|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Nov 17, 2004 10:38 pm
How I long to be
That darkened figure
Who follows everyone else
Obeys their every command
How I long to follow
Everyone else's footsteps
Slowly going no where
Gaining no respect
How I long to be controlled
Told what to do
How to do it
Sacrifice all my beliefs
As well as my life
Just to fit in
How I long to be just
A shadow of a man
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 22, 2004 8:29 pm
"It's ... an ancient recipe ... told to me by my grandfather, who holds it from his own grandfather, who learned of his grandafther, and so ooon ..."
Man, was grandpa's voice getting on my nerves ... sure, he was a great guy, but his droning was so slow, so uselessly filled with bunches of memories that I couldn't help but nearly fall asleep each and every time he speaks two phrases in a row.
I needed to put up with it, though. At least for today. Y'see, my family's the gipsy kind. From grandfather to grandson, and grandmother to granddaughter, lores were given down like that through the ages, and so on. Things like charms, spells, rituals, but also things more simple like recipes to cure backpain and the such. Though like every respectful gipsies in the land, the Sentiments (that's my family's name) had a speciality. Ours was potionmaking, but for drinks that softened, or even heightened certain kind of emotions.
Today, grandpa was gonna show me our greatest achievement: the love potion. Sure, every gipsy could make a love potion, you'll say. Well, that's wrong. What is falsely called a love potion is actually an adoration brew, not any better than forcing someone in slavery. Our love potion was something subtle, something much more touched. True love was brewed in the Sentiments' cauldron.
"Don't just stand there, child. We have much work awaiting", he snapped. Goody, I dozed off again. Always happened when I thought of that potion. Now back to reality, though, I followed grandpa down what we called Dream Lane. It was nothing more than a simple corridor of our house, but it was the first step to so many peoples' dreams ... out of the first window on my right, through torn up curtains, flowed a warm light coming from the red sunset. That corridor looked abandoned, so dusty no matter how hard we tried to clean it up. Just in front of it was a door. That's where I learned peace, quiet, nostalgia.
The next window, strangely, didn't show the same scenery as the first. That one was shut tight, without any curtains. Outside, it was snowing. Pretty little flakes falling one by one on white-coated hills, surrounded by a forest of pines and spruces. Everything was glazed sugary white ... but then, every few moment, a great wind would roll around and pick up in speed, stronght and fierceness until all was filled with swirling blizzard. Personally, I couldn't bear looking at the blizzard. Grandpa, for a reason, loved it. I preferred to take a quick look to the door facing it, home to youth, cheers, but also of despair, the coldest of feelings ...
Many more windows, many more doors. Many a strange thing, floated by as we went down Dream Lane. The corridor seemed to get longer by the second, twisting, turning in every way imaginable and much more. Such a madness that could not be beared by the mere and the usual. Words aren't enough to describe the wonders, the horrors. Each time I walk through the road, I wonder if it isn't really a nightmare, so much it's disturmbing scenes make me as happy as it gets me sick.
But as always, right when I was about to ask grandpa if we could turn around, give up, never come back again and not be of the gipsies, he stopped.
"We're here."
Here? Where? There was nothing. Like the light at the end of tunnel, but without light. I couldn't see past my very nose. Of course, I was nothing but an infant, as always. Grandpa had never been here many more times that I couldn't count. Today would change, though. The moment grandpa grabbed the door, turned it left and pushed open the knob, I had that feeling things would be different.
I had the reflex of catching my hat upon entering the room behind him, which was a good thing, or it would have fallen up to the walls. Me and grandpa were too heavy to be pushed by gravity, so we were fine, but every piece of clothing that wasn't tied to our feet had to be caught and held in place.
That day, it was me who brought in the ingredients. Usually, grandpa did it, but he said love was too much for his old bones to handle. I, the young, was much more apt to bear the weight of it's consequences. Plus, my lack of experience would make me oblivious to most of it's downs. Still, it was heavy, and made a loud "vlum" upon hitting the roof when I let it down.
"Love, my child, love! This is the most complicated, most incredibly imprevisible of emotions! Now watch very closely, boy, for you are about to find out what, of all sensations, true love is all about."
~*~*~*
What, you think I was gonna tell you? C'mon ... if gipsy secrets were open to public, there wouldn't be any need for gypsies, don't you think? That and ... well, to tell the truth, I understand nothing of all that happened in that dark room. Grandpa totally lost me there. In fact, I even think I fell asleep through the whole thing ... but y'know, I don't mind at all. Love, that strange alienating feeling, I'll find out what it means even if I have to find out by myself. I'll go down Dream Lane once more, get the meaning of true love, and finally learn.
When I told him that, grandpa, that old cow ... well he just grinned.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Nov 26, 2004 7:59 pm
Its the beauty of a charmed life
Amanda sat on the small bed with the batman covered sheets and stuffed dolls and animals. Her arms wrtapped around her waist as her eyes stayed on the marker drawings in her lap. The emotion that most people carried in their eyes had disappeared from hers.
+ ~ + ~ + ~
All you could see were the braced teeth of Aaron as he laught. When he had finally finished his eyes stared back at his sister, his big goofy grin laid happily upon his face.
"You like that joke I'm guessing. . ." Amanda smiled back her hands clenched together as she sat across from her younger brother on the batman covered sheet. Aaron nodded and crossed his legs indian style.
"Anoder?" His speech had only changed a little since he first was able to talk.
"Not now, maybe later, okay?" Amanda's eyes turned from her brother as she looked to the wall on their left side. There were crayola drawings everywhere. The sky different shades of blue, the grass was different shades of green and some brown. She smiled as she noticed the two people in the middle of the colored wall.
+ ~ + ~ + ~
Crayola skies for a thousand miles
Amanda's eyes took from the papers and went to the wall in front of her. There was more done to it since last she saw it. There was a tree and swings and magical type creatures in the background. It still wasn't finished. . . The two people were there, the boy with an egg shaped head, square pants and a square shirt, the hair was a yellowish brown and very messy. The girl had the same egg shaped head and same yellowish brown hair, but wore a triangle shaped dress. Amanda squeezed the papers crumbling them slightly as she did so.
+ ~ + ~ + ~
"You like?"
Amanda's concentration broke as she heard her brothers voice and turned. Her eyes look him up and down noticing the backwards shirt and inside out socks.
"I like," her voice was calm and happy as her gaze moved to Aaron's face.
"I'm 'appy! I dit it 'o you!" His grin widdened as he leaned forward and hugged Amanda. Amanda could hear the soft humming from her brothers mouth.
"Whats that?"
"A song!" He leaned back into his place and started to sing the words to the song aloud. "Its a charmed life innotence wild. Cryola skies for a dousand miles."
"Haha, nice Aar!" Amanda laughed her vision being blurred from the tears building up. She tried hiding them but Aaron could tell that she had been doing so and frowned.
"No sad sis! You should be 'appy!" The humming began again before he started to sing, "Its a charmed life unexplainable grace. Sumble and you'll fall righ ' indo place. Its a child like world and you can feel da magice. Far from da typically tragic. Dats da beauty of a charmed life!"
"I am happy. . ." Amanda smiled and placed a hand on her brother's shoulder.
"Will you 'elp me finish?" Aaron motioned to the wall.
"Of course. . . Its so pretty how could I resist?"
+ ~ + ~ + ~
The stir of laughter echoed through Amanda's head as her eyes focused to make the scribbled drawings clear. A smile arose as she stood and walked to the two people on the wall. Her hand went over the boy slowly, "Aaron. . ."
+ ~ + ~ + ~
"We can't find him!!! ANYWHERE!!!" Mrs. Daniel yelled her voice cracking as she fell to the floor in front of police, her husband, and her daughter. "Nowhere! Hes nowhere!"
"Ma, get up, please!" Amanda grabbed her mothers arm and helped her to her feet.
"Now tell us exactly everything thats happened since the past week. . .\' The man has a notepad and Amanda stared at it as if she'd never seen on before. Everything in her mind went blank except the smiling face of her brother. He had been for almost 48 hours.
"So hes retarded?"
"MENTALLY CHALLENGED!!!" Amanda's head snapped up and glared at the officer. He nodded and jotted something down.
+ ~ + ~ + ~
Who needs to know
When it all comes and
When it all goes.
Who needs to know
Just where
Sleep will take you there. . .
*Goodnight* The word spun around Amanda's head as it fell resting on the wall colored blue and green. Her arms were spread out over laying flat against the waxed crayon scribbles as she stepped forward getting as close as she could. There was a cracking noise under her feet and looked down. The sky blue crayon laid broken and in pieces next to the red and orange.
*"Will you help me finish?"*
"Of course. . . Of course," She spoke aloud to herself as she bent down and picked up the biggest half of the blue crayon.
+ ~ + ~ + ~
"They're. . . The police. . . are pronoucing him dead. . ." Mr. Daniel closed his eyes a turned his head to his lap.
"No more searching. . ." Amanda whispered to herself but everyone was able to hear it because the silence made it sound so loud.
"They'll try to find his body. . ."
+ ~ + ~ + ~
Na na na na na
Its the beauty of a charmed life
A tear rolled down Amanda's cheek. *Don't cry sis! Be 'appy! Don't cry! Be 'appy!
....................Be 'appy!
.............................Be 'appy!*
The tears started flowing more esily. "Its hard. . . Its just so hard. . ." Then the tune came into her head slowly.
--------Its a charmed life--------
Amanda smiled, the tears still coming as she moved the crayon over the wall starting to finish the picture her brother had started. "Its har- . . . Its. . ."
*BE 'APPY!*
"Who needs to know
When it all comes and
When it all goes.
Who needs to know
Just where
I know you'll be there. . . "
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 28, 2004 12:03 am
(Hrmmm-hmmm-mmm!!!)
Walks away silently into the snow,
With no place to go,
To live alone, to die alone
With nothing to show.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 02, 2004 5:18 pm
Fox Fire
Tennion looked around as he slowly hunted a small butterfly as it pranced around in the air. His red coat shone in sun as he jumped around trying to pounce the small insect. He stopped as he heard a call. His family jumped through the bushes and he looked up. Above the forest was a thick blanket of black, growing to fill the sky. His red fox tail swished in the air as he heard his friend call to him, telling him to get away. He looked into the forest and saw an unnatural glow that he’d never seen before as many different kinds of animal scurried out into the clearing.
Suddenly, a demonic form jumped out and flew up a nearby tree, engulfing it as it danced about on the branches as if to swallow the tree whole. From it, a thick, black cloak jumped from it, waving in the wind as it grew wider and larger, covering the sky with its emptiness. Tennion heard a creaking sound from the engulfed tree as it began to crumble to the ground, still engulfed by the unknown form. Tennion ran as fast as he could toward his friend as the tree fell behind him, pieces of the bark coming down around him, glowing the same glow as the form that ate the tree.
He had almost reached his family as a moose ran in front of him, almost trampling him with its mighty body. Tennion stopped, looked up at the moose, then back at the blackened forest. He turned back toward his friend but saw nothing, save a few creatures still fleeing the horrific scene. Tennion turned about, trying desperately to find anything familiar to go to. Finding nothing, he decided to head to where all the other creatures were headed and began running as quickly as his little legs could carry him. He turned back to see if the strange form was following him but could see nothing. Before his head could fully turn back around, he felt a sharp pain in his neck and felt his legs give out. The last thing he could sense before he only knew blackness was his body tumbling.
He awoke in the darkness, his form surrounded by nothing. He turned in circles in a futile attempt to see something. He called out but only heard his own call in return. Suddenly his mate appeared from the shadows. Tennion turned and looked at her. She seemed saddened and slowed by something. He tried to run to her, but could not grasp the ground with his paws. He continued to try to run to her anyway, glad that the creature with the black cloak that ate the forest did not harm her. To his dismay, he found that no matter how fast he ran, he never got nearer to her, though, it seemed, only farther.
He stopped and looked at his mate, her eyes slowly becoming black as her form slowly fell lifeless to the ground. He perceived it as if it happened in minutes, but knew it took not only a second. Suddenly her body was engulfed by the bright form and she was gone in the emptiness. Suddenly a brown light surrounded him. It wasn’t a bright light like the form, but it was brighter that the darkness he was just in. He looked about and saw that he was in a hole, a foxhole. His foxhole.
Tennion slowly crawled out of it, making sure that the creature was gone. His eyes shot open as he looked about. He ran back into his foxhole and slowly came back out to make sure he was where he thought he was. He looked around at his home in disbelief. Instead of the lush trees, thick bushes, and grass everywhere, there was just grey. Grey and black as far as he could see; small streams of gray smoke rising from what was left of the trees. The sky had been tainted grey by whatever it was that had ruined his home. He looked about at all of the chaos the surrounded him, not believing that this charred ash-world was once his green home. Suddenly he saw a glint of red in the corner of his eyes and instantly started heading toward it.
As he got closer, the red began taking the form of a fellow fox, but it’s fur was scolded black in parts. He stopped a few meters from the form in shock, a whimper escaping his mouth as he recognized the form. It was his mate, whom he had been with most of his life. He cautiously approached her and lightly nuzzled her still body with his nose. He licked her softly, trying to rouse her stillness, but could get not even a twitch of her whiskers. He looked at her cautiously and noticed something that nearly made him pass out. Upon inspecting her further, he noticed that her chest was not moving and she had no heartbeat. In disbelief, he nuzzled her again and again to get her to wake up.
After what seemed like an entire day, he collapsed on the ground next to her lifeless body and laid his head on his paws, keeping his face close to hers, hoping to hear a noise come from her. He sat for hours, but heard nothing. Finally he closed his eyes and felt his soul leave him. He felt the life drain from him and into the body lying next to him. He tried to open his eyes but could not, thinking he felt her stir slightly. Once again, the darkness began to claim him. Before he was lost forever to it, he heard something that calmed his departing soul. He heard a soft whimper next to him and a cold nose press against his. Then all he felt was darkness.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Dec 04, 2004 10:51 pm
Untitled.©
Copyrighted by classified author; Codenamed GJ66
This room is a cage.
I asphyxiate as silence fills me.
Nothing in this world is real.
The light has fled.
As darkness surrounds me, I submit.
My love has stranded me.
My things are by the sanitarium door.
Who will take me? Who will save me?
I take medication to alleviate the pain.
All they do is ******** me up
Once again, I long for death.
It would be my release.
Struggling to breathe, I stop.
What is it that's still haunting me?
A single black rose, long since dead;
Acts as a metaphor for my failed existance.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 05, 2004 4:34 pm
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2004 8:21 pm
Ok here's the Scoop....I Found my Song book so yeah and Trick has been pressuring me to post some songs up for you. So I hope you enjoy. sweatdrop
*~*~*~*
Sitting At Heaven's Door
Verse I:
I've been sitting here waiting for them,
They know that I'm patient, They know I want in.
Is it because I'm diffrent?
Is it cause I'm I'm strange?
You Know I'm here, so Please open those doors for me.
Chorus:
Sitting at Heaven's Door.
What have I done to deserve this?
Sitting at Heaven's door,
I just want to belong in that world with you...
Verse II:
I cry as that light falls on me,
Everyone seems so happy.
Tear of lonliness drop down to earth as I wait
Those locks seem like a desperate snake.
Is it because I'm different?
Is it because I'm not te same?
You Know I'm here, so Please open those doors for me.
Chorus
Verse III:
I thought this place was full of accpetance,
I thought this wasn't another hell.
But not being with you adds up my pain,
Why did I maker that stupid mistake?
Is it because I'm precular?
Is it cause I'm not like them?
Can you please open up for me?
Chorus fallowed by intrumental music
Verse IV:
I always knew that there was something between you and me.
And you didn't even say "I'm sorry"
Why do I waste my time waiting for you?
It's because your behind that closed door...
*~*~*~*~*
Black Rose Bleeds
Piano Intro
Verse I:
It's so delicate,
Yet very strong.
It's beauty touches the sky,
though angels dare not touch it.
The Night....A black rose bleeds....
Chorus:
A black rose bleeds,
every single night.
Black Rose Bleeds,
As someone puts up a fight
Black rose bleeds,
when a loved ones out of sight....
Verse II:
This beauty is amazing,
So very rare.
It fends off all the darkness.
Though that tends to be it's equal pair.
Chorus:
Verse III:
The night, that you feel alone.
The night, you don't want to be at home.
The night, you suffer greatly.
The night, your breath grows raspy.
The night, a black Rose Bleeds.
When a Black Rose Bleeds....
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Dec 10, 2004 9:43 pm
The official "poem" that I will read in english class (in complete mono tone) during the poetry unit if my english teacher makes us write and read out poems out to the entire class: My Suicide(In mono tone)I killed myself In english class today, Because Ms. Josty Made us read our poems In front of the entire class... The face I will be making: stare
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 13, 2004 1:21 am
Crazy-Chan The official "poem" that I will read in english class (in complete mono tone) during the poetry unit if my english teacher makes us write and read out poems out to the entire class: My Suicide(In mono tone)I killed myself In english class today, Because Ms. Josty Made us read our poems In front of the entire class... The face I will be making: stare
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 20, 2004 4:32 pm
Devil Cat
The full moon cast it's glow through the branches of the trees around the sleeping form of Alexiel Alastaire, luminating her pale skin with it's soft light. The 18-year-old girl stirred in her sleep, a shiver running down her back in the cold night air. She mumbled and rolled over onto her right side as she pulled her black cloak tighter about her small figure. The girl was obviously troubled in her sleep, haunted by the unconscious thoughts that manifested themselves in the forms of nightmares. She tossed and turned in her fitful sleeping, until she was lying on her back. Nearby, her black steed, which she had named Charger, pawed restlessly at the ground with his hooves.
Alexiel suddenly sat bolt upright in a cold sweat, her chest heaving as she panted. Shoulder-length red hair framing her face, her cobalt blue eyes darted about in search of something. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end as she watched the shadows around her intently, looking for the slightest sign of movement. 'Perhaps it was just the dream that woke me, but I could have sworn I heard a noise.' Alexiel thought to herself as she slowly started to calm down. She glanced over at her equine companion and noticed that he too was a bit nervous, but shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps it was just an owl or something. She was ready to lie back down and go to sleep again, when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye.
Alex bolted to her feet, throwing her cloak off to reveal that she was wearing black pants, a white shirt, and a black tunic over it. Black boots rose half way up her calf, a small blade strapped to the inside of each. On the belt at her waist were two dirks, which she drew and held at ready. "Whoever you may be, show yourself to me now." Alexiel called out to what or whoever was in the shadows. The girl waited for what seemed like hours, her heart pounding in her chest as the adrenaline ran through her veins. Finally, after minutes had passed and there was no other movement, she sheathed her blades and walked over to mount her horse. Whatever had been in the woods was clearly gone now, still, Alexiel knew she would find no rest or peace of mind till the light of morning was seen. There was nothing left for her to do but get up and continue traveling.
Alex rode for an hour before she managed to calm herself completely, and she found Charger and herself lazily picking their way down a trail in the forest. It was obvious that the trail they were walking was one used by animals, which meant it probably led to either food or water. She was thinking about how she could refill her flask if there was water when Charger suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. The ebon hued steed became very restless, pawing at the ground again with his right, front hoof. The beast tossed his head about, his mane flying in the air, his nostrils flared, sending out warm puffs of breath like smoke in the cold night air. Chocolate brown eyes rolled wildly in the horses head, showing the whites as Alex urged him to take a few nervous steps forward.
“Steady boy, there isn’t anything there, you’re just being skittish and imagining things.“ Alex spoke soothingly to the horse, but it was more to reassure herself than the animal. She had never been one to not trust the beasts instincts, for he animals always sensed danger long before humans, however, she knew that it was important to keep the animal calm or her may take off suddenly and throw her. As Alexiel tried to calm her frightened steed, she peered into the shadowy depths of the forest around her, searching for the cause of her animal’s anxiety. There was nothing there that her human eyes could detect and she heard no sound. Alex was ready to urge her horse on again, when something moved in the corner of her eye, something stepped from the bushes at the side of the path behind her.
Alexiel Alastaire twisted in her saddle to see what had moved onto the path, and standing behind her was the massive form of a mountain lion, larger than most cats of it’s kind. The large wildcat let out a scream of hunger as it charged at its intended prey. Poor Alex had no time to react as Charger, suddenly reared up onto his back legs, his front hooves striking wildly into the air before him. The midnight colored equine lunged forward on the path in a flight of terror. Alex lost her balance and fell from the saddle only to find that her boot was caught in the stirrup and her body was being dragged behind her steed. Alex’s body slammed against the ground time after time as struggled to get her foot loose, knowing that if she did, she would only have to face the starved wildcat that was following close behind. The wildcat seemed like a better choice than breaking her neck.
Holding onto the stirrup with one hand to try and keep her body off the ground, Alex tried to free her boot with the other, but she kept losing her grip and she would hit the ground, only to pull herself back up. So close, she was so close to getting herself free, when her upper body suddenly slammed into the ground violently, her horse had lunged forward again to clear a tree that was blocking the path. Alexiel Alastaire felt herself become weightless for a fraction of time that felt like forever to her, her body pulled off the ground by Charger. Then, she started to fall as gravity once again proved just how dangerous it could be. The force of Charger’s sudden jump had pulled Alexiel’s boot free and it was a miracle that her ankle was not broken or sprained as her foot had come out of the stirrup. Alex’s body, now no longer held in the air with Charger, was thrown forward and down by inertia and gravity, into the very tree her horse had been trying to clear. A scream of pain murdered the silence of the night and crimson blood was spilled as Alex was impaled on a tree branch.
Alexiel’s body lay pressed against the fallen tree, the branch having entered her lower right back to go all the way through. She was bleeding heavily and it appeared as if her kidney had been punctured. Her breath coming heavy and ragged through the pain of moving, she slowly pulled her body off the branch, and tearing off her cloak, she wrapped it tightly around her abdomen to try and slow the bleeding. Charger was disappearing into the distance as Alex stumbled over the fallen tree, knowing that the wildcat that was in pursuit would catch up soon and she had to keep moving.
Staggering forward, Alexiel could hear the wildcat’s screams as it closed in on her, moving with the speed and precision of a born killer. She glanced back at her pursuer, catching its gaze with her own, those eyes were merciless, the eyes of a demon that knew nothing but a hunger for flesh, a devil incarnate with no feeling or emotion. Unable to bear the gaze of the beast, she turned her eyes back to the path before her, and there, just ahead, was a cliff, rising up from the forest floor. Cut into the face of that cliff was Alexiel’s salvation, a fissure that was just large enough for her to squeeze into, but to small for the wildcat to follow her. Hope surged within her, she had only to reach that fissure and she would be safe. Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound drowning out all other sound around her, it felt as if her heart would burst through her flesh it was beating so hard. Tears welled in her eyes as she fought against the pain in her side, blood soaking her clothing and running down her skin in a small stream to leave a trail behind her. It was the scent of her blood on the air that was driving the wildcat behind her.
Safety, the fissure, was almost Alexiel‘s, only a few more steps, only a few more feet. Her mind cleared of worry and fear as she stretched out one hand, waiting to feel the cold, rough stone underneath her fingertips. However, her nerves did not sense the feel of that lifeless stone, but they felt the burning fire of pain. Her body stumbled and staggered, tumbling forward to the ground as two screams rendered the calm of the night air. One scream was a cry of pain that echoed forth from the hollow depths of Alex’s throat, the other was the triumphant cry of the starved cougar as it sank its claws into the flesh of it’s prey. Alexiel rolled over onto her back as the cougar loosened its grip, so that it could roll it’s prey over and get to her neck. For a moment, the two locked eyes, the devil staring into the cobalt blue eyes of a girl, and the girl staring into the emerald eyes of Death. Alexiel Alastaire stared in horror at the macabre image of a wild devil cat, lusting for blood, and then the world faded away into darkness.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Dec 28, 2004 9:08 pm
I'm working on a new story and this is what I have so far, give me opinions people!!!!! Quote: A Change in MeBy KuraiThe moon was shining bright and full through Alexiel Fell’s bedroom window, casting its pale glow over her even paler face as she looked up at it. How long had she been sitting there, just staring up at the night sky as she cried her tears of pain and loneliness? She didn’t know; the hours had blurred into one long eternity of silence and darkness. As she heard the grandfather clock in the living room strike twelve times, she finally moved, one delicate hand lifting to push her mouse-brown locks from her pale blue eyes. With a sigh, the girl turned away from the window, letting the black curtains fall back into place as she collapsed onto her bed. It had been a rough day. The alarm clock went off, the annoying buzz penetrating the dark depths of Alexiel’s slumber. She groaned, rolling over to swat at the clock and cut it off before climbing out of the bed. She had to hurry, it was her job to get herself ready for school and cook breakfast. Alexiel quickly dressed herself, throwing on what clothes she could find that didn’t smell too bad and she headed to the kitchen. The girl went about her morning routine as if it were ritual. She opened the cabinet, stretching and yawning as she glanced over the items available. Her gaze settling upon a box of grits, she pulled it out and soon it was joined with a carton of eggs and a pack of bacon. As soon as she had everything on the stove and cooking, she started to make a pot of coffee. Alexiel hated the stuff, but her father couldn’t leave the house in the morning without a cup of java. “Do I smell something good cooking?” Alex looked up to see her father, Cole Fell, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He had arrived just as she had finished taking everything off the stove. Without waiting for an answer, the man made his way to the table where he sat down and started to fix himself a plate. “That’s my girl, making breakfast for her dear old dad.” He looked up at Alex and she looked at him. He was neatly dressed for his day at the office, his short black hair combed into place, emerald eyes sparkling with vigor. Cole turned his attention back to his breakfast and his cup of coffee and Alexiel quietly slipped out of the kitchen to finish getting ready for school. Late. Alexiel was running late as she hurried to the corner to catch the bus. After fixing breakfast for her family, she had gone about getting herself ready for school. Breakfast had taken more time to fix this morning than normal and as she had rushed out of the door of her house, she had been running behind. Now she was running down the sidewalk, heavy black boots thudding against the pavement, her chest heaving as she started to work up a sweat. It was a hot spring day, too hot for anyone to be wearing long pants and a sweatshirt, but that’s what Alexiel was wearing. She was an odd one, no matter what time of the year; she always wore long sleeves, never allowing any flesh below her shoulders to show. She was so close, so very close as she rounded the corner of her street, looking down to where the bus stop was. There sat the bus, other teenagers climbing onto it even as she continued to run. ‘I’m going to make it,’ she thought, a smile gracing her features as she reached the half-way point. At that exact moment, the doors to the bus slowly closed and the bus started to take off. “No! Stop! Wait for me!” Alex cried out as the bus took off down the street. She could see the kids in the back laughing and pointing at her, her plight providing them with a little amusement to start off their day. However, Alexiel didn’t think her predicament was so funny. As she slowed to a walk, she let out a deep sigh; she would need to conserve her energy because she had a long walk ahead of her. Alex leaned heavily against the wall just outside her first period class; she had finally made it, only moments before first period was going to end. Exhausted, she pulled open the door and walked in, only to stop short as she heard her teacher call her name. “Miss Fell, so nice of you to join us this fine morning…” Alexiel cringed as she started to explain why she was late, just to be cut off before she could say barely anything. “However, I think the principal would prefer your company now. Go on Miss Fell.” She didn’t try to argue; she only turned around and walked right back out of the classroom, listening to the snickering of a few of her peers as the door closed behind her. Slowly, Alex made her way down the hall towards the principal’s office. “Well Miss Fell, that’s the seventh time this semester, and we’re only half way through the semester. What do you have to say for yourself?” Alexiel sat in a chair in the principal’s office, looking up at the man who was speaking to her. He was in his late 40’s or 50’s, but he looked younger. He had a hardened appearance, a man chiseled from rock who had only grown tougher over the years. He was a harsh man who enjoyed one thing about his job, making kids miserable. “I couldn’t help it Mr. Grandios… I had to cook breakfast for my family this morning and it took longer than I planned…” Alexiel paused for a moment to look at him and gauge his reaction before continuing, “I… I missed the bus… I had to walk to school…” She tore her eyes from him, looking at the ground, unable to hold his gaze. “No excuses Miss Fell, you’ve had too many tardies, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to assign you an after school detention.” His eyes were cold as they bore through her. “But… I have to get home to cook dinner, my father will be furious if I’m late!” Alexiel tried to protest, knowing that it was no use. Grandios dismissed her and she trudged out of his office to finish out the rest of her day at school. Things just seemed to get worse as the day went by. She got into trouble during second period for not finishing her homework. In third period, she was surprised by a pop quiz. Alex was glad when the bell finally rang for lunch. She had the last lunch period, the one right before fourth period started. The day was almost over. ‘It can’t get any worse…’ Alexiel thought to herself as she picked up her bag and moved on to the cafeteria.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 29, 2004 1:38 am
This is a small piece of writing I worked up some three years ago, and have since picked and worked on since. Feedback is greatly appreciated, both positive and negative. Please, PM about it. Dark Beginnings PrologueHis name is Daemon Val Din. In the English tongue, the name Daemon is an older reference for demon, only now it stands for something far worse. His name is unspeakable. His actions are unthinkable. Above all this, his very story is undeniable. His mind and soul are tormented and twisted to the very chaos that binds his existence. Come now, and see where the darkness truly began, in the very pit of a condemned soul destined to save the very world he sought to destroy.
With the appearance of a real man, Daemon has the great ability to go where he pleases without disruption. No one would question a man whose very presence reeks of evil, but instead he would cower in a corner and say a final prayer for his very life. His appearance is enough to turn a man to stone. He stands at a powerful six feet, two inches. His hair is of light lavender, which unfolds all the way down to his lower back when untied. His eyes are as devilish as his soul, capable of enticing any person to his will or demise. His smile is as a devil?s, capable of deceiving even the most pure of hearts. He is covered in black clothing that could expose his form even at a clouded midnight. A heavy black cloak covers his body from head to toe, a silver chain keeping the cloth together around the front. Very rarely has he been seen without his cloak off outside of battle, but there have been few who have lived to tell others. An armor is bared beneath the great cloak, which is forged of a great metal known as mythril. This metal is as strong as any dragon?s hide, but lighter than the feather of an angel. It has the bright sheen of silver upon it. A single plate covers his chest; the right edge of the plate tapers off, but as it moves to the left, the plate becomes wider. He bares matching shoulder plates. Upon his arms he wears matching gauntlets made of durable leather and small pieces of mythril. The glove of the armor is made of the leather, while covering the backhand and top knuckles is the mythril. Two pieces cover his upper leg and thigh. Upon his shins are two more plates that protect even more. He wears a pair of solid black leather boots, somehow still clean even after the dirtiest of places. His entire armor, though, is strapped around his back by the same leather as with his armor.
His name was not really his to begin with. Instead, it was earned upon the field of battle. Daemon translated from Tongue stands for "The Demon of Man." He earned this name through the battles, which should rightly be called ?slaughters.? Numbers of men have fallen mercilessly before him, and few have ever survived an encounter with him. Those who have can no longer live a life worthy of any man. Cursed with visions of blood and death, these men must suffer for what is the rest of their existence. His name is truly worthy to be deemed as a demon, for that is exactly what he is. Betrayed by the hellish lord Bethrezen, Daemon cursed the damnation put upon him and escaped to the Earth. He wandered the Earth relentlessly, forever searching for a human host to survive as the atmosphere actually burned away his demonic flesh. A long and gloomy night fell upon a quiet village, and nothing seemed to be amiss, that is until Daemon found his way in. Killing the guardsmen that patrolled the streets, he made his way without worry in and out of each building, killing everyone he laid his accursed eyes upon, until he found a small child. Despite Daemon?s wrangled and hideous appearance, the boy was unafraid. He saw his answer inside of this child, and Daemon prepared a bloodied ritual to guide his form into the vessel that he had chosen. He then consummated the village inhabitants now dead with an engulfing flame, taking what life remained within them.
Afterwards he set out upon the world, his vessel?s body protecting him from the destructive nature of the planet. This body soon became weak with his constant dwelling, and he soon had to find a permanent vessel for him to survive in, one that would last. The boy?s body grew fragile and numb; his skin began to peel from the use of its soulless body. Within day?s time it began to rot, but Daemon found what he sought in his final vessel. A great warrior, Tagard Flaren, was well known for his abilities in battle, and even more against the very denizens of the Underworld. Tagard also wielded a magnificent weapon know as Nature?s Fury. As night drew down upon this unsuspecting warrior, a boy approached him, ?Excuse me, sire,? the boy?s voice torn and sickly, ?but I need to ask you a great favor.? Tagard was taken aback at the boy?s foul stench, but as he could not see the boy, he did not know what had happened to him, ?Speak quickly, boy, your body smells of the plague, what is it you want?? ?I only ask, sir,? his voice changing from sickly and tormented, to hell-ridden echoes, ?for your body!? And before Tagard was able to even realized what he was, Daemon placed his hand upon Tagard?s forehead and within moments, a breeze of hellfire surrounded them both. Their eyes filled with pain and agony, and then a great surge of crimson light exploded from the sight. When the horrible explosion faded and dispersed, the boy?s decayed body was upon the ground, now smoldering, while Tagard?s body remained standing. He collapsed to his knees and bent forward in pain.
A patron from a local tavern stumbled across the ally from which the events took place ?Hey, you?re Tagard Flaren, aren?t you? Are you okay?? Tagard slowly brought his head back up, but unknowing to the man behind him, his eyes now surged of fire, ?I am fine?but I am not Tagard Flaren,? The man backed up a few steps to allow the man to fully stand and face him. The man?s face grew to horror as he saw what had transpired. Outside of the ally, a burst of intense flame spewed forth following the last cry of a dying man. At the next dawn, as a traveling caravan passed over the nearby hill?the only remnants that remained of the city was the body in which Daemon arrived there. Apparently, a bit of his energy was left in the body, preserving it from the destruction. Legends spoke that a great horde of barbarians raided the city, but it was never explained how there were no traces of civilization anywhere to be found, beside the rotting corpse found in the middle of the remains?
A decade later, the story had carried by word of mouth, but as for the existence of Tagard Flaren, no one could ever recall him, as he now became nothing more than a faded shadow of memory. Daemon, on the other hand, had a reputation that grew far larger than ever expected.
Called a demon by any that have seen him and a murderer by those who haven?t, there has not been a soul who did not fear him. His body was as fresh as the day he touched it, and with the incantation he placed upon the body, one of unbreakable seal by any magic, his energy would forever preserve it. He wandered the world in search of a great power, one that would secure him victory in any battle; he wandered to the North in search of what has been called the Omega Blade. Otherwise known as the Blade of Ending to most races, he knew it would grant him the power to be the most feared in all the legends. A demon with the power of a god, his power would be undeniable, as would his existence in the lore of the world. When he found the forbidden temple far into the great peaks, he found it was not alone. Guardian angels protected the sword, and at the very last, the mightiest angel known, Michael.
A great battle ensued between him and the angels for seven weeks straight. In the end, it was Daemon who was victorious. He killed the lower angels without mercy, but in an act of defiance, he spared the archangel his existence, as he knew he would be punished for letting a demon take hold of the sword. With Michael defeated and the remaining angels killed, he willingly took the sword. In a great flash and overwhelming surge of power, his ascension was complete and so was he. But there was something stopping him in his completion, and it laid within the sword itself. Inscribed upon the hilt was an archaic language, so ancient that not even the wisest of mortals could understand it, but it was nothing impeding him, ?One?s who life is of pure light, only then shall the Destined be known.? This, though, had made no sense to him, as for the eternity he has lived, there was nothing he knew to allow him to understand it. ?I care not for this inscription, it will not keep me from my destiny!? But as he returned to South, he knew he had to have that power, and so he decided it was time for a change. He would no longer kill just for his pleasure, as the pleasure was now gone. He no longer sought power, as he found what he searched for. He was now humbled and secured in his now enlightened path. The sword changed him, or so the Legends say. As he changed, the sword?s great power seemed to become less and less, and finally it was sealed away. He secluded himself within the mountains in which he had found the blade, his own existence becoming myth among the lands. To this very date, not a single soul knows of his true name, for to hear its very whisper would be to curse the very soul to the Hellfire.
Another decade had passed and the lands became more peaceful, but soon unrest came as warlords now rose to power in their own respected lands. Battles raged across the lands, villages were being looted, and the inhabitants either slaughtered or imprisoned into slavery. There were three of the great warlords, the first of which was the most vicious, Landau Dacross.
He rarely spared any he encountered, but if he did, they were the younger girls of the village and most beautiful. He himself was an ugly man, even compared to a Backard demon. His face bore scars all over, which were then surrounded by pimples and pockmarks. His body was nothing more than massive bulk covered in tattoos. His great army consists of barbarians of great strength and battle prowess. Landau Dacross is a man of little intelligence, as he was raised in a rather brutal and primitive environment. This great bulk stands to a full seven feet, towering above any normal man. His bulk is pure muscle, once more granting him a great advantage in battle. His head is shaved, the back covered by a tattoo showing a great beast. His eyes were blood red, said to have come from his childhood life. The barbarian clan that found him was not what anyone would consider industrious in their endeavors for knowledge. One concept they knew more than any being was the art of battle. They could forge incredible weaponry especially used for the battlefield, most capable of goring a man in one swing. Trained to kill and revel in the blood of his victims, his childhood was cruel and torturous to his innocent eyes. It is with great regret that at the age of nine, his heart already craved the lust of blood. To shed the blood of his enemies upon the ground of the battlefield drove him to become mad with anger and power. Constantly driving himself to become the strongest among his people, he would challenge any and all who would stand in his way, and this is where the scars he bares came from.
He wasn?t the greatest in techniques, but he still survived every battle, receiving a fresh scar through every one. At the age of 19, he had taken control of his own tribe, finally becoming the strongest of his people, killing the great leader for his position. That would shape his fate forever. From that day forward, Landau ravaged the very lands he survived on, taking down entire forests and then stealing the mines of the great dwarves for iron and metal. The other clans soon noticed the great rising of power in Landau?s hands and joined in his now-grand family. With wood and metal for weapons and armor, he then began his raids. He would charged blindly into any city and raze every last remnant of land to be seen. He would have every girl taken and then have the survivors slowly tortured and then killed before the young boys of his clans. His cruelty only grew with his power, as did his hatred for the ?greater? beings of the earth. At 25, he has conquered much of the Northern Territory, leaving only the Great Mountains untouched.
The second was smaller but just as lethal. This warlord hailed from the great East where the best assassins were trained. His name was Oru Hido, known to be the greatest assassin in the world. His body is lean and of firm build, but his face is unknown, as it is either covered by a mask or by shadow. His army consisted of the greatest warriors in the world, but they were less in number than the other great armies. Oru Hido is a great enigma to any person. Hidden in shadow and veils of mystery, there is not a soul alive who truly knows him, not even his own son. Oru is of a shorter build, his full height coming to a mere five feet, six inches, with a smaller frame. His eyes are of deep purple, which comes naturally through his bloodline. His hair is black and believed to be cut to a short trim. A ninja?s gi is his normal attire, even within his own house. The color will vary from day to day, but his patented style is of black cloth embroidered with a gold wind dragon (Its body is long and curved along the gi). Born into a noble family, Oru was given the greatest of riches. When he turned the age of four, he was given to a grand master of martial arts, or ninjistu. The art of the Shadow came easily to Oru as it had his father and his grandfather. Training from the young age with his Master, Oru?s skills grew greater at a miraculous speed. Weapons, techniques, and manipulation of form and shadow became like second nature to Oru by the age of 16. It was then his great Master told Oru that he could learn no more from him alone, but that he himself must go unto the world and gain more experience. Oru was pleased by his Master?s faith in him and followed his request. His journey into the world was rough on Oru, as he had been sheltered in the Eastern Lands for his entire life, mostly in a hidden temple of secret location, even to his family?even to him.
The men of the Middle Lands were intelligent and sophisticated, but they lacked in the abilities of war and battle. Their technology was beyond anything he had seen before. Weapons that could fire metal projectiles from long distances with the use of what was called gunpowder. The style of armor was much different than that of the East, but just as effective. Metal plates covered in thick layers of cloth and leather. Oru had become enveloped in the Middle Lands, absorbing knowledge and technology that would further his abilities. Once he felt he gained enough from these lands, he returned back to the East and introduced all the technology he had found. When he returned to his Land, Oru had come of age. Now 30 years old, Oru lead his people after his father had passed on of a deadly illness. Not allowing his land to fall backwards, Oru moved to his people and they followed. They soon began to fashion armor and weapons similar to that of the Middle Lands, but they were capable of advancing that technology further with Oru?s keen mind.
Cannons, ballistas, and catapults were further developed in the Eastern Lands, their power becoming a rising force. Oru did not stop at technology alone, though; instead, he had his entire army trained in the way of the Shadow. No longer would they be mere foot soldiers sent to the field to die as mortar, but they would penetrate their enemy?s lines and kill them off from within. This, though, was not to last. The illness that had taken his father now spread across his lands, taking men, women, and children alike. Oru himself became ill, but by a miracle he survived. Now he was fully recovered, he was ready to begin once more, but he would soon find even that was to wait once more. The illness had wiped out at least half of his army and a great more of the populace. His dreams would have to wait?
The last of the great warlords is the greatest of the three. Known only as Lord Bahaumaut, little is known about him personally, and his appearance is of giant proportions, covered in a massive, hooded cloak. He was the last to rise of the three powers, but he has also been the most dominant in the battles that have been fought. His men wear heavy, dark armor that seems to be unbreakable to any weapon. Their weapons are forged of what appears to be pure onyx, but the strength is of metal.
This figure was the most feared of all three. His origins are unknown even to the eldest of the great races. Said to hail from the South Continent, Bahaumaut is said to wield massive powers of the arcane and magiks. No one has ever seen this so called ?Master of the South,? as he is always hidden behind the risen wall of great darkness that shields the Southern Lands.
The only proof of his existence is the army that bares his banner. Called ?The Dark Army,? these soldiers fight with the mercy of a begaral demon, tearing into any man that came before them. Great weights of armor cover their body, supposing that they even have one. Arrows, swords, axes, any kind of weapon forged could not break their armor. It was until a great elven mage confronted a soldier of Black that a weakness could be found. It was in the power of magic that these abominations could be destroyed, but it was at the cost of the mage?s life that foreboded others not to follow in his footsteps. After all, what would be the point; if you must sacrifice your own life to kill but only one, there would never be a reason to fight as there would be no one left to claim victor. Instead, the other races tried desperately to create new weapons to even just pierce the Black armor, and some even tried to mix the power of the magik?s to that of the metal in which they forged. Soon, the toiling and striving for an answer would soon bring them an answer ?Will our endeavors be enough?? Only time will tell. For now, it is the time of the Dark Beginnings?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Dec 30, 2004 7:42 pm
This is me. . .
I'm the girl next door with an attitude.
I wonder, 'will I be here tomorrow?'
I hear everything, yet I hear nothing.
I see what I want and don't look when I need to.
I want to be loved, but I hate being smothered.
I'm the girl next door with an attitude.
I pretend to be better when I'm actually not.
I feel like everthing is getting worse, but its only getting better.
I touch things out of my reach hoping to have them.
I worry about the things that might have happened.
I cry over you, but you don't even know it.
I am the girl next door with an attitude.
I understand what others feel.
I say things before thinking about them.
I dream for a life much better than this.
I hope that I can have just one real kiss.
I am the girl next door with an attitude.
____________________________________________
I Wish I Knew
I woke up in the arms of another man wishing they were yours.
I looked in his eyes having only thoughts of you.
I kissed his lips pretending they were yours.
'Why did I do this?' I asked myself.
'Was it because we fought?'
'Was it because you didn't listen?'
'Was it because I talked?'
'Was it from those three simple words that caused me so much pain?'
'Was it from my tears?'
'Was it from my flirtaious ways?'
I laid there thinking.
I laid there silently crying to myself.
I laid there with him and not with you.
'I'm sorry,' I thought.
'I'm sorry I admitted my feelings.'
'I'm sorry you frowned.'
'I'm sorry I did this. . .'
Forgive me, because I love you.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 03, 2005 6:53 pm
A Chosen Path
Angst will Destroy all of mankind.
Slowly but surely it will consume all who gaze upon it,
as they are unable to touch the light once more.
As they soon become trapped within this constant loop as they slowly take their life away.
With Every painful thought and movement,
Someone will suffer the effects.
But there is another path,
To think even outside the box.
Ignore all those who upset thee,
Share the love to those who love in return.
For if one countinues down this empty dirt road,
Their Blood will be the path they fallow.
*~*~*~*~*~*
My Inspiration was simple, all of you who are located within the walls of Levi. For everyone suffers this desease, Even I. But Mister Gawd Like Maxi also showed me there's another path on which I want to fallow now and to not see the negative.
I know it sounds crazy...Madi's inspirational sweatdrop
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
