*^Diary of a Vampaneze ^*|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 18 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Wednesday, January 16th, 2008|
Ha! I thought it would be fun to actually LIKE someone again! Oh how wrong I was.
I don't really have anything written properly but I feel the need to write some stuff down, for future reference...
Thought Number One:
Do you ever get the feeling,
Everyword a person speaks,
Has the power to stab you in the stomach,
Or leave you on the top of the world...
Why does it normally end in down?
And the person has no idea of what they are doing to you,
Its not THEIR fault...
I can't believe I told myself I missed that feeling! Madness.
Thought Number Two:
Every single second every single thing seems to change.
My head is an absolute lacuna.
I try and I try to understand but I just can't.
Im at a loss as to what to write because not a single word can describe the confusion in my head.
Moments are breathtaking.
Hours, minutes, seconds later...I doubt.
It's not human nature to believe.
It's human nature to doubt.
I just don't know what to think.
How is that even possible, when all I DO is think?
But I cant even grasp in my visionary enthusiasts mind what exactly is going on.
The truth might be denial,
But the moment confounds it all.
Its not a poem its just my Englishinomical way of writing. And no that word does not exist.
Found this on the back of a book I have, cant remeber why I wrote it:
Leave it down,
Put it out,
On the ground,
Only a matter of time.
Indeed. Well this next piece is more upbeat...It's something I wrote very recently, I think it was yesterday...
But yeah, I was trying to cheer myself up and experiment with different writing styles. So yes, It's meant to be silly. Do enjoy :) And if you dont, WHO CAREZ =]
The boy stood in his room silently, his life racing through his mind.
On this particular occasion, his life was going to lose the race.
Its an interesting thing, to stand (or sit, which is probably more comfortable) and reflect on ones life. Many things flash before the eyes, that is at least, if you have an interesting life to think about. The boy in the room regarded his as the middle man between the extremitys of nothingness and the allitys of everything. Nothing too little or too great. Well, thats what he told himself anyway...
There was this one thing. But no, boys like him didnt think about things like THAT.
He was too manly. He had a reputation to uphold!
Yet his mind was like mud, soft, squishy worm infested mud, and each of the slimy insects represented his past, his present, and his future.
The creatures niggled their way deep inside his mind, popping up in places where they couldnt and simply shouldnt be aloud.
His knees buckled slighlty as a particularly unnerving thought wiggled its way into the front of his head, pushing aside the trivial matters of life, such as food, friends, music... The boy could swear on his life he was going mad.
Was this really worth losing sleep over? 'Well, its not as I have a choice!' He thought desperately.
But come on! She's only a god damned girl!...
And now here is an extract from a book I wrote years ago. And yes, I know its crap, but I wroted crappy back den. ¬_¬ (I still do LMAO)
The stench gripped the trees, ripped up the roots, broke the bark and split the wood. Deep inside the strange swamp, Azra walked along the slimy, dirty, disgusting path, mud on her shoes, keeping her arms stretched out so as not to slip. Along the path grew clumps of weeds with tiny pricks on each curious yellow petal. A few stray toadstools sprouted in the ground nearby, and around them leapt a handful small toads, blissfully unaware of the state of the world around them.
Azra looked around curiously. Nothing had changed since her last visit. The swamp still stank, the pits of moss and hellish gunge still remained. Large, wooden spears protruded the soft earth, ancient weapons of galiant warriors.
Some mysterious feeling hit her hard in the chest and she quickened her pace, suddenly feeling a lot less welcome and a whole lot more unwanted...
GRRRRRRRRRR. I havent slept properly in three days. Why!? GOT THAT FEELIN IN MA STOMACH.
The one thats like...ripping. Me.
The words of a genius are these:
They SAY that the fifth elephant came screaming and trumpeting through the atmosphere of the young world all those years ago and landed hard enough to split continents and raise mountains.
No-one actually saw it land, which raised the interesting philosophical question: when millions of tons of angry elephant come spinning through the sky, and there is no one to hear it, does it - philiosophically speaking - make a noise?
And if there was no one to see it hit, did it ACTUALLY hit?
Lifeee. Life life life. I used to think I could take life in my stride, which I normally can, but I guess some things truely get the better of you.
Ahh music. I am now going to ramble to myself about things. I do this in real life, too. Talk to myself in my head. Unfortunately, as of late, my mind keeps referring me to various key events of the present.
Arg. Arg! Arg isnt even a word. It doesnt even come close.
Music is astounding. I often find myself wondering, do people who listen to music hear it the way I do? I mean do they really close their eyes and just LISTEN? I like to listen to music and think about whats going on, and whats gone on in my life.
And speaking of life...I often find myself wondering , do people look at life the way I do? Is there anyone out there who is as mental as me?!
GRRR. Girls. Girl! I feel like a ch00b. But its really nasty.
Ma heads sore. I hope I can write properly again soon. :(
|Monday, December 3rd, 2007|
|Well, Well, Well...
Its been a while since Ive posted here...
Hell, its been a while I since Ive been on to this site, but it sure does bring back memories!
But no-one actually reads this, which kinda defeats the whole purpose...but still, I'll be able to look back in another while and write a similar blog LOL (Y)
Well, I might aswell update this a bit, and put on some other older writings along with some of my more recent stuff. I wrote this in school today, as I was very bored and not feeling very festive (I was trying to feel the Christmas love). Its extremely short, and has no title.Each little speck of wonder was designed like a cluster of sparkling diamonds.
They shone and shimmered and slid,
Down the invisible path towards the end,
Where they would be together at last as one.
Divided they could not be,
Together, they created a breath taking blanket atop the earth.
Snow flakes where falling.
Indeed. Anyways, I'm sure if I search this fine laptop I will be able to find some old stuff...
Ah yes...I wrote this a long time ago, Id say well over 6 months ago. I just named it 'The Cliff'
The cliff edges are sharp and jagged, the protruding stones mesh together messily like broken teeth. And as I stand at one of those many cliff edges I look down and suddenly become afraid, - no, terrified. More terrified than I have ever been in my entire life. Its like I’m standing in the mouth of a dragon and at any moment that dragon could wake up and swallow me. Perhaps it already has, perhaps I’m dead. It feels like it. Or does it? This sensation is just too strange. This is not the way life should feel, but then, maybe it is. I’ve felt like this for so long now that the fine line between living and existing has been blurred. I step a little closer to the cliff’s deadly summit and risk a glance downward, careful not to cut myself on the cliffs sharp stoned minefield. I gaze down at the drop before me. Darkness, never ending darkness…or, wait…a small glimmer of light exists below, like a pinprick against the entire universe.
So here is my choice. Do I risk it all; do I jump to near certain death in order to see if there is still some hope? Or do I stand at the top of this rocky cliff top trapped, feeling as though I can never leave? I take a deep breath and step closer to the edge. My legs and jeans cut against the cliffs sharp rocks. Blood now drenches the area.
I close me eyes.
Whooshing, the torturing sound of air passing my ears at hundreds of miles an hour.
I try to open my eyes, just a little bit. They strain against the wind, but all I can see is darkness. Maybe I haven’t managed to open them. Or maybe I have, but maybe there was never any hope at all.
And heres another piece which I just found, I barely even remeber writing this...Im still undecided to whether its meant to be a poem or a story...I guess its just me rambling in type form!
The young girl always had something to say to everyone.
She spoke softly her words of 'wisedom'.
But does she even know what they mean?
The young girl represents an appauling number of people.
They speak what they feel people should hear, and nothing more.
I ask that you think before you speak,
You educate your mind before emploring the wise.
The young girl speaks her words but they do not satisfy her heart.
For she utters these phrases and metaphors having no understanding of their core,
But simply to make herself seem smart,
mentally-secluded and alone at heart.
Too few heed what others understand,
For the truely wise,
individual, can out the fools from the gold.
And now time for a break =D
Hmm...I have no idea where this is going, but, as always, I'm going to type anyway.
It generally works out...ish!
Im not feeling any Christmas love this year yet, Im scared :( Somebody help me feel the Christmas love!
Now...back to searching for my writing.
Ah ha! Here is something I wrote quite recently.
At the time I must have had plenty of inspiration and muse,
because I just tried to continue writing it and I could think of NOTHING.
The wind was howling like a wolf in the night, the stars shone like the sun.
Floating in the sky like a beacon of hope was the moon, round and clear.
Below it, on a small grassy hill, a boy and a girl lay silently.
Small white flowers dotted the area around them.
It was perfect.
The boy had shoulder length brown hair and fair skin, with two brown eyes shining curiously in the light of the moon. He wore a scuffed pair of blue jeans and a warm jacket, and he had his arms tucked neatly behind his head, propping him up slightly.
The girl that lay beside him had beautiful almond hair and pale skin, with an amazing set of green eyes also looking up at the sky above.
A comforting silence was in the air, except for the girls soft breathing, which the boy thought was incredible.
He turned his head slightly and looked at her laying there, her eyes were closed.
She was the greatest girlfriend in the world, and not only that, his best friend.
I was reading over the first book I ever wrote today.
Damn, It sucked.
Funny how views change.
Speaking of change, heres something I wrote a looooooooooong looooong time ago (in a galaxy far far away...)
I wrote it in Spain while waiting for my Dad and brother to come off some ride...via text message LMAO
I had this saved under 'riddles' ;)
Have a wee read at it.
|I took a step forward into the hazy roots of my unfurling mind and gasped as I entered the most beautiful and unreal sensation I will ever know. Two large, spherical domes of beauty filled my bleary eyes, a small, unnoticed tear dropping from my soul centre, into hers. Another step. Dust danced kindly at my feet as I dragged step by step onwards. The pain of being here was unbearable – but sensational. I took another sceptical glance through the wavering mists and gasped as a sudden sense of realisation erupted in my mind. I knew where I was – but the blatant proof shook me.|
Eyes moving faster than they ever have, I quickly snap them shut with all the might I can muster in my now weak and defenceless body.
Talk about catching the eye…
My senses are paralysed by the beauty and grace in which I rest, and even though my eyes may be shut, hers aren’t.
I needed to get away,
To get out, and to run as far away as I could possibly get.
But there was no escaping this one.
Dreaming or Screaming?
I had lost it all,
My mind and my soul and my heart, and I would no longer see that sunny day or that friendly face, but that stormy night and beautiful soul.
And I’m still there, trying to break free, yearning to return home.
The question is,
Does anyone else know where I am?
And now for something completely different!
I cant believe that when I had writers block, writing about it would cancel...wait...have I just created a paradox?!
Im writing about writers block while having writers block...but how can you write about writers block if you have writers block?!
|You Thief! (Poem)|
You thief! Stealing my soul!
I sit here angry, confused, and alone
What once I could do, I now must dwell upon
My mind is that of a jester
I sit and I struggle for the words to write
While not long ago, they came to me as easy as the wind
You thief! Stealing my soul!
I want to be able to do it,
To feel it,
To know it, like I once did
I will never give up the fight, until I have won,
Until I have the won the war that I swore I could
You, thief, have stolen my soul
But kept it close to me, oh so near
You, thief, are my mind, cracking like the earth in the heat
But I will put you back together if it takes me a million years.
And now I leave you with something I wrote a looong time ago.
But it is inspirational all the same.
Well it is to me...
but why would I need to get inspiration off my own writing if It came from my mind...umm...wha LMAOWisedom
A wise man once spoke some wise words. The words spoken I will not yet divulge.
Life, my friends, is a challenge. Life is not to be wasted. Life is not to be taken lightly. Life is not going be easy, but what life is, I will share.
Life is the super hero you fantasised about when you where seven.
Life is that one book you just cant put down.
Life is that film you watched last year, the one with the forest, the mountain, the ghosts and the goblins. Stating life is an adventure is enough to make anyone simply shake their head and sigh. I know, I know, you've all heard it before. But let me explain how I see life, and why life for me, CAN be an adventure.
When I look at my life I see a number of things. I see my path, my route. I see the cracks in that path, the stones which are unpleasant to tread upon. Some of these things you may call ‘annoying jokes that your friends make’ ‘those names your brother and sister always call you’ and ‘those teachers in school that you just cant handle.’ The cracks and stones on the path that I walk slow my pace, but do I change my direction? No, I just keep walking. Every path has its pebbles and stones, cracks and crevices. But I keep walking, because I know this to be true. As I continue to walk to come to a dirty brown puddle stretching from one side of the path to the other. The puddle isn’t too big, but just big enough that I dont think I can jump it. I stop at the dirty water and think for a moment. I can try and jump this puddle, and risk only getting a little bit wet. But what if I slip and fall at the waters edge? I’ll fall backwards deep into what I’m trying to avoid. Or I can trundle on through it, getting only my feet wet, but allowing the water to soak up around me? There are always choices to be made, but the question is, Do I grin and bear it? Or do I leap, tell a lie maybe, and hope for the best? It could all backfire and back, back into that puddle I go, without a hand to help me up. I drag my feet through the water as I walk; I grimace as the icy cold water swirls around in my shoes. But within seconds I’m out, and already my feet have begun to dry. I continue along the cracked and stony path until I reach an even bigger challenge. I see the path I walk reach the edge of a cliff. The chasm drops deep, very deep. At least, I assume it does, for all I see is darkness. My one saving grace is a rickety bridge in front of me. A torn and dirty rope suspends many rotting planks of wood above the sheer drop. You or any other normal person may see this and think ‘but this couldn’t hold me!’
You, my friend, are wrong.
Beside the bridge a sign is stuck deep into the ground, a sign reading the single word ‘Trust’. Most people when they come to this challenge in their life will ignore the sign beside the bridge. Many will refuse to cross it, but as the path they have walked grows darker and more distant behind them, they have no choice. They will squirm and shake, trying to avoid this, but it cannot be avoided. Few will follow the sign, and those few are the wisest of all. These people will cross the bridge with trust, they will trust that the bridge is sturdy, and they will cross it with courage and might, knowing they are safe. I ask of you, to read the sign, and to follow the sign.
You see; when things in life get tough and the road is hard, remember that you are on a path, a path that will ultimately lead you to whatever it is you are looking for.
The path is one that many people, most people, in fact, never reach the end of. They turn back at the puddles, at the bridges, and terrifying chasms and the fire breathing dragons. But I ask you today, to overcome these challenges, to reach your goal. We are all on a path, are you afraid to walk it?
Bye bye livejournal! See you
when you pop into my head again ;) Current Mood: tired
|Friday, January 19th, 2007|
He was the Angel. Long, devilish black horns protruded from a bandaged tomb of a head, the rags masking the eclipse that was his face. They fluttered gently in the wind, carried by a menacing force.
The air around him was his, and only his.
He had two large eyes, like two crimson rubies dipped in the scarlet blood of a monster. They seemed to produce an aura of darkness around them. Two dirty black rungs for teeth hung over his mouth, green gunge running down his fangs. Inside what looked like a black hole ran a mountain range of horrible teeth, a wild and fierce forest fire along the rim of every mountain. His gums were like slugs squirming restlessly in a small alcove.
A long, snake-like tongue sat at the bottom of his mouth, bulging red and ready, as though it lived.
Majestically, the head sat aloft his mighty body. It was muscular and angry, race nor heritage existing. His skin was pure black like his horns, but scabbed and broken in many places. His heart thumped like a church bell ringing in a tornado, his chest rose and fell violently.
Around his waist was tightened another bandage, dirt, blood and mud grotesquely mixed on top like horrible cement.
One arm. Two arms. Three arms. Four.
Four tree trunk like arms shot of his sides, each identical in appearance and structure. The same scabbed black skin was stretched around his muscles. Each hand was bony and messy like the roots of the mighty tree trunk arms he had. His nails were long and ugly, red and violent.
His muscular legs matched his athletic arms in every way, broken and black, yet incredibly strong.
The roots of his legs were identical to those of his arms.
His final feature was the most gruesome, two large wings expanded disgustingly from his back. They were like horrible curtains, pieced together by a frame of pure rotting bone. Like flesh, his wings were overflowing with maggots and all manner of flesh eating scum. The munching of his flesh could be heard all too easily, yet his skin never disappeared.
Were ever he travelled, before him rung a piercing noise of horror.
Surrounding him like the maggots to his wings flew thousands and thousands of tiny bats. When moving, the creatures of the night felt it their duty out of pure fear to protect him and to escort him. Like a cloud belonging to the fiercest storm he swooped in unexpected, pure destruction and misery being left in a trail behind him.
The Angel stood triumphantly aloft a mighty mansion, a complete view of his surroundings in his grasp.
Ahead, many miles north, rose tiny pillars of smoke barely visible to the human eye. Even to the Angel they were like black streaks in the distance.
The ground before him was cracked and burnt with blackened tree roots dotting the almighty darkened earth.
Closer, the Angel could hear the irritating scratch of a lone gate swinging open and closed in the wind. With a raise of his muscular arm and twisted hand, it ceased.
Grunting, he lept into the air with his majestic wings astride, they effortlessly held him afloat. In a second he was consumed by eerie black creatures and was gone. Current Mood: sleepy
|Friday, July 28th, 2006|
Thanks for the support of my 7 or 8 good friends on here.
Heh. Since im the worrying type, i fear this may be my last entry on here.
Just wanted to thank everyone out there. All my friends. Everyone, from school...from everywhere.
Ciao guys...hope I don't really mean that...
|Friday, June 9th, 2006|
Hey people, sorry for not putting up any chapters in a while, but CAMPBELL has taken my book to read and he should be giving it back soon. So when he does im just gonna type it all up, every last page. Anyway I really want to type something up here...
I know, I think I'll write a poem. Not another of my crappy love poems. A different one.
One about a good friend of mine.
Starter of war,
Yet he tries to bring peace,
Stupid large oaf,
He'd be better of deceased!
If it wasn't for him,
It would never have begun,
This situation so great,
But secretly it stung...
Picking at my wounds,
Hasn't yet healed his own,
Can't he see he's bleeding?
Bleeding right under the sun...
Confident, with character,
Sums him up,
But words can be deceiving,
Not all is as it seems,
Maybe you could meet him,
Talk to him, just a bit,
But be careful, I must warn you,
Next he'll be in love with you...
|Friday, June 2nd, 2006|
Well I've been working on my book alot lately, and I've been through alot lately, good, bad, annoying, that kinda stuff. So I just decided I would post a few poems I've written over the past week. Some of them are based on my life. Some of them are just poems I felt the need to write. Some of them make me sad, and some don't.
Put the blade down
Put the blade down
Mop off the blood
Wipe away the tears
Put the pen down
Take of that band
Show me your arms
Why would you desire to look upon the signs of a broken heart.
Come back, its not too late
Come back, I’m holding open the gate
Come back, my arms are open wide
Come back, be the thorn in my side
Your getting lost, come into my light
Your getting lost, I want you in my sights
One day it will be too late
What an amazing scarlet,
How it eases the pain,
Just walk away, my love
What have you to gain?
Its dark in my room now
And I sit and I write
I’ve been at it for hours, dear
Its goes on through the night
I’m in love with you, dear
But do you even care?
Every moment I spend with you
Leaves me gasping for air
This is a single poem, dear
You may just happen to read
But dear, this lasts forever
I don’t sleep, I dream
Call me sad
Call me desperate
But I’m sorry, dear
I’m in love
And it’s with you
Just stop it
Run to your mother
Plead with your father
You need help
Just stop it
It stings this pain
Stings oh so bright
It lingers, this pain
All through the night
Its scars, this pain
Scars my body so deep
And I keep on adding more
I just cannot sleep
Is it my last?
I hope not
I pray not
Not yet, not yet
I cry, when friendship dies
Oh, I cry, when friendship deserves to die
I cry, I cry, I cry Current Mood: distressed
|Saturday, April 29th, 2006|
The next chapter shall be up tonight, so thanks to all those...umm..12 people who have emailed me saying they like my story. Much appreciated guys! Current Mood: Heart Broken
|Wednesday, April 26th, 2006|
|The Staff of a Ghost - Chapter 7: Food for thought
‘No, please! No, please!’
I’m shouting wildly, struggling on the floor, I’m being held down.
Leave me alone, alone!
My nails are stuck hard into large, hairy mans tough flesh, but he isn’t even flinching.
I struggle on the floor for a few minutes more, than realise it’s a lost cause and give up. I’m lying limp on the soft carpet of the cramped hallway in my house.
“It’s alright, son”.
The mans voice is unnaturally calm; I’ve never, ever heard him use the tone of voice before in all the years I’ve known him.
‘No, let me go! Let me go!’
I think about starting top kick and scream again, but my energy has been completely sapped from everything I’ve done today.
“Bonte, you need to listen to me”.
Suddenly, shock sets in, but that’s quickly over come with confusion and anxiousness.
I blurt out, forgetting what I’ve just called Mr Gruelden.
Strangely, he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Bonte, I need to talk to you, and most importantly you have to listen to me carefully”.
Wearily, I nod, I just want everything to get cleared up, I want to know where mum and dad are, where Karl and Rob are and then I can get back to thinking about Grear.
“Bonte. Your parents are fine”.
Relief hits me like a bullet, but I remember what Gruel said. I don’t have the strength to start asking questions anyway.
“You need to carry on as normal, Bonte. Your life hasn’t changed at all. I know this is confusing, I know you may not have trust in your Headmaster, but you need to listen. Everything will be ok, if you trust me. Come to school, as normal, live your life, as normal. Anyone asks, ‘everything is fine’”.
I lift me head up slightly, and wince against the pain. I open my eyes a little wider to have a better look at Gruel in the dim light. I can still hear the storm raging outside, although the door is strangely fixed. I examine Gruel closely.
His skin is looking greyer than normal, his, wrinkles have doubled since I last saw him. Distress is pasted on his face; he makes no attempt to hide it. His curly beard looks charred by flame and his messy hair is slicked down by the rain.
Finally, I gather the strength to ask a question, although I don’t use it wisely.
‘The…the door, did you fix it?’
“Yes, and the window”.
“Never mind that, Bonte. Remember, everything is normal, alright? You need rest, you need food and a good nights sleep. I’ve got the food covered; it’s in the kitchen. Not much of a cook, are we?”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head; did Gruel just attempt to be FUNNY?
“…It’ll be ok. Don’t worry”.
With these last words, Gruel stands up in the hall, giving me a helping hand up too.
My head is spinning, I can barely see.
‘Rob…and Karl…Mr Gruelden, where are they?’
“Tomorrow, Bonte, Tomorrow. The first lesson will be tomorrow”.
Lesson? What lesson?
Exhaustion over comes me and I sit down on the stairs next to the hall, I find it hard to stagger the few steps out of the hall. I wait for Gruel to follow, but he doesn’t.
My head collapses into my knees and I absentmindedly scratch me head.
‘Wait, Sir –‘
But when I look up, he’s gone.
Just like last time, no trace to be found.
After what seems like forever, I drag myself out of the stairs and force my way wearily into the kitchen.
I rub my watering eyes and check the table, wondering what Gruel had meant. A bag of sandwiches and a few bottles of water sat neatly on the flowery tablecloth, almost professionally set. I carefully open the bag and reach my hand in slowly, taking a single sandwich in my sweaty palm.
Suddenly, hunger over comes me and I find myself biting and chewing my way through another four, only stopping to guzzle down a bottle of water.
After, I drag myself upstairs and throw on a pair of pyjamas in my room.
Somehow, Gruels fixed the window to perfection, although the storm still rages on outside, battering the walls of my house as though they have some kind of vendetta against them.
Yawning, I remember what Gruel said.
‘You have to act normal, everything will be ok’.
I’m exhausted, and I need sleep.
Maybe in the morning I’ll feel better.
Maybe in the morning he will explain.
Maybe in the morning, I’ll see my parents.
Maybe in the morning, I’ll see Grear, the girl who I love.
*************************** ************************************* ***************************
It's a short chapter, but I needed to get this bit cleared up before I can continue.
*sigh* Current Mood: disappointed
|Tuesday, April 25th, 2006|
|The Staff of a Ghost - Chapter 6: Dreams
It's absolutely freezing!
Pounding down on my head, small droplets split into tiny particles and chill me to the bone. I'm standing soaking wet, outside the front door of my large house. No children about, playing on the streets. No ice-cream van, selling to the children. Not even many cars dare drive in this weather. It's a complete hell of a storm and i'm caught standing in it!
Mum isn't back yet. Dad's at work. Now THAT'S care.
I shiver violently, like a surge of ice-cold electricity flowing right through my veins and exploding out my feet. To make matters worse, I’m wearing this torn, silk uniform, still covered in dry blood and mud.
Talk about embarrassing...
My mind takes a violent tug from the weather and skids outside a door I don't want to enter.
Behind it, the simple truth of how I messed up.
The weather and boredom had made me forget the whole day. But my mind was always going to drag me back.
I take a deep sigh and rub my stomach. I feel a huge jerk, the churning that's worse than any pain you can feel. I'm not used to it at all. Physical pain, sure. But this...this is different.
I take a deep breath, and another huge sigh. I doubt things will ever work out the way I want them too…
I try to be manly. With a forced grunt, I wait.
I’m still standing here, and believe it or not, the storms worse. The ominous rumble of thunder looms above me, though no sign of lighting, which is odd.
This storm is crazy. Trees get tugged firmly to the side, branches snap and crack, shooting in all directions. I have a small cut on my arm from where one of the twigs blew right into me. It’s too loud, too intense to think. But in between the cold, the damp and freezing cold rain bounding on my brain like hammer to a nail, I force out worry. My Parents…where are they? Dad may have been held up at work, it happens often. But Mum…she should have been here. If she really cared, she would be here. Surely she can’t…no. I curse for even thinking about it. My mum would not have stopped loving me because of a simple misunderstanding…
Pat! Pat! Pat!
The rain bounds and leaps off my face.
I don’t know whether I’m crying or not.
Still no sign of either of them. Dad should be back. He isn’t normally this late.
I begin to think of consequences. Places. Events.
Could my mum have had an accident? I flinch at the thought of dad being by her very bedside right now, every word she speaks could be her last. Or is she unconscious? Not even aware that she’s hurt? My stomach heaves yet again.
I hate my life.
I messed it up with Grear.
I’ve lost my parents trust.
And I’ve made two enemies, people I used to call ‘friends’.
Now I know I’m crying, the tears run rapidly down my cheeks as I stare into the gloomy sky. Maybe one day my life will be content. Maybe one day I’ll be happy.
But I don’t see it happening.
By now, I’m too numb to care. I’m fed up, exhausted, and sore. I have several more cuts from low-flying twigs and even small stones. I decide I can’t wait around, so I brace myself for the worst of the storm and charge round to the back of the house. I squint around the garden, my eyes stinging immensely from the pain of the freezing cold rain. I can’t see a thing, and I know there isn’t anything around here to help me anyway. I need inside, and quickly. I stumble across the garden to the back door, trampling the plants that haven’t been destroyed by the wind already.
Mum, the wind did it! Now there’s an excuse.
My hand slips and slides along the door as I continue to squint and try to find the door handle. I risk opening my eyes for a split second, and instantly regret it. A huge droplet of rain smashed into my eyeball, an intense pain unlike anything I’ve felt runs through me. I loose my footing and the wind throws me to the soaked, muddy stone ground. The whirring of the storm surrounds me, it feels like its closing in, getting closer and closer. Struggling, I try to drag myself up to try one more time.
Grear. Grear. Grear. I keep repeating her name. It seems to help.
Grear. I grip both my feet on the ground and pull myself up. Grear. I struggle against the wind, but I don’t fall. Grear. My first jibe with my hand and I grab the handle.
With one tug, my hopes are lost. Locked.
I curse loudly again, aggression taking hold of me.
I need in, and I’m getting in.
Grear. I think of her beautiful face, the way she walks, the way she stands.
I swallow, and grab the slippery drainpipe just beside the back door.
The wind whips and cracks around me, and the rain beats in a steady tune off everything in sight.
I jump in the air, landing both my feet on the wall, struggling to hold onto the wet drainpipe. The wind shakes me and I nearly fall, but my inspiration prevails.
One step at a time, I shimmy my way up the pipe. The rain is beating off my face; the wind is slapping my skin. Bit it doesn’t matter. My mind isn’t concentrating on the pain; it’s focused on the one thing I care about.
After what seems to have been hours with my eyes closed, I allow myself to squint once more. I think I can see the silhouette of the window in front of me…
This is it. I have one shot, and if I miss the window, I fall from the top of my house to the cold, hair concrete below.
I fill my mind one last time with her image, and prepare myself for the leap to the side.
I tense, and then the adrenalin arrives, urging me on.
GREAR! My cry mixes with the wind, carried off and destroyed. I widen my eyes against the fierce wind, in a split second target the window, and leap.
Just as I suspected, the wind lifts me, maybe even an extra millimetre, but it’s still enough. My blistered hands grab the firm, rough, windowsill of my house and I’m left hanging, like a towel blowing on a washing line. I grunt and start to pull myself up, battling against the raging winds and rain.
I need to do this, I need to do this.
Inch by inch, I pull myself steadily upwards, until at last I’m sitting by the window.
I scream loudly against the storm, determined to beat it.
I HAVE to get inside, I have to. If I have to break in, I will…
Something isn’t right, and I know it.
I grunt loudly, and wind my elbow back.
My elbow explodes in pain, but it’s quickly numbed by the pouring rain and cold.
I can see blood form under the torn silk of my uniform.
The wind blows against me, nearly tearing me from my sill, throwing me to the ground below.
I let out an enormous roar of pain, and scream into the storm, as though talking directly to it.
IM DOING THIS FOR YOU, GREAR!
I hurtle my shoulder into the window and with a loud clunk, the pane becomes loose and falls in.
Immediately, I can hear the wind suck in through the window, blowing things around.
And then I realise that I’ve just knocked my bedroom window in.
I realise what exactly I’ve done.
I was in trouble before, but now I’m dead.
I run out into the landing, shutting the bedroom door behind me, drowing out the wind and the rain. Tears are streaming down my face, I'm terrified about where my parents are and if there ok.
My head is pounding with questions, im cut and bloody, sore and exhausted.
After one agonising search of the house in search of my parents, I sit down on the living room couch.
No-one to be seen.
Everything has been so strange since I stepped out of line for Grear. Karl and Rob, my two only friends now hate me, and they've gone missing from school. They kidnap me, and Gruel saves me. I can't even find him, either. What the hell is wrong with my life?
I think about running upstairs to reclaim my poem, but I decide I don’t need it.
I could just right another…
Something tells me it won’t be a joyful replacement.
My stomach rumbles painfully as I realise I’m starving. It’s not the time for food…but if I don’t eat, I’m going to collapse.
I stagger into the kitchen and shut the curtains closed; I can’t bear to look at the horrible storm. Absentmindedly, I shove some chicken strips into the oven and turn it on low. I never was much good at cooking, but this shouldn’t be so hard.
I sit down on the wooden kitchen tables and attempt to examine my surroundings, but a sudden tiredness hits me like a truck and I find myself blinking…blinking…
My eyelids droop continuously and I have to struggle to stay alert.
Amazing how tiredness can drown out almost any sound.
************************ ************************************ ******************************
Grear! I can see her before me! Dark, bulky silhouettes surround her.
She’s in pain, agonizing pain.
Someone runs to her side.
************************ ************************************ ******************************
I jump of the table quickly and rush to the oven, throwing open the door and burning my hands as I pull out the food. The chicken strips aren’t even recognisable in the slightest, if not for the smell they could be mistaken for huge, black lumps of coal.
Groaning, I stuff them in my mouth one by one and swallow.
I choke; I can feel a sickness rapidly rising in my throat. I stumble over to the kitchen tap and stuff my mouth under the taps neck and turn the cold water on, guzzling down the drink, glad that it’s blocking out the horrible taste of the chicken.
************************* ***************************** ************************
Ten minutes later and still no sign of them. I’m getting very, very worried now. My stomach feels like it’s exploded, I can't bear not knowing where they are.
Every second I expect a knock on the door, I don't even bother thinking about what’s going to happen when they see the window. All I know is that I need them, more than ever.
Suddenly, panic flows through me, I begin to panic, what am I going to do? I won’t be able to get to sleep alone.
What if something has happened?
What if they’ve run away, never to return? My mind makes up so many bad scenarios.
Dead? Hurt? Or…Happy? Happy without me?
The rain is still pounding, the wind is still howling.
I’m terrified. Is this what a panic attack feels like? All I can think about:
Death, Death, Death.
I can here the door knocking faintly. Could it be them?
Have they returned? I rush to the door, but stop. If this is the wind, I’m going to break something…
I look through the spyglass of the door, and stagger backwards.
Not mum, or dad. A huge man, although I can’t see his face in the dark.
The rain is beating of his large coat.
I can’t open it. I can’t.
Sweat flowing. My head throbbing. My parents.
They must be dead. Dead. I’ll never see them again.
It doesn’t matter if I let the person in. They’re going to break the door down.
It's getting weaker and weaker...
The door will be broken...
I stare at the figure before me, and confusion, exhaustion and fear take over.
Deep darkness, as I collapse on the floor.
Well, thats anothe rchapter done. I originally had more on this one, but I had a deadline to meet, so I was kinda rushed = /
Ah well, it will still be included.
Next chapter by the end of the week.
xxx Current Mood: content
|Thursday, March 30th, 2006|
|My song first song...
Hey...I suck at guitar and singing but I wrote a sucky song! heh, enjoy people, I wont explain what it's about
Isn't this how it's meant to be?
And isn't this so good?
We've finally found that missing link
All things the way they should
I'm lovin this so much today
Tomorrows nearly here
I cannot wait to see you there
We've finally made it through
I'm lying in my room right now
Dreams forming in my head
Holding hands and holding on
All things the way they should
I'm loving this so much today
Tomorrow, it's nearly here
I cannot wait to see you there
We've finally made it through
It should have always been like this
I'm glad we've finally found
A way to finally break that chain, that choking bound
It should have always been like this
It really makes me smile
The way I feel writing now
Your image in my mind
I'm loving this so much today
Tomorrows nearly here
I cannot wait to see you there
I'm so glad
I'm so glad
I'm so glad, we've finally made it through Current Mood: happy
|Saturday, March 25th, 2006|
You looked at me and I was caught.
You smiled at me and I was on top of the world.
You held me hand, and I entered a dream.
Though maybe I'll never experience,
Maybe you do not want,
These things have made me feel so good,
I never want it to stop.
But is the feeling mutual?
Sometimes I don't really know,
Do you really feel this way?
Or do I kid myself so?
I lie all night just thinking,
All about you and me,
Memories and fun we've shared together,
Silence, just love.
But is it all in vain?
Sometimes I really don't know,
Do you want me the way I want you?
No, I didn't think so.
And even when we're together,
It's like we're always apart,
I sit beside you thinking,
About things I love on your part.
Should I hug her? Should I hold her?
Tell her how I feel?
Perhaps my thoughts are better left,
Stuck inside my head.
For even I can see this,
A part of me, it already knows.
You wouldn't me near you,
You wouldn't want me close.
And though it may sound depresing,
Please, I want you to see,
You are the greatest girl I've ever met.
And always will be.
Yeah, I got bored last night so I wrote this in five minutes.
More LJ soon. Current Mood: Thinking
|Monday, March 20th, 2006|
|The Staff of a Ghost - Chapter 5: Poking Problems
I can’t wait!
I leap up out of my bed, throwing the dreary, itchy bed-covers to the broken floorboards below, and stand in the dim twilight of my room. A thin slither of light shines in on my face past the layer of grime on my lone window. I haven’t cleaned that thing in years!
Eagerly, I throw of my pyjamas and stumble around wearily – still half asleep – pulling on my school silk trousers and throwing on my still bloodied shirt.
But I’m too excited. Too eager. Too...I trail off.
Who cares if my uniforms ripped and it's covered in blood?
Who cares that my face is still muddy?
Who cares that I haven't even washed since I was brutally attacked by two people whom I now hate?
I don't! With a huge burst of excitement, I grab my pyjamas and chuck them under my old bed. Grinning, I leap to my door and briskly turn the handle, exiting my cave-like confinement.
Today is the day!
I step out into a brightly lit landing. Three shelves of more ancient books sit firmly in place to my right. The oak-wood floor is gleaming magnificently in the morning light. Maybe it's just me, but everything has a polished, clean look about it!
I rush down stairs, leaping the last five steps and crashing into the electric box at the bottom.
I think i've cut my arm, and im sure i've woke the neighbours, but theres no time to stop and think about it. What's a little pain to what's in store today?
Suddenly, I stop for a second. Calm...I need to calm down.
Take a deep breath. Count to ten. Breath.
I want to make it into school, but i'd prefer it if I wasn't in crutches, or being pushed along in a wheel-chair! Calmly, though a burning sensation still bursting out from inside me, I step into the living room, closing the door gently behind me. I'm still grinning, I have been since I got up!
Strange...where are mum and dad? Confused, I walk over to the fireplace and see one of the many familiar post-it notes used around the house. Even more puzzled, I pick it up in my hand and read it into myself.
After last night, your mum got quite angry.
Needing to cool off, she went around to see her friend, Stacey, who quite recently broke up with her husband as you know. She called to say she was staying the night because Stacey got quite upset. As you know, I'm at work. Mum should be home when you get back from school, but your going to have to walk there and back again. I -
A sentence has been poorly scribbled out, leaving tell-tale signs of what the note used to say.
'I trust you'
are tangled in the many webs of ink from the pen, trying to conceal a broken trust.
But no. The words shine out in my mind. That's all im looking at. My trust, the trust that dad once held in me, scribbled out as though it was never meant to exist.
My feeling of joy has dampened. I blink glummly and continue with the rest of the hurtful note.
I'm sure you will be fine. I want you not to mention yesterday to your mother. It's best left forgotten.
So that's it? Their faith in me, set aside just like that? Dad's trust will remain like a broken bridge beyond repair? Some family this is...
I'm sure I will see you later, son.
I set the note down, dazed. They still haven’t forgiven me!
Trying to regain my crazy feeling I had only minutes ago, I look on the bright side. These things take time. Mum and dad can’t stay mad forever! I mean, they were young once, and though it pains me even think about it, they probably got up to weird adventures, got bullied, bullied others, smoked the odd cigarette and maybe even got a little bit tipsy! I mean, they can’t have gone through life without experiencing something similar! A situation that no one can understand, that no one can ever know about, or…a maybe even having a feeling, that no one can understand, or feel…
God, the first time I actually do something semi-wrong, in a situation when I’m completely in the right, and it’s too much for them!
They’ve clamped down on me as though I live in a high security prison.
The noise startles me, and it’s followed by several more short blasts. I look up at the antique clock in the corner of the room.
Half past seven, I only have an hour to get into school!
After I’ve made myself a quick breakfast of toast and tea, got my school bag and left it at the front door, I anxiously enter the bathroom. Strange…I’ve never had this feeling, or at least not this strong.
The bathroom is pure white, the walls made up of radiant white tiles, the ceiling painted brilliantly to give off the same shine. A few black towels add a nice contrast to the room, along with a lone black ornament of a woman. The statues always creeped me out, but it’s mainly the women’s face that scares me. The actual statue is like a silhouette, no detail, no texture or emotion. The face, is similar, but is strangely stretched, as though the women’s crying out in immense pain. It’s hard to explain, but trust me, its freaky!
I step up to the mirror, and look at myself glumly.
Staring back, a spotty, rather ugly looking face watches me from beyond the mirror, with my hair looking an absolute mess, like an untidy mop sitting on top of my head.
Why do I care what I look like? Why do I care all of a sudden? I don’t have any friends to notice, so why do I care?
If I look nicer…maybe…she…
I shake my head embarrassed that im getting so worked up and decide it’s time to leave for school. Taking a last painful look in the mirror, I walk into the hall, lift up my school bag and anxiously open the door, making sure to look it when im out and to slip the key back through the rusty letterbox.
Taking a few steps backwards, I examine the house I’ve called home for so long.
My stomach lurches oddly.
Something about it seems different. I notice I’ve left all the lights on, which of course will anger mum even more, but that’s not it. Something…more. Bemused, I turn around, schoolbag on my shoulder and start to walk to school
I must look a right sight! Walking down the street, covered in dry blood and mud!
I think back to the ambush the day before.
How it all happened…
How much it hurt…
But the real question.
The one that’s burning my mind,
And has been since the moment I saw him…
Gruel! Why was Gruel there? Why did he help me and how did he find me? Did he rescue me from Rob and Karl? Have they been suspended? Expelled?
Gruel wasn’t the sort of person to let the incident go by un-punished, even if it was an outside of school affair.
Perhaps the answer will lie in school…
Finally, I reach the large gates of Forest Field, with only one rather rude young boy shouting abuse at me because of my clothes…not too bad!
But there are only two things at school I need to tell you about.
In the morning, well, to put it simply Gruel wasn’t in. He didn’t show up, and all the teachers I asked didn’t tell me anything useful. There were rumours flying around that he might be dead…but that’s pupils for you! The rest of the day was pretty normal, up until lunch time, I just sat thinking about the girl…that’s why today was the day.
The day I would talk to her.
The day I would make friends with her.
The day I would…mess it up, clearly…
At lunchtime, I found the girl at one of the grimy lockers of the school.
I was pretty shocked to find her at the same section of lockers that I used. That meant she was the same age as me! A flicker of hope rose inside me…
And then, I did it. I messed it all up. There was no-one around to stop me, she hadn’t got any friends with her…so I built up the courage I had been mustering since last night, and did it. Unfortunately, using the ‘know-it-all-cool-guy’ was not a good idea.
Taking a deep breath, I ran up to her, give her a huge prod in the side and exclaimed
‘Hey babe, what’s up?’
I knew I’d blown it from the look on her face. Only certain people can get away with talking like that, and clearly im not one of them! I poked her again, harder, as though I knew completely what I was doing. The truth being this was the first time I’d ever even approached a girl to talk to alone. My stomach sank as I saw her look at me sarcasticly.
That’s all she said, and it was enough to break me for the rest of the day.
Little did I know, not only was I poking someone who would completely change me for the rest of my life - but I was poking with far bigger problems. Current Mood: Strangely happy...
|Sunday, March 19th, 2006|
|The Staff of a Ghost - Chapter 4: Confined to confusion
The floor boards are layered in dust and grime. The walls are cracked and hewn roughly into four large mounds of plaster, a small box of a room. Along the walls, an eighteenth century victorian-esque paper boarders the dreary place. Huge, colourless posters are tacked into the broken walls, showing the depressing images of 'algebra' and 'pi'. A small shack sits in the corner, and within lies a vary of old books ranging from Shakespere to Mozarts biography. An itchy cloth lies loosely on the small bed along one wall. A lone window is sat into the wall opposite a broken and squeaky door. Sat beside the window, a small chair and table - booth equally as detoriated as the door - are sitting. And thats where I am. On top of the old chair, a pen in my hand, a small piece of paper in the desk. This is my room.
This is my punisment.
I was right, mum did not take kindly at all to my uniform. It started off alright, she answered the door and was too relieved to see me to be angry. She told me how she'd been ranting and raving, asking the neighbours where I was, how she'd rang the school and they had no clue to my wherabouts. I'ts just aswell I turned up when I did, or she'd have rung the police and gotten them to do a complete search of the area! My Dad, who works in the police, had been driving around in the car looking for me while mum sat and prayed I'd come home. Dad had even gotten neighbours to help him search!
C'mon, I was only gone for a few hours! Can't they trust me to look after myself?
After mum stopped giving me hugs and kisses, telling me how much she loved me, and how relieved she was to see me, that the trouble really began. Dad, being the sort-of man he is, sat and watched mum embrace me. I never expected the same reaction from Dad, him being in the police knows a suspicious situation when its around. Mum leads me into the kitchen silently, and dad follows, equally as quiet.
Just as I thought I might finally be out of trouble, Dad decides to bring up the enevitable question, 'where'. That's all he asked me, and the single word was enough to ruin it all.
Mum must have been in some kinda trance to not notice my uniform, the huge cuts down my lips, the blood, dirt...but dad was not in the same trance, and his question must have broke mum out of the trance, to.
I tugged my neck anxiously as I tried to explain, but I knew I couldnt.
I thought about telling them the truth, but the truth is that my two best friends kidnapped me, beat me, told me I would meet them in hell, knocked me unconscious and then, to top it all off, Gruel, my headmaster carried me home and left me. Perhaps an interesting novel, but not the excuse I needed.
So I waited in silence. One of them would explode into fits of rage at any moment, and I was placing the bet on mum. I dusted down my solk uniform, picked away some dry blood that had flaked around my lips, and then the bomb. Heh, I was right...
Mum exploded in anger! I suppose now would be a good time to describe my two parents, because out the description you can't possibly imagine how I got the situation from horrible, to a total nightmare!
My mum, is quite portly, or, to put it bluntly extrmely obese. Her cheeks burn a bright crimson against her purplish skin, scarred with obvious signs of an acne-filled teenage life. She has short, bleached blond hair, along with an extremely large chest, that quite frankly is making me feel ill just writing about. Simply, to describe my mum in a couple of words, I would use 'short' and 'fat'. Mum always jumps to conclusions, unlike dad who thinks things through. So rather than perhaps ask me again where I was, she already has the crime and sentence in her flab-layered mind.
Dad, on the other hand, is completely opposite. He's very healthy, but he has to be to do his job well. He has short spiked hair, worn quite modernly for someone the same age as his. He's about average height, has a strangely young face, and his hair is dark brown. Dad, as i've explained, takes his time. If mum had not jumped to her conclusion, he would have sat me down and asked for the honest truth. He's always looking for the truth, nothing more or less. I guess thats what he's came to expect since he's always interviewing people.
As I was saying, mum exploded. I've been getting into fights, havent I? How many people have I hurt? Robbed? How many enemies do I have? What exactly DO I do outside school? The list goes on...mum accuses me of smoking, stealing, she even hints I coould use drugs...
And my uniform! Do I expect her to pay for it? No, I have to fork out £100 for a replacement...
And that's when my mums appearance, added with my silent anger becomes too much. If I told the bloody truth she wouldnt believe me! I'm stuck! I have absouletely NO WAY OUT, and she can't understand that.
So I speak up. I let my anger out.
'Didn't you used to have a uniform? If you still have it, It'll be so big I could take the silk and make a few more, make some profit?'
Dad is silent, as is mum.
The next bit surprises me slightly, as mum simply tells me to get to my room. That's all, no fireworks display as she hurls insults back, no quiet dad trying to calm her down.
Mum storms out of the room in anger, her purple face now with a dark tink of red.
I get up to leave, but dad calls me back. This is what I like about my dad, he is understanding.
I sit down opposite him and he bluntly asks me for the truth. But I can't tell him...and he always knows when Im lying. Always, no matter how close it is to the truth, he knows.
Dad is staring at my, he's looking into my eyes to try and see what im hiding.
"I can't, Dad".
I try to tell him how he wouldnt believe me, how it wouldn't seem right, but he cuts me short with a disappointed sigh.
"Get to your room, son".
My stomach sinks. I've just lost my dads trust.
And thats why I'm here, confined in this small 'bedroom'. Don't get me wrong, me whole house isn't this bad, we arent a poor family of tramps, we're far from it. But it's mums educational mind thats landed me with a room like this, apparently she doesnt want me to be distracted by 'media and technology'.
I look down at the small piece of paper on the wooden desk. I'm in a strange mood, where I just sit and write poems and stories. It's normally when im angry, but...it's different this time.
I don't feel particularly angry, since i've been sitting here for the past 6 hours, and my parents are both fast asleep. The feelings strange...i've never felt anything like it...
I begin to wonder whether Rob and Karl drugged me while I was unconsious, but I brush it aside.
Suddenly, it happens again. The girl! Her sirname (thats all I know) fills my head and I can't get it out.
The name is so familiar, and yet I dont recall hearing it before.
The strange writing feeling escalates, im filled with the strangest emotion i've ever felt.
I think about the girl, she has a pretty cute face, and her hair seems to shimmer beautifly in my mind.
Shocked, I find myself smiling as I think about her, and so I quickly discard the image of her.
I think I should talk to her, after all, I did save her from Karl and Rob.
My mind is tingling, but at least the feeling isnt as strong.
Eagerly, I put my pen down to the paper and begin to write. I just write down what comes to my mind, I don't stop to see that it rythmes, that it even makes sense. It doesn't make sense. Why am I even writing this? Who...I start to question myself who I'm writing about, but I silently stop myself.
Best not to question it.
Im franticly scribbling the words now, and then look down at my short poem.
I smile when I think about you.
I laugh when I hear your name.
I feel amazing just thinking about you.
I want to hold onto you and never let go.
I stare down at the page in disbelief.
Did I write that? I begin to question the poem, rip it to pieces in my mind.
I've only heard her name once...and I didn't laugh when Gruel said it!
But I did feel amazing thinking about her...
Suddenly, I slam my head of my ancient desk. I need to wise up! What am I thinking? I haven't spoke to this girl once...
I flick the name 'Grear' through my mind once more.
Right! Im going to sleep!
I quickly change into my plain black pyjamas, discard brushing my teeth or washing, turn out my light (not before hiding my poem under my bed) and clamber into bed.
I sigh. What's wrong with me...
I pull my itchy bed-covers up around me and absent mindly hug them.
I blink and open my eyes, which are crusted over in sleep and grime.
Yawning, I sit up. Time to get ready for school...
Chapter five coming soon, and yes, the poem was for you...
Cya Current Mood: Meh
|Thursday, March 9th, 2006|
|The Staff of a Ghost - Chapter 3: Ambush
'Ok, Mum. This is the truth'.
Yes, yes thats a good one.
'I kinda...sorta met someone I like...'
Perfect! Mum, being a typical Mum will pick up from here. I'll probably get bombed with loads of awkward and embarassing questions...
'Who is she? Is she smart? Cute? Funny? Can I meet her?!'
As I silently think about the ropes of questions mum will ask, I know this ones fallen apart. Alright, I might be able to convince her I have a girlfriend at the start...but it's one of those lies that can only get me into more worse and embarasing situations...
I stare at the pavement blankly as I slowly trek home from school. Brittle pebbles lie broken and in pieces along the stone slabs of the path, along with mounds of dirt cut from the soft, lonely earth all around me. I take in a deep breath of the cold air and sigh glumly at my predicament.
I can't tell mum about detention...
I rattle my brain one last time for an excuse that sounds feasable, but my mind only slips to how mum would react if she found out the real reason im extremely late home...blue murder.
Yeah, thats one of the many things I hate about my mum, shes too education-oriented.
She really is A+ on the brain!
Its all A, A, A! Maybe thats why I don't have many friends...she forces me to study at least once a night!
If I even get a single B, I get lecture after lecture about my future! I don't bloody care about my future, not until it arrives anyway!
I know shes looking out for my best interests...but cut me a break!
I strain my brain painfully for anything at all that will keep me out of trouble, and I feel a cold bead of sweat run down my forehead slowly, all the while absent mindidly tracing this desolate path to my ever-approaching fate...
Ninjas! No...she'd never fall for that one...
I've got to be approaching my home soon...so I nervously wipe the sweat from my forehead and clear my throat nervously.
Suddenly, my mind falters and todays events flick through my mind painfully quickly.
The tooth, the horrible bloody tooth...
The girl...my mind stops on the image of the young girl whom I saved from Karl. My stomach twists as I think of the hurt she must have been feeling, so I push her swiftly, yet strangely painfully out of my mind. Blinking my eyes, I quickly return back to my surroundings.
'What the hell...'
I rub my eyes in disbelief as I realised I have no idea where I am.
I must have walked to far...wasn't I supposed to have taken a left some time back?
Grumbling, I take in the area around me, tracing for a familiar site.
A few old houses are sitting to my left, along the now cracked and broken path.
My attention is immediately drawn to the houses, and their detoriated shells.
The houses look literally like they've been hewn from horrible, dirty mounds of earth, small ridges for bricks, large hollow holes for doors. No windows are chimneys exist in any of them at all...
A few weeds mark what probably used to be small gardens.
I whistle softly at the hideous sight infront of me, and then panic begins to flood through my veins like adrenaline.
Im lost! I have absoultely no idea w-
I cut my thoughts sharply.
Did I just hear...no...
I feel another fresh bead of sweat form on my leg and run down it quickly. I shudder at the feeling that passes through me as each bead of sweat appears, and then traces my skin slowly...
Shaking, I turn around quickly and think of what to do...
My minds telling me.
But my legs arent letting me.
Before my mind can tell me to run yet again, I hear a strange laughing noise coming from the decreped mounds of earth lined up behind me.
Darkness engulfs my mind, dulls my senses, and im out...
I'd know it anywhere...the taste of blood.
Licking my lipss, tracing my teeth with my tongue and coughing as quietly as possible, I open my eyes and feel a rough fabric bound around them. I still can't see...
I tug my hands weakly...bound.
I lip my lips and get rid of the rest of the blood, and stretch my mouth a few times. I can't see it, but I can feel a huge cut running down both my lips.
Suddenly, as though i've been hit by a bus, panic floods through me yet again.
I've been kidnapped...im going to die.
'Help! Somebody!!! Help me!'
Im thrashing around now, tears running down below the rough material blocking my vision.
'Please! Help me!' My voice falters a few times and I begin to choke on the bound around my mouth.
Im going to die...
I jerk my legs in terror, and realise yet another two of my limbs are roped together.
Suddenly, it stops. My bounds are cut. My legs untied.
Light floods my eyes, piercing them painfully, until finally, it clears, and im left with two silhouettes standing above me. I don't dare move to wipe my tears away from my eyes.
A familiar voice comands me and I instantly obey.
I use the time to examine where I am. A huge circle of light is shining upon me, the rest of the room in complete untainted darkness.
Suddenly, I realise I must be in one of the dirt-houses. Whoever knocked me out, clearly just dragged me into one of them.
'Your going to regret what you did...'
A second familiar voice hisses and the silhouette steps slowly into the light.
Before he even walks out, I know the second person must be Karl. It has to be.
I rub my face quickly and brace myself for whats coming next.
"Well, well well..." Karl hisses, him and Rob now circling me menacingly.
"What the hell do you want?!" I groan angrily "I don't belong with you, you were never me friends!"
"No...perhaps not" whispers Rob eagerly.
"But your going to pay for interfering," finishes Karl powerfully.
I swallow a huge lump in my throat and grunt out another sentence quietly.
"You won't hurt that girl again..."
I look down at my uniform dizzily and notice a huge rip in the leg...mum is going to kill me, if Rob and Karl dont...
I reach my cut hands into my pockets and remove the small white stone within.
"Missing it?" I begin to build up a slight confidence as I jibe at Karl. I can see the fury spread acoss his face.
"We're going to make your life hell, Greg. You will regret this". Rob is snarling behind Karl...Karl is holding something...
"Until we meet again in hell" Karl rasps, and he raises his hand slowly, and lets loose the brick within.
"Bonte? Are you alright?"
I grumble and sit up wearily. Im outside my house.
"Who...?" I begin to ask who my mystery savior is, but I completely blank when I stare up at him...
"Good". His single word sends confusion through my mind.
But he just ignores me. I rub my eyes again, and he's already running away into the distance...
Im not sure who's going to be more of a threat...mum, or Rob and Karl!
I stand up, tears in my eyes once more as all thats happened today sets in.
Did Gruel carry me home? What exactly happened with Karl and Rob? The Girl...I have so much to think about!
I swallow yet another lump in my throat and knock the door softly.
Perhaps, Ninjas wasnt such a bad idea at all...
Ok, well...thats that done, Im really sorry for the lateness, I promise the next chapter will be up soon, because I just seem to be writing all the time now...
Alright, only one person reads this, so I might as well put this up here aswell, even though I'll probably right so many more tonight...
You can't imagine, the feelings I get,
When I look at your face,
When i stare at you close.
You can't imagine, the power of your eyes,
When I meet your face,
Cursed by just one glance.
I wouldnt call it happiness,
Not at this time,
This curse runs through my veins,
It poisons my mind.
You cant imagine, the power of your words,
When you speak to me at all,
Its now just a blur.
And you can't imagine, how I'm feeling right now,
As Im thinking of you,
And your hold on my mind.
You fill me with joy,
Also with sorrow,
But when I think of your face,
You make it alright...
See ya people. Current Mood: depressed
|Thursday, February 2nd, 2006|
|The Staff of a Ghost - Chapter 2: Detention
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” Gruel is standing tightly behind me, and even though I can’t see him I can sense his un-natural presence. I curl my hands into tight, bloody fists and shove them into the silky pockets of my trousers. I don’t stop to think how I’ll explain the blood to mum…
“All of you! Face me this instant!” he rasps powerfully, and I can feel his cold saliva sitting on the short hairs of my neck. Before quickly spinning round to face Gruel, I risk an awkward glance at Karl. His face is as white as a ghost, and he’s clutching the side of his mouth in shock. A small trickle of scarlet blood is running down the side of his mouth.
I don’t have long enough to examine Rob or the injured girl, so I nervously turn to face the horrible headmaster.
I can see why we wear such ridiculous school uniforms – Gruels dress sense is literally disgusting!
He’s wearing a huge curtain-like cloak around his body, again with the Forestfield crest neatly sown on its breast. A large, loosely sat hat sits upon his head crookedly – unfortunately not enough to cover his face.
Argh! His face! Gruels face is wrinkled beyond belief, like Karl’s many layers of extra flab…only ten times worse! A curly, burnt-out looking grey beard protrudes from his chin, and long tufts of equally-burnt grey hair pop out from his ears and disfigured nostrils.
I’ve seen enough – I don’t dare tear my gaze from his to examine the shoes!
“Now, what has happened here?”
Gruels voice is blank, no emotion or intent set in his wrinkling face. Rob, Karl and I all shuffle away discreetly from the girl knowing she could rat us out at any moment, and even though I haven’t done anything wrong…if they go down they’re taking me with them!
My hands are trembling softly as I know we’re all in deep trouble. If he tells me to take my hands out of my pockets, I’m done for!
I twist my neck around swiftly to see Karl speaking:
"Greg! He attacked us, my tooth!"
Anger takes over once more as I know my best 'friend' Karl is now a bully, a liar, and an untrustworthy person.
"What about your tooth, Craig?"
Craig - thats Karls sirname, Gruel never, ever calls us by our first names. I doubt he even knows them!
"What about my tooth? That - that thing over there dam well knocked it out of my mouth!"
Suddenly, Gruel turns stoney grey and he locks his gaze rigidly on Karl.
"Mind your language, boy!"
A huge grin spreads across my face as Gruel glares at Karl. Im actually struggling to hold back fits of laughter, and the urge to shout 'DAM DAM DAM!'. Gruel must be the strictest man alive.
"And what do we have here?" My grin suddenly collapses as I focuse on what will happen next.
Gruel judders around slowly, even mechanically to face me. I stare deep into his dark, inset eyes and I know i've been caught. I didnt eben do anything! But it's Gruels way. He's always had his 'ways' just like this. My gaze is fixed on his and to tear it away would be like tearing steel with my bear hands.
Im caught within...
"BONTE! ANSWER THIS INSTANT!"
The world around me resumes and im free from his spell once more. You can never win with this guy...
"Pardon, Sir?" I speak politely, but know that wont change anything...he's just going to think im mocking him.
"Pardon? Bonte, I have asked you FOUR BLOODY TIMES!"
Ha! Am I allowed to say bloody? I dont stop to ask, because is definately not the time.
I stand up as straight as I can, In complete silence as I wait for the next move to be made.
One, single thick bead of sweat trickles down my warm cheek and slides of my chin. I can't even raise my arm to wipe it off - without fear of it getting biten off!
Finally, the cloud of silence is split revealing a single event that will make my life hell, very, very soon.
"Detention, Bonte. You will report to my office immediately after school and you will not be late."
Gruels voice is solemn now, even calm as he deals my punishment with high authority. His cold eyes tug from me as he turns to Karl, his grey beard flowing with his strangely swift movement.
"As for you, Craig, you should go to the school nurse at once. Burns will accompany you."
The two friends scramble off down the long grimey corridors of Forestfield as I wait, strangely eagerly to hear the girls name - or at least her sirname!
"Now, Grear, I need you to come with me. We're going to get this sorted out."
The small girl nods quielty and shuffles her feet nervously.
Grear...I pass te name through my mind as I try to wonder why it seems so familiar.
Gruel looks at me sternly, and before I have a chance to react tells me to get back to class.
Grear...what an interesting name.
******************* *************************** *****************************
Maths! Eurgh...what a class! And I don't mean that in a good sense! The subject itself, is bearable, but my teacher, 'Mrs Robins' is the worst teacher ever. Im not exagerating one bit, not even a little. She tries her best, and I respect it, but she is just so boring! She thinks just because she uses her 'cool' pens that everyone will like her. What do pens have to do with it?! She doesnt even realise we hate her...but thats the same with every teacher, whether you like them or not - they're convinced they're the best!
Im sitting on an old wooden chair, broken in several places and nailed together loosely...its so bad the chair has actually fallen to pieces...twice! Im sitting alone now, Rob and Karl must still be at the nurse. But even if they were here I doubt I'd want them anywhere near me...and I doubt they'd want to sit with me!
I glance up at Mrs Robins with a strange lurch in my stomach. She's thin - as thin as a stick insect, and shes wearing a fluffy, though tatted woolen scarf as always. The only thing that changes about her is her skirt and top...her straw-like dirty blonde hair, strange scarves and high heeled boots never ever change.
My stomach lurches again as I remeber the test I did last class...and now its time for the results.
"Mc Gouran - B minus"
Her voice is strained, dry and earthy like someone with a terrible cold.
I listen to John clap his hands in delight as I await my grade.
"Turner - C"
Mrs Robins coughs slightly and congradulates Richard on his grade.
"Wilson - A"
"Bailey - B"
The names melt in my mind as I listen for my sirname. Thats all im interested in...Bonte.
Fnally, my time arrives and I stiffen and wipe the sweat from my forehead.
"Bonte - Fail".
And now its time for hell to break loose. My third fail in a row.
Mrs Robins' eyes glaze over in anger as she points to the dusty green door of the horrible maths class.
I stand up nervously and swear into myself. Everyones eyes are fixed on me, im the center of attention...and what bloody attention it is!
"Great going Greg!" I hear an annonymous voice in the class shout, but all my mind is thinking about is what will happen next. Carefully, I step over my school bag and pull open the door of the maths room, stepping outside into the never-ending corridors of this horrid school.
I dont bother to look around as I know Mrs Robins' has followed me out.
"Third time, Greg, third time! What do you have to say?"
Im in too much trouble to even stop and think about her voice.
"I...I guess I havent been trying hard enough".
"Greg! Open your eyes, son. Your 14 years old, thats not an excuse! You have important exams coming up in just a single month. What are you going to do about it?"
I just starte blankly at her. My life is collapsing around me, and I just want to get out of this school as fast as possible.
"I'll tell you what!!! Your going to go home, and do this. You will leave it on my desk tomorrow morning. Do I make myself clear?"
Mrs Robins' is holding a sheet of paper typed in red print. I quickly examine it absent mindedly.
60 questions...SIXTY QUESTIONS?
God, how am I ever going to get all this done?
Relief floods through me as I hear the sound of the school bell. I take one last look at Mrs Robins' boney face and nod slowly.
"You many go to your next class".
****************************** *************************************** ***********************
Finally! The end of school. Alone, I walk feverishly towards the exit, desperate to get home.
Suddenly, in the mass of people I see the short girl who I helped earliar. I stare at her without realising and walk straight into the guy in front of me.
"Sorry..." I murmur quietly.
A strange sensation flows through me as she looks at me - but all she does is scowl. I dont even get a thank you for helping her out. But again, this is what I get for hanging around with Rob and Karl...i've got an un-shakable reputation.
Dam! As the girl turns away, still scowling I remeber my punishment. Detention with Gruel!
Glumly, I walk through the bustling corridors towards Gruels office situated right in the center of the school.
The door of his room is worse than any ive seen in the building...its actually got moss growing on it!
Rather disgusted, I grasp the handle of the door and pull my hand away in confusion. I examine my hands intently and mutter to myself. Did my hand just go through the door handle?
Before I can try again, Gruels emotionless voice echoes from his office.
"Its me, Sir, Greg Bonte".
I hear a strange click and Gruel calls me in. Blinking, I grasp the handle of the door and push it open...I must have been imagining things.
Slowly I walk inside Gruels office. This is the first time i've ever been in it, but most definately not the last.
One, huge arm chair, slightly torn at the corners sits behind a wooden table much like my maths chair.
Im not surprised when I look down at the ground and see dirt. No floor-boards, just mounds of dirt. The walls are blank concrete apart from from a single portrait on the wall. It intrigues me - the portrait is off a young man, with a hood over his face. The darkening shadow covers all but his chin.
"You may sit down, Bonte".
Gruel jesters to the floor blankly. He's making me sit in the dirt!
He sit down glumly and quickly glance at him. He's staring at me oddly - and he continues to do so the, whole hour of detention! I just sit in the dirt while he gazes at my presence.
After a long, painfully boring hour he speaks.
"You are free to go, but if I ever have to bring you back here again, you will NOT like it".
Quielty I stand up and quickly leave the room, bringing my school bag with me.
When im finally out of school, I look back at the horrible place. One day...one day I will be able to leave this place and never come back...
I fling my school bag onto both shoulders, pull out my shirt and prepare the most feasable excuse for my lateness I can find.
Well, I got more of my book done! Yay! I was afraid Alice would eat me, so I decided to knuckle down and get some done! Look out for the next chapter sometime soon (I promise!).
Well...you may not think this is much of a love story at the minute, but by the time I finally get this done it will be!
So while i'm here im just gonna use this is a blog thing, y'know? To type about my strangely eventful life of late...yeah...
Im bored, so i'll make it short.
I've had a strange week! But recently every day has been strange, confusing and just down right annoying!
Maybe i should write a book about advice?
Yes...i've been given enough to fill about three books and none of it would work.
Yeah...how many people actually can read this? It is public, right?
What's the worst thing I could say?
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
Well, if you carry on this way
Things are better if I stay
So long and goodnight
So long not goodnight
Whee! I love that song lmao.
Anyways i've blabbed on too much.
Look out for chapter three soon!!!
^%"Vampaneze-Wilson"%^ Current Mood: Determined >=D
|Wednesday, January 4th, 2006|
|The Staff of a Ghost - Chapter 1: Gruel
Do you know what it feels like to get picked on? The hurt inside, the swelling in your stomach as someone hurls an insult at you? Ugly? Freckled? Short? The crush inside your heart as every single person around you seems to hate you? It makes you want to disappear, to be swallowed up and never return.
And the anger! You may not know it, but within us all is a gut-busting anger, waiting to get out.
So that’s why I’m not joining in. I couldn’t and I won’t.
I stand here in the relatively deserted corridor, in Forestfield High, watching my friends and a small girl.
“You don’t belong here!” sneers Karl, hatred twisted on his face. Karl is quite short, but makes up for it in weight, layers of flab hanging over the next. Golden, frizzy hair sat atop a red, rosy face, sprinkled with dirty freckles. He was growling fiercely as another voice spoke up:
“Where did she come from, anyway?”
This time it was Rob, and he spat at the ground angrily, his fists clenched into two balls of fury. He was thin, his cheekbones set high in his face, and his skin was stretched tightly around them. Short, messy, ginger hair sat aloft his brow, greasy and wild.
Well, this is just another day at Forestfield. I, Gregory (or, Greg, as everyone calls me) Simmons stand here and watch my friends pick on the same girl. I try to ignore it, and I know I shouldn’t, but what can I do? Tell a teacher? There isn’t a single bloody teacher in this dreadful school I could trust!
Tell Mum or Dad? As if! Those two hounds would sniff out the nearest teacher immediately and alert them to what’s going on. I know how Rob and Karl would feel, so I’m not going to risk loosing my two best friends for some - some girl!
I try to set my mind on something else, anything at all that’ll keep my occupied until my mates have done…
Glumly, I look around the dark corridor I’m within.
Eurgh! Mum’s always blabbering on about how
‘Forestfield is the top school on the government charts!’
Charts?! I dread to think what – charts mum gets her information from. She really doesn’t understand anything.
My eyes squint in the darkness as I examine the wall I’m leaning against. Broken, dusty, disgusting tiles lie set crookedly in the walls, a strange green pulp filling the irregular gaps between them.
Has Mum ever been here?? No decent parent would send her child here!
Beside me I can still here the shouts and jibes being made cruelly at the girl. Although Mum and Dad may not be too good at choosing schools, they always did teach me to try and respect others. I mean, seriously, my mates are being total jerks!
But again, that’s life, I can’t tell them that and if I do, I may not ever make friends again. Unfair, but what can I do?
I tug my gaze forcefully away from the rank walls of Forestfield and avert my eyes to the girl.
She has a pale, clay-like face, dotted with a few red spots, dark, puffy red lips and straight black hair, shining mysteriously in the gloom of the corridor. Two eyes sit between her nose, gleaming a light green colour, although no emotion sits on her fair face.
Her uniform is tucked in neatly, giving her a pristine look.
Argh, the uniform! If there’s one thing I hate in this horrible school more than the teachers, it’s the uniform! We wear the drabbest ‘attire’ - as Mum seems to call it – ever!
I stretch out my arms absent-mindedly to inspect the uniform myself. We were huge grey cotton jumpers, the itchiest things I’ve ever experienced wearing, with drab grey trousers. But that’s not even the half of it. Silk! We wear trousers made from fine SILK! Talk about embarrassing!
On top of our scruffy jumpers we wear a tight shirt, emblazed with symbol of our school – Two Trees beside one another, with a knitted sword flowing down between them. If you don’t think that’s bad, they manage to make it even worse, with boys and girls both having to wear polished black shoes, and an ugly leather belt. So not only it the worst to wear, but it’s the worst looking! My mind fills with the comments and jokes other schools have made about us, so I abruptly pull my mind away from the subject, and look back over at Rob and Kyle.
Both have got their hands raised, chanting, cheering, and booing the small girl, who still remains standing emotionless.
For a second, a strange emotion flickers in my soul, as I see Rob spit right in the girls face.
Again the question sinks deeply in my mind,
‘Why do I put up with this?’
I think about trying to split them up, but cant muster up the courage. Anyway, there are two of them, and how am I meant to explain what I did?
I grit my teeth angrily as the two start pushing the girl between themselves. Rob yanks his bony hand at the girls tie and rips it from around her neck, tearing the collar of her shirt.
Disgusted, I pull my gaze back to the horrible walls.
My stomach heaves as I turn my head around slowly. Karl is standing, grinning triumphantly over the girl, a small trickle of blood on his hand. Rob is prancing around foolishly, chanting his usual song when something good happens to the two mates. Shocked, I lower my gaze to the fragile girl below.
A small tear is in the corner of her eye, the first emotion i've seen her expel.
My mind explodes with emotion as my two friends drag the girl roothlessly to her feet.
I can't let them do this! I've watched too many times as my mates have slagged off this girl, but this is too far! Sweat is lashing of my forehead, arms and legs as I step slowly towards the ruckus, wondering what to do.
Before I know it im standing between Karl and the girl.
"Hey dude, what's the matter? Come to join in the fun?"
"I...Karl...you s-shouldn't be doing this". I manage to stutter out the only thing I can think of saying, and before its even out I know its not what I should have said.
Suddenly, Karls face contorts in anger and he takes a forced step forward.
"Dude, why the hell should I listen to you? Back off until we're done, then we can talk".
Behind me I can hear Rob in fits of laughter, and the soft panting of the injured girl behind me.
Terrified i've already lost both my best friends, I swallow the lump in my throat and wipe my forehead, trying to calm my nerves. I look at the ugly tiles on the ground of the corridor im in, and see a small pool of red just beside me feet. Blood.
Anger flushes through me again as I stare it blankly.
I whirl around and see Rob run towards us madly, and I blink In shock as he crashes into the girl and runs past to Karl.
"What??" Karl exclaims, surprised, and he slaps Rob in the face angrily.
"I was...I was out to the toilet...Gruel! He's heading this way!" Robs face is flushed and sweat is streaming down his forehead.
Gruel, is actually our Headmaster, Mr Greuldan, but we nick named him Gruel for the simple reason he is horrible! Talk about merciless...
Panick sweeps through my veins like adrenaline and I wait to see what Karl says to us. He's always been the group leader, we mostly just follow his orders.
Karl shoves Rob and I aside and gruffly grabs the young girls sleeve.
"Tell anyone, and we'll do worst next time".
That tears it. Something inside my snaps, and suddenly, im beside Karl.
Im raising my arm.
My fist is flying.
I recoil my arm from Karls mouth and just release what i've done.
My hand is covered in blood, and as I look down onto the palm of my hand, amidst the blood, I see a small white tooth.
Well, this is my first Chapter complete!
I had planned to make it much larger, but it seems ive had too split one chapter into two.
Look out for the next Chapter coming in a few days, and ive decided rather than to post my progress on my LJ account, im just going to post it below each chapter, like this.
Well, currently im feeling pretty confused, as ever, and slightly down, but maybe things will perk up!
I would like to say
Special thanks to some of the people who have helped with/inspired this story, I hope you know who you are!
Dedicated to my crush, whom has inspired this story, and whom I can never be with.
(LMAO MELLO DRAMATIC IS MY MIDDLE NAME) Current Mood: Jealous and Distant.
|Monday, January 2nd, 2006|
I'm just going here to start the first chapter of my book, 'The Staff of a ghost'. This is my third book now, completely un-related to my other two, so expect to see the first chapter within the next few days! I've only written a few pages, so as you can expect, im not that far into it.
Well, wish me luck folks, as I try to get this thing done, although I may be slowed by the ever-looming school around the corner... Current Mood: Extremely Jealous
|Prologue - The Staff of a Ghost
The man wore a long, frosty white cloak, laced in black rope. He gave of a strange chill, the ground below him cracking under his power. His face was hidden. A large, loose hood hung over was his face should have been, a dark shadow concealing identity. His hands were also white, yet his fingers were slightly blackened at the tips. As he moved his hands, his fingers snapped in and out of place. Below the huge cloak, there was a strange wisp of smoke, flowing under him like a chimney blowing in the wind. The strange gas billowed silently from under him, there was no way of telling whether he had feet or not. Clasped in his icy cold, rigid hands, was a long pole, layered in bone. The stick was oddly shaped, as though carved, but the carver had suddenly died half way through. At its peak, a small skull had been set atop a gold rim. Silently, the man scanned his surroundings. He was in a large room, en-rot with only a few items. The room itself was in-fact, not a room at all, but a strange mist. The smoke-like gas floated silently around, yet they were like walls, blocking out light, scenery, - enemies. A small table sat in the mist, carved from pure bone, covered with cobwebs, layered in dust. The place was freezing, no light, no sun, and no warmth. Along side the table, lay a large chair, yet it was not carved in bone, wood, stone or anything else. The strange mists of the room had morphed, giving the perfect shape of a chair. The man silently glided over to the mists, and sat down, resting his disfigured arms on top of them.
It was now, or never. Silently, the girl reached into her pocket and drew out a strange object. It was like a cup, yet it had two handles, and a small bag attached to the end. The cup was crafted from a crystal blue stone, and shimmered magnificently even in the dark room. The handles were made from a curious black stone, not cut beautifully at all, but were like two irregular wedges. The small bag at the end was made of brown, finely cut leather, clearly made by an excellent craftsman. The girl shuddered as she crept through the mists. She braced herself for the next part of her mission. She had made it this, far she could finish it, she was sure.
The girl wore a long, pitch-black cloak, running from around her neck down to her feet. A purple rope was cast around her waist, and she wore two large black boots, buckled with metal. Her long brown hair hung down over the hood of her cloak, beautiful, and mysterious. Two entrancing brown eyes sat on her face; which shone brightly in the mists.
Carefully, she crept slowly towards the man, taking extra care in her steps not to make a sound. The girl was behind the mans curious throne of mists; she braced herself for her next act. The girl was directly behind the man now; any movement and she would be discovered. A brilliant smell radiated from the man, enticing her forward, not like any scent she had expected. It was luscious, as though sapped directly from a rose. It shocked the girl that it was the scent flowing from a man like this.
She gripped the object in her hand tighter, just a few more steps and it would be all over.
Suddenly, the man whipped around, his mystifying chair wafting with him. The girls hand shot behind her back, concealing her strange trinket.
Through the terrible darkness of the hood, the man silently watched the girl, and a horrible silence cast itself between them, until finally, the man broke it.
“What are you doing here?” his voice was deep, although it was shaking, almost as though he was afraid.
The girl did not answer only glare at him firmly. His frosty white cloak was shaking silently - she had terrified him.
“Answer me!” he tried to raise his voice, but with poor results. He sounded like a child who had just had a nightmare.
A mysterious whooshing could be heard among the mists, which had started growing thicker, moving closer together, and blocking the two silhouettes from view.
Carefully, the girl pulled out the strange trinket from behind her back. The man gasped in amazement when his gaze caught it.
A crooked grin pasted itself onto girls face, as she herself studied the object with intent.
The mans throne wavered and disappeared, allowing him to stand on his feet; giving the reassurance he could run. The staff he was holding shook in his perturbed arms, the eyes of the skull atop harnessing a deep, blood red contrast.
“Where did you get that?” spat the man, now afraid and enraged, a dangerous combination. The girl shrugged carelessly and shot the man a powerful glance.
“What do you want?!” he shouted, his voice echoing irregularly in the realm they were in.
“Its not what I want,” spoke the girl softly, with a voice of an angel, not a devil. “Its what master wants”.
The girl’s free hand stretched out smoothly, gracefully, as though she was a princess. A single finger stretched from out curled fist, pointing at the mans ancient staff. Her sleeve blew delicately in the winds of the room.
“I can’t allow that!” retorted the man, afraid of the girl’s intentions. “Do you know what this is?”
A puzzled expression flickered onto the girls face, like a broken torch, but she shrugged the comment off and grasped onto her mysterious trinket with both hands. Her fine skin wrapped round the two handles, a hand on each. She dug her feet into the ground, kicking up dirt and stone.
“Why are you doing this?” inquired the man sadly, his voice strained with emotion.
“I told you!” the girl replied peacefully, “My master has commanded me!”
“But you – you people have never been our enemies!”
The girl cleared her throat comically, fluttered her eyelashes and cooed: “Us people? You are ever so kind. My master is not, ‘one of us people.”
The man was disgusted at the girls’ attitude; he was now shaking all over. He gripped his staff tightly between his cracking fingers, raised his arms and chanted a strange word.
A blue flame erupted around the staff’s skull top, burning brightly. It flickered and spat angrily, sparks blowing in every direction.
“I don’t want to do this!” spoke the hooded man softly, searching for reason. A few drops of water dripped from under the secluded hood, and were lost to the misty earth below.
The young girl sighed deeply as she started at the man quietly.
Was it really worth it? This one act would change the world forever. But for good, or for bad?
The man’s arms lowered slowly, cracking deeply under his cloak. A small puddle evaporated just in front of him, his tears being lost to the air. He looked kindly at the girl and set his staff on the misty earth below him.
“I’m glad this is what you have chosen”.
The two were in an un-natural trance, standing before one another, not budging.
“Please, leave”. Spoke the man softly, a hint of nervousness on his voice.
The girl only stood in silence, exhilarating memories, thoughts and things flipping through her mind.
What had she got herself into…
Why was she here?
The cloaked man stiffened as the mysterious female chanted under her breath. He hadn’t been spared it all. He was going to die.
Suddenly, the object in the girl’s delicate hands shone a deep blue, mesmerising the man. At least his last sight would be a beautiful one. The girls chanting continued, her red lips moving up and down in the fog. Sweat poured down in beads off the mans arms, his eyes red and bloodshot.
Bright light broke the fog to pieces, and the man was gone, never to walk the earth again.
Silently, the girl walked over the where the man had once stood. Her eyes were bleary with tears, her mind riddled with questions.
Carefully she placed her odd weapon into her pocket, and then gracefully she stretched out her hands to grab the staff the man had once held. Her smooth fingers wrapped around the even smoother staff of bone, and she carefully lifted it into her grasp. The curious rod was heavy in her delicate hands, yet it held a strange fix on her. As ever, the girl shrugged it off and slipped the staff into the fine rope around her waist.
Time to leave, the girl thought grimly as the weight of what she had just did crushed her. There was no going back now.
Silently, she slipped through the mists, and was gone.
“How did it come to this?”
A tall man cloaked in gold stood atop a large hill, the fabric of his cloak swaying glumly in the breeze, though glittering beautifully in the moon. A strange chain was wrapped around his waist, and in his hands he clasped a small stone.
All around him were the sounds of war, screaming, shouting – crying. Beyond him in the night sparked thousands of tiny torches in the distance, flickering off every time a warrior fell.
The man fumbled with the stone in his hand, rolling it around his fingers. Again, he played with the question in his mind
‘How did it come to this?’
******** Current Mood: mischievous