wary, Baba Yaga will be out tonight. She is hunting for children.”
The mention of her name sent chills down Gwendolyn’s spine. She didn’t like the sound of that Baba Yaga.
“What should I do?” Gwendolyn began to cry again. It was already getting dark; the fireflies had come out and were filling the area with soft light.
“This is not a time to cry.” The tree said suddenly. “Baba Yaga is heading this way! You must hide!”
Gwendolyn ran and hid behind his giant trunk and nestled in between his roots. She peered around the trunk, the fireflies were gone and a silence had descended upon everything around her. She had never been so scared as she was now. She clutched tightly onto Grandpa Trees bark.
Something in the sky caught her eye and she looked up. In the air, flying, was a huge black cauldron. Inside the cauldron was the scariest old hag. She long gray hair filled with twigs and dirt, a huge nose, many wrinkles and beetle looking eyes. She appeared to be wearing a dark green rustic looking dress, and had a black cape. She held an old gnarly wooden staff, at the head of the staff a large skull was carved. Gwendolyn noticed that the Baba Yaga silently flew her cauldron from the direction of Grandmas house. She took a closer look and gasped! Hanging partially out of the cauldron was Hogarth! He appeared to be unconscious or sleeping but he was holding Colonel Floppy! She was ecstatic to find Col. Floppy and had mixed feelings concerning Hogarth.
to be continued...

Ugh!

2009-02-24T19:49:00.000-08:00

So academic writing is NOT my thing. I like being creative not analyzing every sentence and word. So boring in my opinion! :-P I fear adding my essays I've written to my blog with make people fall asleep (ZZZzzzzzzz) and never visit me again! Thats my worst fear! *sign* Everyone will have to hang tight till I can get something good to share.

Photo TAG!

2009-02-20T18:32:00.001-08:00

1. Go to your my documents/my pictures my equivalent would be hard drive/users/myname/pictures
2. Go to your 6th file
3. Go to your 6th picture
4. Blog about it

I've been tagged! So I went to my photo that came up was...SURFER DUDE! With pretty flowers on his head. Oh! so pretty! It was my trip to Oahu in November 2008.