tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38356612732047776382024-03-05T03:46:49.628-08:00Flowers and ShurikensA simple blog of original poems, stories, and other writings. Topics are as random as the people who write about them.Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-61199060210563390842014-06-30T11:51:00.002-07:002014-06-30T11:51:42.704-07:00Her life began to rhyme<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Now she finds she had been wrong<br />
To look that way and sing her song<br />
For once she turned the other way<br />
There emerged a new, better day<br />
And then her life began to rhyme<br />
As her joy grew over time<br />
And though she knows not how long it will last<br />
She can only hope that it won't end so fast<br />
It all began all at once<br />
And has only been about a month<br />
But the time has felt like forever<br />
And each memory remains her treasure.</div>
Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-11235814338061877072014-01-26T00:19:00.001-08:002014-01-26T00:19:55.920-08:00~love stwythLook at this old sad blog.<br />
Sitting in the corner of the internet<br />
Like the poor dust sits when<br />
The vacuum forgets about it.<br />
<br />
~stwythAber N.T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07413761687920519700noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-35109859534216171712013-01-01T21:52:00.001-08:002013-01-01T21:52:40.710-08:00Just Imagine For A Moment..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
What if you got stuck in a never-ending tunnel, the harsh wind ushering you forward at alarming speeds, never willing you to slow nor stop. Maybe there could be others in this tunnel. Take a moment to imagine all this. The horror you must feel, so out of control, unable to keep hold or keep track. The outcries of anyone who first enters, which fade over time as one becomes more accustomed to the idea, though the confusion continues to wreak chaos in the mind; there is nothing you can possibly do to help yourself, no way of escaping. But, it is much too difficult to accept such a thought. No, anyone who enters this tunnel forever racks the brain for a way to end it.<br />
<br />
Now, picture this: people begin to disappear around you in this dimly-lit, murky tunnel. They vanish into dust, leaving no trace of their ever being there. Where could they have gone? Were they able to escape? Perhaps you could, you would, disappear as well. Perhaps this was your way out. But how to disappear? One could not just simply will themselves to *poof* into thin air. Oh, but you wish you could, and the knowledge that you are completely unable to, and the idea that you may just be here forever while others may be escaping, nearly drives you to tears. But the enormous speed at which you are traveling immediately dries all waters that may flow from your eyes.<br />
<br />
You still don't know how they disappeared, at this point, and you become increasingly frustrated as you attempt to fathom what mysterious force could possibly have caused this phenomenon. And why it hadn't taken you yet. By now most of the people in the tunnel are gone.<br />
<br />
Finally you begin to slow down, just a little. Just enough to see what lies plastered against the walls of the tunnel. Faces. The faces of the others from you journey staring down at you, lifeless. The crimson drops from the dangling bodies echo through the cavern, and your eyes widen in shock and terror. Perhaps now you are glad you hadn't disappeared with the rest of them? Perhaps you are just a bit more gracious of your current state, of your place in the tunnel?<br />
<br />
Still, you don't know how this happened. <i>How could they- Who would think to- Why aren't I- </i>Is probably what runs through your head right now. You don't have a particular emotion right now, it's more like all feelings, mixed into a bitter juice and shoved down your throat.<br />
<br />
Now the wind speeds you up again, and you try not to turn back as you move away from the others. There, in the distance, now lies what looks like the end of the tunnel: a beam of light that throws rainbows onto the walls and hope into your heart. Your mouth opens in surprise (and a bit of excitement), as the ray of light grows bigger and bigger. Finally, you reach the end, and your little smile drops, but the mouth remains agape.<br />
<br />
The largest and most grotesque creature you could possibly imagine gives off a sort of repulsing glow. Its face is full of hairy lumps, puss gushing, and a mouth the likes of which could make you faint just by the smell. Its teeth are a color which teeth should not be, and a chunky swamp-colored liquid oozes through the parting of its lips. There are many more features that are sickening to the eye, but are better left to your own imagination.<br />
<br />
As you approach, its disgusting mouth widens into a nasty grin. Its laugh sprays the chunky drool over you, causing you to shiver in both contempt and fear. It brings its face closer to yours, and stares into your wide, frightened eyes with his evil orbs of an indescribable color. You try to step back from it but the wind keeps you where you are. The creature opens its mouth again, this time to speak.<br />
<br />
"Hello, my precious <i>darling</i>," it utters, stroking your chin with its huge, slimy finger.<br />
<br />
You scream as its mouth widens to welcome you inside, and your cries continue as you land between its teeth, for the scene stops abruptly, becoming a pure darkness, and you swing yourself up into a sitting position. Your blankets are rumpled, scattered all over the bed, and a bit of sweat and drool dots your pillow. You lay back down and bury your face in the soft, yet damp, cushion, grateful just to be alive.</div>
Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-14497146914321055082012-12-29T18:24:00.002-08:002012-12-29T18:24:42.089-08:00The Elephant Stone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Following the path outlined by thousands of small white daisy petals, Lilia increased her pace with every eager step she took. Closer and closer drew the light at the end of the tunnel of trees. No time to stop and admire the beauty of it all, no time to take in the succulent scents of the things she never knew.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There is was: the elephant stone. It was said that if you stood at just the right angle, and listened with all the drums you could possibly listen with, you could just make out the sound of a newborn elephant playing his first trumpet, brass as the light that filtered through the trees. That was why she was here. Legend said that once you heard this elephant stone play, you would feel no bitterness, no animosity. All would become clear, and you would no longer feel hate.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lilia circled the stone, meticulously searching for the place on which she needed to stand. A faint sound. Anything. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A light breeze entered the clearing. Minuscule hills formed on her arms, and a chill ran through her body. The wind grew stronger, nudging her. She surrendered to this force, moving in the direction of the wind. She reached the edge of the clearing, and suddenly, she was pushed again, only in the other direction. It arrived at her front, her back, left, right, until finally it had positioned her in such a way that satisfied this wind. It stopped. The clearing was still.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There was the hum. Lilia turned her head slowly, both ways, and as she gazed to her right, at the sun, the hum was a bit louder. She continued in this direction, bubbling with excitement. Louder and louder the hum grew, until it gave off a more vibrant aura. It pounded against her eardrums, the powerful blast of an elephant's trumpet. She had found it, and with it, she had not a care in the world.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As she walked away, however, Lilia did not feel any different from before. She did not feel enlightened, or empowered in any way. In fact, she merely longed to hear the elephant again, if only once more. After a moment of internal negotiation, she turned and rushed back to the clearing in which it lay. She recognized the spot, and remembered clearly how her head was turned. And yet, no elephant trumpeted for her this time. Not even a hum. Lilia frantically whipped her head in all directions, walking swiftly around the place she had stood before. Nothing. Only silence.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Horrified, Lilia turned and ran, ran as quickly as she could away from the stone. Confusion turned to frustration, which quickly became anger, and finally, she couldn't handle it. No, she began to hate the stone, the legend, the forest, and herself. Why couldn't she make it work again? Life was not nearly complete without this wonderful symphony the stone had produced. She could almost, barely, remember how it felt. Wonderful. But she would not, could not, feel it again. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After a long while of running, the clearing and the elephant stone behind her, her legs collapsed and Lilia sank down to the damp soil, leaves crunching beneath her knees. She broke down in tears, not knowing how to justify such intense emotion, and yet it all made perfect sense. At this point, she couldn't even remember how she was before she encountered the stone. She couldn't remember her positive attitude, her thirst for adventure, her love for the people in her life... All that mattered now was the nagging feeling of emptiness tugging at her heart, which she could not possibly shake off nor embrace, and it pained her both to think of it and to attempt to ignore it. She could not decide which pained her more. In fact, each put her in more pain than the thought of death. She couldn't possibly live like this anymore.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You probably know what happened next: Lilia rose slowly to her feet, and turned to face the edge of the trees, the edge of the cliff. She broke into a strong, determined run, more and less sure of it than anything in her entire life. Lilia threw herself from the cliff, taking what felt like an enormous leap toward the other side, when it was merely a jump into what life lay ahead.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Perhaps you feel her act was irrational, silly, pitiful, or perhaps it made sense to you. Unfortunately, dear reader, I cannot tell you which it was, nor can I even try to define it. All I can think to say is, if you wish to know how she felt, and why Lilia could have even thought to react this way, ask her yourself. Or, if you dare to venture there, visit the elephant stone, and listen to the sweet brass of the fresh elephant.</div>
</div>
Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-87402728371520784202012-07-06T18:08:00.003-07:002012-07-06T18:08:47.145-07:00flowers and showers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
follow the flowers<br />
for hours and hours,<br />
and never look back<br />
on the things you may lack.<br />
watching and waiting,<br />
your thoughts are debating<br />
whether you continue,<br />
or if you will stop.<br />
<br />
never worry,<br />
never hurry,<br />
just find your rhyme.<br />
<span style="background-color: white;">always going,</span><br />
always flowing,<br />
works every time.<br />
<br />
smile at the glade,<br />
before you must bade<br />
adieu to flowers,<br />
and flee the sky showers.<br />
but never forget,<br />
for it has been set:<br />
this time with the trees,<br />
in your mind it buzzes like swarms of bees.</div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-91597652570138342522012-06-25T20:02:00.000-07:002012-06-25T20:02:45.309-07:00how are you feeling?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
how were you feeling yesterday?<br />
I didn't have the chance to ask before.<br />
I hope you were well and bright as May,<br />
and that your day was not a bore.<br />
<br />
so, how are you feeling today?<br />
I'm glad I get to talk to you now.<br />
hope you feel even better than yesterday,<br />
and that your sky has no clouds.<br />
<br />
but how will you feel when it is tomorrow?<br />
will I be able to ask you then?<br />
hopefully you will feel no sorrow,<br />
and that I will see you soon again.</div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-73107422421357597762012-06-25T19:54:00.001-07:002012-06-25T20:03:13.060-07:00kokoro kara<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">oh my kokoro</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">full of such sorrow</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">how will I know when</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">it shall be tomorrow?</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">can I still love you</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">when you don't love me, too?</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">with all my kokoro,</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">yes I still do.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">your smile, it blossoms like a hana</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">every time I see it I wanna</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">smile with you,</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">as flora and fauna.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">but can I still love you</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">when you don't love me, too?</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">like butterflies to hana, </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">yes I still do.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">when I'm with you I'm full of hikari,</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">but if I'm embarrassing then I'm sorry.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I just want you </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">to hear my story.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">but can I still love you</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">when you don't love me, too?</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">like the sun's hikari,</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">yes I still do.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">why would you be surprised</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">that I love you?</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">you can see in my eyes</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">that I still do.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 14px; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">I wrote this on Figment before, but I really enjoyed it, so I am putting it here as well. Hope you enjoyed it, too. :)</span></i></div>
</div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-73357659890637035352012-05-12T18:36:00.000-07:002012-05-12T18:36:53.344-07:00Smile Like the Wind..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Do you see the way the wind blows?<br />
How it moves with the world,<br />
And tickles your nose?<br />
Where does it go once it has passed?<br />
Everywhere and nowhere.<br />
Forever it lasts.<br />
But what of the smile it leaves on your face?<br />
Does it shine for a moment,<br />
Then leave without a trace?<br />
No, a smile can last forever,<br />
And like the everlasting wind,<br />
Continues its endeavor.<br />
So though life may sometimes seem cruel,<br />
Remember to smile,<br />
And like the wind, stay cool.</div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-75049098583321073452012-05-12T18:26:00.000-07:002012-05-12T18:26:13.801-07:00QR code!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3j-ZwaHqqsFmTfpUHU57GuUlpzu1Yf9skMB7pEOKkL6JZG7j8Pc0jp1p9oXJzqm_J61YYqm1v9uSvHNo6h8PpchwmueqNkVTmwRTUY7zuSevNqc3gvoBwFF3_XO1VRCpY2urOS10U8csz/s1600/feiries+etc+qr.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3j-ZwaHqqsFmTfpUHU57GuUlpzu1Yf9skMB7pEOKkL6JZG7j8Pc0jp1p9oXJzqm_J61YYqm1v9uSvHNo6h8PpchwmueqNkVTmwRTUY7zuSevNqc3gvoBwFF3_XO1VRCpY2urOS10U8csz/s1600/feiries+etc+qr.PNG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3j-ZwaHqqsFmTfpUHU57GuUlpzu1Yf9skMB7pEOKkL6JZG7j8Pc0jp1p9oXJzqm_J61YYqm1v9uSvHNo6h8PpchwmueqNkVTmwRTUY7zuSevNqc3gvoBwFF3_XO1VRCpY2urOS10U8csz/s1600/feiries+etc+qr.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<br />
I made a QR code for the blog!!! Yay!! These things are fun to scan so if you have an app for scanning these then you can get to this blog with it. But.. there's no point in posting this on the blog to get to the blog if you're.. already.... here.. hmm.. Oh well. 'Tis all in good fun :)</div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-12188180291981523662012-04-16T17:07:00.001-07:002012-04-16T17:07:45.213-07:00Flower Beds or Orange Groves?Where should I leave to today,<br />
<br />
The flower beds or the orange groves?<br />
<br />
Or perhaps to the lone tree of the concrete garden,<br />
<br />
Where I may sit on the concrete bench<br />
<br />
And watch the birds flutter in the concrete birdbath?<br />
<br />
I may go there, for in the flower beds I still see birds flutter,<br />
<br />
And in the orange groves I still see trees.<br />
<br />
So perhaps I shall stroll out the door,<br />
<br />
And sit across the way on my concrete bench.Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-77373598187173662522012-04-16T16:59:00.000-07:002012-04-16T16:59:29.108-07:00O Fallen ChildWeep, o fallen smile,<br />
<br />
Fill yourself with the sweet salt<br />
<br />
Of your self-pity and regret.<br />
<br />
But do not weep so much that perhaps<br />
<br />
You drown in your sorrows, for<br />
<br />
All will be well, little fallen child,<br />
<br />
Pick yourself back up<br />
<br />
And try not to fall so much anymore.Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-17434247233298394762012-04-05T18:53:00.002-07:002012-04-08T11:20:45.932-07:00Greet Us, Dear Spring<div style="text-align: center;">Upon the dusty curve of spring</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My fellow begonia likes to swing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The beaten sculpture likes to dance</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">While little milk boy swings his lance.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oho the spring has come for us!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Form a ring and sing 'til dusk!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sing 'til the day has gone away!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Dance 'til the moon casts its glow on the bay!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Riddles and stories and birds and rats</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">All are rising, even the cats.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The lanterns fall</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The trees stand tall!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Come spring, to greet us all!</div>Aber N.T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07413761687920519700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-60109549064846599772012-01-05T21:10:00.001-08:002012-01-07T12:44:29.683-08:00the music of emotion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Listen, the world speaks,<br />
But when do we really hear it?<br />
I listen to music in a reality<br />
That lives in my emotion,<br />
But what about the place<br />
Where I must continue?<br />
My heart drops<br />
Like the dew after sunrise<br />
When I wake up from what is untrue<br />
To most,<br />
And I always live my days<br />
With one foot in my head.</div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-87954270756655826902011-12-05T19:52:00.001-08:002011-12-31T12:55:27.247-08:00Belinadae<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, it wasn't always this way. I used to be able to stare at nothing and somehow find truth in what I saw. But now that's not possible. The many truths of this world are set in stone. So when the supervisor of our section asked me if I knew why I was punished, all I could say was, "Because I lied. Lysel is always right."<br />
<br />
That morning, I woke, as usual, at four o'clock, so that I could get to the cotton farm on time. It's horrible work, cotton farming, but I was told that "someone's gotta do it", so I don't question my place. I thought it unfair that the curly black-haired Linbies did not need to work each day; they were the ones who told us where to go and what to do when we got there. But, once again, there was a reason for that, too. It turned out that those with jet black curly hair had more brains to hide with such hair than those of us with green and chestnut locks upon our heads. I myself happened to have straight, deep green strands hanging from my head, and that classified me as one of the dumber Linbies, one of those who were best working on a cotton farm.<br />
<br />
So here I am, working until the blisters on my hands from the previous day grow raw and red, in Section 3 of the cotton farm owned by the beautiful black, curly-haired Pamwi. She was the daughter of none other than our even more handsome, more tyrannical leader, Lysel. We all hated him. He was the one who came up with what I thought was the most ridiculous segregation between different kinds of people, the one between people with different hair. I knew that I wasn't really dim-witted, or I wouldn't be able to think such things. Heck, I wouldn't be able to write this without making an enormously amount of grammatical errors. Oh. Well, this can't be erased, so let us ignore that, please.<br />
<br />
"Don't be forgettin' that we best be meeting our quota of a two hunderd pounds o' cotton by midnight tonight, understand, Section 3?" I was woken from my thoughts by the cruel reminder of our required quantity of work given to us by our section leader, Mecila, whose head was blanketed by black but straight strands of what looked like silk. Re-inspired by my inner anger, as well as a new discontentment that came from the utterly bad grammar used by, supposedly, our superior. And she's said to have more brains; no way that's true.<br />
<br />
"My, my, two hunderd pounds, ya say? My, that Lysel be piling tha work on thick now, don'tcha think?" I said in my best impersonation of her accent, "That man don't know what he be doin', naw he don't. If he wants ta keep that there position he's got, then he best be easier on his devoted workers, now don't he?" The look on Mecila's face knocked everyone watching into next month. Redder than ever, and her lips twisted in a way that shouldn't be possible for a normal Linbie, she glared at me in contempt and rage.<br />
<br />
Forcefully, she grabbed me by the wrist, half-dragged me behind the nearest tree, took out a cowhide whip, and pinned me, back to her, against the tree. I knew it was coming, and I wished I hadn't spoken. She had folded the whip in half, and began lashing at my back, my shirt pulled up to my shoulders. I winced with every stroke of her cruel brush, hoping each time that it would be the last one. But it never seemed to end. It seemed I had made her genuinely upset, and now I was going to pay for the way I had humiliated her. Not that she had had a positive reputation among the cotton farmers, anyway.<br />
<br />
It wasn't until she finally stopped and turned me around again that an angry tear fell down my cheek. "Now, Section 3, Number 67, do you understand why you were punished?" The only thing I could say to keep myself from being whipped again was, as you know, "Because I lied. Lysel is always right."<br />
<br />
So that was that day, and it continued and ended the way my days always ended: work until ten, and supper at home by ten thirty. I still knew that my world wasn't the way it should be, and I wanted to fix it, but my creative mind had left me back when Lysel had taken my perfect-for-society parents as his personal guards, and left me by myself. Back when the rules were established, and I could no longer think outside the box. And so, there was no way for me to formulate a plan to fix things, and there wasn't anyone who could who wasn't happy with their current standings on the social ladder.<br />
<br />
For yet another year, my life remained the same. However, when I was walking one day on our only day off of work, Lysel's birthday, of course, I came across a pair of travelers. "Hello," said the woman, "Could you tell us if we are anywhere near Maziron?" Maziron, as I had gathered from my secret studies, was a long ways away from Lyslia. "Maziron is quite far from here. Are you lost?" "Yes," replied the man, "My wife and I are on our way to her parents' home to have her baby." "Congratulations," I said, "Well, it's very late. Would you like to stay the night in my home before continuing your journey?" "Yes, please," he replied with a smile after a sideways glance at the woman, "Thank you for your hospitality." "Of course," I smiled back at them. They looked so happy, like my parents and I had been. My mother had been pregnant, too. "I'm Vedy, and my husband is called Ralbu," said the woman. "Oh, sorry. I'm Belinadae," I replied, "Nice to meet you both." A smile stretching from ear to ear, I led the couple back to my home.<br />
<br />
The following morning, I awoke to leave for the cotton farm, when Vedy turned to me from her mat on the floor. "Where are you going so early in the morning?" she asked. "Work," I replied. "Work?" she asked with a puzzled look on her face, "But you're so young." "I am? Some of the people who work at the cotton farm with me are seven or eight years old." "Really? That sounds horrific. Why would anyone make children work on a cotton farm?" This thought puzzled me. For the majority of my life, it had been this way. I'd been working for Mecila ever since I had turned six. My first working day was my birthday. And I remembered how it had been the most horrible experience of my young life.<br />
<br />
<i>When I had woken up that day, I walked into the kitchen to see my parents sitting at the table with somber faces. When they had told me that I had to go to work that day, I didn't even know what that meant. Until Lysel entered our glorious little world, no one under twenty needed to work. And so I was appalled at the idea. Nonetheless, I walked out the door with my head held high. I soon found out I had been much too confident for my own good.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>Later in the day, after many tears over the hard labor on my fragile body, my mind began to wander. I began staring at nothing in particular, pondering the many various thoughts bouncing around in my curious little brain. I started to focus on what the reason might have been for my having to work today. And who had decided this; surely my parents hadn't wanted this to happen. And then the whip fell. The first whip on my back I had ever felt. It was full of anger at whoever had been wielding it, and my back stung well into the next hour. "Back ta work, missy. We don't be needin' sleepers on this here farm." I turned around to see a gorgeous woman, but her beauty had no matter to me, as all I could look at were her cruel, snobby expression. I could tell that she was not from here. She couldn't be; everyone in what had been Dahlini (before Lysel arrived, of course) was like family, not like this. Every Linbie was equal. Right?</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
"Because some believe that others are theirs to control," I replied sadly, "And I'm afraid their minds won't change." I turned and strolled out the door, staring at the ground. I guess I had lost my confidence over the years.<br />
<br />
I followed my usual path along the edge of Pamwi's brother's apple orchard, trying not to be seen by the men who kept watch from the roof of their master's house. I began to remember what it felt like to be beaten, and I noticed that now that I had gotten used to such cruelties, they did not seem so bad as they truly were; it was all commonplace. If only everything could go back. But I knew that one could not turn back time, that everything was as it was, and it couldn't be forgotten.<br />
<br />
As I worked myself harder and full of anger throughout the day, I felt that perhaps I could change things. Perhaps I could make my world a better place to live in. And so, after hours of painful labor, I began to head home, a faint smile dancing on my lips.<br />
<br />
When I walked through the doorway, I found that Vedy and Ralbu had already left. I went to the table and began to set out some things for my supper, when I noticed a small slip of parchment with scraggly writing on it. It read:<br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>Belinadae, thank you very much for allowing us to rest in your home for the night. I am sorry we were not able to give you a proper goodbye, but we couldn't stay any longer. We hope that your situation will soon improve, and we believe you are capable of great things. Also, after much thought, we have finally decided on a name for our baby: your name. It is a very beautiful name, and it is the name of someone who knows how to dream. Again, thank you so much. Best wishes, Vedy and Ralbu.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
Learning of the baby's name touched my heart, and I felt that I hadn't done enough for such an honor. However, hearing that they "hope my situation will soon improve" inspired my anger at our society even further. I knew what I had to do. I walked back out the door and down the road toward Lysel's home. It was easy to find; it was the only house big enough to be seen above the treetops. I walked up the path to the front door, being sure to keep my head high. With no hesitation, I pounded on the door with a fist full of contempt. Soon after, the doors swung slowly open.<br />
<br />
I strode into the front courtyard that appeared in front of me, fuming. As I reached the next set of doors, however, I was stopped by a pair of guards armed with spears. "You may not pass," explained one of them. "And why not, may I ask?" I questioned. "Our lord Lysel does not welcome uninvited guests, especially ordinary citizens, into his main hall," replied the other. With no real thought I grabbed hold of their heads and pushed them into each other. With a loud <i>bonk, </i>they feel to the ground.<br />
<br />
I pushed open the doors to a large, carpeted room. At the far end was Lysel, sitting upon a golden throne. "And whom do I have here, invading my home?" He said with a sideways grin, "Ah, yes, the daughter of my two most loyal advisers." He clapped twice, and I watched, full of sadness, as my mother and father walked into the room, wearing clothes almost as glamorous as Lysel's.<br />
<br />
"Gemzolin, Frisnala, greet your daughter." "Hello, Belinadae," came the cracked voice of my father. "Hello, father," I replied, a tear falling down my bruised cheek. I couldn't bear to look at them. They seemed to be pampered, but on the inside, they hadn't yet been able to get over the dismay of our separation, not even after ten years. But I understood where they were coming from. I still couldn't let go of them either.<br />
<br />
"So, why are you here? Have you come to revolt? Surely you aren't planning on ending my rule with an army of one." He laughed, and it was an evil laugh. I brought my head back up, and replied, in a voice as strong as I could muster, "Perhaps I am. Perhaps I am not. But I must bring to your attention the cruelties you have brought to our peaceful land, to Dahlini." "Dumb girl, do you think I do not realize this? Do you think that if you tell me this, that I shall quietly leave? No! Who, in their right mind, would give up such a wonderful position as mine, for such an insignificant population?"<br />
<br />
"You are wrong! We of Dahlini are not insignificant! We are truly superior to you and all of your pawns, as we have realized, early on, the true meaning of life: equality and love among all Linbies. That is why we named our land as such! It is, as you must have known, the original Linbie word for "harmony". We will join together, as one being, to defeat you and end your tyrannical rule!"<br />
<br />
"Guards!" I turned to see a group of about six men running toward me. I was able to take one last regretful glance at my mother and father before the hilt of a sword knocked out my lights.<br />
<br />
I awoke many hours later, in a stone cell. Turning, to my left, I came face-to-face with a rotting corpse. After an initial cry of shock, I looked closer, finding that it was a young girl who had once helped me collect berries for the harvest festival. I couldn't gaze at her skeleton; there was too much destruction to be seen there. I tried to rise to my feet, but I soon found that my hands were chained to the wall.<br />
<br />
So this was where my anger had led me: to a cell that would become my grave. I didn't want to think about death, or my hatred of the life I was forced to lead, or anything. I wanted to run away and never return. But, obviously, that wasn't possible. So what would I think about, with the rest of my life to do nothing but think. It was almost humorous; I was to begin and end my life with the ability to think deeply, and think what I wanted to.<br />
<br />
During the weeks I spent there, chained to the wall, I thought many things. I thought first of the most recent events, and later of things that had happened in my past. I then thought of what may have happened if things had gone differently, such as where I would be now if Lysel had never come. How wonderful life would be now! I wouldn't be dying. But I later realized that everything is for a reason, and things will one day be okay again.<br />
<br />
After about three weeks of thinking much and eating little, I was told that I was to be hanged. I asked what that was. "We tie a rope around your neck, and pull you up by it so that your neck snaps and you die." It sounded horrific. I wasn't sure if I would be able to live up until then. I continued to shiver as the man unlocked the restraints on my arms, and as he pulled me up the stairs and out of the dungeons.<br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<i>To be continued..</i></div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-61269344913872576382011-12-05T19:51:00.001-08:002011-12-05T19:52:04.729-08:00LIKE A BOSS.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just found out I can make the blog formatted to fit mobile devices. Sweet! Love it when I don't have to zoom in and scroll in every direction. :) Betcha wanna see now. I know I did. :)</div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-69380836340809733362011-08-20T11:16:00.000-07:002011-08-20T14:17:47.390-07:00Your Typical Suspenseful High School Romance Story<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Leta closed her eyes. Everything would go back to normal if she woke up right now. She would be back home, in her bed. Nothing was happening. It was all a dream.<div>She opened her eyes, only to find that nothing had gone away. She wasn't in her bed, she was in a strange room. Eyes stared at her with one purpose and one purpose only. To eat her.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Everything began on the first day of school. Every story with a frightening and suspenseful climax begins at school. Everyone knows that. In fact, Leta knew that, too. She had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that something would happen, all due to the events of this day. High school. She had heard multiple opinions on the matter. Some said it was great; you meet new people, new teachers, and a new place. It's a fresh start. Others said that it's horrible; you're isolated and/or bullied, and freshman get egged on Fridays. Of course, movies and books that take place in high school that lead to encounters with suspicious and malevolent characters, like <i>Twilight,</i> <i>Wings, </i>and that kind of thing, were another issue. She didn't know who to believe, so she would have to find out for herself.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She got on her bike and hesitantly lifted the kickstand. When she got to the school, it was bustling with people. A LOT of people. Taking out her bike lock, she wondered who was true. So far nothing had gone wrong, but it wasn't too late for something to happen. Once her bike was locked, she walked quickly and discreetly to the entrance, not pausing to ask anyone for directions, even though she needed them. <i>103A. That's where I go, right? </i>She looked at her schedule. At least she got that much right.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Looking for 103A, are you?" Leta turned to see someone leaning over her shoulder.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Y-yes."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Well that's on the first floor. The bigger numbers are farther away from the entrance." His voice was confident and smooth. "You've got some ways to go. I'll come with you if you want. My first class is a few doors down anyway."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Um, okay." Leta was overwhelmed. How could he be so sure of himself?</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Oh, sorry. I'm Reask, by the way. I'm a sophomore."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>Oh, that's why he's not nervous.</i></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>"I-I'm Leta."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Cool name."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Y-you too."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>They walked in silence. He seemed okay with that. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Leta sat with the same silence for the duration of Algebra. She listened and took notes, and never raised her hand or spoke. When it was finally over, Leta quickly put her things back in her backpack and was the first out the door.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Just as it would be in any other typical suspenseful high school story, Reask was waiting for her just outside the classroom, leaning one hand against the wall.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Hey there."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Um, hi."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Hey, you wanna come have lunch with me and my friends today?"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She looked up for the first time that day. His face was perfectly shaped, and his skin was flawless, just like any suspicious boy in any story like this. However, this time, it didn't bother her.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Sure." She didn't stammer, and she smiled. That was her one big mistake.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>After a few weeks, Leta wasn't shy anymore. She knew where to go, what to do, and, most importantly, who her friends were. Reask and the others. Reask had two older sisters in junior year, named Jalia and Gifra, who treated Leta as one of their own. He also had a brother who was a freshman, just like Leta. His name was Lysagh. He had been shy as well when they first met, and Leta knew they would be good friends. Now she never ate lunch alone, and Reask walked her to class. She always had someone to talk to.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Hey, Leta."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She turned and smiled. "Hey, Reask."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"So, I was wondering, would you wanna go somewhere with me Friday?"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Um, sure. Where to?" Just like the movies. She should run. But she didn't.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"My favorite place in the city."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Oh. Okay." This wasn't a good sign. But Leta was too excited to be cautious.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Great. I'll pick you up at eight?"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Okay, great."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"'Kay. See you then," he said in his low, beautiful voice.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Coming!"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Leta zipped down the stairs to the front door.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Where you going?" her mom called.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Reask is taking me somewhere."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Ooh. Well, okay but don't do anything stupid.'</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I won't. Bye, mom."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Bye. Have fun."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Leta opened the door to see Reask standing in his usual jeans and T-shirt.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Hey."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Hey. Aren't you cold?"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Nah. This is nothing."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Uh, okay. Let's go."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>They waited at the bus stop (neither of them could drive), and it was a while before Reask finally spoke.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Leta. Have you ever wondered why you're so beautiful?"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Leta was flattered, but confused. "What do you mean? I'm not that pretty."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Yes. You are. Like an angel."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He turned to her and cupped his hand around her cheek. As he leaned in closer, Leta forgot how to move. How to breathe. Their lips were a breath apart when the headlights of their bus came into view.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Leta suddenly remembered how to use her arms and legs, and she turned away from him and walked toward the door. He followed and put in $1.50. They sat silently as the bus moved, faster and faster. after about ten minutes, the bus stopped again.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"We're here."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>They both got up and walked out.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Thanks." Leta said to the bus driver as she passed him. They were on the sidewalk in front of a dilapidated old building. Leta was confused again.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"It's nicer inside. Come on."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>They strode to the door and Reask pulled out a key. The tumbles clicked as he unlocked the door.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Wait."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Reask turned to face her. "It'll be fine. Trust me."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She did. She trusted him. Maybe too much.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She followed him inside. It was dark. Reask pushed the door closed and the fear in Leta's gut built higher. Then a single lamp switched on. She saw the outlines of the faces of Jalia and Gifra, as well as some she didn't know, staring at her, their eyes full of hunger and rage.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Reask, what's going on?" Leta squealed, the fear overwhelming her.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Remember when I told you that you were like an angel?" Reask replied slyly from the shadows, "That's because you <i>are </i>an angel."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Leta gasped in shock. No way this was true.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Why do you think you were adopted? Demons killed your angel parents. Demons like <i>us.</i></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-style: italic; white-space: pre; "> </span>"But why do you want me?"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"You, my dear," Reask continued as he moved closer and held her cheek again, "Are the last of your kind."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Leta pushed his hand away and ran to the door. It was locked. Leta closed her eyes. Everything would go back to normal if she woke up right now. She would be back home, in her bed. Nothing was happening. It was all a dream.</div><div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She opened her eyes, only to find that nothing had gone away. She wasn't in her bed, she was in a strange room. Eyes stared at her with one purpose and one purpose only. To eat her.</div></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She watched as the demons moved in closer, closer, the perfection fading from their ravenous faces. She braced herself for what was to come.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i>Good bye, mom. Good bye, world. Good bye... Reask.</i></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span>"No! I won't let you eat her!"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Someone had jumped in front of her, she could hear their breathing near her. She opened her eyes. It was the back of Lysagh's head.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Brother, I <i>told </i>you not to interfere! I <i>told </i>you that if you're gonna be a vegetarian, you need to stop saving our food!"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Yes. But Leta's different. You betrayed her. She trusted you, and you turned on her." His voice was strained, "I'm not taking orders from someone like <i>you </i>anymore!"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Hm. I see. Would you kill me, then?"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"You may be my brother," Lysagh continued, "But if you still plan to eat Leta, I <i>will</i> kill you, brother. I love her. I don't love <i>you </i>anymore!"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Leta stood in shock. She hadn't spoken, and she didn't plan to.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"You have become blinded by anger. The angels may have killed our parents, but you have killed all but one. And I won't let you finish it."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"All right, then. If that's what you think. Come at me. I dare you."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Lysagh charged at him, and Reask dodged his blows, all with a smirk on his now deranged face. After some short amount of time, Lysagh looked up at his brother, guilt and sorrow in his eyes.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I'm so sorry it had to end this way, brother," he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small handgun. he squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled the trigger.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There was no blood. Just ash. Let a watched in amazement and horror at the black soot that was falling to the floor, erupting from Reask's body.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Lysagh turned to his sisters. "Sisters, please."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Say no more, Lysagh," said Jalia, "We didn't like this much, either."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Yeah, I like deer better anyway," said Gifra. Leta cringed at the thought of eating a deer.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Thank you."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Master Lysagh," came a voice from one of the new faces. This man was quite old, but his wrinkles were perfectly shaped. "We're all very sorry for causing you so much trouble. However, now that your brother is defeated, <i>you </i>are the heir to the throne.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>This was getting even more surprising by the minute.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Congratulations, Lord Lysagh," came another voice.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Thank you, too. All of you." He turned to Leta. "I'm so sorry about all of this. My brother, he-"</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Leta wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed herself up so their lips met. She felt his arms close around her. She wished this moment could go on forever. She finally brought her face away from his and smiled as she continued to look up at him.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I love you, too."</div><div>
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>So this is obviously one of those stories where the main characters are too young to know that they love each other, but they do anyway. Besides, it's an angel and a demon. They're more mature than they should be. :)</div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-3855054879346457652011-08-20T11:05:00.000-07:002011-08-20T11:16:04.253-07:00FOOL.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; ">FOOL.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(245, 245, 245); "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="">だます</span><span class="">。</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(245, 245, 245); "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="hps">Дурак</span><span class="">.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(245, 245, 245); "><span class="Apple-style-span">मूर्ख.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(245, 245, 245); "><span class="Apple-style-span">바보.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(245, 245, 245); "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="hps">خداع</span><span class="">.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(245, 245, 245); "><span class="Apple-style-span">Tonto.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(245, 245, 245); "><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(245, 245, 245); "><span class="Apple-style-span">Thank you, Google Translate.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: arial, sans-serif; background-color: rgb(245, 245, 245); "><span class="Apple-style-span">FOOL! <3 Excalibur</span></span></div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-78988726028376706952011-08-01T19:24:00.000-07:002011-08-01T19:24:00.920-07:00Muahahaha! Raven's Random Post!Ha! I'm posting on Echo's blog wether she likes it or not! Now... Let me think of something that REALLY irritates Echo... like... THERE'S A LEECH ON YOUR BACK!<br />
<br />
Let's see what else... like... nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan.<br />
<br />
Or let's see... like... YOUR FACE!<br />
<br />
Ok I can't think of anymore. Byebye =)Aber N.T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07413761687920519700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-25758077562103271352011-06-28T12:49:00.000-07:002011-06-29T14:38:24.535-07:00Keeper (continued)<u>Four</u><div><u><br /></u></div><div>Nyma stared in awe at the creatures that now surrounded her. She had never ventured far out of the Fort, so this was all new to her. </div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The shadows were indeed the close cousin to the piksy specie. The main differences between the shadows and the piksies were that the shadows were larger and had no wings. However, what truly puzzled Nyma was how much more quiet the shadows were. She soon learned, though, that as the shadows were a more ancient species, and hadn't evolved since creation, they are born able only to hiss and to speak to each other telepathically. The only exceptions to these terms were the shadows acting as the royal guard to the Dark Queen.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>As the shadows present moved around the hollow, Nyma grew colder and drowsier. Their presence and their energies overwhelmed her so. Rylma rushed to her side as Nyma collapsed, and ordered the shadows to back away, through hand gestures and telepathy. Nyma was fascinated by how well they obeyed.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The woscs, well, they were as different from the shadows as they could get. They were quite like the 'ducks' Nyma had heard of in nursery stories, they had hands and feet like humans', and their shape was a bit bizarre. It turned out that they lived on a lake at the southern part of the Land of Light, and they had no opinion on the possible outcome of the war. They just tended to themselves, but were glad to return the piksies' call.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Their tiny wings seemed as though they wouldn't be able to carry them. Nyma's thoughts were soon proven wrong, and she watched as the youngest woscs zipped through the air, at top speed, around and around the tree. Everyone was playing and chattering joyfully (except for the shadows, of course). Nyma was amused by their incredible amount of energy, despite the pressure that hung over their heads.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Silence!" erupted Rylma, and that's what came.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>to be continued...</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Read the rest once I finish it on Blurb (unless I DO decide to post more parts here)</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>:)</b></div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-64825498047220315522011-06-23T22:43:00.000-07:002011-06-23T23:05:23.957-07:00Keeper (continued)<u>Three</u> (cont.)<br /><br />The following afternoon, on the day that would determine the fate of Somaile, every piksy in the hollow and Nyma gathered at the foot of the great tree. The queen, whose name turned out to be Rylma, entered the center of the ring of people, wearing a white dress, made of what appeared to be linen, with a deep green shawl. She raised her right hand, and the piksies fell silent and their wings grew dark. Once she was certain that no other sounds were echoing through the hollow, she spoke.<br />"Today," Rylma began in a great, booming voice, "We summon the flying creatures of this land. Birds, insects, the like... Even woscs and shadows."<br />The crowd gasped at the realization that there would be those dark shadows in their midst.<br />"Today," she began again, "We save Somaile!"<br />At this confident and encouraging declaration, the piksies, along with Nyma, gave a cheer. Then all the piksies sat on flower petals, fallen leaves, and even mushrooms, cross-legged, and began chanting. Nyma decided that she should join in, and sat in the bright green grass, closed her eyes, and attempted to chant words similar to those being said by everyone else.<br />"<em>Hmmm.. nome veeehh. Hmmm.. no se me veeehh.." </em>everyone cried, over and over again, louder and louder.<br />Rylma chanted a different grouping of words, at different tones, "<em>Mo seee sheh mano fa rell... Mo seee sheh mano fa rell o..."</em><br />As the Grand Piksy continued to sing these prayers, a loud, thundering sound, something of a stampede, <em>but more... flappy, </em>Nyma thought, rumbled from the distance. It grew in volume, louder and LOUDER, until many creatures, riding on the air beneath their wings, found their way to the gathering of the piksies, and when they finally arrived at their doorstep, all fell silent.Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-62938466788685679332011-06-20T12:49:00.000-07:002011-06-20T12:52:23.923-07:00MusicThis is music.<br />Your words are music.<br />Every breath you take<br />Every move you make<br />Is music.<br />Your heart is music.<br />The sounds<br />The sights<br />The smells<br />Of everything<br />Is music because<br />Everything has a beat.Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-48954138110036760542011-06-20T12:15:00.000-07:002011-06-20T12:47:56.381-07:00Keeper (continued)<u>Three</u><br /><br />"Hush, my children," came the voice of the great light, "We have a visitor."<br />Nyma sat, breathless, upon the saddle as thousands of tiny lights circled around her. Their leader, as Nyma assumed, spoke again.<br />"So, what brings you here, daughter of Fyran?"<br />"Um.. I-I-I'm Nyma, and I came because my father is dead."<br />A ripple of high-pitched gasps of horror swept throughout the hollow. Nyma began again.<br />"And, um, as he is dead, um, I-I-I am now the Keeper of Somaile."<br />Another round of shocked responses erupted from the cloud of piksies.<br />"And what have you come to us for, Keeper?" replied the Grand Piksy.<br />"Grand Piksy, I seek your wisdom. Please provide me the answers to my questions. I am young. I don't know what to do. I need your help to save Somaile in the next two days!" Nyma exclaimed, not realizing how loud she had been.<br />"I see. All right. I agree to help you. the piksies' knowledge is at your hand."<br />"So do you have an idea of how to stop the Light Ones?" Nyma asked, full of excitement.<br />"Oh no, of course not. Not yet, anyways. Give us until noon and we may have some answers."<br />With that, every light in the hollow rushed into the hole in the tree and all was dark.<br /><br /><br /><div align="center">~</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="left">The sun rose higher into the sky, and Nyma woke to the songs of birds and the whistle of the wind. She waited for the sun to appear above her head. Time grew slower and slower, and the day grew hotter and hotter as the winds died down. </div><br /><div align="left">Finally, after what <em>seemed</em> like days of waiting, the piksies emerged from the knothole.</div><br /><div align="left">"We may have an answer, but it is very risky."</div><br /><div align="left">"Well, what is it?" Nyma eagerly awaited her solution.</div><br /><div align="left">"We will attempt to summon the many flying creatures of this land, so that they can hide the full moon from view on the night of the attack. It may weaken the Light Ones' powers."</div><br /><div align="left">"Of course!" Nyma exclaimed joyfully, "The full moon is their greatest source of power! If it is hidden, it will be as though it is the night of a new moon! Then, the Dark Ones will have the advantage over them, and Somaile will be peaceful once again!"</div><br /><div align="left">The other piksies chattered excitedly, but the Grand Piksy remained silent for a few moments. Then she spoke.</div><br /><div align="left">"Nyma, it is not as simple as it seems. The moon is much larger than even all of the fliers put together, and the creatures here cannot breathe in outer space."</div><br /><div align="left">"Oh. Right." Nyma was discouraged by this news.</div><br /><div align="left">"But," continued the queen, "There are enough to cover the island."</div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="center">~</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="left"><em>To be continued....</em></div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-34451151564381154992011-06-16T14:38:00.001-07:002011-06-16T15:25:18.534-07:00Keeper (continued)<u>Two</u><br /><br />Nyma felt knowledge and powerful energies swarm through her. She began sobbing, for she knew what that meant. Her mother burst into the room.<br />"Nyma, what's wrong?" she cried.<br />"He's dead." Nyma exclaimed, choked with tears, "I'm the Keeper."<br />Her mother stared at her, both in astonishment and in grief.<br />"You felt it?" she asked, worried as ever.<br />"Yes," Nyma replied. She gulped. "And I know what happened. I had a vision. The orks, they tore off his limbs."<br />She resumed crying. She had always known that her father would die one day. She had imagined it. Though the thought made her sad, she learned to accept it. But not like this. Never like this.<br />"Nala, what am I to do?" Nyma couldn't bear the thought of saving Somaile in only two days.<br />"I wouldn't know," her mother replied, hoping that her daughter would understand. "But <em>you </em>will, when the time comes to act. Your heart will tell you."<br />"But what if I fail?" Nyma exclaimed.<br />"You won't. The universe would not let that happen," Nala told her.<br />"Well, will <em>you</em> help me then?" Nyma asked, hopeful.<br />"No, I am much too old. A woman of fifty-five cannot save the Dark Lands. But you , a strong, brave young woman, can."<br />They looked into each other's eyes for a moment before Nyma embraced her mother, breaking into tears once again. She knew that she would have to journey away from home, and that she may never see Nala again.<br />"Nyma," Nala began, sniffling, "At dawn, you must travel to Piksy's Knothole. The piksies may have the answers to your questions."<br />Nyma nodded, squeezing her mother tighter.<br />"I'll miss you, mum."<br />"I'll miss you, too."<br /><br /><br /><div align="center">~</div><br /><br /><div align="left">Nyma awoke from her nightmares and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was dawn, meaning she would have to leave now. She gathered her things in a large bag, all of the necessities: food, water, clothes, and a sleeping mat.</div><br /><br /><div align="left">She was about to walk out the door when she turned around and went to her mother's bedroom. Nyma bent over the bed and kissed Nala's forehead, then rushed out the front door before she could start crying.</div><br /><br /><div align="left">Nyma was attaching her bag to Capricorn's saddle when she saw some-thing move in the shadows. Deciding it was nothing, she hopped on the horse and began her journey, unaware of the eyes peering at her through the bushes.</div><br /><br /><div align="left">The stars continued to shine as the edges of the sun began to creep over the horizon, and Nyma rode on. She had never been out at this time of day, and her heart warmed at the sounds echoing all around. Crickets chirped, birds sang, and the leaves of the bushes and trees rustled in the gentle breeze.</div><br /><br /><div align="left">After some hours of moving due south and occasionally glancing east to look for any sign of the Hollow, Nyma saw lights in the distance. She began to move toward them, and as they drew nearer, she heard noises. They were almost like shrill laughter. The sounds rang in her ears, louder and louder, until Nyma came upon an immense tree with the lights buzzing all around.</div><br /><br /><div align="left">She didn't even have to wonder. She had arrived at Piksy's Knothole. At the sight of her, the piksies froze and their lights went out. All was pitch-dark until a greater light emerged form the hole in the tree.</div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-29004449063620077032011-06-04T13:59:00.000-07:002011-06-04T13:59:13.724-07:00Cycles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HqGcsfnO2L8/TeqclMWjMGI/AAAAAAAAAp8/DJ-2qQBaP3E/s1600/cycle+of+the+universe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HqGcsfnO2L8/TeqclMWjMGI/AAAAAAAAAp8/DJ-2qQBaP3E/s1600/cycle+of+the+universe.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">A cycle </div><div style="text-align: center;">Within a cycle</div><div style="text-align: center;">Happens</div><div style="text-align: center;">And happens again.</div><div style="text-align: center;">They and we change cycles</div><div style="text-align: center;">But they and we do not know</div><div style="text-align: center;">That everything is its own separate cycle</div><div style="text-align: center;">Which puzzles out one.</div><div style="text-align: center;">The cycle of the universe.</div><div style="text-align: center;">This cycle remains unchanged.</div><div style="text-align: center;">We may think we can change everything</div><div style="text-align: center;">But even we</div><div style="text-align: center;">Are part of the universe's cycle.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Unchanging,</div><div style="text-align: center;">Yet changing all the time.</div>Aber N.T.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07413761687920519700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3835661273204777638.post-58664451225092862322011-05-18T18:48:00.000-07:002011-05-18T19:37:25.587-07:00Keeper<u>One</u><div><u><br /></u></div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She walked, and the shadows strode alongside, murmuring their reassurance. She had her wits about her, but even she was unsure of how this came to be.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Your Highness, your worry shakes the mountains. We still have hope."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She began to cry.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"But with the Keeper imprisoned, the people of the Dark Lands will surely become slaves."</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>A silence followed, but suddenly a deafening screech erupted from the depths of Stohn Woods. Figures in bright white apparel leaped from the the darkness of the trees and tossed a tightly-woven net over the Dark Queen's head. She squirmed, and the worm-like bag uttered muffled screams. The shadows hissed at the men as the queen was dragged away.</div><div><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The now lonely shadows panicked. They zipped in and out of the thorny bushes and trees, and much of the land surrounding the forest trembled in sadness and anger.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">~</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He moved north, alert for any sign of the men in white. He could not let himself be discovered. Not again. He needed to be back at the border before the full moon, but being sixty-seven years old, his joints were weary. He lay in the bright, cold grass and watched the sky grow progressively darker. <i>The moon, it shall be full in only three days' time.</i> he thought to himself. He worried that his old, frail bones wouldn't get to the river before the Light Ones brought down the final blow on the Dark.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>His duty was to keep balance between the people of Somaile, to make sure neither side took the other. He had never anticipated the difficulty of being the Keeper; the Somaili people nearly never fought. But unfortunately for him, he happened to be the one hope for those of the Dark Lands. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It seemed only a moment later when the sun reflected off of the magenta sky. His legs trembled as he arose, not only because of the crisp dawn air, but also of the fear he now felt each waking moment.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He wondered how far he was from the Light Palace, and when he would turn east toward the Fort. Thoughts of his family clouded his head, but he kept moving north, farther and farther still, until he saw large mounds in the distance.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The Hills of the Orks. He knew instantly that he had gone too far. With only little more than two days before the full moon arrived, he would have to get going back south, and soon.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>But his ever thin stomach growled with urgency; first he needed to eat. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>His previous visits to these hills had been friendly and pleasant, but after a year of war, the orks might not be so hospitable. The Keeper cautiously edged through the hedges, leading to the valley where the orks would be eating at this time. He heard a loud crack, looking down on a broken twig. Multiple heads turned, and after a brief silence, a larger head emerged and spoke.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Ah, Fyran. The Keeper," a sly voice said, "What brings you to our hills?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Well, Vernar, I am traveling, you see, and I am in great need of something to eat." Fyran replied, unsure of the orks' reaction.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Fyran, being as we're old friends, usually, I would give you more than you need." Vernar chuckled, "However, as you are the one hindrance to our increase in land, I'm afraid that I cannot help you."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>He yelled something in a strange dialect, and the throng of orks instantly ran toward the Keeper at their usually slow pace. Although their legs moved like snails, it seemed like Fyran had just begun running when he felt large hands close around each of his limbs, and with another command from Vernar, they were stretched to their maximum and beyond.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The Keeper's cries of pain echoed through hills and were heard throughout the island, and after hours of of various beatings and torturings, the trees grew deaf. The shrill sound reached the Light Palace, beckoning the guards toward the hills. The guards, darned in white, came crashing through the undergrowth with a large sack. Looking over his shoulder with strain, Fyran knew what was coming next.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>But the orks would not let the Keeper be captured again. He would only escape as he did last time. Vernar let out a roar, and the light slowly faded from Fyran's eyes as he felt a sudden yank and his limbs became numb.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The evil in the air rang with excitement, and, though some were surprised, so did the people standing in the valley as they watched the grass turn crimson.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>To be continued.....</i></div>Jeskehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07834925736710663862noreply@blogger.com4