Hello there, bloggetts. So, we're ending the 2000's. And it's not every year that I can say that with such pride. I've gone through everything from moving to preschool to moving again to homeschooling to moving into the attic to middleschool (aka hell) to suicidal thoughts to realizing the pain of death to self-discoverment to writing to art to music to highschool. It's been a hectic, awesome ten years. I remeber the party I went to when I was four to celebrate the new millenia. The start... and now it's 2009 and we've reached the end.
You know what brought this wacko post? I read one of my friend's post on the past years and hopes for the new year. But first the resolutions... the little things I want to do and change about myself for a better me:
THE RESOLUTIONS>>>
1) that I stop being a coward - more active (as is appropriate) in everything, you know, politically, culturally, religiously.. etc.
2) that I spread the peace and love like a creepy hippie :)
3) that I make time for the things and people I love: writing, art, music, design, friends :)
4) and that I might possibly, pretty please, start eating and exercising more healthily!
AND THAT'S IT!
But here, we go...
Large Scale
What word will define the 2000s? Discovery.
What was the most significant political event of the 2000s? The election of Barack Obama, I suppose.
What was the greatest TV series of the 2000s? Something between Castle and NCIS and Criminal Minds and Ugly Betty.
Greatest Tragedy of the 2000s? War, 9/11, abortion.
Most influential person of the decade? um - NO IDEA.
Personal
Of the ten years of the last decade, which one was your favourite? 2009: my happiest, best, most defining year yet.
Which was your least-favourite? 2007. seventh grade = hell.
Was it a life changing decade for you? YES. I grew up in this decade. I'm changing everyday, every second.
Highlight of the 2000s? Traveling, family bonding, friend bonding, love, music, health, memories.
Lowlight of the 2000s? moving (to Pittsburgh - it started out as a low, then ended as a high) and 7th grade where people had to "watch" me a lot...
Are you happier or sadder? happier. I've gone through a lot and made it out alive. Defo changed for the better.
What do you plan to tell your grandchildren about? what I've learned. How life sucks, and, though you may want to die, you need to live for those who love you; that following your dreams is started by taking ONE step - following them is important for life!
The Future
What is your greatest fear for the coming decade, on a global scale? that we will loose our value of life. fresh water. respect for others.
What is your greatest fear on a national scale? the healthcare that will pay for abortions. it isn't right - never will be!
What is your greatest fear on a personal scale? That I'll never be able to go all those places I've wanted to go - that I'll never be able to be the globe trotter, my dream. that my books will never be published... or my art never loved by anyone but my friends...
What is your greatest hope for the coming decade, on a global scale? For some kind of youth revolution. that the youth will realize just how much power we wield and how we can expand and live!
What is your greatest hope on a national scale? that we realize that we have to help our own nation before taking on the world. let's feed the hungry here before we feed the worlds.
What is your greatest hope on a personal scale? Financial stability; college; book publishing and art selling frenzy.
WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR THE NEW YEAR? RESOLUTIONS? HOPES? :D COMMENTOS!
A.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Three Piles of White Ash
my revised scary story for hnrs. eng. I. tell me if you like it!!!
Curtained in long lashes and eyelids shadowed in black, the woman's eyes were closed. She lay on the floor of the forest, the dead, lifeless trees stretching into eternity before her. Her bloodless face the palest of whites and her body covered in a ruby red cloak. Her long hair, tangled with twigs and leaves, fell about her face. Lips the color of blood whispering to the grey sky, dusk approaching as quick as the desperate whispers; she was whispering.
The man watched her seemingly lifeless body, waiting for her to breathe. She is whispering, he thought. She is whispering, but not breathing. It didn't seem possible, but there she lay, still as a lifeless corpse, whispering without breathe. He gasped as she sat up. He watched, enticed by her beautiful face to look onwards; he admired the perfect face.
She looked at him through her closed eyelids, but suddenly that sight was not enough. She stood up. She opened her eyes, expecting to see his horrified face turn and run. He stood still watching her, his face even. She saw more clearly his face, his closed eyes. She gazed, shocked.
He saw her eyes and felt the urge to run. They were the same kind. He approached her, touching her face as it hung awkwardly from her neck in the position of a dead person, touching her face around her white eyes. She responded by touching his closed eyelids and swerving uncomfortably, disturbingly. He ignored the burn he felt when he touched her skin.
She watched with certain fascination as he opened his eyes. She looked into the whiteness that lay between his eyelids. She felt the burn where he touched her face. Her red lips pressed into a smile, the burning felt good. She reveled in the touch of his long, elegant fingers. She picked a twig from his dark, tangled hair. She ran her fingers along his red lips. She barely noted that his head was hanging awkwardly from his neck. Watching his face with an upsetting amount of attentiveness, she did not notice the moon rising.
But, then, he did not see the moon rise either; he saw nothing but her glorious face.
OKAY... i'll post the rest later... i got dance!!!
Curtained in long lashes and eyelids shadowed in black, the woman's eyes were closed. She lay on the floor of the forest, the dead, lifeless trees stretching into eternity before her. Her bloodless face the palest of whites and her body covered in a ruby red cloak. Her long hair, tangled with twigs and leaves, fell about her face. Lips the color of blood whispering to the grey sky, dusk approaching as quick as the desperate whispers; she was whispering.
The man watched her seemingly lifeless body, waiting for her to breathe. She is whispering, he thought. She is whispering, but not breathing. It didn't seem possible, but there she lay, still as a lifeless corpse, whispering without breathe. He gasped as she sat up. He watched, enticed by her beautiful face to look onwards; he admired the perfect face.
She looked at him through her closed eyelids, but suddenly that sight was not enough. She stood up. She opened her eyes, expecting to see his horrified face turn and run. He stood still watching her, his face even. She saw more clearly his face, his closed eyes. She gazed, shocked.
He saw her eyes and felt the urge to run. They were the same kind. He approached her, touching her face as it hung awkwardly from her neck in the position of a dead person, touching her face around her white eyes. She responded by touching his closed eyelids and swerving uncomfortably, disturbingly. He ignored the burn he felt when he touched her skin.
She watched with certain fascination as he opened his eyes. She looked into the whiteness that lay between his eyelids. She felt the burn where he touched her face. Her red lips pressed into a smile, the burning felt good. She reveled in the touch of his long, elegant fingers. She picked a twig from his dark, tangled hair. She ran her fingers along his red lips. She barely noted that his head was hanging awkwardly from his neck. Watching his face with an upsetting amount of attentiveness, she did not notice the moon rising.
But, then, he did not see the moon rise either; he saw nothing but her glorious face.
OKAY... i'll post the rest later... i got dance!!!
Monday, November 2, 2009
Because sometimes, all you need is a dream...
And this story, here, is the fulfillment of simple things I've always wanted to do. I've always wanted to dance on the rain, and go to camp on a farm, and have to wear 'girly' clothes (I know that's a stretch, but sometimes I'd love to pull off being kind of Indie), and manage all these guy friends (NOT something I'm good at), and have this poetic ability to step back when I really would like to snap a certain annoyance's head off. This is the embodiment of dreams. My FAV <3
The rain pattered on my roof. I looked at Jane, my best friend, sleeping on the couch in my room. I saw the rain racing down the window in crystalline streams. I looked back at Jane, then out the window. I made my decision and pushed up the window stepping out on the roof. Scaling down the terrace, I wondered what Jane would think when she saw my bed was empty. Maybe I’d be back by then. The rain was cold and wet and felt so good on my skin. I stepped out the back gate and into the alleyway, twirling in the rain.
The moon wasn’t covered by the rain; rather it was amplified by the rain. I spun around with my eyes closed at the droplets fell down my arms, legs, and torso; I breathed deeply. After waking up from the haze, I slid back into my backyard and climbed the terrace to return sitting on my roof. Jane knocked on the window. I smiled and waved for her to come out.
“Hey there, I was wondering where you went,” she said, climbing out. “Dancing in the rain?”
“Yeah, just did it impulsively,” I said. Jane looked at me as if I were crazy. Maybe I was. She smiled softly. “Look,” I pointed. “There’s Matt.” I pointed to a car’s dimmed lights pulling into the driveway down the street.
“There’s Matt,” she echoed. The rain pulsed her hair into her face and I brushed it away.
“You missed him, didn’t you,” I commented. She nodded, blinking fast. “Don’t worry, he’s here now.”
“Yeah, I’m glad he is.”
“Let’s go back inside, Jane,” I suggested. “I need to change.”
“Same here,” she said quietly.
With that, we climbed back down into my room and grabbed towels from my bathroom.
“What’s it feel like?” I whispered.
“What?” she asked, surprised.
“Love. Remind me,” I replied.
“It’s like – whenever he sees me, he smiles so wide and you can see that he really is happy to see me. And whenever he claims me as his, my chest puffs out like a rooster’s and I can’t contain my happiness; I feel so happy just to know that I love him.” Jane looked at me and touched my shoulder. “He was a jerk, Claude. Forget him.”
“Kind of hard to,” I said bitterly. “He was my first. He’s still mad for no reason at all. Guess he can’t get over it. I’d like to be friends like we were.”
“It’s Tom, Claudia,” she tried to console my guilt. “Tom never gets over anything.”
Comments? Questions? Need for plot development? Email me, txt me, COMMENT!!!!
Much Love,
Asiat
The rain pattered on my roof. I looked at Jane, my best friend, sleeping on the couch in my room. I saw the rain racing down the window in crystalline streams. I looked back at Jane, then out the window. I made my decision and pushed up the window stepping out on the roof. Scaling down the terrace, I wondered what Jane would think when she saw my bed was empty. Maybe I’d be back by then. The rain was cold and wet and felt so good on my skin. I stepped out the back gate and into the alleyway, twirling in the rain.
The moon wasn’t covered by the rain; rather it was amplified by the rain. I spun around with my eyes closed at the droplets fell down my arms, legs, and torso; I breathed deeply. After waking up from the haze, I slid back into my backyard and climbed the terrace to return sitting on my roof. Jane knocked on the window. I smiled and waved for her to come out.
“Hey there, I was wondering where you went,” she said, climbing out. “Dancing in the rain?”
“Yeah, just did it impulsively,” I said. Jane looked at me as if I were crazy. Maybe I was. She smiled softly. “Look,” I pointed. “There’s Matt.” I pointed to a car’s dimmed lights pulling into the driveway down the street.
“There’s Matt,” she echoed. The rain pulsed her hair into her face and I brushed it away.
“You missed him, didn’t you,” I commented. She nodded, blinking fast. “Don’t worry, he’s here now.”
“Yeah, I’m glad he is.”
“Let’s go back inside, Jane,” I suggested. “I need to change.”
“Same here,” she said quietly.
With that, we climbed back down into my room and grabbed towels from my bathroom.
“What’s it feel like?” I whispered.
“What?” she asked, surprised.
“Love. Remind me,” I replied.
“It’s like – whenever he sees me, he smiles so wide and you can see that he really is happy to see me. And whenever he claims me as his, my chest puffs out like a rooster’s and I can’t contain my happiness; I feel so happy just to know that I love him.” Jane looked at me and touched my shoulder. “He was a jerk, Claude. Forget him.”
“Kind of hard to,” I said bitterly. “He was my first. He’s still mad for no reason at all. Guess he can’t get over it. I’d like to be friends like we were.”
“It’s Tom, Claudia,” she tried to console my guilt. “Tom never gets over anything.”
Comments? Questions? Need for plot development? Email me, txt me, COMMENT!!!!
Much Love,
Asiat
Friday, September 25, 2009
not much :(
Simon Lex was a man of few words, fewer friends, and even fewer ambitions. He was tall, lanky, and somewhat nerdy; he had grey eyes, pale skin, and dark brown hair. He spoke only when he had something to say. He worked as a consultant and investigator with police and was extremely popular because of it. And all this was unwanted recognition and fame.
For some unfathomable reason, women were attracted to him, even though he was extremely uncomfortable with most of them.
“I am quite busy, Miss,” was all he would say to the girls who called for his attention, looking through his specs and over his book. Women, in truth, felt secure around him – but, was there any woman who wouldn’t? He was, after all, responsible for putting eighty criminals behind bars.
Simon Lex would seem to many as a man without a home, but this was not so. He lived with his school mate, Tom Goldings. Tom Goldings shared the inherited house with his sister, Harriet ever since their parents murder twelve years previously. Lex had solved the murder when he was just seventeen. And, despite this tragedy, they were all the best of friends – even though Simon’s fancy for Harriet provided for some awkward situations.
All I've got for now, girlies!
<3>
For some unfathomable reason, women were attracted to him, even though he was extremely uncomfortable with most of them.
“I am quite busy, Miss,” was all he would say to the girls who called for his attention, looking through his specs and over his book. Women, in truth, felt secure around him – but, was there any woman who wouldn’t? He was, after all, responsible for putting eighty criminals behind bars.
Simon Lex would seem to many as a man without a home, but this was not so. He lived with his school mate, Tom Goldings. Tom Goldings shared the inherited house with his sister, Harriet ever since their parents murder twelve years previously. Lex had solved the murder when he was just seventeen. And, despite this tragedy, they were all the best of friends – even though Simon’s fancy for Harriet provided for some awkward situations.
All I've got for now, girlies!
<3>
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Vortican, check your inbox!!!
Okay, I give up on the Oakland/HighSchool post - it's much too hard to take pictures of Oakland when you're on a moving bus that wants to kill you. :( It's also very weird when people stare at you because you're taking pictures of yourself or them...
BUT, i continue my grand quest of posting Kristy's Story. And, like i said, Vortican CHECK YOUR INBOX!!!! you too, ECPM! you'll find a summary in there and the "final scene". *MUCH SPOILERS*
While the others laughed over scrambled eggs, I quietly walked upstairs. Allan was still sleeping peacefully. I brushed the hair away from his face and marveled at his perfect boyish complexion. I knew that from the day he was born to the day he died, he would be the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to me. He was the greatest miracle I could have ever received. I sat on the bed next to him, just looking at him.
There was a knock at the door.
“May I come in?” Emilia asked. I nodded. She came and stood by me. “He’s a marvelous-looking boy. Going to be a killer with the ladies, I see.” I just smiled.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “He’s a killer already. Killed Alice and me.” Emilia patted my shoulder.
“Where’s his father in all this mess?” she said. “It’s a shame.”
“It is a shame,” I said coldly.
“I’m sorry,” Emilia said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No,” I said “You shouldn’t have.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was wondering if you still were offering to help around here. Jack saw some questionable people hanging around. He thought that it would look more normal if you would do something. I told him I’d ask, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No,” I said. “I want to do something to help. You’ve already saved our lives. That’s a debt not so easily paid. What do you want me to do first?”
“I thought you’d say that,” Emilia smiled. “I’ll go get some clothespins and the wet laundry. You see, in the country, we still air-dry our laundry.”
“My only request is that somebody stay with Allan,” I said.
“Well, Chief said one of the boys gotta’ stay with you, the other’s gotta’ stay with Allan,” she explained. “So that’s taken care of. Let me call Jack to take the first shift with Allan. In four hours Jack and Allan’ll switch. Okay?”
“Sure. Now where’s that laundry?”
<3>
Much Love, my girls,
A.
BUT, i continue my grand quest of posting Kristy's Story. And, like i said, Vortican CHECK YOUR INBOX!!!! you too, ECPM! you'll find a summary in there and the "final scene". *MUCH SPOILERS*
While the others laughed over scrambled eggs, I quietly walked upstairs. Allan was still sleeping peacefully. I brushed the hair away from his face and marveled at his perfect boyish complexion. I knew that from the day he was born to the day he died, he would be the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to me. He was the greatest miracle I could have ever received. I sat on the bed next to him, just looking at him.
There was a knock at the door.
“May I come in?” Emilia asked. I nodded. She came and stood by me. “He’s a marvelous-looking boy. Going to be a killer with the ladies, I see.” I just smiled.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “He’s a killer already. Killed Alice and me.” Emilia patted my shoulder.
“Where’s his father in all this mess?” she said. “It’s a shame.”
“It is a shame,” I said coldly.
“I’m sorry,” Emilia said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No,” I said “You shouldn’t have.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was wondering if you still were offering to help around here. Jack saw some questionable people hanging around. He thought that it would look more normal if you would do something. I told him I’d ask, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“No,” I said. “I want to do something to help. You’ve already saved our lives. That’s a debt not so easily paid. What do you want me to do first?”
“I thought you’d say that,” Emilia smiled. “I’ll go get some clothespins and the wet laundry. You see, in the country, we still air-dry our laundry.”
“My only request is that somebody stay with Allan,” I said.
“Well, Chief said one of the boys gotta’ stay with you, the other’s gotta’ stay with Allan,” she explained. “So that’s taken care of. Let me call Jack to take the first shift with Allan. In four hours Jack and Allan’ll switch. Okay?”
“Sure. Now where’s that laundry?”
<3>
Much Love, my girls,
A.
Friday, September 4, 2009
More, More, More...
We have a while before I have to switch to the "new" story (that I told Vortican about...). I'll probably do a post about highschool within the next week (when stuff like pictures of Oakland are taken...)
BUT till then, more Kristy's story. And, c'mon guys!!!, I NEED A NAME!!!
I slipped into a nightgown and was surprised at just how exhausted I was. I fell in and out of sleep anyway and woke up before five. I took my shabby bathrobe and bundled myself in it and went downstairs.
“Oh, I didn’t think anyone was awake besides me.” I gasped and turned, but it was only Jack. “Do you want some coffee?” he asked. I nodded.
“How did you get here so early?” I asked, leaning on his mother’s kitchen counter.
“I sometimes sleep on the couch, when mum let’s me,” he explained. “Besides, Chief told me I was supposed to stay. What do you want?”
“Milk and two sugars,” I replied. “I feel like I’m intruding. Does your mum do this often?”
“She used to, back when dad was alive,” he said, stirring the coffee. “Dad would bring all manner of people – criminals and judges, too – home and somehow they all behaved. They said it was because my mum didn’t take nonsense.”
“I’m sure,” I said wryly.
“She didn’t,” Jack said honestly. “Never, ever.”
“Hmmm,” I said, mocking thoughtfulness. “At least Allan won’t get spoiled here.” He laughed. “I’m serious. Alice would… Oh Alice.”
“C’mon, the hospital’s open now,” Jack said. “Mum’s got a telephone for emergencies, so you can call ‘em. See how Ms. Brown is.” He got up and called the hospital up on the telephone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, I’m calling to inquire about Ms. Alice Brown,” I said, trying to be really nice. “About her condition.”
“And who is inquiring?”
“Ms. Kristy Clare,” I answered.
“Okay. Ms. Brown is in stable condition.”
“And?” I asked.
“I can’t disclose this information with anyone but the family. I’m sorry, have a nice day.” Then I heard her place the telephone back.
I sighed, somewhat disappointed.
“I don’t think they’ll let me see her,” I whispered. A tear fell from my cheek and I whipped it away quickly.
“What’s that?” Jack asked, handing me a hot cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” I said. He nodded. “I said that I don’t think they’ll let me see Alice ‘cause I’m not family.” I gulped the coffee down.
“I’m sorry ‘bout that,” he said, smiling gently.
“It’s alright,” I replied.
“Hey, there,” Andy Mercy said, coming down the stairs. “Your mum’s coming down the front steps, Stork.” Andy poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Morning, Andy,” I smiled.
“Morning, Ms. Clare,” Andy smiled.
“Jack! Get over here!” Mrs. Wilson cried. Jack rolled his eyes; patted Andy’s back and left.
“Where you from, Andy?” I asked.
“I’m from the slums,” he answered. He got up and poured himself some coffee. We clinked cups.
“’Morning, Andy, Kristy,” Mrs. Wilson hollered, coming into the kitchen. “How are you two on this fine and dandy morning?”
“I’m well, Mrs. Wilson,” I smiled. “What about you? Is there anything I can do to help around here?”
“Don’t worry about doing nothing, Kristy,” Mrs. Wilson said, rubbing my shoulders. “We’re all family here, so eventually I’ll use you for somethin’. And call me Emilia, or Em, please.”
“I’m sure there’s something I can do around here,” I said, eager to help. If this woman was going to risk her life to save me, the least I could do was some household chores. “The dishes maybe?”
“Maybe, Kristy,” Emilia laughed. “Maybe.”
Good? Commentos? Have fun!
Ciao, Darling gals :P
Asiat.
BUT till then, more Kristy's story. And, c'mon guys!!!, I NEED A NAME!!!
I slipped into a nightgown and was surprised at just how exhausted I was. I fell in and out of sleep anyway and woke up before five. I took my shabby bathrobe and bundled myself in it and went downstairs.
“Oh, I didn’t think anyone was awake besides me.” I gasped and turned, but it was only Jack. “Do you want some coffee?” he asked. I nodded.
“How did you get here so early?” I asked, leaning on his mother’s kitchen counter.
“I sometimes sleep on the couch, when mum let’s me,” he explained. “Besides, Chief told me I was supposed to stay. What do you want?”
“Milk and two sugars,” I replied. “I feel like I’m intruding. Does your mum do this often?”
“She used to, back when dad was alive,” he said, stirring the coffee. “Dad would bring all manner of people – criminals and judges, too – home and somehow they all behaved. They said it was because my mum didn’t take nonsense.”
“I’m sure,” I said wryly.
“She didn’t,” Jack said honestly. “Never, ever.”
“Hmmm,” I said, mocking thoughtfulness. “At least Allan won’t get spoiled here.” He laughed. “I’m serious. Alice would… Oh Alice.”
“C’mon, the hospital’s open now,” Jack said. “Mum’s got a telephone for emergencies, so you can call ‘em. See how Ms. Brown is.” He got up and called the hospital up on the telephone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, I’m calling to inquire about Ms. Alice Brown,” I said, trying to be really nice. “About her condition.”
“And who is inquiring?”
“Ms. Kristy Clare,” I answered.
“Okay. Ms. Brown is in stable condition.”
“And?” I asked.
“I can’t disclose this information with anyone but the family. I’m sorry, have a nice day.” Then I heard her place the telephone back.
I sighed, somewhat disappointed.
“I don’t think they’ll let me see her,” I whispered. A tear fell from my cheek and I whipped it away quickly.
“What’s that?” Jack asked, handing me a hot cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” I said. He nodded. “I said that I don’t think they’ll let me see Alice ‘cause I’m not family.” I gulped the coffee down.
“I’m sorry ‘bout that,” he said, smiling gently.
“It’s alright,” I replied.
“Hey, there,” Andy Mercy said, coming down the stairs. “Your mum’s coming down the front steps, Stork.” Andy poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Morning, Andy,” I smiled.
“Morning, Ms. Clare,” Andy smiled.
“Jack! Get over here!” Mrs. Wilson cried. Jack rolled his eyes; patted Andy’s back and left.
“Where you from, Andy?” I asked.
“I’m from the slums,” he answered. He got up and poured himself some coffee. We clinked cups.
“’Morning, Andy, Kristy,” Mrs. Wilson hollered, coming into the kitchen. “How are you two on this fine and dandy morning?”
“I’m well, Mrs. Wilson,” I smiled. “What about you? Is there anything I can do to help around here?”
“Don’t worry about doing nothing, Kristy,” Mrs. Wilson said, rubbing my shoulders. “We’re all family here, so eventually I’ll use you for somethin’. And call me Emilia, or Em, please.”
“I’m sure there’s something I can do around here,” I said, eager to help. If this woman was going to risk her life to save me, the least I could do was some household chores. “The dishes maybe?”
“Maybe, Kristy,” Emilia laughed. “Maybe.”
Good? Commentos? Have fun!
Ciao, Darling gals :P
Asiat.
Friday, August 21, 2009
*_* Star struck and gunshots
VIOLA!!!!!
“There a reason you don’t want me to meet ‘Mercy’?” I asked.
“Andy Mercy is a rookie, Ms. Clare,” Jack said, looking forward. “He wouldn’t know the first thing about protecting anybody.”
“Ain’t you a nice fella,” I said sarcastically.
“Ain’t I, though?” he laughed. “Where do you two live?”
“Just down the street,” I said, leading the way with Allan. I got to the dark apartment building and took out my key. “This is it,” I said. “Home sweet home.” I lead him up the stairs, opened the door, and turned on the lights.
“Get down!” Jack roared, shoving Allan and me down on the floor. I heard gunshots and then more as Jack returned fire.
Suddenly there was silence.
“Is everyone okay?” Jack asked, his voice breaking unevenly.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “Allan?”
“Here, mum,” I heard him call. I sighed deeply.
“Thank God,” I whispered. Tears came into my eyes. “Oh thank God.” Allan crawled into my arms in an array of glass.
“Thank God, mum,” he said innocently. “He always protects us.”
“He has a pretty good idea of protection,” Jack said sarcastically.
“Excuse me,” I said. “A little less negativity.”
“Sorry,” Jack said. I could tell he didn’t mean it.
“C’mon, Allan, let’s get you to bed,” I said, taking his hand.
“Ms. Clare, there’s no way you’re staying here tonight,” Jack said seriously. “I’m calling Chief.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“Allan, let’s go get packed,” I said. Allan and I walked to the dresser and began packing our few possessions into suitcases. I helped Allan into his pajamas. I picked him up and he fell asleep with his head on my shoulder.
Jack hung the telephone up and turned to me.
“Chief says we have to find you somewhere else to stay,” Jack said.
“I have a feeling you know where,” I said, shifting Allan’s weight.
“Yeah,” he said, picking up our bags. “Mercy’s got a car waiting.” We snuck downstairs and jumped into the back seat of Mercy’s car. Mercy turned from the driver’s seat.
“Hey there, I’m Andy Mercy,” he said. “Just call me Andy.”
“I’m Kristy Clare, Andy,” I replied, quickly shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pedal to the metal, Mercy,” Jack said roughly. “We’re not being followed just yet.”
“Yes, sir,” Andy said. Allan woke up half way through the journey, but I lulled him back to sleep.
“Mum?” Jack asked, walking into the big house. He lived in the middle of the country, too; or at least his mum did. “Mum?” he called again.
“I’m coming,” she said. She came out of the kitchen in a bathrobe. “Chief called earlier to explain the situation. Hey there, Andy! And you must be Ms. Clare!”
“Just Kristy,” I said quietly. “This is Allan.”
“I’m Emilia Wilson. He’s adorable,” she smiled. “I’ll take you to your rooms.” She took us to a small child’s room. “Here’s where Allan’ll sleep.”
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry, but do you mind if Allan sleeps with me? I’d feel safer if he did for now,” I said. I wasn’t all that willing to let him go when there were killers after us.
“Oh, sure. Less sheets to wash,” she said. She lead us to another big room. “Here you go. G’night, Ms. Clare.”
“Kristy, please,” I smiled.
“Good night, Kristy,” she replied. “Sleep well, both of you."
----------------------------------------------------<3
<3>
“There a reason you don’t want me to meet ‘Mercy’?” I asked.
“Andy Mercy is a rookie, Ms. Clare,” Jack said, looking forward. “He wouldn’t know the first thing about protecting anybody.”
“Ain’t you a nice fella,” I said sarcastically.
“Ain’t I, though?” he laughed. “Where do you two live?”
“Just down the street,” I said, leading the way with Allan. I got to the dark apartment building and took out my key. “This is it,” I said. “Home sweet home.” I lead him up the stairs, opened the door, and turned on the lights.
“Get down!” Jack roared, shoving Allan and me down on the floor. I heard gunshots and then more as Jack returned fire.
Suddenly there was silence.
“Is everyone okay?” Jack asked, his voice breaking unevenly.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “Allan?”
“Here, mum,” I heard him call. I sighed deeply.
“Thank God,” I whispered. Tears came into my eyes. “Oh thank God.” Allan crawled into my arms in an array of glass.
“Thank God, mum,” he said innocently. “He always protects us.”
“He has a pretty good idea of protection,” Jack said sarcastically.
“Excuse me,” I said. “A little less negativity.”
“Sorry,” Jack said. I could tell he didn’t mean it.
“C’mon, Allan, let’s get you to bed,” I said, taking his hand.
“Ms. Clare, there’s no way you’re staying here tonight,” Jack said seriously. “I’m calling Chief.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“Allan, let’s go get packed,” I said. Allan and I walked to the dresser and began packing our few possessions into suitcases. I helped Allan into his pajamas. I picked him up and he fell asleep with his head on my shoulder.
Jack hung the telephone up and turned to me.
“Chief says we have to find you somewhere else to stay,” Jack said.
“I have a feeling you know where,” I said, shifting Allan’s weight.
“Yeah,” he said, picking up our bags. “Mercy’s got a car waiting.” We snuck downstairs and jumped into the back seat of Mercy’s car. Mercy turned from the driver’s seat.
“Hey there, I’m Andy Mercy,” he said. “Just call me Andy.”
“I’m Kristy Clare, Andy,” I replied, quickly shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Pedal to the metal, Mercy,” Jack said roughly. “We’re not being followed just yet.”
“Yes, sir,” Andy said. Allan woke up half way through the journey, but I lulled him back to sleep.
“Mum?” Jack asked, walking into the big house. He lived in the middle of the country, too; or at least his mum did. “Mum?” he called again.
“I’m coming,” she said. She came out of the kitchen in a bathrobe. “Chief called earlier to explain the situation. Hey there, Andy! And you must be Ms. Clare!”
“Just Kristy,” I said quietly. “This is Allan.”
“I’m Emilia Wilson. He’s adorable,” she smiled. “I’ll take you to your rooms.” She took us to a small child’s room. “Here’s where Allan’ll sleep.”
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry, but do you mind if Allan sleeps with me? I’d feel safer if he did for now,” I said. I wasn’t all that willing to let him go when there were killers after us.
“Oh, sure. Less sheets to wash,” she said. She lead us to another big room. “Here you go. G’night, Ms. Clare.”
“Kristy, please,” I smiled.
“Good night, Kristy,” she replied. “Sleep well, both of you."
----------------------------------------------------<3
<3>
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
>_< Impatience
Allan and I took the bus back to Alice’s house. The police swamped Alice’s porch, house, and yard. But they also created a block around a car, which left soon after we came.
“Hello, Ms. Clare,” a uniformed officer said, putting his hand out. “I’m Chief Cratt. We found the guy who did this to Mrs. Brown, he’s in custody. The only problem is that we need someone to testify that he was there.”
“I’ll testify,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Don’t ask me again, sir,” I touched his shoulder. “If I said I’d do it, I’ll do it.”
“You’ll need protection,” he said.
“I’ll take whatever protection precautions you deem necessary,” I said.
“Okay, you wait over there and I’ll send an officer over,” he said pointing. “You’re aware that you’ll be having an officer in your house from this day till a month after you testify.”
“I have a couch,” I laughed. “Chief, don’t worry about it.”
I watched the Chief walk to various officers and whisper in their ears. Each of them shook their head or just said no. Finally, one of them shrugged his shoulders and started walking over to me.
“Hello, Ms. Clare,” the man said, looking at me with genteel grey eyes. “I’m the policeman who will be protecting you while you’re testifying.”
“I don’t need protecting, Detective,” I said stubbornly. “My son does, but I don’t.”
“Well, then I’m protecting him,” he said, shrugging his shoulders again. “By the way, I’m Detective Jack Stork, Ms. Clare.”
“Kristy Clare,” I said, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Detective. My son’s over there – his name’s Allan; adores policemen, firemen, any kind of public service man, really. You’ll be getting a lot of attention from him, Detective Stork.”
“It will be a pleasure to find someone who like us law enforcement,” Detective Jack said, smiling at me. “And you don’t have to call me Detective Stork. Just call me Jack.” He wasn’t exactly handsome, but he had a nice face; pretty grey eyes; a pretty bashed up nose and all the regular features a young cop seem to have. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t a stick either. Seemed like he just had a muscle build.
“Okay then, Jack,” I said. I watched him go over to Allan. He seemed really familiar.
“Hello, sir,” Allan said, looking quite sad.
“Hey there,” Jack replied. “I’m Detective Stork – you can call me Jack though.”
“Does anyone else call you Jack?” Allan asked, only half-curious.
“Naw, not really,” he said. “But you can be a first. What’s your name?”
“Name’s Allan Joshua Clare,” Allan said.
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Allan Joshua Clare,” Jack said, shaking hands with my son. “I’m the policeman protecting you and your mom.”
“Oh,” Allan said. There was a silence and for a second I didn’t want them to talk.
“You know, Allan,” Jack said, taking a sigh and leaning on Alice’s porch steps. “You know, I grew up in the slums. I was dumped in St. Mary’s orphanage.”
“Really?” Allan said. He wasn’t interested at he normally was, but he was listening.
“Yeah, I got adopted by these two old people. They raised me and loved me,” he explained. “My adopted dad was a cop, so I always wanted to be one too.”
“Uh huh,” Allan said. “Mum grew up in St. Mary’s orphanage, Jack.”
“Oh really?” he said looking at me. I don’t know why, but I blushed.
“Yeah, really; thought you were familiar,” I replied. “Allan, you ready to go home?”
“Yeah, mum,” he said. We both stood up, preparing ourselves for a tedious trek home. We grabbed each other’s hands and started out of Alice’s alley way.
“Excuse me, Ms. Clare? You too, Jack,” the police chief said. Jack and I came to stand by the chief. “Ms. Clare, you know you are a witness that needs protecting. And Jack here is the guy protectin’ you right?”
“Right, chief, but my son’s the one who needs protecting, not me,” I said.
“Why’s that?” Chief asked.
“They’ll use my son to get to me, Chief. They won’t touch me,” I said quietly.
“I hope you’ve gotta couch in your living room, because Jack’s not going anywhere till you and your son are safe, Ms. Clare,” he said.
“Now wait a second, Chief,” Jack said. “I don’t want to intrude on Ms. Clare and I don’t have so much as a toothbrush packed!”
“Ms. Clare?” the Chief asked. “It’s up to you, but you need protecting.”
“It’s alright with me; I have toothbrushes at my house,” I said. There wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it now. I had to stay alive to raise Allan. “But if Jack here needs to get his stuff, then I guess you could send another officer with us.”
“Naw,” Jack said. “I’ll give Mercy the key and tell him what to get and where to get it in my apartment, Chief.”
“Okay, it’s settled then,” Chief said. “Bye, Ms. Clare, Allan, Jack.”
“Bye, Chief,” Allan said. Jack and I nodded.
NOW I bet that none of you whooped when the genteel officer with grey eyes came unto this virtual page. :(
<3>
“Hello, Ms. Clare,” a uniformed officer said, putting his hand out. “I’m Chief Cratt. We found the guy who did this to Mrs. Brown, he’s in custody. The only problem is that we need someone to testify that he was there.”
“I’ll testify,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Don’t ask me again, sir,” I touched his shoulder. “If I said I’d do it, I’ll do it.”
“You’ll need protection,” he said.
“I’ll take whatever protection precautions you deem necessary,” I said.
“Okay, you wait over there and I’ll send an officer over,” he said pointing. “You’re aware that you’ll be having an officer in your house from this day till a month after you testify.”
“I have a couch,” I laughed. “Chief, don’t worry about it.”
I watched the Chief walk to various officers and whisper in their ears. Each of them shook their head or just said no. Finally, one of them shrugged his shoulders and started walking over to me.
“Hello, Ms. Clare,” the man said, looking at me with genteel grey eyes. “I’m the policeman who will be protecting you while you’re testifying.”
“I don’t need protecting, Detective,” I said stubbornly. “My son does, but I don’t.”
“Well, then I’m protecting him,” he said, shrugging his shoulders again. “By the way, I’m Detective Jack Stork, Ms. Clare.”
“Kristy Clare,” I said, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Detective. My son’s over there – his name’s Allan; adores policemen, firemen, any kind of public service man, really. You’ll be getting a lot of attention from him, Detective Stork.”
“It will be a pleasure to find someone who like us law enforcement,” Detective Jack said, smiling at me. “And you don’t have to call me Detective Stork. Just call me Jack.” He wasn’t exactly handsome, but he had a nice face; pretty grey eyes; a pretty bashed up nose and all the regular features a young cop seem to have. He wasn’t fat, but he wasn’t a stick either. Seemed like he just had a muscle build.
“Okay then, Jack,” I said. I watched him go over to Allan. He seemed really familiar.
“Hello, sir,” Allan said, looking quite sad.
“Hey there,” Jack replied. “I’m Detective Stork – you can call me Jack though.”
“Does anyone else call you Jack?” Allan asked, only half-curious.
“Naw, not really,” he said. “But you can be a first. What’s your name?”
“Name’s Allan Joshua Clare,” Allan said.
“Well it’s nice to meet you, Allan Joshua Clare,” Jack said, shaking hands with my son. “I’m the policeman protecting you and your mom.”
“Oh,” Allan said. There was a silence and for a second I didn’t want them to talk.
“You know, Allan,” Jack said, taking a sigh and leaning on Alice’s porch steps. “You know, I grew up in the slums. I was dumped in St. Mary’s orphanage.”
“Really?” Allan said. He wasn’t interested at he normally was, but he was listening.
“Yeah, I got adopted by these two old people. They raised me and loved me,” he explained. “My adopted dad was a cop, so I always wanted to be one too.”
“Uh huh,” Allan said. “Mum grew up in St. Mary’s orphanage, Jack.”
“Oh really?” he said looking at me. I don’t know why, but I blushed.
“Yeah, really; thought you were familiar,” I replied. “Allan, you ready to go home?”
“Yeah, mum,” he said. We both stood up, preparing ourselves for a tedious trek home. We grabbed each other’s hands and started out of Alice’s alley way.
“Excuse me, Ms. Clare? You too, Jack,” the police chief said. Jack and I came to stand by the chief. “Ms. Clare, you know you are a witness that needs protecting. And Jack here is the guy protectin’ you right?”
“Right, chief, but my son’s the one who needs protecting, not me,” I said.
“Why’s that?” Chief asked.
“They’ll use my son to get to me, Chief. They won’t touch me,” I said quietly.
“I hope you’ve gotta couch in your living room, because Jack’s not going anywhere till you and your son are safe, Ms. Clare,” he said.
“Now wait a second, Chief,” Jack said. “I don’t want to intrude on Ms. Clare and I don’t have so much as a toothbrush packed!”
“Ms. Clare?” the Chief asked. “It’s up to you, but you need protecting.”
“It’s alright with me; I have toothbrushes at my house,” I said. There wasn’t a whole lot I could do about it now. I had to stay alive to raise Allan. “But if Jack here needs to get his stuff, then I guess you could send another officer with us.”
“Naw,” Jack said. “I’ll give Mercy the key and tell him what to get and where to get it in my apartment, Chief.”
“Okay, it’s settled then,” Chief said. “Bye, Ms. Clare, Allan, Jack.”
“Bye, Chief,” Allan said. Jack and I nodded.
NOW I bet that none of you whooped when the genteel officer with grey eyes came unto this virtual page. :(
<3>
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
More of Kristy's Story (PLEASE i need name help!)
After Alice has settled Allan in the kitchen with some cookies, she brought some cookies and coffee out for us on the porch. Alice put a plate down on the table and sat down next to me in her rocker.
“Look, I just got…,” she said, handing me a camera.
“Excuse me, miss,” a hobo said to Alice. “D’ya have a moment? I’d be much obliged.”
“Sure,” Alice said, wiping her hands on her apron and standing up.
“Alice…,” I said.
“No, it’s alright, Kristy,” Alice said. “I live to help the people.” She winked. “C’mon after him if I don’t come back.”
I waited… and waited… and waited… and, when I finally had enough, I got up and went into the back alley. Alice was laying there on her back. And there was this guy, with a long white scar on his neck, running backwards.
“Alice, Alice, stay with me,” I said, gently patting her hand. “C’mon, Alice.”
“What?” she asked groggily. “Kristy, what happened?”
“I don’t know, Alice, give me a minute,” I said. “Allan?” I called. “Allan!”
“Yeah, I mean yes, mum,” Allan responded from the porch. “What’cha need?”
“Okay, Allan, I need you to go call on Doctor Farrow,” I said. “Alice’s hurt. I need you to go. Tell him to bring tons of bandages – and that we might need to go to the hospital.”
“Okay, mum,” Allan said.
“Run, Allan, run!” I yelled.
“Okay, mum,” he repeated. I heard his footsteps along the street and prayed that he would get there and back safely.
“Kristy?” Doctor Farrow called. I sighed. He had delivered Allan – and was Allan’s uncle, whether he knew it or not – I trusted him a lot. “Kristy, what happened? Where’s Alice?” He saw Alice on the floor next to me. “Oh, God. I can’t treat this, we need to take her to the hospital. Help me carry her, will you, Kristy?”
“Allan, sit in front and wait for us,” I said, while lifting Alice up and maneuvering her into Doctor Farrow’s car.
“She’s been stabbed at least twice,” he said, closing the door. “I don’t know if she’ll make it.” The car’s engine turned over and then called itself to life. Doctor Farrow sped through the streets to the hospital. He ran into the hospital and came out with a team of doctors and nurses who took Alice away.
“Wait, what’s happening?” I asked. “What’s happening? Please tell me!” I begged the nurses. No answer. Doctor Farrow finally came out of one of the sections of the hospital labeled no entrance, doctors only.
“Dr. Farrow,” I said, standing in his way. “Tell me what’s up with Alice.”
“I don’t know, Kristy, I don’t know,” he replied running a hand through his grey hair. “It doesn’t look good, but the doctors are trying to pull Ms. Brown back together again. In the meantime, why don’t you go back to the house, the police have to ask you some questions.”
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Okay…”
----------------------------------------------------
commentos, darlings!
Asiat
“Look, I just got…,” she said, handing me a camera.
“Excuse me, miss,” a hobo said to Alice. “D’ya have a moment? I’d be much obliged.”
“Sure,” Alice said, wiping her hands on her apron and standing up.
“Alice…,” I said.
“No, it’s alright, Kristy,” Alice said. “I live to help the people.” She winked. “C’mon after him if I don’t come back.”
I waited… and waited… and waited… and, when I finally had enough, I got up and went into the back alley. Alice was laying there on her back. And there was this guy, with a long white scar on his neck, running backwards.
“Alice, Alice, stay with me,” I said, gently patting her hand. “C’mon, Alice.”
“What?” she asked groggily. “Kristy, what happened?”
“I don’t know, Alice, give me a minute,” I said. “Allan?” I called. “Allan!”
“Yeah, I mean yes, mum,” Allan responded from the porch. “What’cha need?”
“Okay, Allan, I need you to go call on Doctor Farrow,” I said. “Alice’s hurt. I need you to go. Tell him to bring tons of bandages – and that we might need to go to the hospital.”
“Okay, mum,” Allan said.
“Run, Allan, run!” I yelled.
“Okay, mum,” he repeated. I heard his footsteps along the street and prayed that he would get there and back safely.
“Kristy?” Doctor Farrow called. I sighed. He had delivered Allan – and was Allan’s uncle, whether he knew it or not – I trusted him a lot. “Kristy, what happened? Where’s Alice?” He saw Alice on the floor next to me. “Oh, God. I can’t treat this, we need to take her to the hospital. Help me carry her, will you, Kristy?”
“Allan, sit in front and wait for us,” I said, while lifting Alice up and maneuvering her into Doctor Farrow’s car.
“She’s been stabbed at least twice,” he said, closing the door. “I don’t know if she’ll make it.” The car’s engine turned over and then called itself to life. Doctor Farrow sped through the streets to the hospital. He ran into the hospital and came out with a team of doctors and nurses who took Alice away.
“Wait, what’s happening?” I asked. “What’s happening? Please tell me!” I begged the nurses. No answer. Doctor Farrow finally came out of one of the sections of the hospital labeled no entrance, doctors only.
“Dr. Farrow,” I said, standing in his way. “Tell me what’s up with Alice.”
“I don’t know, Kristy, I don’t know,” he replied running a hand through his grey hair. “It doesn’t look good, but the doctors are trying to pull Ms. Brown back together again. In the meantime, why don’t you go back to the house, the police have to ask you some questions.”
“Okay,” I said quietly. “Okay…”
----------------------------------------------------
commentos, darlings!
Asiat
Monday, August 3, 2009
Post On Men (and other thoughts)
okay, so maybe not completely about men. But, truly, what makes Mr. Darcy so much more alluring than some hen-pecked idiot? (other than the whole hen-pecked idiot, I suppose) My hen-pecked idiot example: Detective Jack Stork (from Kristy's Story [prohibition])
Fitzwilliam Darcy *pros*
1. Handsome
2. Arrogant?
3. Willingness to admit faults (when not too arrogant)
4. He's in a classic novel known as one of the greatest romance novels of all time.
Jack Stork *pros*
1. Handsome with not too many imperfections
2. Hen-pecked-ness
3. Humbleness with a touch of old-fashioned dignity
4. He loves his mum (and where's cool spats)
Darcy *cons*
1. Arrogance
2. He's like two hundred years old
3. We know his every fault and mishap
4. He's English (Yes, that's not always a good thing)
Stork *cons*
1. He's not THAT handsome
2. His love for his mun makes him a moma's-boy
3. He's a cop - which puts him in dangerous situations
4. He lives in a time period where alcohol isn't permitted (which is SO terrible)
Any more? COMMENTO
(AND NO, it's wasn't a collaborative effort, the last blog post. B and Antony kind of appeared whilst my publishing it, so I added them into the big ole' cauldron)
I'd rather do a job I liked and not be good at it than do a job I hated well. - Unkown
Asiat
PS: Vortican, when are we jumping ship for the Ren Fest? ECPM want's to come!
Fitzwilliam Darcy *pros*
1. Handsome
2. Arrogant?
3. Willingness to admit faults (when not too arrogant)
4. He's in a classic novel known as one of the greatest romance novels of all time.
Jack Stork *pros*
1. Handsome with not too many imperfections
2. Hen-pecked-ness
3. Humbleness with a touch of old-fashioned dignity
4. He loves his mum (and where's cool spats)
Darcy *cons*
1. Arrogance
2. He's like two hundred years old
3. We know his every fault and mishap
4. He's English (Yes, that's not always a good thing)
Stork *cons*
1. He's not THAT handsome
2. His love for his mun makes him a moma's-boy
3. He's a cop - which puts him in dangerous situations
4. He lives in a time period where alcohol isn't permitted (which is SO terrible)
Any more? COMMENTO
(AND NO, it's wasn't a collaborative effort, the last blog post. B and Antony kind of appeared whilst my publishing it, so I added them into the big ole' cauldron)
I'd rather do a job I liked and not be good at it than do a job I hated well. - Unkown
Asiat
PS: Vortican, when are we jumping ship for the Ren Fest? ECPM want's to come!
Saturday, August 1, 2009
lol. (she's going to be killed for inconsistency)
Once upon a time, in the city of Pittsburgh, a writer got really sick of characters she knew through and through. So what did she do? She started a new book. So far, it's unnamed. Setting: the Prohibition...
----------------------------------------- <3
Allan put a warm, sticky hand in mine. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, climbing out of bed. He looked up at me and grinned, “Hallo, mum. We going to church?”
“No, not today, honey,” I said, brushing the blonde curls from his face. “Today’s Saturday. We’re going to go to Alice’s house for some tea, okay?”
“Okay!” Allan replied exuberantly, jumping up and down.
“Alright then,” I smiled. “First we’ve got to brush our teeth and get dressed…”
“And eat breakfast!” Allan added.
“And eat breakfast,” I agreed. Allan dragged me from the bed and started the morning process – brushing his teeth with my help and so on. I sat Allan down in one of the chairs of the kitchen table and he chattered to me about school.
“Mum,” he asked, “Why don’t you wear red today? You look so pretty in red. And some of the eye-stuff. Like you used to when I was little.”
I laughed, “You want me to wear makeup?”
“Yeah; I mean, yes,” he corrected himself. “I want you to look pretty!”
“Okay. First things first, though,” I said, putting a sunny-side-up egg and a piece of toast on a plate. “You eat; I’ll go get dolled up.” I put on pink lipstick and really light eyeliner and eye shadow. Alice always bought me makeup – she said a woman like me should still look pretty. When I came back into the room, Allan was finishing his egg and toast and putting his coat on.
“Let’s go, mum,” he said. “I wanna see Auntie Alice. She always has good food.” Alice wasn’t really his aunt. I work at her speak-easy. Alice took me in when I was pregnant with Allan; she was even his godmother. We all went to Saint Mary’s in the slums on Sunday’s like a real family. Just Alice, Allan, and me. It was nice.
New York City’s got nice slums, if you don’t look too hard – you just have to learn to appreciate what you got. I grew up here – in Saint Mary’s orphanage. My parents just up and left me, but now I’ve got Alice and Allan. The best and only family I’ll ever need. I work at Alice’s. It used to be a pub, only it isn’t because of the Prohibition. So Alice serves coffee in the mornings and the stuff with alcohol in it after ten at night. I work at Alice’s when Alice takes the night off because then Alice will take care of Allan when I take care of the shop. It’s nice and the guys aren’t too bad either. I just let them have some alcohol to take the edge off. Some of them have really bad lives. I think the alcohol let’s them take away the pain of life sometimes.
Allan and I walked to Alice’s house holding hands. Allan hummed and sang as he walked right by the street. He was really happy.
“What’s making you so happy today, Allan?” I asked. He looked at me with his pretty grey eyes.
“Look, mum,” he said pointing to the sky. “God gave me a pretty day and you and Auntie Alice. Why shouldn’t I be happy?” I smiled at his beautiful child’s faith. “And I heard this really good song on the radio yesterday,” he added.
“Oh?” I asked. “Did you like that song?”
“Yeah; I mean yes,” he said. “I liked that song.”
“Okay then,” I said, as we walked up the alley way to Alice’s house. Alice’s speak-easy was a really dolled up place – she had flower boxes on the windows and all. She had the doors painted bright colors like she had nothing to hide. Her house was even more inviting. It was built into the back of the speak-easy with a wrap-around porch on two sides and on the first and second floor. It was white with green trimmings. The perfect example of a pretty country house – except that it was down in the slums. Alice was on the porch waiting for us. Allan ran into her arms.
“Well, hey there, Allan, Kristy,” she said, lifting Allan up. Allan giggled happily.
“Got food, Auntie Alice?” he asked.
“Allan, be polite,” I chided. “Besides, you just ate.”
“I’m still hungry,” he whined. I looked at Alice. She smiled.
“I’ve got cookies cooling off now…” she trailed off.
“Oh, alright,” I said, defeated. “Allan, please and thank you,” I reminded him.
“Okay, mum.”
--------------------------------------- <3
So how do her people like it, eh?
Love from Beezyk, Tony, and moi,
Asiat
----------------------------------------- <3
Allan put a warm, sticky hand in mine. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, climbing out of bed. He looked up at me and grinned, “Hallo, mum. We going to church?”
“No, not today, honey,” I said, brushing the blonde curls from his face. “Today’s Saturday. We’re going to go to Alice’s house for some tea, okay?”
“Okay!” Allan replied exuberantly, jumping up and down.
“Alright then,” I smiled. “First we’ve got to brush our teeth and get dressed…”
“And eat breakfast!” Allan added.
“And eat breakfast,” I agreed. Allan dragged me from the bed and started the morning process – brushing his teeth with my help and so on. I sat Allan down in one of the chairs of the kitchen table and he chattered to me about school.
“Mum,” he asked, “Why don’t you wear red today? You look so pretty in red. And some of the eye-stuff. Like you used to when I was little.”
I laughed, “You want me to wear makeup?”
“Yeah; I mean, yes,” he corrected himself. “I want you to look pretty!”
“Okay. First things first, though,” I said, putting a sunny-side-up egg and a piece of toast on a plate. “You eat; I’ll go get dolled up.” I put on pink lipstick and really light eyeliner and eye shadow. Alice always bought me makeup – she said a woman like me should still look pretty. When I came back into the room, Allan was finishing his egg and toast and putting his coat on.
“Let’s go, mum,” he said. “I wanna see Auntie Alice. She always has good food.” Alice wasn’t really his aunt. I work at her speak-easy. Alice took me in when I was pregnant with Allan; she was even his godmother. We all went to Saint Mary’s in the slums on Sunday’s like a real family. Just Alice, Allan, and me. It was nice.
New York City’s got nice slums, if you don’t look too hard – you just have to learn to appreciate what you got. I grew up here – in Saint Mary’s orphanage. My parents just up and left me, but now I’ve got Alice and Allan. The best and only family I’ll ever need. I work at Alice’s. It used to be a pub, only it isn’t because of the Prohibition. So Alice serves coffee in the mornings and the stuff with alcohol in it after ten at night. I work at Alice’s when Alice takes the night off because then Alice will take care of Allan when I take care of the shop. It’s nice and the guys aren’t too bad either. I just let them have some alcohol to take the edge off. Some of them have really bad lives. I think the alcohol let’s them take away the pain of life sometimes.
Allan and I walked to Alice’s house holding hands. Allan hummed and sang as he walked right by the street. He was really happy.
“What’s making you so happy today, Allan?” I asked. He looked at me with his pretty grey eyes.
“Look, mum,” he said pointing to the sky. “God gave me a pretty day and you and Auntie Alice. Why shouldn’t I be happy?” I smiled at his beautiful child’s faith. “And I heard this really good song on the radio yesterday,” he added.
“Oh?” I asked. “Did you like that song?”
“Yeah; I mean yes,” he said. “I liked that song.”
“Okay then,” I said, as we walked up the alley way to Alice’s house. Alice’s speak-easy was a really dolled up place – she had flower boxes on the windows and all. She had the doors painted bright colors like she had nothing to hide. Her house was even more inviting. It was built into the back of the speak-easy with a wrap-around porch on two sides and on the first and second floor. It was white with green trimmings. The perfect example of a pretty country house – except that it was down in the slums. Alice was on the porch waiting for us. Allan ran into her arms.
“Well, hey there, Allan, Kristy,” she said, lifting Allan up. Allan giggled happily.
“Got food, Auntie Alice?” he asked.
“Allan, be polite,” I chided. “Besides, you just ate.”
“I’m still hungry,” he whined. I looked at Alice. She smiled.
“I’ve got cookies cooling off now…” she trailed off.
“Oh, alright,” I said, defeated. “Allan, please and thank you,” I reminded him.
“Okay, mum.”
--------------------------------------- <3
So how do her people like it, eh?
Love from Beezyk, Tony, and moi,
Asiat
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Shouldn't be doing this - but am anyways :D
My Lizzie (back / summary)
James Vetour is many things: handsome, gentlemanly, and, above all, an eligible bachelor in eighteenth-century England. After three years in London, he returns to his family’s home in the country (Hetfordshire?). Upon his return, he finds his best friend, Miss Elizabeth (Eliza) Tedrow, engaged to be married and must quell his long-standing feelings for her as she enters wedlock with an abusive husband, Mr. Samuel Crowe. He decides that, against his better judgment and the order of Mr. Crowe, which he will remain in correspondence with Miss Eliza through a pseudonym – Miss Henrietta Vetour.
When at the engagement party for Miss Eliza, he meets the charming but not beautiful Annabelle (Belle) Cliffe. Drawn to his growing sense of familiarity and friendship to Annabelle, he begins feeling guilty about his quickly-changing feelings, from Miss Eliza to Miss Belle. And, after becoming attached to Miss Belle, he finds that she is to marry a stable hand, John, in Scotland on her way to America. Devastated, James finds that not only is his heart broken, but Miss Belle’s is about to be – for John is a conspirator in a scheme to kidnap Miss Belle for her fortune. Miss Belle is devastated and snaps at James in her pain and anger. James goes into seclusion from women; he is afraid that the next time he puts his heart on the line it will end as it always has for him. At Miss Eliza’s wedding, he meets yet another fascinating woman, Miss Amari Letta, the daughter of an Indian merchant and a very handsome and rich woman. He becomes good friends with Miss Letta and never feels feelings that go above that of a friend. While traveling with other rich young people, including Miss Letta, James stops at the estate of his good friend from school, William Browning. James meets William’s little sister, Miss Elizabeth (Lizzie) Browning. Bonding with her deeply for her passion and energy, he begins to love her more deeply than anyone he has ever known. But, to James’s disappointment, it is not to last, for he must return to care for the estate while his father lies on his deathbed. James finds that his only companionship through life is that of Miss Lizzie Browning – through long and entertaining letters. Upon the death of his father, James invites William and Miss Lizzie to stay at his estate for his father’s funeral. Unable to ignore his growing love for Lizzie, he admits he loves her – and she admits the same. Miss Penelope Tedrow, Eliza’s younger sister, sees this and does everything in her power to quench this match – for herself. Miss Penelope has always loved James fiercely and this reckless girl will not tear her from him. After almost flinging herself to her death, Penelope begins a cat-fight with Miss Lizzie. This brings the Tedrows and Crowes to a feud with James. And when Eliza is beaten so far as to kill her child, she turns to James for help. With Lizzie’s encouragement, James goes to duel with Mr. Crowe while she cares for Eliza. James kills Crowe with many injuries and is raised back to health by Lizzie. Penelope becomes a nun and Eliza a common widow. Eliza falls in love and marries William. Happily ever after.
All my love,
Asiat
James Vetour is many things: handsome, gentlemanly, and, above all, an eligible bachelor in eighteenth-century England. After three years in London, he returns to his family’s home in the country (Hetfordshire?). Upon his return, he finds his best friend, Miss Elizabeth (Eliza) Tedrow, engaged to be married and must quell his long-standing feelings for her as she enters wedlock with an abusive husband, Mr. Samuel Crowe. He decides that, against his better judgment and the order of Mr. Crowe, which he will remain in correspondence with Miss Eliza through a pseudonym – Miss Henrietta Vetour.
When at the engagement party for Miss Eliza, he meets the charming but not beautiful Annabelle (Belle) Cliffe. Drawn to his growing sense of familiarity and friendship to Annabelle, he begins feeling guilty about his quickly-changing feelings, from Miss Eliza to Miss Belle. And, after becoming attached to Miss Belle, he finds that she is to marry a stable hand, John, in Scotland on her way to America. Devastated, James finds that not only is his heart broken, but Miss Belle’s is about to be – for John is a conspirator in a scheme to kidnap Miss Belle for her fortune. Miss Belle is devastated and snaps at James in her pain and anger. James goes into seclusion from women; he is afraid that the next time he puts his heart on the line it will end as it always has for him. At Miss Eliza’s wedding, he meets yet another fascinating woman, Miss Amari Letta, the daughter of an Indian merchant and a very handsome and rich woman. He becomes good friends with Miss Letta and never feels feelings that go above that of a friend. While traveling with other rich young people, including Miss Letta, James stops at the estate of his good friend from school, William Browning. James meets William’s little sister, Miss Elizabeth (Lizzie) Browning. Bonding with her deeply for her passion and energy, he begins to love her more deeply than anyone he has ever known. But, to James’s disappointment, it is not to last, for he must return to care for the estate while his father lies on his deathbed. James finds that his only companionship through life is that of Miss Lizzie Browning – through long and entertaining letters. Upon the death of his father, James invites William and Miss Lizzie to stay at his estate for his father’s funeral. Unable to ignore his growing love for Lizzie, he admits he loves her – and she admits the same. Miss Penelope Tedrow, Eliza’s younger sister, sees this and does everything in her power to quench this match – for herself. Miss Penelope has always loved James fiercely and this reckless girl will not tear her from him. After almost flinging herself to her death, Penelope begins a cat-fight with Miss Lizzie. This brings the Tedrows and Crowes to a feud with James. And when Eliza is beaten so far as to kill her child, she turns to James for help. With Lizzie’s encouragement, James goes to duel with Mr. Crowe while she cares for Eliza. James kills Crowe with many injuries and is raised back to health by Lizzie. Penelope becomes a nun and Eliza a common widow. Eliza falls in love and marries William. Happily ever after.
All my love,
Asiat
Saturday, June 20, 2009
more my lizzie.
Okay, and YES, I happen to know how halarious the comment about the shrubbery is.
Chapter 1
My brain was in an anxious frenzy. After three years of study in London, I was returning home. My sweet, lovely country home. And everything was as it should be – I was returning home, Lizzie was getting married. As children, she had made us plan out the rest of our lives – and we had planned it thus. Lizzie would laugh at the irony of it all. I knew that she had wished to have a double wedding with me, but now that was not possible. Something deep inside the wells of my heart thrilled when I saw Willford Estate come into view. The pond with the gravel walk around it brought happy memories to mind. I leaped from the carriage and ran through the front doors – just to assure myself that nothing had changed. The glass chandelier still glittered elegantly and Lizzie was in the library browsing the books with my mother as my father read the newspaper.It had not changed here at all.
“Ahem,” the servant said, brushing past me. “Excuse me, Mr. Vetour, Mrs. Vetour, Ms. Tedrow – Mr. William Vetour has arrived,” the servant retreated to the kitchen as I burst through the doors.
“Ah, my dear, Will!” my mother exclaimed, kissing my cheek.
“Will, my boy,” Father said shaking my hand. There was an awkward silence. Father returned to his newspaper and Mother left in a flutter calling for servants.
“Well, Ms. Lizzie Tedrow,” I said, teasing. “Have you not noticed there is a new arrival at Willford?”
“Is there?” she asked, turning the page of her book. “I hadn’t noticed.” She looked at me as if she had never seen me. “Oh, William! There you are. Have you been in your father’s closet these past three years? Hmmm.” We both laughed.“Welcome home, Will,” she smiled delicately.
“Thank you, Lizzie,” I replied with a smile. “It’s good to be back.”
“Lizzie, dear,” Mother called, popping her head through the door, “Are you staying for supper?”
“No ma’am,” Lizzie replied. “In fact, I should be leaving now. Goodbye, Mr. Vetour, Mrs. Vetour, Will.”Lizzie left quickly. Mother returned to the room with a quick glance.
“William – why are you still here?” Mother cried. “It is hardly gentlemanly to not escort a lady home. Go, now, before the Tedrows think us horribly impolite!” I began walking backwards towards the door. “Oh,” she called, “And stay for supper if they ask!”
“Yes, Mother,” I replied.Lizzie was at the edge of the front gate.“Miss Tedrow!” I called. I caught up to her. “Lizzie.” I bowed.
“Will,” she replied, surprised. She curtsied.
“Mother refuses to let a lady walk home alone without lecturing me about it, so I may as well accompany said lady home. And she also added to stay for dinner if asked.” She laughed.
“It’s good to have you back, William,” Lizzie said, touching my shoulder. “You were sorely missed these last three years; especially by your mother.”
“Yes, indeed, Lizzie,” I replied. “So, when is the date set?”
“I have no idea,” Lizzie replied. “This marriage it not anything like I wanted it to be, Will. I thought it would be romantic and wonderful, but it is just an arrangement between my father and Mr. Swan. I had no deal in it. He barely even knows me. I’m scared, William.” She was almost at tears. “It was a silly childish notion – being in love was,” she sniffled.
“Oh, Lizzie,” I smiled, walking arm in arm now. “You’ll be alright. If he really disturbs you, I’m sure you could throw a fit and refuse to marry him.” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. We were approaching Enchorage Estate now. Lizzie smiled and slipped her arm out of mine. The sun was lowering on the horizon. Lizzie notified her parents that she had arrived safely home and we entered the parlor.
“Mr. Vetour!” Mrs. Tedrow exclaimed in her usual soothed elegant tones. She was the kind of mother who prided herself on personal elegance and social perfection, though her heart and mind were cold of all energy and warmth. “You have come such a long way. You must stay for dinner,” she said and began instructing the servants accordingly.
“Ma’am, if it is no trouble to you, I will remain,” I replied.“Of course you must stay, Penelope will be delighted to see you,” she smiled benevolently. I suppose she thought my marrying her second daughter, Penelope, would be a good match. Penelope, though a kind girl, is exactly that; she is only a girl. Mrs. Tedrow would hope that I would marry her for a promise in the property of Enchorage. I would not marry Penelope if I was paid a good price, nor if she were older, I might add. Penelope is a tad desperate. She believes, like her sister once did, that love and marriage are the same thing and that the sooner she is married, the sooner her life will be complete. She is altogether too loud, too annoying, and too young for me to stand. She is her mother’s favorite and has been spoilt by such favoritism. I hope that my children do not suffer from a mother like that.
“Oh, Mr. Vetour,” Penelope exclaimed. “What a wonderful thing it is to see you! I hear that London is a very socially wonderful place to be. Please tell us of it.” She said this all very fast, with her hands flailing about, that her glass of wine was nearly spilt.
“Calm yourself, Ms. Tedrow,” I scolded gently. “London’s fine qualities are over exaggerated a little much, but it is a grand and fine place to have taken my studies at. There is an agreeable higher society and the people there are fine in manners and fashion. It was a wonderful place to live and work and study at, but I am far happier to be home.”
“I should never be happy to remain here when there is London to see,” Penelope said indignantly. “You should take us, me and Lizzie, to London as a wedding gift,” she suggested.
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Tedrow said, scolding the child. “You are far too young to be traveling about and I will take you to London myself when the time comes to present you to higher society.” At this, the child could only pout.
I sipped my wine to keep from laughing. Lizzie looked at me, her eyes laughing. I could not see her face because it was hidden behind a handkerchief.
“I really must return to Willford,” I said, excusing myself from the parlor. “My father and I have business to catch up on.”
“And I am sure your mother wishes to clout you for leaving for so long a time,” Penelope said eagerly.
“I’m sure,” Lizzie interspersed teasing.
“Lizzie, please show Mr. Vetour to the door,” Mrs. Tedrow said quietly.
“Yes, Mother,” Lizzie replied.
Chapter 2
I seldom saw Lizzie or the Tedrows until their dinner celebrating the joining of Mr. Swan and Lizzie. Mrs. Tedrow was ecstatic over this news – even though it had been announced two months ago. Lizzie sent a note the day before:
Dear Will,I have a request and hope you do not have interference that would otherwise engage you. I would like you to come an hour or two before the engagement dinner, for my sake. What say you to a last enterprise of our good old times?
Lizzie
I checked with my parents so as to make sure I was not otherwise engaged and sent Lizzie a note telling her I would come as she wished. Lizzie was very nervous when I came and insisted that we go for a walk.
“Ah,” she sighed. “Now my mother cannot pester us with Penelope.”
“Yes, indeed,” I laughed. “I think I must announce that I shall marry any woman between the ages of seventeen and twenty, who has an admirable, silent character, with a witty personality that is revealed amongst close friends.” Lizzie laughed, for Penelope was only sixteen and none of those things.
“Oh, Will, that is a very descriptive want,” she chuckled. “I wish you luck, but you are looking for the perfect woman – and such women do not exist.”
“Well, thank you for your support, Lizzie,” I teased. “I would not marry a woman without flaws, however. You know I would not.”
“Indeed,” Lizzie said, looking towards the horizon. “Oh, Lord have mercy.”
“What is it, Lizzie?” I asked, squinting.
“Mr. Samuel Swan,” she breathed. “Would it be terribly rude of me to ask you to hide behind a piece of shrubbery?”
“It would,” I replied. “But, for the sake of your female nerves, I will obey.” I ducked behind a thick bush and held my breathe as Lizzie’s now-dreaded betrothed approached.
“A rather morose day, isn’t it, Elizabeth,” Mr. Swan commented. “Are you walking alone?” The man was rude enough not even to remove himself from his horse.
“It is a wonderful day, in my opinion, Samuel,” Lizzie replied. “I am alone.”
“You have a poor opinion then, Elizabeth,” Mr. Swan said sourly. “One should assume my betrothed would like fine sunny days, not depressing cloudy ones. You would be the perfect wife, would you not?”
“I will never be the perfect wife, Samuel,” Lizzie smiled, trying to remain polite.
“All wives must strive to be perfect,” Mr. Swan pronounced.
“Just because they strive does not mean they succeed,” Lizzie said playfully.
“I hope you do not cheek me so when we are married,” Mr. Swan nodded. “Do you have any friends coming to our engagement dinner?”
“Why, yes,” Lizzie said. “My good friend, Mr. William Vetour.”
“That scoundrel?” Mr. Swan gasped.
“Yes,” Lizzie blushed. “But he is a perfect gentleman.”
“I insist that he is not,” Mr. Swan said heatedly. “I say that, after our marriage, you sever contact with this Mr. Vetour. And, as my wife, you shall obey.”
“I suppose so,” Lizzie said quietly.
“You suppose so?” Mr. Swan repeated angrily. “Elizabeth, you must promise to never correspond with this man.”
“I – I promise…,” Lizzie said faintly.
“Good girl,” Swan said. I felt my skin boil. “You will walk for another hour or so and then return to get ready for the dinner, I suppose. You should look stunning.”
“Yes, Samuel.”
I hear the thundering of horses hooves and waited for Lizzie to approach me. When she did, she was weeping.
“Oh, Lizzie,” I said sympathetically. “You could still throw a fit, couldn’t you?”
“I don’t know if I would have the strength to, Will,” she sobbed. “But, never talk to you again? It’s a horrible notion.”
I thought swiftly, “But you will correspond and visit my cousin Ms. Willianna Vetour, to whom you became very close when you knew me, correct?”
“What are you saying, William?” she asked, her cheeks tear-stained.
“I am saying, Elizabeth, that if you go through with this marriage I will not abandon you,” I smiled softly. “I am saying that you will break your promise to Mr. Swan and write me letters and visit on the rare occasion. But it must be done in secret. I will tell my parents, my mother, at least, will approve.”
“Ever the gentleman,” Lizzie said, wiping away her tears. “Any woman would be lucky to marry you, Will.”
And, yes, once again, i KNOW that the shrubbery thing is funny. LOL.
Ciao, Bellas and ... guys...
Asiat
Chapter 1
My brain was in an anxious frenzy. After three years of study in London, I was returning home. My sweet, lovely country home. And everything was as it should be – I was returning home, Lizzie was getting married. As children, she had made us plan out the rest of our lives – and we had planned it thus. Lizzie would laugh at the irony of it all. I knew that she had wished to have a double wedding with me, but now that was not possible. Something deep inside the wells of my heart thrilled when I saw Willford Estate come into view. The pond with the gravel walk around it brought happy memories to mind. I leaped from the carriage and ran through the front doors – just to assure myself that nothing had changed. The glass chandelier still glittered elegantly and Lizzie was in the library browsing the books with my mother as my father read the newspaper.It had not changed here at all.
“Ahem,” the servant said, brushing past me. “Excuse me, Mr. Vetour, Mrs. Vetour, Ms. Tedrow – Mr. William Vetour has arrived,” the servant retreated to the kitchen as I burst through the doors.
“Ah, my dear, Will!” my mother exclaimed, kissing my cheek.
“Will, my boy,” Father said shaking my hand. There was an awkward silence. Father returned to his newspaper and Mother left in a flutter calling for servants.
“Well, Ms. Lizzie Tedrow,” I said, teasing. “Have you not noticed there is a new arrival at Willford?”
“Is there?” she asked, turning the page of her book. “I hadn’t noticed.” She looked at me as if she had never seen me. “Oh, William! There you are. Have you been in your father’s closet these past three years? Hmmm.” We both laughed.“Welcome home, Will,” she smiled delicately.
“Thank you, Lizzie,” I replied with a smile. “It’s good to be back.”
“Lizzie, dear,” Mother called, popping her head through the door, “Are you staying for supper?”
“No ma’am,” Lizzie replied. “In fact, I should be leaving now. Goodbye, Mr. Vetour, Mrs. Vetour, Will.”Lizzie left quickly. Mother returned to the room with a quick glance.
“William – why are you still here?” Mother cried. “It is hardly gentlemanly to not escort a lady home. Go, now, before the Tedrows think us horribly impolite!” I began walking backwards towards the door. “Oh,” she called, “And stay for supper if they ask!”
“Yes, Mother,” I replied.Lizzie was at the edge of the front gate.“Miss Tedrow!” I called. I caught up to her. “Lizzie.” I bowed.
“Will,” she replied, surprised. She curtsied.
“Mother refuses to let a lady walk home alone without lecturing me about it, so I may as well accompany said lady home. And she also added to stay for dinner if asked.” She laughed.
“It’s good to have you back, William,” Lizzie said, touching my shoulder. “You were sorely missed these last three years; especially by your mother.”
“Yes, indeed, Lizzie,” I replied. “So, when is the date set?”
“I have no idea,” Lizzie replied. “This marriage it not anything like I wanted it to be, Will. I thought it would be romantic and wonderful, but it is just an arrangement between my father and Mr. Swan. I had no deal in it. He barely even knows me. I’m scared, William.” She was almost at tears. “It was a silly childish notion – being in love was,” she sniffled.
“Oh, Lizzie,” I smiled, walking arm in arm now. “You’ll be alright. If he really disturbs you, I’m sure you could throw a fit and refuse to marry him.” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. We were approaching Enchorage Estate now. Lizzie smiled and slipped her arm out of mine. The sun was lowering on the horizon. Lizzie notified her parents that she had arrived safely home and we entered the parlor.
“Mr. Vetour!” Mrs. Tedrow exclaimed in her usual soothed elegant tones. She was the kind of mother who prided herself on personal elegance and social perfection, though her heart and mind were cold of all energy and warmth. “You have come such a long way. You must stay for dinner,” she said and began instructing the servants accordingly.
“Ma’am, if it is no trouble to you, I will remain,” I replied.“Of course you must stay, Penelope will be delighted to see you,” she smiled benevolently. I suppose she thought my marrying her second daughter, Penelope, would be a good match. Penelope, though a kind girl, is exactly that; she is only a girl. Mrs. Tedrow would hope that I would marry her for a promise in the property of Enchorage. I would not marry Penelope if I was paid a good price, nor if she were older, I might add. Penelope is a tad desperate. She believes, like her sister once did, that love and marriage are the same thing and that the sooner she is married, the sooner her life will be complete. She is altogether too loud, too annoying, and too young for me to stand. She is her mother’s favorite and has been spoilt by such favoritism. I hope that my children do not suffer from a mother like that.
“Oh, Mr. Vetour,” Penelope exclaimed. “What a wonderful thing it is to see you! I hear that London is a very socially wonderful place to be. Please tell us of it.” She said this all very fast, with her hands flailing about, that her glass of wine was nearly spilt.
“Calm yourself, Ms. Tedrow,” I scolded gently. “London’s fine qualities are over exaggerated a little much, but it is a grand and fine place to have taken my studies at. There is an agreeable higher society and the people there are fine in manners and fashion. It was a wonderful place to live and work and study at, but I am far happier to be home.”
“I should never be happy to remain here when there is London to see,” Penelope said indignantly. “You should take us, me and Lizzie, to London as a wedding gift,” she suggested.
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Tedrow said, scolding the child. “You are far too young to be traveling about and I will take you to London myself when the time comes to present you to higher society.” At this, the child could only pout.
I sipped my wine to keep from laughing. Lizzie looked at me, her eyes laughing. I could not see her face because it was hidden behind a handkerchief.
“I really must return to Willford,” I said, excusing myself from the parlor. “My father and I have business to catch up on.”
“And I am sure your mother wishes to clout you for leaving for so long a time,” Penelope said eagerly.
“I’m sure,” Lizzie interspersed teasing.
“Lizzie, please show Mr. Vetour to the door,” Mrs. Tedrow said quietly.
“Yes, Mother,” Lizzie replied.
Chapter 2
I seldom saw Lizzie or the Tedrows until their dinner celebrating the joining of Mr. Swan and Lizzie. Mrs. Tedrow was ecstatic over this news – even though it had been announced two months ago. Lizzie sent a note the day before:
Dear Will,I have a request and hope you do not have interference that would otherwise engage you. I would like you to come an hour or two before the engagement dinner, for my sake. What say you to a last enterprise of our good old times?
Lizzie
I checked with my parents so as to make sure I was not otherwise engaged and sent Lizzie a note telling her I would come as she wished. Lizzie was very nervous when I came and insisted that we go for a walk.
“Ah,” she sighed. “Now my mother cannot pester us with Penelope.”
“Yes, indeed,” I laughed. “I think I must announce that I shall marry any woman between the ages of seventeen and twenty, who has an admirable, silent character, with a witty personality that is revealed amongst close friends.” Lizzie laughed, for Penelope was only sixteen and none of those things.
“Oh, Will, that is a very descriptive want,” she chuckled. “I wish you luck, but you are looking for the perfect woman – and such women do not exist.”
“Well, thank you for your support, Lizzie,” I teased. “I would not marry a woman without flaws, however. You know I would not.”
“Indeed,” Lizzie said, looking towards the horizon. “Oh, Lord have mercy.”
“What is it, Lizzie?” I asked, squinting.
“Mr. Samuel Swan,” she breathed. “Would it be terribly rude of me to ask you to hide behind a piece of shrubbery?”
“It would,” I replied. “But, for the sake of your female nerves, I will obey.” I ducked behind a thick bush and held my breathe as Lizzie’s now-dreaded betrothed approached.
“A rather morose day, isn’t it, Elizabeth,” Mr. Swan commented. “Are you walking alone?” The man was rude enough not even to remove himself from his horse.
“It is a wonderful day, in my opinion, Samuel,” Lizzie replied. “I am alone.”
“You have a poor opinion then, Elizabeth,” Mr. Swan said sourly. “One should assume my betrothed would like fine sunny days, not depressing cloudy ones. You would be the perfect wife, would you not?”
“I will never be the perfect wife, Samuel,” Lizzie smiled, trying to remain polite.
“All wives must strive to be perfect,” Mr. Swan pronounced.
“Just because they strive does not mean they succeed,” Lizzie said playfully.
“I hope you do not cheek me so when we are married,” Mr. Swan nodded. “Do you have any friends coming to our engagement dinner?”
“Why, yes,” Lizzie said. “My good friend, Mr. William Vetour.”
“That scoundrel?” Mr. Swan gasped.
“Yes,” Lizzie blushed. “But he is a perfect gentleman.”
“I insist that he is not,” Mr. Swan said heatedly. “I say that, after our marriage, you sever contact with this Mr. Vetour. And, as my wife, you shall obey.”
“I suppose so,” Lizzie said quietly.
“You suppose so?” Mr. Swan repeated angrily. “Elizabeth, you must promise to never correspond with this man.”
“I – I promise…,” Lizzie said faintly.
“Good girl,” Swan said. I felt my skin boil. “You will walk for another hour or so and then return to get ready for the dinner, I suppose. You should look stunning.”
“Yes, Samuel.”
I hear the thundering of horses hooves and waited for Lizzie to approach me. When she did, she was weeping.
“Oh, Lizzie,” I said sympathetically. “You could still throw a fit, couldn’t you?”
“I don’t know if I would have the strength to, Will,” she sobbed. “But, never talk to you again? It’s a horrible notion.”
I thought swiftly, “But you will correspond and visit my cousin Ms. Willianna Vetour, to whom you became very close when you knew me, correct?”
“What are you saying, William?” she asked, her cheeks tear-stained.
“I am saying, Elizabeth, that if you go through with this marriage I will not abandon you,” I smiled softly. “I am saying that you will break your promise to Mr. Swan and write me letters and visit on the rare occasion. But it must be done in secret. I will tell my parents, my mother, at least, will approve.”
“Ever the gentleman,” Lizzie said, wiping away her tears. “Any woman would be lucky to marry you, Will.”
And, yes, once again, i KNOW that the shrubbery thing is funny. LOL.
Ciao, Bellas and ... guys...
Asiat
Saturday, June 13, 2009
hello kittens :D
not. so, if ya want kudos from moi, then read the post before it and u'll be informed.
The Greensborough Lodge, New York
Things had changed a lot since Adam left. Tonia tried to pretend that she didn’t miss him, but I knew she did. Adyin was being wonderful to both of us – since we were still on probation. He kept us in the loop and gave us tiny little things to research for his bigger cases. He took us for a “Girls’ Night Out” every Friday. He and Tonia had become really good friends – which was something I saw as kind of strange, and I tried not to get jealous.
In the meantime, I still kept in touch with Adam, who was now working on probation in Cairo, Egypt. He sent me letters about the hot, dry climate and his strange case – which caught even my attention. Capturing the media attention was a mass-murdering spree, but the media didn’t know that their murderer was a well-known, crazed sphinx called Cleopatra. She was the creature Cleopatra, the queen, was named after. I was still incredulous about the actual existence of sphinxes because we had disproved their existence for over forty years. It was hard to think that searching was in vain.
It was a warm Sunday in May, after church – which was part of preparation for our baptism, when I received a call from my cousin Felix, who was currently acting as Adam’s Guardian.
“Tess,” he said, “Please, I don’t know what to do – Adam’s gone missing.”
“What? Slow down, Felix,” I soothed. “What do you mean Adam’s gone missing?”
“On Friday night, Adam went out to do some research,” Felix explained more thoroughly. “He never came back and he’s not answering his phone. The thing is, I was looking through Adam’s research and he highlighted two points. One, the sphinx took the people for the day before killing them – and if the sphinx took Adam, then he’s already dead. And two, all of the victims were males of Greek descent – like Adam. I’m not sure what to do, I alerted the police and the Legend-Seeker Council, but…” he trailed off.
“You’re worried about him,” I finished. “I’ll see what I can do, Felix. I can’t promise much.”
“You sound like you’re not worried,” Felix said, I could hear the confusion in his voice.
“I am worried, believe me,” I said. “But I found out being hysterical doesn’t do any good.”
“Okay, then,” Felix sighed. “I’ll let you go.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Who was that?” Adyin asked, sitting on my couch with a cup of coffee and the newspaper.
“Felix,” I answered. “He says that Adam’s gone missing. I’m going to Edna to see if I can get anywhere.”
“Adam’s missing?” Adyin said surprised. “What happened?” I sat down and quickly explained the situation. Adyin got a call to the Legend-Seeker Council room and stood. Adyin kissed my cheek gently. “My superwoman,” he smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find Adam without even going to Cairo.”
“Yeah, well,” I sighed, “Adam’s parents aren’t going to care – they’re workaholics. Someone’s got to look out for him.”
“And that’s you?” Adyin said lifting and eyebrow. “Thought that was Tonia?”
“Tonia is on a career path,” I said. “Got a problem with that? I’m still your girlfriend, but you’re not my only friend.” I sensed the animosity towards Adam. Adyin sometimes got jealous too.
“No, I’ll be okay – just get jealous sometimes…” he explained.
“Hey,” I said lifting my hands in the air, “I get jealous all the time, don’t worry.”
“You do?” Adyin asked.
“Though you don’t seem to notice, most people still think Tonia’s pretty hot,” I smiled.
“I’m sorry,” he smiled. “I got to go, darling. I love you – no matter what.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “Go on – you have more important things to do than go all gaga over me. I love you too.” With one last wink, Adyin left me.
GUESS WHAT??? Well, it shouldn't be THAT hard. I finally decided where FoRM would end.
ciao, darlings,
Asiat
The Greensborough Lodge, New York
Things had changed a lot since Adam left. Tonia tried to pretend that she didn’t miss him, but I knew she did. Adyin was being wonderful to both of us – since we were still on probation. He kept us in the loop and gave us tiny little things to research for his bigger cases. He took us for a “Girls’ Night Out” every Friday. He and Tonia had become really good friends – which was something I saw as kind of strange, and I tried not to get jealous.
In the meantime, I still kept in touch with Adam, who was now working on probation in Cairo, Egypt. He sent me letters about the hot, dry climate and his strange case – which caught even my attention. Capturing the media attention was a mass-murdering spree, but the media didn’t know that their murderer was a well-known, crazed sphinx called Cleopatra. She was the creature Cleopatra, the queen, was named after. I was still incredulous about the actual existence of sphinxes because we had disproved their existence for over forty years. It was hard to think that searching was in vain.
It was a warm Sunday in May, after church – which was part of preparation for our baptism, when I received a call from my cousin Felix, who was currently acting as Adam’s Guardian.
“Tess,” he said, “Please, I don’t know what to do – Adam’s gone missing.”
“What? Slow down, Felix,” I soothed. “What do you mean Adam’s gone missing?”
“On Friday night, Adam went out to do some research,” Felix explained more thoroughly. “He never came back and he’s not answering his phone. The thing is, I was looking through Adam’s research and he highlighted two points. One, the sphinx took the people for the day before killing them – and if the sphinx took Adam, then he’s already dead. And two, all of the victims were males of Greek descent – like Adam. I’m not sure what to do, I alerted the police and the Legend-Seeker Council, but…” he trailed off.
“You’re worried about him,” I finished. “I’ll see what I can do, Felix. I can’t promise much.”
“You sound like you’re not worried,” Felix said, I could hear the confusion in his voice.
“I am worried, believe me,” I said. “But I found out being hysterical doesn’t do any good.”
“Okay, then,” Felix sighed. “I’ll let you go.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Who was that?” Adyin asked, sitting on my couch with a cup of coffee and the newspaper.
“Felix,” I answered. “He says that Adam’s gone missing. I’m going to Edna to see if I can get anywhere.”
“Adam’s missing?” Adyin said surprised. “What happened?” I sat down and quickly explained the situation. Adyin got a call to the Legend-Seeker Council room and stood. Adyin kissed my cheek gently. “My superwoman,” he smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find Adam without even going to Cairo.”
“Yeah, well,” I sighed, “Adam’s parents aren’t going to care – they’re workaholics. Someone’s got to look out for him.”
“And that’s you?” Adyin said lifting and eyebrow. “Thought that was Tonia?”
“Tonia is on a career path,” I said. “Got a problem with that? I’m still your girlfriend, but you’re not my only friend.” I sensed the animosity towards Adam. Adyin sometimes got jealous too.
“No, I’ll be okay – just get jealous sometimes…” he explained.
“Hey,” I said lifting my hands in the air, “I get jealous all the time, don’t worry.”
“You do?” Adyin asked.
“Though you don’t seem to notice, most people still think Tonia’s pretty hot,” I smiled.
“I’m sorry,” he smiled. “I got to go, darling. I love you – no matter what.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “Go on – you have more important things to do than go all gaga over me. I love you too.” With one last wink, Adyin left me.
GUESS WHAT??? Well, it shouldn't be THAT hard. I finally decided where FoRM would end.
ciao, darlings,
Asiat
Friday, June 12, 2009
L...O...L...Z!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, I know that I promised E.C.P.M that this next post would be SoED's debut, but, well, I lied. :P deal. Reason being that my laptop's connection is shoty at best. (is there a way to spell shoty???) No, this is a comment on Vortican's comments. I really should put my "dead" friend Will in the dedication. I can see it now... To Vortican - meet my dead friend Will. Yes, I laugh at my own typos.
Now, Vort. also said that you can tell that Will regrets that he didn't ask Lizzie to marry him, but at the time he doesn't even realize that he loves her (in that way.) Currently, he plays the part of the loyal bff. :P If any of you have ever read the Luxe then it's something like the relationship between Penelope and (i forgot his name!!!)
Don't worry, there are some correspondence dashed in there with the common letter. And, right before the wedding, Lizzie (because of Sam Swan) is forced to end her relationship with Will. She continues it in secrecy through her letters addressed to a Ms. Williana Vetour (aka - Mr. William Vetour!!! I am genius :D). Through this correspondence and visits to Ms. Williana, Will finds that Swan has beaten Lizzie so often as to kill there first child ;( THEN, when Will has had enough, he meets Lizzie on a dark rain soaked night they declare their love for each other and Will then goes off to duel Swan. And... if I told you the end of the story, I would seriously spoil EVERYTHING, so I won't. :P
SO I am awesome!
And Vortican, if your computer is proposing to you, I'd dump it - or give it your number (well, give it the number that goes to the rejection hotline. Imagine it calling you only to hear, "You have been rejected!")
Well, thus ends the blog post on... comments. I had a really good laugh with some of them (my dead friend!).
Live long an' prosper, homies!
Asiat
Now, Vort. also said that you can tell that Will regrets that he didn't ask Lizzie to marry him, but at the time he doesn't even realize that he loves her (in that way.) Currently, he plays the part of the loyal bff. :P If any of you have ever read the Luxe then it's something like the relationship between Penelope and (i forgot his name!!!)
Don't worry, there are some correspondence dashed in there with the common letter. And, right before the wedding, Lizzie (because of Sam Swan) is forced to end her relationship with Will. She continues it in secrecy through her letters addressed to a Ms. Williana Vetour (aka - Mr. William Vetour!!! I am genius :D). Through this correspondence and visits to Ms. Williana, Will finds that Swan has beaten Lizzie so often as to kill there first child ;( THEN, when Will has had enough, he meets Lizzie on a dark rain soaked night they declare their love for each other and Will then goes off to duel Swan. And... if I told you the end of the story, I would seriously spoil EVERYTHING, so I won't. :P
SO I am awesome!
And Vortican, if your computer is proposing to you, I'd dump it - or give it your number (well, give it the number that goes to the rejection hotline. Imagine it calling you only to hear, "You have been rejected!")
Well, thus ends the blog post on... comments. I had a really good laugh with some of them (my dead friend!).
Live long an' prosper, homies!
Asiat
Monday, June 8, 2009
SORRY!!!
I'm SORRY everyone! I haven't posted in ever for... many reasons. Main reason: I haven't written in, like, two weeks. LOLZ LOOK WHAT IT IS???
My Lizzie – Prologue
To my dead friend, Will,
Too long has it been since we have last traded letters. Your mother is pleased to inform me that rumor says you are to come home. She begs me to ask if you intend on doing so. With a teasing not, I ask do you, a man of London, intend of returning to your lowly country home?
Affectionately,
Elizabeth Tedrow
Dear Lizzie,
Too long indeed. You may tell my mother that her son is at long last returning home – and happily so. Rumor has also whispered in my ear – it tells me that my return will be to hear the Enchorage chapel wedding bells. Tell me, old friend, who is the fellow? I cannot wait to meet him. I shall wonder whether we shall laugh or duel.
All the best,
William Vetour
William,
I certainly hope you do not duel, for then I will loose a husband or a beloved friend and shall be very disagreeable indeed. Your mother once again beseeches me to ask when you plan to arrive at Willford Estate and if you will call on me first. I must smile and laugh at such talk. My betrothed is Mr. Samuel Swan of Bedfellow Estate. I will pray that you do not duel, Will.
Affectionately,
Elizabeth Tedrow
Dear Elizabeth,
I have met Mr. Swan one several occasions and found him very agreeable. I wish you happy. Please tell my mother that I will return to Willford and then pay calls to my friends. I assume that I shall not have to call at Enchorage if you still spend as much time there as you did when I was home.
All the best,
William Vetour
I just wrote that yesterday and today :D :D :D!!! YAHOO!!!! so i'll put on the rest when i finish the chapter1-scene!
I HOPE YA'LL LIKED IT!
*wink, wink* love ya'll!
Asiat
My Lizzie – Prologue
To my dead friend, Will,
Too long has it been since we have last traded letters. Your mother is pleased to inform me that rumor says you are to come home. She begs me to ask if you intend on doing so. With a teasing not, I ask do you, a man of London, intend of returning to your lowly country home?
Affectionately,
Elizabeth Tedrow
Dear Lizzie,
Too long indeed. You may tell my mother that her son is at long last returning home – and happily so. Rumor has also whispered in my ear – it tells me that my return will be to hear the Enchorage chapel wedding bells. Tell me, old friend, who is the fellow? I cannot wait to meet him. I shall wonder whether we shall laugh or duel.
All the best,
William Vetour
William,
I certainly hope you do not duel, for then I will loose a husband or a beloved friend and shall be very disagreeable indeed. Your mother once again beseeches me to ask when you plan to arrive at Willford Estate and if you will call on me first. I must smile and laugh at such talk. My betrothed is Mr. Samuel Swan of Bedfellow Estate. I will pray that you do not duel, Will.
Affectionately,
Elizabeth Tedrow
Dear Elizabeth,
I have met Mr. Swan one several occasions and found him very agreeable. I wish you happy. Please tell my mother that I will return to Willford and then pay calls to my friends. I assume that I shall not have to call at Enchorage if you still spend as much time there as you did when I was home.
All the best,
William Vetour
I just wrote that yesterday and today :D :D :D!!! YAHOO!!!! so i'll put on the rest when i finish the chapter1-scene!
I HOPE YA'LL LIKED IT!
*wink, wink* love ya'll!
Asiat
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sounding like a Jesus-Freak
THIS is the PouringMyHeartOut/ContemplatingLife Post. And don't worry, I'll keep it brief... not.
So many of you know that I've become.. cynical? harsh? completely lost?... forgive me for that. It was a combo of life, school, and my book-dom (book-kingdom) crashing down on me.
Life problems = a sick feeling that all my friends are going to up and leave me for no good reason at all. This also comes into play with some of my latest nightmares. I'm seriously scared that I'll loose all of my friends if I become famous or actually publish. I'm afraid I'm going to loose you guys ;( I sound so mushy, but it's really true!
School problems = this is, like, a biggie. Ya know when you go to school and you're not only the outcast, but the outcast who doesn't care. Aren't they supposed to leave you alone after you stop caring??? Oh, well. It's a case of seeing people I hate too much and seeing people I love too little. There's really nothing I can do about that.
Book-dom problems = this is more of a case of 'What the heck am I going to work on next?' and 'How do these authors make it through the second draft?' - itis. I'm really NOT sure what I want to do next. Along with the fact that I want to start a fictional story-blog about a mom who dies of cancer and leaves a diary for her son... it's REALLLLLLLYYYYYY depressing/sad and I'm not sure if anyone would read this, but it's a pretty cooooool idea. Add unto ALLLL of that that I'm still working on both 50EPOL and SoED AND the second draft of FoRM... Lord have mercy! So I'd like to see if any of you would consider reading the cancer-diary-blog story - just comment, darlings.
Well, I'm gonna flee... and continue watching Under The Greenwood Tree. lol, hopeless non-romance-believing-romantic that I am.
Ciao.
Live Long and Prosper,
Asiat
So many of you know that I've become.. cynical? harsh? completely lost?... forgive me for that. It was a combo of life, school, and my book-dom (book-kingdom) crashing down on me.
Life problems = a sick feeling that all my friends are going to up and leave me for no good reason at all. This also comes into play with some of my latest nightmares. I'm seriously scared that I'll loose all of my friends if I become famous or actually publish. I'm afraid I'm going to loose you guys ;( I sound so mushy, but it's really true!
School problems = this is, like, a biggie. Ya know when you go to school and you're not only the outcast, but the outcast who doesn't care. Aren't they supposed to leave you alone after you stop caring??? Oh, well. It's a case of seeing people I hate too much and seeing people I love too little. There's really nothing I can do about that.
Book-dom problems = this is more of a case of 'What the heck am I going to work on next?' and 'How do these authors make it through the second draft?' - itis. I'm really NOT sure what I want to do next. Along with the fact that I want to start a fictional story-blog about a mom who dies of cancer and leaves a diary for her son... it's REALLLLLLLYYYYYY depressing/sad and I'm not sure if anyone would read this, but it's a pretty cooooool idea. Add unto ALLLL of that that I'm still working on both 50EPOL and SoED AND the second draft of FoRM... Lord have mercy! So I'd like to see if any of you would consider reading the cancer-diary-blog story - just comment, darlings.
Well, I'm gonna flee... and continue watching Under The Greenwood Tree. lol, hopeless non-romance-believing-romantic that I am.
Ciao.
Live Long and Prosper,
Asiat
Monday, May 25, 2009
you're going to WANT to kill me, but then you'll give a fan-girl SQUEEEE!!!
so, i figure, that's exactly what you're going to do when you read my next selection. i FINALLY!!!! found out how i want to start this once-deadbook. *hint hint*
lol. :D :D :D I want YOU to try and figure out which dead book! (commentos!)
Prologue
Master Al’ead stood contemplatively looking at the fire. He heard a knock at his door and turned around. He was a tall, rather young man – not too old. He had icy blue eyes and deeply tanned skin; a rugged shaped body.
“Who is it?” he said quietly.
“Adela, Master Al’ead,” a small girl sniffled. Master Al’ead smiled down on the child.
“Adela, my dear, whatever is the matter?” Al’ead said, opening the door for her. She ran in and clutched his legs in a child’s bear hug.
“Papa yelled at me because I talked to a servant-boy, a bard,” she wept. “Rafael is – is intelligent and funny and Papa says I can never speak to him again because he is not my equal until he is actually a bard… then he will be my superior. Why can I not talk to him, Al’ead? Why?”
“Shh, Adela, be still,” Al’ead soothed.
“Will you tell me a story? To get my mind off of it?” Adela asked, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. Al’ead had always admired the child’s insightfulness and intelligence – admired the way she spoke as an adult.
He sat on a chair and smiled as Adela climbed up into his lap. In her dreams, she referred to him as her father, not her biological father. He loved the child dearly as much as the child loved him.
“A story, please?” she begged.
“Alright, alright,” he laughed, kissing her forehead and brushing her black her dark hair.
“Once upon a time, before our islands were covered in the Mist, we were a proud united nation. All of the islands: Karnar, Theselon, Theo, Dragon Island, Calips Island – our home, the Realm of the Barbarians, the Desert Islands. Everyone. There was a greedy man,” Al’ead said bitterly. “A greedy man who convinced his mistress and his country to turn on the others; they began a war unlike any other. Thousands of dead, and soil that was drenched in the blood of our forefathers. It was… terrible…”
“How would you know, Master Al’ead?” she asked fighting her slumping eyes.
“My father…” he said by way of explanation. “Anyways, the war lasted so long, people began to forget the real reason for it – but the man continued his campaign for the domination of the islands. Finally, diplomats from the other islands decided that enough was enough. They met the man and his mistress at the Lost City.
“One night, the four couples stood hand in hand at the center of the City. Silver rain crashed down on them and lightning stroked the skies. A dark-skinned man, the one who had begun the war, clenched his teeth at the others, yelling that this land was made for war and war shall be its destiny.
“The man leading the four couple responded ‘I will not let you do this. I will not let you destroy this land with your lust for power.’ The dark man replied, ‘I had no need to destroy this land, it destroyed itself.’ He then commanded his mistress, ‘Do it, do it now.’
“The mistress began a rhythmic dance, a wicked chant escaping her lips. Snakes rose up from the ground and killed the four couples where they stood. The dark man’s mistress was a witch – with dark, vile power. But even the Dark Forces suffer when life is taken from the earth. After all were dead, she ceased her vile dance and collapsed unto the floor as the Darkness tried to recover its life force.
“Try as she might to help the force, her work was to no avail. The guilt of murdering eight people in cold blood came crashing down. The guilt and the force became so much that she died as well…” Al’ead stopped his narration when he saw that Adela was asleep. He laid her on his cot next to the fire and covered her with a wool blanket. He sat on the ground and leaned his back on the cot. He stared into the fire.
“Please, Master Al’ead, continue with your story,” Adela said quietly, patting his dark hair gently.
“I will, I will,” he whispered, taking her hand in his. “The wicked man was… grieved… to see the one person he loved and who had loved him lying dead. He began grieving as no man ever had. He began to repent his evil ways. He began a life that was simple and he did not lust for power as he once had. Deep down inside, the man hated himself, cursed himself, for killing the only people who could have brought peace to the Islands. As much as he tried, the lands would not stop their war. They claimed his brain had gone to mush. He prowled the land and the sea in search of peace and of death. He grew old searching. He grew old…but would not die.
“The Darkness made the man prowl the earth – sometimes in the guise of a young man, but other times as an old one. Even now he prowls the earth…” Master Al’ead stopped. He turned to see the child sleeping peacefully. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “And that man’s name was Al’ead,” he whispered. “That man is me, Adela. Would you forgive me if you knew?”
Master Al’ead stroked Adela’s cheek where her tears made little dried streaks. Al’ead gathered her up in his arms. He carried her back into her room and, as he closed the door, silent tears fell down his cheeks.
The morning afterwards, Master Al’ead took his leave of ??? Castle. He was never seen again in the country.
________________________________________________________________________________
Part 1 – the Beginning Years
Eight years later…
“Must you go, Eliza?” Adela asked inquisitively. “Where are you going anyway?” Eliza pulled a gown over top her undergarment and tightened the laces.
“I go to my husband, Adela, love,” she answered quietly. Adela had always been a wild soul; Eliza being the quiet, more obedient of Sir Belroth’s daughters. “I dare say you shall be married in less than two years. When you are eighteen, dear.”
“I won’t ever get married,” Adela said passionately.
“You will,” Eliza chuckled. “Just you wait.” Just then, a maid came in telling them that their father wished to see both of his daughters. They exchanged glances and walked to his study.
“You may be at a loss as to why I have summoned you,” Sire Belroth said darkly. He was not a kind man, and never had been – often taking delight in frightening his children.
“Papa, we will know soon enough,” Eliza said, pursing her lips.
“Yes, yes,” Belroth said. “Adela will become your companion and charge when you marry. You are both being packed for. I don’t want Adela in this house for very much longer. She is too wild and we will never make an assassin of her. I chose not to do so with you, Eliza, because it would not suit you… but I am sure Adela’s evil ways will…”
“Papa, please stop,” Eliza said seriously. “You’re hurting her.” Adela was fighting back tears.
“No, no,” Adela said in a fight to be a good child. “I will go. If you hate me that much, then I will go. I am sure Eliza loves me more that you ever did and she will raise me better than you ever could!” Those words stung Sir Belroth. He had always prided himself on his ability to raise good children. He stood and snarled at his own child.
“You ungrateful child, I gave you birth,” he yelled. “You will go as any meek child would, and nothing more. You will not insult your father!”
“You are not father to me, Sir,” Adela replied, her green eyes flashing angrily. “You never were and you never will be! I take my leave of you.” Adela turned around and left the room, but not before Sir Belroth slapped her cheek. That child always made him so angry. Could she not control her mouth a moment?
Adela rushed from her room, tears pouring down her cheeks. She ran to her room and flung herself down on her bed, crying into her pillow.
“You are no father to me,” she whispered repeatedly.
Hours later, Eliza and Adela boarded the ship. They were silent and Eliza very soon became sick. Adela took to the task of caring for her. Eliza knew that Adela was a good child and that she would make a good Assassin. She had made plans of her own – against her father’s wishes. But she, after all, was not her father’s property now, she was her husband’s. She was not at her father’s mercy any longer.
“Here, Eliza,” Adela whispered, “Here is some broth.” Eliza took a sip and swallowed. Adela kept a bucket within arms reach, but Eliza nodded that she could keep it down.
“Adela?” Eliza asked when Adela lay next to her. “Would you like to continue your lessons… as an Assassin?”
“I would,” Adela said eagerly, but she downcast her eyes. “But father has forbidden it, Eliza. I cannot.”
“You can and you will,” Eliza smiled. “Papa has no control over you now, he is nothing to you because he gave you to me. I am your mother and your charge. You will go to school. I will see to it.”
“You are not my mother, Eliza, you are my sister,” Adela smiled. “But I thank you!” Adela hugged Eliza’s slender waist tightly.
“I fear we will have to continue etiquette lessons,” she laughed. Adela smiled.
“So be it.”
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..... how do you like it???
Live long and prosper,
Asiat
lol. :D :D :D I want YOU to try and figure out which dead book! (commentos!)
Prologue
Master Al’ead stood contemplatively looking at the fire. He heard a knock at his door and turned around. He was a tall, rather young man – not too old. He had icy blue eyes and deeply tanned skin; a rugged shaped body.
“Who is it?” he said quietly.
“Adela, Master Al’ead,” a small girl sniffled. Master Al’ead smiled down on the child.
“Adela, my dear, whatever is the matter?” Al’ead said, opening the door for her. She ran in and clutched his legs in a child’s bear hug.
“Papa yelled at me because I talked to a servant-boy, a bard,” she wept. “Rafael is – is intelligent and funny and Papa says I can never speak to him again because he is not my equal until he is actually a bard… then he will be my superior. Why can I not talk to him, Al’ead? Why?”
“Shh, Adela, be still,” Al’ead soothed.
“Will you tell me a story? To get my mind off of it?” Adela asked, wiping the tears away from her cheeks. Al’ead had always admired the child’s insightfulness and intelligence – admired the way she spoke as an adult.
He sat on a chair and smiled as Adela climbed up into his lap. In her dreams, she referred to him as her father, not her biological father. He loved the child dearly as much as the child loved him.
“A story, please?” she begged.
“Alright, alright,” he laughed, kissing her forehead and brushing her black her dark hair.
“Once upon a time, before our islands were covered in the Mist, we were a proud united nation. All of the islands: Karnar, Theselon, Theo, Dragon Island, Calips Island – our home, the Realm of the Barbarians, the Desert Islands. Everyone. There was a greedy man,” Al’ead said bitterly. “A greedy man who convinced his mistress and his country to turn on the others; they began a war unlike any other. Thousands of dead, and soil that was drenched in the blood of our forefathers. It was… terrible…”
“How would you know, Master Al’ead?” she asked fighting her slumping eyes.
“My father…” he said by way of explanation. “Anyways, the war lasted so long, people began to forget the real reason for it – but the man continued his campaign for the domination of the islands. Finally, diplomats from the other islands decided that enough was enough. They met the man and his mistress at the Lost City.
“One night, the four couples stood hand in hand at the center of the City. Silver rain crashed down on them and lightning stroked the skies. A dark-skinned man, the one who had begun the war, clenched his teeth at the others, yelling that this land was made for war and war shall be its destiny.
“The man leading the four couple responded ‘I will not let you do this. I will not let you destroy this land with your lust for power.’ The dark man replied, ‘I had no need to destroy this land, it destroyed itself.’ He then commanded his mistress, ‘Do it, do it now.’
“The mistress began a rhythmic dance, a wicked chant escaping her lips. Snakes rose up from the ground and killed the four couples where they stood. The dark man’s mistress was a witch – with dark, vile power. But even the Dark Forces suffer when life is taken from the earth. After all were dead, she ceased her vile dance and collapsed unto the floor as the Darkness tried to recover its life force.
“Try as she might to help the force, her work was to no avail. The guilt of murdering eight people in cold blood came crashing down. The guilt and the force became so much that she died as well…” Al’ead stopped his narration when he saw that Adela was asleep. He laid her on his cot next to the fire and covered her with a wool blanket. He sat on the ground and leaned his back on the cot. He stared into the fire.
“Please, Master Al’ead, continue with your story,” Adela said quietly, patting his dark hair gently.
“I will, I will,” he whispered, taking her hand in his. “The wicked man was… grieved… to see the one person he loved and who had loved him lying dead. He began grieving as no man ever had. He began to repent his evil ways. He began a life that was simple and he did not lust for power as he once had. Deep down inside, the man hated himself, cursed himself, for killing the only people who could have brought peace to the Islands. As much as he tried, the lands would not stop their war. They claimed his brain had gone to mush. He prowled the land and the sea in search of peace and of death. He grew old searching. He grew old…but would not die.
“The Darkness made the man prowl the earth – sometimes in the guise of a young man, but other times as an old one. Even now he prowls the earth…” Master Al’ead stopped. He turned to see the child sleeping peacefully. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. “And that man’s name was Al’ead,” he whispered. “That man is me, Adela. Would you forgive me if you knew?”
Master Al’ead stroked Adela’s cheek where her tears made little dried streaks. Al’ead gathered her up in his arms. He carried her back into her room and, as he closed the door, silent tears fell down his cheeks.
The morning afterwards, Master Al’ead took his leave of ??? Castle. He was never seen again in the country.
________________________________________________________________________________
Part 1 – the Beginning Years
Eight years later…
“Must you go, Eliza?” Adela asked inquisitively. “Where are you going anyway?” Eliza pulled a gown over top her undergarment and tightened the laces.
“I go to my husband, Adela, love,” she answered quietly. Adela had always been a wild soul; Eliza being the quiet, more obedient of Sir Belroth’s daughters. “I dare say you shall be married in less than two years. When you are eighteen, dear.”
“I won’t ever get married,” Adela said passionately.
“You will,” Eliza chuckled. “Just you wait.” Just then, a maid came in telling them that their father wished to see both of his daughters. They exchanged glances and walked to his study.
“You may be at a loss as to why I have summoned you,” Sire Belroth said darkly. He was not a kind man, and never had been – often taking delight in frightening his children.
“Papa, we will know soon enough,” Eliza said, pursing her lips.
“Yes, yes,” Belroth said. “Adela will become your companion and charge when you marry. You are both being packed for. I don’t want Adela in this house for very much longer. She is too wild and we will never make an assassin of her. I chose not to do so with you, Eliza, because it would not suit you… but I am sure Adela’s evil ways will…”
“Papa, please stop,” Eliza said seriously. “You’re hurting her.” Adela was fighting back tears.
“No, no,” Adela said in a fight to be a good child. “I will go. If you hate me that much, then I will go. I am sure Eliza loves me more that you ever did and she will raise me better than you ever could!” Those words stung Sir Belroth. He had always prided himself on his ability to raise good children. He stood and snarled at his own child.
“You ungrateful child, I gave you birth,” he yelled. “You will go as any meek child would, and nothing more. You will not insult your father!”
“You are not father to me, Sir,” Adela replied, her green eyes flashing angrily. “You never were and you never will be! I take my leave of you.” Adela turned around and left the room, but not before Sir Belroth slapped her cheek. That child always made him so angry. Could she not control her mouth a moment?
Adela rushed from her room, tears pouring down her cheeks. She ran to her room and flung herself down on her bed, crying into her pillow.
“You are no father to me,” she whispered repeatedly.
Hours later, Eliza and Adela boarded the ship. They were silent and Eliza very soon became sick. Adela took to the task of caring for her. Eliza knew that Adela was a good child and that she would make a good Assassin. She had made plans of her own – against her father’s wishes. But she, after all, was not her father’s property now, she was her husband’s. She was not at her father’s mercy any longer.
“Here, Eliza,” Adela whispered, “Here is some broth.” Eliza took a sip and swallowed. Adela kept a bucket within arms reach, but Eliza nodded that she could keep it down.
“Adela?” Eliza asked when Adela lay next to her. “Would you like to continue your lessons… as an Assassin?”
“I would,” Adela said eagerly, but she downcast her eyes. “But father has forbidden it, Eliza. I cannot.”
“You can and you will,” Eliza smiled. “Papa has no control over you now, he is nothing to you because he gave you to me. I am your mother and your charge. You will go to school. I will see to it.”
“You are not my mother, Eliza, you are my sister,” Adela smiled. “But I thank you!” Adela hugged Eliza’s slender waist tightly.
“I fear we will have to continue etiquette lessons,” she laughed. Adela smiled.
“So be it.”
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..... how do you like it???
Live long and prosper,
Asiat
Friday, May 15, 2009
I TOLD YOU...
I was working on EVERYTHING...
Featurette of the blog post: 50 Extra Pounds of Love
LOL I LOVE THIS ONE :D :D :D
HOMEROOM
It’s the first day of class, sophomore year. I have the same book bag that I had last year; but, unlike the cheerleaders, mine isn’t signed or doodled on by my friends. I crowd with the other students around the bulletin board of homeroom – hoping it looks like I’m popular. That’s when I read it.
ATTENTION!
DO YOU HAVE THE SELF-HATRED OF A WALNUT?
OR OF THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING?
LEARN HOW TO LOVE YOURSELF
MEETINGS IN MRS ALLEGRO’S ROOM
3:30-4:30
MONDAYS AND FRIDAYS
What kind of stupidity is that? “Learn how to love yourself,” yeah, that’s sure possible. What a joke. The bell rings and I take my seat for class.
8th PERIOD - ART
“Welcome back, students,” Mrs. Allegro greets warmly. She’s replied by a groan of kids who look like they haven’t slept in weeks; I’m among them. Mrs. Allegro frowns a little and says, “Good afternoon, class.”
“’Afternoon, Mrs. Allegro,” is mumbled, but it sounds like “’Noon Mr. Alleg…” She frowns even more.
“I said, good afternoon, class,” she says loudly, tapping a stick against the desk and scratching her long nails on the chalkboard. We all jump. “Sound alive! Wake up, children.” If there’s anything the students hate more than being in school, it’s being called children – and the teachers know it.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Allegro,” the class resounds.
Mrs. Allegro teaches art. This year, we have twenty projects, but they all stem from this one topic we’re given at the beginning of the year. Mrs. Allegro read this book about a girl and her art teacher gives them a topic that they use all year. I think it’s cool, but it’s going to get really boring on a few weeks.
Mrs. Allegro has a cool job – all she does is do art, and how cool is that? Pretty cool. She hands around a huge bucket. I don’t blame her – there’s like forty people in our class. It’s my turn. I reach my hand in and pull out an innocent looking paper that Mrs. Allegro says “holds our destiny”. She hits my hand and grabs my paper, putting it back in the bucket. She winks and I wonder what she is up to.
“Now some of you have feelings instead of objects,” she explains.
“Oh, Romeo,” someone groans. It’s Sam – Sam the Blockhead Jock. Also known in cheerleader language as Sam-the-Hottest-Guy-on-the-Football-Team; they don’t call him anything else, unless he’s in their presence – in which case they stutter like bumbling baboons. I don’t get how a sophomore is one of the most popular guys in the school. But, then, there’s the ‘story’. Apparently, two years ago was the last time we had a real football team – a team that won things. Last year’s seniors were the soccer champs.
“What?” Mrs. Allegro says, snapping up his paper. “Oh,” she says. “Sam has love letter everyone.” There’s a collective laugh from the class. Sam rolls his eyes and starts laughing with his stupid jock friends: Randy, Quinton, Derek, Kandy, and Blake. These six jocks are cute, but their brains and good manners have been fried in video games, cheerleaders’ miniskirts, and their own self glory.
“There’s a catch,” Mrs. Allegro announces. “I didn’t make enough ideas for all of you.” The class groans again. This ought to be good. “All of you, get into partners.” Everyone stands up and shuffles. I go to my biggest fan, Jamie.
“You are so weird,” she says with a smile by way of greeting. I grin back. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“Okay, class,” Mrs. Allegro says, clapping her hands. “Now turn around.” We all turn around. Jamie’s with Kandy and I’m with… Sam the Blockhead Jock. Oh no. “You’ve just met your new partner.” I groan and raise my hand.
“Yes, Miss Whitehouse?” she asks.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t partner with him,” I say, pointing my thumb back at Sam the Blockhead Jock.
“And why not?” she says inquisitively.
“Because I speak alien,” I say. The class breaks out laughing.
“That holds consequence?” she asks.
“It means I can’t talk to this idiot,” I reply. Now, Mrs. Allegro laughs and the rest of the class is silent. You could hear a cricket sing or a pin drop if you really wanted to. The cheerleaders are in the front right of the classroom and they’re all gapping – I want to tell them that, yes, I just dissed their beloved obssession.
“Take your seat, Scarlet,” Mrs. Allegro says, chuckling.
“But –,” I say, just for the sake of argument.
“I’m sure you don’t have to talk idiot,” she replies. “Or, if you do, you can just get a translator.”
“Nice,” I say, nodding.
“Thanks,” she says, winking at me. Mrs. Allegro and I have always been on good terms. Meanwhile, Sam the Blockhead Jock is trying to figure out that we insulted him. Jamie, who’s still sitting next to me, looks at me and grins.
“I think he’s burning his hair trying to work out what I said,” I whisper to Jamie. She giggles.
“I bet,” she whispers back.
Mrs. Allegro starts handing out paper and tells us to converge and produce some ‘super’ ideas. This is going to be the worst class of the year.
“You know,” Sam the Blockhead Jock says, moving his desk closer to mine, “I’m not that bad.” I roll my eyes in his face.
“Yeah right,” I say. “And I’m a supermodel.”
CONTEMPLATION
Sam the Blockhead Jock really bothered me. I’m no supermodel, by the way; in fact, quite the opposite. Yeah, that’s right, I’m fat – but who cares? I’m not counting pounds or meals. The teachers claim that it’s my “knowledge of self” that makes me comfortable with my body.
Excuse my language, but I think that’s bull as well.
Yeah, I’m ugly; yeah, I’m not changing myself; yeah, the “teasing” hurts sometimes; no, I can’t do anything about it. Why show weakness? What’s the point? If I let them know it hurts, then I get hurt more – it’s not like sympathy – ugh – exists anymore. Note to self: Never show weakness.
Yes, I live by that – never show weakness… It’s the best saying that ever happened to me. My parents are at a loss. They think I’m so strong even when, sometimes, I just want to fall apart.
The only, only person I’ve ever told about my “problems” is Martyn. He’s a tall, lean emo-ish kid. He hangs in the halls and everybody assumes he’s going to have a breakdown and create a gun-scenario in our school. I don’t think it’s true, but you never know.
THE BIGGEST LIE THEY EVER TELL YOU IN YOUR LIFE:
Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you.
Punch the person you next catch saying that, will you? They are liars and fakers. And, chances are, they don’t know what you’re talking about. High school is supposed to be a chance to grow and find your niche, but most of the time, you just find people you don’t want to hang with. Genius.
ONE QUESTION: Am i a little too cynical??? I'm pouring all my anger into this one... maybe i need to calm down a tad...
Asiat
Featurette of the blog post: 50 Extra Pounds of Love
LOL I LOVE THIS ONE :D :D :D
HOMEROOM
It’s the first day of class, sophomore year. I have the same book bag that I had last year; but, unlike the cheerleaders, mine isn’t signed or doodled on by my friends. I crowd with the other students around the bulletin board of homeroom – hoping it looks like I’m popular. That’s when I read it.
ATTENTION!
DO YOU HAVE THE SELF-HATRED OF A WALNUT?
OR OF THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING?
LEARN HOW TO LOVE YOURSELF
MEETINGS IN MRS ALLEGRO’S ROOM
3:30-4:30
MONDAYS AND FRIDAYS
What kind of stupidity is that? “Learn how to love yourself,” yeah, that’s sure possible. What a joke. The bell rings and I take my seat for class.
8th PERIOD - ART
“Welcome back, students,” Mrs. Allegro greets warmly. She’s replied by a groan of kids who look like they haven’t slept in weeks; I’m among them. Mrs. Allegro frowns a little and says, “Good afternoon, class.”
“’Afternoon, Mrs. Allegro,” is mumbled, but it sounds like “’Noon Mr. Alleg…” She frowns even more.
“I said, good afternoon, class,” she says loudly, tapping a stick against the desk and scratching her long nails on the chalkboard. We all jump. “Sound alive! Wake up, children.” If there’s anything the students hate more than being in school, it’s being called children – and the teachers know it.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Allegro,” the class resounds.
Mrs. Allegro teaches art. This year, we have twenty projects, but they all stem from this one topic we’re given at the beginning of the year. Mrs. Allegro read this book about a girl and her art teacher gives them a topic that they use all year. I think it’s cool, but it’s going to get really boring on a few weeks.
Mrs. Allegro has a cool job – all she does is do art, and how cool is that? Pretty cool. She hands around a huge bucket. I don’t blame her – there’s like forty people in our class. It’s my turn. I reach my hand in and pull out an innocent looking paper that Mrs. Allegro says “holds our destiny”. She hits my hand and grabs my paper, putting it back in the bucket. She winks and I wonder what she is up to.
“Now some of you have feelings instead of objects,” she explains.
“Oh, Romeo,” someone groans. It’s Sam – Sam the Blockhead Jock. Also known in cheerleader language as Sam-the-Hottest-Guy-on-the-Football-Team; they don’t call him anything else, unless he’s in their presence – in which case they stutter like bumbling baboons. I don’t get how a sophomore is one of the most popular guys in the school. But, then, there’s the ‘story’. Apparently, two years ago was the last time we had a real football team – a team that won things. Last year’s seniors were the soccer champs.
“What?” Mrs. Allegro says, snapping up his paper. “Oh,” she says. “Sam has love letter everyone.” There’s a collective laugh from the class. Sam rolls his eyes and starts laughing with his stupid jock friends: Randy, Quinton, Derek, Kandy, and Blake. These six jocks are cute, but their brains and good manners have been fried in video games, cheerleaders’ miniskirts, and their own self glory.
“There’s a catch,” Mrs. Allegro announces. “I didn’t make enough ideas for all of you.” The class groans again. This ought to be good. “All of you, get into partners.” Everyone stands up and shuffles. I go to my biggest fan, Jamie.
“You are so weird,” she says with a smile by way of greeting. I grin back. Maybe this won’t be so bad.
“Okay, class,” Mrs. Allegro says, clapping her hands. “Now turn around.” We all turn around. Jamie’s with Kandy and I’m with… Sam the Blockhead Jock. Oh no. “You’ve just met your new partner.” I groan and raise my hand.
“Yes, Miss Whitehouse?” she asks.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t partner with him,” I say, pointing my thumb back at Sam the Blockhead Jock.
“And why not?” she says inquisitively.
“Because I speak alien,” I say. The class breaks out laughing.
“That holds consequence?” she asks.
“It means I can’t talk to this idiot,” I reply. Now, Mrs. Allegro laughs and the rest of the class is silent. You could hear a cricket sing or a pin drop if you really wanted to. The cheerleaders are in the front right of the classroom and they’re all gapping – I want to tell them that, yes, I just dissed their beloved obssession.
“Take your seat, Scarlet,” Mrs. Allegro says, chuckling.
“But –,” I say, just for the sake of argument.
“I’m sure you don’t have to talk idiot,” she replies. “Or, if you do, you can just get a translator.”
“Nice,” I say, nodding.
“Thanks,” she says, winking at me. Mrs. Allegro and I have always been on good terms. Meanwhile, Sam the Blockhead Jock is trying to figure out that we insulted him. Jamie, who’s still sitting next to me, looks at me and grins.
“I think he’s burning his hair trying to work out what I said,” I whisper to Jamie. She giggles.
“I bet,” she whispers back.
Mrs. Allegro starts handing out paper and tells us to converge and produce some ‘super’ ideas. This is going to be the worst class of the year.
“You know,” Sam the Blockhead Jock says, moving his desk closer to mine, “I’m not that bad.” I roll my eyes in his face.
“Yeah right,” I say. “And I’m a supermodel.”
CONTEMPLATION
Sam the Blockhead Jock really bothered me. I’m no supermodel, by the way; in fact, quite the opposite. Yeah, that’s right, I’m fat – but who cares? I’m not counting pounds or meals. The teachers claim that it’s my “knowledge of self” that makes me comfortable with my body.
Excuse my language, but I think that’s bull as well.
Yeah, I’m ugly; yeah, I’m not changing myself; yeah, the “teasing” hurts sometimes; no, I can’t do anything about it. Why show weakness? What’s the point? If I let them know it hurts, then I get hurt more – it’s not like sympathy – ugh – exists anymore. Note to self: Never show weakness.
Yes, I live by that – never show weakness… It’s the best saying that ever happened to me. My parents are at a loss. They think I’m so strong even when, sometimes, I just want to fall apart.
The only, only person I’ve ever told about my “problems” is Martyn. He’s a tall, lean emo-ish kid. He hangs in the halls and everybody assumes he’s going to have a breakdown and create a gun-scenario in our school. I don’t think it’s true, but you never know.
THE BIGGEST LIE THEY EVER TELL YOU IN YOUR LIFE:
Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you.
Punch the person you next catch saying that, will you? They are liars and fakers. And, chances are, they don’t know what you’re talking about. High school is supposed to be a chance to grow and find your niche, but most of the time, you just find people you don’t want to hang with. Genius.
ONE QUESTION: Am i a little too cynical??? I'm pouring all my anger into this one... maybe i need to calm down a tad...
Asiat
Thursday, May 14, 2009
jumpingjellybeans13 sent you a video: "Spock/Uhura-18 Days- Star Trek(2009)"
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| jumpingjellybeans13 has shared a video with you on YouTube: yo yo ppls. ignore the music... but the scenes!!! MEMORABLE! NOTE(5/11/09) Thank you all so much! I've gotten 2 honors for this video. I didn't realize when I made this or Womanizer how quickly they would become popular. I'll make another Spock/Uhura video if there is interest for one. Just send me a message or leave one here. One of my favorite aspects of J.J. Abram's Star Trek is how he characterized Spock. The way Spock delt with his emotions that he had bound up since childhood is this cold calm demenor. That of course has always been Spock. But this film throws a monkey wrench into that equation- Uhura. I'm not a huge Trek fan, but I've been told they've never had a romance before. Anyway, I loved how Uhura was always there for the emotionally devote Spock. I think I squealed in the theatre when he let himself put his head on her should after the destruction of Vulcan. There relationship was such a great part of the film and I hope it is explored further in the rumored sequel. I noticed something the second time I watched the film th... more | |
| © 2009 YouTube, LLC 901 Cherry Ave, San Bruno, CA 94066 | |
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
And Now, For Something Completely DIFFERENT!!!~
I'm glad ya'll enjoyed the Trekkie Post. I loved it too! BUT THIS IS SOOOO NEW!!!
Like no-one-never-heard-of-it-new-story. Currently titled: Oh He Was Beautiful (meaning comes later in the story) I'm pretty sure this is gonna be one of those semi-mushy mythologically-based (YES, VERY MUCH SO!!!) stories. I think it's soooo cool, but, then you are judges as well:
"Keep to the Shadows because
you know not
what lingers in the light…"
- Lord Shade
Perhaps it is foolish to say so, but love does strange things to people. I am known as Evelyn, Princess of the Shadow World. My mother is the Queen, known in the Over World as Penelope. And my father is known as Hades in the Over World. These are not their real names. My mother's real name is Penel and my father is Shade. Lord Shade.
My world is lost in shadows. Everything is grey and black. There is no color – no light. I have never been to the Over World. The few things that glitter here in the darkness are the stones. My father is Lord over the stones and rocks and dirt and the Dead. The Dead who come to my father's kingdom with gold on their eyes and underneath their tongue; people who once had lives but who come with no life and no color.
Things and people are so pale down here in the Underworld. It is dark and dank and dead. I have two true friends down here in the Underworld – Maxime and Cerberus. Maxime is a young woman who died during childbirth – she is just my age, just ten and six. She will get no older in this dark place, but nor will I. Cerberus may have a bad temper, but he is truly sweet and gentle – he would give his life for me.
Princess Evelyn, pretty Evelyn, wonderful Evelyn. Sometimes I get so sick of their lies. I cannot be pretty when I am as colorless as death. I cannot be wonderful if I cannot breathe in this must. My father says that I would burn in the sun if I went to the Over World. He says that there are bad people who would rob me of more than money. I do not believe him. I believe that anything would be better than living in this dark hole.
Penel, my mother, goes to her mother every six months to visit her mother. When she comes back she is brighter – like she has color. It is so beautiful. I wish I could go out so that I could get color. I wish I could run away and run free in a field and feel the sun on my face. My mother tells me such wonderful stories about the Over World and how beautiful and serene it is up there. How life is not consumed by death, but rather a celebration of life. How it is a cycle – birth, life, and death – in a winding dance that never seems to end.
How beautiful that sounds.
yeps, i kinda meander (puddle?) around the first chapter... but any takers??? vote yes or no or maybe if ya'll wanna see more!
*fumbles 'cuz she can't figure out how to do spock hands!!!*
*gives up*
Live long and prosper, buds.
Asiat
Monday, May 11, 2009
Trekkie Love <3 *SPOILER ALERT FOR PPL WHO HAVEN'T SEEN IT*
I'm currently regressing into my childhood state of Star-Trek-Lover! Maybe I should delve into P&P??? Possibly not... there's plently of goooooood mancandy in the new Star Trek movie (yeah, I saw it and LOVED it!!!)
Make sure none of you drool on the computer, loves. This is Chris Pine - a much much MUCH better Kirk than Willie Shatner (sorry Willie, ur just not as hot/young as Chris.)
and... My live-long-and-prosper buddie - SPOCK!!! (God, i always LOVED this dude - he was great :D) did you know that the actor is a Central Catholic Alumni??? ( I only know this because my bro told me.)
Apparently, he's 31 (hey, he graduated the year i was born... how koooool is that?)... Grad of CMU... blah blah blah... (another amazing fact... E.C.P.M. is hot for Spock.... lol, sorry hon, i had to say it!)
now, here's something I found, like, seriously AWESOME!!!
But there aren't many pics of it... :(
CAPTION: Spock & Uhura (i check the spelling!!!) love. Lol.. it's sweeet.
REALLY??? Is that all i could find??? sadly - after half an hour of surfing too. grrr. maybe i can find a thing for it on utube.... i'll post it if i find it.
AN a question... does anyone remember Uhura's first name???
All my love,
Asiat
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