Poetry & blankets make for lazy afternoons EDIT
What is there
but a bleeding heart
that tears
so easily in your hands
thou art—
a lover
a dreamer
a friend
a schemer
The hand I held out
you didn't take
your eyes unnervingly cold with hate
at the weakness I displayed
how long must thou make—
me wait
for thy hand
a smile
a reassuring glance
Before I tumble to the depths below
deeper and deeper, per chance
into what my sorrows created—
a place with no sweet hello—
"my dear
what keeps you here?
your tears are spent
your heart taken...
what is left but a hollow maiden?"
Woe is me
glass eyes replacing
the once bright sheen; she—
through the mirror—her beating heart racing—
under the familiar gaze
of a master, a maker
of broken hearts
of legends and legacies
the maiden lost in a spell
that ordinary men cannot quell
Woe!
All is lost!
Drop the red tresses of the end curtain
to silence the hungry crowd below
For there can never be an encore, herein
the dwelling of the one in the guise of a crow.
What can I say that today was a lethargic day but the weather was very nice.but a bleeding heart
that tears
so easily in your hands
thou art—
a lover
a dreamer
a friend
a schemer
The hand I held out
you didn't take
your eyes unnervingly cold with hate
at the weakness I displayed
how long must thou make—
me wait
for thy hand
a smile
a reassuring glance
Before I tumble to the depths below
deeper and deeper, per chance
into what my sorrows created—
a place with no sweet hello—
"my dear
what keeps you here?
your tears are spent
your heart taken...
what is left but a hollow maiden?"
Woe is me
glass eyes replacing
the once bright sheen; she—
through the mirror—her beating heart racing—
under the familiar gaze
of a master, a maker
of broken hearts
of legends and legacies
the maiden lost in a spell
that ordinary men cannot quell
Woe!
All is lost!
Drop the red tresses of the end curtain
to silence the hungry crowd below
For there can never be an encore, herein
the dwelling of the one in the guise of a crow.
The news of swine flu is all over the place here but no one has the illness as of yet (well, not that I know of). I'm going to keep this a short post since I decided to get something to eat right after posting something here (I don't know why I chose to post something in the first place).
Hmm...I have no rants or complaints, nor do I have any major problem on my mind right now. The only issue is my own laziness (I blame the warm blanket around my shoulders, it's making me sleepy) and the state testing shizz next week (SAT/CSAT's). I think I can muster up something about it... *gets thinking cap on, you know, the one with the lightbulb*
School test scores determine whether the government intervenes in the matters of education...not something other districts tend to be worried about since their students are a bit more competent when it comes to learning...but not for the school I go to. Ah, the woe that are tiny districts and tight compact housing with low wages. Now, it sounds a bit bad...it isn't but at least the mayor's doing something about it (putting new buildings, parks, schools, etc. etc.) hopefully the test scores will improve as well. :|
So state school or not? An interesting thing to keep in mind...
Oh. In second period today, tons of people were reaching for the hand sanitizer...and, why do I mention this? Because I sit next to the teacher's desk and the sanitzer is practically a hairsbreadth away. :| It's nice that it's getting the limelight and all but using antibacterial items too much may cause new bacteria to pop up who are immune to anti-anything. :|
Three cheers for evolution!
(Nah, I'm not angry.)
4/29/09 EDIT: Hmm, it appears that the flu did spread here. The elementary school got closed but the high school is still open (as you can tell I'm typing this in class, otherwise I would be sound asleep). Here's me wishing everyone well and to wash your hands kiddies.
Raison d'être
+ + + Raison d'être—reason for being
Just a little "dabble." I've had angel stories since I started writing so I thought it'd be a nice change of pace from what I've been writing about so far.
Monochrome images told him the past. It was peaceful, always, when he looked back. The peal of childlike laughter, the gentle warmth of sunshine and two hands clasped together in friendship. All had once played a part in his, if not everyone else's life.
They were...insufficient, the quality in which he saw those images. Faces, voices, were distorted beyond recognition. What once was warm and friendly—what once was happy—brought sadness and confusion.
A blurry smile. A flower tucked in the crook of their ear...
Fading away and away and away...like a trick of the light, till she was gone.
+ + +
"He's run away!"
Crash! Will's hand slipped, the delicate porcelain that harbored the morning's fresh tea dropped to the floor. Her left eyebrow twitched in rage as she met the frightened maid's eyes. It was then that the news had been confirmed. Esra escaped.
And through the window no less, she thought as she investigated the scene. Her hand drifted over the wooden countertop where Esra's belongings laid just last night... She opened one of the drawers underneath. Gone. She cursed under her breath, crossing her arms as she leaned onto the counter.
Will had kept that blasted gun under lock and key. Esra, with his strength, broke it without a sweat. It was stupid to think that a measly lock can stop a being of his caliber but she thought... Will ran her hand through her hair. She thought he'd listen to reason, and the gun, being stowed away at arms length from where he slept...it was a case of trust. Will thought for sure he wouldn't pursue her—the ghost, no, the other half of Katarin—but he went and did it anyway. What? Was he suicidal? He had been injured in previous struggles, was hurt in ways Will couldn't imagine, not to mention his ordeal the previous day—where he fell unconscious in the street right after a bout with a high level demon...
A chill traveled down her spine.
Will dashed to the window, felt the spring air brush her auburn waist length hair over her shoulders. Tears were forming at her eyes, at the realization of this, she used the back of her hand to brush them away. This was bad. She stepped onto the ledge of the window, her hands steadying her bent frame. Really, really bad. Will closed her eyes briefly, in order to mute the sounds of the spectators below. Soon she felt a warmth in the center of her forehead, the place where the angels had blessed her, where Esra blessed her mere moments before death... She leapt forward. Gasps ran around, screams and shouts...then, voices of awe and shock. Some kept quiet, crossing themselves instead.
White feathers danced overhead, the wind carrying them further west. Will, used to summoning her wings now (for she'd been practicing like hell to control her powers) followed the wind. It could have been a hunch, her going this way, but as she neared her destination, her heart seemed to sink into desperation more and more...
Crash! Will's hand slipped, the delicate porcelain that harbored the morning's fresh tea dropped to the floor. Her left eyebrow twitched in rage as she met the frightened maid's eyes. It was then that the news had been confirmed. Esra escaped.
And through the window no less, she thought as she investigated the scene. Her hand drifted over the wooden countertop where Esra's belongings laid just last night... She opened one of the drawers underneath. Gone. She cursed under her breath, crossing her arms as she leaned onto the counter.
Will had kept that blasted gun under lock and key. Esra, with his strength, broke it without a sweat. It was stupid to think that a measly lock can stop a being of his caliber but she thought... Will ran her hand through her hair. She thought he'd listen to reason, and the gun, being stowed away at arms length from where he slept...it was a case of trust. Will thought for sure he wouldn't pursue her—the ghost, no, the other half of Katarin—but he went and did it anyway. What? Was he suicidal? He had been injured in previous struggles, was hurt in ways Will couldn't imagine, not to mention his ordeal the previous day—where he fell unconscious in the street right after a bout with a high level demon...
A chill traveled down her spine.
Will dashed to the window, felt the spring air brush her auburn waist length hair over her shoulders. Tears were forming at her eyes, at the realization of this, she used the back of her hand to brush them away. This was bad. She stepped onto the ledge of the window, her hands steadying her bent frame. Really, really bad. Will closed her eyes briefly, in order to mute the sounds of the spectators below. Soon she felt a warmth in the center of her forehead, the place where the angels had blessed her, where Esra blessed her mere moments before death... She leapt forward. Gasps ran around, screams and shouts...then, voices of awe and shock. Some kept quiet, crossing themselves instead.
White feathers danced overhead, the wind carrying them further west. Will, used to summoning her wings now (for she'd been practicing like hell to control her powers) followed the wind. It could have been a hunch, her going this way, but as she neared her destination, her heart seemed to sink into desperation more and more...
+ + +
A temptress...that's what she'd been reduced to?
Nihil was aimed right at her face but he didn't pull the trigger. Only a few seconds... Only one pull of the trigger...and Katarin's soul would've been set free. But the reason the gun was assigned to him, the role he had been endowed, after this shot there would be another, and another, and another... Even though he would set her soul free, what about his? All these years...he'll keep fighting...but for what then?
"Why do you hesitate?" Her china doll face wore a smile of malice. This isn't her, he repeated continuously. This can never be her. The girl's face and body—though aged in the years since the soul was taken and remade—was similar. If Katarin hadn't died too early, this would be what she'd grow into and they could have lived together... If it was so, if fate was ever so kind, their paths would've been different. Instead, they had been separated by decades, centuries, forever in a chase to right the wrong that was stealing a human's soul. And it would all end, right here, right now, if only Esra could pull the damn trigger.
The woman, carefully watching the angel's movements, could sense his strife. She, aware of the soul that kept her artificial body together, thought of how powerful she'd become if this angel's soul was under her possession. Not to mention, the weapon aimed at her. Just the thought of being able to rise in rank... How others would tremble at her presence... She licked her cherry-red lips, one hand close to her side, a small blade held firm under her thumb.
"Stay back!" Esra shouted, finding that his voice began to falter. Both were a couple paces away. Her being so near him was enough to let the years of killing demons fade away to a buzz in the back of his conflicted mind.
"Shoot," she coaxed, "I dare you. Shoot already." She reached with her free hand to the hands holding the gun inches from her face. A spark ran through her fingers, being that the gun was forged for the use of angels only. Or those with access to an angel's soul. She relished at how close she was to having this weapon to herself... Her right hand closed in on the handle of the blade, ready to strike...
"Esra! Look out!"
Katarin snarled, lunging forward with the blade. Esra sidestepped, his wings rising to gain leverage over her swift consecutive slashes. He fired once. Katarin dodged, thin bat-like wings flapping at her sides, taking to the air. Her obsidian eyes glaring at Esra and Will, who had flocked to his side in a hurry. Two angels? How perfect.
"Esra! You're alright! I'm so—"
"You don't belong here. Go home," was his cold reply.
Will tugged on his sleeve, her emerald eyes pleading, "You could've died! Esra, what about your home? Think of what you have, think of... Remember, Esra, please, think of what you gave to me."
"Enough of this!" With her wings close to her body, Katarin rushed towards them, three blades in each of her gloved hands. She threw one. Esra pushed Will away from him in time, the blade caught deep into the ground. Another throw, using the two left in her right, directed it towards Will. Will, still recovering from the strength in Esra's pushing her away, attempted to call forth a shield. But there was no time. She fumbled with the words, closed her eyes, and held her arms over her face.
There was a sound of metal against metal, or something of equal hardness. She winced.
No pain... Will lowered her arms, finding herself in a protective sphere with a distinct shade of blue—the color of Esra's aura. At once, Will was relived, then enraged for not being able to protect herself but also at..."Damn! Esra! Let me out!" The shield was permanent! What the hell? Will pounded against the surface with her fists, her blows making no effect, save for the ripples that resonated throughout the sphere at each strike. At last, she gave up but her hands remained on the sphere's surface. It was warm.
This isn't fair... Will stood, tense, watching Esra defend against Katarin's attacks. She could feel his exhaustion. The sphere reflected his state of mind... The tiny webs that made up the sphere, the warmth that was disappearing under Will's fingers... What could she do?
It was difficult to breathe but as long as she was safe and alive... Bang! The knife was deflected. Bang! The other flew high into the sky. Esra kept his eyes on Katarin's hands, his finger ready on the trigger... She threw. And the last...
"ESRA!"
Bang!
Nihil was aimed right at her face but he didn't pull the trigger. Only a few seconds... Only one pull of the trigger...and Katarin's soul would've been set free. But the reason the gun was assigned to him, the role he had been endowed, after this shot there would be another, and another, and another... Even though he would set her soul free, what about his? All these years...he'll keep fighting...but for what then?
"Why do you hesitate?" Her china doll face wore a smile of malice. This isn't her, he repeated continuously. This can never be her. The girl's face and body—though aged in the years since the soul was taken and remade—was similar. If Katarin hadn't died too early, this would be what she'd grow into and they could have lived together... If it was so, if fate was ever so kind, their paths would've been different. Instead, they had been separated by decades, centuries, forever in a chase to right the wrong that was stealing a human's soul. And it would all end, right here, right now, if only Esra could pull the damn trigger.
The woman, carefully watching the angel's movements, could sense his strife. She, aware of the soul that kept her artificial body together, thought of how powerful she'd become if this angel's soul was under her possession. Not to mention, the weapon aimed at her. Just the thought of being able to rise in rank... How others would tremble at her presence... She licked her cherry-red lips, one hand close to her side, a small blade held firm under her thumb.
"Stay back!" Esra shouted, finding that his voice began to falter. Both were a couple paces away. Her being so near him was enough to let the years of killing demons fade away to a buzz in the back of his conflicted mind.
"Shoot," she coaxed, "I dare you. Shoot already." She reached with her free hand to the hands holding the gun inches from her face. A spark ran through her fingers, being that the gun was forged for the use of angels only. Or those with access to an angel's soul. She relished at how close she was to having this weapon to herself... Her right hand closed in on the handle of the blade, ready to strike...
"Esra! Look out!"
Katarin snarled, lunging forward with the blade. Esra sidestepped, his wings rising to gain leverage over her swift consecutive slashes. He fired once. Katarin dodged, thin bat-like wings flapping at her sides, taking to the air. Her obsidian eyes glaring at Esra and Will, who had flocked to his side in a hurry. Two angels? How perfect.
"Esra! You're alright! I'm so—"
"You don't belong here. Go home," was his cold reply.
Will tugged on his sleeve, her emerald eyes pleading, "You could've died! Esra, what about your home? Think of what you have, think of... Remember, Esra, please, think of what you gave to me."
"Enough of this!" With her wings close to her body, Katarin rushed towards them, three blades in each of her gloved hands. She threw one. Esra pushed Will away from him in time, the blade caught deep into the ground. Another throw, using the two left in her right, directed it towards Will. Will, still recovering from the strength in Esra's pushing her away, attempted to call forth a shield. But there was no time. She fumbled with the words, closed her eyes, and held her arms over her face.
There was a sound of metal against metal, or something of equal hardness. She winced.
No pain... Will lowered her arms, finding herself in a protective sphere with a distinct shade of blue—the color of Esra's aura. At once, Will was relived, then enraged for not being able to protect herself but also at..."Damn! Esra! Let me out!" The shield was permanent! What the hell? Will pounded against the surface with her fists, her blows making no effect, save for the ripples that resonated throughout the sphere at each strike. At last, she gave up but her hands remained on the sphere's surface. It was warm.
This isn't fair... Will stood, tense, watching Esra defend against Katarin's attacks. She could feel his exhaustion. The sphere reflected his state of mind... The tiny webs that made up the sphere, the warmth that was disappearing under Will's fingers... What could she do?
It was difficult to breathe but as long as she was safe and alive... Bang! The knife was deflected. Bang! The other flew high into the sky. Esra kept his eyes on Katarin's hands, his finger ready on the trigger... She threw. And the last...
"ESRA!"
Bang!
+ + +
"Do you think there really is a heaven? When I die, I want to go there."
"Then I want to go too!"
Smiling, she said, "Together. It would be nice to go together wouldn't it? But..."—her head lowered, eyes downcast—"what if one of us dies first? Like if I were..."
It took a while to answer. He wasn't sure on what to say....but as long as they were in the same place, the time didn't have to matter. "Then I'll personally take you there. I'll ask God and his angels to escort you too and then I'll pray every night to make sure you're taken care of. It's easy. And, if I go first, you have to do what I would do."
"Sounds too good to be true... You promise?" Her eyes brightened, if not a little bit. Lately it looked as if she was going to cry any second and the color of her face...
"I swear."
She shook her head. "Don't swear. I wouldn't want to be...a burden...so"—she held up her pinky—"pinky promise me instead Esra. That way, you can move on if you desire to forget me."
The boy pinky swore. "I doubt it."
"No worries," she said, her voice as low as a whisper, "I'm a very easy person to forget."
"Then I want to go too!"
Smiling, she said, "Together. It would be nice to go together wouldn't it? But..."—her head lowered, eyes downcast—"what if one of us dies first? Like if I were..."
It took a while to answer. He wasn't sure on what to say....but as long as they were in the same place, the time didn't have to matter. "Then I'll personally take you there. I'll ask God and his angels to escort you too and then I'll pray every night to make sure you're taken care of. It's easy. And, if I go first, you have to do what I would do."
"Sounds too good to be true... You promise?" Her eyes brightened, if not a little bit. Lately it looked as if she was going to cry any second and the color of her face...
"I swear."
She shook her head. "Don't swear. I wouldn't want to be...a burden...so"—she held up her pinky—"pinky promise me instead Esra. That way, you can move on if you desire to forget me."
The boy pinky swore. "I doubt it."
"No worries," she said, her voice as low as a whisper, "I'm a very easy person to forget."
+ + +
Both combatants fell to the ground.
The sphere holding Will disintegrated.
No, no, no...please, God, no... Esra, please... Will sprinted to his side, kneeling, a hand over her mouth. The dagger was halfway deep into his right shoulder. He was stirring, his eyes blinking rapidly. Will exhaled in relief. Hurt, but not dead...
"Will..." Esra murmured, attempting to sit up straight with his left arm. "Nihil, please." His hand was held out to her. Will, unsure, rose and picked up Nihil that was a meter or so away where Esra lay. The weapon looked light in Esra's hands, but when she had it in her possession, it was heavy as hell. In a second or two, Esra had the gun in his left hand. After, he prompted Will to help get him to his feet.
Together they walked to Katarin, who lay on her side. She held her stomach, ivory skin tinted crimson. Katarin looked at Esra, flashing a bloody smile. Her body was convulsing, foam dripping from the corners of her mouth. She attempted to talk: "Do...you really think...you'll be able to pull the trigger this time?" Her voice was broken, low in tone and pleading. "Is it so wrong"—she gestured with one hand to her heart—"to give life to a lost human soul? Is it?"
"You deny their passage to rest eternally and you've done nothing but cause trouble during your stay, all of you," he said without remorse, "And it's wrong to go against a promise."
She laughed, a dry short laugh that ended in a coughing fit. "You angels...and your morals. If you still want to kill me, go ahead, I can care less. I'm not worried... Do you know why?"—her crazed obsidian eyes looked towards the two, a maniacal smile twisting her blood-drenched lips—"Because I'm an easy person to forget! And, with a pull of the trigger"—she gestured a gun shooting the side of her face—"Bang! Poof! I'm gone."
"What are you getting at?" Will remarked, seeing that Esra was too preoccupied in his thoughts to reply.
"Well? aren't you going to fulfill your promise?" Katarin replied, ignoring Will.
And with that, Esra aimed straight at Katarin's forehead. His whole arm shook however; but, with Will there to assist...
Bang!
Katarin was free. With the seal broken, a sliver of white light appeared as the body disintegrated, it's dust carried away in the wind. The light remained there for a moment, a warmth radiating from it. Will, entranced by it, could hear a faint voice—gathering that she could hear correctly, a girl said 'thank you.' She glanced at Esra, tears overflowing as the soul faded from view. "Finally..." he seemed to say. Their eyes suddenly met.
"What is it?" Will said, surprised. Esra winced as he used his right hand to secure the gun in Will's hand. "Esra...it's over, we can go home now... But why do I get a feeling that there's still more to do?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand over Nihil. The seals on their foreheads illuminated for a brief amount of time. Nihil, in Will's hands, lightened and in that same moment, her mind opened, letting in a century old presence—the spirit of the gun whose name meant 'nothing', the banisher of homunculi like Katarin. Why, this could only mean one thing and Will's eyes widened in realization. Her earlier feeling was right. Esra was going to die. In the midst of Esra's bout with Katarin, she could feel his will weakening...now, with the relinquishing of his weapon, Esra felt farther, drifting... His light was fading.
"My time is over," Esra said, his palms toward the sky.
Will shook her head, hot tears falling fast. Dropping Nihil to the ground, she beat against Esra's chest with her fists, clutching the fabric of his jacket."You can't leave! Stay, stay, please stay... I-I—"
Silence. "Will...I'm...tired...of living like this. All I've known is sorrow and vengeance, pity, grief and shame. All I wish now is rest because what I've done is give false hope and run over people in my conquest for Katarin. Now, that I've realized my purpose, there is none left for me to do but sleep."
She stepped away, trying her best to hide her eyes from him. All along, she'd known, he'd still choose Katarin over her. What she didn't know was that she had to kill him—that was the price so given by Esra himself. She picked up the gun and, without turning to look at him she asked, "What am I to you?"
He was speechless. "Will..."
"Nevermind. That was a stupid question. So this...is goodbye?" Will wiped at her eyes...she couldn't face him like this. "Say something already!"
But he couldn't. He had handed over ownership of Nihil but, though it was small, he was still connected to that grand power. Now that it was in Will's hands, he could feel her sadness, her feelings... But his heart didn't desire to move forward... It was tired. That's all. To spare the girl, he embraced her, his wings creating a warm barrier around them... There he stayed for awhile. She was a frail creature despite her demeanor and it had been awhile since he had last been near a girl who held such feelings for him.
Will clawed at his arms, fighting through the tears. With the best voice she could muster, she said, "She's going to be mad. You unfaithful jerk... Now, let me go, I can't get a good shot of you unless I shoot myself but Nihil tells me I can't do that. It's against the rules—but you already know that."
He did so, reluctantly, and watched the girl stand a step or three away with the gun aimed at his seal.
"So it's goodbye?" she said with a half-hearted smile.
Esra, disposed of the knife embedded in his shoulder, not bothering to show how it hurt so bad... "Goodbye...Willow."
His tone of voice, his face, his eyes...she'll end up remembering him for as long as she held this gun. It...was a cruel punishment and shall remain as so but she had the following centuries to work it out.
Bang!
The sphere holding Will disintegrated.
No, no, no...please, God, no... Esra, please... Will sprinted to his side, kneeling, a hand over her mouth. The dagger was halfway deep into his right shoulder. He was stirring, his eyes blinking rapidly. Will exhaled in relief. Hurt, but not dead...
"Will..." Esra murmured, attempting to sit up straight with his left arm. "Nihil, please." His hand was held out to her. Will, unsure, rose and picked up Nihil that was a meter or so away where Esra lay. The weapon looked light in Esra's hands, but when she had it in her possession, it was heavy as hell. In a second or two, Esra had the gun in his left hand. After, he prompted Will to help get him to his feet.
Together they walked to Katarin, who lay on her side. She held her stomach, ivory skin tinted crimson. Katarin looked at Esra, flashing a bloody smile. Her body was convulsing, foam dripping from the corners of her mouth. She attempted to talk: "Do...you really think...you'll be able to pull the trigger this time?" Her voice was broken, low in tone and pleading. "Is it so wrong"—she gestured with one hand to her heart—"to give life to a lost human soul? Is it?"
"You deny their passage to rest eternally and you've done nothing but cause trouble during your stay, all of you," he said without remorse, "And it's wrong to go against a promise."
She laughed, a dry short laugh that ended in a coughing fit. "You angels...and your morals. If you still want to kill me, go ahead, I can care less. I'm not worried... Do you know why?"—her crazed obsidian eyes looked towards the two, a maniacal smile twisting her blood-drenched lips—"Because I'm an easy person to forget! And, with a pull of the trigger"—she gestured a gun shooting the side of her face—"Bang! Poof! I'm gone."
"What are you getting at?" Will remarked, seeing that Esra was too preoccupied in his thoughts to reply.
"Well? aren't you going to fulfill your promise?" Katarin replied, ignoring Will.
And with that, Esra aimed straight at Katarin's forehead. His whole arm shook however; but, with Will there to assist...
Bang!
Katarin was free. With the seal broken, a sliver of white light appeared as the body disintegrated, it's dust carried away in the wind. The light remained there for a moment, a warmth radiating from it. Will, entranced by it, could hear a faint voice—gathering that she could hear correctly, a girl said 'thank you.' She glanced at Esra, tears overflowing as the soul faded from view. "Finally..." he seemed to say. Their eyes suddenly met.
"What is it?" Will said, surprised. Esra winced as he used his right hand to secure the gun in Will's hand. "Esra...it's over, we can go home now... But why do I get a feeling that there's still more to do?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand over Nihil. The seals on their foreheads illuminated for a brief amount of time. Nihil, in Will's hands, lightened and in that same moment, her mind opened, letting in a century old presence—the spirit of the gun whose name meant 'nothing', the banisher of homunculi like Katarin. Why, this could only mean one thing and Will's eyes widened in realization. Her earlier feeling was right. Esra was going to die. In the midst of Esra's bout with Katarin, she could feel his will weakening...now, with the relinquishing of his weapon, Esra felt farther, drifting... His light was fading.
"My time is over," Esra said, his palms toward the sky.
Will shook her head, hot tears falling fast. Dropping Nihil to the ground, she beat against Esra's chest with her fists, clutching the fabric of his jacket."You can't leave! Stay, stay, please stay... I-I—"
Silence. "Will...I'm...tired...of living like this. All I've known is sorrow and vengeance, pity, grief and shame. All I wish now is rest because what I've done is give false hope and run over people in my conquest for Katarin. Now, that I've realized my purpose, there is none left for me to do but sleep."
She stepped away, trying her best to hide her eyes from him. All along, she'd known, he'd still choose Katarin over her. What she didn't know was that she had to kill him—that was the price so given by Esra himself. She picked up the gun and, without turning to look at him she asked, "What am I to you?"
He was speechless. "Will..."
"Nevermind. That was a stupid question. So this...is goodbye?" Will wiped at her eyes...she couldn't face him like this. "Say something already!"
But he couldn't. He had handed over ownership of Nihil but, though it was small, he was still connected to that grand power. Now that it was in Will's hands, he could feel her sadness, her feelings... But his heart didn't desire to move forward... It was tired. That's all. To spare the girl, he embraced her, his wings creating a warm barrier around them... There he stayed for awhile. She was a frail creature despite her demeanor and it had been awhile since he had last been near a girl who held such feelings for him.
Will clawed at his arms, fighting through the tears. With the best voice she could muster, she said, "She's going to be mad. You unfaithful jerk... Now, let me go, I can't get a good shot of you unless I shoot myself but Nihil tells me I can't do that. It's against the rules—but you already know that."
He did so, reluctantly, and watched the girl stand a step or three away with the gun aimed at his seal.
"So it's goodbye?" she said with a half-hearted smile.
Esra, disposed of the knife embedded in his shoulder, not bothering to show how it hurt so bad... "Goodbye...Willow."
His tone of voice, his face, his eyes...she'll end up remembering him for as long as she held this gun. It...was a cruel punishment and shall remain as so but she had the following centuries to work it out.
Bang!
Letter From Lost Days
Just taking some time to gather my thoughts before opening some documents and typing. I feel that there aren't a lot of days where people stop and think about what's good. It's always something so immediate, something that has to be done right away, or something so depressing that it can't leave you alone...
As of late, I've peered into an old diary I kept in middle school, not a lot of years ago. Sadly, I ended up feeling years beyond 16, like I had been peering into the life of a child that lived...say...a century or decade from my time (whatever that means). I laughed and slapped my forehead in disbelief in what was my lame writing (since I wrote in print and mediocre cursive) and the words I chose to describe my day. It was...questionable.
Among the box where my diary was kept were stuffed toys, photos/pictures, little cut-outs from video game packages, old cards (one birthday one from my father and a christmas one from a classmate) and several notebooks/notepads (one of them given from a teacher where we had to write poetry in). The poetry...struck me the most, only because (from speculation) it was during the time when the title "best friends" didn't apply anymore. For the sake of practice for a piece I'm working on I'll attempt to describe what I saw...
Yeah. I blog as I think. Kind of makes me wonder how other people blog...?
Err...it appears I've blogged for too long (and here I was hoping for a short post to get the writing juices flowing) but it doesn't mean that I have to close down the word processing programs (of course I'd lose some sleep but...)
...reading over the post, another point was appreciating the good things wasn't it? I don't feel like I do that enough. And because of that I lose sight of what I want to accomplish. Right now, I want to get to writing! On the other hand, I should treat my body better and get some sleep (it's only fair since my body's been working overtime for the past week). Who knew the week after Spring Break would be a bit...difficult...? Haha I've got nothing to complain about though. It's just that the teachers are rushing on what information we need to get in our heads before assessments...again.
*pushes away school from brain* Aargh! Okay. I really need to stop drifting on and off topics here.
What we call 'life' passes by so quickly without us noticing because the concept of time is an illusion. But I'm sure you all know or have considered it as such at times.
As of late, I've peered into an old diary I kept in middle school, not a lot of years ago. Sadly, I ended up feeling years beyond 16, like I had been peering into the life of a child that lived...say...a century or decade from my time (whatever that means). I laughed and slapped my forehead in disbelief in what was my lame writing (since I wrote in print and mediocre cursive) and the words I chose to describe my day. It was...questionable.
Among the box where my diary was kept were stuffed toys, photos/pictures, little cut-outs from video game packages, old cards (one birthday one from my father and a christmas one from a classmate) and several notebooks/notepads (one of them given from a teacher where we had to write poetry in). The poetry...struck me the most, only because (from speculation) it was during the time when the title "best friends" didn't apply anymore. For the sake of practice for a piece I'm working on I'll attempt to describe what I saw...
The writing style was mixed--an array of printed letters and cursive. Words had no particular slant but deviated from left, right or straight; the words themselves either passed or never touched the guidelines of the paper. Some words are incoherent, meaning that emotions guided the shaky hand that wrote this piece--the stand-alone word "friend" written as such is the title. There is no date as to which this was written.So what was my point exactly for the previous bit of depressing information? Not a lot. I have seen books where it's in a diary perspective but the words are strictly in the words of the writer. I wanted to try something new for the purpose of practicing to what I think to be a bad/risky idea. Think a narrative in diary format but there are elements in it that describe certain aspects of the writing. Like another person, a third party, has read it already and noted things down beit memos or if words are omitted but are recognizable still so the words are written down and is noted afterwards to have been striked out...minor things like that. "There's only so much you can do with the typed word compared to the written word. So why not recreate it?" That's the point I'm trying to get across, I finally realized it just now. *hits forehead*
The content is as such, written in pencil:
friend
Somehow, you think of a person as a friend
And that they would be with you till the end
But like everything else, the term 'friend' is a facade
to the great scheme, preferably by god,
angel wings captivate innocence
and two hands conjoining captivates friend
but what is the deal [this is striked out] but when people are alone they tend,
to those pains in the heart that begets a fred (friend).
for me, a friend cost me things, emotions barter(ed) here and there,
the life being played from this path which I stray,
from fate and destiny,
I regret having this friend [the last two words are written with significantly more pressure than the rest].
Yeah. I blog as I think. Kind of makes me wonder how other people blog...?
Err...it appears I've blogged for too long (and here I was hoping for a short post to get the writing juices flowing) but it doesn't mean that I have to close down the word processing programs (of course I'd lose some sleep but...)
...reading over the post, another point was appreciating the good things wasn't it? I don't feel like I do that enough. And because of that I lose sight of what I want to accomplish. Right now, I want to get to writing! On the other hand, I should treat my body better and get some sleep (it's only fair since my body's been working overtime for the past week). Who knew the week after Spring Break would be a bit...difficult...? Haha I've got nothing to complain about though. It's just that the teachers are rushing on what information we need to get in our heads before assessments...again.
*pushes away school from brain* Aargh! Okay. I really need to stop drifting on and off topics here.
I remember a time of peace where, on those cloudy sunny days during lunch, on the large expanse of grass, there was no one around that could disturb the setting. So we'd lay there, backpacks propped underneath our heads as our eyes watched the clouds roll by. My hands intertwined together over my stomach--never had I felt more in tune with myself. I heard, felt, could hear myself breathe. A breeze never smelled so sweet. And the sky never looked so inviting. The clamor of reality simmered to a low buzz in my head, and all there was in this space was myself and a person I kept dear next to me at the time. It felt like an eternity before the sound of a bell broke this peace, signaling us back from the comforts of dreamworld.The box in which I kept my middle school things... I doubt I'll return it to it's place in the garage. But I shall close it eventually because it takes a considerable amount of space in my room. However, it's also been a considerable amount of time ever since I first closed my mind on the past. At least, on the good things. (And here I was wondering why I always thought of the bad things.) Without the good balancing the bad, what do you turn into I wonder?
And no, there were no animals. Just clouds.
What we call 'life' passes by so quickly without us noticing because the concept of time is an illusion. But I'm sure you all know or have considered it as such at times.
I LOST THE GAME.
"(damnation of memory)"
Fading into a nightmare
of delusions of grandeur
and vain suppositions of power...?
The people...are fading too.
A wellspring of faith
brings hope but
like a flickering candle--
it dies in the midst of a rough wind.
Bring your hands together
from the invisible chain that binds
those with the same fate
and fight to return to what once was.
A conquest of peace
brings about destruction--
Does this make it all the more worthy
or meaningful? meaningless?
Nightmares last
as long as the night lasts
but life continues onward for eternity--
Will we ever wake up?
A shallow sleep
is not sufficient
to take back what was lost
and forsaken.
in memoria di me--
aegri somnia de perdido.
(in memory of myself--
lost in troubled dreams)
--damnatio memoriae
Fading into a nightmare
of delusions of grandeur
and vain suppositions of power...?
The people...are fading too.
A wellspring of faith
brings hope but
like a flickering candle--
it dies in the midst of a rough wind.
Bring your hands together
from the invisible chain that binds
those with the same fate
and fight to return to what once was.
A conquest of peace
brings about destruction--
Does this make it all the more worthy
or meaningful? meaningless?
Nightmares last
as long as the night lasts
but life continues onward for eternity--
Will we ever wake up?
A shallow sleep
is not sufficient
to take back what was lost
and forsaken.
in memoria di me--
aegri somnia de perdido.
(in memory of myself--
lost in troubled dreams)
--damnatio memoriae
What ho! (the Shakespeare meaning please) Tis' another weekend to which I'm grateful is finally here. It's been a tough week for me but I'm sure others have it tougher than I. (If so, how are you? and you've got a listener on your side if one is called for.)
So lately I've been assigned by my Graphics teacher to design something for a T-shirt--it's a class project--but, what he doesn't know, is that I've been in a big artistic slump ever since I've been writing. Though I don't see it as a bad thing since I've been writing more poems as of late and that's quite an achievement for me (though they don't make much sense at times, or they focus on a character or a specific story). But I'm glad that I've gotten into the habit of writing in poem form since it helped me on an English assignment I had to do on Tennessee Williams' play A Streetcar Named Desire. It's a lovely play, though violent and at times suggestive, but it gave me a lot of insight on real-life conflicts and character development.
The strange thing in my school is that no one likes the books that are assigned...is that true? maybe, but I previously watched the movie and loved it so I loved the play version twice as much. Then, there was Millers' The Crucible, which I liked and made me take an interest in Nathaniel Hawthorne's works... Before that, we had to read various articles, though a bit boring (since the way we did these were really repetitive) they were on interesting subjects. Some, if I remember correctly were on: childhood obesity--who is responsible?; teenage crimes and whether sending them to adult jail was justified...things like that.
...I believe what I was trying to say is that reading is a fun and educational activity. Call me old fashioned but people, especially teenagers need to read more. I'm kind of tired, if not a little annoyed, when a student says something that is so obvious if they had read the material assigned.
I'm at a crossroads right now. One, I could continue ranting about what I find faulty in the educational system, while implementing multiple exclamation marks in the process. Or, two, I stick to my Libran nature and not poke the sleeping bear with a 3 cm toothpick. IT JUST CAN'T BE DONE! And besides, my mind wanders faster than the Roadrunner does from Wile E. Coyote. (I'm trying not to focus on anger because it makes me feel idiotic as I type.)
Is it just me who feels a bit lost? Probably...or not.
...Here's something that was mentioned today.
RULE 1: You are playing The Game.
RULE 2: Whenever you think about The Game, you lose.
RULE 3: Loss must be announced
The objective of the game is to forget it exists.
...Text spam
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Ll work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
L work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Ork and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Rk and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
K and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
And no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Nd no play makes Jack a dull boy.
D no play makes Jack a dull boy.
No play makes Jack a dull boy.
O play makes Jack a dull boy.
Play makes Jack a dull boy.
Lay makes Jack a dull boy.
Ay makes Jack a dull boy.
Y makes Jack a dull boy.
Makes Jack a dull boy.
Akes Jack a dull boy.
Kes Jack a dull boy.
Es Jack a dull boy.
Jack a dull boy.
Ack a dull boy.
Ck a dull boy.
K a dull boy.
A dull boy.
Dull boy.
Ull boy.
Ll boy.
L boy.
Boy.
Oy.
Y.
..that is all. :) No, of course not... I, in my boredom decided to post a scene that I just can't get right (I'm actually procrastinating but...)
Ll work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
L work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Ork and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Rk and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
K and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
And no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Nd no play makes Jack a dull boy.
D no play makes Jack a dull boy.
No play makes Jack a dull boy.
O play makes Jack a dull boy.
Play makes Jack a dull boy.
Lay makes Jack a dull boy.
Ay makes Jack a dull boy.
Y makes Jack a dull boy.
Makes Jack a dull boy.
Akes Jack a dull boy.
Kes Jack a dull boy.
Es Jack a dull boy.
Jack a dull boy.
Ack a dull boy.
Ck a dull boy.
K a dull boy.
A dull boy.
Dull boy.
Ull boy.
Ll boy.
L boy.
Boy.
Oy.
Y.
..that is all. :) No, of course not... I, in my boredom decided to post a scene that I just can't get right (I'm actually procrastinating but...)
“Stars fall constantly, that's why our sky is bleak and dark.”And there's a significant break after that. Critique, comments, any kind of feedback or random comment is welcome.
There is none but a moon, and sun—though small—that is constantly covered by thick clouds. A voice echoes, in that bleak reality, a reprimanding voice full of scorn. They say the world was forsaken. They say the world is doomed. They say the world is in the hands of a jealous god, who, sickly with envy and hatred for humans, wishes to extinguish their own creations...
A smile...sharp, jagged. Sunken hollow faces emerging from the fog...
Crunch! Goes the leaves under their steps as they neared the child amongst them. Long hair obscuring her shaky body, a torn dress soaked in red. She had tripped and fallen, losing her escort because of a game. This wasn't a game now.
The child, tears running from her eyes, looked around her, fear welling in the pit of her stomach. Then she stopped shaking. The hundreds of figures, the glowing, ravenous eyes, disappeared one by one, leaving a boy behind. He was like the others, pale in skin, though dressed fashionably in black and white, a red ribbon tied on his right index. Lorelei attempted to stand, suddenly noticing a ribbon on the same finger.
It wasn't there before.
Upon standing, the wound had healed and Lorelei had grown in age and appearance, from a young child to sixteen in a split second. The other had grown too, revealing a young man. He appeared to be the same age as Lorelei but there was something in his face that said otherwise. Tall and lean in structure, clad in a plain white dress shirt with hands in his trouser pockets. Through his dark layered hair were light blue eyes. Under that indifferent gaze revealed years of hurt. Suddenly, his mouth moved to form words, but Lorelei couldn't hear. He didn't seem bothered whether she heard or not.
Wanting to know more, she took a step towards him, he, backward. She paused momentarily, dashing forward to meet his challenge. He, with the same expression, spun around and walked away, gradually speeding up into a sprint. Lorelei was alone.
Fear, the same fear from her earlier encounter, returned. The same footsteps... The images from before, those human-like creatures... Panicking, she turned round and round, shouting with no voice, to something or someone... Whatever it was she was shouting, she noted three syllables...a name. She stopped and looked at her hands, the ribbon no longer present on her finger. Sadness leadened her heart.
To the left. The snapping of twigs. To the right. A faint breathing... She looked to the roof of the forest, catching a sparkle, no, several glints of light fall in the same direction the young man took. There she ran, constantly looking up at what she believed was the sky through the tops of the trees, using the fear of her assailants to push her bare feet harder.
And somewhere in her chase to find him, a verse came to mind. It was unfamiliar and not; like a tugging memory or a fragment of a dream...
“A sky full of stars where you can reach and take one if you wanted to.
A sky where light shines. A sky of springs and summers and autumns...
Somewhere, there's a sky that we'll watch together...
“Promise me this.”
...
For a second on the path, there was light. It's brightness consumed Lorelei's figure, swiftly turning to darkness. The forest scenery was gone and what remained was null space. He stood there, his back towards her. Slowly, he peered over his shoulder, his eyes registering the girl who stood meters away. Lorelei shuddered at his gaze.
For a second, there was sound, Lorelei's hands clenching the fabric of her silk nightgown. But nobody talked.
Then there was a tear that slid down Lorelei's face.
She remembered his name.
His name was...
Random song & poem for you all
Not much going on, except the week is almost over and that I'm trudging along with the writing. A couple of jarring things in real life have come up but it won't affect my internet life that much. :) And here's me using the concept of Pandora's box yet again while trying to keep that fairy-tale/fable-esque feeling since morality (or heaven and hell) is mentioned a lot in those stories... Oh, try to guess what the title is here. *goes to sleep*
Honor thy knight's code
and protect thy princess from harm
Slay the dragon barring your path
to claim said princess
as your beloved bride
Enter the chapel
in white and noble dress
awaiting the hand of your ethereal bride
Speak wishes and promises
sealing Pandora's box with a sweet and holy kiss
Burn, burn, burn
the holy kingdom above
Desecrate the sanctuary
that houses all the holy angels
and bring death to earthly heaven
Beckon the devil's advocates
and the unholy king to unleash his wrath
All the sinful sons and daughters
gather on this holy matrimonial day
to blacken the air with their spite
The sweet flower beckoning
thus plucked
unlocks the horrid chest
Unleashing the hellish desires
that overrun the knight's young heart
Obliterating the purity
that had dominated
this once magnanimous soul
For the angel withers under the devil's touch
and all is lost in the material world
CHIVALRY IS DEAD!
and protect thy princess from harm
Slay the dragon barring your path
to claim said princess
as your beloved bride
Enter the chapel
in white and noble dress
awaiting the hand of your ethereal bride
Speak wishes and promises
sealing Pandora's box with a sweet and holy kiss
Burn, burn, burn
the holy kingdom above
Desecrate the sanctuary
that houses all the holy angels
and bring death to earthly heaven
Beckon the devil's advocates
and the unholy king to unleash his wrath
All the sinful sons and daughters
gather on this holy matrimonial day
to blacken the air with their spite
The sweet flower beckoning
thus plucked
unlocks the horrid chest
Unleashing the hellish desires
that overrun the knight's young heart
Obliterating the purity
that had dominated
this once magnanimous soul
For the angel withers under the devil's touch
and all is lost in the material world
CHIVALRY IS DEAD!
SS# 158 Scary
Fear starts
in the deepest part of our hearts
because that's where we keep things true
In the merciless fog we call doubt
there is no way out
but up towards the heavens
Yet we cannot fly
no matter how much we beg and cry
to sprout wings on our undeserving backs
We're left here to face
what we've tried so hard to erase
from our thoughts and everyday life
So we wander, wondering
how and when the end to this suffering
finally arrives
But is there a way
to find the light of day
in this cumbersome shroud?
in the deepest part of our hearts
because that's where we keep things true
In the merciless fog we call doubt
there is no way out
but up towards the heavens
Yet we cannot fly
no matter how much we beg and cry
to sprout wings on our undeserving backs
We're left here to face
what we've tried so hard to erase
from our thoughts and everyday life
So we wander, wondering
how and when the end to this suffering
finally arrives
But is there a way
to find the light of day
in this cumbersome shroud?
My biggest fear probably is to keep burying things on top of another till it kills me from the inside out. D: That just sounds terrible.
Titles
Title, title, where art thou?
A name to call this story now;
Far and wide, I have sought,
A worthy name to fit this plot;
A list, reaching down, down, down,
All the way to that god-forsaken town;
St. Ezra, the name of an unholy saint,
Cannot possibly be the title I hope to take;
Of angels and demons, metaphorically, of innocence and sin,
Some kind of title...come on... What a rut I'm in!
A name to call this story now;
Far and wide, I have sought,
A worthy name to fit this plot;
A list, reaching down, down, down,
All the way to that god-forsaken town;
St. Ezra, the name of an unholy saint,
Cannot possibly be the title I hope to take;
Of angels and demons, metaphorically, of innocence and sin,
Some kind of title...come on... What a rut I'm in!
There's my dilemma for you...in nifty poem form. I have no fitting title for the re-write. But, I came here (since we have thirty minute periods b/c of an assembly before heading to Spring Break) to ask what defines a good title? Whether it's a story or even an essay (or a title for a person)... What does that title define for whatever object it's given?
I know that a title can't be given unless there was some sort of connection to, say...a book. The Metamorphosis obviously has some guy going through a great change. And The Idiot surely mentions...an idiot, to put it simply (but a lovable idiot at that). Oh. And a prime example: Harry Potter and the...(blah blah etc. etc.) You can't not know what's going to be introduced in the HP books if you haven't looked at the cover!
...So I'm sitting here wondering, and I have been sitting on this mental bench for awhile because all I can call my work now is Untitled or...the other names I listed next to all the character names and related poems. I've got to get focused on the main idea because, well, don't they sum up the most important part of a story? but in one word? (or three at best if you don't count those Panic! at the Disco songs...etc.)
A good title...before or after plot completion? :) Asking myself this, I say after plot completion. It only sounds right...*ponders*
Oh, Happy Thursday Bloggers it's almost the weekend and I hope everyone is pulling through fine...besides my title issue.
Mortal Peep Fight!...and a Screencap
I don't know. :D Felt like posting something I've been laughing at for a while.
I never liked Peeps anyway.
Ooh, check this out too!
Congratulations on the 1000 views Luna! I came across it randomly, hope you don't mind :3
I never liked Peeps anyway.
Ooh, check this out too!
Congratulations on the 1000 views Luna! I came across it randomly, hope you don't mind :3
SS# 157 Celebration
I've been choosing not to rhyme lately :) but this poem I had fun doing. When I hear "celebration" I immediately think of something happy...how about you? EDIT: finally gave the darn poem a title.
"The Misadventures of the Working Man"
i wander
and wonder
the desire of a celebration
on the day
when Death decided to creep closer...
“what is the purpose?”
i query to no one in particular
but all there is around me
is stark artifice
and the mocking blue sky
people abound
their suitcases and suits
with straightened ties
and snazzy haircuts
all have somewhere to go
while, i on the other hand
return to the emptiness
that is my apartment
down the street
of a begging homeless man
and somewhere along the curb
were the poorly disguised cars
and various transportation vehicles
of close friends and colleagues
with portfolio in hand
the key well into the lock
i take a deep breath
my eyes downcast
and open the door...
“SURPRISE!” they cry
CONGRATULATIONS!
writ on a banner on the wall
where balloons were set modestly
over a candle-lit cake
my dejected expression
caused the shouting party
to cease their revelry
and immediately became...
perplexed
as to what they were confused about
i didn't know, nor did i want to
but all i did know
was that the gathering was intended for my roommate
and i forgot to bring a present
...go me.
"The Misadventures of the Working Man"
i wander
and wonder
the desire of a celebration
on the day
when Death decided to creep closer...
“what is the purpose?”
i query to no one in particular
but all there is around me
is stark artifice
and the mocking blue sky
people abound
their suitcases and suits
with straightened ties
and snazzy haircuts
all have somewhere to go
while, i on the other hand
return to the emptiness
that is my apartment
down the street
of a begging homeless man
and somewhere along the curb
were the poorly disguised cars
and various transportation vehicles
of close friends and colleagues
with portfolio in hand
the key well into the lock
i take a deep breath
my eyes downcast
and open the door...
“SURPRISE!” they cry
CONGRATULATIONS!
writ on a banner on the wall
where balloons were set modestly
over a candle-lit cake
my dejected expression
caused the shouting party
to cease their revelry
and immediately became...
perplexed
as to what they were confused about
i didn't know, nor did i want to
but all i did know
was that the gathering was intended for my roommate
and i forgot to bring a present
...go me.
(hesitation)
I just wanted to post something I thought was nice...though unrelated to me personally. :)
darkness surrounds
the depths of my mind
where dreams and hopes
illuminate this entity
like pandora's box
there is a key
and demons
with hope stashed in the very bottom
though where that key is...
it's in my hand
in my mind
as my greatest fear
do i?
must i?
i don't want to yet i have to
wake up and live and forget...
i dismiss my dream
as another phantasm
of a fragment of a memory i had lost
or a never ending night terror haunting me still
...my hesitation
what is it that i had forgotten?
what was it that led me here?
i see a box in the nightstand and a key in the drawer
i take the key with the desire to open it
...but I stop
the peal of childlike laughter
rings in my ears
clear like the resonant bell
that will ring on my wedding day
this box
i suddenly can't remember...the purpose
as i stood here
perplexed
then a voice calls
my name
and a time
to where i have to be in an hour
hearing this
i drop the key
and dress in a hurry
unawares of what i left behind
...the key to what i'd forgotten
wrapped in a pretty pink box
was the hope i had when i was twelve
to dance as elegantly as a swan
and somewhere along the lines
a faint tune could be heard
pachelbel's canon in d
in music box form
it was as if my heart had been pulled
like the strings of a violin
as i fell to the ground with grateful tears
to remember the dream i erased
the hesitation of hope
is purposeful i guess
for i'm grateful
for both the song and the two arms locked in a comforting embrace
only in a dream
does pandora's box close
but this isn't a dream isn't it?
soft words melding into a song...
a lullaby to quell
even the deepest of fears
for what i gave up is
for someone i equally loved.
darkness surrounds
the depths of my mind
where dreams and hopes
illuminate this entity
like pandora's box
there is a key
and demons
with hope stashed in the very bottom
though where that key is...
it's in my hand
in my mind
as my greatest fear
do i?
must i?
i don't want to yet i have to
wake up and live and forget...
i dismiss my dream
as another phantasm
of a fragment of a memory i had lost
or a never ending night terror haunting me still
...my hesitation
what is it that i had forgotten?
what was it that led me here?
i see a box in the nightstand and a key in the drawer
i take the key with the desire to open it
...but I stop
the peal of childlike laughter
rings in my ears
clear like the resonant bell
that will ring on my wedding day
this box
i suddenly can't remember...the purpose
as i stood here
perplexed
then a voice calls
my name
and a time
to where i have to be in an hour
hearing this
i drop the key
and dress in a hurry
unawares of what i left behind
...the key to what i'd forgotten
wrapped in a pretty pink box
was the hope i had when i was twelve
to dance as elegantly as a swan
and somewhere along the lines
a faint tune could be heard
pachelbel's canon in d
in music box form
it was as if my heart had been pulled
like the strings of a violin
as i fell to the ground with grateful tears
to remember the dream i erased
the hesitation of hope
is purposeful i guess
for i'm grateful
for both the song and the two arms locked in a comforting embrace
only in a dream
does pandora's box close
but this isn't a dream isn't it?
soft words melding into a song...
a lullaby to quell
even the deepest of fears
for what i gave up is
for someone i equally loved.
The Sleepless Dreamer and Dreamless Sleepers
Happy Friday everyone!
Alright, so maybe not everyone is having a happy Friday or a happy...whatever...but know that I wish you well wherever you are...and to backup your writings and important computer stuffs however you can.
I'm just glad the account documents were saved onto the Mac's hard disk...automatically.
Long story short, I just had the biggest computer scare I've had for awhile. The first was when my laptop was overwhelmed by some pesky malware that took over my desktop and tried to make me sign up for fraudulent virus prevention software. But I came out unscathed...except that that laptop's memory is F-R-I-E-D. Fried. I don't know if I've mentioned this but it wasn't mine in the first place anyways... It was my step-brother's R and he just played World of Warcraft (and did other stuff, I'm just not sure what) before giving it away (*cough*selling for a profit*cough*)
To rectify my past meaningless posts, I'll dig something from my piles of notes about what I'm working on (It's the weekend so I can focus on this finally!)...
Alright, so maybe not everyone is having a happy Friday or a happy...whatever...but know that I wish you well wherever you are...and to backup your writings and important computer stuffs however you can.
I'm just glad the account documents were saved onto the Mac's hard disk...automatically.
Long story short, I just had the biggest computer scare I've had for awhile. The first was when my laptop was overwhelmed by some pesky malware that took over my desktop and tried to make me sign up for fraudulent virus prevention software. But I came out unscathed...except that that laptop's memory is F-R-I-E-D. Fried. I don't know if I've mentioned this but it wasn't mine in the first place anyways... It was my step-brother's R and he just played World of Warcraft (and did other stuff, I'm just not sure what) before giving it away (*cough*selling for a profit*cough*)
To rectify my past meaningless posts, I'll dig something from my piles of notes about what I'm working on (It's the weekend so I can focus on this finally!)...
I've always wanted to have a dreamy storytelling style. Dreamy in the sense that the reader is aware of the character's individual conscience and see through their perspective without using 1st person point of view. 1st per. PoV doesn't necessarily agree with me. You see, just because I like to explain myself, my empathetic nature really gets to me when I do a 1st prson narrative but I have to be able to focus on that character, as well as keep the atmosphere in the story similar to the atmosphere in real life. I doubt I can write a sad, harrowing scene when Pop music is playing or cartoons are blaring on the tv--just to give examples.
Moving along...a writer friend of mine said I write in third person omniscient and blah blah etc. etc. As much as there are technical names to label how a person writes, I honestly just want to write however this story comes to me. Surely, other writers feel the same way...until they take their work to a publisher. Now that's where we have to get a bit technical with how we do things, since everything's been written already--the dreamy part is over--writers revise according to how an editor sees fit. And, from what I gathered from the experiences of published authors, it's difficult. Editing, overall, is difficult..but they pull through it somehow.
...you know, that wasn't the topic I wanted to address, but I was thinking about it all the same.
So, sleepers and dreamers...don't take it the wrong way :) I'm working on the concept but I thought sharing it would be best.
How I defined these two terms came lightning fast in that epiphany-type moment or the shout-out-loud "Aha" moment. (Now I know I'm not the only one that's been reprimanded for talking loudly when it's dead silent...and yes, I've been perusing the Dictionaries and Thesauri laying around (even the ones at school)) Hmm...so what is the meaning to the blog title? Sleepless and dreamless are pretty self explanatory (as I thought to myself earlier today) but what about the other words? *starts rifling through notes and dictionary*
Hmm...most likely it's because: 1) I'm more comfortable here, especially since I can play awesome ambient music really loud where no one springs at me every few seconds asking what I'm listening to 2) I;m sitting in a comfortable chair and wear equally comfortable clothing 3) NO OUTSIDE DISTRACTIONS?! *laughs triumphantly*
Oh, and I have a lot of space to put my notes and junk without having to worry about people (again) asking what I'm doing and then attempt to get a peek at my papers and even have the gall to snatch them from my workspace and read stuff out loud D: Then again, I have this weird print-cursive writing style that causes people to scratch the back of their heads in wonder.
Its the weekend. I've got time. I'm fairly happy with the goings on in my life. I've got a functioning computer. Now I'm very happy...just because everything seems to be going well. So, I hope the length of this post can be excused. :3
EDIT: Hey it's the 60th post! *dances randomly and horribly*
Moving along...a writer friend of mine said I write in third person omniscient and blah blah etc. etc. As much as there are technical names to label how a person writes, I honestly just want to write however this story comes to me. Surely, other writers feel the same way...until they take their work to a publisher. Now that's where we have to get a bit technical with how we do things, since everything's been written already--the dreamy part is over--writers revise according to how an editor sees fit. And, from what I gathered from the experiences of published authors, it's difficult. Editing, overall, is difficult..but they pull through it somehow.
...you know, that wasn't the topic I wanted to address, but I was thinking about it all the same.
So, sleepers and dreamers...don't take it the wrong way :) I'm working on the concept but I thought sharing it would be best.
How I defined these two terms came lightning fast in that epiphany-type moment or the shout-out-loud "Aha" moment. (Now I know I'm not the only one that's been reprimanded for talking loudly when it's dead silent...and yes, I've been perusing the Dictionaries and Thesauri laying around (even the ones at school)) Hmm...so what is the meaning to the blog title? Sleepless and dreamless are pretty self explanatory (as I thought to myself earlier today) but what about the other words? *starts rifling through notes and dictionary*
- Dreamer: someone who has plans that are not practical; something beautiful that can only be seen in a dream...etc.
- Sleep: to rest your mind and body by lying down with your eyes closed; any condition of inactivity or rest; death; Sleeper: One or who that which sleeps; someone or something thought to be unpromising that unexpectedly attains value, importance, notoriety, etc.
Time slows and memory is an illusionThe above probably won't make much sense since it's only part of a poem...most likely I should say. ^^'' So I came up with the following:
Those beyond the Holy city, drift into a profound sleep;
While those within live through this ice-cold reality
Throughout this dark delusion, one half seeks another--
The sleeper seeks the dreamer in order to find truth in the blinding fog.
+ + + The sleepless dreamer is caught in their own delusions of what used to be (maybe of grandeur). Sleepless, means restless. Dreamer means one who looks not on reality but on fantasy or what does not exist...anymore. They, unlike sleepers, have long since blocked out the hurtful things in their life and, thus, cannot live in -this- reality because it is full of hurtful things. Another good way to put this is that they are in denial(?). The epitome of innocence (?).I omitted a lot of stuff but there's a visual of my thought process for you. I thought it'd be a fun thing to share since I too wanted to know myself. I wanted to know whether I really do think better when I'm at the computer than on paper at school or anywhere else.
+ + + The sleeper without dreams can be seen as a realist. They, having forgotten or forsaken the ways of being childlike in nature or heart, are on a path to self-destruction. They walk, indifferent, because of past conflicts, of broken promises...someone with a long memory. Being able to dream is being able to step in a children's world where answers are given as candidly as possible; "Dreams are the territory of children etc. etc."
Hmm...most likely it's because: 1) I'm more comfortable here, especially since I can play awesome ambient music really loud where no one springs at me every few seconds asking what I'm listening to 2) I;m sitting in a comfortable chair and wear equally comfortable clothing 3) NO OUTSIDE DISTRACTIONS?! *laughs triumphantly*
Oh, and I have a lot of space to put my notes and junk without having to worry about people (again) asking what I'm doing and then attempt to get a peek at my papers and even have the gall to snatch them from my workspace and read stuff out loud D: Then again, I have this weird print-cursive writing style that causes people to scratch the back of their heads in wonder.
Its the weekend. I've got time. I'm fairly happy with the goings on in my life. I've got a functioning computer. Now I'm very happy...just because everything seems to be going well. So, I hope the length of this post can be excused. :3
EDIT: Hey it's the 60th post! *dances randomly and horribly*
