Monday, December 5, 2011


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."

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.

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.

"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.

"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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

"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.

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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 bonk, they feel to the ground.

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.

"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.

"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?"

"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!"

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

To be continued..


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. :)

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Your Typical Suspenseful High School Romance Story

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.
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.

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 Twilight, Wings, and that kind of thing, were another issue. She didn't know who to believe, so she would have to find out for herself.
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. 103A. That's where I go, right? She looked at her schedule. At least she got that much right.
"Looking for 103A, are you?" Leta turned to see someone leaning over her shoulder.
"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."
"Um, okay." Leta was overwhelmed. How could he be so sure of himself?
"Oh, sorry. I'm Reask, by the way. I'm a sophomore."
Oh, that's why he's not nervous.
"I-I'm Leta."
"Cool name."
"Y-you too."
They walked in silence. He seemed okay with that.
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.
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.
"Hey there."
"Um, hi."
"Hey, you wanna come have lunch with me and my friends today?"
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.
"Sure." She didn't stammer, and she smiled. That was her one big mistake.

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.
"Hey, Leta."
She turned and smiled. "Hey, Reask."
"So, I was wondering, would you wanna go somewhere with me Friday?"
"Um, sure. Where to?" Just like the movies. She should run. But she didn't.
"My favorite place in the city."
"Oh. Okay." This wasn't a good sign. But Leta was too excited to be cautious.
"Great. I'll pick you up at eight?"
"Okay, great."
"'Kay. See you then," he said in his low, beautiful voice.

Leta zipped down the stairs to the front door.
"Where you going?" her mom called.
"Reask is taking me somewhere."
"Ooh. Well, okay but don't do anything stupid.'
"I won't. Bye, mom."
"Bye. Have fun."
Leta opened the door to see Reask standing in his usual jeans and T-shirt.
"Hey. Aren't you cold?"
"Nah. This is nothing."
"Uh, okay. Let's go."
They waited at the bus stop (neither of them could drive), and it was a while before Reask finally spoke.
"Leta. Have you ever wondered why you're so beautiful?"
Leta was flattered, but confused. "What do you mean? I'm not that pretty."
"Yes. You are. Like an angel."
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.
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.
"We're here."
They both got up and walked out.
"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.
"It's nicer inside. Come on."
They strode to the door and Reask pulled out a key. The tumbles clicked as he unlocked the door.
Reask turned to face her. "It'll be fine. Trust me."
She did. She trusted him. Maybe too much.
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.
"Reask, what's going on?" Leta squealed, the fear overwhelming her.
"Remember when I told you that you were like an angel?" Reask replied slyly from the shadows, "That's because you are an angel."
Leta gasped in shock. No way this was true.
"Why do you think you were adopted? Demons killed your angel parents. Demons like us.
"But why do you want me?"
"You, my dear," Reask continued as he moved closer and held her cheek again, "Are the last of your kind."
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.
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.
She watched as the demons moved in closer, closer, the perfection fading from their ravenous faces. She braced herself for what was to come.
Good bye, mom. Good bye, world. Good bye... Reask.
"No! I won't let you eat her!"
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.
"Brother, I told you not to interfere! I told you that if you're gonna be a vegetarian, you need to stop saving our food!"
"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 you anymore!"
"Hm. I see. Would you kill me, then?"
"You may be my brother," Lysagh continued, "But if you still plan to eat Leta, I will kill you, brother. I love her. I don't love you anymore!"
Leta stood in shock. She hadn't spoken, and she didn't plan to.
"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."
"All right, then. If that's what you think. Come at me. I dare you."
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.
"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.
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.
Lysagh turned to his sisters. "Sisters, please."
"Say no more, Lysagh," said Jalia, "We didn't like this much, either."
"Yeah, I like deer better anyway," said Gifra. Leta cringed at the thought of eating a deer.
"Thank you."
"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, you are the heir to the throne.
This was getting even more surprising by the minute.
"Congratulations, Lord Lysagh," came another voice.
"Thank you, too. All of you." He turned to Leta. "I'm so sorry about all of this. My brother, he-"
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.
"I love you, too."

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. :)



Thank you, Google Translate.
FOOL! <3 Excalibur

Monday, August 1, 2011

Muahahaha! 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!

Let's see what else... like... nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan.

Or let's see... like... YOUR FACE!

Ok I can't think of anymore.  Byebye =)

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Keeper (continued)


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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
"Silence!" erupted Rylma, and that's what came.


to be continued...

Read the rest once I finish it on Blurb (unless I DO decide to post more parts here)


Thursday, June 23, 2011

Keeper (continued)

Three (cont.)

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.
"Today," Rylma began in a great, booming voice, "We summon the flying creatures of this land. Birds, insects, the like... Even woscs and shadows."
The crowd gasped at the realization that there would be those dark shadows in their midst.
"Today," she began again, "We save Somaile!"
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.
"Hmmm.. nome veeehh. Hmmm.. no se me veeehh.." everyone cried, over and over again, louder and louder.
Rylma chanted a different grouping of words, at different tones, "Mo seee sheh mano fa rell... Mo seee sheh mano fa rell o..."
As the Grand Piksy continued to sing these prayers, a loud, thundering sound, something of a stampede, but more... flappy, 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.

Monday, June 20, 2011


This is music.
Your words are music.
Every breath you take
Every move you make
Is music.
Your heart is music.
The sounds
The sights
The smells
Of everything
Is music because
Everything has a beat.

Keeper (continued)


"Hush, my children," came the voice of the great light, "We have a visitor."
Nyma sat, breathless, upon the saddle as thousands of tiny lights circled around her. Their leader, as Nyma assumed, spoke again.
"So, what brings you here, daughter of Fyran?"
"Um.. I-I-I'm Nyma, and I came because my father is dead."
A ripple of high-pitched gasps of horror swept throughout the hollow. Nyma began again.
"And, um, as he is dead, um, I-I-I am now the Keeper of Somaile."
Another round of shocked responses erupted from the cloud of piksies.
"And what have you come to us for, Keeper?" replied the Grand Piksy.
"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.
"I see. All right. I agree to help you. the piksies' knowledge is at your hand."
"So do you have an idea of how to stop the Light Ones?" Nyma asked, full of excitement.
"Oh no, of course not. Not yet, anyways. Give us until noon and we may have some answers."
With that, every light in the hollow rushed into the hole in the tree and all was dark.


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.

Finally, after what seemed like days of waiting, the piksies emerged from the knothole.

"We may have an answer, but it is very risky."

"Well, what is it?" Nyma eagerly awaited her solution.

"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."

"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!"

The other piksies chattered excitedly, but the Grand Piksy remained silent for a few moments. Then she spoke.

"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."

"Oh. Right." Nyma was discouraged by this news.

"But," continued the queen, "There are enough to cover the island."


To be continued....

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Keeper (continued)


Nyma felt knowledge and powerful energies swarm through her. She began sobbing, for she knew what that meant. Her mother burst into the room.
"Nyma, what's wrong?" she cried.
"He's dead." Nyma exclaimed, choked with tears, "I'm the Keeper."
Her mother stared at her, both in astonishment and in grief.
"You felt it?" she asked, worried as ever.
"Yes," Nyma replied. She gulped. "And I know what happened. I had a vision. The orks, they tore off his limbs."
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.
"Nala, what am I to do?" Nyma couldn't bear the thought of saving Somaile in only two days.
"I wouldn't know," her mother replied, hoping that her daughter would understand. "But you will, when the time comes to act. Your heart will tell you."
"But what if I fail?" Nyma exclaimed.
"You won't. The universe would not let that happen," Nala told her.
"Well, will you help me then?" Nyma asked, hopeful.
"No, I am much too old. A woman of fifty-five cannot save the Dark Lands. But you , a strong, brave young woman, can."
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.
"Nyma," Nala began, sniffling, "At dawn, you must travel to Piksy's Knothole. The piksies may have the answers to your questions."
Nyma nodded, squeezing her mother tighter.
"I'll miss you, mum."
"I'll miss you, too."


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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Saturday, June 4, 2011


A cycle 
Within a cycle
And happens again.
They and we change cycles
But they and we do not know
That everything is its own separate cycle
Which puzzles out one.
The cycle of the universe.
This cycle remains unchanged.
We may think we can change everything
But even we
Are part of the universe's cycle.
Yet changing all the time.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011



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.
"Your Highness, your worry shakes the mountains. We still have hope."
She began to cry.
"But with the Keeper imprisoned, the people of the Dark Lands will surely become slaves."
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.
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.


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. The moon, it shall be full in only three days' time. 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
But his ever thin stomach growled with urgency; first he needed to eat.
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.
"Ah, Fyran. The Keeper," a sly voice said, "What brings you to our hills?"
"Well, Vernar, I am traveling, you see, and I am in great need of something to eat." Fyran replied, unsure of the orks' reaction.
"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."
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.
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.
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.
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.

To be continued.....

Da Life You're Livin

Lovin life never cry
Watchin time fly
Lookin at myself sayin new day new play
Lookin at life a whole new way and now i say
Good day to you good friend and
Never be forgettin
That no matter what ya do
This be the life youre livin.

Saturday, May 7, 2011


Why can't it all
Fly away
So everyone else
Can see the light
In the deepest cavern
Of the deepest sea
With the deepest understanding
Of how it came to be.

what to say

dont know
what to say
how to say it
or why
all i know
is i cant go
without saying

Hall of Mosses

Wishing something
Could remain forever
Just a way
To pass the time
All the while
Eyes burn
With the realization
That you can't stay.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

O, How the Wind Gossips

Oh, the laughter 
From the sea 
Brings joy to
You and me.

And the winds fly
From the east.
And it walks down
'Long the stream

Oh how the birds call!

Aha the clouds brawl!

Alas ye free.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

The Power of Inner Magic

I know inside myself,
I have imagination,
And it sometimes come out,
Either in a good way,
Or it effects me deeply like wounds.

This is my power.
My inner power.
My power to be youthful,
Even though I'm getting older,
And my mind is starting to get narrow.
The poems always remind me to be good,
And heart-full,
And to have fun.
I still have to be cautious,
For it could hurt me in the end.

My friends also help with my power,
They give me ideas,
Or fuel is what I say.

They are not fuel,
They are more then that.
Special jewels,
Like diamonds and sapphires.
They are precious and need to be looked after,
For their shine can fade from within,
And die in my hands with sadness.

My inner power can't save them.
So I have to be careful with them,
And protect them with a gentle hand,
For they can fall and crush under my feet,
In-front of my eyes,
Between my fingers,
No longer in my life,
Or existing.
Gone forever.

So to all my friends,
You give me youth,
And I have pleasure for you to be near me,
And I take it with happiness,
And gentleness.
I'm always afraid of losing you all,
So please never forget me,
And may you live on and prosper.

The Universal Eye of Doom

Oh, traveling through the deep depths of space

A universal eye.

It watches down on everything

And spies.

There are many of these eyes

Like a whole society

And they don't really see

For they are blind.

Though they are blind

They see everything

For they are everything.

You just have to see it

In your universal mind.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

The Cold Hard Shell of Pearls

The trees sing to me in whispers

Of the children waiting to be born

And the cold hard shell

Of pearls

Of the softly breathing

Flowers who just wish

To be spared the shivering

Sensation of crushed stems

And of the anchors thrown

Across the sea of peace

To stop it from moving

The trees tell me things they see

And stories that they hear

But the one I remember most

Was the tale of a girl

Who could speak to the trees.

What We Have Become

Take a bite
Let the energy
Of the sweet
Yet bitter
Flow through
And it will sing you
Songs of courage
And immerse you
In bewilderment
At the people we
Have become
Over time.

Take the time
Drink the water
Yet quickly
And know what
It tastes like
And it will tell you
Tales of equality
And immerse you
In bewilderment
At the people we
Have become
Over time.

The World at a Glance

Why we all wonder
How to explain
The world at a glance
But every time I see the clouds,
Picturesque, whether they be white or grey,
And I smile, thinking, wondering
Why they aren't treated equally
And why we aren't either.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Staring at the World

Out in space
Is where I am,
I'm there,
Yet not.
I'm everything,
Yet nothing.
I forgot what I am,
Or what I should be.

I see the stars twinkling in my eyes,
And the planets in the universe passing by me.
I also see the moon round in my face,
And I realize that there is no air for me to breath.

I feel a magic power making me fly in the empty world,
I try to touch the empty world,
But there is nothing to touch.
I want to breath air,
But there is non out here.

I want to talk to a being,
But no ones here where I am.
So I look inside myself and try to find,
The world where I am supposed to be.
I look left and right,
Up and down,
But I know that it's useless,
But it somehow feels right at the moment.

I search for some time later for a planet,
As I look in different places,
But I didn't find it so far.

As I look in despair for the world to live,
I realize that I know it will be harder to adapt,
So I just shrug and stare at the empty place,
My empty place.


Thank goodness for the forests that are left in the world.  If only we all planted some sort of forest, we wouldn't be worrying about the whole "loading" situation with computers. =P  Ha!  Well, I have a garden to tend to.  Good bye humans who have to wait for their computers to load!  And hail to the beguiling bunnies!
--Your former friend,
The Foliage Spirit

Friday, January 21, 2011

Your Song

La la
La la la
La la la la la la
La la
La la la
La la la la
La la
La la
La la la la la

What this really is
Is different for everyone.
This is your song.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

The Night Time

In the night,
Where the moon is full and round,
I feel my senses become lose.
Feeling sensations being released,
My head spinning,
Yet I still laugh uncontrollably.

Don't worry about it,
Because its in my head you see,
A dream,
A vision,
Or a premamisson?

Sometimes I don't know which is which,
That I have in the night.
I know one thing for certain,
It comes from the Dream Spirit.

It comes into my dreams,
And the Dream Spirit takes them however she pleases.
It makes them good,
It makes them bad.
They always have a meaning to your life.

It's okay to stirr in its grasp sometimes.
It knows that some of the dreams or visions she gives,
Can even be painful ones that you have to wake-up.

So don't fear the Dream Spirit,
Or even be too fond of the Dream Spirit,
Because it can just change that in a instant.

Friday, January 14, 2011

A Faery

A faery is a curious thing
It likes to joke, dance and sing.
It tickles your nose,
But never shows
A face let alone a wing.

Wishing they could come along,
We walk, laugh and sing a song.
We don't see them there,
But they hide in our hair
The faeries know they belong.

A faery is a curious one
It likes to play and have great fun.
It tickles your nose,
But never shows
Even in light of the sun.

A Special Place

The mountainous valley
Sees the sun
A few times a season
And realize that they
Are unique.
Surrounded by sea
But still connected to land,
They bundle up
In the depths of summer.
So I wonder
What makes our home
So special.

I'm Finally Back

When I can't think,
I feel as though I have lost myself
My ideas power me
The absence of creativity
Hurts, and I wish I could always
Know exactly what to write about.

When I forget I have somewhere
To let out my random jumbles of words
That you all call art,
I feel as though
I've lost my touch.

But when you tell me that my words
Sound beautiful,
I feel like everyone can put a bunch of words
Together, in a poem or story,
As I do, but sometimes I
Take for granted.