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 Posted: Fri Jul 22, 2005 2:49 pm
Crap...looks like it didnt translate very well....oh well.
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Posted: Sun Jul 31, 2005 9:12 pm
Transfered from the thread entitled: red moon ~POST YOUR STORIES HERE~ Reyokioh ~ Have a story you wont to share? post it here...stories of all kinds, in real life or in your mind...from the funny to the dark..post'em here i wont to read them!~
give me ideas for my books...(((if you dont wont me to use your idea then after you post , at the bottom of your post pute (NO TAKE)
~THIS IS FOR US WHO LIKE TO TELL STORIES AND HAVE NO ONE THAT WILL LISTEN... crying
THE NORMIES... evil
ANYWAY HAVE FUN... exclaim
Reyokioh ~As the night fell and the red moon rised into the night sky, the war begain. she moved into the towns, as she was told to do, and begain to mercilessly sloughter the humans. In three days all men, women, and children where dead.... She looked at her hands and stared at them, they driped with the blood of inocent victims...as she looked and remembered she felt no pain nore pitty for the ones she had killed. ~She lead her hourds of wolf packs back to thair lands, where they had been the only free wolves from the vimpires inslavement. the nights to fallow she drimpt only of the sceams of the mothers as she ripped thair children from them and savagely tour thair beating hearts from thair bodies...this was to be her punishment for the rest of her years.... ~The stories of the wolves.... the vampires tried to inslave the were wolves...and born from this the "Hellectic Wars" for years evan till now there is a war being waged between the vampires and wolves...humans got themselves cought in the middle of this war... but from these wars formed the "war wolf" the perfect war creature..."that i am..." meany of these wolves fought valiantly for years of the wars.... "W.W.W.C." ~The world wide wolf clan~ no (k) the (c) looks cool like the cresant of the moon... ~Well I Hope you injoy my blood bar... (plz don't steal my stories) Reyokioh turns to her wolf form...a black beast with white tiped ears, tail, paws and snout...a black flame wraps around the wolf and it disappears and then reappears in a dark corner in the back of the bar...the flames slowly dissapate... Reyokioh ~the wolf finds a nice spot on the floor and lays with her left paw over the other, and her head rests on them, har tail wraped around to her side. as she begins to fall asleep the silence of the bar is broken by the sound of a demons roar....the wolf jumps to her feet sudenly and bounds at the demon...the demon forms a huge sword of fire in its hands and swings it furiously at the lunging wolf... Reyokioh ~the wolf slashes at the demon...it had no effect on it, ao she came at again with a bite on the demons right leg...the demon quickly kicked her off...seeing that her attakes had no effect on him she turned to a stronger form...a burst of black flames swerles around her wolf body and she then amerges frome them as a huge up right on hined legs beast the size of a large horse or bigger...her tail longer and feet bigger to fit her new large stature...she folds her ears back and bares her fangs to the demon...the demon throughs back his sword over his head prepering for the attake...the wolf raises her claws and charges at him... Reyokioh ~as she charged the demon lett his blade come down on her she avaided away from it and pounced onto his back then drove her claws into his flesh...he grabed her then slammed her to the floor...he swung again at her with his sword as he lay there helplessly...the blade struck down with a burning flame that whent deep into her....she got up swiftly and leaped over him....she jumped on to his back and pearced her fanges into his spinal cord dissabling him and he fell to the floor... "now i will send you back to ******** HELL!" as he lay there on his back she tore into his chest and riped out his heat, and then bit into it like an apple...spit it out on him and threw the rest of it on the floor..... the demon dissappeared in to flames and nothing was left.... ~she fell to the floor and turned back to her mortal form....she struggled to her feet and whent to rest in a bedroom in the back corters of the bar.... "I'M OH KAY!" she said as she calapsed on the bed with a plop...
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Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2005 6:13 pm
Title:the shadows
comments: nothing to harsh plz
poem:
in light, the shadows shrink in fear,
in dark, the shadows live right here,
the shadows, too, live a life of their own,
all they wanna do, is find a the right home,
but who are we to stop them?
who are we to defy them?
to love them?
to hate them.
just who are we to judge them?
after all, they're the ones who follows us,
or is it us who follows them?
the shadows alone have the power to overtake,
the light,
the world!
so that god can forsake,
yes when god forsakes us,
so we r no longer thus,
we r the ones, who live in the fear,
so listen all so you can hear!
the shadows together can cause a great plight,
but it begins to happen,
only at night.
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Posted: Fri Feb 24, 2006 10:14 am
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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Posted: Sat Feb 25, 2006 12:16 pm
[ Message temporarily off-line ]
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Posted: Sun Feb 26, 2006 9:15 am
1. The Masochist
2. Anything...
3.
Pluck the feathers from my blackened wings,
Take the breath straight from my lungs.
Rip the stitches, Now they sting.
My wounds, healed by the caress of your tongue.
It hurts so bad when I'm not bleeding,
Sedated when I am.
Crave my blood, I know you're teething.
Spill my pillar of ebonized sand.
This hourglass is running low,
Doom, My epitome.
Take your fill, Lo and behold!
What has been done to anger thee?
Pure from my veins, take the wine.
Seek retribution in the falling drops.
Redemption drank from the vine.
My love, for you I would bleed nonstop.
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Posted: Sun Mar 12, 2006 7:54 am
1. Hidden Love
2. Any
3.
A star-struck girl, a broken heart
Her love had known from the start.
Though, how great a connection they had had,
Neither suspected it would end so bad.
A cut to the wrist is how it all went wrong.
Too bad this is only the beginning of our song.
Though best friends they had been,
He never truly let her in.
Unless with him, she kept to herself.
Like a closed book on an empty shelf.
Yet, without her, he was at his best.
He continuously told her to give it a rest.
After a while, she found a way out.
Although, he never heard her shout.
She took a knife that fateful day,
And thought there was no other way
To get him to hear what he should already know.
It was as if the blade was his to throw.
That morning, he had come by
And after a moment, she started to cry.
She cried for him to think of her still
After, the girl, he would kill.
She gave him the knife; he held it high.
He pushed the blade into her heart; tears began to flow as she started to die.
He called an ambulance and turned to walk away
But she asked, through the blook, for him to stay.
No one knows what went through his mind
As he turned back and knelt by her side.
He kissed her then as the blood continued to flow.
She made him promise not to go.
The cops finally came; they were too late.
The boy shall never leave his hell-bound state.
It's been two years; he's still the same.
He'll never again say love is just a game.
He goes to his room and finds his knife;
Starts to think of taking his own life.
He closes his eyes as, with the blade, he stands.
Yet his wrists are held by unseen hands.
He hears in his head a soft-spoken voice,
And immediately reconsiders his choice.
He drops the knife and looks around;
Unknowingly cries as his knees hit the ground.
He hears, in the room, not a sound,
But, as if with someone, speaks aloud.
"What do you wish for me to do?
I cannnot live without you here; I love you, too..."
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Posted: Sun Mar 26, 2006 3:29 pm
Darkness
Any critisism would be nice... I had to make this for English in like 5 minutes.
Darkness.
That is the first thing that comes into my mind when somebody mentions religion.
Darkness ensnaring the soul, the heart, and finally it engulfs the body with it's insistant tampering.
Darkness is my only god, my one true constant. Daylight comes and goes as easily as the wind, but if you wait long enough the darkness can always find you.
Some call me crazy, others even a witch or devil-worshiper. I let them believe that. Because in their minds they have not expirenced the pleasure of having darkness on their side.
I am un-Christian people say. And I guess that I truly am. I do not believe in the all mighty God holding power over beings. We make our own fate and mine lies with the darkness.
People look at me and start to whisper. I hear some parts of their hushed conversation.
'I hear that she defys the name of God.' One says. 'I hear she takes children and make them help with her witchcraft.'
As I walk by all goes silent. One little girl starts to come up to me and her mother shoos her away like I cast some sort of spell on her daughter.
I guess I did though. All the children are afraid to go up to me. Even my peers. When they talk to me it feels like they're playing some sort of game which I am the prize. The next day that child is considered a hero of the school.
'Standing up to that witch.' 'Oh you poor dear, that must be terrible talking to her.'
Darkness is my only being now. My only saviour. The darkness carreses me lightly, reminding me that it will always be there for me.
Sometimes I long to be like everyone else. Smiling, laughing, but then I remind myself harshly that that can never happen. The children think I'm a witch. The elders think I'm a mokery towards mankind.
I have commited all sins that God laid out for us. But if I make up for it I can be welcome in God's arms once again.
This is when I yearn for companionship and guidence. Yet even though they say that I can be healed whenever I try the still shun me. And I realize that it's not worth it.
Slowly I retreat back to the darkness and it opens up to me. Holding me, making me feel as if I belong. And I start to remember. This is where I should be.
Once you feel the dakness closing in on you, you can't get away.
fin
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Posted: Sun Apr 16, 2006 6:08 pm
Somehow I don't trust that there won't be any plagarism of my writing, so instead of posting a full story, I will give you all a little sneak preview of my novel, The Counting Game. I don't feel that the begining isthe way I want it just yet, so I'm going to post a scene where the protagonist is in the hospital after suffering a mild heart attack. Keep in mind that she is haunted by dreams of a dead girl named Amie and the girl's murderers. There's a lot of owl symbolism, and she is at a point in her life where she's experimenting with her sexuality and faith. Btw, there's a publishing company interested in what I've got so far, so perhaps I'll finish it soon and it'll be out by the end of the year... or maybe sometime next year.
Title : The Counting Game
As for criticism, I'd like to know if anybody actually gets the sybolism of this scene.
Sandra sat straight up in bed, wide awake with no hope of falling asleep. The place was entirely silent now, it being the wee hours of the morning. The darkness outside her window was thick and liquid, yet she pictured someone passing through it to get to that window with incredible ease.
Her groping hand finally found the remote on the bedside table, right next to that black leather book, the one that seemed to cause her all sorts of trouble. It lay there, silently mocking her with its scratched letters all full of wax, and something deep inside her told her that it was to be hated, feared, and potentially destroyed.
But how could something so simple strike such dread into her heart of hearts?
It was of the devil, that's how.
But was the devil really something so terrible? He was but a fallen angel, kicked out for having veiws opposite those of everyone's beloved God. God was like a spoiled child put on the throne of a vast kingdom. The world would bow and sway at his call like a field of wheat to the wind. He was a brat who wanted nothing more than for everyone to believe what he believed.
Slowly she snapped out of the trance the book had induced, looking towards the box of colorful wonders and finding that her show had already trancended into commercials. An overly perky fitness instructor was advertising some sort of new miricle work out machine. It made her feel dirty just watching the way they lay or sat, legs spread, muscles taut.
With a wrinkled nose, she switched it off, letting the remote fall from her hands as she relaxed every muscle. She closed her eyes slowly. Perhaps she could force the sleep to come and overlook the concequencial dream.
There was the soft shhing of fabric against fabric that made her open her eyes quickly. There was a silhouette in the blue hospital curtain, obviously a girl with long hair, created by the dim light of the hallway.
She didn't really know what lay on the other side, but she assumed it was another bed with another patient. Perhaps the person had had to use the bathroom... but why did they stand there, so perfectly still and silent? Was it a nurse come to check on either of them in the night? But again, why was there no movement?
Sandra's eyes traveled slowly down to the bottom of the curtain, looking for bare feet or trademark nurse's shoes. What she found scared her.
There were no feet to support the shadow, the girl either wasn't there or simply floated. Cautiously, she drew her blanket up to her chin before calling out, "Hello? Who's there?"
An owl screeched wildly on the other side and there was the rustle of feathers. It made her fall back into memories of summer camp where the owls would call as they all sat around the fire. They had such large eyes, and at that time those ever alert eyes frightened her to no end.
With a tremendous rustle and flutter of wings, the shadow dispersed. Owls burst through the curtain to fly madly around the room, frightened and confused. Sandra began to scream even though she knew it probably frightened them even more and fixed her eyes on the white one that stuck out like color in a black and white movie. Every other owl was brown like the kind that made the summer camp their hunting grounds, but this one was white. Pure.
It seemed to panic even more than any of the others, and she became unsure how those spaztic wing beats kept it airborne. Suddenly it went into a dive, heading straight for the window and the freedom that the night beyond offered.
With a great, shuddering thump, it colided with the glass, a pained hoot rising up from deep inside its tiny lungs. There was a great bloody smear that mingled with its feces left of where it had hit. The poor creature lay face up on the ground now, mangled and gory.
Sandra screamed even louder, waking herself up from the strange dream with a start. The book was clutched in her hands so tightly that her knuckles were white. She wasn't alone.
There, sitting at the foot of her bed, was Anne, a small O.W.L. light clutched in her hand so that she could read her book in the dark. Apparently Sandra hadn't screamed out loud, or the French girl would have known she was awake. She lay there with one eye open, watching her favorite person in the world hunch over a book, her brunette lockes hanging in her face like a glittered cutain shimmering in the moonlight.
"You were screaming... was it that nightmare again?" Sandra had screamed out loud, "It must be quite a doozy."
She pulled the covers up to her nose and nodded with a small sound that she was hardly aware came from her. On the inside, Sandra was praying she wouldn't ask what it was about, for she wasn't sure she could keep the secret from Anne much longer. She wondered, would Anne go away if she knew Sandra was potentially insane?
At that moment it dawned on her. Visiting hours were far past over acording to the bedside clock which flashed 4:00 AM, "It's so late... Why are you here so late?"
"Well seeing as how I'm your 'significant other,' they let me stay the night. The doctor tells me you're coming to stay at my place after you're out of here. Did you just... invite yourself?" Anne's head had tilted at an odd angle that somehow radiated her malcontent.
Sandra thought quickly before she spoke, "Well, I assumed that the invitation to spend the night still stood, so I just..."
She trailed off and let her eyes fall to the floor tile where the owl girl's feet should have been in her dream. Was that a tiny coffee colored feather there, lying lonely on the grey and blue flecked tiles that had seen many be saved or die in this room? No. Just a small scuff mark, probably left by the shoes of a visitor, nurse, or doctor.
Anne's dark mood imediately changed, brightening the room with her perfect eyes as if a miniture sun were sitting on the edge of Sandra's bed, though it radiated a far softer and gentler light than firey magma would, "Oh, it stands. I just thought you shouldn't be so... how do you say? Presumtuous?"
Sandra blushed a deep red and reached descretely to the nightstand. She felt about for the book, but found that it had disappeared. The familiar sound of those thick pages slapping together as the leather bound tome that told her so much and yet so little about Amie closed, alerting her to the fact that Anne held it loosely in her delicate hands. The cerise nails of her right hand scratched across the cover, catching particles of wax under them like dead skin from a terrible sunburn.
"You dropped this in the hallway when you fell. I thought it best no one find it, so I picked it up and kept it for you," slowly she turned her smiling face on Sandra, and that look that was so purely seductive made the words that form the tale of the book on her nightstand only a few ours ago and in her hand a few seconds ago catch in her throat where they were promptly swallowed down like a handful of horse pills.
Before she could spill those horrible horse pill words into her lap like vomit, she averted her eyes to those perfectly painted nails that now tapped the book with a pleasing noise that enticed her further.
"Do you like my nails?" she held them out before her, letting the paint glisten just enough to show that there were almost no flaws, "Perhaps I can do yours when you come to stay with me?"
All thoughts of the craziness that encircled her life like a cacoon, hardly protecting her yet holding something dangerously beautiful, flitted away like the butterfly that might one day hatch, and she said with a smile, "I'd like that."
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Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2007 5:11 am
1: In Which Blood, Death, and Laughter Ensues. 2: Ways to improve characterization and (this being a humor story) funny things that would fit the plot as such. Please don't flame. Writers don't like flames. It makes us sad. 3: Clicky.
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