Her life began to rhyme

Now she finds she had been wrong
To look that way and sing her song
For once she turned the other way
There emerged a new, better day
And then her life began to rhyme
As her joy grew over time
And though she knows not how long it will last
She can only hope that it won't end so fast
It all began all at once
And has only been about a month
But the time has felt like forever
And each memory remains her treasure.

~love stwyth

Look at this old sad blog.
Sitting in the corner of the internet
Like the poor dust sits when
The vacuum forgets about it.

~stwyth

Just Imagine For A Moment..

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.

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.

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.

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?

Still, you don't know how this happened. How could they- Who would think to- Why aren't 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.

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.

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.

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.

"Hello, my precious darling," it utters, stroking your chin with its huge, slimy finger.

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.

The Elephant Stone

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.

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.

Lilia circled the stone, meticulously searching for the place on which she needed to stand. A faint sound. Anything. 

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

flowers and showers

follow the flowers
for hours and hours,
and never look back
on the things you may lack.
watching and waiting,
your thoughts are debating
whether you continue,
or if you will stop.

never worry,
never hurry,
just find your rhyme.
always going,
always flowing,
works every time.

smile at the glade,
before you must bade
adieu to flowers,
and flee the sky showers.
but never forget,
for it has been set:
this time with the trees,
in your mind it buzzes like swarms of bees.

how are you feeling?

how were you feeling yesterday?
I didn't have the chance to ask before.
I hope you were well and bright as May,
and that your day was not a bore.

so, how are you feeling today?
I'm glad I get to talk to you now.
hope you feel even better than yesterday,
and that your sky has no clouds.

but how will you feel when it is tomorrow?
will I be able to ask you then?
hopefully you will feel no sorrow,
and that I will see you soon again.

kokoro kara

oh my kokoro

full of such sorrow

how will I know when

it shall be tomorrow?

can I still love you

when you don't love me, too?

with all my kokoro,

yes I still do.

your smile, it blossoms like a hana

every time I see it I wanna

smile with you,

as flora and fauna.

but can I still love you

when you don't love me, too?

like butterflies to hana, 

yes I still do.

when I'm with you I'm full of hikari,

but if I'm embarrassing then I'm sorry.

I just want you 

to hear my story.

but can I still love you

when you don't love me, too?

like the sun's hikari,

yes I still do.

why would you be surprised

that I love you?

you can see in my eyes

that I still do.

I wrote this on Figment before, but I really enjoyed it, so I am putting it here as well. Hope you enjoyed it, too. :)

Smile Like the Wind..

Do you see the way the wind blows?
How it moves with the world,
And tickles your nose?
Where does it go once it has passed?
Everywhere and nowhere.
Forever it lasts.
But what of the smile it leaves on your face?
Does it shine for a moment,
Then leave without a trace?
No, a smile can last forever,
And like the everlasting wind,
Continues its endeavor.
So though life may sometimes seem cruel,
Remember to smile,
And like the wind, stay cool.

QR code!!

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 :)

Flower Beds or Orange Groves?

Where should I leave to today,

The flower beds or the orange groves?

Or perhaps to the lone tree of the concrete garden,

Where I may sit on the concrete bench

And watch the birds flutter in the concrete birdbath?

I may go there, for in the flower beds I still see birds flutter,

And in the orange groves I still see trees.

So perhaps I shall stroll out the door,

And sit across the way on my concrete bench.

O Fallen Child

Weep, o fallen smile,

Fill yourself with the sweet salt

Of your self-pity and regret.

But do not weep so much that perhaps

You drown in your sorrows, for

All will be well, little fallen child,

Pick yourself back up

And try not to fall so much anymore.

Greet Us, Dear Spring

Upon the dusty curve of spring

My fellow begonia likes to swing.

The beaten sculpture likes to dance

While little milk boy swings his lance.

Oho the spring has come for us!

Form a ring and sing 'til dusk!

Sing 'til the day has gone away!

Dance 'til the moon casts its glow on the bay!

Riddles and stories and birds and rats

All are rising, even the cats.

The lanterns fall

The trees stand tall!

Come spring, to greet us all!

the music of emotion

Listen, the world speaks,
 But when do we really hear it?
 I listen to music in a reality
 That lives in my emotion,
 But what about the place
 Where I must continue?
 My heart drops
 Like the dew after sunrise
 When I wake up from what is untrue
 To most,
 And I always live my days
 With one foot in my head.

Belinadae

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..

LIKE A BOSS.

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. :)

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.

"Y-yes."

"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.

"Coming!"

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."

"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.

"Wait."

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. :)

FOOL.

FOOL.

だます。

Дурак.

मूर्ख.

바보.

خداع.

Tonto.

Thank you, Google Translate.

FOOL! <3 Excalibur

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 =)

Keeper (continued)

Four

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)

:)

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.