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 Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 2:25 pm
Spirit of the Act/Drama
Final decision.
Welcome to my quest for Odette, the spirit of the Act/Drama. Enjoy~
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 2:25 pm
Navigation .Birthing of Drama; intro
.Navigation/updates
.Odette
.Guardian
.Gallery
.What happened
.Links in/out
.Ex
Updates
0o. Drew fancy-pants pictures of Odette. Crappy as they are.
1o. Wrote the first part of Odette's story.
2o. Wrote the second part of Odette's story.
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 2:26 pm
Spirit of the act: Name: Odette [O-day]
Gender: Female
Age: Since the art of the act has been alive.
Spirit: Act/Drama
Description:
She looks a lot like this, hair and face wise, she's a little lighter then this color, but still nonetheless tanned:  (From www.pixelbee.com)
Her cheeks are naturally a little red against her dark skin, and she has a few freckles going over her nose and cheek bones. Her lips are full for a child. [and when she grows older, for a teen and adult] Her features can appear very youthful, the way her lips form and the openness of her eyes, yet beyond those features is a life long knowledge of the theater.
Personality: Odette is rambunctious and very dramatic. Every action she performs is done with exaggerated attempts, and she is always aiming to please the general public. An audience to her is worth more then her life, and Odette is always performing. She often walks with a superior appearance, her nose tilted up, her back straight, yet she is by far no snob. She enjoys company at the house and often pleads to recite a verse from this play or that. It would seem that Odette shifts her personality as she meets new people, and to an extent this is true, however rarely is it noticeable. She often tries to fit the wants to others, a general people pleaser, and because of this, she will consciously waver on her true self and another, simply to match the needs to what that person she's speaking with wants.
Also, as she grows older she tends to like wearing nice things, with bright colors at times. Pinks, purples, greens, yellows--all types! And the accessories she gets are gorgeous. Ritually, she likes wearing beads and lots of bracelets, but she also likes wearing neutral colors like rich browns, especially on the necklaces and bracelets. For instance--those large ball necklaces that are made of 'wood' like material with string attached at times and other types of colorful beads would match for necklaces and for bracelets, it would be like those leather bands that button together, with many, many other random designs like beaded bracelets and string ones...ect.
Likes: The theater, performing, dancing, singing, clothing, food, pink and purple, any place and any one that let's her be her.
Dislikes: A bad crowd, Fruit cakes, bad plays, the subway, peppermints.
Hobbies: Mainly, her hobbies are sitting in her room, drawing or performing for her puppy, however she also loves to go out and sing on the sidewalk of her home.
Favorite animal: Her puppy Shakespeare.
Hero: All play writers, Drama artists.
Favorite person: Her guardian, Louis.
Abilities: "Woo a crowd into tossing flowers"[or to what she calls it, in all honesty it's simply she has the capability to get what she wants.]: Her strength is in performing, and because she is forever acting, she can easily gain what she wants simply by using drama to it's extreme.
This also includes throwing tantrums, fussing, whining, crying, and making a scene. She likes the attention.
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 2:27 pm
Backdrop story [How Guardian and spirit came to coexist.] Name: Louis Maroc [Lu – is] [Mar – ok]
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Occupation: Play writer/Theater whore
Orientation: Bi
Description:
He looks a lot like this, except with extremely long, straight black hair.  (From www.pixelbee.com)
Louis is fair skinned, his eyes an intense blue and his body as fit as it needs be. He’s very tall, extremely in fact, making his visits to the theater much enjoyed. [He’s not seen for the 1 to 2 hours of darkness that goes on during a play] His cloths are always high priced, and often seem to be from the era of 1700’s. Louis is very, very rich and for being a play writer, you wouldn’t expect it. Louis is also very, very handsome, with very sharp features and a flawless face, and even though he's sleeps alone at night [before Odette comes along], he often doesn't seek out a partner, for his work is his life.
Personality: Often, Louis is content with being quiet and alone, sitting in his comfort zones and indulging himself in his writing, however most of the time, his vivacious attitude consumes him, and is his main personality. He’s very much so a performer, even if he’s never stepped foot on stage before an audience, he is always willing to please the people. Louis is also very into clothing and bright colors. He adores cute little objects, especially his pooch Shakespeare. (who later becomes Odette’s)
Likes: Colors, food, clothing, cute things, hugs, Theater, plays, writing, casual/elaborate outings, candles, the idea spirits.
Dislikes: Obnoxious people, movie theaters, grease, butter.
Hobbies: Going about town with a black cane and fancy cloths, sitting at home and writing plays, buying lots and lots of stuff, playing with Odette.
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 2:28 pm
Gallery Art will be coming as soon as I can draw some up/I commission someone for some. 8]
Odette -- Not looking to much like herself, with lack of freckles and blush and what not.
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 2:29 pm
What happened... [Summary]
---Before---
Drama dates back way beyond some knowledge of scientist can even imagine. The art of acting, feeding off of the audience attention and lust; the authentic desire for more entertainment. And for as long as Drama existed so did a spirit; no, rather the spirit. It never took shape a name or body at all. Gender was a mere human trait, and for a Spirit to take form was unthinkable; unfathomable.
The spirit of Drama wasn’t noted in the realm of human, but thrived on a different plain, one no human could ever see, or dare try to see, for even the thought of such a thing wasn’t common among the average Joes.
However, even as Drama held no typical form that a human would, it consisted of thoughts and wonders and emotions, and as it lived on a plain that other ‘spirits’ did, it had friends and foes as well. Not often was a spirit considered a foe, but merely one not to be messed with or spoken to, so the good and bad clicked with those of their own personality, making the life of a spirit rather comforting.
There were hundreds of plains that could be visited by a spirit, and spirit alone, and all of these held the same guidelines and rules as well as capability as the next, the most common being that no human could see through to it. Spirits were safe in that way, and often ventured to the realm of the humans, whether to cause havoc or otherwise.
This, obviously and over time, became much of a problem, for the longer a spirit seemed to stay within the boundaries of a human realm, the more they began to become apparent. Mind that they did not look human, but took on the shape of themselves, as a spirit would look in its own plain, and this of course would never, ever, be acceptable. So, as the visits between the human plains, as well as others became even more frequent, the guidelines began to shift.
The more these spirits wanted to venture out, the more danger it brought to the plains as well as to the spirits themselves, so the trips between plains soon became banned. Of course Drama, of many spirits slowly became upset with this, seeing they thrived on the attention a human offered, as well as were completely fascinated with the creatures on other plains, and so sought an alternative.
Whether this would cause them harm, or their realm harm did not seem to matter, or even if it did the need to be free to roam other area’s was overpowering, and so the tare in the rules was found. As braver spirits seeped through the crack willingly, many did not, frightened of what exactly could happen, for the loss of a Spirit life would be the loss of the idea of that spirit in the human world. Drama would no longer exist on their plain, as well as snow and autumn or even the spirit of love. This slit could easily be the end to the creativity of humanity as a whole.
And yet, the thrill was what drew those more weary ones in. And even more so, those who went through the hole had the capability to communicate with those of their prior plain, giving hope to many. Drama was one of the many few to stay away from the hole, no matter how curious it became, the fear of loss was unthinkable, and a loss of Drama? No, it would not happen, not if the spirit itself could prevent it.
Soon, this tare was found out, and laws were shifted to sew it back up, so the loss of contact with other plains seemed imminent. Spirits fled to the hole, those who wanted to go through, and many dangers were brought by this implode of pushy essences. After a long while, there was an option given to spirits, a limited one at that, and it was said that any spirit willing to leap through the gap was free to, however their loss would be on their own head, not of the laws or the plain of the spirits as a whole. Drama was not to pass this down.
There was, of course, a draw back to this, being that the communication with the their plain was then lost and their spiritual form was too gone, and they would be forced to take on the features of a human...not that becoming a human seemed at all bad in a spirits mind.
To much boiled inside to let it slide, this opportunity to live in the human world, as well as be a spirit in a human body. So, within the time given for this limitation, Drama took the chance, and leapt…
Nothing could describe the sensations that occurred, the odd feelings, the transformation, and the alteration. Limbs were made; a heart pulsed, beating fiercely. The spirit slowly became a human, and with little knowledge of how to work the human form, it choked on its new life for a long while, the voyage to the human plain longer then ever imagined.
Nearly all the spirits that slipped through the crack, which were many of thousands, knew of the humans, and many even knew some traditions—one of which being that they had to have a name…The spirit that was Drama knew of names, the artists that wrote drama, those who acted in it—so following the patterns, it sought out a suitable one—Odette.
As far as gender was concerned, the spirits figured nothing of it and only sought out a suitable terrain for its arrival. Each one did not exactly pick its own destination, but with the idea of a spirit’s personality, where ever they plopped was suitable for them in more then one ways. Drama, or rather Odette, landed quaintly in darkness, lights just dimming, the colors of humanity exhilarating.
As far as what became of the plain, it is unsure. Odette, in becoming a human, was not able to keep in contact with her realm of the past, unlike those who seeped through while the crack was still wide open. Odette lost many of her homeland visuals, for the eyes of a human saw things completely different then they would have on her past plain—so the knowledge of it was not necessary.
The plain she lived on once could have easily torn twice over, and become one gaping hole that allowed any old spirit to drift in and out of—she would never know for sure. And as far as other spirits went, she did not know if they knew of her plain or of any plain at all! Whether a spirit in a human body came from the spirit of the human mind and its creativity or of another human entirely, Odette was yet to find out.
But, for sure, Odette was stuck in this plain, and leaving was no option, to her or any other spirit of her kind.
---Now--- ‘Excuse me! Do you know who I am!?’
‘Look, I don’t care who you are. Nobody gets in the theater without a ticket.’
‘But—I WROTE the blasted play! Let me in you baboon!’
Solemnly, the usher shook his head, gently coaxing the pale hand away from the handle, in which it clutched.
‘Understand you rat of a human, I wrote that play!’
A parade of gentle music began within the distant background of the usher, and with a smile, the man with the black tie pointed to a golden sign that read clearly; “No one enters once the play has begun. Music will signal this entrance.”
‘You must be mad! Bloody mad I say!’
Quietly, the usher shrugged.
‘I’m sorry sir, but you just missed the entering time limit. I’m, most terribly afraid you’ll have to wait till the next, showing.’
‘Oh, don’t play coy with me fellow, I know there is only ONE showing of this play, my play! Understand I will make sure you are demoted from your post, shipped away in a box to Indonesia and working in an all women sewing factory if you do not let me within these doors!’
The seriousness in the pale gentlemen’s features clearly stated he meant business. But the Usher declined the most generous offer, shaking his head and fronting an emotionless expression.
‘Oh, is that a threat? No need, for I do not take offence to any such wording. So sorry. Please, sir, lower your voice; it is scaring the audience.’
‘BLAST YOU! How do you know the audience is disturbed!? How do you know anything you dumb bat! I simply do not understand you! Can you not see who I am?’
His voice rose, obvious that he could clearly care less if the people inside heard. Truly, he wanted them to hear, and for someone to come out and see that this usher was simply blind as a goat and would allow him in.
No luck.
The usher watched the street continue on, the passer bys moving briskly with their fine clothing, luxury of being rich. Tonight, like any other night, was a time when the rich and famous stalked the streets, glowing with satisfaction. They were the Alpha creatures of the night.
The pale gentlemen was furious, but was fed up with the ushers miscommunications. It seemed, however as he walked away, a man with black shades and a matching uniform stuck his head out, whispered gently to the usher, who’s eyes widened with the news, and slipped back in.
Oh, he had figured it out now, and felt quite the fool. Quite.
No matter, the play had only just started, and the pale young gentlemen was determined to get inside, whether it was through the front door, or;
The back.
Yes, it was polite to enter through the entrance of a theater, but if worst came to worst, prying open the back was the next option, and any man with half a mind would have done it, if indeed their play was what worked within.
The man moved swiftly, his black coat moving just barely with his steps, long black hair flowing, boots tapping. His hands were tucked tightly in his pockets, head tipping between two hunched shoulders. He would, in moments, be around the back, walking hastily through a dark and quite narrow alley way, and dipping into a hole in the wall door where a metal bar was propped up against the wall.
There, he snatched up the tool and, with gloved hands, worked at the door with all his might. He was, sadly, a fragile man who did little hard-hat jobs, so this task was a bit difficult, but nothing he couldn’t handle, for of course—this door had been left unlocked.
That usher must’ve been the cause. Why, any old scoundrel could have waltzed in, posing as Mr. Louis Maroc, and shot the lead lady straight through the breast.
It was a sickening thought, and as he opened the door, he felt a chill run down his spine. A dim light shone down a long, darkened hallway that led to yet another, unlocked door. Once the main one was closed, locked and left to be, the darkness shrouded the hall, making visibility minimal.
’Damn…’
He cursed, keeping both arms outstretched in front of him, breaths audible in the silence. This next door carried itself a window, small in size and barred carelessly however a window nonetheless, and through this window the young gentleman saw a glimpse of Ramóna, the youth of classy women all around. He smiled, gently opening the door and slipping into the main corridor. It was a nice change in scene, with its elaborate red and gold carpet, and stripped red and cream wall paper. Though the walls seemed to be crumbling, the aged building was beautiful, in that it was indeed ancient.
Ramóna heard the creak of the door, and sped up, only to slow as a smooth voice worked its way into her ear.
‘Louis? Louis Maroc? Is that you?’
Her body swung about, silvery eyes gleaming. She was a blind young woman, and groped the air, one hand out stretched while the other clutched her pale white under gown, the first portion of her soon to be attire.
‘Mr. Louis Maroc, dear are you there?’
‘Yes Ramóna, I’m here.’
Louis moved swiftly, catching the elegant woman as she stumbled with her footing. Ramóna Green had worked within this theater for what was now 3 years, and had grown very accustomed to the path ways, cat walks, entrances and exits of the building, which made her disability less of that and more of simply a burden.
Her orange, tight curls bounced as she rested her head on Louis’ chest, breathing softly in the warm scent of sweat that curdled from the man’s body. She had forever been in love with Louis, but would she ever have the heart to tell him? No. Never.
She knew what he was, and that he would probably never love a woman like herself, but to lust over his beauty, even if she never a day saw his face—that was ok.
Ramóna slid her hands down his back and hugged him tightly, taking advantage of her ability to do so without it seeming weird. Louis thought of this gesture only in the way any friend would, and slid his own down to her tailbone, lacing his fingers together and resting them there.
‘Ramóna, when do you go on? I do hope I have not missed your scene.’
‘Louis, you should know by know that every scene is my scene. I am the lead woman, I am the star.’
A chuckle relapsed from the two, and as he pulled away, she fought to cling on, if even only for a milli-second.
‘You are so modest, Ramóna. Tell me then, when to you return to your stage?’
His choice in words lead Ramóna to laugh once more, his sarcasm only the art of his humor.
‘Oh, whenever. They would never continue without me you know.’
She smiled, humbly, moving that much closer to him, so her breast grazed his chest, and her hand easily slid up the side of his face. In return, Louis offered her the same, running his silky smooth hands towards her face, cupping two plump cheeks in his palms, and brushing a kiss upon her nose. It was his sign of friendship, if not hasty desire, and her taking it as his utmost want for her body, her soul. She loved him, why did he tease her?
Correct—he did not know. Eventually, Ramóna would tell him, but now was no time.
Pulling away now, for a second time, Louis smiled, though Ramóna would never know, and planted a soft kiss upon her cheek, lightly whispering into her ear.
‘Ramóna, I must leave you now. My seat upon the balcony awaits me, and because I only wish to watch you on the stage, I must venture off now.’
Louis began to walk off, leaving Ramóna mystified, estranged. Her eyes wavered in the air, high above normal level, and her hand slowly began a decline to her side, where she quickly smoothed out the sweat gathered.
‘Louis, wait! Meet me after the play, please. I must—I must have a word with you, please.’
Louis turned, Ramóna now facing his general direction, where the wind seemed to churn as he brushed past her, and smiled.
‘Alright then, till then.’
His lips puckered, and he noisily mouthed a kiss in the air, which they had forever since the beginning of his writing for the theater exchanged, and responded by clutching the air near her lips, and smoothening it across their full appearance.
Louis had since walked on, his mind now filled with the idea’s of the play, of happiness. Of what was to come as he walked the steps up to his seat, gesturing to the man who stood outside his door to move aside, and allow him access.
For the longest while, he stood in the darkness of his balcony, arms crossed and tucked near his chest as they rested precariously aloft the railing. His legs were crossed slightly, just allowing him enough balance to stand. He watched the scenes swing in, and drift out, evenly separated, yet smoothly connected. Each act was brought to life, as if that stage was life itself, and those actors and actress were simply living it out. There was, at one point, no audience, and only he and the theater stood.
Ramóna preformed more then once, and with every dress-in and out she made, her character was that much lovelier, more alive. He smiled as she stumbled on the stage, a sure sign of both nervousness and clumsiness, but all the same it was played over well, and the audience took her fall sympathetically. They knew she was blind, just as much as she did.
Louis…Louis…Louis…
It started just around 8, and now it was quarter to eleven, when Louis began to take notice of a calling of his name. He perked, looking about the dark area, the crested railing empty of persons, the chair beside him as well empty. Yet the voice continued its call.
Louis…Louis…
It wasn’t uncommon for the play writer to often hear his name being called, or hear others around him speak to him, for it happened to anyone, yet this calling—his name, it sounded too real, came off too much like a humans voice should. He glanced about again, brilliant blue eyes scanning excellently through the darkness.
There was no one on his ledge, his throne, and yet the voice still rang like the bells of time, constantly, for as long as time lead the way of life, would those bells ring. Much like the voice, it stayed consistent till the end, where it wavered and died away, only leading into the next one with strength.
Quickly, Louis thought it to be the man outside his door. He had before this day told that same gentleman that he wanted complete privacy while a play was in motion, and so with respect this man must’ve followed orders. Louis knocked quickly, before turning the handle and pushing it open.
‘Good man, have you called for me?’
The man startled, jumping to his feet with quick haste. He had, prior to Louis’ interruption, had been sleeping.
Louis smiled thinly, and only cocked his head, waiting patiently.
‘Oh no…no sir I have not called your name at all this night. I have left you in the privacy that you have ordered; like you asked.’
The fatigue was filled within his eyes, glazing it over with a thin, glassy layer. Louis shrugged, bringing the door together with the wall, before swinging it open again.
The gentleman had only then tried to slide down the wall to his rump for another go at slumber when he jumped back up, eyes boggled.
‘I…’
His head shook, eyes closing loosely as he smiled and shut the door finally, the man breathing heavily, deciding then to stay en guard.
Louis was, for the moment distracted with the man who stood on his post outside, yet resorted back to his previous dilemma, and was very perturbed now by the same calling, coming from below his balcony.
He, at first, hesitated to approach the ledge and look out, though figured other wise, seeing that the darkness would surely shelter him as well as that who attempted to frighten him from any visual contact. Sliding from the door to the railing, he placed both hands on the golden bar and leaned forwards slightly.
‘Hello Louis.’
Below him, though close enough to rub noses with, Louis visually saw a clouded figure in black staring up to him, cloaked in material that seemed wispy, like looking at colored air.
Louis fell backwards, no yell audible, but fear had surely taken old of him. He fell to his rump, hands looking frantically for something to throw, but nothing was about. The figure chuckled, and slide onto the balcony floor, a tall silhouette of a man it seemed stood before Louis, still covered in black wisp.
‘I have come to speak with you. A spirit, Louis, do you believe in spirits?’
Honestly, Louis couldn’t say if he believed in Shakespeare right now, even if he was asked, for what just occurred seemed totally unnatural. His imagination could handle this, but his being was completely distorted with confusion.
‘G-Good…Good Si-‘
‘Oh Louis, do you truly think a man could harm me? Do you know what I am Louis?’
‘How do you know my name? Who are you? What—no. I do not know what you are, tell me at once or—or…’
His voice did not catch, or Louis would never say it did for he was suddenly at a loss of words. The dark figure continued to stare blankly, waiting patiently before continuing.
‘Have you finished?’
Louis nodded, solemnly.
‘I see, well Louis. I know who you are, though I only know the basics of your being. You do not know what I am, for I am not like what you are, Louis. I am a Deag’mere, and I’ve come to offer you something, very precious. Louis, again, I question you. Do you believe in spirits?’
Did he believe? He wasn’t sure. Up to this moment, he had never thought of spirits or any of those things. Possibly, he did not believe in them…for they never came to mind.
He shook his head, sliding backwards more; weary of every coiling movement made by this figure.
The figure seemed shocked, moving back as well, running it’s darkness against the rim of the balcony.
‘Why, such a creative soul like yourself!? Not believing in spirits and demons alike? I am shocked. Profoundly. Nonetheless…something is in need of your care. After the performance, come to the alleyway entrance where you came through prior to our meeting, there I shall speak further with you.’
Quickly, as if from a dream, the air was cleared of the opaque creature, its existence not even recognizable anymore.
The lights had already begun to brighten the hall, and as this was done, the audience stood and began a thunderous applaud, the performers standing on the stage, bowing graciously. Louis climbed to his feet, looking over the balcony and striving to visualize Ramóna, who stood in a gleaming white dress, covered now with honoring red roses. She was a vision of beauty, and smiled and laughed and went on with the performers as they slipped back behind the velvet curtain, and disappeared from sight.
The man guarding the door opened it now, a rush of those from other, near by balconies moving swiftly down the corridor and into the main lobby. Louis turned, clearly weak by the occurrence.
‘Sir, are you quite alright? I heard a thump, but did not wish to disturb. Shall you be leaving now?’
Louis watched, eyes empty so it seemed, a moist appearance taking over his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head.
‘No, no I will stay here for a while. Please, go on…I will be fine.’
The man shrugged, nodding and regarding Louis’ wishes with a closing of the door.
Louis was mentally dismantled by the figure still, and wondered how long exactly was it that the figure stood before him, horrifying him to no point of stabilizing, it seemed.
What was he to do?
Slinking back in the chair, he rubbed his temples wearily, shutting blue eyes into darkness. What was he to do, what was he to do.
A chill ran through his spine once more, like the tapping of a hand, and as he turned suddenly, sharply, he saw nothing but the curtain that draped the balcony, hiding those inside it. It moved gently, only because the air condition conked on at this time.
‘Calm yourself Louis. There is nothing out there in this world to get you…other then your enemy writers…’
He chuckled, lifting out of the chair and gathering his coat, slipping it onto his arms and buttoning it quickly.
Slipping out into the hallway was easy, unlike the other adventures to the theater, where he would try his best to leave with time to run back stage with the performers, but today was different, and as he walked down the mellow, yellow hall, he felt that same chill run over him, just guiding him this way and that, leading him to the stair case.
It took moments for Louis to realize the usher from before stood, waiting for Louis to just barge on out of the doors, attempting to make an escape at all costs. His old, decrepit eyes moved across the crowd, so accustomed to the herd of people that picking out those he wished became a simple task, like brushing one’s teeth.
Louis sighed, moving opposite from the direction of the exit, and towards the back door, where he knew he would confront whatever had spoken to him early. He dreaded it, but walked on, eyes focused on the path ahead of him.
So much so that it missed the sweet melody of words, as they called out to him from the distance. Ramóna waved her arms, knowing Louis’ steps anywhere and running down the corridor with such determination it seemed as if she were simply an ordinary girl with the capacity to see every color of the rainbow.
Louis heard nothing, only soaked in his fear, and as he turned into the door that had the tiny, barred window, Ramóna was snatched aside by an old, haggard woman. She was quickly scolded for running, told to change for they were leaving as soon as the clock struck one, and would leave her behind if it meant she was not to finish on time.
The walk way seemed to last forever as he watched it from the door that shut tightly behind him. The light was covered by his head, and so the cloudy darkness kept his vision at zero.
It was no matter, however, for a voice called again in the blackness.
Louis…Louis you’ve come, so proud of you I am.
Louis quivered, looking about aimlessly, worried of what was to become of him.
‘Louis. I am so proud of you indeed. Please come forwards, I must whisper to you from your distance.’
Fearful as he was, Louis took a step, knowing full well that a scream from him could be heard instantly through the thin door behind him. There was little need to worry…
Correct?
‘Yes, good, stay there. As I told you Louis, I have something that needs caring, something vital to your world…something so vital.’
The voice held out each word like an echo, and spoke slow, just as one would speak to a child. Louis shuddered.
‘Yes…You want me to care for something. What—how…who….’
‘Questions, Questions, Questions. You humans ask far too much of others. Please, do not question me, for this is possibly the last of me you will ever see. Just understand that this that I give to you is not something to take lightly. You must show as much devotion for this as you do your writing, for it will not harm myself, but you as well.’
Louis cocked his head, eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness.
‘What…do you mean, harm me? Will I become a dead man with whatever it is you give me? Why should I trust…you? A thing I know nothing of, know no name, and know no real knowledge that you truly are there?’
The figure fell silent, and for a long while Louis truly thought it was only his imagination. He chuckled to himself, before catching it in his throat as something moved past him.
‘Seeing, is believing Louis…’
The voice rumbled near his ear, moving every soft, peach fuzz within it.
‘Do you believe in a god? The earth? Spirits?’
By this point, Louis wasn’t even capable of thinking, much less believing, and merely nodded his head in recognition. This wasn’t a dream, he had summed.
The figure did not seem pleased with this, and yet continued.
‘Louis. I have no time for you, nor this, just understand I give you this in hopes you will understand. Now, this is not mine, nor was it ever, this is yours…like a child. Care for it.’
A hand slipped around Louis’ waist. The gentle touch so enticing, alluring, almost seductive. Louis slunk back slightly, his body feeling weak instantly. It was the magic of a ghouls touch, and even if it meant no sexual attention, it contained every drop of every desire a human could ever want.
His knee’s broke slightly, body quivering as the hand slipped another hand about the hips, placing something alive near Louis’ gut.
’This, Louis, is what you will care for.’
Within that moment, everything seemed to disappear. The silence that had enwrapped him was gone, and movement from behind him became more audible. He glanced around, not aware of what rest in his hand, and felt a sense of bewilderment fall over him.
A gentle coo was made from the object he snuggled close to his chest, a murmur from a blanketed baby, wrapped tightly with white cloth. A dark skinned child with tightly shut eyes, freckled features and plump lips squirmed in its slumber, the body recoiling against the warmth of Louis’ stomach.
He brought it closer to his face, eyes straining to see through the light of the window, and simply breathed into the face of the youngster, the cold seeping through its body.
The child awoke, green eyes flooding his vision, brilliant and glowing as they were. Her baby face plumped, cheeks growing thick with a soft smile that formed on her lips. The blush on her face was illuminant, and as she chuckled in that child like fashion, Louis smiled and chuckled in return.
What it was that came over Louis, he wasn’t sure. His reason to work this much harder on his writing seemed to be what thrilled him the most—the child inspired him. His lips puckered, and lowered to the babies face, kisses planted on each cheek and lightly upon the tiny, button nose, before steps were taken towards the alley door. Hastily, from there, Louis walked home, not planning on detouring this night, or any to come.
Ramóna heard his speaking, through the door she had heard him chatter with himself, as if he spoke to another, and finally she heard the chuckle of a child. Jealously filled her, and quickly she opened the door and stumbled into the darkness of the hall, eyes not capable of seeing even the slightest of figures.
’Louis! Louis! Are you here my dear? Louis?’ She stumbled in the darkness, alone, and quietly sobbing to herself. Her love seemed to dwindle, for the laughter of a child meant Louis’ heart belonged to another.
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 2:29 pm
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Posted: Sat Nov 18, 2006 2:31 pm
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Posted: Thu Nov 23, 2006 9:42 pm
Both stories are up, (before and now) so if you'd like, you can read them! I do warn you though, on Word, the second story comes out to be 10 pages. Though I really enjoyed writing it, so reading it and telling me what you think sure would make my day.
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Posted: Thu Nov 23, 2006 10:30 pm
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Posted: Tue Jan 02, 2007 4:48 pm
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