Fun fact, I'm not dead! Sorry for not posting, I've been busy-busy with school things. There's also the fact that I might not be graded for this that might be the main reason why I'm so lax on my posting now. Heh.
Anyway, I've been faring well, just a tad bit drowsy from some medicine I took last night. Jeez, I'm probably past out on the keyboard if this continues.
Curse the flowers and the increasing dust in my room. Curse them!
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Crystal Cave - Exerpt
“Abel, grab your mother some medicine. You know, the pink pills?” His mother calls from the kitchen. Abel nods obediently, treading over the wooden planks and following the white paint into the sparkling bathroom. He could smell the bleach evaporating from the room’s pores and it was mixed with the acidity that came from the freshly painted walls. The room was filled with the sense of nervousness and uncertainty, as if it disliked the taste of the newness that surrounded its insides.
Abel opened the medicine cabinet. He scanned over the yellow bottles with white caps and read through the gibberish and randomly placed letters to find one specific pattern. In bold, roman letters, LITHIUM could be read. Abel opened it, making sure the pink pills were pink, as mother had said. When it was deemed the truth, he closed the bottle and clutched it tightly in his palm. He walked over the wooden planks and followed the white paint back to his mother. He could feel her tremors from where he was, and hurried to her side.
As he approached the kitchen with a silent anxiety welling in his stomach, he poked his head through the door. He saw his mother curled on the floor; her entire body shaking. Abel could feel the perspiration falling from his brow as a new sense of fear replaced his anxiety. However, knowing his duty far too well, he shed his cowardly skin and placed a courageous facade. He walked slowly towards his mother, and he bent down to hand her the pink medicine. When he was giving the medicine to her, she immediately stood up and towered over him. He sweated as she opened her mouth to speak.
“What are you doing in my clean kitchen? Out, out you go!” She screeched. He yelped and placed the medicine on the counter before turning around to flee. The woman had yelled after him, but didn’t bother to follow as his feet carried him upstairs to his shared room with his older, twin brother.
Abel opened the medicine cabinet. He scanned over the yellow bottles with white caps and read through the gibberish and randomly placed letters to find one specific pattern. In bold, roman letters, LITHIUM could be read. Abel opened it, making sure the pink pills were pink, as mother had said. When it was deemed the truth, he closed the bottle and clutched it tightly in his palm. He walked over the wooden planks and followed the white paint back to his mother. He could feel her tremors from where he was, and hurried to her side.
As he approached the kitchen with a silent anxiety welling in his stomach, he poked his head through the door. He saw his mother curled on the floor; her entire body shaking. Abel could feel the perspiration falling from his brow as a new sense of fear replaced his anxiety. However, knowing his duty far too well, he shed his cowardly skin and placed a courageous facade. He walked slowly towards his mother, and he bent down to hand her the pink medicine. When he was giving the medicine to her, she immediately stood up and towered over him. He sweated as she opened her mouth to speak.
“What are you doing in my clean kitchen? Out, out you go!” She screeched. He yelped and placed the medicine on the counter before turning around to flee. The woman had yelled after him, but didn’t bother to follow as his feet carried him upstairs to his shared room with his older, twin brother.
Monday, April 20, 2015
Blood Red - Excerpt II
She jumped over roots and dodged branches as the pit of her stomach hissed with rage. All she could see was her namesake when she darted towards the end of her grandmother’s territory. As Red ran to the end, she caught sight of a opening to a cave. It was tall and gray with ambiguous intentions, harboring a criminal in its silent caves. She bit back a growl and ran inside, unsheathing her sword.
She was about to yell, but remembered that she had given the Witch her voice. In fuming silence, she walked deeper into the cave. As she walked, the darker and darker the cave became. When the cave was completely covered in darkness, that’s when she heard it; a wolf’s howl.
She gripped her sword tighter, keeping it close to her left. Her right hand went to the wall as she followed the sounds. The closer the noises were in her ears, the more light began brimming the edges of her eyesight. When her hand had lost the safety of the wall, she was greeted with a hole. Red kneeled to look what was outside of the entrance.
Scanning the area, she saw the grey tuff that only belonged to Big Bad. She gritted her teeth as she watched his shoulders move, devouring his dinner. She slowly moved out of the hole and kept her sword from hitting the floor. As she was climbing out, Red heard the beast growl. Cursing inwardly, she quickly rushed to hide behind a heap of bones, shifting her weapon to both of her hands. As the enlarged wolf sniff and growl, the girl kept her breaths short. This was all in vain as Big Bad smashed her porcelain cover.
She was about to yell, but remembered that she had given the Witch her voice. In fuming silence, she walked deeper into the cave. As she walked, the darker and darker the cave became. When the cave was completely covered in darkness, that’s when she heard it; a wolf’s howl.
She gripped her sword tighter, keeping it close to her left. Her right hand went to the wall as she followed the sounds. The closer the noises were in her ears, the more light began brimming the edges of her eyesight. When her hand had lost the safety of the wall, she was greeted with a hole. Red kneeled to look what was outside of the entrance.
Scanning the area, she saw the grey tuff that only belonged to Big Bad. She gritted her teeth as she watched his shoulders move, devouring his dinner. She slowly moved out of the hole and kept her sword from hitting the floor. As she was climbing out, Red heard the beast growl. Cursing inwardly, she quickly rushed to hide behind a heap of bones, shifting her weapon to both of her hands. As the enlarged wolf sniff and growl, the girl kept her breaths short. This was all in vain as Big Bad smashed her porcelain cover.
Friday, April 17, 2015
April 17th, 2015
Good morning one and all! Or afternoon, or evening. Whichever suits your fancy.
Anyway, I am here to tell you about the thing that created the blog; my creative writing class! It is finished and we're moving into the 4th quarter, meaning the end of the school year.
Now, I mean, even after this class is done, I'm still probably going to continue this blog. Maybe open up a tumblr for my art and literature, even. It seems interesting enough, but I'm probably just going to stick to this. For you guys, I'm pretty sure I can do it.
Anyway, I am here to tell you about the thing that created the blog; my creative writing class! It is finished and we're moving into the 4th quarter, meaning the end of the school year.
Now, I mean, even after this class is done, I'm still probably going to continue this blog. Maybe open up a tumblr for my art and literature, even. It seems interesting enough, but I'm probably just going to stick to this. For you guys, I'm pretty sure I can do it.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Number of Ways Poem
Seven Ways of Looking at Dice
I
Within calloused hands
and sweaty palms,
folded over each other
in a sense of
desperation.
II
To the greedy and the sinful,
the transparent cubes
covered in dots
were their savior
soon to be robber.
III
To a family of four
across the table, a board
decorated in designs and
colors. Dice in chubby hands.
The word
Jinx
floats in the air,
wordless as the cubes fall
to the board
and jump to life.
IV
For a crossroad of fates,
dripping in
perspiration and tears.
Hope is alive
within their shared gazes.
V
“Why did you bring dice?”
She would ask me every day.
“Something for when the rain comes.”
I replied, not wanting to
talk to her about
bright lights and the smoky air.
VI
The Cheater’s Dice are concealed
under cups. And when
the game had started,
the cups moved too quickly
for the player’s eyes
to catch the dice
hidden
within his sleeve.
VII
The only souvenir
that he brought back with him
was a pair of dice
engraved with her name.
She rolls with abandoned purpose,
waiting on that white
tiled
floor.
I
Within calloused hands
and sweaty palms,
folded over each other
in a sense of
desperation.
II
To the greedy and the sinful,
the transparent cubes
covered in dots
were their savior
soon to be robber.
III
To a family of four
across the table, a board
decorated in designs and
colors. Dice in chubby hands.
The word
Jinx
floats in the air,
wordless as the cubes fall
to the board
and jump to life.
IV
For a crossroad of fates,
dripping in
perspiration and tears.
Hope is alive
within their shared gazes.
V
“Why did you bring dice?”
She would ask me every day.
“Something for when the rain comes.”
I replied, not wanting to
talk to her about
bright lights and the smoky air.
VI
The Cheater’s Dice are concealed
under cups. And when
the game had started,
the cups moved too quickly
for the player’s eyes
to catch the dice
hidden
within his sleeve.
VII
The only souvenir
that he brought back with him
was a pair of dice
engraved with her name.
She rolls with abandoned purpose,
waiting on that white
tiled
floor.
Horror Story - Exerpt
In a far time and a far place, there was once a quaint town. In this town, was a forest called the Schlack Wald. Said forest was heavily feared by the residents and many adults had warned their children of the malevolent spirits looming in that area. Every child was told, except for Little Boy Barry.
Little Boy Barry was but the age of twelve. Yet, for his age, he had encountered many travesties. By the age of three he had become motherless due to a thick plague of disease. Then, he was left fatherless two years after because of cowardice. He was then situated in a small orphanage that was utterly horrible for a weak boy such as he. However, Little Boy Barry was determined to continue on, for he was solemn that it would be the correct thing to do. However, the other children made it difficult to keep that ideal. Many jeered him for his parentless state, or on his small frame and slow uptake on conversations. The children were ruthless to Little Boy Barry, but Little Boy Barry was foolish to forgive them every time.
The most interesting part of the tale of this boy begins when the children had one day decided to play a trick on the poor child. They had called out to him in the town plaza one day and ask him to fetch an apple from one of the stalls with some money they gave him. The poor boy didn’t know what he was getting into, and accepted the quest.
Little Boy Barry walked through the marketplace to see that there were no such apples in the area. He was fearful that if he didn’t complete the job, the children would not accept him. So he continue on, this time he asked around for apples for the quite heavy bag. Unfortunately, no one possessed such things. So, he walked back empty-handed and head down in shame.
The children, of course, knew of this, but still scowled at him in rage. They looked at the pitiful boy in a condescending stare, before they huddled up and seemed to be discussing. Little Boy Barry could only watch as they whispered in soft voices.
In those whispers, one boy had said, “What should we give him as punishment?” quite loudly. Little Boy Barry shivered to think of a greater punishment than the last (it consisted of being in wet clothes for an entirety of a week, dreadful it was) and twiddled his thumbs and he continued to listen.
A girl had whispered, at the same volume as the boy. “Maybe we should let him roam about with only a dress and take him to the drunks!” She giggled playfully. Barry didn’t like that option either, he thought with a shiver.
“No.” The leader boy had chimed in. “Why don’t we let him find apples in the forest.” He said with a grin. Barry had thought none of it at the time, and failed to see the relevance of it. However, before he could hear their agreement, the leader had walked to him in a steady face.
“Alright Barry,” He said with a smug grin. “I have deemed you worthy of redemption. Therefore, your new task is to find apples in the forest at the edge of town.”
Little Boy Barry was a bit curious to the task, so he asked, “Why in the forest at the edge of town?” The leader had frowned.
“No questions!” The boy had said in a growl. Barry had yelped and back away a little, shriveling in his boots.
“Right!” He managed to stumble out. “No questions! Get apples from the forest! I got it!” The other children silently giggled from behind the taller boy in front of him. Little Boy Barry chose to ignore it and start walking, or, more like jogging to the forest before the other boy had called to him again.
“Don’t come back until you get us that apple, you hear?!” Barry had called out something that wasn’t that audible and rushed into the slender trees.
Little Boy Barry was but the age of twelve. Yet, for his age, he had encountered many travesties. By the age of three he had become motherless due to a thick plague of disease. Then, he was left fatherless two years after because of cowardice. He was then situated in a small orphanage that was utterly horrible for a weak boy such as he. However, Little Boy Barry was determined to continue on, for he was solemn that it would be the correct thing to do. However, the other children made it difficult to keep that ideal. Many jeered him for his parentless state, or on his small frame and slow uptake on conversations. The children were ruthless to Little Boy Barry, but Little Boy Barry was foolish to forgive them every time.
The most interesting part of the tale of this boy begins when the children had one day decided to play a trick on the poor child. They had called out to him in the town plaza one day and ask him to fetch an apple from one of the stalls with some money they gave him. The poor boy didn’t know what he was getting into, and accepted the quest.
Little Boy Barry walked through the marketplace to see that there were no such apples in the area. He was fearful that if he didn’t complete the job, the children would not accept him. So he continue on, this time he asked around for apples for the quite heavy bag. Unfortunately, no one possessed such things. So, he walked back empty-handed and head down in shame.
The children, of course, knew of this, but still scowled at him in rage. They looked at the pitiful boy in a condescending stare, before they huddled up and seemed to be discussing. Little Boy Barry could only watch as they whispered in soft voices.
In those whispers, one boy had said, “What should we give him as punishment?” quite loudly. Little Boy Barry shivered to think of a greater punishment than the last (it consisted of being in wet clothes for an entirety of a week, dreadful it was) and twiddled his thumbs and he continued to listen.
A girl had whispered, at the same volume as the boy. “Maybe we should let him roam about with only a dress and take him to the drunks!” She giggled playfully. Barry didn’t like that option either, he thought with a shiver.
“No.” The leader boy had chimed in. “Why don’t we let him find apples in the forest.” He said with a grin. Barry had thought none of it at the time, and failed to see the relevance of it. However, before he could hear their agreement, the leader had walked to him in a steady face.
“Alright Barry,” He said with a smug grin. “I have deemed you worthy of redemption. Therefore, your new task is to find apples in the forest at the edge of town.”
Little Boy Barry was a bit curious to the task, so he asked, “Why in the forest at the edge of town?” The leader had frowned.
“No questions!” The boy had said in a growl. Barry had yelped and back away a little, shriveling in his boots.
“Right!” He managed to stumble out. “No questions! Get apples from the forest! I got it!” The other children silently giggled from behind the taller boy in front of him. Little Boy Barry chose to ignore it and start walking, or, more like jogging to the forest before the other boy had called to him again.
“Don’t come back until you get us that apple, you hear?!” Barry had called out something that wasn’t that audible and rushed into the slender trees.
Monday, April 13, 2015
April 13th, 2015
IT'S GOING TO BE 76 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT WHEN I LEAVE THE SCHOOL OH MY GOSH THIS IS AMAZING.
Ahem, pardon my excitement. See, I live pretty far north and we have totally crazy weather. Like, in early April, it was snowing. Snowing. But now!!! It's!!! Sunny!!! And actually!!! Warm!!!
Life is great.
Ahem, pardon my excitement. See, I live pretty far north and we have totally crazy weather. Like, in early April, it was snowing. Snowing. But now!!! It's!!! Sunny!!! And actually!!! Warm!!!
Life is great.
Blood Red - Excerpt
Red readied herself to slam her shoulder on the wooden door. As she retracted, her muscles tensed and she ran to it again. The saying “third time’s the charm” seemed to apply to her case as the wooden door shot back and opened.
The hooded girl immediately grasped at the hilt of her sword, eyes darting to and fro around the entrance before stepping inside. She stood in the room for a moment, examining for anymore signs of strangeness. Red frowned when she noticed marks on the floor. She bended down, touching the scars gingerly.
The girl straightened herself and quietly walked deeper into the quiet house. She turned doors, looked under tables and flipped open cupboards. However, there was no sign of her grandmother. When she was finished searching the house, careful not to touch things with her bare hands, sirens were in the distance. At the sound, Red poked her head out of the window to watch as the blur of red and blue flooded the forest’s natural dark green and eerie brown.
As they pulled up, the girl walked out with a slow stride. As the police pulled out of their cars, she bended down to talk to the chief, Detective Gumshoe. The detective was about half her height and was adorable with his new seasonal coat and was coated in the pink of his land. The bear was adorable in all ways but one, his face was stern and tired for all the hourless nights he has to stay up for.
He greeted her with a nod. “Red, what’s goin’ on?” He mumbled, taking a puff out of his cigar. Red ignored the dreadful smell and pointed at her grandmother’s house. He said with a raised eyebrow, “Witch stole your voice again?”
Red nodded, but furrowed her eyebrows at him. Though he had no business in her life, there were more impending problems than a little town gossip. She forced his small head to the wooden cottage, pointing her hand to it with as much of a serious face her permanently neutral one could muster.
“Alright, alright!” He growled, trying to shake her hands off. “Your granny’s missin’ again, huh?”
She nodded, furrowing her eyebrows again. He seemed very nonchalant about the whole situation. She tilted her head at him, raising an eyebrow in the process.
“Hm? What’s got your dress in a twist?” She frowned. “Okay, okay. Just joshin’. You probably think I’m being too nonchalant about this, right?” She nodded. “Well, here’s the thing kid, your granny tends to go “missing” a lot. I’m sure she’s just visiting the fairies or somethin’.” Red frowned, picking the bear up.
He growled and snapped at her, yelling and screeching something about his rights. Red rolled her eyes, stomping back inside the wooden home. The detective went quiet as she walked into her grandmother’s room.
The hooded girl immediately grasped at the hilt of her sword, eyes darting to and fro around the entrance before stepping inside. She stood in the room for a moment, examining for anymore signs of strangeness. Red frowned when she noticed marks on the floor. She bended down, touching the scars gingerly.
The girl straightened herself and quietly walked deeper into the quiet house. She turned doors, looked under tables and flipped open cupboards. However, there was no sign of her grandmother. When she was finished searching the house, careful not to touch things with her bare hands, sirens were in the distance. At the sound, Red poked her head out of the window to watch as the blur of red and blue flooded the forest’s natural dark green and eerie brown.
As they pulled up, the girl walked out with a slow stride. As the police pulled out of their cars, she bended down to talk to the chief, Detective Gumshoe. The detective was about half her height and was adorable with his new seasonal coat and was coated in the pink of his land. The bear was adorable in all ways but one, his face was stern and tired for all the hourless nights he has to stay up for.
He greeted her with a nod. “Red, what’s goin’ on?” He mumbled, taking a puff out of his cigar. Red ignored the dreadful smell and pointed at her grandmother’s house. He said with a raised eyebrow, “Witch stole your voice again?”
Red nodded, but furrowed her eyebrows at him. Though he had no business in her life, there were more impending problems than a little town gossip. She forced his small head to the wooden cottage, pointing her hand to it with as much of a serious face her permanently neutral one could muster.
“Alright, alright!” He growled, trying to shake her hands off. “Your granny’s missin’ again, huh?”
She nodded, furrowing her eyebrows again. He seemed very nonchalant about the whole situation. She tilted her head at him, raising an eyebrow in the process.
“Hm? What’s got your dress in a twist?” She frowned. “Okay, okay. Just joshin’. You probably think I’m being too nonchalant about this, right?” She nodded. “Well, here’s the thing kid, your granny tends to go “missing” a lot. I’m sure she’s just visiting the fairies or somethin’.” Red frowned, picking the bear up.
He growled and snapped at her, yelling and screeching something about his rights. Red rolled her eyes, stomping back inside the wooden home. The detective went quiet as she walked into her grandmother’s room.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
April 12th, 2015
You know, I've been thinking a lot about life. (Shocker, right?) And I'm really thinking about how human nature works as in, if human nature was a toy, what would it be like?
I honestly don't know how to really think about it without filling half of the blog of theories, ramblings, and sentences that even I wouldn't understand.
It's just... A really strange thought to think about human nature as an entity, and why is human nature so vile in certain ways and accepted in others.
Like, people accept that people can be kind. However, when that kindness resembles something humans are entitled to themselves (selfishness, greediness, lust, etc.) people attack that and say how vile that person is for allowing themselves to be... well, human.
I really don't understand why humans are like the way they are. Yet, there are people who make so many excuses for the things they do. It's like a murderer saying that they're just sick in the head; that they should be excused for their actions. But there's that undeniable fact that they still killed a person, and nothing is going to bring their victim back.
Humanity is scary, and it's so strange to see humanity's true nature in front of your eyes.
I honestly don't know how to really think about it without filling half of the blog of theories, ramblings, and sentences that even I wouldn't understand.
It's just... A really strange thought to think about human nature as an entity, and why is human nature so vile in certain ways and accepted in others.
Like, people accept that people can be kind. However, when that kindness resembles something humans are entitled to themselves (selfishness, greediness, lust, etc.) people attack that and say how vile that person is for allowing themselves to be... well, human.
I really don't understand why humans are like the way they are. Yet, there are people who make so many excuses for the things they do. It's like a murderer saying that they're just sick in the head; that they should be excused for their actions. But there's that undeniable fact that they still killed a person, and nothing is going to bring their victim back.
Humanity is scary, and it's so strange to see humanity's true nature in front of your eyes.
Friday, April 10, 2015
Fear of Nothing - Excerpt
The noises and the voices were so overbearing that it practically burst decibel levels. The forest was talking, so rapidly and so softly that the words flowed into Persephone’s head. Most of it was gibberish, but she made three words.
Party. Fiends. Time.
Persephone shuddered at the last drawled out word. She clasped her hands over her ears as it was the best way she knew to block these repetitive words. In the dark of her room, it was her only comfort.
Happiness is fiction. Fiction is imaginary. Imagination is life. Life is terrifying. Party to death. Party to death!
The phrases were strange to Persephone's ears. ”How strange those words are.” She sat up from her bed, feeling her body flinch as her eyes searched around the darkness. “But it is stranger to fear the dark.”
The eight year old was no stranger to fear. She found Fear itself as a dumb imaginary force inflicted on children for its own sick fun. She refused to be seen as a child with fears, but here she was being influenced by them.
Party to Death! Death is Partying! Party! Party! Party!
Shut up. She thought bitterly. Persephone was already tired of these voices that echoed into her head. She knew the new house was strange, but she hadn’t expected harsh voices that cheered every night. They cheered every night until the sun rose, as if they were preparing something.
The girl lifted her feet to the edge of the bed. She had to go to one of her sisters’ rooms to ease her worries. She stood straight as her feet touched the floor.
The wooden floor was chilly, but Persephone’s bare feet could handle gliding over them. She walked along the floorboards, each of her steps patting along to the wood. With a quiet breath, she twisted the doorknob and opened the door. Outside was even darker, the walls and floors illuminated with a blue glow.
Persephone shivered when a gust of wind blew under her nightgown. The temperature between the hallway and her room were vastly different. Persephone continued on, searching around the halls.
It always had been a habit of hers, wandering around the house during nighttime. Her phobia of the dark, nyctophobia, was strange. If she focused on something else, she could ignore her constricting stomach, the spread of Fear.
With quiet noise that came from the collision between flesh and waxed wood, Persephone put one foot after the other in silence. The young girl had to walk further before she could get to one of her sisters, but nothing could get stop Fear from following right behind her.
She flinched. “Why do you run?” The shadows crept and crawled on her feet. “What use is it to try and ignore? Face me.” Its voice rose. “Face me!” It screeched. She was scared, she was really scared.
She had hoped it would stop crawling her feet as she fasten her pace.
Then Persephone heard a slam and she ran. Her eyes filled with water and her stomach boiled. She made a sharp turn at the first corner before turning around.
There behind her, the shadows had become something else. Before she could make out what the shadows were turning into, Persephone’s fear had spiked and she made way to go up some stairs. Before she knew it, she closed the door connecting the hallway to the attic.
Party. Fiends. Time.
Persephone shuddered at the last drawled out word. She clasped her hands over her ears as it was the best way she knew to block these repetitive words. In the dark of her room, it was her only comfort.
Happiness is fiction. Fiction is imaginary. Imagination is life. Life is terrifying. Party to death. Party to death!
The phrases were strange to Persephone's ears. ”How strange those words are.” She sat up from her bed, feeling her body flinch as her eyes searched around the darkness. “But it is stranger to fear the dark.”
The eight year old was no stranger to fear. She found Fear itself as a dumb imaginary force inflicted on children for its own sick fun. She refused to be seen as a child with fears, but here she was being influenced by them.
Party to Death! Death is Partying! Party! Party! Party!
Shut up. She thought bitterly. Persephone was already tired of these voices that echoed into her head. She knew the new house was strange, but she hadn’t expected harsh voices that cheered every night. They cheered every night until the sun rose, as if they were preparing something.
The girl lifted her feet to the edge of the bed. She had to go to one of her sisters’ rooms to ease her worries. She stood straight as her feet touched the floor.
The wooden floor was chilly, but Persephone’s bare feet could handle gliding over them. She walked along the floorboards, each of her steps patting along to the wood. With a quiet breath, she twisted the doorknob and opened the door. Outside was even darker, the walls and floors illuminated with a blue glow.
Persephone shivered when a gust of wind blew under her nightgown. The temperature between the hallway and her room were vastly different. Persephone continued on, searching around the halls.
It always had been a habit of hers, wandering around the house during nighttime. Her phobia of the dark, nyctophobia, was strange. If she focused on something else, she could ignore her constricting stomach, the spread of Fear.
With quiet noise that came from the collision between flesh and waxed wood, Persephone put one foot after the other in silence. The young girl had to walk further before she could get to one of her sisters, but nothing could get stop Fear from following right behind her.
She flinched. “Why do you run?” The shadows crept and crawled on her feet. “What use is it to try and ignore? Face me.” Its voice rose. “Face me!” It screeched. She was scared, she was really scared.
She had hoped it would stop crawling her feet as she fasten her pace.
Then Persephone heard a slam and she ran. Her eyes filled with water and her stomach boiled. She made a sharp turn at the first corner before turning around.
There behind her, the shadows had become something else. Before she could make out what the shadows were turning into, Persephone’s fear had spiked and she made way to go up some stairs. Before she knew it, she closed the door connecting the hallway to the attic.
Thursday, April 9, 2015
Sestina Poem
Set In Stone
A grand stand for a pyramid of cards
stumbling and twitching like
the little sliver of life.
Yet, it will still stand
tall as she crosses
little cards like legs.
The tiny little legs
tremble as she lifts up a card
for another row. Which crosses
over the blue backs, like
a king’s stand.
The pyramid would last such a short life,
but that doesn’t deter her away from creating its life.
With those little legs,
and with that king’s stand,
the cards, like the Emperor card,
can be more than what fate tells. Like
a pharaoh king bearing his crosses.
The arms of a pharaoh that bears his crosses
is where the girl’s life
intertwines. As if she is like
the pharaoh; her legs
wrapped together and imprisoned just as the face in the king's card.
Yet, she remains unphased. The royal’s stand
is still high above all, the stand
is still bowed to, still decorated with crosses;
nothing changed. Just as the king’s card,
her influence will be set in stone. The pyramid is the anchor in life,
dragging her down with the tiny legs
that hold the white pyramid like
her own. It’s like
her imagination wants the stand
of the king so that her tiny legs
are not so tiny. That the crosses
in her hands can really give life
to something as simple as a card.
The tarot cards in her hands are like
life where there is only one stand
for one king that bear his crosses and stands tall on his legs.
A grand stand for a pyramid of cards
stumbling and twitching like
the little sliver of life.
Yet, it will still stand
tall as she crosses
little cards like legs.
The tiny little legs
tremble as she lifts up a card
for another row. Which crosses
over the blue backs, like
a king’s stand.
The pyramid would last such a short life,
but that doesn’t deter her away from creating its life.
With those little legs,
and with that king’s stand,
the cards, like the Emperor card,
can be more than what fate tells. Like
a pharaoh king bearing his crosses.
The arms of a pharaoh that bears his crosses
is where the girl’s life
intertwines. As if she is like
the pharaoh; her legs
wrapped together and imprisoned just as the face in the king's card.
Yet, she remains unphased. The royal’s stand
is still high above all, the stand
is still bowed to, still decorated with crosses;
nothing changed. Just as the king’s card,
her influence will be set in stone. The pyramid is the anchor in life,
dragging her down with the tiny legs
that hold the white pyramid like
her own. It’s like
her imagination wants the stand
of the king so that her tiny legs
are not so tiny. That the crosses
in her hands can really give life
to something as simple as a card.
The tarot cards in her hands are like
life where there is only one stand
for one king that bear his crosses and stands tall on his legs.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015
A Haiku
Because I feel a bit of a poet today.
-
scarred hands—
My grandfather
chops the duck head off
-
scarred hands—
My grandfather
chops the duck head off
Reincarnation
(the sequel of The Suffering Body)
I pick up the book
gingerly;
sweetly.
Words that bring memories
lost in time.
My lips are sore
from the strange words
that I don't want to utter
anymore.
I feel at home,
with this book in hand.
My lips are calm,
not trembling,
not shaking,
no stutters are
present when I speak.
I come back home
to Grandma
and speak with
my found soul.
She laughs,
and I smile too.
I have reborn again
back to the life
I once knew.
I pick up the book
gingerly;
sweetly.
Words that bring memories
lost in time.
My lips are sore
from the strange words
that I don't want to utter
anymore.
I feel at home,
with this book in hand.
My lips are calm,
not trembling,
not shaking,
no stutters are
present when I speak.
I come back home
to Grandma
and speak with
my found soul.
She laughs,
and I smile too.
I have reborn again
back to the life
I once knew.
The Suffering Body
(the sequel of The Curl of Lips)
I speak with shorten sentences,
immediately avoiding "l's" and "r's".
I hate them
so much.
I hate them
because when I speak
I want to cry.
I hate this
I hate this
I hate this
The others joke
and mean nothing to me
but it still hurts
when I realize
I'm an alien
to those that are supposed to be
people who relate to me.
They're horrible,
I'm horrible.
I don't understand Grandma anymore,
forcing her to speak the same
strange and alien
to her aged lips.
I hate this
I hate this
I hate this
But I bear with it
to survive
in a cruel majority.
My lips are tired
but they do not remember
anymore.
I speak with shorten sentences,
immediately avoiding "l's" and "r's".
I hate them
so much.
I hate them
because when I speak
I want to cry.
I hate this
I hate this
I hate this
The others joke
and mean nothing to me
but it still hurts
when I realize
I'm an alien
to those that are supposed to be
people who relate to me.
They're horrible,
I'm horrible.
I don't understand Grandma anymore,
forcing her to speak the same
strange and alien
to her aged lips.
I hate this
I hate this
I hate this
But I bear with it
to survive
in a cruel majority.
My lips are tired
but they do not remember
anymore.
The Curl of Lips
Pearl lips are twitching when
they form new words
that are strange to me.
And when she asks me to repeat,
I can't bear myself to do it.
I feel like a traitor scorned.
I remember my Grandmother
when the woman is pulling at my face,
"Just try to say it,
it's easy, don't you see?"
—is what I understand now
but thought only of monstrous
garble
when the words first evaporated into air.
"Can you say it?
Say your name."
Her hands are off me now.
"I won't laugh; promise."
I curse her in the language
of kings; of me.
She frowns,
the lines of her face
deepening.
"Why are you so shy?"
Why are you so insistent?
Years later,
I regret my choice
in leaving
my soul
behind.
they form new words
that are strange to me.
And when she asks me to repeat,
I can't bear myself to do it.
I feel like a traitor scorned.
I remember my Grandmother
when the woman is pulling at my face,
"Just try to say it,
it's easy, don't you see?"
—is what I understand now
but thought only of monstrous
garble
when the words first evaporated into air.
"Can you say it?
Say your name."
Her hands are off me now.
"I won't laugh; promise."
I curse her in the language
of kings; of me.
She frowns,
the lines of her face
deepening.
"Why are you so shy?"
Why are you so insistent?
Years later,
I regret my choice
in leaving
my soul
behind.
April 7th, 2015
I actually haven't been working on much writing projects, despite my multitask disposition. To be honest, I haven't been really all up and beginning to write something rather than continue one.
In short, I'm still working on the third chapter for Imperial Girl. Woo. I say that with less enthusiasm.
I tried to begin another small short story about accents, as mine is especially strong. I actually wanted to write the difficulties about how weird it is to speak English rather than another, more comfortable language. Perhaps I should write a poem. Yeah, I think I'm going to do that.
Thanks? I guess, since I figured it out while typing this.
In short, I'm still working on the third chapter for Imperial Girl. Woo. I say that with less enthusiasm.
I tried to begin another small short story about accents, as mine is especially strong. I actually wanted to write the difficulties about how weird it is to speak English rather than another, more comfortable language. Perhaps I should write a poem. Yeah, I think I'm going to do that.
Thanks? I guess, since I figured it out while typing this.
Monday, April 6, 2015
April 6th, 2015
Hello, it is school and I am typing this. It is great.
Well, minus the event of outrage of me keeping this blog nice and rambunctious. It's whatever, as I am far down in an apathetic well that I don't really care. Though, I do like to ramble about it for a few minutes.
Sometimes I wonder who I would be without my mother's morals implemented in my brain. Probably the person who would chose politics rather than the science person I am. It's strange, to think of the multi-verse theory and think of how I would become with one single change made.
But really, what choices do we have in life? Humans have a way to escape fate through uses of denial and perception, but what about people such as us who are normal in every way, shape, and form? How do we escape fate with the minimal utilities we are given? Trick answer to the rhetorical question, there is no such answer. The mysteries of life are intertwined and too unpredictable of a realm to delve into; to really understand. It's a process which I think about time to time, but you shouldn't think too much about it.
After all, I am one person of a growing population.
Well, minus the event of outrage of me keeping this blog nice and rambunctious. It's whatever, as I am far down in an apathetic well that I don't really care. Though, I do like to ramble about it for a few minutes.
Sometimes I wonder who I would be without my mother's morals implemented in my brain. Probably the person who would chose politics rather than the science person I am. It's strange, to think of the multi-verse theory and think of how I would become with one single change made.
But really, what choices do we have in life? Humans have a way to escape fate through uses of denial and perception, but what about people such as us who are normal in every way, shape, and form? How do we escape fate with the minimal utilities we are given? Trick answer to the rhetorical question, there is no such answer. The mysteries of life are intertwined and too unpredictable of a realm to delve into; to really understand. It's a process which I think about time to time, but you shouldn't think too much about it.
After all, I am one person of a growing population.
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Adopted - Excerpt
A eleven-year-old Shintaro groaned as he turned around. In front of the doorway was Mary. The petite girl looked at him shyly, holding up a DVD. He rubbed his eyes, bleary from the computer, and motioned for her to come over. She beamed, almost skipping over to where he was and dragging a seat to sit near the computer. Shintaro sighed at her excitement and pressed a button and place the disk in.
As he leaned back, he saw a cold cola pressed against his cheek. He blinked before looking over to his white-haired companion. She was looking away as she held out the cola can and he laughed. He took it from her hands and pressed the spacebar to initiate the video.
“You sure do know how to bribe me.” He laughed and Mary punched him in the arm.
Now that Shintaro was thinking about it, it’s been a couple of years since Mary came to their house. It was around the time when his mother had to get her appendix removed when his dad came into the hospital with the girl on his shoulder. Of course, his mom was currently in surgery and didn’t know of Mary at the time, but Shintaro was sitting in the waiting room. He was astonished that his dad would just save a girl around fourteen years on impulse. However, he didn’t have time to argue as his dad rushed to his mother’s hospital room to give her support.
Momo had been four at the time and was at a sleepover or something while Shintaro was there in place of his father. When he was given Mary he didn’t know what the fuck to do, but just had the girl sleeping on him for most of the time. He figured he would ask questions later.
However, it seemed that even his dad didn’t have any answers. He had replied to Shintaro that she collapsed in the park and the man thought otherwise to leave her in such a state. Shintaro then turned to the girl, Mary, who also had no answers for him. It had irritated him that his family adopted Mary into his family, but now he was her companion and vice versa. She wasn’t like Momo who whined and complained and disliked the time he spent with her. Rather, Mary was a goddess from the heavens that was sent to him in return for giving Momo to him.
Well, not really. Shintaro loves Momo as he loves Mary, but it was just how she was quiet like him. She didn’t press when he didn’t talk, and he didn’t press when she remembered something from her past. They knew each other’s lines and knew very well not to cross it. That was their thing.
As he leaned back, he saw a cold cola pressed against his cheek. He blinked before looking over to his white-haired companion. She was looking away as she held out the cola can and he laughed. He took it from her hands and pressed the spacebar to initiate the video.
“You sure do know how to bribe me.” He laughed and Mary punched him in the arm.
Now that Shintaro was thinking about it, it’s been a couple of years since Mary came to their house. It was around the time when his mother had to get her appendix removed when his dad came into the hospital with the girl on his shoulder. Of course, his mom was currently in surgery and didn’t know of Mary at the time, but Shintaro was sitting in the waiting room. He was astonished that his dad would just save a girl around fourteen years on impulse. However, he didn’t have time to argue as his dad rushed to his mother’s hospital room to give her support.
Momo had been four at the time and was at a sleepover or something while Shintaro was there in place of his father. When he was given Mary he didn’t know what the fuck to do, but just had the girl sleeping on him for most of the time. He figured he would ask questions later.
However, it seemed that even his dad didn’t have any answers. He had replied to Shintaro that she collapsed in the park and the man thought otherwise to leave her in such a state. Shintaro then turned to the girl, Mary, who also had no answers for him. It had irritated him that his family adopted Mary into his family, but now he was her companion and vice versa. She wasn’t like Momo who whined and complained and disliked the time he spent with her. Rather, Mary was a goddess from the heavens that was sent to him in return for giving Momo to him.
Well, not really. Shintaro loves Momo as he loves Mary, but it was just how she was quiet like him. She didn’t press when he didn’t talk, and he didn’t press when she remembered something from her past. They knew each other’s lines and knew very well not to cross it. That was their thing.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
Fireworks - Excerpt
There was noise on the field and I craned my head to look over. Mother was holding to me tightly, her gaze seemed set on the royal family. I held a sigh as I shuffled away from her arms. The fight was almost painful to watch, as the two opponents were hardly right to fight each other. One was a trembling slave that hardly had enough fighting experience. On the other hand was a noble who was smug and surely had enough fighting experience. I walked down the steps to stop the fight, ignoring my mother’s protests.
It seemed I obtained a sufficient amount of gaze as I withdrew a sword from a nearby guard’s sheath. I continued walking towards the fighting duo and entered the stage. I pull off my shoes and heavy robe, letting them fall with a loud “thunk”. It seemed now that I obtained all eyes on my person, and I held a grin.
“Oracle.” The noble bowed down to me. “What is it that you’re doing?” I could practically hear his gritted teeth. I allowed a small smile to my face before having it vanish entirely.
“I’m replacing your opponent.” I walked towards the pair, moving in front of the slave while doing so. “Let’s see how strong you really are.” I laughed and moved into position. The noble’s face morphed into a panic one, but he tried to keep his composure.
“My Lord, don’t you think you should sit this one out. I do not wish to harm you.”
I laughed with a easy gaze. “Relax, I’ve participated in more war campaigns than your years on this earth,” he was twenty-six. “I think I can match my tempo to yours. Now, stop stalling.”
“A-Alright.” I could see his quivers. I sighed inwardly; this wouldn’t be a fun fight.
We clashed at each other, my sure hold on an unfamiliar sword against his shaking grip on a too familiar sword. When he moved right, I lowered myself to counter left. He swung and I caught his attack. He folded over, raising his sword once more. I sighed, flipping my body so my leg would touch the flat of the weapon and twisted. He went to the ground and I stood standing. I watched as he hurriedly tried to swing at my feet, but I jumped, flipping over and going to his other side. I lowered my sword to his neck and he cried out.
“I give! I give!” I let out a puff of breath, bored with his easy submission. I lowered myself to his body and got close to his ear.
“Perhaps this is a lesson for you not to pick on someone far weaker than you, hm?” I smiled as he shook in horror. I turned my foot, feeling the dissatisfaction in my gut. I walked off the stage, making sure I grabbed my tossed clothing. I gave the guard’s sword back while walking up the steps to Mother. She was far from happy with my spectacular performance.
It seemed I obtained a sufficient amount of gaze as I withdrew a sword from a nearby guard’s sheath. I continued walking towards the fighting duo and entered the stage. I pull off my shoes and heavy robe, letting them fall with a loud “thunk”. It seemed now that I obtained all eyes on my person, and I held a grin.
“Oracle.” The noble bowed down to me. “What is it that you’re doing?” I could practically hear his gritted teeth. I allowed a small smile to my face before having it vanish entirely.
“I’m replacing your opponent.” I walked towards the pair, moving in front of the slave while doing so. “Let’s see how strong you really are.” I laughed and moved into position. The noble’s face morphed into a panic one, but he tried to keep his composure.
“My Lord, don’t you think you should sit this one out. I do not wish to harm you.”
I laughed with a easy gaze. “Relax, I’ve participated in more war campaigns than your years on this earth,” he was twenty-six. “I think I can match my tempo to yours. Now, stop stalling.”
“A-Alright.” I could see his quivers. I sighed inwardly; this wouldn’t be a fun fight.
We clashed at each other, my sure hold on an unfamiliar sword against his shaking grip on a too familiar sword. When he moved right, I lowered myself to counter left. He swung and I caught his attack. He folded over, raising his sword once more. I sighed, flipping my body so my leg would touch the flat of the weapon and twisted. He went to the ground and I stood standing. I watched as he hurriedly tried to swing at my feet, but I jumped, flipping over and going to his other side. I lowered my sword to his neck and he cried out.
“I give! I give!” I let out a puff of breath, bored with his easy submission. I lowered myself to his body and got close to his ear.
“Perhaps this is a lesson for you not to pick on someone far weaker than you, hm?” I smiled as he shook in horror. I turned my foot, feeling the dissatisfaction in my gut. I walked off the stage, making sure I grabbed my tossed clothing. I gave the guard’s sword back while walking up the steps to Mother. She was far from happy with my spectacular performance.
April 4th, 2015
Hello guys! How're you all doing this fine morning? Or night? Or afternoon? I hope you are all doing fine, and if you're not, then know that you're going to be fine later on.
To give an answer to the nonverbal question of why I was using different times then my own, it has come to my attention that I have other blog followers that aren't American. Yes, I'm talking about my European followers; hello! Yes, I know that you exist on some mysterious plane not to far from my own.
No, but really. It actually shocked me that I have Russian followers as well as French ones. I also miss my Polish follower, but unfortunately they have left my hold. Pity, I quite liked their company.
Anyway, I'd like to thank you all for bearing with me this past few months through my rambles and literature. I'm actually really astonish, also, for the immense like to the except of Imperial Girl. I might bring out some more of what I'm writing as of current, but I honestly didn't expect the popularity. Why? Simply because I wrote it in a way that was almost mechanic to my mind, and held no "oomph" for a story teller's voice. But hey, if you guys like it, I might as well show you more! Or not. Maybe I'll leave you to a realm of your mind where you question my true existence of whether or not I'm just a figment of your imagination. Who knows?
Dear, that was a lengthy paragraph. Anyway, moving onto what this was supposed to be (a daily log), my Spring Break is almost to its end and I have done nothing but sleep, eat, watch t.v, go outside to sit on the porch, and play video games this whole week. I most say it was the best waste of my time, but the sleep is greatly needed. My quirks of waking up at the same time in the middle of the night are occurring again, and I must say that it annoys me at times. My eyes also aren't pleased either, but hey, when the brain wakes, the body must do so as well.
I bet you really don't get what I'm trying to pass onto you through these electronics, but that's okay. I don't really know what I'm saying either. Just filling this blank page with English words.
To give an answer to the nonverbal question of why I was using different times then my own, it has come to my attention that I have other blog followers that aren't American. Yes, I'm talking about my European followers; hello! Yes, I know that you exist on some mysterious plane not to far from my own.
No, but really. It actually shocked me that I have Russian followers as well as French ones. I also miss my Polish follower, but unfortunately they have left my hold. Pity, I quite liked their company.
Anyway, I'd like to thank you all for bearing with me this past few months through my rambles and literature. I'm actually really astonish, also, for the immense like to the except of Imperial Girl. I might bring out some more of what I'm writing as of current, but I honestly didn't expect the popularity. Why? Simply because I wrote it in a way that was almost mechanic to my mind, and held no "oomph" for a story teller's voice. But hey, if you guys like it, I might as well show you more! Or not. Maybe I'll leave you to a realm of your mind where you question my true existence of whether or not I'm just a figment of your imagination. Who knows?
Dear, that was a lengthy paragraph. Anyway, moving onto what this was supposed to be (a daily log), my Spring Break is almost to its end and I have done nothing but sleep, eat, watch t.v, go outside to sit on the porch, and play video games this whole week. I most say it was the best waste of my time, but the sleep is greatly needed. My quirks of waking up at the same time in the middle of the night are occurring again, and I must say that it annoys me at times. My eyes also aren't pleased either, but hey, when the brain wakes, the body must do so as well.
I bet you really don't get what I'm trying to pass onto you through these electronics, but that's okay. I don't really know what I'm saying either. Just filling this blank page with English words.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
April 2nd, 2015
To be frankly honest, I am quite tired with my itchy legs and headache. With the addition of my damnable soft feet. (Yes, I cut my foot again.)
Anyway, I was thinking of a hobby in animation. Why? Simply because I made a particular story that seems far better in an animation rather than a comic. However, like many of my other ideas, it may not see the light of day. I'm at an equilibrium with this, so it's really on impulse rather than importance.
Now that I think about it, a lot of things are done on impulse. Humans think of courage as something that's planned, that courage can be found in any person. I disagree, as only those impulsive enough to do things can be considered "courageous". Now, this may not be a bad thing for some people, but in the views of society and their standards, it usually is.
You know, I'm gonna put lotion on my legs. GOD, they are so itchy.
Anyway, I was thinking of a hobby in animation. Why? Simply because I made a particular story that seems far better in an animation rather than a comic. However, like many of my other ideas, it may not see the light of day. I'm at an equilibrium with this, so it's really on impulse rather than importance.
Now that I think about it, a lot of things are done on impulse. Humans think of courage as something that's planned, that courage can be found in any person. I disagree, as only those impulsive enough to do things can be considered "courageous". Now, this may not be a bad thing for some people, but in the views of society and their standards, it usually is.
You know, I'm gonna put lotion on my legs. GOD, they are so itchy.
Wednesday, April 1, 2015
April Fool's Day
The dog sniffed, watching the person cautiously. His almost-black eyes stared into hers. It was almost like a continued war that they had yet to finish. When her gaze left him, he decided best to enter the room at that moment and trotted over to the girl.
When he arrived to the bed, she was unfortunately covering the majority of the spots from where he would usually jump on the bed. In his frustrations, he settled to a spot next to the bed. The spot, however, was irritating to his stomach; the floor was rough and what seemed to make his owner's feet callous. He growled, standing over and spinning around the spot. He even pawed at it to make it more comfortable.
Unfortunately, many of his attempts to make the floor comfortable were to no avail. He barked his frustrations, but the human beside him just rolled her eyes at him. The audacity! He barked again and now was trying to jump on the bed. However, the height between him and the height of the bed was made difficult by the weight of his fur. After what seemed one hundred attempts he had finally conceded.
As he stalked out of the room, he gave one last glance to the winner of the small battle. Unbeknownst to his owner, he would strike again. When that time comes, he would take what was his.
When he arrived to the bed, she was unfortunately covering the majority of the spots from where he would usually jump on the bed. In his frustrations, he settled to a spot next to the bed. The spot, however, was irritating to his stomach; the floor was rough and what seemed to make his owner's feet callous. He growled, standing over and spinning around the spot. He even pawed at it to make it more comfortable.
Unfortunately, many of his attempts to make the floor comfortable were to no avail. He barked his frustrations, but the human beside him just rolled her eyes at him. The audacity! He barked again and now was trying to jump on the bed. However, the height between him and the height of the bed was made difficult by the weight of his fur. After what seemed one hundred attempts he had finally conceded.
As he stalked out of the room, he gave one last glance to the winner of the small battle. Unbeknownst to his owner, he would strike again. When that time comes, he would take what was his.
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