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- 09/07/2008 9:37 am
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- 10/08/2006
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- Harte (Yes I know you've never heard of it)
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I have to say that I am currently pretty obsessed with Nanne Grönvall, a very talented Swedish singer-songwriter. I am shamelessly addicted to her music, especially her songs "Om du Var Min" and "Hall Om Mig". <3 Go check her out!On more music related things, I have gotten extremely involved in musical theatre. I recently went up to New York and saw both "Wicked" and "Spamalot". I adored both of them immensely. However, my favorite musical is still Pippin, which I am "ZOMG IN LOVE" with. Don't ask. I don't know either.
Suffer in Silence
-A Novel-
-A Novel-
This is never what Snow Skirbin had accounted on. She had never wanted to be outside of her cabin and standing in front of this new one. The cabin was odd and looking nearly abandoned. It was nothing like the cabin she grew up in. It looked as though it hadn't been maintained in years, with weeds slowly taking over the outside. Not to mention that the whole thing looked lopsided.
She hated this. Snow hated this cabin, she hated being here today, and she hated knocking on the door of the cabin, waiting for someone to respond. She was standing there for a few minutes; that could have very well been hours as far as Snow was concerned. The day was cloudy and a tad dreary, making the wait all that more agitating.
Of course, she didn't turn away. She had a strong feeling that someone was home. So she stood there, persistent as ever. And she was right to do so. It took ages before the doorknob began to turn and a young face peeked out from out the door, "Who are you?" a voice of a young man barked.
"My name is Snow Skirbin," the girl squeaked, suddenly wishing she had turned around a long time ago. He voice was higher than normal, as though she had sucked some helium in order to relieve the tension, "Are you Jack Grieves?"
"No, I'm his twin brother John," the boy retorted bitterly, throwing back the door to reveal his whole body, "Of course I'm Jack you t**t!" he said, with a voice tougher and sharper than nails. However, Snow would much rather be in the company of a bucket of nails instead of this boy, "Now come on in and tell me what you want," he said, ushering her in.
He sounds like a grumpy old man. Snow decided as she walked into the small cottage with a blink. The door opened to a sort of living area that was twice as trashed as the outside. There were pieces of paper laying everywhere, jars lounging about haplessly, some with odd substances and some without. There were suitcases filled with tools and gloves and blue dust. There were bones and shattered glass thrown haphazardly about the room. Snow was repulsed by all of it. She had to remind herself why she was here.
"I…" she started, clearing her throat, her entire body shaking, "I need your help. I am in a predicament where I need the assistance of a famous hunter, like you," she added the last part in hopes of appealing to a more vain side that most humans seemed to have.
Jack nodded and threw off a collection of jars and papers off of a table and two chairs, "My help? Is that so?" he asked with a small smirk, obviously pleased by the thought of someone being willing to trounce to his dump of a house to plead with him, "Please, Miss…Skirbin, was it? Please have a seat and I'll fix you some tea. We'll talk then," he said, suddenly much more relaxed and casual.
The strange boy disappeared into a neighboring room. Snow peered in after him, seeing a large room covered in filing cabinets and paper files scattered and piled all around. There could have easily been a good two hundred files in there. However, what was most curious about the room was that there was a bathtub in the middle of the supposed kitchen, with a giant beanstalk growing out of it; so large it looked as though it could easily break through the roof of the kitchen.
In just a few minutes, Jack had returned with two mismatched teacups and a teapot. Snow straightened out the nonexistent wrinkles in her long modest dress and smiled kindly as he set a teacup in front of Snow, insisting she pour her own tea.
"No sugar or milk," Jack said, lounging back in his chair, "Sorry, I must have ran out," he sighed, looking up at the ceiling, "Let's do a quick introduction. You obviously heard about me, so we'll skip that part. Your name is Snow, right?" he asked as he leaned forward and poured himself a cup of tea, "Why are you here?"
"I need your help," she repeated stupidly, feeling as though she should have brought some sort of script to help her not forget what she wanted to say. She just got so tongue-tied when talking to strangers, especially when it was something as important as this. But she knew she couldn't do it alone.
“Right right,” Jack sighed in a hint of exasperation, “And that’s great and all, don’t get me wrong. But it would be really great to know what you need help with. And I only work jobs that interest me. And I don’t look for lost kittens,” he said, leaning forward, putting his elbows on the table.
The boy had dark red hair and bright green eyes, and he couldn’t have been any older than Snow. His clothes were haphazardly thrown together, reds mixing with greens and oranges and purples. It was like he had the fashion sense of a blind circus monkey, if not worse. His hair was a rat’s nest of a mess; contrasting Snow’s perfectly combed hair and pressed matching clothes.
The dark haired girl was a tad surprised with how young he looked in contrast to how old he seemed to act. Not to mention that the boy had an extremely large reputation as a great hunter in her kingdom, “Well,” she tried to continue, wondering how to word things without sounding stupid, “My cousin was sold to the devil. I want you to help me find her, so I can get her back,” she said with a gulp.
Continued
About Miss Lehcar
Alright, it has been a long long time since I updated this. So I believe that I shall put some random things here in order to take up space while I think of something interesting to write:
//Facts about Miss Imo:
-Imo doesn't like to be asked her age. So don't ask it.
-Imo believes that Blue Tooth devices look like mini aliens that attach to the ear and take over the human mind. Kind of like Gaia, without the ear bit.
-You are most likely to find Imo garbling off nonsense in some writing contest forum. She likes to garble.
-Her favorite food is most certainly rice pudding.
-Imo is tall.
-Imo's special talent is boring people to tears. She has also made someone laugh so hard that they threw up. That is her proudest moment.
-Imo hates Adam Sandler movies. A lot.
-She is going down to Duke for writing boot camp in a week.
-She nearly pissed herself in excitement.
Journal
My trove of thoughts
. . .
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Signature
"Oh, I'm sorry. May I have your name Sir?"
"No. It's mine."
It's Imoto Lehcar, duh.
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