Welcome to Gaia! ::

The scent on the air was that of the damp comforting and distinctive scent of rain, combined with the crispness of autumn. Leaves skittered in a playful dance across the ground, guided only by the whims of the chilly, western winds, which ruffled the long chestnut hair a petit ordinary girl, staring at the vast sky passively. Blue-green eyes blinked the dryness away before leveling her head to gaze round herself. Empty. Only the tall majestic trees stood about her, some evergreen, some with leaves the colors of a dragon’s fire and treasure. Yet even in such stillness, she, and only she, heard many voices. The voices of the wind, water, earth and sky, of beings that danced unseen on the currents of the wind, of trees with ancient stories forgotten long, long ago; her gift, one given to her, only God knows when, in her meager existence of eighteen years. This gift, the ability to understand any tongue uttered, no matter what mouth spoke or how long ago forgotten the language was, she’d hear and understand, and be able to speak back in kind, a gift that had served her well and allied her with many. Spirits of nature answered her call when danger neared, placing themselves at her command, her comrades, in battle, and her friends.

Her hair danced in several ways in a wind unfelt and unseen, swirling only around her, as she stood frozen to the spot. Sprite’s, the tiny invisible being of the wind loved her long limp strands of red-brown and hid amongst them often, if only to play with it. Such little strange companions were not unordinary for her, she whose pockets were so often filled with little creatures, of our world and others, who sought her out to tell her their stories. She heard every one of them, and took the stories to paper, keeping them together in note-books. Several volumes of such tales lined her shelves already, and still she loved to hear them, no matter how close one was to the next. It was not so much the words they spoke but the voices, which could hold the youth’s attention for such lengthy amounts of time. Such enchanting voices they held, it seemed a shame these creatures with such amazing voices, are held in mind as being so ordinary, that in our daily lives we let them slip by us, ignored, or brushed off as a nuisance.

The youth brushed her ever-moving hair out of her contemplating face, tucking it behind her ear, and reveling for one of her companions a new toy, her earring; a grand oriental dragon carved out of bone. She loved dragons, for as long as she could remember she had been in awe, spell bound by their grace and raw power, legends that held power even in this ever changing world, which so quickly rejected these wonders she had been gifted to see and understand. Sadly, she had never had the honor of conversing with a dragon, but still held hope she may yet, be privileged enough to hear the voice and story of one of those famed creatures that held a prominent place in stories across the globe.

The sun was sending out over the land its last rays of glorious blinding light, saying. ‘Farwell, the nights keep you well till my return at dawn’ these words, so clearly set in its blazing red voice, went not unheard by the youth, more unheeded. She remained still leaning eagerly towards the grand old oak, its creaking old voice telling her such a long a magnificent narrative, the story of its existence, starting from an acorn shed from an oak many miles away, and carried to this place by a squirrel that buried it and forgot it, all the way up to now, where it stood magnificent and undaunted by its vast years. It grew ever more beautiful as it went on and on through years and seasons. Oh there was an end, an inevitable failing, when at last it would die, its spirit to flee from the decaying trunk up into the clouds to stand ever tall and even more glorious in its prepared place among the streets of gold, leaving behind its grey empty shell to be used, as humans often use trees for, to fuel the short life of the crackling fire.
‘It’s not as horrible as it sounds.’ creaked the oak at her sadness to this comment. ‘After all,’ it chuckled, ‘does not your kind bury its dead in a similar way hmmm?’
A smile graced the lips of the youth echoing the smile of the oaks, though unseen, she heard it in that wonderful slow creaking voice, dusted grey like it bark, and green like its leaves in spring, and brown in the fall. Full like its branches in the growing season, and barren as its crown in the cold. It struck her, the amazing quality of one trees voice. It spoke a story, even without saying words; its story was in its voice, if one only cared to listen.

--- (c) Chaos Dragon 13 2007

It wasn’t late. Only about seven at night, but the streets were already dark, and a fog hung over the city blurring out the tops of the buildings that scrapped against the surface of the sky, turning the headlights of the cars humming up the one way street into candle points. She stepped out of the light from the building to the curb, leaning around the car parked at her left to watch for a break in the traffic. She hesitated briefly unsure but seeing a few other cross she also went, passing a couple girls on her way.

“Hey Mia.” One greeted. She nodded but didn’t pause in her sprint to the other side. Her gait slowed to a power walk when the soles of her converse hit the sidewalk. She walked a little ways up the slightly inclined hill to the glass door, a quick flash of a card and the door clicked open. Steadily, with the same edgy gait, the girl nodded to the security guard as she yanked open the door to stairwell, letting the door slam behind her as she took the steps two, sometimes three, at a time. She always took the stairs, the building and the elevator, quite frankly, scared her. Besides the stairs were just faster, and the two flights up to her room on the third floor weren’t that troublesome.

She swung around the last flight to her floor not slowing as she passed the community bathroom, filling her lungs with warm humid air thick with the flora scent of shampoo, going down to the very end of the hall. She halted at the last door on the right, a plain commercial door with a gimpy handle. She didn’t even bother going for her key, just pushed the handle down the millimeter it went bumping the heavy door open with her hip.
The room was rather large holding four desks, four armoires, and two bunk beds, and still plenty of space for the four girls living there to maneuver without tripping over one another. There were only two others in the room; neither gave her much acknowledgment as she walked into the cold room. One, with thick hair forming near perfect curls all tied back at the nape of her neck looked up briefly before her eyes returned to the screen of her lap top, occupied by a movie. Didn’t surprise her much, it was probably something for school since it was back and white, and the ashen-brunette looked bored, almost ready to go to sleep.

The other girl cast a brief glance over her shoulder and looked back at her screen. Mia paid just about as much attention to her as she walked diagonally to her desk dropping her bag to the floor when she reached the cluttered area. She didn’t stay put long; the groaning pain in her belly that had started since she left the Café had gotten worse. She had loved her pizza that had been dinner, finally settling a craving is always a pleasant thing. However the stress she had been feeling along with the quickened speed she had eaten and left had taken a turn, twisting her stomach round to a dull ache of nausea. She turned to the door again and left shrugging further into the canvas of her camouflage coat. The room and hall alike were freezing. She could have sworn the whole place was just a penguin or two shy of the Antarctic!

She didn’t race down the hall, didn’t even power walk parse, merely stretched the length of her long limbs to their fullest potential, making the trip in a little under fourteen steps.
There were others in the room, but she didn’t take notice as she washed her hands. She couldn’t even say she could remember what they looked like. As long as they made no direct impact on her life, she would not trouble herself with them. It seemed a little stuck up, but her world was a convoluted place as it was, fringing on the edges of what people understood as reality, and what people understood as fantasy. Her life, for all intents and purposes, was a story book. Just standing in there she could feel the throb of movement from something outside the physical realm. She paid it no regard, knowing what it was.

Finishing, she moved on, not stopping to look in the mirror. She knew what she’d find. Her red hair making a half hearted attempt to curl from the moisture hanging in the air, frizzing along one side of her temple as well. Her skin wasn’t clear either, marked with the curse of adolescence along her hair line. Her eyes would be tired, the black eyeliner she wore smeared making her eyes look even more sunken. It had been a long day, and though tomorrow was the beginning of the weekend, the trip to her friends would take another chunk out of the day.
Once more entering the room she was greeted with even less of a response from her two roommates. It was fine; she went to her desk sinking into the chair. Her laptop began to rouse the moment she pulled the top open the keys of the keyboard lighting up and it’s gentle whirring joining the other two. Within a moment of her signing on she was faithfully greeted by her best friend, a petit blond girl living an hour drive from her current location.

A few moments passed and the fourth member of the room came in, there was a brief conversation and soon the room emptied down to her. She felt a little bitter that none of them had bothered to ask her if she’d like to join them, but it was a short lived feeling. When the room stilled of physical movement, she became aware of him again.

From the subtlety of his movements, more like the total absence of his movements, she could guess that he had already climbed into bed. She didn’t blame him, this city was insane, and he refused to leave her side. No matter how many time she told him she’d be fine, she’d be on the bus with a bunch of people, and then in class, he still came. She was admittedly grateful for it. The constant awareness of his presence pressing against the back of her mind made her feel a little better, and he was always there to tell her she’d be fine, that she could do this, was something she had become dependent on.

They’d been with each other so long, it had become a mutual existence, one never long without the other; she couldn’t bear not to have him near for more than an hour. He often returned in ragged state. He’d almost died several times during his mysterious absences; she had a right to worry. Besides, they’d made a promise, a promise that they’d always be there for one another. It was a bit of a pointless thing to promise seeing as their lives depended on the others.

In the beginning it had been that if one’s heart stopped the others would forget momentarily how to beat and then beat twice as fast to make up for the loss of the others. Now, if one stopped the other would, within the same breath of the first. They were eternally bond together. The thread that they had originally created had multiplied tangling them further together, and becoming chains. There was no longer any way to sever their bond. Any attempt would likely result in death.

She lay her head down in her arms closing her eyes, just listening to the vague sound of his breathing. She focused her attention on it, and after a moment she realized each measured breath of his matched her own. Had she gone to sleep? She opened her eyes staring out the window whose surface had taken on a mirror quality in the darkness. She was awake, but her breath still matched his. The corners of her lips curled up in a soft smile. Sitting back she curled a hand over her heart feeling the pulse, knowing if she focused hard enough she would feel the faint echo of his heart.

[Huzzah for random babble from last year XD]

Like what?

Acara Chronicals, been working on that one actually. Black Thorn is on hiadus for a while, and I have NO clue about the last.

It had gotten very quiet, just the sound of rain outside the widow I’d been staring out of for the past hour. It was a little past midnight and no matter how I tried I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the weather that bothered me. I was use to the dreary weather, maybe not quite as spectacular as this thunderstorm, but growing up in San Francisco rain didn’t really bother me, though it didn’t do much to improve my brooding mood.
It had been two very long months since the accident and I still found it hard to comprehend that she was gone. I’d heard stories about people going out for a carton of milk and never coming back, but not like this. It was all a blur after the police had shown up at our door. Social workers, lawyers and suddenly a plane to a town I had never heard of, to live with a man I only knew from what felt like ghost stories from my father’s side of the family. I might have felt a little better about all of it if they had found my father; at least I had known him, for a time. But he had up and disappeared more than six years ago. I guess two kids, and twenty years of marriage isn’t that big of a deal to throw aside for something shiny and new. So instead my eight-year-old brother and I had been sent to our father’s father. One Dimitri Bard of the no-where-town of Acara.

Sighing I finally conceded to laying down, staring into the darkness of the room stacked full of cardboard boxes labeled various things, like ‘Emmalie’s Clothes’ ‘Emmalie’s Books’ and so on . I found it kind of odd to have my name plastered all over the place like that. My family had moved once or twice when I was a kid, I remember standing in the new living room surrounded by stacks of boxes. It was like a hedge maze of cardboard throughout the whole house, as a kid it was the best thing ever! All the games I could play, all the fortress’ I could build with all those boxes? I wished I felt like that now, or if not me, at least my brother. But neither of us felt that way. I felt cornered, boxed in, if you pardon the pun. And little brother?

The door to my new room creaked open a little. “Emmalie?”

I sat up blinking at the shadowy figure at the door. “Nate? What’s wrong?” I asked, as the little guy came into the room. There was a bit of a struggle for a bit as he tried to scale the tall bed before I hauled him up by the back of his footie PJ’s.

“The room is too big.” He said softly snuggling his well worn teddy tighter. “Can I sleep with you?” He asked. I couldn’t see his eyes but I knew the tone of voice, the trembling pleading voice of a child who was truly freaked. I didn’t blame him; a strange place makes it hard to sleep already. But a strange space twice the size of the one you’re used to, filled only with boxes makes for a creepy situation for an eight year old.

“Sure Buddy.” I smiled and scooted over a little holding the covers up for him to crawl in. He snuggled up to me. This was the reason I had chosen to come here. Given the odd circumstances of the situation, as in not knowing this man at all, I had the choice of foster care. But foster care couldn’t guarantee me that I’d stay with my little brother. I crinkled my nose absently. Two years. That’s all we had to stay here. Once I was eighteen I could claim custody of him and get us out of this creepy manor.

I went to tell him this, only to find him already sleeping. I wasn’t really surprised. It had been a long day, and I knew he was tired. All he had need was a little extra bit of a security blanket. I smiled kissing the tip of my finger and tapping it to his nose. “Sleep tight buddy.” I said with a sigh and settled down.
Maybe I need someone to hold me too, because it only took me a moment to fall asleep after that.

[[8D Yay. Probably not to much though 'cause I am looking to get this puplished when it's done and publishers aren't big on the web posting XD;;]]

Okay, so it didn't take as long to get to the critique as I had thought. I should have been doing homework, but instead did this. It's okay, I have a late start tomorrow, I can do it in the morning if I need to. So anyways, I'm printed it out and then commented the crap out of it, so I'm scanning those papers in right now so you can look at them. I just have a few comments that involves the whole thing, not just pieces, so I'm putting them in this little post-thing. smile

First off, can I just say how incredibly epic your charaization skills are? Honestly, there are amazing! How clear Emmalie's voice is and how much I'm getting a sense of her personality just in this little scene, it's leaving me speechless! This is not the easiest thing to do. The other story I'm editing and critiquing, there are so many chances for her to use charaization and she doesn't and because of it I really am not getting a sense of her character. I don't know how many times I've begged her to use more charaization! But you don't have that problem in the least bit, it is amazing! Keep up the great, wonder, perfect! work!

Second; short sentences. You don't have a great deal of them, but you have enough. There's just awkward, and sound weird and incomplete. If it was just one or maybe even two, I would just make a little note and leave it at that, but I'm pretty sure you had a least three. I know that doesn't seem like a lot, but short sentences are just so annoying! I think I even made a comment about how they were bugging me. Some places I saw why you made it a short sentence, but I still think you kind of need to rewrite the sentences, trust, without the short sentence, it will just sound better. BUT WAIT!!!! Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, go eliminating every short sentence you see. There were some short sentences there on purpose for dramatic effect and I beg, pray, that you won't mess with them because they really did sound quite cool. It's just the ones that were just short, without any dramatic effect that bugged me, so freaking much.

Next, the expression, 'a little'. I think almost every time you wrote that, I put a comment. I just want to point out that I think I'm the only person who has a problem with this expression. I think it sounds illiterate and... I don't want to say dumb- but dumb. I don't know, I just think it sounds weird and disgusting, but I also think I'm the only one who believes this.

I actually just thought of this, but in the box scene (which by the way is amazing and which I love so totally and completely) if you romanticized it little more, we would also sympathize with Emmalie and Nate more. But I'm also reluctant to say this because this scene is awesome and I don't want you messing with it and accidently ruining it, but if you can do this, it would just be that much more amazing and wonderful and I would probably die.

Ummm.... Be careful of repetitive sentence. I think you had very little, but they were very noticeable too. I think at the beginning I put something about sentence variety, which you really don't have a problem with, it was just that the first three sentences all began with 'it' but I hardly caught that. If you can't make it work, that don't brother changing it, it really didn't take away at all.

Can I also compliment you on your word usage? You came up with words that just their presence in a sentence made that sentence, or made the sentence even more amazing. I love it. You know what word to use when, which is a really impressive skill to have.

I love the how much of a sense I'm getting of Emmalie's and Nate's relationship. It's really good. Which goes back to the charaization comment I made earlier.

Hmm... I think the last thing is that the really big comment on the last page says "This sentence is so incredibly awesome, but I think if you put the 'after that' in the other place, it would be even cooler'. That, and if you can't read anything, ask me and I'll tell ya.

Oh, wait. I'm a lair, that's not the last thing. The last thing is...

YOU'RE SO FREAKIN' AMAZING!!!!

Here are the pages

biggrin I always have something to say when it comes to writing. I forgot to add just one thing. Everything I just said, only insignificant little suggestions. Nothing I just said matters, the only that will ever matter is how you feel about it.