Forever My Love

As I lay there at the edge of a hill that was next a lake, under the dark blue night sky , admiring how beautiful the moon glowed in the night sky . Although it was a crescent moon , it still shone brightly with a silvery glow which lighten up the night sky along with the stars that blink like little fireflies on a tree at mid-night . Every once in a while there's a cool gentle breeze that passes , making it a very relaxing time .

As I admire the moon and stars in the night sky , your face would appear in my mind every once in a while . And each time it happens , it gets harder and harder for me to get my mind off you cause I know that we will never be as you are already in some-one's arm . After shaking you off my mind I decided to take a walk to clear my mind . As I walk my mind played back what had happened in the bar the other night .....

I told you I love you and just as you were about the say something , Jake ( the town's playboy , jackass , and richest kid in Night Fossil ( the town we live in )) interrupted you calling you a slut and started flirting with you and asking the price of a one night stand with you . I was furious and without thinking , I stood up and punched that retard in the face . I hit his nose and it was so hard that he fell and his nose started bleeding . As I was about to punch that sucker's face again, I heard you screaming ' Stop!! Don't punch him again, Soren !!!' .

As you ran to Jake's side trying to help him up , I tried to figure out what had just happened . I could hear the siren coming from the outside of the bar . I withdrew my arms and stepped back .

I stared at Jake , his bleeding nose , and you trying to help him get up as the cops came in the bar and cuffed me and dragged me out the bar.

' Crud !' I said to myself ,' This happened a year ago .... Why can't I just move on and forget you .'

To be continued .

Nick over and out

A Not So Ordinary Life Chap. 1

This story was thought up when I was going into a saloon. You’ll be surprised what you can see at a saloon when you look hard enough. Reader discretion is advised (again).

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As the early rays of morning shine through my window, I slowly rise; wiping away the remnants of what was yesterday lay in my eyes. The apartment window that sits there embedded in the wall, as it has been in the time I have stayed here, shows of a horizon, the vast ocean of skyscrapers and intertwining highways and sky trains. I get into my ‘big yet not so big’ toilet for a shower to get ready for school. As I walk from my bed room to the living room outside, furnished with the latest in art and fancy-prancy pompous decorations, Jacqueline; my maid and half-mistress walks out and nags me like she does every morning. She has a porcelain-vase body, her chest just about the right shape, and her behind not sticking out as most women do when wearing tight clothing yet very revealing nonetheless.

“Art! Just because I’m used to seeing you naked doesn’t mean I like it. Now for the love of god! Wrap a towel around that….” She stuttered at the awkwardness of what was supposed to be the last statement. Her face just turned a bit red though. I however, was used to the reaction.

“Jacqueline, if you would be so kind, as to pass me my…” I stopped, as she had already thrown my towel at me and stormed out of the living room into the kitchen, to prepare breakfast as she would every passing day. I just walked casually toward to the shower, not bothering to wrap the towel that was just thrown to me around my… Well you know.

Wonder how I got this fabulously decorated apartment and a gorgeous maid to match? Let’s just say there was an ‘occurrence’ with a certain owner of a long line of apartments, and let’s just leave it at that, shall we?

As I rough up my hair to dry it, and walk out of the shower (towel covering ‘it’) and casually sit on one of the stools surrounding the breakfast table protruding out of the wall. I look up at Jacqueline’s face as pours me some milk, and as her gaze meets mine, she looks away a red mess.

“You know, all you need is a wardrobe change, some moving rubber on that messy crop you call hair, and any girl would fall for you.”

Taken aback by the sudden claim, “What makes you say that?” I ask, more out of surprise than anything.

“The way you look at people, I mean, well...” she stuttered, not understanding what she said. How could she? She doesn’t know anything about my ‘special’ talent.

“Don’t be like that Que. You know me long enough to hold back with the face” I lied, as we had only known each other since I finished junior high last hear. She turns even redder at the mention.

“Que…” she just turned away and started wiping dishes, which were clearly dry. I knew she needed some cheering up from the embarrassment. I mean, it wasn’t even her fault!

“Que!” I shouted in an attempt to startle her. It did the trick; she spun around and nearly dropped the plate, when I held it firm in her hand. As she looked away, I lifted her chin up to meet my gaze, her beautifully shaped, light-blue eyes. She stared deep into my set of light purple eyes, as I stared into hers.

“Que…” I started.

“A-a-a-Art.” She said firmly at the end.

“Tell you what; I’ll make a bet with you.” She slowly pushed me away as I start the conversation.

“What kind?” She was slowly recovering, as I had hoped.

“I’ll do that makeover thing with you and since tomorrows school, we’ll see if the girls keep gaping at me.”

A wide grin spread over her face. “Conditions and Prizes?”

“If less than 50% of the girl population ignores my presence, you win. Otherwise, I win. As for prizes, you decide yours if you win. I’ll decide mine when I win.” I said in a slightly mock tone, but ginning widely as to show no hard feelings.

“You’re on!” As she shook my hand, my towel dropped. Sigh. Back to square one.

As she pushed me into the saloon chair, I was faced with a reflection of myself and an eyeing Jacqueline. The Saloons hairdresser, Miew Miew, Que had called her, has that “Your hairs going to be interesting to fiddle with” look. This just increased my distress. Jacqueline laughed at my displeasure.

“Nice looking boyfriend you got here Que. Mind if I snag him from you?” The saloons occupants were listening intently but doing their best not to show it.

“I told you for the fifth time! Read my lips. He. Is. Not. My. BOYFRIEND!” She was wearing a light pink shirt, with a matching floral skirt just above her knee level.

Miew Miew eyed her up and down then up again. “You dress like your on a date though. Can’t blame me for that.” Que’s face turned away and tried to argue further but Miew Miew just put up a hand for silence, and pointed to my hair.

“Remember Quinn?” Que asked.

“You want HIS hair!?! Now THAT’S a request!” She began spraying my hair with water. Slowly but surely, a hairstyle was being formed. What scared me was that I couldn’t see what style it was until it was finished. She slowly layered my bang then pressed it so it went sideways, but not to the point of an emo hair cut. My overgrown sidebangs were layered slowly to become short but still very thin. Then she might as well have practically layered my whole head as much as I was concerned because in the end, I was left with a very strawy, volume style of hair. It wasn’t as thick as those Asian models you see, but it still wasn’t as short as the models you see in the European part of the world. She then dipped her fingers in what I think is some sort of hair product. I don’t really care for these sort of things. When she was done, my hair looked slightly poofy, yet maintaining its strawy quality.

“Hows that for Quinn?” Miew Miew obviously happy with the work.

“He’s…” She stopped as I smiled at her and she went red again. A customer giggled at that.

As I stood up and paid, I nodded a brief ‘Thank You’ and quickly stepped out. Que put her arm around mind and said in a very perky tone that I have never heard before, “Clothes!”. I was still up in the clouds after the hair cut, so it came as a surprise to me when the escalator came to an end. I stumbled forward I dragged Jacqueline down with and next thing I knew, she was on top of me. I could feel her ‘chest’ on mine, and her heavy breathing on my face. She turned a very pink red then as she tried to stand up, a familiar voice greets us in that awkward (yet sexy) position. I looked up and saw a pair of turquoise panties under a very short skirt.

“Art? That can’t be you, can it?” A set of purple eyes observed us on the ground.

(Parte Uno El Fin)

Or at least that’s how I think it’s said in foreign language. A short note here, most ‘obscene’ parts are dedicated the critic ‘McWiggle’ as was his feedback to my prologue. More feedback is needed please. Thanks in advance!

Nandayo.

One more time (6)

PREVIOUSLY: 'So, do you want to talk about it, Era?'

'My father knows you. How? And you knew the truth about my mother, why didn't you tell me? It looks like I can't trust you either Hunter!'

MONDAY, AUGUST 31: Hunter doesn't even look surprised that I know just how involved he was in my depressing past.

Remember how I said your instincts told you to stay away from Hunter unless you were suicidal? Well, that's exactly what I was. I'm prone to sudden bouts of depression, and sometimes it got so bad, I had to forcefully stop myself from doing anything stupid.

I was with Ian and a couple of friends, and we had finally managed to convince our parents to let us go off on our own for a holiday. So we booked our tickets, packed our bags and we set off on what was sure to become our most exciting trip ever. We board the plane and I sit at the window seat, Ian next to me and my best friend, Carolyn next to Ian on the other side. And separated by the aisle is one of Ian's buddies, Duke.

Carolyn is the one person who has been persistently trying to keep in contact with me even after I left the island, I avoided the contact though, and you'll see why in a moment. We had become friends when I was 15, and later that same year we became best friends. Carolyn just understood me, she was quirky and never really managed to fit in with the mainstream, just like me. She looked the part though, she came from an extremely wealthy family, she was tall, thin and pretty, not gorgeous, but the kind of pretty that takes you a while to notice.

Duke was reasonably more complicated. Duke, Ian and I had been best friends ever since pre-school. We hung out together and did everything together. Ian and him were almost permanent fixtures in my home in those early years. But, soon after we hit 12, Duke seemed to change. He became a whole lot meaner, and grew quite a bit, and I kind of thought he resembled an ogre sometimes. The thing is, Duke began hanging out with the athletes and he completely forgot about me. Ian was an athlete as well, so he and Duke had remained friends, but unlike Duke, Ian never was too busy for me. Anyway, the week before the summer holidays were to begin, Duke suddenly appeared out of the blue and started hanging out with Ian, Carolyn and I.

In all honesty, when I had planned this trip, I was hoping it would only be Ian and me. But then, the moment I was faced with the prospect of being alone with Ian, I realized I wouldn't be able to handle it, so I invited Carolyn to tag along. She was more than happy to oblige. So i figured it would only be the three of us, but Ian had the bright idea of asking Duke to tag along as well. So that's the background story of HOW I came to be in the mainland itself during that summer break.

Now to the interesting and slightly more painful bits. Once we landed in the mainland airport, we hired a cab to take us to the swanky hotel we had booked. So we check in, get to our rooms (which were side-by-side, and that cheered me up to no end), and begin unpacking. Once we're done, we decide to scope out the night-life on the mainland. We were 16, so naturally we managed to get our way into one of the extremely luxurious night clubs that was just a stroll down from our hotel. This nightclub was odd, for the fact that there was no loud music playing at all, and to call it a night-club would be pushing it, really. It was more of a trendy cafe/bar, very classy.

We decided to mingle with the locals, and just have a great time. So nearly an hour later, I strain my neck to look for Ian, but can't seem to find him. My mind raced to the possibilities, perhaps he was back at the hotel, perhaps I could get into his room, perhaps I could tell him how I feel, perhaps he'd feel the same way...my mind was racing. I rush to get my coat and hurry back to the hotel.

I get to our floor and notice that the door to Carolyn and my room was slightly ajar. So i tip-toe inside, and hear noises coming from our attached lounge. I hear Carolyn whispering something to a person I couldn't make out in the darkness. So I flicked on the light switch, and truly almost died from a heart-attack. On the sofa was my BEST FRIEND sitting on the lap of the guy I LOVED! Carolyn of course, didn't know I was pining for Ian, but that didn't matter, all that mattered was the fact that Ian, MY Ian was with Carolyn, who was supposed to be my best friend!

I turn my back towards them, hoping they wouldn't have seen the steady stream of tears pouring out of my eyes. I half-run out of the room and break into a full sprint towards the lobby of the hotel. Once at the lobby, I just ran and kept going till I was out of breath. It was dark out by then, and I realized that being 16, a girl and new to this part of town which looked extremely seedy was probably not a very good idea. But I was depressed, and really couldn't quite care about what was to happen to me, I just wanted to keep moving, keep walking, making sure that with every step, I was a step further from the crushing heart ache that I had just witnessed. So I walked into a bar, not really caring that I was the only girl there, and that I was getting very...interesting stares from the guys. I perch myself on one of the bar stools, and order the strongest drink the bar served.

As I was drinking, a man sits on the stool beside me and orders his drink. We spend a few moments in silence and then he turns towards me and asks me my name. We begin talking and he seems like a normal guy, not one of the carbon-copies you could find on the island. Around five drinks later, my head was spinning and I was extremely drunk. The man beside me offers to walk me back to my hotel, I accept, not really realizing truly how dangerous it was out there...or in here.

So we started walking, and it took me nearly half an hour to realize that I didn't recognize the route we were taking. I turn to the guy beside me and ask him where he was taking me and that my hotel was in the other direction. He simply nods, and tells me that he knew where my hotel was. He also said, he'd take me back the moment he quenched his thirst. This struck me as a little odd, even in my drunken state, because he had drunk just as much as I had, and I was almost in desperate need of a toilet.

As you've probably guessed, the man was Hunter, and he DID quench his thirst that night.

TO BE CONTINUED
pseudonym

Phase One

As Kenneth and I walked into the ballroom, there was this sense of achievement that we felt from doing so, as if we worked hard to get where we are (we paid the guard 20 bucks). So we felt like we had to strut our stuff. Walking with a slight swagger, I made my way over to the group of people hanging around the dessert table.

The rest of our friends were here, so there wasn't anything we couldn't do together. All I had to do was suggest something, and if everyone was enthuisiatic enough, we would create our own mob. I studied mob psychology until I could get a crowd of people to do what I want. But this works in a special way: You need someone else to help you as well. You cannot move them by yourself. That was Kenneth's (or Ken for short) role. He was my nudge.

Me and Kenneth were graciously welcomed by high fives and punches on the arm, very macho stuff. After our usual banter, we look around the room, watching for potential. This was what we dealt in. Mobs.

I nodded at Kenneth, and he quietly slipped in to the loud crowd in the middle of the room, dancing on the smooth wooden floor. I nodded once again, this time at the rest of our cohort, and the fanned across the room. This was usual work for us. Every time we did this until it felt like clockwork sometimes. I thought we might try something different, this time.

Stupid teenagers, I thought to myself. Partying themselves numb at the expense of their parents' hard work. To my advantage, I added silently. My hand itched towards the knife in my trenchcoat. Nimbly I moved the knife to another pocket, concealed beneath my jacket. I hung my trenchcoat on the place where everyone else did, and proceeded to a dark corner of the room.

I sat at the table which I had already marked out before tonight's event. Sellotaped underneath was a silenced pistol, named so because when fired, caused less noise. I took it out, and quickly fired a round at a random person on the dance floor. He dropped lifelessly to the ground, much to the horror of his partner. She shrieked, and everyone nearby turned around. Not long after there was a huge crowd gathered around the man's body, blood in a pool around his lifeless form.

Typical. Next.

I spotted some of my men already in the crowd, pretending to worry, pretending that they didn't already know was going to die tonight. I chanced a wink at one of them, and his face had a ghost of a smile before he creased his brow with worry again. Everyone was in such a panic state, that no one noticed that some of thier belongings were being relieved by my men.

This was starting to bore me. I never had to put on my theatrics for a job. My plans were always flawless. As I looked around to find Ken, I was a bit surprised that I was unable to find him. I was always able to find him after a job. Always. I dumped the gun under the table. And walked outside, leaving my trenchcoat. I did not signal for my men to withdraw, it was too early for that.

Something was wrong.

And that certainly never happened before. My hand twitched to my blade once more.

Part 1 of 3

Editr.

One more time (5)

PREVIOUSLY: 'Era, join me for dinner. I'll explain everything. And I'll prove to you that your mother, wasn't the saint you thought she was.'

'This sounds like a bore-fest to me, father. But sure, why not, and I hope you know I'm only agreeing because I'm hungry and haven't had dinner yet.'

MONDAY, AUGUST 31: It must now be pretty close to two am. I've been sitting here, in the pier, ever since I stormed out of dinner with my father some five hours ago. I leave my feet dangling in the water, and let the cool water ease my anger.

The glamorous dress I had worn to dinner, my father had made reservations at one of the fanciest restaurants on the island, was thoroughly destroyed. Perhaps it happened when I walked all the way from the restaurant to the pier, and I didn't even bother with pretenses of appearing human. A little boy in a car, stared at me open-mouthed as I walked in what must have seemed like a car going 50km an hour. Or maybe it was my expression, something between murderous rage and utter grief.

Somewhere behind me I hear a gentle thudding of feet. For normal human ears, the gentle sound would not have registered. But for me, not only could I hear the thudding of the feet, I could identify the gender and I could even identify who the footsteps belonged too.

'You're losing your touch, Hunter. I could have heard you from a mile away. What are you doing on this little island, and don't lie, you know I can tell when you do.'

'Hey, Era. I was following you, as usual. I heard the fight between you and your father. Are you alright? Do you want to be alone...?'

'Yea, Hunter, I want to be alone. Thanks for understanding.'

'No problem, I know the feeling. I'll make sure no one else joins us.'

Ugh! Some people are impossible! Hunter plunks down beside me, hanging his long legs down the edge of the pier as well. He's ruining his expensive leather shoes, but he doesn't care since he probably owns the factory that manufactured those shoes.

But I'm being rude, I haven't even properly introduced Hunter. His name is Hunter Venator, he's 25 and he's basically my blood mate.

Now hang on, a blood mate just means that he was the one who turned me into a vampire. Generally, the vampires will end up together, it's like a bond between us. We can sense when each other is in extreme danger, or is in an uncommon state of mind. The only problem is I'm still in love with Ian, and this fact annoys Hunter to no end. To Hunter, Ian is just another cookie-cutter human boy, so he doesn't see why I would rather have an Ian over himself.

Hunter has fine aristocratic features, a very sexy British accent and a huge fortune to his name. He has medium-long black hair which is a shock to his pale face, but all it does is emphasise his perfection. He has the most amazing eyes ever, it's an uncommon shade of blue, piercing and penetrating, but it also shows his huge capacity for cruelty. Hunter couldn't have been any more different from the other guys on this island, and your first reaction to Hunter would be to give him a huge berth and not get too close, unless you're suicidal. Once you get to know Hunter, you'll know you should have followed those first instincts and run for the hills. He screams adventure, and liveliness, but also danger.

And to Hunter's credit, he does outshine Ian where looks and money is concerned. I can't really explain it, but I'm never fully comfortable Hunter, the way I am...was with Ian. So long story short, Hunter being my blood mate and all, he follows me around a LOT. And we get along well, but whenever Hunter is around, trouble isn't far behind. I have to admit, I kinda fancy being around to watch what mischief Hunter will get into here, in my home.

'So, do you want to talk about it, Era?'

'My father knows you. How? And you knew the truth about my mother, why didn't you tell me? It looks like I can't trust you either Hunter!'

TO BE CONTINUED
pseudonym

One more time (4)

PREVIOUSLY: I jump off my arm chair, so angry that my whole body is actually quivering. Given the opportunity I would have reduced the old toad into the ashes he deserved to be.

'How dare you?! How dare you ever bring up my mother, you filthy murderer?!'

SUNDAY, AUGUST 30: My father looks taken aback by my abrupt violent outburst.

'Now, Era, we must make sure to address that violent streak of yours, and it was developed shortly after your...transformation, I assume? Well, no worries, now that you're back home, we can turn you into the perfect lady of society, the perfect hostess and the perfect heir to my vast fortune.'

'Well, as much as a shock this may seem to you, I really don't give a damn about being a lady of society. And also, this is NOT my home, I'm only here so I can be by your side as you die, so I will be able to see you die, slowly preferably. Oh right, here's something that's been bothering me for a while now, how much did you bribe the police to not throw you in jail?'

I look into the face of the man I despise. And worse of all, this was the one person I admired in my younger days, the person I looked up to and the person who I wanted to emulate.

Not anymore though. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with this man, the man who I resembled so much. You have no idea the pain of looking in the mirror everyday causes me. Every time I want to fix my hair, I see his face, I see the face of the man who killed my mother. And the only thing I hated more than that, was the fact that I still loved him.

'Era, my dear, I didn't need to pay the police for anything. They ascertained that I was innocent. And my dear, do not be so quick to pass judgement, it's a very unappealing trait.'

'Don't tell me what to do. You let that right go the moment you killed my mother. I WILL NEVER take orders from you!'

'Era, join me for dinner. I'll explain everything. And I'll prove to you that your mother, wasn't the saint you thought she was.'

'This sounds like a bore-fest to me, father. But sure, why not, and I hope you know I'm only agreeing because I'm hungry and haven't had dinner yet.'

TO BE CONTINUED
pseudonym

One more time (3)

PREVIOUSLY: There's a strained silence in the car, and I know the both of us are remembering the times we shared, and how we hadn't made any contact in 3 years...

SATURDAY, AUGUST 29: So during that horrible strained silence, I realized that Ian was the reason I had changed so much. I never ever wanted to feel that hurt and crushed ever again in my life. Can you imagine the devastation? Having been in love with the guy for four years, and he didn't even have the decency to say 'goodbye' or 'take care' to me. And I can excuse him for not saying that even though I had been secretly in love with him, but what I can't excuse is the fact that we had been best friends for 10 bloody years...

'Era, I never had the chance to say I was sorry after driving off that day. I was shocked, Era! I didn't mean to hurt you...because, I think I love you too. There's not been a day that has passed since you've left that I haven't kicked myself for not stopping you, for not telling you how much I loved you too....Era?'

He must have finally noticed my expression. The pain, how I had been right all along, how I had gone about thinking and reliving that scene so many times since I left...

'Ian...stop! Just stop! It doesn't matter anymore. I promised myself that I would never ever feel that way for you ever again. I promised myself that I would never let someone else have the power to crush me ever again. And besides, I've been gone for three years now, I've met other people Ian. You didn't honestly think I would wait for you, did you?'

Ian looked like he had been slapped in the face. He didn't need to know, that what I said wasn't true...at all. That he was still always on my mind. For even though Ian was a carbon copy of everyone else, he was different, deep down. And that's what tears me up inside, I love him, but not his carbon copy self, his true self, the self he had shown to me countless times. His quirky sense of humour, his kindness, his inability to be mean, his humility and basically everything about him.

Ian is very much out of my league, and I realised this a long time ago. But I hoped. And I learned just how much pain hoping caused. So, although my heart soared at what Ian had just said, I knew he deserved better, so I said I had moved on. And sure he'd be hurt for a while, but in the long run, he would be better off for it, right?

By the time I had thought all of this, Ian had pulled up at my father's mansion. Ian gets out of the car without looking at me, and goes to the boot of his car and unpacks my bags. He then turns, gives me a curt nod and climbs back into his car and guns the engine. I was suddenly transported to the entrance of the airport, three years ago, and I had to work hard to stop myself from hyperventilating.

I had changed so much in three years, but I've been back for barely a couple of hours, and I have been transported back to the awkward kid I used to be. The overly emotional one, the one I despised.

'Ian! Wait! I lied, Ian! I LIED!!'

Obviously he didn't hear me, he just kept driving, and that over powering feeling of loneliness consumed me once again.

I take a deep breath, collect my luggage, and march my way up to the entrance of that despicable mansion that I would be calling home for the next-god-knows-how-long. I ring the bell, and wait for Jasper, my father's butler, to get the door. The moment it opens, I stride in, like I own the place, and honestly, I almost do.

'Hey Jasper! Missed me? I know! Me too, mate! Here's the bags for you to take upstairs, you know which room I want. Oh right, where's the old toad? Still alive and kicking?'

'Good evening, Miss Cavanaugh. And yes, it's a pleasure to see you so...assertive and it gives me great joy that you didn't miss your flight. Also the "old toad" as you put it, is still kicking, so to speak and demands an audience with you immediately.'

Jasper obviously wasn't very happy to see me, but who cares. I had a bigger fish on my plate, or in this case, toad.

So I stride into the library where my...father is waiting. I don't even bother plastering a fake smile on my face, instead I just walk over to one of the arm chairs and sit, my back towards him.

'Oh, I see the pretentious airs of your mother haven't been lost after all. What joy.'

I jump off my arm chair, so angry that my whole body is actually quivering. Given the opportunity I would have reduced the old toad into the ashes he deserved to be.

'How dare you?! How dare you ever bring up my mother, you filthy murderer?!'

TO BE CONTINUED
pseudonym

ROCK!

"Headbangers! Assemble! Untie your hair! Put your bandanas on!"

"Lead Guitarist! That guitar of yours good to go?"

The strings twanged with the strums and plucking of the musicians.

Electric pulsing through the jacks and finally reaching the sound technician booth.

The speakers, hundreds lined above the massive stage, boomed and vibrated with energy that was being projected into the crowd,

Sound Energy.

chants filling the air, shaking it to the point where birds were falling from the sky,

the crowds were restless, pushing agaisnt each other in the sea of the hardcore,

Fan.

The lead singer raised his middle finger and pointed it towards something beyond the crowds,

the crowds roared mightily, even louder than before,

and soon fell into silence as the the rest of the band stopped,

and He said,

"ARE YOU PUNKS READY!!!"

the crowds fell into a frenzied state, and riots broke out in the sea of people,

and they soon turned away from the stage and began to move towards the river,

Across the river,

lay millions of creatures,

not born of the earth,

but was carried here by the demon himself,

no shouting, no spoken words, just the stillness,

there was No Sound.

They were called the Mute Clan,

allowing only the sounds of their claws tearing into any human that opposed them,

silencing them forever,

that was their objective,

that was why they came here,

to instill muteness,

to rip the ears off, to cut the mouth out, to chop the hands of the musicians,

Sound depleted them of their energy,

the dark force that they fed on for a millenia,

living silently in the shadows,

until,

We came,

the bringers of music and sound,

as we danced round the fire,

with the beating of the drums,

that slowly evolved to an era of ear-splitting concerts that was a worldwide phenomenon,

as sound grew more and more evident and louder,

the dark force gradually reduced to the point where they were starving to death,

The Mute then called upon its 5 leaders,

to discuss the matter,

and decide what was to become of humans,

Towards the end of the meeting,

It was decided that all humans shall perish,

and all instruments and speakers be destroyed,

and Eternal Muteness be placed on Earth.

-

To be Continued.

McWiggle : )

A Not So Ordinary Life Prologue.

This story was thought up during my trip back to my village. Reader discretion is advised(but not necessary).

---------------------------

You know sometimes, a romantic situation happens and your heart goes all "Doki - Doki"? Well it isn't just fate. It's a talent. Why do you think when you spam in your head "Talk to me!Talk to me!Talk to me!Talk to me!Talk to me!Talk to me!Talk to me!" your crush just happens to just talk to you? when before he never noticed you? Well like i said, it's a talent. Not everyone has it. But those who do, don't know how to use it.

Well for me it's different.

For me, this talent is uncontrollable. If it wasn't obvious, this means that, well, romantic situations happen to me ALL the time. I can't say that i like it, though, i can't say i don't. But it does make one heck of a story.

My name? Well, you can call me..... Art.

Well, it all started when I was in junior high. I was merely walking up the stairs. Amber (This girl in my class who all the boys kind of have a crush on) was about 8 steps in front of me. By the time she reached the top, she looked out the window for a split second, and that was all it took. The wind blew in through the window and up skirted her. She saw me look, of course. Any NORMAL boy would’ve kept staring, but I’m not normal, AM I? I looked away. I don’t exactly know why, but I did. Her face was all red, and she looked frantically around to check for other onlookers. Then she just came over to me and bowed slightly and apologized.

“Oh, Um.. Sorry!” She blushed as she said it.

“No, no, I’m the one that looked. I should be sorry.”

“But….” Her face all red, slightly panicking.

“If anyone’s to blame, it’s the wind.” I said half-jokingly.

She giggled.

We walked back to class, her face still a red mess. As I opened the door for her, she turned even redder! Her face was completely flushed, and as she entered the class looking everywhere but at me, she tripped. As she fell forward I held my arm out to grab hers, and when I pulled her back in, she landed on my chest looking up at me. As she stared into my eyes, all I could manage was:

“So THIS is what a beautiful girl looks like up close.”

Throughout history everyone was gossiping of how we were walking together into class and how we held each other close. My friend Damien even got a photo of us holding each other.

“This is SO going on my blog” He proclaimed.

All of that didn’t matter, what kept me out of everything were my actions throughout the day. The things I did and said without thinking. Why look away from her panties? Why apologize? Why pull her in when I could’ve just help her stand up? Why say something flirtatious to her?

I was baffled, I couldn’t think straight. By the end of history I thought, ‘Hey, this is probably just a onetime thing. She is TOTALLY out of my league’. Well, you can’t believe how wrong I was. Next period was art, and my name resembling the subject name would make you think, that ironically I suck at art. Nah, in fact, you could say I taught the great Picasso himself!

I went ahead and got myself my art supplies in my art locker. However, when I wanted to start painting I saw Amber and her best friend, Hanae painting away happily. My hand jerked itself all of a sudden and I splashed my paint across the canvas, followed by the crashing of my supplies on the floor. Miss Helen, our art teacher(duh) went berserk.

“Art! Look what you did to our beautiful floor!” The students just laughed at the (not so funny) pun, get it?

I didn’t pay any attention to her though. I was looking straight to the ground, it was the same feeling, the feeling of not thinking and yet knowing what I have to do. I went down on the floor and picked up two brushes and simultaneously painting with both. Who knew I was ambidextrous? It was clear in my head, I knew EXACTLY what to paint. I slowly mixed the spilled colors together, and spilling more colors when I needed them. Everybody was taken aback, not knowing what I was doing, thinking I was crazy. They slowly retreated to the far edges of the class, thinking I was mad or something. My hand was darting at lightning speed, each stroke slowly completing the painting. When the painting got too big for me to extend my body without smudging the paint, I suddenly got up, took my shoes off, and slumped down on the floor.

I was painting with my body! Let’s see Picasso do THAT! Well, not so much my body, as my knees and arms. I still used the brush however, to refine the paint. My body was just to spread the paint. As I slowly stood up, panting, desperate to just run away, to get away from everyone, knowing the reaction that would come. I had just single handedly used the art rooms floor as a canvas, but what exactly DID I paint? Amber slumped down on the ground, her eyes on the brink of crying. Hanae was gaping in awe, but knelt down to comfort Amber anyway.

I had painted a giant-sized version of Amber and Hanae, Amber’s beautiful purple eyes looking at the ceiling, a similar pair of yellowish golden eyes, belonging to Hanae who is hugging her, both with beautiful (yet stunning) smiles on their faces. They were wearing their school uniform, Hanae slightly revealing her cleavage.

Miss Helen just stood up, and stared in awe.

I was in over my head with compliments from the boys, tease from the girls, and congratulations from the teachers. I mean, the next few days, even more random occurrences’ happened. Me bumping into Hanae, I fell into a bed of flowers, and when I came out, I had a bouquet of flowers in my hand and Amber was standing right in front of me.

So that was the first ever occurrence (or few occurrences’) of my “romance factor”.

I mean, that was in junior high. I’m in my freshman year in high school, who knows what’s in store?

Art.

(End of Prologue)


Nandayo.

One more time (2)

PREVIOUSLY: I arrived at the god forsaken airport, and told you my background story. I was enjoying myself, being the centre of attention, when i noticed the oh so, delicious Ian trying to recall me...

FRIDAY, AUGUST 28: Right, so before I begin to explain Ian and my complicated background story, let me describe to you exactly how much I have changed since leaving this god forsaken town. As I've mentioned, if you've seen one person here, you've seen them all. Everyone is a carbon copy of the next person. Let's talk about the guys. Every single one of them has medium-short hair. Usually a blond or light brown. Everyone plays sports, on the weekends they get 'wild' and 'blow-off' some steam by taking their parents cars to one of the convenience stores in town. So yea, the guys here, not very interesting at all...

But it's the girls that completely blow me off my feet. Nothing has changed at all, from the way they dress, to that fake way they toss their hair over their shoulders. For instance, all the girls have long, immaculately straight strawberry-blond hair. They go to the saloon every weekend, to make sure their highlights look presentable. They get manicures and pedicures done every other weekend. Everyone wears the exact same styles, only in different colours...well, you get the picture. And I'm ashamed to say, I used to be one of those carbon copies, and I almost liked it.

But, I'm proud to say, that today, I look nothing like these fake girls, I look exactly how I want, and I can see the disapproval in the faces of the elders and an almost admiration in the eye's of the other misfits. I've got long, dark locks, with alternate streaks of bright blue, red and purple. I don't wear those horrendous mini-skirts with the collared t-shirts and tiny handbags. I wear black skinny jeans, a very complicated top, knee-high boots and a very large handbag, with a pair of ray-bans. I stick out like a sore thumb, but I like it, I like it a lot!

Anyway, Ian is straining his eyes, trying to place me, the misfit, probably giving me a mental makeover, substituting my dark locks, for pencil straight strawberry-blond hair. Then suddenly realisation hits him. It's almost comical, I could almost hear the cogs in his head working meticulously.

'Era?'

'Hiya, Ian. Took you long enough. Like my new look? Are you going to offer me a ride in your hot-shot car or just stand there gawking all day?'

'Oh, err...your new look? I mean yea. It's nice, it suits you. And yea, climb on in, where are you heading?'

'Oh, come on Ian! You can't possibly have forgotten where I live, can you? Or did you not care for me at all?'

Ian looks adorably flustered. It's insanely fun to be the one who flusters THE Ian Baxter. I remember how he was my best friend in high school, and how I used to have the biggest crush on him, and how he didn't know, and how much it hurt me every time he hooked-up with one pretentious snob after another. On the day I was leaving this hell hole, Ian had sent me to the airport. He had given up trying to talk me out of my plan to run, and I had given up trying to convince him to run away with me. So as he gives me a hug goodbye, I breathe into his ear, and tell him everything. I tell him how much I loved him, and how long I loved him. I pulled back, knowing, just knowing he would say that he felt the same way, and I would have stayed, I would have done anything for Ian. But when i pulled back, all his face betrays is shock, his mouth hanging open, and he doesn't say the words i expect him to say. Instead, he goes to the boot of his car and unpacks my bags, and I try not to cry in front of him.

'Well, you better get going, wouldn't want to miss your flight, now would you?'

And he gets back into the car and hits the gas pedal. That's all i got after being his best friend for 10 years and pining for him for 4. The last thing I hear from the guy I love, my best friend in the whole wide world, and not so much as a 'Bye'.

'You grew up nice, Era.'

I nearly forgot that I was in the car with him, I was so caught up with my flashback.

'Oh, right. Well, you look the same, Ian. The same Ian who sped off and left me in this exact same spot 3 years ago.'

There's a strained silence in the car, and I know the both of us are remembering the times we shared, and how we hadn't made any contact in 3 years...

TO BE CONTINUED
pseudonym

Striking, Vivacious, Red....

Imagine belonging to the most absolutely amazing puzzle of all time. Medium in size, Nearly 10 pieces altogether, and absolutely exquisite. Truly a collector's edition. A puzzle you would truly be proud of being a part of, for although it is ingenious in its simplicity, it is also breathtaking in its beauty.

Every colour an outstanding shade, and not just different shades of the same family. Everything from a bright, vivacious red ;) to a dark, luxurious gold.

But what happens when that extra-ordinary puzzle becomes just a little too crowded? When the colours, somehow, don't seem to harmonise in the same way it used to? When it's almost as if, the colours are beginning to form cliques according to what family they belong to? Almost as if, the colours have secrets from each other...

Simple, there's really is only one good option.

a) You stick through it. Although it may hurt, although it may suck, although it may have the potential of turning that striking, vivacious red into a bleak grey. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems. And given enough time, enough motivation and pushing, that beautiful shade of red, may once again rejoin it's counterparts and once again make that puzzle whole, for really, without that shade of red, the puzzle is quite bland...

No matter what happens though, each piece of the puzzle was given a piece of advice, all different from every other piece. And here's the advice given to the vivacious red piece;

"No one can make you feel inferior without your permission."

So what will happen to the little red piece? Will it ever regain its former shade of splendour? Or is it cursed to remain its current shade of dull grey?...Only time will tell...

Another option of course is for the formerly vivacious red piece to join up with Jack's formerly lost puzzle piece. And together the two little puzzle pieces could perhaps create their very own puzzle!! ;)!!!!

END
pseudonym

NIGHT HUNTER(2)

Chapter 2

Soon the city of Gravia will be in sight. I can almost taste her blood now, I will always remember that scent. The scent of death roots everywhere she walks. Now I would have to think of ways to take care of her servants. I certainly have my own but I am saving Rokem for a higher purpose. The older one I can handle, its secrets already revealed to me. However, the other one still worries me. The countess has taught me most of my knowledge and it would be best if this new servant does not function the same as my own. Spies would certainly put her on guard. I mean it is simply impossible for any human no matter how skillful in the arts of stalking can actually stay undetected by my kind.

“Most troubling news, supreme lord of lords.”
“Yes, Rokem?”
“The ruler of Gravia, King Axel is going to celebrate the birth of his newborn son”
“What does this newborn have to do with my mission? Be quick!”
“King Axel will be having a party for this celebration and…..”
“Rokem, it would not do to test my patience.”
“Dorian will be attending this celebration, my lord.”
“If you have nothing else to report, leave.”

It seems like the gods themselves are trying to oppose my plans. DORIAN! Most respected of the DeathWatch, slayer of the Dark Hunger clan, destroyer of the Eternal Thirst fortress. Even the most powerful vampires take caution when his name is spoken. Rumors have said that he could smell us like how we smell blood. Rumors are rumors but sometimes they hold a measure of truth. I doubt he can take our scent but I am very much sure that he is able to detect us one way or another. 

Should I leak information about the countess to him? If he finished her off for me then I would not have to go through the trouble and also the danger upon my self. However, if he tracts me from the letter, my head would also end up his medal. Also, I would certainly prefer to have the chance to tear the countess apart my self. It seems I would need to act with heighten precaution, the slightest news would certainly bring Dorian to my neck.

I have already prepared my surprise for the countess, but I would still require the plan for the new servant. Dorian’s case however, I would just have to hope that the celebration will take his eyes far away from my activities.

“We have arrived in the city of Gravia, most cunning of lords.”

“Rokem, prepare your self. The moment the moon fully shines on this city, I want to be well equipped for my NIGHT HUNT.”

Commisar

One more time (1)

THURSDAY, AUGUST 27: Yups, so I'm back in this god forsaken town after three blissful years. In this backwater town, where everyone knows your full name, your parents names and probably even your grandparents name. This little town where everything you do will become the stuff of gossip the next morning.This little town is actually an island, so even though its picturesque, the only life-line to PROPER civilization is about a two and a half hour plane ride away. So the moment I hit 18, I ran for the hills...

THIS is the town I was born in exactly 21 years ago. And being forced to come back, on the day I finally turn into a legal adult, absolutely and completely stinks.

So you might ask, what in the wide world convinced me to come back,since I despise this place so much? Simple, my sick and dying father. But, don't feel sorry for me. I don't really care. There is no love lost between the two of us, I'm only here because it's an obligation, and the moment he goes six-feet under, I'll be out of here so fast...

I suppose you think I'm a horrible and ungrateful daughter, and how could I be so cold-blooded? Simple, the bastard killed my mother. He probably would have done away with me too, only he didn't know that I BITE. Confused yet? Well, you should be.

You see, when I turned 16, I had a fascination for the dark and morbid. I mixed with the wrong crowd, this was all during my summer break where I flew to civilization. Long story short, you know how your parents always told you that vampires don't exist? Yea well...they lied.

And here's the 411 for you, we don't have a problem with garlic,we love the sun, we can go to church, the cross doesn't affect us. So yea, we're just like you, only we don't drop dead quite as easily.

So that's my tear-wrenching story. I'm now in the god-forsaken airport, about to look for a god-forsaken cab to get to the god-forsaken mansion my father lives in. Ha! On the bright side, the moment the old toad croaks, I suppose the mansion is mine.

As I walk over to the cab, I notice all eyes on me. Go figure. When you come back to such a back-water place after living in glitzy Paris and Melbourne, you're bound to attract attention. You see, I used to fit into the cookie-cut perfect lil girl mould, since everyone on this god-forsaken island looks the same. Not anymore though. Perhaps it's because the colour of the blood in my veins have changed, but everyone seems to give me a wide berth, not that I'm complaining. Too bad, i suppose they don't realize that I can hear every insignificant thing they are whispering to each other. Oh well, I kinda like the attention...

And then I see the oh so delicious Ian staring right at me, trying to figure out whether he was seeing a ghost...ooo,but that's a story for another day ;)

TO BE CONTINUED
pseudonym

Retard

Cynics exist,

and so do hardcore fanatics, like me,

and I know,

I've seen em', their everywhere, I see them looking back at me,

waving their tails and staring at me with those reddish, almost maroon, eyes.

I talk to them sometimes, but only to ones that are not ugly or evil-looking,

there are a couple who are kinda cute,

but they arent many nowadays,

they told me that the evil ones devour the cute lookin ones to feed on the life force that emanates from the hearts of these little creatures,

these creatures seem to be existing in a parallel dimension,

and for centuries they have been waiting for the right moment,

to alter their universe so as to merge it with ours,

thats why I can see em,

they are close to finishing what they have begun a millenia ago,

when the time comes,

the moon will crack open,

and all the little creatures that habitat a world next to ours will coexist with us,

what will be the outcome you ask?

it depends on the cuteness of the creatures or the lack of it,

if it was the latter,

then our world will be devoured and hell will rise from beneath us,

and nothing will save us except death itself,

sigh.....

I've been trying to warn everyone,

but they won't listen,

"CANT U SEE THEM?? THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!"

they laughed at me,

called me names,

playing pranks on me,

and I have been wondering recently,

wether its the prescription I've been taking that's causing my delusions,

Its good though,

helps keep me from doing things that wouldnt be true of what my parents had wanted me to,

but they're gone now,

and I've been showing pretty good behaviour until I started seeing the creatures,

it got me freaked and people started avoiding me and stuff,

hmmm,

maybe I should start goin to that church thingy that I heard of from my diminishing circle of friends, I'll pay a visit tomorrow then. What's the worst that could happen? Change. I guess that was what I needed.

But I still wondered wether I wasnt just imagining those,

Creatures..

McWiggle : )

Puzzle...

Once upon a time, there lived a little boy called Jack. He had a fascination with puzzles. He used to make his own puzzles. One day he made his masterpiece. It was a small but extremely coulourful little puzzle. Now all the colours were shocking in their contrast, and yet, they complimented each other perfectly.

Jack treasured his little puzzle. But one day one of the little pieces dissapeared. Now this piece wasn't one of the main pieces, it was a neutral colour that did nothing much for the puzzle as a whole. So as time went on, the puzzle began to look even better without the little missing piece.

But one day, while cleaning his room, Jack finds the missing little piece. The piece has been bent and has changed shape. So when Jack tried to fix the little piece back into the puzzle, it didn't fit. So now the question arises, what happenes to the formerly missing piece, now that it has returned and does not fit in the whole anymore?...

Does it go and find another puzzle, where it might fit in better? Or should it mould itself, change itself just so that it could fit in...? So the question really is, should it be who it really is, its new and improved self, a self with a lot more colour or should it go back to its former neutral shade and shape, just to fit in with the puzzle once more?...

END
pseudonym

NIGHT HUNTER(1)

Chapter 1

Thirst. Hunger. Violence. How nice it would be to slaughter these fat, juicy nobles. The sight of their blood spraying into my mouth would most certainly be satisfying. NOT NOW! If I reveal myself now, I would certainly be hunted by the DeathWatch. Those accursed vampire slayers are too powerful even for the likes of myself.

CURSE the countess for bringing me into the world of the undeath. The benefits of immortality, inhumane strength and agility may have seemed great at that moment but now it is only a mistake I have gravely made. The price of such power is too much. Now I am unable to take in the sensation of taste (except for blood of course) and the feel, the touch of flesh. The worst part of course is the never ending thirst for blood. The life fluids that flow in all breathing beings.

At first animals could satiate my hunger and it had not been a problem because no one would gravely miss a cow or two. But now, every time I give in to the thirst, someone ends up dying and with that the city guards will be on alert. If that was not bad enough, I had fed carelessly once, only ONCE, and the guards were able to determine that the killer was a bloodsucker. News in the city travels fast, especially when the undead are included in it. Now the DeathWatch are roaming the city, with the sole purpose of taking my head as a trophy for their god.

Before this, I was a noble my self. I had my life laid out for me and all I had to do was smile and wave. But that accursed countess had lured me with the promise of power. If only I can find her somehow, I would gladly tear out her throat and suck her dry. For now I would need to control the hunger and pretend to take interest in the babbling of fools. Once I gather the information about the location of the countess. I would hunt, yes I would be the true hunter of the night. What better game then to hunt those as augmented as yourself.

A few weeks has gone by. Frustration continues to tear into my mind. The location of the countess still unknown to me. A knock on the door awakes me from my nightmares. Rokem, my faithful servant enters with an urgent looks.

“Most powerful of lords.”
“Yes Rokem? My temper is short so I think it is best if you hurry to the point.”
“My lord, it seems a lady of your description has appeared in the town of Gravia. My source tells that she in accompanied by two hulking giants, one matching your description but the other still unknown.”

The countess!? Finally she has shown herself! But she should only have one of her giant servants. It looks like she has made a new servant in such a short time. I would have to be careful with this new one. The last one had so many secrets that manage to actually buy time for the countess to escape. Not this time.

“Have our guards ready the coach at once! I would like to reach Gravia in less than a weeks time.”
“Right away, mightiest of masters.”

Commisar

Tun Fuad I

The trees were blurring past me,

my legs burned as they strained to carry the weight that was me,

taking pride in the ability to overtake senior citizens,

I breathed heavily,

causing a commotion in the group of youths i just passed,

It was not of the norm for me to be moving at a this pace,

It was far different from the frequent trips from my room to the living room downstairs,

or from my room to the toilet,

yet,

here I was,

practicing the idea of living healthily,

but also on the basis of at least doing sumthin besides reading and blogging,

Accompanying me throughout this suffering was my one and only iPod,

hence the name iBan,

if thee were to be observant enough,

But songs were of utmost limited in choice and suitability,

for who listens to Wagner or say Maroon 5 whilst running,

so I've only listened to Linkin Park,

which is starting to bore/annoy me,

So that was how i normally did it,

that was the flow of routines that would always happen,

that was about to change soon enough,

It was a Monday evening,

the crowds seemed to have reduced today,

which relieved me a bit,

for I have a distaste for humans,

myself included,

Only to be rid of that hatred when I was not deep in thought,

I took out my iPod,

flipping through the albums,

and finally I chose one,

a compilation of Beethoven's,

the screaming and tenacity of Chester had taken a toll on me,

and the fact that I've listened to his album countless times over,

I decided to walk,

not in the mood to run,

thinking of the past day's that have been somehow ruined,

Unwilling to be dwelling on it any longer,

I refocused on the symphonies that were coursing through my ears,

as I was walking,

I noticed a figure behind me,

I slowed down to let him pass,

but he seemed to slow down too,

not caring wether he was waiting for an opportunity to slit my throat,

or drag me in to the depths of the lush green park that was Bukit Padang

after two rounds,

with my legs numb and shirt soaked,

I walked towards the bench that was near the entrance to the park,

Involuntarily,

My head turned to the left,

and there "he" was,

apparently "he" has jugs,

and long hair,

and a tight ass,

She smiled an with a hint of awkwardness,

and I followed,

and she laughed

and I took out my earphones,

and she said,

"Hey, are u from all saints?"

"Umm, unfortunately, yea,"

"Yeap, I knew u were someone from the school"

like all conversations that I undertake,

a moment of awkward silence always appeared between topics,

Its one of my really annoying disadvantages,

not being able to converse normally with sumone,

I smiled and went to the bench,

surprisingly..........(to be continued)

-

All characters are considered fictional,

unless mentioned by said author

hah.

-

McWiggle : )

The Fallacy of Love

Could it be? That what I was feeling inside... Was it... Love? Or was it just my hormones playing tricks on me again? Well, I had to decide, and decide quick, because my cheeks were this close to hers, and our breathing could be heard by the other. Standing this close to each other, our feelings towards each other probably was mutual: We wanted more of each other.

But was I willing to go that far?

Too many times in the past have I been hurt before, hurt by those I love, because they are the only ones who can truly hurt. If someone murders your sister, you are hurt because your sister was murdered, not because someone muredered your sister, if you get my drift. So, after so many falls into the abyss, I am hesitant about entering myself into another relationship. Another chance for me to experience pain, for me to fall into a deep oppresive state.

I remember, though, the first time I fell in love. I was young, she was young, and love was young. The pieces fell into place almost like clockwork: If you loved her and she loved you, then both of you were meant to be together. How foolish, how shallow. But nothing smells, feels, and tastes as good as the feeling of new love; The love that you first feel for someone for the very first time, the love that would nudge you, nay, force you to do anything for the other.

Sad, though, that this love tends to fade the longer a relationship holds. And when that fine line tears, so does everyone's happiness. It flushes down the drain, and it dissapears, maybe forever. That happens every single time. That's why we have ex's. Do we mean it when we say, "I'll always love you"? I thought I did. I thought every single time I held a girl in my arms that it was true. I thought I would never let them go, but eventually I did, and it hurt me probably as much as it hurt them.

Did I want to love again? I was scared, sure, but yeah, I wanted it.

Did I want to get hurt again?

Knowing the answer, I leapt back to the present, where I could almost taste her on my toungue. I let her go, and I walked away, ignoring her shouts at me and her crying. I felt bad, sure, but I didn't want to feel that low again.

Editr.

Noises that kill

The room was silent.
For little Mary, this silence was bliss. It was rare in her life so she enjoyed it.
Then, she heard noises. People shouting, crying and throwing things.
Fear caught her. She realized it was Them.

Mary was just 11 years old. She was weak and sensitive.

She heard noises outside her room, praying it was not another fight.
She walked slowly towards the door. Her hands was sweaty, her eyes holding back the tears.
She opened it to see what was going on and saw shadows of her parents arguing about petty things.

"Why don't you just quit smoking!!!"
"It's none of your business so just shut up!!!"
"If you have money to buy cigarettes then you should have enough money to pay the bills!!!"
"Stop shouting, woman!!I know what to do!!!"
"I can't stand this anymore!!!"

BAM.
She shut the door close but she could still hear them shouting outside.
Now, she could not stop the tears from flowing. Her hands were shaking, trembling in fear.
"Stop...." she whispered. She knew it wasn't long until they call her out and question her..

"Mary get out."
Mary wiped her tears and went out.
Her hands was still shaking..

"Mary..listen closely..We're getting a divorce." her father said.
"Wha...what?" Mary answered, holding back her tears.
"You have to pick one of us to live with."her mom said.
Mary was confused. She didn't know who to pick. She loved them both equally..
"What if...What if i don't wanna pick?what if i want to stay with both of you?" Mary said sobbing.
"Just pick one!!!" her mom shouted.
and she started crying..
She couldn't choose between them so she ran to her room and locked the door.

Outside the room they were still shouting.
Inside, Mary was devastated.
She hated the noise. She hated the shouting.
She closed her ear, hoping that the noise would fade away..
"Stop...." she said repeatedly;like a mad person laying on her bed.
She saw the family portrait that was on her table next to her.
She grabbed it and hugged it tightly hoping that everything would just disappear..
Praying that everything would just..
STOP.

It was silent again.
Mary opened her eyes and noticed something behind her.
It was a warm light..She stood up and saw a door..Fear swelled inside her..
There was a presence beside her..It was a small girl..
It was Mary when she was 6 years old..
Mary was shocked but curious.
The 6 year old Mary went through the door full of light and smiled at Mary,
encouraging her to come.
So she went through.
On the other side of the door, the light was too bright..
She couldn't see clearly, but she noticed that when she went through,
She became her 6 year old self again.
She could see clearly now. There was two more presences in front of her..
Tears started to fall when she noticed that it was her parents..
Happy together. Not shouting.
She was overwhelmed.
She ran towards them and hugged them..
She was happy again.
Happy.Warm and Safe.


Her eyes opened. She realized it was only a dream...
All the warmth, happiness and security...gone.
All that was left was..

Emptiness.Sorrow.Hatred.

She wanted to cry again but the tears wouldn't come.
The sadness was unbearable for her.

It was quiet now.
She went out of her room to search for them.
An evil thought went through her mind.
"Had they finally killed each other yet?"
She went through the living roomNothing.
"So they left me?"she thought.
There was no emotion in her anymore.
The last place she checked was the kitchen...
Still nothing.
She stared at something interesting.
It was a knife.
A smile came to her.
She took it and went to her parents room.
When she got there, she saw a packed bag on the bed.
More hatred. She threw the bag down and screamed.
She was losing it. Who could blame her?
They fought every single day, sometimes blaming even her.
Ignoring her almost every day.
There was no peace. What she had wasn't a family.
She had nothing.

The tears started coming again. But her heart was still empty..

"Why?" she said sobbing.
"Why did you abandon me God?"
The knife grew closer to her wrist..
"Forgive me God..I just can't stand it anymore.."
"I just want the noise to stop.."
And Mary slit her wrist.

END

"Death is not the escape route for any problem"

-K-

Sin No. 1 Lust

I stare down at my watch for the twelfth time in five minutes. The minute-hand on my Rolex seemed to be crawling, not ticking. Oh god, why was it that men just cannot stick with any form of a schedule? Okay, that's it! I give up! If he can't take the effort to be ON TIME, then its over, done, period, end-of-story! Anyway, my best friends current boyfriend is kinda cute, and I caught him eye-ing me...shouldn't be too hard...

I suppose you're wondering who I am, well my name Elizabeth, but my friends call me Liz, so yea, everyone calls me Liz. I'm your average girl, tall, drop-dead gorgeous, blond, big eyes, i do okay in school, I'm the head cheerleader...you know, basically everything that you ever wanted to be, but couldn't!

So, thirty minutes later finds me outside my best friends boyfriends front door. I fix my face into a look of pure pain and sadness, complete with fake tears. I ring the doorbell and stand on the porch getting the water works ready. Not two seconds later, he opens the door, looking deliciously disheveled! He looks down at me, eyes full of concern. Aww, that's cute, he's way too nice. He asks me if I'm okay, and i say that I'm not, i say that i need a shoulder to cry on. SO, being the naive boy he is, he lets me in, we sit in the hall, and i put on the performance of my life.

So i really don't know why, but i don't seem to have many girlfriends. For some reason, all the friendship with my fellow school mates don't seem to last. I mean, so what if i tend to 'borrow' their boyfriends. Isn't sharing supposed to be caring? So why not share? Hmm...maybe they are right when they say girls are complicated...

It's five am, and I'm sneaking out of his house as quietly as possible. As i sneak out, i realized that i had left my car keys on his bedroom table! Darn! I climb up the stairs again, grab my keys, make sure i look presentable, then go down the steps once again, and walk head first into my best friend! oh crap!

So it looked like some fast talking was needed. Thankfully for me, everybody said i had a bright future in politics! So anyway, i make up a story on how i was actually looking for her, and got very offended that she would even suggest that i would 'borrow' her boyfriend. Anyway, one thing leads to another, and the next thing i know all the unpleasantness i knew she was capable of came out. We stand in the hallway screaming at each other, and she goes so low as to actually say that i was cheap! HAH! as if! then whats the weirdest thing of all? she gets all creepy and says in this solemn voice 'Do you know that the seven deadly sins really are deadly? And you my 'friend' portray the sin of lust perfectly'. Like a threat like that would scare me...

Anyway, i think Ive covered all the basics about me. Hmmm...what else is there to tell? Oh right, have you heard the folk tale about the seven deadly sins? Apparently my best friend wasn't kidding. In the little town i lived in, there was some crazy fanatic who went around 'bringing justice' to those he thought possessed any of the deadly sins. And everything had gone quite for a long while, so this tale had become a myth, something your mummy would tell you, so that you would listen to her. I didn't listen to her. So here i am, dead...great, right? Oh right, i forgot to mention that part didn't i? Oh well, life's fair, my best friend possessed one of the seven deadly sins as well...

END
pseudonym

Siblings of 3

As the three siblings fought , their friends witnessed the horrific battle between the siblings . What was supposed to be a fun day out in the sun at the beach turned into a bloody battle between the siblings of three. They looked like normal people but they were not , they were great descendants of mighty warriors that were greatly skilled in archery with great accuracy , swordsmanship , and sorcery .

The older brother was greatly skilled in archery , accuracy and ability to use the element of fire. And because of his accuracy the use of bow and arrows were not of his liking . He prefered using guns . And seeing as he was greaty skilled in accuracy using guns was not a problem for him . He once killed 20 with a handgun with only 5 bullets . His ultimate weapon was a homing culster gun that never miss.He was named Nash.

The second brother was blessed with swordsmanship and the element of lightning. He loved fighting with swords but soon changed to using katanas and dagger , and from time to time he would use crescent moon swords to fight . His ultimate weapon was a pair of daggers that had 3 blades pointing at different directions after the guard. His skill of swordsmanship was so great that he is able to kill 10 people in 5 seconds flat with a butterly knife . He was called Sayren.

The sister was born with the spirit of water within her and was highly skilled in using sorcery.She could control water and use it as a weapon , shield , and for healing . She could make force fields and protect people , that was what she usually do when the brothers were fighting . She not to be messed with , once angered , she would create a dragon out of water and unleash her fury on those who angered her. That was her ultimate power . She was called Mirana .

Like the other times her brothers fought , Mirana would place up a force field to protect the people from getting hurt and would stay outside the force field , but this was different ; she went into the force field and fought her brothers .This was probably the most bloody battle the three siblings had in years. After the battle against their great ancestors' enemy's descendant. But this time they were fighting among themselves .Nash was furious at Sayren because their parents forged a new weapon and gave it to him . Nash was filled jealousy and he wanted to kill Sayren as he was highly favoured by their parents since young . Finally after years of holding it in , he couldn't take it anymore and he unleashed that jealousy and anger by attacking Sayren . He pulled out his homing cluster guns and shot at Sayren , who was unaware of it .When he finally realized that his brother had shot him , it was too late , the bullet were already too close to slash away . He fell to the ground after the bullets had hit him ........

to be continued .....

Nick over and out .

DEATH STRIKE

“This is it goat feth-ers!” I shouted. The fortress loomed ahead of us, brimming with activities from the worshipers of the most foul of gods. We are the Death Strike kill team. Assembled from those that sinned and are given one final chance to repent. Basically, we are a team of expendable killers, and outlaws that are sent on suicide missions. Normally, Death Strike units only last a mission or two at most, but not my team. The first fething team in the bloody history of humanity, to actually survive not only one but four missions that were suppose to be our impending death. Sure there have been losses but what would a man or two matter when this planet has a lot more criminals to supply.

Back to reality, as our fifth mission, we are ‘granted’ (as if we had a choice) an opportunity to repent once again. We are to find our way into the Fortress of Dead Metal and bring the head of Helicon, leader of the heretical tribes back to our superiors. When they name it a fortress, they were NOT kidding. Walls ten times the human height, high tech auto turret emplacements, scout towers, snipers, and many more death dealing items you can possibly imagine. Then again, if you can actually think of those items then you might as well be a heretic yourself.

This would not only be a suicide mission but it would be totally impossible to break in without a full scale siege war. Not for us, first of all, my team consist of people that had their asses fethed by the life of the slums unlike those noble bred soldiers, second of all, since we are suppose to die anyway, so no one bloody cares about their lives, and last of all, we were just told that our dental plan got abolished, nothing I repeat NOTHING can make a man more fething furious then the loss of his fething dental plans. As usual I want to finish this mission knowing that my head is still intact with my shoulders. So of course we don’t plan to stay any longer than we have to. The plan? Head in, shoot anything that moves, kill target and then run out as fast as hell. For the last four missions, this plan seems to work pretty well. Problem now was, how the hell do you get into a fortress teeming with insane heretics and then get right out (with out asses intact of course) after killing their boss.

A shot hit a hands breath from where my face is. This is going to be a long and bloody day. Just when I thought we could at least sneak in quietly and take the boss out easily, then only cause chaos on the way out. It seems the gods aren’t going to make it easy for us this time. We’re just at the gates and it feels like we went and jumped right into hell.

“ARKHAM!!!”
“Called for me sir?”
“Get your fething ass down here before someone thinks it’s a good idea to shave it off for you!”
“Sorry sir.”
“You can say sorry all you want later but now I need you to rip the last gun emplacement before it turns us all into cubes. Get Falkrin to provide cover fire, then feth that turret like the fething goat feth-er you are.”
“Sir yes sir!”

This is not going well. We’re down to our last RPG and that’s not counted the one Arkham is going to use.

“Better make that shot worth something or else ill get Bondo over there to feth you like how he feth-ed the cow we had for dinner yesterday!”

A bright flash. Good, at least the turrets aren’t there anymore. Why do my men have terror in their faces? As I looked up I began to understand. The bright flash had not been the explosion of the turret. It was a targeting device. Now what in the nine fething hells would need such a large targeting reticule? Realization dawned on me. Only one weapon would need that. A Nuclear Desecrater Bomb. Nothing survives that. Especially with the amount of radiation of the fallout after the blast. This isn’t fair, not fair at all. Given time we would have succeeded again, we would have survived to die another day.
The last thing that came through my head (literally) was the blast that came right after the bomb impacted the fortress.

Commisar

If People Were Bags...

If people were bags, Claudia would be a Gucci clutch, straight from the factory, delivered straight to the store, handled by stuck up shop tenders. Claudia was a princess, she was treated that way, she expected to be treated that way, her name was never shortened, it was kept regal. Her life was tenderly and delicately treated. Afternoons after school would be a limo ride to the spa for a quick manny petty, or maybe a laze in the pool while tended on by two of her twenty servants. She was of course beautiful; Her looks were complimented with the latest fashion trends from all around the world. She was the epitomy of perfection.

If people were bags, Samantha would be a Nike backpack. It would be big, enough to keep a bottle and clothes, but stylish enough to bring it around. Samantha was like that, thin, large, lanky, sportswoman of the year (every single year), all round achiever. Although not exceptionally stunning, she was popular and had a large group of friends. It was hard to find time for herself, because she was endlessly occupied with social events and parties. All in all, Sam was your typical popular girl.

If people were bags, Tracy would be that unbranded slingbag, made from China, Brazil or God knows where. Quiet and shy, Tracy silently lives her life under the radar, doing her school work, going home to her house of five siblings, taking care of her younger siblings. Tracy had no time for unneccesary matters; She was too busy working a part-time job to support the hungry mouths in the house, as her parents did not have high paying jobs. She was just your other girl next door.

One day, a shopkeeper took out three bags, a Gucci clutch, a Nike backpack and a slingbag with no name. He was trying to make a sale to a customer who wanted to buy a bag for his girlfriend.

"What'll be, young man?" The store keeper asked. "I chose these three bags because they fit the discriptions you gave me on the phone earlier."

The 19-year old smiled at the shopkeeper. "They'll do perfectly. But I can only get one."

"Only one? My, that's sad. But anyway, how about this Gucci piece? It's all the rage with girls these days."

"That may be true," the boy said, "I'm sure she'd be absolutely happy if I bought her the bag. She'd gloat at all her friends that she owned it. But realisticly, the clutch is too small to hold anything, and I'm not going to pay so much money just so she can ask for another one a few months later. Besides, I don't want her to love me just because I buy her expensive gifts."

The shopkeeper put the clutch away. "How about this Nike backpack then? It's large enough to hold more things than that small bag just now."

The boy nodded. "That's for sure. And I like how it's design is very mordern too. But I don't think she'd use this anywhere, because my girlfriend doesn't really do so many sporty stuff, and I don't think she'd bring this bag with her anywhere, because there wouldn't be any need to. Besides, if she had too much activities to do, she wouldn't have any time for me." The boy laughed.

The shopkeeper sighed and kept the penultimate bag. He crossed his fingers under the table as he pushed the last bag towards the young customer. "Well, what about this one?" His voice had more than a hint of desperation.

The boy studied the bag. "Hmm, it's not as big the backpack, nor is it as fashionable as the clutch. It's got no brand either. But," the boy paused for a moment. "But, it's far more practical, and I know that she'd appreciate it more than the other two. Eventhough it's unbranded, it doesn't matter, because I know she knows that it's from the heart. That's why she's my girl." He smiled and gave the shopkeeper the money for the bag.

"By the way," the shopkeeper asked as an afterthought, "What's your girlfriend's name?"

The boy turned around and smiled. "Tracy. Why?"

Editr.

A pinprick of light amidst darkness

Ever heard of an oxymoron? Here's one for you...

I walk down those steep steps. Constantly looking over my shoulders, knowing that they would follow although i cant see them. I keep walking, concentrating on not falling, loving the adrenaline flowing through my veins. Then i reach the base of the steps, where its so dark, i can't even make out my hands in front of my face. My hair is swept back by that amazing breeze, and i hope beyond hope, that that amazing breeze could just blow my memories away. Leave me as a blank slate, a slate that i could colour and mould as i like!

I keep walking, and then i reach the edge of the building. I look down, and all i can see is the gorgeous sight of the waves lapping over the rocks below. A truly mesmerising sight, something i could stare at all my life, and never get bored.

Then it strikes me, if i were to place my right foot any further forward, then i would have found a way to get rid of those troubling memories, a way out of this hell hole. And yet, i cant do it, as simple as it sounds, i just cannot move my foot any further forward, no matter how hard i try to convince myself that it will be painless, for even i know that I'm lying to myself.

And so, i move away from the edge, i move towards a safe zone, where everything is boring and predictable, i move into towards the me that had been thought out FOR me, the me that everyone except me liked, i moved back towards a life full of bleakness.

Yet, if it were so bleak, why couldn't i make myself take that last step? That step that would have made everything okay. Then i realised that i had seen a pinprick of light amidst the darkness...

END
pseudonym

Mind of a Pianist

As I played the beautiful pearl white grand piano, the sea is calm with the reflection of the sunset on it, the sun set was a radiant orange and so was the sky with a little bit of clouds. A gentle sea breeze came every once in a while, there was an eagle soaring in the sky ever so carefree just like how I was playing the piano. Playing with me were 4 friends. One was playing a shiny copper brown violin, another was playing a red wood viola, one of them was playing a dark brown cello, and one was playing a golden harp. We played in harmony as the sun set and the moon came out shining upon us. Stars started appearing like fireflies on a tree. Orcas could be seen in a distance in the sea. The reflection of the moon on the sea was magnificent. With each passing breeze , the trees looked as if they were swaying to the song we played. Rain came and slowly turned into a storm, but we continued playing this time we played and poured our souls into what we were playing. The storm turned into a hurricane but we continued playing. As we played in the hurricane, it felt as if we were being torn apart as the wind from the hurricane was blowing us away at different directions. We tried our best to continue playing but we were blown away. After the hurricane died down all that was left of the beach were the trees and instruments that were sticking close together just like the group of friends that played them.

Nick over and out

Limbo

I started this year thinking it would be just another ordinary year that wouldn't go by fast enough. Hah! How wrong i was, this year has been anything but ordinary, friends have changed, subjects have changed, all new scares, brand-new relationships blossomed and old relationships have withered away. And yet, dont you always see yourself as THE ONE constant, the one thing that would never change? Hah! How insanely shallow...

So now, it being august and all, teenage dramas have bloomed into their full potential. Everyone is caught up in their own world, so much so, you ignore everyone else. And yet, you still want the whole world to revolve around you! And when it doesn't, you think its the end of the world, that nobody cares, that your all alone...

You're worried about that huge formal that's coming up next month, you're wondering who's gonna ask who and who is going dateless, you wonder whether you're going to make a fool out of yourself...

Then one day, you chat with an old friend, a friend you hold very dear. And you start complaining about your petty problems, wanting once again the whole entire earth to revolve around you. And your friend sits there listening, patiently, always giving the right responses, although dying of boredom, he has enough sensitivity not to show it.

And all of a sudden, it slaps you in the face! You see just how petty and insignificant all your problems are, when your friend just says something simple like 'I'm missing out on so much'. Then it dawns on you, when this friend gets back, everything will just fall back into place. Everything will go back to the good old days, where things just weren't so complicated. It's like being in limbo, only not realising it.

Next thing you know, you open your eyes and your back in your form 3 classroom, where everything is different and yet, not different at the same time. Sitting with your group of friends and just talking and laughing. And all those problems and disagreements were so trivial. And all those confusing dramas and cliff-hangers that are your life, is nothing more than a funny dream that you will remember only so that you can go to school the next day to tell your besties and laugh over it. Laugh at how ridiculous it sounds that so much can change in a year...

END,
Pseudonym

The Prologue

I wasn't as if I fell of my bike and suddenly decided,

Hey. I should start writing books.

I think it took all the books I read since I was young.

I started writing creatively when I was, what, 11 years old? When you're young, you tend to dream limitlessly, and that's when all the ideas start pouring in. And, I don't know, but when I write, I immerse myself in the writing until I lose track of time, battery power and amount of pineapple tarts eaten. It's not something that's profound, it's something that I do.

And I know I'm not the only one! I am positive that so many other people are gifted with writing, they probably just havn't discovered it yet. Just because you don't have the means to get your novel published isn't a good reason why you shouldn't kep writing. I'm just an avenue for you to express your creativity, and for others to come and admire your works. Etc.

I created this blog so those who just want to lose themselves awhile (after Facebooking and gaming themselves senseless) by writing and reading can find a little safe haven, just for a little while, eventhough life seems bleak, 'cos, hey, that's these years of our lives.

Please do,

because none of this would be

a success

without anyone coming here anyway.

This alignment thing is fun.

Uh, so yeah. Welcome to the Escapist World, where you don't need to leave. Unless your connection sucks.

Editr.