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Not in my (name), you don't s;p;e;a;k for m e
I am my >>v o i c e<<, and I want to !SCREAM!
You want my |~a i r~|, you want my { {L I F E} }
I a.c.t as one, but I'm not <alone>.
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ZOMBiiFiCATiON's avatar

Eloquent Bibliophile

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Come on d o w n and w.a.l.k the {{moonlit}} mile
You've got the [ [p e r f e c t] ] teeth.
You've got the !PERFECT! smile
You do it all >>wrong<< but you do it in ( S T Y L E )
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                                          Bright, blinding spotlights filtered from overhead lights, the shine brightening up an inky
                                          blackness that was not there a minute ago. The murmurs from a surrounding audience quickly quieted, awaiting the grand performance. The single spotlight gleamed and shone, enveloping a girl, slight in build, on a grand stage, draped in white and red robes that are traditional for a Kabuki actress, though definitely less adorned than what they are usually like. She had hair so black it seemed to glow a faint purpleish blue -- indigo in shade, with the definite darkness of obsidian beneath it, layered in front and tied back behind it, the thick strands reached to the middle of her back. Her eyes were the shade color as her hair, yet they seemed to shift between blue, violet and black in the harsh light as she gazed out at her spectators. There was now absolute silence in the theater now, her audience eagerly awaiting her show. From behind the girl, a lute sounded. A soft but clear noise that sliced through the thick silence like it was a recently sharped knife, it began playing a soft melody, sweet and clear. Suddenly, lights were switched on and it revealed the scenery of a bright and sunny day, the girl began to walk, her feet crumpling the "grass" beneath them. A man appears, it seems, out of nowhere, also dressed in robes he tells her that he loves her -- a confession of deep and unyielding love. The lute quickens, and behind it, an instrument makes the rhythmic beating of a heart. The stage darkens to the point where it is only the girl, she speaks her thoughts of distrust and unwillingness -- yet also, how she feels the same love for him. The stages brightens once more, and she sadly tells him that their love cannot be, for she doesn't love him. A lie, for it was a play with a sad ending. The stage darkens to where both characters and stage disappears. The play ends and the audience gives the actors a round of happy applause -- they were pleased with the downhearted finale.

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                                          Ayumi sighed with relief as the stage darkened and she -- as well as her fellow actor, a young man named Kohiku -- were led off the stage by a revolving board in the pale blue sky behind them. As soon as they stepped behind the scenes, Kohiku shed his depressed expression and gave her a bright grin, slapping her hard on the back like she was an old buddy -- which she technically was, they had known each other since they were little. "Hey, Ayumi-chan! Excellent work out there!" she gave a bright smile of her own, her eyes brightening. "You as well, Kohiku-san!" she had always been polite to everybody -- that was just the way she had been raised. Kohiku gave her a weird look, full of scolding and a sort of sadness. "How many times do I have to tell you that we have known each other long enough for you to call me '-kun' not '-san', you don't have to be so respectful. Hell, we could even drop the suffixes completely if we wanted to!" Ayumi gave him a wary look, deciding that he would never understand her, despite all the years they had known each other. Walking away, she found herself at her dressing room -- though the plays she starred in usually involved history, there was nothing historical about her dressing room. Lavished with gold and silver embroidery on the carpet edges, pale ivory walls, antique furniture that had cost over thousands of dollars to acquire, lush carpet that felt as though she was walking on clouds themselves and a lovely vanity that was made out of pure marble, it was obvious that she was quite wealthy because she was the one who had paid for all of the luxuries. She collapsed onto a couch that was the same pale shade as the walls, still donning her costume. She was exhausted, but all that mattered to her was that the job paid well and that she had talent. Talent that everybody could see and everybody envied -- even Kohiku, she could the glimmers of jealousy in his eyes every time she sung, danced or even conveyed emotion in such a believable away that often, she made the audience feel the same way.

                                          Sighing loudly, Ayumi stood up, her dark eyes shining as she admired her reflection. She knew she was beautiful, as she was often complemented on her dire and tragic beauty, but she still found herself feeling like she was missing something sometimes. Something important in her life that she couldn't quite place. But she quickly dispersed her thoughts by thinking about her money -- the one thing she loved in her life. She began to take off her costume, placing carefully on a hook as to not get it wrinkled for she was suppose to wear it tomorrow for the same performance. Not that she minded really, it was actually one of her favorite plays to perform -- she loved to leave the audience crying, yet pleased with the show. She looked at the costume with admiring eyes, she couldn't wait to put it on again the next day and become the character once more. Running a hand through her bangs, she took out the hair she had pulled back in the band, letting loose long, straight locks that shone in the dim light of her dressing room. They fell forward across her shoulders and framed her pale face, making her even lovelier. She dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans with patches on the knees and a plain black tee-shirt -- a dramatic change from the glimmering actress from before, but she still held all her pride in her hands -- showing it off for all to see and envy. Because, as they say, jealousy is the finest form of flattery. Or perhaps it is imitation is the finest form of flattery, but Ayumi preferred the previous -- because everybody envied her. Her, even though she was missing something critical -- though she was not sure exactly what it was and it bothered her -- what could it possibly be that she did not already have? Frowning, she exited her dressing room and walked to the stage, the seats were now mostly empty -- except for a couple that held people that seemed to have fallen asleep during her performance. Ayumi shrugged, you couldn't get them all.






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ZOMBiiFiCATiON's avatar

Eloquent Bibliophile

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════════════════════════════════════
Not in my (name), you don't s;p;e;a;k for m e
I am my >>v o i c e<<, and I want to !SCREAM!
You want my |~a i r~|, you want my { {L I F E} }
I a.c.t as one, but I'm not <alone>.
════════════════════════════════════




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                                          Steps that echoed, made by thick-soled boots covered in equally thick buckles. The steps were being made on cracked concrete, the street had obviously been there for a long time and gone through a lot of things. Now, it wasn't the boots that were all that special, but rather the girl that was wearing them. A sort of tattered girl, her pale, thin face creased with weariness and streaked with dirt here and there. Her bright cyan eyes were a bit glazed over, as if she was off in her own world while she walked the desolate and lonely road and her long, black hair, tangled and netted, had two black ribbons holding two pigtails in place on either side of her head. Her hair reached down to the small of her back, curling in some places. She wore a worse-for-wear red shirt, a white cross plain on her chest and a short black shirt. In her hands, she held only a small pack, full of keepsakes she couldn't bear to part with. A diamond necklace she had received on her twelfth birthday, a small music box and a diary.

                                          She had not even thought of packing food, and she was now thinking that it had been a dire mistake,she was starving. As she walked, she stumbled, over nothing it seemed. This caused the girl to drift back into her cruel reality, her gleaming eyes lost their glossy quality and she sighed as she stared at the dusty road ahead of her. "Oh!" The girl, called Akako cried out, her light eyes widening in surprise. She caught sight of something over in the farthest distance, a shadow of something. She stopped and grimaced, it could be a mirage. The midday sun was beating down on her hard, and making her head hurt. She had been out in it since early morning, so the possibly could be very likely. Sighing, she began making her way there.

                                          As she walked, Akako suddenly realized that she was approaching the shadow rather quickly, it had seemed so far away to be coming closer so quickly. Frowning, she saw that it was a theme park, abandoned it seemed. The stands were empty and and some were dilapidated. Grimacing, Akako approached one of the stands, only to be greeted by the smell of food coming from somewhere. Her feet seemed to move by themselves, her heavy boots clunking heavily with abandon. Her eyes surveyed the stalls for the source of the mouth watering scent.

                                          She was really hungry, Akako was, her stomach grumbled loudly in protest and anger -- wanting the food. Blinking, she sighed and started to walk around the stands, trying to find where the smell was wafting to her from. She still hadn't found it, but what she did find was that the longer she spent in there, a feeling of uneasy grew within her. The feeling told her to run away, leave the place and keep going in her journey to where ever life would take her. After she had run away from home, Akako didn't have too many options right then. Her stomach growled again, it sounded like it was eating itself. She had to give in to her hunger, she wasn't sure how much longer she could survive without food or water.

                                          Akako wandered around a bit more, boots clunking heavily with abandon, until at least she discovered the source of the lovely smell. There were three plate full of food, but it seemed like a banquet to her in her current state. She sat down on a wooden stool that was placed in front of the stall, she took in the food with her eyes before she did with her mouth. She picked up her fork and lower her head to eat.

                                          [[Hm, for some reason, my writing skills are lacking today. It's a bit short, but I can improve tomorrow for sure. =D Sorry about the suckiness. >>;]]






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Eloquent Bibliophile

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» A L I Z A | G A R N E T | F A Y R E «
Pain is , suffering is optional.

iD3NTiFiCATi0N CARD
    × I prefer A l i z a, but if you insist. A l i or L i z a is fine.
    × S i x + T e n
    × No G a m i n g E q u i p m e n t down there.
    × I am the oh-so-abused K a l e y.
    × I like me some S a u s a g e V e n d o r s.
    × Who I like you ask? I like the sensitive blind guy, what's his name? Oh yeah, G a r r e t.

i D0N'T ACT MY AG3
Spazzy Around Guys⇷
Easily Embaressed⇷
Sarcastic⇷
Stoic⇷
Quiet⇷
Loyal⇷
Avoids People⇷
Blushes Around Guys Easily⇷
Easily Flustered⇷
Distrustful⇷
Hates to Pretend⇷
Rude⇷
Brash⇷
Blunt⇷
Clumsy⇷
Slightly Afraid of Men⇷
Self-Loathed⇷

MY LiF3 ST0RY THU5 FAR
My name is Aliza and I have a pretty [********] up life.

Then again, doesn't everyone?

Let me start at the beginning. My name is Aliza, I am sixteen years old and my stepfather abuses me.

Wait, that wasn't the beginning. Let me start over.

I was born to a male and a female deeply in love on the night of October 15th, starry with moonlight shining on me, I was born at exactly 12:01 AM. I grew up a happy child, carefree and silly. I loved my father, he was my best friend and brother to me. Then he died. I'm still not sure how or why, all I know is that he left one day. He told my mother and I the same thing he always did before he left the house to go anywhere. "Farewell my loving family, I will see you all later!" it has always been a promise to us, he would always come back to us, safe and sound and loving like always.

Except this time, his promise was broken.

We found him lying on the street outside our house an hour or two later, his throat sliced open raggedly -- he was lying in a lake of his own blood. It was horrible. I thought my mother would never love again, the way she knelt at his grave for days after he was buried. She cried all the time, even for the smallest things and everything reminded her of my father -- then again, it was the same with me.

Too bad she actually did get married again. To a b*****d of a man no less, my hate for him could cross indefinite seas. At first, he was pleasant, nice, kind and caring. Like he was actually trying to be my father -- or perhaps a father-figure. It didn't last long. He showed his true, ugly colors. He is an alcoholic, and he was druck most of the time. Insulting my hair, my clothes, the way I dressed. I was fine with that, I didn't really care what he thought. He was nothing but an inconsiderate a*****e.

Then, the touching began. He began to sneak into my room and touch me at night, molesting me with his wife -- my mother -- right next door. I couldn't take it anymore, I told my mother. She didn't believe me. So I'm stuck in this hell with no hope of salvation, trying to avoid my sick stepfather and keeping up a sarcastic, cold mask all the while.

Life's a b***h.

THiS G3TS M3 THR0UGH TH3 DAY
a link to your "favorite song"


MY PUPP3T33R
TRAGiC DiViNiTY
ZOMBiiFiCATiON's avatar

Eloquent Bibliophile

User Image
» A L I Z A | G A R N E T | F A Y R E «
Pain is Inevitable, Suffering is Optional.

iD3NTiFiCATi0N CARD
    × I prefer A l i z a, but if you insist. A l i or L i z a is fine.
    × S i x + T e n
    × No G a m i n g E q u i p m e n t down there.
    × I am the oh-so-abused K a l e y.
    × I like me some S a u s a g e V e n d o r s.
    × Who I like you ask? I like the sensitive blind guy, what's his name? Oh yeah, G a r r e t.

i D0N'T ACT MY AG3
Spazzy Around Guys⇷
Easily Embaressed⇷
Sarcastic⇷
Stoic⇷
Quiet⇷
Loyal⇷
Avoids People⇷
Blushes Around Guys Easily⇷
Easily Flustered⇷
Distrustful⇷
Hates to Pretend⇷
Rude⇷
Brash⇷
Blunt⇷
Clumsy⇷
Slightly Afraid of Men⇷
Self-Loathed⇷

MY LiF3 ST0RY THU5 FAR
My name is Aliza and I have a pretty [********] up life.

Then again, doesn't everyone?

Let me start at the beginning. My name is Aliza, I am sixteen years old and my stepfather abuses me.

Wait, that wasn't the beginning. Let me start over.

I was born to a male and a female deeply in love on the night of October 15th, starry with moonlight shining on me, I was born at exactly 12:01 AM. I grew up a happy child, carefree and silly. I loved my father, he was my best friend and brother to me. Then he died. I'm still not sure how or why, all I know is that he left one day. He told my mother and I the same thing he always did before he left the house to go anywhere. "Farewell my loving family, I will see you all later!" it has always been a promise to us, he would always come back to us, safe and sound and loving like always.

Except this time, his promise was broken.

We found him lying on the street outside our house an hour or two later, his throat sliced open raggedly -- he was lying in a lake of his own blood. It was horrible. I thought my mother would never love again, the way she knelt at his grave for days after he was buried. She cried all the time, even for the smallest things and everything reminded her of my father -- then again, it was the same with me.

Too bad she actually did get married again. To a b*****d of a man no less, my hate for him could cross indefinite seas. At first, he was pleasant, nice, kind and caring. Like he was actually trying to be my father -- or perhaps a father-figure. It didn't last long. He showed his true, ugly colors. He is an alcoholic, and he was druck most of the time. Insulting my hair, my clothes, the way I dressed. I was fine with that, I didn't really care what he thought. He was nothing but an inconsiderate a*****e.

Then, the touching began. He began to sneak into my room and touch me at night, molesting me with his wife -- my mother -- right next door. I couldn't take it anymore, I told my mother. She didn't believe me. So I'm stuck in this hell with no hope of salvation, trying to avoid my sick stepfather and keeping up a sarcastic, cold mask all the while.

Life's a b***h.

THiS G3TS M3 THR0UGH TH3 DAY
So Cold~Breaking Benjamin


MY PUPP3T33R
TRAGiC DiViNiTY
ZOMBiiFiCATiON's avatar

Eloquent Bibliophile

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You don't s;a;y much of (anything)
When >>questioned<< of your w h e r e a b o u t s
And I just can't s.e.e through the || evidence ||
It's {{ E V I D E N T }}
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    User Image
ZOMBiiFiCATiON's avatar

Eloquent Bibliophile

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════════════════════════════════════
You don't s;a;y much of (anything)
When >>questioned<< of your w h e r e a b o u t s
And I just can't s.e.e through the || evidence ||
It's {{ E V I D E N T }}
════════════════════════════════════




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                                          The streets were crowded, despite the fact that it was past midnight. The type of people that littered the roads were not the type that you'd want to mess with, heavy burly men that could easily knock you out with a slap or perhaps do something worse if you were not careful. Women in spike heels that seemed to be at least seven inches tall, or maybe in equally spiky boots in bright colors. Their clothes barely covering their bodies, cleavage and leg showing more than the socially-acceptable limit. They cried out in coaxing voices to the men, both walking and in cars, and occasionally, the cars stopped. The women leaned in, the man and woman spoke, and the women, more often than not, got into the backseat to another place. If the men were walking, they were walk arm-in-arm or sometimes, hand-in-hand. The night was muggy, not hot exactly, but humid -- as if all the moisture from the surrounding people had collected in the air.

                                          And among it all, there was a young girl looking completely lost yet so determined.

                                          Barely brushing the age of young age seventeen, wearing a black dress that seemed to be so conservative among the company, it reached to her knees and had elbow length gossamer sleeves, she had black boots with a small, thick heel that had buckles running up the front, they reached the middle of her thin legs that were covered by thick, black tights. Ancelin had nothing with her but a purse, in it lay a lonely fifteen dollars, a stick of eyeliner and a tube of mascara, nothing that was essential to her survival. She tried to move past the crowds without touching anybody too much, but she still managed to bump elbows with a tall man or hit shoulders with one of the women, always muttering apologies, the girl made her way through the streets into the night. More than once, she felt a hand trying to touch her, but she always made an escape, walking faster than she had been doing before. And also, people tried to grab her purse, which she promptly yanked out of their grasp. Looking back, she wished she would have grabbed something else than just her purse, maybe a change of clothes, or something. But she had been so intent on leaving the house before her father got a hold of her, that she just jumped out of the window with what she had on hand -- her purse and only that.

                                          Now, she didn't really regret it as much as stating a simple fact. She felt the threads of fear twining around her, fueling her with adrenaline, making her faster and stronger -- she just wanted to get to the train station. She believed that once she took a train and left this horrid place, she would be scot-free. She was planning to leave with her aunt from her mother's side -- always being kind to Ancelin, she decided that it was the best place. But first she had to remember where she lived, so until then, she would go anywhere. She wasn't picky, as long as she left her home behind. "Hey sweets," Ancelin froze, that had been the first time someone had actually spoken to her instead of grabbed at her. Turning, she came face to face with a handsome man, he seemed to be barely twenty or twenty one. He had dark hair and equally dark eyes, or perhaps it was the lack of light. Either way, Ancelin just wanted to run, she knew what he wanted. "Y-yes?" she barely spoke above than a whisper, the fear was stronger now as she stared into the man's eyes. "You offering your services today?" Ancelin froze, she knew it. She glared at the man, as handsome as he was, he was after prostitutes. "I am not a prostitute," her voice was icy, threaded with fear.

                                          The young man left after that, hurriedly it seemed to Ancelin. Sighing, she ran a slender hand through her hair, the curls reforming after her fingers parted them. And her stick-straight bangs, soft and fluffy as the rest of her hair. She made sure that the rose clipped to her hair was in place, a bright blue flower that seemed to be the same shade as her eyes, though maybe her eyes were a bit more gray than blue. She began to push through the crowd once more, offering apologies every once in a while. Until she finally saw the entryway to the subway -- the train was leaving soon, she could hear a distinct announcement as she went up to the ticket counter and leaned on the counter, a woman was there. She seemed surprised to take in Ancelin's flushed and tired appearance, she seemed hesitant to ask her what she wanted. "A ticket, a ticket to anywhere," Ancelin breathed, out of breath from her struggle to get there. The woman gave her an odd look and gave her a random ticket as Ancelin gave her the money her hands were slightly trembling, she hoped that no one else would wander into the station -- there seemed to be no one else there besides her -- and she was glad for that little fact.

                                          Ancelin boarded the train, looking at her ticket as she sat, her purse in her lap. Her eyes locked onto the outside of the train, she was the only passenger aboard -- she was thankful for that. Or she was. Two people, men it seemed, boarded the train. One made his way to a seat by hers, he seemed to be giving off malicious waves, Ancelin shivered as chills kept running up and down her back. She felt the atmosphere definitely become tense, Ancelin leaned over a bit to see the other man. Clad in a sleeveless trench coat and a shirt underneath that seemed to have mesh sleeves. It seemed that his hood was up, obscuring his face and head from her. Grimacing, she looked out the window again, she knew that something was going on between the two men -- they had the distinct presence of someone trying to pick a fight, she had felt the some thing so many times before between her parents. Shuddering and trembling once more, she couldn’t stop thinking that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.





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                                          It was packed. Packed tighter than a can of sardines tonight, and for once, Aleera was glad that she worked behind the counter of the bar. She had been working at The Bronze for two months now, and she loved it. Her boss was nice, which is a rarity among the world of bosses out there, he let her leave a few hours early so she could get a few hours of sleep before going off to college. She had just turned nineteen and it was her first year in college, she had obtained a partial scholarship — but partial meant that she still had to pay, and she had no money. That's the way Aleera became the bartender at the nightclub, at first she had been overwhelmed. Turns out a lot of people visited The Bronze, and being so inexperienced, she had dropped more glasses than her paycheck could cover in her haste to serve drinks. Her boss didn't get mad, merely told her that it was alright — but she was going to have to clean up the shards. Of course, Aleera didn't mind, it had seemed like a small price to pay, and she was grateful the cost hadn't been pulled from her paycheck. After a few weeks, she had gotten the hang of it, and had loosened up a bit as well. Beginning to wear sleek dresses and leaving her long black hair down, pulling the white streaked parts away from her face so she could see. Aleera also found she liked to talk to the customers, though she was a shy one during school, she found that it was better to shed it at the club. The people that went there usually had one purpose and one purpose only — to find a date. Whether for a long time relationship or a one-night stand, it was always the same. Guys were the ones that drank a couple of shots so it the alcohol would loosen them up a bit and make it easier to talk to the girl they wanted — and it seemed to make the rejection easier to take as well.

                                          Then, there were the guys with the grabby hands.

                                          Those guys pissed Aleera off. It wasn't like they were solely focused on her a** — well, some were, but still. She had administered a well-deserved slap to more than one pervert's cheek whenever they messed with a girl or herself. And she made sure that no drinks were served as punishment. Her boss never said anything against her discipline, so she guessed it was alright to keep doing it. Guys like that seemed to favor nights like this one, with thick crowds — less obvious to see who had actually done the grabbing, so Aleera kept an eye out. Sure enough, she heard an outraged cry coming from a girl somewhere in the crowd and a slap. It was a hard slap, since it could be heard above the loud, pounding music. That was another thing Aleera absolutely loved about the club — the music was excellent, mostly hard rock, some alternative and a little bit of pop. Though the pop she could have done without, it was enjoyable nonetheless. Sighing, Aleera leaned against the polished counter and watched the people dance — how people could still manage to dance in the throng was beyond her, yet they seemed to enjoy the rocking movement and heavy beats. She watched the couples sway seductively and the group of girls check out the "hotties" and point and giggle. Eying each of them, she wondered which would leave with a guy tonight, and become a one-night stand, even though they had wished for something more.

                                          Which is exactly why Aleera stayed away from guys, they broke your heart too easy.

                                          "Hey! Bartender! Hello?" a hand came into view and waved in front of Aleera's face, she realized that she had been rudely zoning out. "Hm? Oh, sorry. What can I get you?" she waited for the young man's response. He was cute, Aleera gave him that. High cheekbones pulled taut against pale skin, gray eyes and hair that was the color of red rust — they looked like strands of shiny silk under the pulsing strobe lights of the club. "Yeah, can I get an extra bloody Bloody Mary?" his voice wasn't soft, nor was it particularly harsh — mild, Aleera's brain informed her, but pleasant. Nodding, she fixed the drink quick, adding a squirt from a aluminum container that her boss had given her, giving her instructions that it was only to be added in "extra bloody Bloody Marys." Aleera assumed it was heavier alcohol that was usually put into Bloody Marys. The young man ran a hand through his hair and leaned on the counter in the same manner that she had moments before. "Here you go!" Aleera cried, handing him the drink accompanied by a bright smiles. "Thanks luv," he responded with his own dazzling smile that left Aleera stunned for a moment. By the time she came to her senses, he was gone. There was always those type of guys hanging around the bar, with their good looks and sweet smiles. 'Merely a trap' Aleera thought, shaking her head and grabbing a rag to wipe down the wood. Don't be fooled, Aleera' she sighed heavily.

                                          It went on for a while like that, guys coming to ask for drinks. Either by themselves, or accompanied by a girl. Each time, she gave them their drink with a smile — a job requirement. A few hours passed, and Aleera was getting tired. So were the teens hanging around there, most of them had already left. There were still a few people littering the dance floor, but it was definitely less of a sardine can and more like an ocean now. The air was tinged with the aromas of sweat mingled with men's cologne and women's perfume — residue left over. Sighing, Aleera walked over to the door and stepped out of the confines of the counter, she stepped out into the middle of the dance floor and looked up at the strobe lights, her version of a break. She loved this time too, where the people cleared out and she was free for a bit. Only for a bit, she reminded herself as someone tapped her on the shoulder, telling her they wanted a drink. So she made her way back to the counter, and served them. "Aleera? Someone wants to dance with you," her bosses' voice knocked her out of her tired thoughts. "Dance? With me?" Aleera asked, confused. Her bosses nodded his balding head and motioned to the dance floor. Shrugging, she slipped off her apron and began to walk out again.

                                          Who would want to dance with the lonely, bitter bartender?



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                                          The smell was pungent, bitter. It spread, a thick, invisible fog that was impossible to escape. The metallic smell burned the senses, and made the head hurt. Blood. She was too late. a body lay strewn across the concrete ground in the darkness of the alley. Whoever it had been, they had been messy eaters — there was definitely more than one. Puncture wounds covered the neck and arms, the stomach was slashed, revealed innards that were better left unseen. The victim had been a young girl, out clubbing no doubt. Clad in a sparkly, blue tank top and a black mini-skirt, with black pumps. Aleena was too late. The Slayer sighed and ran a hand through her black hair, mussing it up even further than the wind had on her run over. She hated losing people, it made her feel like she wasn't meant to be Chosen — like someone else should have been the Slayer, not her. Not to mention she hated the job, she had been the Environmentalist type, she was protesting against animal testing, she had been a vegetarian for God's sake! And now, she was supposed to kill people to save others. Well, they weren't people exactly, they didn't even have souls, but she still felt guilty and bad every time she re-killed them. It would have been a little bit better if they didn't talk... or scream... or move. But on a night like this, it helped the Slayer to remember why she had to kill them, to save innocents like the teenager sprawled before her — they were more important than any soulless vampires. They weren't nice to her either, no matter how much guilt she felt after dusting them, all they did was hit her and punch her and bruise her. None of it made Aleena very forgiving while she was fighting them, but nonetheless, after every battle, she felt the relentless guilt gnawing at her soul.

                                          All this Slayer business was going to kill her one day.

                                          Sighing, Aleena started to make her way back up the alley. She didn't want to be stuck here when the cops came, they would think she did the crime obviously. Besides, she needed to find the vampires that killed the girl — she wasn't going to let scum like that go free. Lights nearby flashed a warning, red and blue decorated the street, that was when Aleena decided it was a good time to run. So she ran, her feet thumping across the pavement at a steady rhythm, right foot, left foot. She already knew where the vampires were, but it was quite a ways away. The Slayer mentally cursed her mother for not buying her a car, she cursed her ideals too — exhaust fumes weren't the greatest thing for the environment, so naturally, she was against it completely. At the time anyway. Pausing mid-step, she looked around. She found herself in the park, the vampires were near now. Probably in another dark alley, trying to kill another girl and it was up to her to stop them. "Excuse me?" a man's voice brought her attention back to reality and out of her ominous thoughts. Her already big, blue eyes widened even more. A vampire stood there, tapping his foot impatiently and studying his nails. "Hey, can we do this already?" it was like he was begging to get dusted. Gulping, Aleena got into her fighting stance. "Are you one of the ******** that killed that girl over there?" Aleena had always been a bit of a dirty-mouth. The vampire nodded smugly, his face contorting into a blood-chilling smile — if it could even be called that. "Yes I was, she was delicious by the way. You know, I'm going to enjoy eating you too," the Slayer blood in Aleena boiled in response. Her hands went to her waist where small vials of holy water were stored. "Enjoy this," with one hand she threw a vial, it hit the vampire where she meant it to — in the face. The vampire let out a shrill screech and clawed at it's already ugly face. With her other hand, Aleena brought out a wooden stake and stuck it in it's chest, turning it into a pile of dust.It had been too easy for her tastes, she wasn't even the slightest winded. The it came to her like a sudden slap in the face. It hurt just like it too.

                                          He was sent as a distraction to delay her.

                                          "Goddammit! You'd think it was my first night being the Slayer!" Aleena mumbled as she began to run again, she ended up in the warehouse district. Rolling her eyes, she decided that the vampires were definitely predictable. Alleys, warehouse districts, abandoned buildings — it was all so dreary. They needed some new material, maybe... the park in the middle of the day. Aleena giggled to herself as she walked, the sun would do her work for her. It wouldn't ever happen, but hey, a Slayer could dream. She approached an alley to her left and crossed her arms. "Knock, knock!" she shouted, a girl somewhere in the dark screamed and she could here the hissing of vampires. She had definitely knocked on the right door. Walking into the dark, she could see the bastards, and the girl between them too. She was no older than the other one they had killed, and now that she could see the number of the vampires, she felt a tinge of fear. There had to be at least twenty — it was no wonder they mutilated the girl so badly. "You thinking of fighting us, Slayer? Aleena chuckled, shaking her head and sending her black hair flying. "I'm not thinking, I'm doing!" she ended the sentence with a punch to the nearest vampire, he went down and they pounced on her at once. Aleena felt like a football player who was carrying the ball and had been tackled behind the line. With a grunt, she pushed them off, causing a few to go flying. Aleena noticed vaguely that the girl was gone, she had long ago run off and she was thankful for it — it would be just one more thing to deal with that at the moment, she couldn't. 'Punch, kick, stake! Punch, kick, stake! there was a pattern to her dusting, and she ran it through his head. 'Punch, kick, stake! Punch, kick, kick, stake! Punch, kick, oh no! she herself received a kick that sent her into the brick wall behind her, winding her. And for the first time since becoming the Slayer...

                                          Aleena was greatly outnumbered, and in trouble.




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Eloquent Bibliophile

|| Alamit Damalis Sumnor ||

What's my alias? ... The Cheshire Cat

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Flirt ; Confusing ; Independent

                |x| You can call me ... Alamit is fine. The White Rabbit calls me Kit-Kit.
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