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Pen Name: Gremblin

Entry Title: The Dark

Rating: G

Yes, you can comment on it should you feel the need.

0o0o0o0

The pages of the notebook were ripped from use. It was plainly obvious that it had been opened and closed many times in its long lifespan. The edges were yellowing from age as it sat on the grass of the lawn. A light breeze played with the blades of grass surrounding the notebook before blowing the thin brown leather cover open and revealing carefully crafted words on the inside. Whoever had owned this notebook had laboured over it for many an hour, taken loving care of it to be sure it survived longer than they did.

Five teenagers sat around the notebook, looking down at it. They had found it in a small local bookshop, hidden behind and underneath a mountain of books. Upon finding it they hadn�t been able to put it down and were forced to buy it despite their thoughts that it had been left there by accident anyways. The name of the previous owner was smudged away in the top right corner of the front page, keeping anyone from trying to return it.

"What d'you think it is?" One of the teens asked. He had thick coke bottle glasses balanced on his nose. His hair was a bright red colour, matching his bright red eyes. His blue jeans, white t-shirt, and white sneakers were all worn from use. His skin was paled from hours spent inside with his curtains drawn tightly shut. It was obvious that the only reason he was there was because he had been dragged there by his friends and forced out by his many siblings.

"A diary. It has to be a diary." Another replied. She had light brown hair and dark green eyes, and wore clean jeans and a blue t-shirt. Her feet were covered by black boots, her hair kept out of her face by a red bandanna tied around the circumference of her head.

"I think that it�s a tragic love story, telling how two people were in love but were forced to marry other people because they were just too different." A preppy girl said. She had long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She wore a short pink mini skirt, a white top, and a pair of white flip-flops. A pair of glasses was daintily perched on the edge of her nose as she sat on her feet to keep the dirt away from her precious outfit.

"Maybe it's instructions on how to get an ancient treasure, brought here and hidden by mystical space-ninja pirates from mars. Hidden with the knowledge that one day we�d find it and made so that only we could get at it." The speaker this time very obviously watched much too much television. He had his blonde hair cut short and hidden by a tinfoil helmet, his orange eyes covered by a pair of mirrored sunglasses. A series of wooden and silver steaks were strapped down one leg of his black pants, and his shirt was white with "Save Ferris" printed in large black letters across the chest. His feet were covered in what he claimed were rocket boots found in the Roswell crash. All rolled their eyes at his guess.

"You're all wrong. It's just a notebook, with random notes and scribbles of stories and characters doodled in it." The last, but certainly not least, person to speak was quite obviously the leader of the small group. She was the only one to actually pick the notebook up and skim through it instead of trying to guess. She had curly brown hair and a pair of sparkling blue eyes. Mirrored sunglasses perched on her forehead. Her shirt was red with "Vote Pedro" splashed across it, and black jeans and boots covered the lower portion of her body.

"Oh well. It was fun guessing." The preppy girl shrugged. Some nodded, others shrugged. None said anything for a few minutes. Clouds passed overhead, shadows shifted slightly while all five simply enjoyed the companionable silence.

"DJ, what time is it?" The second guy asked. The teen with the coke bottle glasses looked at the watch on his wrist. He had built by himself from nothing more than a few parts of a toaster and a some spare watch parts.

"15:34." DJ said. His father was in the military and had taught all his kids to read twenty-four hour time before anything else. Only one clock in his entire house ran on twelve-hour time, and that was the grandfather clock in the dining room. So as a repercussion many, if not all, of the friends of the Tanner family understood twenty-four hour time.

"Damn, I gotta get going. Stargate SG1's on." The guy said as he stood up. The preppy girl rolled her eyes. But they stopped mid-roll, as she fell forward. When she was finished falling a small dart was revealed in the small of her back. All the others tried to get up and run away, but none managed. All were shot with the mystery darts by an invisible shooter.

Pen-Name: Little
Comments are Accepted.
Rating?: Pg

Chapter One: Just a Normal Day

She was late for school, as usual. Her name was Allison P. Konakata, but most people prefered to call her Allie. She was your usual junior in a co-ed private high-school if you looked at her. If you knew her past or future, however, than she was more than far from normal. Though she looked normal with her long, flowing, light-brown hair that was almost the same color as a dried leaf and pale blue eyes, she wasn't normal at all. She may not look it, but she had an amazingly crucial past, but that wasn't of concern to her anymore.

"Not again!" Allie yelled out. She jumped out of bed as fast as she could, then ran to get changed. She ran to the fridge soon after, and made a quick lunch. Then, she packed up her lunch and books, flung her backpack over her shoulders, and ran out of her house slamming the door behind herself.

This was the usual routine for the young girl. She lived alone in a small, two-bedroom and two-bathroom house, with no one but her young cat to keep her company. Sure, the furry white feline, known as Motoko Kimi, was good for the company itself, but even she couldn't get Allie to wake up on time for school. Allie looked at the clock-tower that was just near Covata Private COED High-School, the school Allie went to for the past couple of years. It was a digital clock on a large tower that had both the date and the time, but that wasn't good. It was a week until midterms, and five minutes until the bell. She had to hurry in order to be on time. It was hard for her, but she made it with a minute to spare. She quickly ran inside and then sauntered down the hall to her locker, where she saw one of her two best friends. Hinata Cova, one of the most popular girls in school was waiting for Allie at her locker. She smiled her kind, warm smile and waved good-morning as usual. This was the daily routine.

"I was worried you wouldn't make it, Allie," Hinata said. "I'm glad you came to school today!"

"I'm sorry that I came a bit late today, Hina-chan," Allie told her. She looked around to see if Masaya was there today. Masaya Paito was one of Allie's other best friends. He hadn't been in school most of the week, and though he was a smart boy, there was no way he'd catch up in-time for midterms at this rate. Allie sighed. He still wasn't in school, even today.

"Something wrong, Al?" Hinata asked. Al was her nickname for Allie, just as Allie's nickname for her was Hina-chan. Allie looked at her than shook her head.

"It's nothing, really," Allie explained. "I was just hoping maybe Masaya would be in school today... He's been out sick almost all week!" She opened her locker and stared at the picture on the door. She had put it there in the beginning of the year. It was an old picture of the three of them.

"He'll be alright," Hinata said. She looked at the picture. "You still have that thing hanging up?"

Allie nodded and replied, "Of course! It's one of my favorite pictures of the three of us, so why wouldn't I? Now I can see it every day at school!"

"You really do like to save memories, don't you, Al?" Hinata said jokingly. She pat her friend on the head and waited as Allie closed the door to the locker, her books now in her arms.

"Ready," Allie said simply. Then, together, they walked down the hallway to their homeroom.

The room was a pale, off-white interior with about thirty desks minimum in rows that faced the black-board. The two carefully took their seats and waited as the teacher called role-call. Allie hadn't really paid much attention. She was too busy staring out the window, thinking about her dear friend Masaya. Soon, the bell rang and she got up to go to her mathematics class.

Math was never a problem for Allie. She was a wizard with numbers, it was history that she had problems with. As time went on, the fourth-period came to an end and it was already time to eat. It had never gone by that fast before, but maybe it was because the entire time she was day-dreaming.

"You've been out of it all day, Al," Hinata told her. "Maybe you should go visit him or something?"

"I guess that may be a good idea," Allie responded. She was sitting across from her friend with her green, floral lunch-box just laying on the table still unopened.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. It's Kona-Lef's little villager. Why don't you just go back to that little farm-boy friend of yours? I bet he wants you more than anyone around here!" A voice said from the edge of the table. It was the red-headed bully of Covata, Samantha Venusu. Due to the remark, Allie's head fell into her arms as she began to cry.

"Don't even talk about him!" She cried. It hurt her too much to think of her old friends and her old home in the vilage.It was part of her past that made her feel more pain than if she had been run over by a bulldozer. Much worse than that.

"Leave Allie alone, now," Hinata said. She stood up, her dark brown, short hair flying behind her. "Either that, or I'll go tell the principal what you did last week with the math-test."

"Whatever, who the hell cares? Cova, she's a geek. A geek that should be back in the home for geeks, not here." Allie could hear Samantha say. Just then, an old man wearing a formal black suit and white wig came into the room. It was their principal who had heard the entire conversation.

"Venusu, leave these two alone right now or you'll be having a month's worth of detention." He told her in his coarse voice. With that, Samantha walked away being followed by their principal, Mr. Greenwall, the entire time.

Allie turned back to her friend and opened her lunchbox, taking out the turkey sandwich, brownie, and apple juice which she had packed in a hurry earlier that day for her lunch. It was just the way it had been when she packed it. She ate slowly, glancing around the dim room cafeteria. The noise coming from the surrounding tables was both nerve-wrecking yet pleasing. But, unknown to her, it was going to be the last time she'd hear it in this school.

Soon enough, lunch had ended and the two females were entering their period six classroom. It was now time for one class that Allie never understood, which was grammar. She understood the basis of it, but not why it was there. She sat still, writing the essay they had worked on for the past two days. It was not too difficult, but there were too many rules for her to remember. From collons to hyphens, there were too many laws in grammar than Allie could remember by heart. She was never good at memorizing things. That was well known.

Towards the end of the day, at period eight, the principal made an announcement to her class on the loudspeaker. Her class, taught at the time by Mrs. A. Sneider, was the class Allie loved most. Science was always a wonderous class to Allie, especially when they did a lab. However, it was not common for this class in particular to be interrupted by an announcement. She listened carefully due to this fact.

"Mrs. Sneider? Please send Allison Konakata to the office. There is a delivery waiting for her." Mr. Greenwall said. The teacher, with her pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes, nodded and glanced at Allie briefly, nodding to signal for her to leave. Allie did as she was told due to the gesture. She walked gracefully down the hallway, wondering why on earth Mr. Greenwall would call her down to recieve a delivery, let alone why she'd get a delivery at school. It was long past picture-time, so what was there to recieve? She hoped to learn that when she got there.

The receptionist, known as Barbara Kimato, looked at Allie with her usual smile. She placed the parcel on top of the marble countertop and gestured for Allie to open it. When doing so, a note dropped out of the packaging, and read as follows.

Allison P. Konakata:

It is a pleasure to be at your aquaintance, Miss Konakata. Please, allow me to make this letter brief. The following video-tape is for you to watch with your class about a striking event that has come to my attention. Do not fret, I just need you to do as it explains. Be careful, madame.

Sincerely,
William R. Smith


Allie stared in shock. Never before had she recieved such a peculiar parcel; especially not at school. As well, who was this William Smith? Allie had never heard of him, and doubted anyone in her school did. Most of the people in Covata were japanese or at least half. It was easy to tell this guy was an English-man. No matter what it was, it had to be important. Therefore, Allie decided to do what she was told.

Chapter Two: The Mission of Brief Logic

Allie walked down the halls all over again, the parcel in her hands. She stopped when she reached her classroom, and went up to the teacher, handing her the package she recieved. Then, she quickly asked, "Should we do what it says?"

Mrs. Sneider was a woman in her fifties and still looked beautiful, even today. She was a caring person with a lot of insight, too. That just made her a more likeable teacher. As she looked at the letter, reading it over and over again, she finally made a conclusion.

"Yes," She started. "Let's watch it. Everyone clean up. I'm starting a video." The class frenzied to clean up as fast and sufficiently as possible. Finally, they all sat down and the movie began.

The movie showed a man with fairly dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and a formal beige suit. The background was a burnt mansion that struck Allie's memory easily. It was the home she lived in as a child, and the home her father and sister lived in recently. Thats when the camera had been moved to a group of dead bodies near the destroyed exterior, all burnt and battered. Allie was ready to cry when she heard the news.

"Today, a man known as Isaac Uchiano murdered a small family known as the Saimo. Already known for the killing of his parents and the murder of Rei and Anita Sakamoto, he's once again started his rampage. We have a feeling his next target will be the other child of Akitoro Saimo, the man right here. The other female child I-" Just then, the man was cut off and a new figure took his place. The figure was a government official with blonde locks covering his head and big, blue eyes. He had his head directed forward, looked straight in fear.

"My name is William R. Smith. Allison, I think you can tell why I sent you that part of today's news. Tomorrow, I want you to leave the area you are in and move to a new address. It is written on the inside of the packaging. There you will start a new life where Isaac won't find you in order to show his rage. I know you miss Sanosuke, but this is much more important. He has to wait. You are the most important factor right now. I don't care how you get to the address tomorrow. Just get there."

After hearing this, she looked down at the packaging and ripped it apart to find out what the address was. To her amazement, it was in the village where she lived with Sanosuke. She then looked up at the screen again in a discombobulated manner. She smiled slightly, thinking of how surprised Sanosuke would be. Finally, the teasing would stop. Venusu teased Allie all the time about Sano, just because he seemed weird from what he knew, which was almost nothing. Allie loved him though. To her, that's all that mattered.

The bell rang a few moments after the brief movie, and Allie ran to her locker with lightning speed. She opened it, packed her bag, and waved goodbye to Hinata. Unfortunately, goodbyes usually took a while.

"What's the hurry?" Hinata asked. She wasn't in that room for eighth period. "You shouldn't need to study too much. Let's go visit Masaya."

"I can't go," Allie told her. "I gotta move again... Moving back to Kono-Lef cause of a murder... A murder of my family..." she looked down, half sad, half pleased. She was glad to go back to the village, but upset about her clan. Then again, she didn't really get along with them. But to her, that didn't matter. They were still her family, after all.

"Aw man, that's gotta be tough, Al... I mean, you move so much!" Hinata exclaimed. There was a small silence. "You don't take long to pack though... Shouldn't you go to say goodbye?"

"I guess you have a point," Allie replied. She looked up at her friend and smiled. She then looked at the way out. "Let's go!"

"Right behind you," Hinata said. "I'll always be right at that spot, Al..." By the time she got the second half in, Allie was already down the hall. They walked to the door, then past the iron gates that helped make the school what it was, private. They walked down the sidewalks, made some turns, and managed to get to a bakery called Paito Pastries. The bakery was owned by Masaya's parents, Yukiko and Sukoshi Paito. On the second floor is where the Paitos lived, and that's where Masaya would be.

"Good afternoon, Paito-san!" Allie exclaimed. "Good afternoon, Mr. Sukoshi!"

"Ah, good afternoon to you Allie; Hina," Yukiko said. She was a formal japanese woman with darker skin than Allies and blackish hair to match. She smiled at them kindly, the way she always did with friends of her son. "He's upstairs. You wish to visit him?"

"Yes," Hinata said simply. They nodded, waved so long, and went up the oak stairs to Masaya's room. When there, they knocked on the door only to be greeted by a choke. Allie opened the door slowly, asking, "How're you feeling? Any better?"

"Hinata? Allie? What're you doing here?" He asked. He shook his head and managed to give a weak smile. "A little better... Doctor said I should be in school next week."

"Glad to hear it, Masaya," Hina said. Allie looked at her feet, the white stockings covering them so much it was as if her skin was purely white as snow.

"Something wrong, Allie?" Masaya asked. He could tell from the distance that Allie was beginning to cry.

"I have to leave soon..." She explained. "I'm moving... back to the village... Isaac-" Thinking of it hurt too much. Isaac, himself, was a hard topic on her. Harder than Sanosuke to be exact. That's why she usually tried not to talk about him.

"When're you leaving?" Masaya asked.

"According to what she told me... Tomorrow," Hinata said.

"Figures.. and it seems like only yesturday we were just meeting you!" Masaya joked, then started coughing again.

"I only came... to check on you.. and say goodbye," Allie said, trying to hide her tears. That was what Sanosuke did around her, and she grew a bit used to doing so herself. "I better go... Get well soon, Masaya... So long." With that, she turned and ran. It was all she could think to do, if she could even think at all. She ran down the stairs and out the door after putting on her shoes, staying as silent as possible until she got home.

Motoko Kimi greeted her, rubbing her leg, but she ignored it. Motoko Kimi was amazed. Allie never acted like that before. That's how she knew for sure something was going to be happenening soon.

"Get ready, Motoko, cause we gotta leave this town tomorrow..." Allie said. She went to her room and began packing. Her forest-green backpack was all she had but she found a way to stuff her possessions, discluding Motoko, into it neatly. After that, she took an extra blanket she could roll and tie to her backpack later on and fell asleep on the ground with it above her abdomen.

(1) Caitlyn Wells
(2) Sonata's Test
(3) PG
(4) Aye, commenting is welcome
(5) Posting!

Sonata took a bow to the roaring applause from the audience, her wavy blond hair cascading over her shoulders. Deep in her bow, she hummed a spell. She knew the performance had been about her skill and artistry and not the magic of song, but she couldn't help this. It was her last performance as an apprentice, or so she hoped, and she wanted to go out with a bang. She rose from the bow in an explosion of butterflies, and when the butterflies had cleared away the girl was gone.

She found herself on the green room floor in a fit of giggles.

Now, now, she chided after a moment. You can't let your master see you on the floor like a first-year apprentice. You do want to graduate, don't you?

Somehow she managed to straighten herself and plop into a chair. The applause had faded now that she wasn't right there to receive it. It didn't matter. She could hardly wait to talk to her friends about the recital. She hadn't botched it like she'd botched all her other recitals. Even if she was small for her age, no one would be mistaking her voice for a ten-year-old's any longer.

The door to the green room opened and in swept her venerable master Cadence, pleased smile on her face. Sonata rose from her chair.

"I knew you were ready, Sonata," Cadence complimented. "You switched so easily between your chosen instruments, and I loved your touch of magic at the end."

Sonata rightly beamed at the praise. Cadence was not known to compliment apprentice songstresses easily. "Thank you, Lady Cadence."

Cadence took a breath, and gave a decisive nod. "You have passed all your skills tests and performed so well in this concert. I have no reason to hold you as an apprentice any longer. You ready for your Destiny Test."

Sonata went still as a statue, all that joy seeping away into dread. She'd forgotten about that.

"Why are you so afraid, Sonata?" Cadence asked.

Sonata shook her head and tried to grasp at that joy again. "Thank you, Lady Cadence. It means so much to me."

"Contra has an opening today, her only opening for the next month," Cadence said. "You know the hall, I'm sure."

Sonata nodded slightly.

"If you hurry there, you should be done in time for dinner. Congratulations, Sonata," Cadence said. "You have been a pleasure as a student. I hope to continue teaching you, if destiny permits."

The master songstress swept from the green room then, leaving behind a girl in a state of terror.

Sonata had heard all sorts of things about the Destiny Test and the hall it was administered in. Some said it was an auditorium filled with specters who made you sing your soul out. Others disagreed, claiming the room actually held a garden of thorns. Tales of its nature varied as much as one songstress's destiny varied from the next, but none of the tales sounded particularly pleasant to Sonata.

She rose to her feet and moved down the halls of the Songstress School in a daze. She knew that this was coming, but she'd hoped she would have a little more time to prepare. Most songstresses got sent off for a year or two before they were allowed to be tested. Sonata didn't want to be special if it meant facing terrors unprepared. She only realized she had come to the door when its monitor spoke in her lilting voice.

"Sonata, take a seat," the songstress said cheerily. She gestured toward the chair beside the door, and Sonata sat as prompted.

She could make out the voice of another young songstress singing on the other side. That singer sounded so beautiful. Her voice resonated with the magic of this place and sent chills down Sonata's spine. She looked at her hands, nowhere else to look in the bare hall. They were small, much like the rest of her, and they weren't holding on to much hope. Sonata really doubted she could manage two excellent performances in one day, let alone two hours. Was it possible to fail the destiny test?

Butterflies beat at her stomach at the thought of what awaited her in that room. Her mind plagued her with darker and darker thoughts. What if she was not ready for this test? What if her ill preparation gave her a dull destiny? What if she had never really been meant to be a songstress? Her parents would be so disappointed. She didn't know what she would do. They had sacrificed so much to send her to the school. How could she do that to them?

Her heart thudded in her chest like a taiko drum. She closed her eyes and listened to the music of it, and her fear started to seep away. Her venerable master had sent her here because she found her worthy of it. It would be all right, no matter her destiny.

"All right. You're up."

Sonata glanced up at the other songstress and somehow managed a smile. The songstress opened the door and let Sonata pass. Before she went through, though, the door monitor rested a confident hand on Sonata's shoulder.

"Break a leg, darling."

Sonata's mustered smile became a bit more solid.

Of all the things Sonata had expected to see in the room where she would be tested to discover her destiny, she never thought her own flute and violin would be among them. She'd left them just offstage only a few minutes before. There they were, though, sitting atop the most elaborately-carved chestnut brown piano. A golden french horn laid beside them. Sonata smiled. She'd just started learning to play the french horn but didn't yet have one of her own. Her parents couldn't afford to send her every instrument she picked up on a whim.

Her old friends practically pleaded to be played, and the piano and horn both called in harmony. If Contra hadn't spoken, Sonata would have succumb to the call and been lost in the music for hours.

"Sonata, you have come to be tested for your destiny," Contra said. A smile rested on her face, which was surrounded by ringlets of silver hair. Few people could say how old she was, but all agreed she still danced and sang with the energy of a songstress in her prime.

Sonata turned and bowed to the head songstress, remembering where she was. "Yes, oh venerable master."

"For this to go well, you must listen," Contra instructed. "Have you been taught to listen, young songstress?"

Sonata simply nodded. Of course she knew how to listen. Listening was so important in music. If you could not hear the pitches perfectly, you could not match them. If you could not match pitch, you could not harmonize. If her tongue hadn't been tangled by a confused question, she might have voiced the opinion. She thought she was there to sing, not listen.

"Then sit on the piano bench and listen. Don't listen to your thoughts. Don't listen to me. Just listen. When you feel the music inside you, you may convey it using your choice of instrument."

The young songstress crossed the floor and sat at the bench as she had been asked. Her thoughts ran rampant through her head. What was it she was supposed to play? What song? She knew so many, but Contra would have heard them all. Just for some comfort, she reached for the french horn and placed it on her lap for comfort. How was she to know what to do?

The breeze came so suddenly from nowhere, wrapping around her like a blanket. She closed her eyes and welcomed it into her heart. It echoed Contra's words.

Don't listen to your thoughts. Just listen.

The breeze whispered in her ears, telling her of the lovely purple flowers blooming out in the garden. Suddenly she was there, tickling the vines and caressing the soft petals. The wind sang to them. No, Sonata sang to them, for she was the wind, and they grew more beautiful and vibrant at the sound of her breezy voice.

A rabble of butterflies with rainbow wings fluttered just above the flowers. Light and swift, Sonata helped them in their flight toward the ocean shore. Almost by magic, the butterflies all became flying fish. Sonata wondered if they had been fish out of water all along. She followed them as they flew away from the shore.

Waves splashed and crashed around her, becoming her dress. She gusted about, sometimes tossing the water and sometimes being tossed by it. The water and the sky flowed into one another, though they seemed separate. They danced together so closely that Sonata barely knew where she ended and the waters began. Above her, the oranges and pinks of sunset faded to deep, dark blue.

With a tidal crash, the waves tossed her high into the air to dance with the flickering light of the stars. She noticed for the first time that stars came in many colors, blue and red and yellow and orange and violet. They, too, sang. Each whispered of times long past, tales often forgotten, and the secret place where dreams began. Sonata knew she could never match their song, but she felt if she could only capture a fraction of that song's ancient magic she could become the greatest songstress who had ever lived.

She must have sung with the stars all the night long, for the pale pink light was returning. She caught hold of a small red-brown early bird and rode along upon its back. The rest of the wind gave it the lift it needed to soar. The bird trilled a lovely note to greet the day and thank the wind as it started on its journey. Animals, it seemed to Sonata, always knew to be grateful. If only people could be as such

As quickly as she had started on her journey she found herself sitting on the bench with her head upon the french horn on her lap. She didn't remember playing or singing, but Contra was applauding her. Sonata laid the horn aside and stood, then gave the neat little bow she knew she was supposed to give after a performance. This time she didn't think to put in a flash of music magic. She didn't rise from her bow.

"I... don't remember singing or playing, venerable master," Sonata whispered. "Why do you applaud me?"

"The wind carried you far, Sonata," Contra said. "It tells me this just as it showed you many things. The wind is always with us, even when it is still. It carries our songs for us and sometimes it only wants for us to sing its song. As it showed you these marvelous things, you sang the wind's song. It is grateful for your beautiful arrangement."

"And I'm grateful it carried me so far," Sonata said. "I never knew how far and wide the wind travelled."

She rose from the bow, but still didn't lift her head to meet Contra's eyes.

"Sonata, I see a question on the tip of your tongue," Contra said. "Come closer and let's talk."

"What about my destiny?" she asked. "What does this mean for me?"

"It means that wherever you roam, the wind will be your friend," Contra answered. "To be honest, young one, though we may get glimpses of the future, your destiny is in your own hands. Some songstresses forget this and tie themselves to what is said after they take this test. I would not like for them to do this. Those of this sort become what they become because they feel they must become it and forget to appreciate the journey until it is too late."

"And, did you get a glimpse?" Sonata asked. "Of my destiny, I mean?"

Contra smiled. "With a song that beautiful, I couldn't have avoided one. You are to be a roaming songstress. You will travel with another songstress and aid all those you come across. You will make some interesting friends and find yourself in some difficult positions. All the detail beyond that is up to you to sing. I will assign you a companion songstress within a fortnight and soon after be on your way. Enjoy your journey, young Sonata."

"Thank you, Lady Contra."

Sonata took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her heart was racing again. She bowed once more, quickly, and then skipped from the room like the young girl she was, her blond hair tossing every which way. A bright smile rested on her face. If half the things she had seen through the wind were to come her way, she could hardly wait to meet her destiny.

1. Saladsex
2. mary
3. PG
4. please do, comments appreciated
5.

So here I stand, beneath the streaming jets of water, pounding hard against my face, washing away my hopes, my fears, and my sins. I reach up and pull the sopping strands of hair from my face, and slowly trace my hands back down my sides, suddenly withdrawing them at my stomach. The water soaks through my clothes and makes them heavy, so that my jumper weighs down on my chest, restricting my breath, and my jeans slip down my hips.

The self-timer on the shower kicks in and the water pressure slowly decreases, until I�m left facing a brick wall, a dripping showerhead, and depressingly, the real world. As riveting and breath taking as this view is, I turn, lean against, and then slide down the wall. I stare out across the scrub, at the night's cold ocean. My mind is floating from subject to subject, carefully avoiding the topic that has haunted me recently. The night's cold, black ocean is a chilling sight, and so I rest my head on my knees, and trace the fine weave of my jeans with my eyes. As I do so, my mind involuntarily recounts the events of the past four months�

"C'mon Mary, it's just a party babe. It'll be loads of fun." Persuades Jake as he puts his arm around my waist.

Sure, just a party.

"I dunno Jake. If my dad found out, he'd kill me."

I should have trusted my instincts.

"He won't find out. All you have to do is be smart about it."

Here comes my first mistake.

"Umm, okay. Why not, right?"

"Cool. I'll meet you outside the Deli on May Street. Eight thirty."

"Mary! Didn't think you were going to make it!" greets Jakes friend, Tony Sabarto, as I walk towards 'Dina's Deli', the local overpriced mini-mart.

"Come off it Sabarto, she's only five minutes late," snaps Jake as he emerges from the shadows. "Hey babe, you ready?" Again Jakes hand casually finds it's way to my waist.

"Yeah, of course."

"Time to get boozed, used and abused!"

"Shut up Sabarto. C'mon Mary."

"Sabarto! Jakey boy! Welcome to the party guys. Jake, who is this lovely lady?" welcomes Steve, as we enter the house.

"Mate, this is Mary. She has four out of six subjects with you." Replies Jake, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, haha. Yeah, that's right. How are you Mel?" chuckles Steve as he turns to me. I can smell the beer on his breath.

"It's Mary." I mumble, as I give Jake a small smile and retreat to the snacks table, grabbing a Coke on my way. I stand and watch the two boys exchange conversation, probably full of highly sophisticated and masculine terminology (i.e. "grunt, grunt", "yeah dude.") Steve reaches into his pocket and scoops out a key, which he hands to Jake. Jake grins, turns, and walks towards me, depositing the key carefully in his pocket as he does.

"C'mon babe. I want to show you something."

I should have asked what.

Jake takes my hand and leads me through a parade of drunken teenagers. He turns and calls something, but his words are lost to the music, pounding through my body. We turn down a dark passage. Jake stops at a door halfway down, and retrieves the key from his pocket. He opens the door and gently guides me through into the room. I hear the door close and lock behind me. Jake turns on the light, and my eyes slowly adjust to the sudden light. In front of me is a tidy room, containing a bed, a small table, and a chair.

I should have known. I should have left.

Jake brushes past me, and sits on the bed. "C'mon Mary," he says, patting the next to him.

I should have known. I should have left. I didn't want to. Not before marriage. I shouldn't have agreed. I shouldn't have done it. I should have known. I should have left.

"So, the good news is, you aren't sick." remarks Dr Roberts as she lowers herself onto her chair, scanning my file with her eyes.

"And the bad news?" I ask, my knuckles going white as I grip the edge of my chair.

"It's not necessarily bad news. It depends on how you look at it. You see Mary, you are pregnant."

I should have known. I should have left.

"Hey babe. Where were you yesterday?" Jake asks, placing his hand around my waist.

"At the doctors."

"Are you okay?"

His look of concern was comforting.

"That depends on your definition of okay. I need to talk to you Jake."

Jake scares a few Year Eights away and offers me the log they were sitting on. "Talk away."

"You had better sit down."

"Okay. I'm sitting. What's the problem?"

"I'm pregnant."

Okay, so maybe I could have been a little more careful about it.

Jake covers his face with his hands. He sits silent and motionless, for what seemed like the longest minute of my life.

"It's okay, babe. I was saving for a car, but I suppose we can spend that money to -erm- fix your little problem."

"No. I have already commited a sin for you. I won't do it again."

"The whole 'being catholic' thing didn't seem to bother you at Steve's party. Besides, if you 'commit' another 'sin', you cover the tracks of your first one. No-one would ever know."

"I would know. I should have known what you were up to that night. I should have left. You may have had enough control over me to get what you wanted before, but not anymore."

"Oh, come on. You couldn't hack being a mum."

I stand, smooth out my skirt, look Jake in the eye and say, "If I have this baby, I will handle it, regardless of whether you help me or not. Keep your car money."

I lift my head and look back out over the ocean. I should have known. I should have left.

The last of the water drips from my clothes, and flows across the concrete towards the ocean, taking with it my hope, my fears, and my sins. My mind is clear now. I know what I have to do.

1. PiousCorn
2. Hovart's Folly
3. G
4. Sure
5:
The sun shines,
On meadow's gloom.
Tries to break,
Eternal doom.

A flash of light,
A break of dawn.
Human life,
Just a pawn.

The scene shifts back,
To cracked Earth.
False-sun baked,
Destruction's birth.

Life's a stranger,
Nature past.
People nonexistent,
The endless fast.

Six legged mutants,
Roam desolate lands,
As sickening foliage,
Lends diseased hand.

We call ourselves gods,
We call upon might.
We destroyed nature,
Through missile's flight.

We've killed life with,
A weapon from our brains.
So tell us Teasdale,
Where are your soft rains?

(1) Aquila
(2) Suicide Phonecall
(3) PG -13
(4) Yes.
(5) Suicide Phonecall

She called me at all hours
Late at night
Or early in the morning
Said she couldn’t see the light
She was giving me a warning
Said she called to say goodbye
Even told me not to cry
Didn’t do me no good
I miss her so

She called me right ‘round one or two
Like she always used to do
Said she’d cut ‘til she saw bone
Said she hurt so bad
She felt so all alone
I told her not to try
Called her ‘sis’ like I used to
Told her not to die
Didn’t do me no good
I miss her so

And still I hear her voice
From that night
Making the choice
Took a pill
Little, white
The pill that took her life
Ended it sure as if she’d plunged a knife
Into her chest
Maybe it was best
But now I hurt
Didn’t do me no good
I miss her so