Transcendence

Transcendence- Chapter One

       The woman stood by, staring in silence at the landscape. From where she was, so high up on the mountain, she could see everything so clearly. Neighboring mountains walled in the valley, opening a good ways off to the ocean that spread far enough that no land could be seen on the other side. The rolling hills dipped down to meet the villages that dotted the valley floor. Even now, so early in the morning, the woman could see wisps of smoke reaching out of the stone chimneys of the cottages below. She was warmed by the sight, the sight so familiar that she should be comforted. But with the warmth came the memory of the strange things that had recently befallen her. She turned away from the valley and instead looked up to the very top of the mountain she stood on, staring at the snow-capped pines that dotted the tip, creating a bright white to glare against the dark of the barren trees. Feeling a sudden but subtle lurch in her stomach, the woman lay a hand on her belly and shut her eyes. That's when, against the dark night sky, an even darker shape appeared overhead. Opening her eyes, the woman's eyes flew to the air above her, wary of the monstrous shadow. Then someone, or something, spoke to her.
     "Zara," it said, barely above a whisper, and sounding as though it was being spoken directly into the woman's ear, "time to wake up."
     Though the push on her shoulder was gentle, the woman, startled, fell onto her side, landing in the dirt and staring straight ahead as a giant being landed on the ground beside her.
     "Zara!"
I wake from my dream, no longer the woman on the mountainside. I find myself still on my side, but in my own bed. I can feel a cool air on my neck where a light sweat still lingers. Where the being should be, instead, I find the complete opposite. "Jamie," I groan, "Worst. Timing. Ever."
     My twin brother grins at me before softly patting my head. "Was is the dream again?"
His hand is warm against my forehead, and it seems to soothe away the tension that followed my dream. Though younger than me, even if only by a few minutes, Jamie always acts like a big brother to me. He takes charge of the important things like cooking meals, keeping the house straight, and making sure the both of us get to school on time. With me, though, it takes a good amount of effort.
      "When isn't it?" I ask, rolling from under his hand and turning over to face away from him. "I don't feel like school today."
      He settles beside me on the bed. "How bad was it this time? Did you get any further than usual?"
After a slight hesitation, I shake my head, then press my cheek into my pillow. Understanding, as he always does, Jamie begins to smooth my hair again. He doesn't speak; he simply waits to see what I will do next. After a few moments, I say softly, "I think there's something wrong with her."
    "With who?"
"Me." I shake my head. "I mean, the woman. The one I become in the dream. It's the way she reacts to the thing approaching her."
    Since I began having this recurring dream seven months ago, Jamie and I have discussed it in great detail, making predictions about. For instance, why is the woman away from her village in the first place? Why does she seem so nervous? And the million-dollar question, just what is the shadow in the sky?
    "Did she seem especially afraid of it?" Jamie asks encouragingly.
The tremor of her heartbeat. The lurch in her stomach. The way she collapses at the slightest wind.
    "She's always afraid," I answer in a hushed whisper. Then, I sit up and scoot past him and off the bed. Remaining where he's settled, Jamie watches me as I go to my dresser to pick out an outfit for today. Then he says something I've never dreamed about coming from his mouth.
    "We don't have to go in today, if you don't want to."
Stopping short, I stare at him through the mirror hanging above my dresser. He meets my eyes. It makes sense that we're considered identical. We both have the same messy, bluish-black hair, his cut just below his eyebrows and above his collar, mine left long, stopping halfway down my back. Our faces are similar, as similar as they can get without seeming unnatural. The only difference between us is our eyes. While his are a dark blue, framed brilliantly by his long dark eyelashes, my eyes are a pale green, like sea glass. We like to pretend he got his eye color from our mother, and mine are like our father's. While we have no proof, it made us feel good when we thought it up as children. Even now, the idea has a nice glow to it.
    "You're serious?" I ask incredulously. "Ditch school?"
He shrugs. "Maya doesn't have to know. If she finds out, I'll say you got sick, and that I didn't think to call her to inform the office."
    I turn from the mirror and face him, smiling and crossing my arms. "Where on earth has my brother gone?"
   He grins, rising and taking my hands. "Get dressed. Breakfast in ten. If you're late, don't expect any sympathy."
   With that, he exits the room swiftly. I catch the door before it closes, calling, "Jamison Cadmus, you've gone mad!"
    Already at his own room, Jamie turns to me, smiling, and says, "That makes two of us", before shutting his door. Shaking my head in disbelief, I turn back into my room to get ready for breakfast. I expected nothing more than a fun day spent with my brother.
   If only a good day would last.





((((Oh my goodness, an actual story?! Don't get me wrong, I'm surprised myself. But it's a nice change of pace. After so long of ranting and suffering from writer's block, it feel fantastic to have a little mojo left in me. Can't promise much of this, as it was just something plaguing my mind for a bit, but hopefully I can make something cool out of it.
Btw, y'all like my totally creative title? -.- don't judge, I couldn't come up with anything better. It will probably change later, but who knows. We shall see. Plus, didn't even read over this twice, so don't judge for errors. G'night!
 ~Squiggs))))

Life, Scars, and Apologies

I don't know what else to do.
I know I'm not the best friend. Lord knows the many times I've said this, and the thousands of times I've thought it. I still can't decide if this is realization or naivety.
Everyone is not the same. This contradicts what I wrote about earlier, but it's true. I'm still tired of being grouped in with people. Why can't I be my own person? I wish I could be that one friend that likes everyone. Cuz I do like everyone. Hell, I love everyone. But I'm still pushed away. Do I not try? I think I do. Am I a nuisance? Probably. But I do try. At least, I did.
I'm not gonna be that girl anymore. And it wasn't the preacher on the TV telling me that my sins shouldn't hold me down. It wasn't the outline of Psalm 51 that I wrote last night for Bible class that told me I should repent my sins and ask for cleanliness. It was a song.
When this song came on my 8tracks, I stopped to listen to it, which is strange because I usually just let the music play in the background. But I listened, and I began to cry. Not because the song is sad.
But because it made me feel strong.

I'm tired of being pushed around. Tired of being judged by actions that aren't my own. I still feel like I'm being grouped in with other people, people who aren't like me. Sometimes groups are okay, but this is different. I'm being judged because of other people, and I'm sick of it. But why should I change because of it?
For you out there, if you read this, you know who you are. I'm the same as you. But you're stronger than I am. I gave in. But don't treat me like them. Please. I don't think I deserve that.
For anyone out there, anyone I tried for, I'm not sorry for trying. I don't regret it. But I'm tired of being ignored for pouring my heart it to you. I feel like the best thing to do is simply curl in on myself, because that seems like the only solution at this point.
I'm still going to love everyone. I don't think I'll ever stop. I want to be everyone's friend.
But I guess that depends on them, not me.
I can't add a link, but please listen to this song. You don't have to, of course, but it really helped me, so maybe it can do the same to someone else.

Dear X, You Don't Own Me - Disciple

It's all the things we can't explain that make us human.

"We live in a house made of each other, and if that sounds strange that's because it is."

   Everybody, every single human being, will suffer at some point in their life. Maybe it's the loss of a loved one, a bad test grade, a so-called "friend" tossing them away. No matter how great the force is, we're all the same. We all go through it. Some of us are crushed under the weight. That's how strong it is. It smashes hope to pieces. It makes even the kindest, most amazing human being feel like an insignificant piece of dirt. But we move on.

   If we let suffering bring us down, then we will truly have nothing left. Letting it win is giving up every ounce of hope you still have, hope that can't be replaced.
 
   When people suffer, they tend to hide away, believing that no one notices or cares. They put on a mask that hides their true feelings, relying on their "everything's okay" face to get them through life. They hide within this facade and decide it's better there, where no one can hurt them but themselves. I've been behind this facade too many times, and I still never learn my lesson. Why should I burden someone else with my problems? Isn't it easier to just deny my need for help and simply pretend to be okay? That's not lying to my friends, is it? That's not betraying there trust and hurting their feelings, right?

   I'm tired of people curling in on themselves because they don't think anyone can help them. Thousands of people commit suicide because they refuse to look for help, going to such lengths by denying help if it is offered. The truth of it is, every single human suffers, and whether the force is strong or simple, it's all the same. We all fight the same battles, so why don't we fight together? Why do we shut out everyone who could help?

   I don't mean any offense to anyone, and I don't hate anyone for it, but I feel hurt by this. It feels like selfishness. You're really so stubborn to stay miserable, aren't you? You won't let me help. Isn't that what you want? You want it to stop? Maybe I can make that happen. Even if I can't, a little support could help you, right? But no, I can't even do that much, can I? What kind of person am I if I can't even comfort one of my closest friends?

  In truth, this isn't a spur-of-the-moment post. This is going out to someone who I think has been suffering greatly as of late. Someone who doesn't think anyone else cares to notice.

 So yeah, it makes me feel like crap. It makes me feel like a lousy friend. Because true friends know that they are always welcome, no matter the circumstances. It's not rude. It's not harmful. It hurts more to never have a chance with you.
                               I just want it to be like the old days.

Lyrics:
Human- Civil Twilight
Tiny Glowing Screens Part 2- Watsky

If I stumble, they're gonna eat me alive

"If we're still alive, my regrets are few.
If my life is mine, what shouldn't I do?"

I feel like I'm drowning. 
Figuratively, of course, but it's still scary. It's as if I'm floating in the ocean, and every wrong move I make is more water entering my lungs. There's no point in trying to swim up to the surface. There's truly nothing I can do but wait for that last mistake, the final mouthful of water, that ends it completely. I don't have any say in it at all. 
This is what I hate about myself. Don't get me wrong, I hate myself for a lot of reasons, but this is one of the main ones, my biggest fear. I'm afraid of being rejected. And lately, that's been happening. A lot. 
There's a difference between being alone and being alone. I love being by myself, just me and my iPod and a good book. That's by my own choice. It's my escape. 
But being rejected? It's being alone in the knowledge that no one, not one person wants to be with you. And that, to me, is terrifying. 
It's happened enough times already. I've basically forgotten all of my childhood friends except a certain few who wish me a Happy Birthday, if they even remember to do that much. The first years of high school were great. I loved being able to sit down at the same table as all my friends, being able to look at them all and talk and laugh with them every day for lunch. But now that we have the option of off-campus lunch, I never get to see any of them anymore. I see them maybe once a day and muster a hello, but I want more than that. I feel like they're all getting torn away from me. 
I guess I can't blame anyone but myself. It's my own fault, I suppose. I just wish I was strong enough to have control over my own life, but I feel like I don't even have that much. I'm controlled by my own weakness, my desire to be wanted by at least one person, to be needed by them. And because of that, I feel like I've lost everyone else. 
I'm not quite sure where this is going. It just feels good to get it all out. I can't stand the idea of losing anyone, but it's as if I have to choose between one or the other. I can lose them, or I can lose her. And I can't bear losing either. 
The water holds me down, putting pressure on my body and keeping me far beneath the surface. It's dark here, and when I think I see a light out of the corner of my eye, it's gone when I turn towards it. Water pours into my lungs each time I try and fail.
I feel like I'm drowning. 

Song: Help, I'm Alive       Artist: Metric

Normal Girl, Normal Knees

"I don't wanna be 'the bee's knees'. I don't wanna be any kind of 'knees'! I just wanna be a 
     normal girl, with normal knees."                             


I was tempted to start this off with a keyboard smash, but I figured that wouldn't be the best approach. Don't be surprised if one appears later in this post.

Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuys. I'm floundering. I'm like a floppy pancake. There's just an enormous amount of stuff going on, good and bad and annoying and awesome, and it's just...I.....mehhh.
  Okay. I'll start off with the fact that I should be doing homework, but how can I think about that when there's so much going on in my mind?
  School is weird. Basically it's a mix of easy classes, hard classes, too much homework, and people friends that I want to be able to do stuff with all the time but can't, sometimes because of other friends being involved or stuff like that. So really, it's an enormous stress pool.(hehe. get it. instead of cesspool. hehe. hehehe. >.> )
  There's that, and then there's Halloween, Animazement, various future cons, and cosplays to worry about. Ugh. COSPLAY. To have so many expectations and zero money is a huge downer. Hm...let's see. What else.
    Oh! Freaking shows nowadays! Between Supernatural, Walking Dead, OUAT, Tomorrow People, and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., that leaves a good, oh, fifteen minutes for homework? Maybe? I'm exaggerating, of course, but still, when I put the two together, shows are more important that homework. (JK. Kinda.)
And I've recently caught up with Rooster Teeth's RWBY, which is AMAZING. That's what the quote above is from. RWBY is also the source of my new dream cosplays >.< necesito dinero.
    AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST.
   (i knew this would come up. so did you)
    Let's talk about him.
    What? Why not? Nothing better to do, am I right?  Of course I am.
 SO basically it has gotten to the point where we can walk around in public holding hands and he puts his arm around me and I've confirmed with him that he doesn't like any girls at his school and I JUST ASGHDGASJDHALSD;K;LJDLHAOUEYORYOU;AHJDBN3I273HEJBJKADBKJBKBCKBAKBCANTCANTCANTCANTCANTCANTCANTCANTCANTCANTCANT
and that's basically it. Good talk.

  SO that gif was next to this one and I just...

Yeh. I'm just gonna stop while I'm ahead.
Mehhhhhhhhhhhhhhh bye.
Squiggs out.



P.s. Gonna start planning out a music post, so be on the watch, dear readers.


Quote by: Ruby Rose, RWBY

what is "RATIONAL" ?

"Lay off your rhetoric, sir, please, your flattery is lost on me."


  Okay, so this is another one of my "life" posts, so brace yourselves. Things have been kind of stressful for my lately, and this would be completely normal, really, if it were different circumstances. But it's been bugging me, even though I'm not really involved. At least, I don't think I am.
   Anyway, recently I've been hearing a lot of junk about my friend, who, let's face it, can be difficult. She can be very difficult. She's a hard-headed, sarcastic, stubborn as hell chick with a horrendous attitude when it comes to lack of sleep and food. She's been like this for as long as I can remember, and I thought people had learned to put up with her after all these years.
      I was wrong.
   Truly, I thought that, after middle school, the drama would finally end, but it's still here, always tugging at the back of everyone's minds. And finally, FINALLY, people are showing their true colors on how they feel about this girl. And I hate the results.
  Most have told me that they're sick of putting up with her, how her sarcasm "hurts their feelings"(-.-), how she's never kind or anything, and how she's a horrible friend. I get the feeling that, from what I've heard, I'm being expected to choose between her or these other people. That, or I should feel stupid for being friends with her.
  Well, guys, guess what. THIS IS STUPID. When did this become such a big deal? She's one person, she can't ruin your life, and besides, I don't think she cares to. No offense or anything, but she barely gives a crap what other people think of her.
  While I'm at it, let me tell you something. Yes, maybe you have your feelings hurt when she's joking around, but she has feelings too, and I bet talking crap about her behind her back hurts those feelings a teensy weensy bit. 
  Sorry, but I'm not choosing between anyone. I don't care if you hate her, that doesn't give me a reason not to be friends with her. That doesn't mean I can't be friends with you, but if my being friends with her bugs you, then sorry, but too bad. If that kind of thing bothers you, that's really childish. This entire ordeal is childish.
  If it clears anything up, I have something to say about it. Yes, everything I said about her being stubborn, cranky and sarcastic is true, but that's what makes her amazing. She doesn't pretend to be kind when she doesn't want to be kind, she doesn't create that constant facade of a normal nice girl who's always polite and junk, she's just herself. And she's my best friend. Yes, she's sarcastic. Yes, she can be mean about it. Would you like to know why? Most likely, it's not because she hates you. This may be the case, since she doesn't particularly like a certain many people, but she's trying to protect herself.
   She doesn't want to be hurt, and I believe she lives in constant fear of it. So she puts up walls that make her emotionless to what other people think, and I don't think she can trust anyone. One really can't ever trust another, because anyone can be a traitor. Anyone can say that one thing, spread that one rumor, and a friendship can be lost. She's had so many people like this in her life, people that pretend to be her friend and then completely blow her off, so please, go easy on her. As one of the people she can always trust, I can't, and won't, be separated from her.
  She's my best friend. She's a good person, and yet you guys make her out to be this horrible person who can't have any friends. What do you think she views you as when you think like that?
  Please let all of this go. Because, trust me, when you hurt her, you hurt me as well. If you want to do that, fine, but know that if she goes down, I'm going with her. It's your choice.
  It's a simple choice, at that.




Song: What Is Rational?    Artist: Hot Hot Heat

Young Blood;

"Put on your war paint..."

           If there's one thing I hate, and know that I despise a great many things, it's transferring schools mid-semester. I already hate transferring schools, which I've had to make a habit of due to my dad's work, but doing it in September is worse. I don't even see the point of it, as I take extra classes online, mostly because of what I miss moving from school to school, but my dad insists. I'm pretty sure it's part of his curriculum of screwing up my life. And no matter how much I argue, I'm always right back here, sitting in an office chair waiting to be handed my schedule. I sigh and hug my backpack to my chest, resting my chin on it's button-clad fabric.
    "Miss Kiselev?"
I look up at the secretary standing in one of the doorways and slowly raise my hand. She smiles mechanically and hands me a sheet of paper. "Here's your schedule, locker number and password. Don't lose it, now."
 "Thanks," I mutter, not really meeting her eyes.
"Do you need a guide to help you to class?"
  I glance at the sheet. "I think I'll be alright."
With that, I leave the office, letting the door shut soundlessly behind me. I wander the halls, looking for the room my third period class is in. Luckily, my flat-soled converse make almost no noise at all against the floor, making no echo to float down the eerily comatose halls. When I make it to the room, I peer through the thin rectangular window set into the wooden door. I see the teacher, a man probably in his early thirties, talking at the board. Not good. I hate disrupting the class. Not because of the fact I'm disrupting, but because when I do all eyes are on me. Taking a deep breath that suffocates me anyway, I turn the knob and open the door.
  Bam. As if a bomb goes off when I open the door, every head turns to me. The teacher, Mr. Penman, looks surprised for a moment before softening and asking, "Are you our new transfer student?"
Trying not to look at the rest of the class, I nod and hand him the pass the office secretary had given me before I left. He looks at it, then smiles and says, "Welcome to Brierfield, Miss Kiselev. You can have a seat over there by Mr. Kendrick."
 I face the class and panic for a moment before a boy near the back of the class raises his hand in a sort of half-wave. I don't look at his face, only clutch the corner of my schedule and make my way down the aisle to the desk I'm assigned. I sit, and finally the weight of the eyes on me lifts, and I take a deep breath and try to let the fluttering in my stomach settle down. Mr. Penman has started teaching the class, informing at me without turning from the board that the class is studying the fourth chapter of a book called The Great Gatsby. I feel a wave of relief when I realize I had read that book already, having read many of the books typically read by high school classes. I don't have the book with me, but after hearing a bit of the teacher's lesson, I realize where they are in the book and know what's going to happen next, so I relax in my seat and study my schedule. I glance from it to the clock and back, and I notice that there's only five minutes left of third period. I sigh softly at the fact that I'll have to do all of that again fourth period, then fifth, and so on.
 Someone taps on my desk, and I look to see the boy Mr. Penman had identified as "Kendrick". He smiles at me, and I think I try to mirror it but I'm not sure how it looks because the nervous butterflies are back. He points to my schedule, and I realize he wants to see it. I slide it to him, and he lays it on his desk and reads it. I focus on my desk for the last few minutes of class. When the bell rings, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and get up from my desk. The Kendrick boy does at the same time, handing me my schedule.
  "Alright, you win the prize of 'most difficult names'," he says, still smiling. My face feels hot, but I manage to ask, "Why's that?"
 He points to my schedule, where the name "Athanasia" is printed. My name. "Oh, that."
  "I don't even know how to pronounce that."
  "It's not that hard. Ah-thahn-ay-see-uh."
  He raises an eyebrow at me, and I shrug. "My dad calls me Sia."
  His smile widens. "Much easier."
  He holds out his hand. "Colin Kendrick."
  I manage a wholehearted smile and take it. "Sia Kiselev."
  He shakes his head, still smiling. "That's one crazy name. Anyway," he starts toward the door, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. I find myself following close behind him, "We actually have a few classes together, including fourth period. I can walk you there, if you want, and show you around the rest of the school."
  We're in the hallway now, and he's turned to face me, that never-faltering smile still on his lips. He has nice, thin lips, and dark blue eyes widened under black shaggy hair. He's a good foot taller than I, but that's not surprising since I'm generally short for my age. I give him a small smile and say, "Sure."
  He gives a small breath of happy laughter and tosses his head, motioning me to follow him. I trot the short distance to his side and match his pace as he starts a conversation about me.
 Where am I transferring from? A public school in Michigan.
 Why the sudden transfer? My dad's work causes us to move a lot.
 What's my dad do? He's a sort of scientist. Computer science or something like that.
 I don't know what kind for sure? He doesn't like to talk about his work, and he's busy a lot, so when we do talk, that's not the desired subject to talk about.
Colin thinks about that for a moment, then says, "I know how that is."
 I cock my head at him, but he just continues with questions.
 "Do you do any sports?"
 I shrug. "I'm good at sports, I guess, but I don't participate in any teams. I like watching."
 "Sweet!" He says, grinning, "Maybe you can come see my baseball game Thursday? It's one of the last ones of the season."
 "Sure, I'll try to make it."
     He stops in front of a classroom and bids me enter. I smile and walk past him, and I take a look around for two empty seats. There, two rows back, near the window. I motion for Colin to follow me and weave my way through the desks before taking a seat. Colin sits to my left, but there's still an empty seat to my right. Colin continues talking to me, but I'm too busy smiling to reply. I feel awesome! I've finally managed to make something of a friend on the first day of school. I laugh at something Colin says before I hear someone move into the desk beside me. I turn and see a boy there, setting his backpack against his seat, and he catches my eye. He nods to me, smiling slightly. Colin leans around me to see the other boy. "Oh, hey Elliot. This is new girl, Sia."
  The boy, Elliot, straightens and holds out his hand to me. "Elliot Hynes."
  Just like with Colin, I took his hand and shook it. "Sia Kiselev."
  He has a nice smile, not constant like Colin, but nice. He let's go and turns to the front of the room, and Colin goes on to tell me that Elliot is on the baseball team like him, then quiets as the teacher walks in. I'm silent through all this because I'm wondering why, when I shook Elliot's hand, he was intent on staring at my arm.



((Author's note: Hey y'all! Just a little something I whipped up when I was bored. Funny that inspiration finally comes at the beginning of the busiest school year ever. >.< but I'm actually having a really good time. It's nice to finally be an upper classman, and going off campus for lunch is thrilling -even if it is only a few minutes down the road to where we eat. Anyway, just a little snippet of a story I intend on continuing :) thanks for reading. Comments are welcome. ))

Numb.

"I've become so numb. I can't feel you there."


     Being totally honest here. I suppose I need to re-think my friends list. I'm not really sure what I expect of other people, of what my future will be. When I think of a friend, I think of someone always there. Loyal, like our ever-present, if constantly annoying, hufflepuff. Why can't everyone be a hufflepuff? There, like, the perfect companion. Loyalty. Is that so hard to come by these days?
      I try so hard to be the person people can go to when they need advice or caring or prayer, and I hate to say it, but what do I get in return? Boring summer days, each one like the last, spent watching TV or writing stupid posts, or wandering around outside until I get sunburned. I talk to people, talk about all the things we can do this summer, and yet none of it ever happens. I know I won't be going to Wet-N-Wild with that person, or having a movie marathon with another, and at this point, I don't even know if I'll be able to celebrate his birthday with him. 
   I'm tired of being 'that person', only talked to when someone is sad or bored. I'm tired of being ignored when I really want to talk about something but don't know how to bring it up, afraid of losing a friend or something. 
     At first, I thought the title of this post was just random, but it isn't. I really do feel numb. I realized that about ten minutes ago, when I cut myself for the first time. Now I'm crying, not really from the pain, but cos there is none. I don't want to waste my time anymore, not with people who only want me when they need me. 
Honestly, I don't even think anyone is going to read this, or if they do, even get what I'm talking about or feel what I'm feeling. I don't expect anyone to pity me. I'm only writing this because it's better than thinking about it over and over. And keeping it locked in my head or my computer does nothing. It's only when I publish it that it really makes me feel better. 
    I'm just sickened by everything around me, including myself, and it pains me to know that there's nothing I can do about it. It makes me wonder how much a difference a little hufflepuff can really make. 
~Liz

Far From Farewell...

Hey, y'all. Just a quick little post here. Not that it really matters, but I'll be at camp for the next week, starting tomorrow, so I won't be posting anything. Hopefully I can think of some new stories to post when I get back. Anyway, my boredom has increased from Photoshop to coloring (yes, it's that bad). But I'm pretty proud of the one I've been working on. I haven't finished yet, cos I'm really nervous about their eyes. I may put it on here when I finish. But here's one that I worked on for a while, and I like it a lot.
Before:

After I got my hands on it:

As you can see, this is what I've been doing for the past week. I need serious help. >.>

Love you guys, 

and see ya next week

maybe

RANDOM PHOTOSHOP

This is what happens when you leave me alone with my laptop.
Be warned.
Probably more to come, cos I'm really bored.

shadowing SUNS;

"Who would dare to love again,

if all cuts and every burn should awaken

and open wide the wounds again."

           There were two of them, one boy the perfect replica of the other. Both had the same pitch black hair and striking green eyes, the same narrow, beautiful features. And both were fawned over by their father. Just before he died, he split the kingdom in two, and allowed each boy to rule over his own half. Excited, the boys rode off in their own direction, both eager to scout what their father had given them. 

     The eldest brother was thrilled at his findings. He gained rolling hills and streams, and prosperous villages filled with fascinating creatures. The people of his kingdom accepted him with open arms, and built him a tall castle of pale white crystal. The brother was glad to rule over them.

    The younger brother, on the other hand, rode until it grew dark, but he still remained in the thick wood that occupied his half of the kingdom. When it finally opened, the brother saw dark, soaring mountains, a black ocean, and various plantations harvested by strange beings. They called themselves elves, fairies, demons, and they, too, welcomed him happily. They taught the boy, who had grown up in the safety of his father's castle, how to harvest crops and climb trees. They built him a huge castle of black stone, set into the side of the mountain. Over time, they taught him their tricks, how they would often deceive those who dwelled in his brother's neighboring kingdom by stealing crops and material, like the glowing crystal they cherished so much. The boy was fascinated and hung on their every word. 

         There passed some time that neither brother spoke to the other, for they were too busy ruling   their new kingdoms, and trouble spread in areas between the two lands. The dwellers of the first  kingdom told the eldest brother that those in the neighboring kingdom had stolen a great supply of  their precious crystal with no intention of trading or buying for it. This, of course, was the truth,   and he believed them. The younger brother knew of the trouble as well, for it was his plan to steal the crystal in the first place. Seeing that it would help his own kingdom, he felt so sympathy for the loss his brother's land suffered. 

       Tension laced between the kingdoms, and, fearing unbalance, the eldest brother requested a meeting with the younger. Out of sheer curiosity of what would unfold, the younger agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~^~~~~~~~~~~

   He was early.

     He sat on his horse on the stretch of dirt road that ran between his kingdom and his brother's. On his right, a long plain was splayed under the dark night sky, and tall stalks of corn reached up towards the stars. On his left, a barrier of trees rose and thickened like a wall that ran for miles and miles, and  their branches reached further than the corn stalks, but still could not catch the sky. The brother was not looking right or left; he was staring straight, right up the dirt road toward the enormous castle that sat there. It wasn't long deserted, yet cobwebs gathered in the corners of the dark windows. Vines crept along the side wall in thick tangles. He had lived there not four years ago, but the sight gave the boy chills. 

         "Brother."

     The boy turned his head to see a figure on a horse approaching. His older brother was clothed in fine clothes of white, gold and green. On his head he wore a golden crown not unlike the one their father used to boast. 

         The younger brother nodded in response and greeting to his elder. "Brother."

    He had hoped to see something. After not meeting for years, he had expected his older brother to be glad to see him, but he couldn't spot even a ghost of a smile. Then he cursed himself silently for being disappointed. He guided his horse over to the wall of trees.

     "Cyprian-" his older brother started, as if he feared the younger planned to leave. But      Cyprian only slid down from his horse and tied the reigns to one of the lower branches. He turned back to his brother and straightened his cloak, which hung like a black blanket around his body. "You wanted to discuss something?"

       Cyprian crossed his arms as he waited for his brother to respond. The older boy climbed down from his saddle, but held the reigns in his hand. The horse made no move to leave her master's side. 

      "Yes," he answered, "I'd like to address the thefts occurring in my kingdom, the same thefts that I'm told are caused by your villagers."

    Cyprian thought of how to respond to this. "Are your people suffering from these thefts?"

   "Are you saying your villagers aren't responsible?"

   "I'm not saying that at all," the younger brother smiled slightly, "simply that if they do not suffer, the crime isn't too great."

       "You're wrong," the older boy said. 

Cyprian's smile faded. His brother was serious, he knew, and couldn't know that it was he behind the attacks. 

      "What do you want me to do, Stephen? Hold a hanging?" He was joking, of course, for he would do no such thing. He was appalled when the older boy replied,

          "Perhaps it would be best."

   Cyprian met his brother's hard gaze. "Stephen, what a thing to say! I've never known you to so easily condemn a man."

      Stephen remained cool. "As I have never known you to host a den of demons. But I'm afraid we are both aware of new knowledge."

     Cyprian scowled. "Well, perhaps my people would not have to steal if yours would not deny our trades."

     "They deny trades because they don't care to barter with trickster fairies. There is no right to the thieving."

    "My people need to survive! Why else do you think father gave me the land? I'm to ensure their safety and health."

    Stephen looked over to the castle and mumbled, "I wish he'd never given it to you in the first place."

      Cyprian blanched. How could his brother be so selfish? "Why do you say that?"

   Stephen shot his brother a dark look. "Don't you see what's become of you? Father most likely left them to you so you could change them and make them better, but instead you became as bad as they are!"

     Cyprian was shocked at his brother's harsh words, and anger boiled inside of him. "So, do you think your land would be better off without mine?"

     Stephen said nothing, but he didn't need to. Cyprian knew the truth. Scowling, he pulled himself onto his horse and galloped into the trees, his brother left silent and seething behind him. Cyprian rode back to the villages and spoke with his people. He watched them chatter amongst themselves, then, with grand smiles, the fairies and demons taught Cyprian how to make weapons. 

((This is really just something random I came up with to pass the time. I'm not even going to bother reading over it, but yeah. Hope you enjoy.))

WE ArE tHe ReCkLeSs

"And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones.

'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs.

Setting fire to our insides just for fun."

I don't remember a lot of the specifics of how this happened to us. A few things I remember, I guess, but not enough to decipher the cause or even the reason for it. There was nothing different about this day. Absolutely nothing. And I remember just how it started.

I wake early, just as my mother shoves aside the thick curtains and lets in the sunlight, insanely bright despite the thick glass.

"Rise and shine," she says, not exactly the voice of joy. When I don't move, she tugs at my covers, but I hold tightly to them, keeping them up to my neck. 

"Raiden," she scolds, then sighs, "Well, at least I know you're alive. Breakfast will be ready soon. You have to be dressed in time for the line."

I mumble something into my pillow. I wait for the door to close, then I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. After approximately three seconds, the dull cream color grows boring, and I decide getting ready for school may be more enjoyable.

Maybe.

I shrug into dark jeans and slide a violet tank over my head. Deciding that bangles are evil, I strip a thick leather band to each of my wrists. I pull a hairbrush through my through my dark waves of hair until they are at least a little bit bearable before wrapping a strip of leather around the lot. 
"Ray!"
I slide on dark brown boots and sling my shoulder bag across my back. "Coming!"
I bolt out of my bedroom and would've passed right by the kitchen if my mother hadn't yelled, "BREAKFAST FIRST!"
I shove a piece of toast into my mouth and try to ignore the lack of butter. My mother frowns, then goes to the counter and fixes a paper bag for my lunch. "You need to eat more," she states. 
"I eat enough."
She shoves the bag in one of my hands and hands me two pieces of bacon. "Eat."
"I have to go. The lines gonna start anytime now."
I wrap the bacon in a paper towel and slip it into the outside pocket of my shoulder bag. 
Then I grab one of the black cloaks hanging on the wall by the door. They're all the same, and simple, and they cover us from the head to the knee. I pull the hood down so that it covers my forehead, but my mother instantly pushes it aside to kiss my temple. "Have a good day at school."
"I will." 
She smiles at me, then turns, glaring at the empty hallway. "CYRUS! IT'S TIME FOR LINE."
My younger brother instantly emerges from his bedroom and into the kitchen. He grabs breakfast and a paper bag from the counter, then joins me by the door, munching on a strip of bacon as he shrugs his cloak over a black t-shirt and blue jeans. My mother stands watch, hands on her hips. When he's finished the bacon, Cyrus leans in and kisses my mother on the cheek. 
"See ya after school, Ma. Come on, Ray!"
And like that he's out the door, me at his heels. We keep our hoods over our faces as we walk under the long canopy that stretches over the alleys between houses. Cyrus finishes his breakfast and starts to dig into his lunch bag for more food.
"You'll get fat if you eat so much, Cy."
He doesn't look up from his search. "No, I eat food that's healthy for me. If you don't eat, you'll never grow."
I scowl at him. I'm older than him by more than a year, and already he's a foot taller than me. Before I can retaliate, he nudges me and nods to a group of people crowded under one of the larger canopies. "That's your class. You'd better get going."
Before I turn to go, I reach up and pull his hood further over his head. "Be safe," I tell him.
"You too."
I jog over to join my class. My teacher, a thin woman, and looking even thinner in her own cloak, hands me a strip of cloth like the ones we get every morning and afternoon. 
"Form a line, everyone!" She shouts to the class, "Stay behind the person in front of you at all times, and don't remove your blindfold!"
I reach up and tie the fabric over my eyes. I've been doing this for my whole life, ever since I left the neighborhood, and I remember, when I was small, what my mother said when I asked her about them.
"We wear them because the sun is bright, blindingly bright, and we aren't able to look at it, so we cover our eyes."
We cover our eyes. As I walk at a steady pace in line, I see only darkness, feel only a dull heat on my arms and back, but I know there's light surrounding us. 

(I didn't even edit this or read over it, so it's whatever.)
~Squiggs

Come Daydream With Me

         Somewhere far away, in a musky, abandoned old house, a boy plays the piano. The sound coming from the instrument is one you wouldn't expect. The keys have browned. The wood is chipped. The paint is peeling at the corners. But the strings are straight and firm, and their vibrations carry a soft, rich sound as the boy plays. He sits on an old piano bench, and inside the bench lay pile upon pile of forgotten music sheets that have long forgotten young age. They are curled at the edges, as if the corners are trying to reach up, trying to be seen. The boy would see, but he is not playing one of their songs. There's a sheet of music on the podium before him, an unlabeled, author-less piece of work. He plays, gently pressing down on the pedal with his foot, and as he does, the sole of his white converse rub against the rotting wooden floor just under the brass pedal.
           He's watched, but he doesn't notice. He sways in time with the tune, and his eyes drift   peacefully between open and closed. As calloused hands run along pale keys, she watches from the   corner. Thick vines hang above her, creating a shadow over her. It's leaves used to tickle her cheeks, but now she barely notices. She watches the boy with curiosity. She studies him. He looks from his shoes to her own bare feet, pale against the rough wood. She mimics him as he sways, tilting side by side, making her dark hair bounce from shoulder to shoulder. She takes a step towards him, watches him.
     "Hello?"
  He does not stop playing. His fingers don't falter on the keys.
 The girl walks forward, stopping a little ways from him, and repeats, "Hello? Who are you?"
The boy stalls, only slightly, letting his fingers hang over the keys for a split second while he listens.
        Then fingertips and piano keys become one again. The girl, not hearing the music, frowns and draws closer until she's right behind him.
       "Won't you answer me?"
    Leaves fall from a sizable tree branch protruding from the roof above. They land on the ground beside the piano bench and at the girl's feet. The crinkled, dry leaves make a rough sound as they hit the wood.
     And yet the boy plays still.
  The girl chokes back a sob and falls forward, wrapping her arms around the boy's shoulders and resting her head on the back of his neck. "Can't you hear me?"
    The song slows and becomes quiet as the boy begins to play two notes, back and forth, with his left hand. With his right, he tentatively reaches to his shoulder and touches the girl's arm.
     "You're here, aren't you?" He asks, smiling.
       The girl, shocked, draws away from him slowly. The boy doesn't turn around, but puts his other hand to the piano and picks up the pace again. The girl watches for a moment, then smiles, too. She looks at the sheet of music on the podium. Of course, she recognizes it. She'd seen it many times before. She reaches over the boys shoulder and touches the sheet gently. The old, wrinkled paper folds inward slightly at her touch, then resumes it's position. The title and author have faded, but the girl knows the name of the song. After all, it was written for her.
     It's Acacia's song.
  Smiling, the girl wraps her arms back around the boy as he plays. The boy shares the smile with her, but it's a sad smile, for he knows this ghostly presence beside him will disappear when the song ends.

Two More Hours...

Hey.
So, I'm not quite sure how this post will turn out. I'm just kinda....yeh.
HALLO! I'm Liz and I'm going to die today!
Well, most likely. Pops concert is in two hours, and...I don't think it's gonna go too well. We have a bunch of songs and didn't have a lot of time to practice. So I don't think it's going to be as good as Mr. Green thinks it's gonna be. He'll most likely kill us.
But, at least we have like FIVE FREAKING HOURS to practice. Then he plans for the concert itself to be like...two to three hours I think?
Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeegh.
Last night was pretty good. I got to go see Iron Man 3 with Dawson, Nathan, and a bunch of other friends. That was fun. I met a young British gentleman who was...interesting.
Yeh. And I'm kinda depressed, because I actually had the guts to do something and it...didn't happen the way I wanted it to.
I mentioned in another post that my choir is going to perform On My Own from Les Mis, and the first line and the "i love him" part at the end were made into solos, and auditions for that solo were Wednesday. There were, like, seven girls up there already. Page was one of them. At first, I wasn't going to go up. Then, at the last second, I went up.
We had to sing it by ourselves, alone, in front of THE WHOLE FREAKING CHOIR. I was terrified. There were I think four, maybe five girls before me, and the majority of them were so nervous that it they didn't sound as good as they usually do. Page was next to me. She went, then I went.
I just did my best. I kinda zoned out while doing so, and I know I was blushing. I heard whispers around me and from the choir, and I thought it was because I sounded bad. I felt like crying. But I finished and so did the other girls, and I went back to my seat.
Where a bunch of girls were grinning at me.
They said I sounded great!! I'm not even kidding, they were really surprised that I sounded like that! Mr. Green and his assistant were trying to figure out who would get the solo, and it wasn't me. We sang the song again with the girl who did get it, and afterwards, the girls in my section were like "That should have been you, you should have gotten the solo."
I was ecstatic. I never really felt like I fit in there, and now they were cheering me on!
Then Kira came over from her section and just stood there looking at me. I asked her what it was, and she said,
"Like, all the altos think Mr. Green should have given you the solo."
I WAS SPAZZING I WAS SO HAPPY PEOPLE LIKE ME AGHHHHHHH.
But yeh. A 9th grader got it. My mom seemed mad about that. Personally, I think the girl who got it uses too much vibrato, but it's Mr. Green's choice not mine.
And now for GIFs, because GATSBY

Yes Gatsby was brilliant as frick. But

  

 CAN

 WE

 TALK

 ABOUT

 THIS

 MAN

I used to like Captain America.

But then.

Iron Man.

Probably the number one reason I loved Iron Man 3 is that when people talk about Iron Man, they just talk about him being a cheater or something because he only is awesome in his suit, but the third movie was him in the suit and being awesome out of the suit, and I really liked that.

Cuz he's great.

Kay.

I should get ready or something.

Liz out.

Iron Man.

<3

Grace and Choice- Alto's Story (part 2)

I was running.
  The small mud and stone and wood buildings burned and crumbled around me. The air was thick with smoke, and it crept into my lungs. People ran past me, sometimes shoving me, but otherwise paying me no mind.
  Of course they didn't. They never had, so why should it be different this time.
  I didn't care.
  I had to find Etzel.
The thin soles of my boots did little to protect the bottom of my feet from the embers that littered the ground, rekindled by bits of fabric and wood. In the mix of fire and smoke, I couldn't tell where I was in the village. Someone slammed into me, and I was knocked to the ground. Flames licked at my bare arms and neck. To my surprise, a strong grip wrapped around my arm and pulled me to my feet. I looked through bleary, slit eyes to see a middle-aged man glaring at me.
   "Get out of here, kid!" He shouted, then he shoved me away. I caught myself before I fell and broke into a sprint.
   I reached a large gap between two buildings and knew I was on the right track. I ran through a sort of alley of stone houses until I reached a small one made of wood and leafy branches. The left side of branches had caught fire, despite the green still clinging to the freshly-cut limbs. I ran forward and tugged those that have caught fire onto the ground, then I ducked inside the small building.
   "Etzel?" I shouted, even though I had no need to. Against the single mattress in the corner lay Etzel's backup bow and quiver. He hadn't been there, otherwise he would've taken them with him. I snatched up both and ran back outside.
   People were still running about. I looked around and couldn't see Etzel among them.
   I didn't understand what's happening.
I slung the quiver over my head and ran off into the forest, to where I knew Etzel would be under these circumstances.
The air was a slight bit clearer here, even though a cluster of trees had begun to catch fire. I coughed into my arm and ran, keeping a tight hold on Etzel's bow.
Then my feet left the ground. My small form was lifted into the air by the quiver on my back. I kicked uselessly at my attacker, who turned me around to face him. Dark brown eyes, not unlike my own, glared back at me. Perfect teeth were clenched behind perfect lips that lay under a perfect nose in the middle of his perfect face. It was then that I knew.
Angel.
I kicked again, luckily catching his shoulder. It didn't faze him, but I was able to push myself up into the air and twist out of his grip. Unfortunately, my plan had some flaws.
I hit the ground and rolled a couple times before coming to a stop. I couldn't get back up. The quiver dug into my shoulder blade, and the bow lay useless five feet from where I was.
The angel stood over me with a thick-bladed sword in his hand, poised above me. I stared at it, expecting for tears to well up in my eyes or something, or expecting to hear myself scream. But I didn't do anything. I just stared.
Then I heard the whistle of an arrow being loosened.
The angel crumpled in front of me, an arrow sticking from his shoulder. Etzel stood behind him, bow raised. He lowered it and came towards me.
Etzel grabbed my hand. "Come on!!"
We ran until we reached the stream. Etzel kept a tight hold on my hand. When I looked at him, I actually saw fear in his eyes.
But that fear was mixed, just a bit, with amusement.
We plunged into the river and started to swim across. I was a bit behind Etzel - he was always a better swimmer than I- when he suddenly grabbed my arm and shoved me under the water.
Surprised, I was taken by the current. Etzel, still gripping my arm, was taken with me. I flailed in the water until I desperately needed air and, pulling Etzel with me, kicked furiously until I found the surface again.  It wasn't til then that I noticed my friend was limp.
"Etzel?" I gasped as soon as I got air. The current was strong, and it shoved us into one of the large rocks along the river. I tried to get Etzel up onto it. He was quiet, and his eyes were closed.
"Etz-" A thread of scarlet trickled down the rock and into the river.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. Smiled faintly. Then closed his eyes again.
That was all. No last words. He was gone.
Forever.
I stayed there for a while, pinned between the crushing waves and the boulder, clinging to my dead friend.
No.
Why.
I open my eyes, carved stone filling my vision. It's dark here, but it's dry, unlike the river.
I reach to my side. My slingshot is gone. No shocker there.
The stone wall curves in a crescent moon shape, the rest cut off from the hall by a set of iron bars. Through the bars, a pale golden light shines, just enough to illuminate the corridor.
It was a dream, I realize. Nothing more.
The past. 
Where am I?
This is a cell.
Why...
What did I do?
Remembering Etzel's words, I reach into my pocket and find it to be stuffed with small stones. I breathe a sigh of relief.
I'll be fine.
I guess.

Grace and Choice- Alto's Story (part 1)

       "Careful," the voice beside me said. "Pull back slowly, in case you decide to screw up and hurt yourself."
   I bit the inside of my cheek, a habit I'd had since I was six years old. I kept my eye on my target, which happened to be a fat lizard sunning itself on a nearly-submerged rock in the middle of the river. I pinched the leather strap between my thumb and forefinger and pulled back on the rubbery string to the point where it was stretched from my hand to the bottom of my chin. The rock hidden within the leather was sharp; I could tell because it was coming close to tearing through the leather and poking my thumb. But I knew it wouldn't do that. Etzel made this slingshot, which means it had to be fool proof.
  I took a deep breath and heard the boy beside me do the same. Then I released the rock, and it sailed across the river and hit the lizard hard in the side. The reptile, still alive and nearly unhurt, was startled enough to fall into the water and rush away with the current.
  I didn't care that my prey was lost.
  I hit it. I actually hit it,  and on my first try.
Etzel was as surprised as I was. I turned to look at him, and he was ecstatic. His eyes were alight with joy, something I hadn't seen much in the past two weeks I'd been with him.
  "Nice one!" he exclaimed, "and here I thought you'd be a screw up!"
I would have responded to this, probably with some sort of witty retort, but I was too busy smiling. I looked down at the slingshot in my hand.
  "It's pretty neat," I said. My eyes shifted to the bow that was strapped across Etzel's back, "But I still think learning archery would be more useful."
The boy shook his head and rested a protective hand on the string of the bow that stretched along his chest.      
"Nope, this thing ain't a toy. It's a weapon, one that can kill people. Like me," he shook his head again finished with, "You ain't touching it."
     "I know it's not a toy!" I argued. I didn't see how it was fair of him to have a bow and me not to. Etzel was twelve, just a year older than I was. Why should he have gotten the good weapons while I was stuck with a lousy slingshot?
Etzel started to walk away, and I followed him at a slow trot, trying to keep up but not wanting to be right on his heels.
     "Did you start with a slingshot?" I questioned. "Like I am?"
He nodded and took a sharp turn, following the slightly faded path that lead back to our 'campsite'.
      "Yeah, I started with it, and was stuck with it for a good six months. I hated the thing, but I would still choose it over a sword."
    "Why's that?"
Etzel stopped and, in one swift movement, pulled the bow from his back and had an arrow notched. He let it fly into a crowd of leafy limbs twenty feet from where we stood. I heard the arrow hit something, and down from the cluster of leaves dropped a fat bird of some kind.
     "Distance, for one," Etzel said, walking to retrieve the bird. "And, 'specially with a slingshot, you can stay hidden somewhere, like in a tree or somethin', and pick off the enemy one by one, soldier by soldier, just like that. One of the downsides, though-"
Etzel leaned down and pinned the bird to the ground with his knee. With his right hand, he jerked the arrow free from the birds chest and wiped the tip on his pants. "If you don't retrieve your arrows, you could run out at any time."
    I stood watching, silent. He looked up at me and grinned.
    "Don't you worry, though, Alto."
He tied a bit of string around the birds neck and, holding the other end of the string, swung the fowl over his shoulder. He put his other arm around me and we continued our walk to the camp.
    "You'll be fine with that sling, s'long as you always remember to keep a pocketful of rocks."

Grace and Choice- Nessa's Story (part 2)

    Our attack failed. We were pushed back far past the inside borders of Gladren. In a matter of days, the war had migrated from the fields of Hynix to the main sanctuary of Gladren.
      The battle is never-ending. I cut down one Elsan and another takes its place. Blood stains the stone floor and walls around me. The sanctuary walls rise up almost thirty feet before bending into arching beams that stretch to connect the walls. Even now the Hynix creatures with wings fight angels, twisting throughout the beams like they are threading yarn.
   Rank after rank of Elsan soldiers spill like waves into the sanctuary. Out from the black and brown, glints of an angel's silver armor can be seen, but it's rare. We will be overpowered.
  Will the leaders of Elsan really allow this? Even though we are a threat, will they really wipe us out?
I cut down my opponent and spread my wings, lifting myself into the air to get a better look at the approaching ranks. The black and brown spreads through the grey and silver like mud in clear water. While I'm hovering fifteen feet from the fighting, a winged Hynix dweller sees me and charges. He's mostly human, and has large feathered wings resembling an eagle's. In his hands he wields a long halberd.
Uh oh.
I block his attack with my spear, then shove the shaft of my weapon into his rib cage. I hear bones breaking but don't wait long enough to make sure. As he's doubled over in pain, I bring the blade of my spear along the bones holding his left wing and hear another loud crack. The wing crumples, and, with a cry of pain, the creature falls into the chaos below.
I focus again on the oncoming army and notice a dark navy in the midst of the dull colors. It's a man, from the looks of it, wearing a long robe. A tall hood hides his face. I watch as he comes next to what I believe is one of the Elsan generals. He leans close to say something to him, and the general nods.
Something is wrong.
The hooded man continues walking. He weaves easily through the crowd, and no angel or Elsan dares to try to touch him or strike him down. As he gets closer to me, I notice there is the smallest of smiles on his face, a calm smile. Maybe, even, a sad smile.
He stops and looks around at everything. His eyes pass over me, meet mine for a moment, then continue grazing the battle. I fly closer to the wall, away from most of the fighting, and continue to watch him, perplexed by his calm actions. Finally, he raises a hand and pushes his hood back. Shaggy black hair spills over his shoulders, framing a tanned face and deep blue eyes.
Then, he speaks.
"Angels!" He shouts, "Creatures of Gladren!"
The noise around the sanctuary becomes hushed as the opposing forces actually stop fighting to hear the man speak.
"You know who we are," he says, "We are Hynix, and we are Elsan. Our worlds and yours have lived in peace for thousands of years! That bond was strained when you began to threaten us, and broke when you attacked and raided two villages in Hynix. "
He looks around again, as if he's trying to meet the gaze of every angel in the room. His eyes hold little malice.
"You are a threat we can't afford to have!" he shouts, "We hope that we can again gain your trust, and you ours. But for now, we must quiet the threat that stands before us."
He raises a hand. As he does, the sleeve of his navy robe slides down to his elbow.  Hanging from a silver cord wrapped a few times around his wrist is a dark blue, sphere shaped gem.
No.
"I am the High Mage, Airon!" the man shouts, "and I'm sorry to have to do this to you."
I try to rise up into the air, try to get away, but one of the Elsan soldiers near me hits me with the shaft of his ax, slamming me into the wall. I open my eyes and see the Mage's hand wrapped around the gem, his eyes shut. I even think I saw a tear slide down his cheek. Brilliant blue light fills my vision.
Then everything fades into black.

Grace and Choice- Nessa's Story (part 1)

A happy- at least, that's how they seemed right then, under the circumstances- couple stood beside each other. The man had his arm around the woman's waist, and she leaned into him comfortably. They stood smiling down into a carved wood cradle that was gently rocked from side to side, being pushed by the man's other hand. Inside the cradle, wrapped in layers of thin, soft blankets, lay an infant girl. Small wisps of blonde hair curled around her ears and atop her small head. She looked up at the man and woman with the largest blue eyes the man claimed he'd ever seen. The woman laughed and pretended the man had insulted her. She reached into the cradle and scooped up the small girl. As she did, the blankets fell away, revealing pale feathered wings protruding from the infant's thin nightgown, wings like her mother and father's. The woman brought her close and tucked the child's head under her chin.
"My little Nessa," the woman whispered.
The man wrapped his arms around the two of them, and they stood like that for some time.
    This was my favorite memory.
I stood away from the family, in the shadows of the small room. There was a time when these happy families existed, and war was scarce, sometimes unheard of. But angels have always been a threat to the other creatures of these worlds. There can never be true peace.
I stared at the woman's face and watched a tear slide down her cheek. I stood silent, unemotional. I mouthed the words as the woman spoke again.
"My sweet, darling girl."
My face remained stiff, a small frown on my lips. I'd seen this scene too often to cry every time.
"NESSA!"
I blinked, and I was back. I was not startled to see my rank leader's face inches from my own.
"Daydreaming?" he questioned with a snarl.
I smirked. "Always."
His brow furrowed. "You don't get payed to get lost in your own mind."
"I don't get payed at all."
He grunted. "Servitude to the Elders is enough, isn't it?
Sure it is. Cuz my whole point of life is to die for a bunch of old people.
The rank leader shoved me backward a bit, trying to steer me toward the large stone wall beyond the maze of red and blue tents. "Get to your post. The Elsan army isn't far away. We need you to be ready for anything."
I resisted spitting at him and started the long walk to the wall.
Almost three years of this, and I'm still being treated like a rookie. 
I understood that with a power like mine, others like me were needed on the battlefield. With us, the angels held the advantage.
I looked back to make sure the rank leader had turned away, then I broke into a jog in the other direction, running parallel to the wall instead of towards it. I cut through the parade of tents, trying to get to one of the old watchtowers.
We were in Hynix then, just at the edge of it. Gladren was just a ways away, and that was why this next battle was so serious. If the Elsan army pushed us back our own land anymore than they already had, then Gladren would be in danger. The Elders would be in danger.
I climbed the stone steps to the watchtower and burst through the empty archway. Immediately, cold air hit my face, relieving after the heat of the crowd below.
"Nessa!"
It was Azreal on watch. The young warrior threw me a glare when I smiled at him.
"What?" I asked as innocently as I could.
His glare remained. "You're post is out on the wall, not here."
I tossed a thick blonde braid over my shoulder and fluttered my wings.
"Come on, I'm curious. I can't see far from down on the wall. I have to know what's going on."
"Nessa," he warned, but I ignored him and instead stared out over the tops of trees. A few plumes of smoke far in the distance were signs of where the Elsan army was.
"They're close," Azreal observed, following my gaze. I simply smiled.
"What do you think?" I asked, "Do you think we'll win, or the Elsans?
Azreal looked at me, looked at cocky, overconfident, courageous me, and said, "I truly don't know."
I simply laughed at his honesty.

Grace and Choice- Tane's Story (part 2)

 Four weeks after that, the drafting began. My father and brother were sent to serve in the army that consisted of both Hynix and Elsan men, wellborns, and various other creatures fit to fight against the angels. The war only last a few years, but it felt like centuries to me, who had to stay home with my mother and younger sister. I was going to be drafted when I turned sixteen, but the leader of our village wouldn't allow it, and hid me and a few others away when members of the Elsan military came to round up new soldiers.
     "Even the bravest of warriors as young as you have a slim chance in coming out of this battle alive," he'd told us as we huddled under the sanctuary, "There are far greater destinies for you children than dying in a war against angels."
      It was in the year after that the angels surrendered and the war finally ended. We were told that, frozen in stone, the angels wouldn't be a threat to us. It wasn't until a few months after that they started the 'awakening'.
     "The angels can become amazing allies for us," the Elsan military generals said when they told our village the news, "If we wake them at a slow pace, they might begin to trust us and we might begin to trust them."
     "Trust angels?" My brother had muttered from beside me, "Impossible."
Silently, I agreed with him. From what I'd seen, I knew the angels could never be our allies.
     The school I attended stopped teaching regular academics and we began to learn how to wake angels from their sleep. From the spell that the mage Airon cast, only the sons of the warriors in that war could wake angels, so my class was relatively small. It was just me and two other boys whose fathers were able to fight in the war. The lessons were simple and, in my mind, completely pointless, and I longed to learn important things in the classroom beside ours. Despite our protests, the Elsan military made it a priority that we continued in our small class. I didn't care much, until one day my father came to me and told me that I was to be transferred to Elsa with the rest of the Hynix wakers. He told me that my mother already knew, but commanded me not to tell my brother and sister. He feared that my brother would do something rash if he found out. I nodded simply, but still, I did not understand why I had to go. The military had enough boys already. Even so, two weeks later, I said goodbye to my mother and father, then went to see my siblings. I hugged my sister, which is not an odd thing, because I hugged her quite often then, but this time she seemed to notice something was wrong, and looked up at me quietly when I pulled away. Then it was my brother's turn. I stood in front of him a bit awkwardly before holding out my hand to him. He stared at it for a moment before gripping it and pulling me to him. "I know," he whispered in my ear. I pulled away, stunned. Was I that obvious?
     "Don't worry," he said, "You won't be going alone." He tossed me a small smile, and only later did I learn that he had joined the Elsan army. During a recess at the new school I began to attend in Elsa, I went to the military barracks that resided not far from the academy and found him.
     "Why did you join?!" I asked in a hushed whisper so no one around would here. "You hate the Elsans and what they believe, so why agree to become one of them?"
He smiled at me and said, "We protect the Wakers, so now I know I can protect you."
And he did. Until my mother fell ill four months ago, and he went back to Hynix to help my father and sister take care of her.
It's been two years since the end of the war, and every since then, I've been training to become a Waker. I'm nineteen now, and I've almost finished my training. All I have left is the final exam. And what do I do for this?
    I have to use my gained knowledge to wake an angel.

Grace and Choice- Tane's Story- Part 1

Tane Chrissali was straight. <3 Bailey  I was fourteen when the war reached the edge of our land, but my father says that the threat hung over us for much longer than that. He told me tales of the angels and their cruelty, but I never thought that they would come this far to gain power. Not until that day, anyway, and I remember it perfectly.
    I was jogging through the woods, easily enough to keep an eye on the hoof prints littering the wet dirt below my feet, but fast enough to stay close behind my prey. I looked up and smiled as I realized how close the creature I was hunting was to my homemade trap. What would Jaden think when he saw me trap my first catch! I reached for the hunting knife I kept at my waist and pulled it from its thin leather sheath, then burst through a wall of tree limbs into the clearing where I'd set up the trap. I was surprised and disappointed when I saw that it wasn't a deer in my trap; it was a young satyr girl. Her left hoof was caught in a tight knot of rope while the rest of her body was under a tangle of net. Her hands pulled at the rope, but she stopped when she saw me. Her eyes landed on the knife in my hand, and she bit her lip and fearfully pressed her back against the large rock I'd arranged my trap along. Then-
     "You moron."
I turned as my older brother pushed his way through the brush, knocking me gently on the head as he past me. "You followed the wrong prints."
    "What?" I asked. "But you said hooves were-"
    "A satyr's hoof has a deeper, slimmer groove than a deer's. You have to remember that when hunting."
He reached the young satyr girl and gently cut her free from the netting and rope. She looked at me warily, then cast him a grateful nod before disappearing into the trees.
    I kept my eyes on my mud-coated boots as my brother walked towards me. "Sorry," I said simply. I heard him chuckle and he tussled my shaggy black hair. "Don't fret, little brother," he joked, "it was a well-set trap.'
I smiled up at him and he draped his arm across my shoulders. Then he looked up as a strong wind shifted the air around us.
    "Jaden?" I asked, "What is it?"
His eyes were on the sky. I followed his gaze and saw a deer <3 Mary dark shape resembling a flock of birds. They began to descend.
    "Brother?"
He put a hand on my shoulder and shoved me toward the edge of the clearing. "Get back to the house, Tane."
    "But-"
I watched him draw the long sword he had strapped across his back. My breath caught as I saw this. I'd only ever known my brother to unsheathe that sword when he thought he was in danger. He turned and looked at me. "Go, Tane."
      I ducked under the shade of the trees and sprinted towards our home. What could be coming at us now? And why would they come after our village? We were far from a pretentious threat. My breathing became ragged as I ran as fast as I could, my only thoughts being on the command my brother gave me. Get home, warn the villagers, and try to keep our family safe. I stopped suddenly as a dark shadow ran along the branches arching above me. I drew my knife. The branches rustled and leaves showered over me, then a large creature came through the limbs and landed in front of me. I knew what it was at once. The large white-feathered wings proved it's being. But the rest was like nothing I had imagined. When my father described them to me, I pictured them to be dark, evil creatures, the kind that you would know by how they looked that they were cruel. But this was not how I imagined them.
      This was a male soldier, and it pained me to say he looked almost human. His face was long, with a pointed chin, bare, not even a hint of stubble. Thin lips were set under a ski-slope nose, which rested between two piercing green eyes. Long locks of golden blond hair hung in wavy curls around his forehead. His ears seemed almost pointed, not unlike an elf's. He looked down, probably because he was a good three feet taller than I. Then I knew what my father had told me wasn't a lie. The angel's eyes were filled with pure hatred. It had a long weapon in its left hand, almost like a spear but with four tips arranged in a diamond shape set at the end. He gripped the shaft with both hands and raised it to strike me down. I held up my arms in retaliation, but was pulled aside and shoved to the ground. I shut my eyes and held my breath, waiting for death to take me. Then I felt a hand on my arm, pulling me to my knees. I opened my eyes.
     "Come on!" My brother urged, tugging at my forearm. I looked on the ground and snatched up my knife before I let him pull me to my feet. I then followed my brothers gaze to the same angel as before, but this time it was lying on its side, blood pouring from a wound in its chest. I looked at my brother and noticed that the tip of his sword was also red with blood.
The angel moved a little, showing that he was still alive. Then he fixed a glare on my brother and I.
     "Filthy...Wellborns," he spat.
My brothers grip tightened on my shoulder, and when I looked at his hand, I saw that his knuckles were white.
    "Why are you attacking our village?" Jaden asked.
The angel said nothing at first, then looked at me and held my gaze. "The end is coming. Only one of us can survive, so Gladren is getting a head start."
     "Why Hynix? We're not a threat to angels."
     The angel stopped speaking then, and instead looked down at his chest, where the torn skin was beginning to mend itself. My brother swore and raised his sword, but not before turning me away. I heard a sickening crunch and was suddenly grateful for the mercy my brother had displayed by making me turn my back.
     "Come on," he said then, "There are more. We have to get back to the village."
 

Struggling Against the Tide

Hey. I've been playing around with the tool bar. Fair warning, this is one of those rant posts. Originally, I made this blog for two reasons: as part of my Honors Creative Writing class and to post fun stories. Lately, I've only been holding up half of that plan.
I'm sure none of you are particularly overjoyed at my rants. So you don't have to read this, if you don't want to. I just find that writing it down is better than resorting to something worse.
And this post is somewhat different. It's not as much a rant as it is a distress call.
This past week has been...really bad. You know it's gotten bad when the only thing you look forward to is for your teacher to put into Powerschool the best grade you've gotten in math all year.  But the worst of it began Friday night at a friends house, where I, like the idiot I am, dropped my iPhone into the toilet.
I'm surprised at how quickly I acted. Immediately the phone was back in my hand, and I was shaking the water out and drying it off as best I could. Minutes later the phone was in a bag of white rice.
It was in the water for no more than five seconds. So why does it still not work?
I was freaked about that. Instead of hiding it, like I told myself to do, I told my dad. The phone is still in the rice, and we haven't tried turning it on yet.
That's not all that happened, though.
Saturday, around 3 or 4 pm. I was at a birthday party (yes, I still go to those), atop a blow-up slide. There were, I don't know, maybe six girls up there. Maybe seven, I'm not exactly sure. From where I was, a little less than halfway down the slide, I couldn't see the ladder because of the separator between it and the slide.
I'm still not certain why it happened.
There were a lot of girls up there. It was too heavy.
It wasn't held down quite enough.
It was too windy.
It was on a hill.
It doesn't matter, it still fell.
I was smiling. I remember that I stopped smiling as it started to fall. I thought,
"it's not a big deal, it happens. We'll be okay."
As it fell, I saw the sky, then the bushes with pink and purple flowers on them. I didn't close my eyes. I was too afraid to do that.
I remember being airborne, for maybe one or two seconds. I had just had my hand around Lee's ankle. I remember. Me and Katelyn were trying to pull her down the slide with us. I don't recall letting go. But now I had nothing to hold on to, and no one to hold onto me. Then, I hit the ground.
It was dark at first. Very dark. Then I saw the blue and yellow of the blow-up.
I hurt a bit.
I was against, almost on top of someone- Kira. I rolled off of her, trying to give her space; there wasn't much of that. There was an opening in front of us, but the blow-up hadn't finished flipping. The rest fell, blocking the light. A little showed from the yellow net behind us, but it was almost covered because it was against the grass. My claustrophobia set it then.
I thought a lot of things.
We're going to run out of air. We're going to die.
It fell...it really fell. 
Is someone already dead.
I was too scared to cry. This happened in seconds. As the blow-up was almost done flipping, I could feel it behind me, pressing against my neck and back, pushing me forward, almost on top of the other girls. I looked around and saw sunlight through a space where two sides of the blow-up met.
I heard the other girls talking, yelling, almost. I saw Katelyn crawling through the space. Kira was still beside me, and so was Allie. I had to get out so they could have room to follow. I was on my knees, so I half-crawled, half-walked to the space and squeezed out.
Katelyn was already out there, sitting on the ground. She was laughing, but I knew she did that when she was nervous or scared or something. She knew this was serious.
I looked back at the blow-up that lay upside down on the grass. Kira emerged, followed by Allie. She was the last to get out. She was holding her neck. She immediately sat on the ground.
The adults were there. One was beside Allie, seeing if she was alright. I could tell she was freaking out. She assured him she was okay.
I hardly ever see Allie like I'd seen her then. When the man walked away, she laid down with her head half on my lap, half on the ground. I couldn't move. I knew I was fine. I knew nothing was broken or sprained. I knew there wouldn't have to be any calls to parents about this. But I was scared. I was really, really scared.
It sounds childish, being freaked out about a blow-up slide flipping. But think about this: if I or Katelyn had been at the bottom of the slide, we would've free-fallen ten, maybe fifteen feet onto a pile of girls. The blow-up bending could have killed us. I'm just thankful that no one was seriously hurt. I was still too scared to cry about it. So were the other girls. We kinda just laughed about it. I'm only just now letting my feelings out.
I spent the night at Kira's- I didn't really want to face home just yet. When I did get home, I mowed the lawn. Then I went inside and played with my new cosplay glasses.
They were crooked. I didn't want them to be crooked. I didn't mean to bend them that much.
I watched my mother try to fit the two pieces back together with super glue. Then, echoing what my dad had said minutes ago, she stated, "I wish you hadn't done this."
Really? You wish? You think I did this on purpose? They're stupid glasses, and I'm closed to tears about them.
"I'm sorry I'm such a screw-up  then!" I shouted. After that, I stood next to the sink, pondering what to do next. I was waiting for her to reply. For my dad to shout something from the living room. When nothing happened, I went upstairs to my room. I grabbed some pillows and stuffed animals and shoved them into my closet, where I lodged myself.
I figured either my dad or mom would come in moments or minutes to talk to me, to ask me what was wrong.
I waited an hour.
I gave up ten minutes ago, because I scared myself. I was still in my closet, crying into the huge stuffed cow that my uncle and aunt had given me years ago.
I noticed that my sewing kit was right next to me. Very close. There were needles in it.
No one would even know. Just a little scrape on my arm, like that girl in that book did. Of course, she'd done it a lot, but you have to start somewhere, right?
No.
Now I'm sitting against my bed. I'm contemplating playing my ukulele, but I don't think that will make me feel better. I'd probably be better off going to bed. I'm still thinking about almost dying, so I don't think I'll get that much sleep. I want to skip school tomorrow, but I know my parents won't let me. I haven't told them about the blow-up, and I don't think I'm going to.
I've wondered about the good things that happen to me, then the bad. A lot of bad happens, so much that it normally drowns out the good. But don't get me wrong.
I don't need a lecture. I don't need therapy or a doctor or medicine or anything like that. I don't need to be on antidepressants even though I'm depressed most of the time.
I just feel like a need a real reason to keep me going as I struggle against the tide.