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The night enveloped us, making us invisible from the shore. Those who had set us off went back to their merry making and feasting while we dipped our paddles into the cool water. The shore surrounded us, but we were in a different world.
The stars lay between us and the sleeping fish below. We only uttered the smallest of sounds as we conversed about what a fish may dream of. The stars lifted us up, giving us their own course to take. We navigated the Big Dipper, separated the
Gemini Twins, avoided Sagittarius’ arrow…

The only sound that could be heard from our boat was a small gasp as the captain saw time slip from his grasp and sink into the watery depths.

We floated on, disturbing the inky water that swirled around us. Like satin pooled in a glass bowl that we ran our hands through, rejoicing at the marvelous effect it had on our minds. It cleaned away every fear and sorrow, pride and hatred, doubt and guilt, until we were stripped down to pure, untouched souls.

Not a thought of our loved ones on the shore passed through our minds as the midsummer’s eve breeze beckoned us to the cherry trees that grew on the small island in the middle of the lake. Darkness faded before our starlit torches as our arms rose and fell in unison, sliding the paddles in and out of the weightless water.

Upon stepping on the soft sand, our bodies became fevered, our feet dancing wildly. We spun under the stars and spherical moon that rained moonbeams upon our hair. The breeze carried our voices out over the water as the trance of the boat left us. We tasted the finest of the ripest fruit and threw the pits in the water, where they floated before the turtles snapped them up greedily. There we collapsed on the sand, our chests heaving in unison.

As we lay, my thoughts turned to our passenger and how much anger and grief she had caused me earlier, and how she had frustrated the captain. That melted away as I viewed her eyes, starlight flickered within them, igniting a spark that had been dead so long and I had missed for just as long. How could I not enjoy this simple happiness with her?

Shouts from the torch lit shore stirred us from our resting place on the sand. Slowly and reluctantly we climbed into the canoe and pushed away from the island. Once more we stared into the sky as one being with six eyes, and peered into galaxies and nebulae alike. The torchlight lit our faces with a wavering light that was unlike the gentle glow of starlight. Once we stepped upon the dock and tethered our boat, the captain and passenger melded back into the party. Only I was left alone at the railing, looking yearningly out at the midnight touched waters and cherry groves on the water’s hill. The stars that were so vivid and bright faded and for once I wished that was where I was. Alone, and sailing among the stars.


Now that I finished that before the ten minutes was up let me start another…

The rose unfurled in the darkness. I had been coaxing it to life ever since They had come. Their destruction was merciless and now the poor ivory rose had to pay for my mistakes. Glowing embers on the ash coated tree trunks reminded me of them and I lashed out with a loud cry, ice cutting deep into the trees until they crashed to the ground, leaving a clearing around me that the moonlight illuminated.

“Nohealani,” John gripped my shoulder as I sobbed. I curled into him, feeling his fire that stirred within him like his second form. “My little Nohealani Adamaris. You couldn’t of stopped it. I whimpered slightly and pulled away. I could have stopped them…

I was sitting on the highest branch of the oak tree singing to the ravens. They were always such good company, almost as good as the mockingbirds that would sing with me. I hadn’t seen them coming until it was too late. They were looking for me to use me, the Sweiten, and they wouldn’t stop until I was found.

Hope you enjoy!

Thank you!

I'm on a laptop, so i had to stare at the keyboard in lieu of turning the monitor off. I hope that it still counts? '~'
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The mind of the dragon's mad eye flickered in the sun of her dreamscape, warping and twisting in a nonexistant wind.

She looked across the flat plane, grass stretching into the horizon with only a single, massive tree breaking the monotony. The dragon's mad eye twisted again, flucuating in color across the spectrum like a slick of oil upon water. It gleamed, too, all the fire of a thousand diamonds contained in it, burning away the sanity of those who looked upon it, leaving them hollowed husks of what they once were.

All but her and her mad rambles. She stared at the colors and patterns of the dragon's mad eye, drinking in the sightsmells as a gourmet would sample a fine wine. She felt the fire burn within her, and set the flames free upon the dream scape, watching the fire burn away merrily without ever touching the grass and tree; the heat would not touch them, although she felt it burn her a bit. She once again looked at the dragons's mad eye, or at least where it once was. It vanished in the moment between her looking at the blaze and her turning back, leaving behind only questions that would never be answered. Even the fire had fizzled away upon its departure.

She was content with this. She could wait for its return, as she always had. It was of no importance where it had gone; there was only a new enigma to unravel, as such things always were.She inhaled quietly, and got up to amble in the direction of the three-rooted tree that held up the heavens.

It didn't matter that she'd never get there, no matter how fast she ran. The journey was more important, even if only because the mad dragon's eye had never appeared near the sky's pillar. That would never do.

First time writing out a new character. Possibly a bit hackneyed, but eh. Whatever.



There was really nothing that could’ve been more indescribably boring than that of this gathering. Honestly, who even still went to art exhibits? They were all filled with people pretending to be cultured in his mind, and he’d grown up with that.

Sipping at his drink, Jackson frowned. The champagne was miserable. Everything was. The art wasn’t even all that impressive, though he didn’t like modern things. Like people should be rewarded for their lack of talent? Most of then seemed to do work that any child could come up with. It wasn’t brilliance, it was just splotches on paper.

“You’re frowning.”

Turning to look at the person who spoke to him, he sighed. “Lilith, I am not miserable. I am horribly enthused about all that is artistic in this exquisite boutique of a place.”

“Your speech gets stinted when you’re pissed,” she said with a smile.

And really, if he was a lesser man, he would’ve hit her for just that. She had no right to be smug, but as it was, he was certain that someone would make a big huff about him abusing his girlfriend and he couldn’t bear for that to happen tonight.

Smirking right back at her, he cupped the back of her head and gripped at her hair, the pleased look in his eyes never fading as she gasped in shock and probably pain considering how hard he jerked her head back so that he could be certain that she was looking at him.

“Dearheart, I find this entire play at being civilized annoying. These simple minded idiots think they are so great because they came here to discuss all that is magical and artsy, but in reality they are doing nothing but giving fodder to some simple minded hack’s delusions of grandeur and if I wanted to watch a hack at work, I could sit around watching those morons they keep giving reality shows to or a Jennifer Anniston movie.”

When he let go of her, she stared at him with a look that wasn’t quite hatred, but wasn’t quite fear. He’d come to know it as her ‘Jackson worries me’ look and damn it if it didn’t get his blood rushing every time. Taking her glass from her, he sipped at it and smiled.

“Love the music though. Vivaldi’s Summer, I think. Beautiful piece,” he muttered before walking away from her.

He had better places to be and was certain that she wouldn’t be all that upset if he left early anyways. She could always catch a cab home.

Hannah's favorite thing was the kalediscope. Red stained glass with small beads dotting the sodering lead, it didn't end in a case you spun but in a glass ampule filled with oil and beads. She liked to lay upon the boards of her tree house and tilt it up. Red beads danced over the green dappled light. She could lie there for hours turning it, watching the flavor of reality change without effort. It was better than TV she thought, because she could fill the blank spaces in herself. Kind of like coloring outside the lines, only for the mind.

In March her family moved. The new house didn't have a tree big enough for even a ladder and platform. She dug at the flowerbeds. Back home she'd had azalea bushes and Momma's roses to dig through. Here everything was full of cedar chips and bugs. Momma said eventually she'd like it here, but she was sure she wouldn't. She didn't even have enough time to unpack before she went to school. It was the middle of the year, and no one spoke to her. She walked up to the nicest looking girl in school, a girl with a crimson sweater. "I'm Heather," she said.

The other girl looked through her and kept on walking.

When she went home she went to the box with the Kalidescope in it and dug it out of the bottom. Here was her doll with the yellow dress she'd made out of ribbon. Here was the box she and her Home friend had made, with four cicada shells gently pressed into white cotton batting. And here was ... wet. She found the newspaper tube holding the Kalidescope and found oil dripping from one end. Red glass beads and sparkles decorated the bottom of the box. Inside was the red stained glass triangle of mirrors, and the broken pieces of the ampule.

She ran to her mother, sobbing. Momma took the two halves of the ampule and sighed. She checked Hannah's hands to make sure she wasn't bleeding, and over Hannah's protests, she slipped the broken bits into the trash.

Hannah slept with the stained glass triangle. She looked at breakfast through it, but it wasn't as good. Nothing sparkled. There were no red beads to drift down and spread pictures across the mirrors. Everything took effort.

At school, she didn't bother trying for friends. She walked out to the merry-go-round and laid out in the middle. Three poplars reached their branches over the playground. She pushed herself around with her feet and spun gently, watching the trees shift around inside. It just wasn't the same.

A head obscured her vision. "What are you doing?" It was the girl in the crimson sweater. She had a sequined blouse on underneath. Hannah showed her (Ten minutes are up but I really wanna finish this). She handed the triangle over and let the girl lie back while she spun the merry-go-round. When it slowed the girl sat up, handing the Kalidescope back to Hannah.

"I'm April," she said, smiling. And then she got up and began spinning the ride around, and Hannah pointed the stained glass up and watched the trees go around.

I HATE not editing this stuff. biggrin

Still on the laptop, just so you know. :I It was also typed while listening to Umbral Ultimatum, so yeah. Listen to it, it's awesome.

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She breathed in, reveling in the scent of magic in the air, its glorious taint sustaining her, keeping her alive and, sometimes, out of the realm of thought where the Horned Woman came to mock her. She saw a tell-tale flicker out of the corner of her mind/eyes and snarled, spinning to confront her fated nemesis. The Horned Woman smiled at her, clutching that damned sketchbook like a lifeline, or a shield. She lunged after her, barely surpressing a scream of frustration when the Horned Woman flickered out of the way again. She heard the crush of footsteps behind her, and not for the first time wondered if that damned creature lived only in her mind, but dismissed the thought immediately. She still felt her throat tense up whenever she thought of her, a biological memory of being strangled. She heardsensed a voice in her head/ears again, and figured out from the constant, deep static that it was her new/old friend, the one who looked like someone she recalled from her too-brief time as a mortal. She had liked him, and his mind tastefelt familiar, like blueberries and mint. She turned to greet him, and pushed the horned woman out of her mind for the time being. She needed to think, not plot, after all.