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Riel — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 21:29:57 GMT

wings of black and white.

the eyes. they're dark and burning, cold and light, a world full of contrasts that always seem to promise a kind of certainty. framed by long, dark lashes and skin that is ghostly pale in places, they offer a quick look into your heart. they're the eyes of either an angel or the devil, and sometimes i wonder if it isn't both.

the lips. they allow words of beauty to flow through them just as quickly as words of hatred, of belittlement and pain. they express the ideas that are simultaneously deeply profound and sadly mistaken. promising the answer with a wry half-smile, they burn against my cheek.

the hands. they're large but delicate, smooth but scarred and worn. at times they burn with an intense heat that can be felt inches away from my own skin, and at others they're so cold that they seem to drain the life out of a room. they wipe away tears and caress my face just as quickly as they ball into fists with provocation.

the heart. it's bare and exposed, simultaneously an open book and an enigma. cloaked in shadows of truths and half-truths, complicated and always, always dual-sided. capable of breaking hearts just as quickly as it heals them, of taking the blame for things that it doesn't have control over and shirking the responsibility when its truly at fault.

you. you're a contrasting person, an enigma that i know is dangerous in its honesty, with its touch. you're the person that i've fallen in love with, and the person that i've tried to hard to hate. i don't know if you're my savior or if you're my downfall, but one thing is sure: i love you.

loneliness.

the way that the forest is, you wonder if you'll ever get out of it. the trees packed closely together, moss growing on the trunks, leaves and branches blowing softly in the wind. the way that you could just swear that you see a star, or the moon. the way that the fireflies travel erratically up and down and around everything, almost as if they are dancing. black velvet darkness surrounding everything, creating a sense of loneliness, of despair tinged with an evasive sense of hope.

the way out depends on you; depends on your answer.

would you trade your soul for gold?

Eight Months.

Disc Jockey — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 03:59:33 GMT

(White font, best viewed in Blaq Skin)

Warning: This is extremely fast-moving.

Just something I whipped up in like 30 minutes. In a really written mood. Hope you like <3

~

Sniff, cough, and blow.

My gnarled hair falls right above my shoulders. I am tripping over this red Snuggie, and my stomach is screaming for nutrition and hydration.

Step down with one foot, step down with the other.

�Breakfast?� My mother questions the second I enter the kitchen. She is holding a frying pan, with a golden pancake inside. She places a paper plate on the counter with her free hand.

My yes is a groan. I remove the Snuggie, throw it on the floor, and sit at the counter. The soft cushioned barstool feels nice. My mother flips the pancake onto my plate.

�Here,� Mother says as she lays multi-colored pills next to the plate in front of me. �You gotta get better for school.� She pours a glass of water, and gently puts it on the cork coaster.

Swallow and sip.
Swallow and sip.
Swallow and sip.
Swallow and sip.

I cut the pancake and notice it isn�t fully cooked. Batter seeps from the center. �I�m not hungry.� I get up from the barstool, put on the Snuggie, and trudge upstairs.

�Oh, well, clean your room.� Mother calls up the stairs. I wave my hand in agreement, and yet we both know I never will.

I step into my room, avoid stepping on clothes and other items, and fall into my bed. As I doze off, my phone buzzes with a text message. I am awake immediately.

From: Sean
Msg: Hey. Ashley says you�re sick. Hope you feel better. I would visit, but its Ashley and I�s eight-month anniversary today. Maybe tomorrow. Sorry.

Inhale, exhale, and laugh.

I am laughing hysterically, hiding my lies. Eight fucking months I�ve been lying. I get out of bed, grab a towel, and walk into the bathroom. I turn on the shower. I undress myself, brush my hair, and study myself in the mirror. My breasts look larger than usual. I walk into the shower.

Shampoo, condition, soap, and shave.

What a waste of water. I dry my hair, change into a tanktop and basketball shorts, throw on some mascara, and slip on a thick layer of eyeliner.

Still sniffling and coughing, I grab a few tissues and shove them in my back pocket. Gently walking down the stairs, I hear Mother laughing at the daytime comedies.

Shush, tip-toe, and outside.

I sneak out the door without her knowing, and breathe in the fresh air. Phone in pocket, I turn the volume on high, in case Sean decides to text again. I grab my old bike from the driveway, and pedal away from the house.

Pass Winding Hollow, pass Chiswick, and pass Richman.

I turn onto Beaver Creek and slow down. Before I reach John�s house, I blow my nose and cough twice.

I pedal up to the other side of the tree next to his house and pull out my phone.

To: John
Msg: Come outside. It�s our eight-month.

I see him open the door. His twig-shaped figure walks down the driveway, and spots me behind the tree.

�Aren�t you sick?� He asks, flipping his black hair to the side of his face.

�Yeah, so what. Happy eight months, you bastard.� My reply is buttered with sarcasm. He kisses my forehead. He smiles, revealing his perfectly white, straight teeth. His crystal green eyes leave my heart squealing.

�Do you wanna do anything today?�

�No, dumbass, I�m sick. Unless you want a life-threatening disease, I suggest you stay away,� I tease.

�Well, there�s nothing to do then. I guess I gotta go. Your mom probably wants you home anyways. I�ll see you at school,� John says in an almost saddening way.

I hug him as tightly as I can. �I�ll text you when I get home.� I smile goodbye, grab my bike, and start to pedal.

�Oh, and Sarah,� he yells. I slow down and turn my head back at him. �It�s been a good eight months.�

�Yeah. It has.� I whisper. But he has no idea.

Lie, crash, and burn.

~

I'm craving critizism, gimme what you got.

A sampler of my REAL WORK!!!

Shinra X-2 — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 20:29:26 GMT

Pain...

What is pain?

is it a feeling of being injured, a confirmaton of being alive?

But I hate any kind of pain. Otherwise... I'll have to destroy...

Renn Gurski was just a regular kid before he found out that a spirit from the depths of hell had taken residence in his body...

And as usual... people make fun of him because he has no more friends.

"Hey MC Raunchy Renn!"

"I told you not to call me that otherwise I'll have to make fun of you back... MC Chubby Charles."

"Oh that is it! You asked for it!"

Charles was the common bully at school, and he was big compared to most of the students at Renn's high school... not just tall but "Phat" too...He charged at Renn and tried to punch him in the face.

Renn's eyes went from their regular Forest green to pure black and Renn caught Charles punch and started twisting his wrist back. His Black eyes pierced through Charles' brown eyes and looked into his soul.

"Boy, You're bigger than everyone but you're still afraid of people smaller than you? You astound me."

Renn wasn't the one who said that... it was the spirit that had possesed him... The spirit's name was Raven, The angel of hell. He pushed Charles back and said:

"Hell's fire... burn away the sin in his heart."

That was the day he found out that He was no longer normal. Charles was enveloped in flames but he survived the ordeal and he promised to never bully again. Renn found out that Raven, The spirit that had possesed him was sent to earth to exact justice on those who have made even the smallest sin.

Renn found out that Raven only comes out when he gets angry though, But the day that he hurt Charles was The day when Raven first possesed him.

(That is one of my evil character ideas, The next one is a lover's sample)

Renn was on the ground, Wrenching with emotional pain. He had recently heard that his last known family member had died of cancer... it was his sister. Renn had suffered so much pain over such a small span of his life. He was only 17 but he was living on his own since age 14 because his dad died in a car accident. His sister was always sick.. she was only 13 but last time he visited he over heard them that she wouldn't last the year.

Kira was walking to Renn's house to see if he was alright. Kira was one of Renn's closest friends since his father died and She invited Renn to live with her family until he was ready to leave... he stayed there until he was 16. Renn had suffered more pain than anyone could imagine, but that was what pushed him forward.

Kira walked in the door to his apartment and saw Renn curled up, holding the phone in his hands and saying: "It's impossible, It can't be."
Renn had no one left... His mother died when she gave birth to Kiki, His dad died in the Accident, and now his sister was dead. He couldn't ask any of his other family members could help because they lived too far away for Renn to travel. Kira looked into his Forest green eyes and tussled his brown hair.

"It'll be okay Renn, I'm here."

Renn uncurled and Kira helped him to put the phone on it's base and sat down with him on the couch.
"No one left, I'll have to move."

"No. You still have me and your other friends." She said.

"No you're the only one left."

"Why?"

"Steven and Elyssa are moving to California, Tyler is moving out to college in Vancouver and... My Grandma said she's picking me up tomorrow."

"Well let's try to make this a good last day."

Kira was the only girl that Renn had ever liked, Her hair was a blood red, offset by crystal blue eyes, and it always reminded him of that one memory... His dad took him fishing on a secret lake he knew about and the two of them watched the sunset together... The blue of the water and the red rays of the sun reminded him of her.

"Why don't you move in with me again? My dad said it would be all right."

"No... I don't want to..."

"Okay."

Kira moved next to him and said: "Renn, I think I might have feelings for you."

"Oh, I might be feeling the same way about you too Kira."

Renn turned on the T.V and asked:
"What movie do you want to watch?"

"Oh, I don't think I want to watch a movie."

"Oh, okay."

Then Kira just started blushing then she hugged him, She closed her eyes, and kissed him.
"Renn, I don't want you to go... With out you.. I'll never be happy again."

"Okay. But I'm not so sure as to how I'm going to break it to Grandma." Renn kissed her back and she fell on top of him while they made out.

"Let's take this to your room Renn."

"Okay, I see what you mean but we're only seventeen though."

"Who cares."

"Neither of us do."

Perfection.

Annoyance — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 06:59:55 GMT

Thiiiiis is probably one of the worst things I've written in a while but is the first thing I've started and decided to finish since well... May, I suppose. A bit sad.

This is bound to be revised and shit since I wrote this all in maybe 20 minutes tops. no real idea what inspired me. it's really short, too.

dear christ.
i'm sorry.

-----------

A girl made out of perfection and everything else like it. Her curls and curves accentuate exactly what needs to be accentuated. Behind her long bangs, bright eyes tease through. Eyes that see right through whoever she simply glances at. She is exactly who you want her to be and exactly where you don't want her to be: By his side.

He's exactly what you wish you were so you could stand somewhere near her. Strong, outgoing, lively. An asshole seen only in your eyes; you know better than that. Why else would his existance piss you off so damn much?

Perfection walks past you each day, with a strong hand holding her waist just like a child would hold a doll. Perfection is just that: A doll. She is a toy that eventually will be broken and forgotten about.

Is it wrong to love Perfection so?

Is it wrong to hate Perfection's lover?

Is it even love?

You've seen her tears and you've seen her cry her fuckin' brain out. Her pain. Do you still want her? Or do you still just see Perfection's surface?

I'll go on a wild guess and say, "jealousy."

------
this needs so much fuckin' work. critique would be ungodly appreciated.

[NaNoWriMo] Happy Fun Time. (CHAPTER SEVEN!)

Audo — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 04:09:37 GMT

- - -
CHAPTERS

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

- - -
"Some people feel like they don't deserve love. They walk away quietly into empty spaces, trying to close the gaps of the past."
-Chris McCandless
- - -

GAP 023
-The Other Side of the Looking Glass-

The November breeze coiled and wound its way through the taxi-cab window. The cold wisp snapped against the skin of the cab’s passenger, causing him to emit a sharp gasp as he rubbed his hands together, hoping for some sort of warmth to be brought along with it. His gloved hand shook slightly as he fiddled with the switch for the window, but it was stuck from the cold.

“Fuck,” the man muttered aloud.

The driver of the cab, a stumpy Mexican man still wearing his reading glasses, pretended to ignore the other man’s cussing, but the man noticed how his fingers gripped the wheel tighter in frustration. The cab driver began muttering comments under his breath in Spanish, which, due to the passengers loose high school education in the subject, led him to know that the driver thought the man should have been raised better than that.

Fuck him, the passenger thought.

The passenger turned away from the balding cab driver to his window. The frost had made it nearly impossible to see anything through it beyond the distorted outlines of shapes in the distance. Turning back to the fare meter, the man watched as his total amount due bumped up to $15.42. A grumble escaped his lips as he looked out through the windshield of the cab. He could see his destination finally come into focus and the fact that soon he would be free from the mumbling Mexican gave him a slight feeling of relief.

“Excuse me,” the man said, “but could you park near the back of the building?”

The driver shot the man a glare through the rear-view mirror. “You work here?” the driver replied, as he closed in on the building, turning off toward the back lot. “Eh? Speak up, boy.”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re no better than the rest of ‘em,” the driver snapped. “You know what I used to do? Think I always used to drive good-fer-nuthins like yourself around? Think I got my jollies from that? Nah. I used to own my own store. Toy store, actually. Called it ‘Padre’s Toys’. We were a hit around these parts. ‘til you sons-of-bitches came aroun’.”

“I just work here.”

The driver scoffed as the car came to a stop near the back entrance of the large building. The passenger pulled his wallet out from the back of his jean pockets. Thumbing through the bulls he had, he handed the driver a twenty.

“Keep the change, you need it more than this ‘good-for-nothing’ does.”

The driver’s Spanish outbursts were muted as the man shut the cab door behind him. Hugging his sides—trying to keep warm from the bitter malevolent winds that accompanied him—the man stepped up toward the back entrance doors. Curses left his lips, crystallizing and fading through the air as he tried to open the doors only to fail. They were locked.

He walked around the other side to the building’s front where he saw many consumers wheeling away their shopping carts filled with purchases. It was nearing Christmas time, which meant a spike in sales—everyone at Corporate loved fourth quarter earnings.

The man stepped inside the store, nearly being run over by a soccer mom who just had to get the last box of Sham-Wow for her dirty, middle-class kitchen counters. The man couldn’t lie, but the sight of it disgusted him, and for a brief second, he was almost glad he knew what was going to happen to that mother come day’s end.

Upon entering the establishment, the man was greeted by one of the employees standing next to the rows of unused shopping carts. He wore a blue vest with a giant smileyface etched into the fabric and a nametag that read “Archibald”. His face was permanently stitched with a fake, cheery, grin.

“Welcome to Happy Fun Time!” the employee said, reaching into his vest pocket and pulling out a smileyface sticker which he handed to the man. “Is there anything I can help you with today? We just got in a shipment of chocolate covered acorns—Amours—and if I do say, they are absolutely scrump—.”

“Yeah, no,” the man muttered as he brushed past the employee and headed toward the customer service desk. Already at the counter was an elderly couple who were frustrated with the fact that their singing toaster skipped a note in the melody when their toast was finished. It didn’t matter that they were returning it though, and the man knew this well. What’s done was done.

The man dug into his pocket, pulling out a pocket-watch. He was going to be late, though, he knew it probably didn’t matter in the long run. As he waited in line, he could hear the customer service woman telling the elderly couple that the new 2009 line of melodic toaster had a selection of show-tunes that perhaps they would like more and that she could offer them a free upgrade with Happy Fun Time’s apologies. This worked.

“What can I do for you today, sugar?” the customer service woman said to the man. She was a young black woman with dark hair that was barely long enough to rest along the blue of her vest.

“Uh, hi. My name is Gary Oldman. I’m supposed to be meeting with a Ms. Spektor?”

“Oh, right! She mentioned you this morning. Sarah is such a sweetheart! She should be in the back, you can go right through that door there, hun,” the woman said with a smile.

The man nodded, muttering a small word of thanks as he motioned his way behind the counter toward the back. As he walked toward the door, his eyes were met with the sight of the Employee of the Month wall in all of its cheap and tawdry glory. The woman from before had been chosen as EotM for the past three months. It looked like it wouldn’t be long before she would be promoted to the next stage of the game.

Bully for her.

Opening the door revealed a hallway littered with small speakers that continuously emitted the various Happy Fun Time slogans and audio commercials on a loop. The man had heard them so many times that, by the time he reached the door at the end of the hallway, he was able to recite them all word-for-word. And that made him feel just so....

The door at the end of the hall was labelled with Sarah’s name and below it was a message saying the room beyond was for exclusive personnel only. A key-card security system was in place and when the man pulled his card from his pocket and swiped it his face appeared on the small display panel.

“Welcome, Happy Fun Time Representative Gary Oldman!” the security system said as the door clicked open.

The man followed the corridor behind until he came to a door labelled as Sarah’s office. Knocking on the glass with his dry knuckles, he waited until he was called in before opening the door. On the other side of the door was a quant office. There were many bookshelves situated around the small room which only made what little space there was seem even smaller. A mahogany desk was situated at the farthest end of the room next to a window that couldn’t open. Sitting by the desk was a young woman with crossed legs and black, rectangle-rimmed glasses. At the sound of the door opening she took off her glasses and stood up from the desk.

“Gary, it’s been a while,” the woman said, outstretching her hand.

The man shook her hand. “Sarah.”

Sarah motioned for him to sit, which he did so without question. Looking around the room some more, Gary noticed many pictures of Sarah with a man. He knew who the man was, and seeing him smiling in the photos was like seeing someone he couldn’t recognized. Never had he seen a smile on that man’s face.

Following Gary’s eyes to the photos, Sarah spoke in a soft tone. “You know my brother doesn’t like you very much, Gary. He’s been talking with the HFT Board of Committees.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I don’t need to tell you that that isn’t good.”

“They’re never going to believe his bullshit,” Gary replied, taking his eyes off of the photos. “Why did you call me here, Sarah? You know I don’t like coming to this shit town.”

“Well, the thing is, Gary, that they believe him. And the Committee has sent out a request for all of your cases to be re-evaluated.”

“What!?”

Sarah simply nodded her head as she opened one of her desk drawers. She pulled out a piece of paper and slid it across the desk to him. Along the top of the page was the Committee’s emblem and the title “RE-EVALUATION REQUEST”.

“That’s the committee’s sign of approval at the bottom,” she added.

“I can’t believe this,” he grumbled. “Your brother has had it out for me since the beginning, Sarah. Why is he still doing this shit to me?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, “but all that really matters, is that it’s working.”

“So, what now?”

“I want you to know that I’m on your side, Gary. I am. And that’s why I thought you should know.” Sarah got up from her desk, and motioned for Gary to follow her. They began walking down one of the corridors.

“Thought I should know what?”

“You’ll see,” she said. They continued to walk down corridor after corridor until they got to door that was labelled ‘Examination Room’. She turned around, with her back to the door. Looking into Gary’s grey eyes, she explained. “They’re starting at the beginning, Gary. The re-evaluation. My brother has convinced them that you were corrupted since the start.”

“So?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said they’re starting at the beginning. The very beginning.”

Gary’s eyes lit up as a switch went off inside his head. He pushed Sarah to the side as he opened the door and entered the room. The room was separated with one-way glass, and on the other side of the looking glass was a woman.

Her dirty blonde hair was dirty and as she stood on her knees against the cold harsh concrete, her arms were handcuffed and hung high above her head. She looked down at the ground, but when the door had been slammed shut, the vibrations caused her to look up. Though she couldn’t see who was on the other side, her blue eyes were looking directly into Gary’s grey ones.

“You remember her, don’t you Gary?” Sarah said. “Jessica Quinn, your first subject.”

“What is she doing here--why is she like this?!” Gary yelled.

“She’s being held here, for now. Until....”

“Until what, Sarah?”

Sarah looked away from Gary’s merciless and demanding glare. She rubbed her wrists softly as she tried to find the words. But, she knew there was no way she could soften the blow that was about to hit him, and so, she just said it.

“Until they decide whether or not to kill her.”

Hello i have written something funny take a look

Go-Getter Greg — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 02:46:14 GMT

this is the first bit of my bible here you go tell me what you think is it good i think so just read it already jesus stop paying attention to this shit up here can't you see i'm just wasting your time HURRY UP AND READ IT HOLY CHRIST

Ursurus: Chapter 1

In the beginning, there was nothing. And then, there was the Bee. The Bee simply did what he did best. He made the Honey. Honey, as we all know, attracts bears. AND THEN THE GREAT URSURUS CAME, AND HE ATE THE HONEY, AND IN THE MIGHTY BELCH THAT FOLLOWED, THE UNIVERSE WAS CREATED.

A growl rippled from the divine throat of Ursurus, and there was light. And it was okay, i guess. Needed more honey. Another growl from the righteous vocal cords of the bear, and there was the Earth, which was also okay.

On the first day, He did nothing.
On the second day, He stole some honey from the Bee.
On the third day, he ate.
On the fourth, he went to sleep.
On the fifth through ninety seventh day, he slept.
Somewhere around the hundredth day, He woke.

The Wonderful Ursurus gave a great yawn
He stretched
He scratched, but could not reach that one place in the middle of his back, you know which one i'm talking about.
He was bored
Pulling some dirt the Earth, and scraping some Honey off of the bottom of the pot, he made it into the shape of a man.
Certainly not in his own image, because that would be too perfect.
When the man was done, Ursurus Sneezed.

And what a Sneeze it was. Man awoke, and was horny. "Hey Dude," he called "Make me something i can fuck"
Ursurus was a male as well, and understood the need.
Grabbing air from the sky this time, as to make a fairer creature, he once again mixed it with honey, and woman was made.
Man and woman fucked. Had shitloads of babies. The Earth was populated.
Other creatures were made over time, whenever Ursurus became bored. Looking at the wonderful genetic diversity we have today, this appeared to be ALL THE TIME.

Finally, one day, He decided He would make a creature in his own image.
He created Four of these "Bears" and sent them unto Earth.
While the Four had Ursurus image, they did not have his sense of caring, nor his appetite for Honey.
They craved flesh, and being in the image of The Perfect One, had no trouble acquiring it.
Ursurus saw what was happening, and at first he laughed. "This shit's better than the Tee Vee!" He cried. But suddenly He realized He sorta almost liked man, and was far too lazy to make him again.
So he found a man, with a wife and 2 sons. He said "Hey. Find a tree. A big one. Climb it. Take some animals, i don't want to do this shit all over again"
So they did. Their names are not important, for they are simply humans.
And they were saved, for the moment.
Ursurus regarded his Four Bears.
They were...Too perfect.
So he decided to split them into a multitude of smaller, less powerful bears. Black Bears, Grizzly Bears, Brown Bears, and Polar Bears, to name a few. Once they had been split, they were not as dangerous, and humans could live with them as long as they stayed away from the fuckin Bears.
But Ursurus did not want the humans to get too lazy
The Mighty Ursurus giveth, the Mighty Ursurus taketh away.
While he had diminished them in power and size,
Bears could now climb trees.

Death -|- Bound

jozi parue — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 02:52:16 GMT

DEATH -|-BOUND

Chapter 1: INTRO

------Like a mist of night; Death grazed through the sands of California, his cloak hung over his head covering his face. A patch of darkness followed him wherever he went, like a river it flowed through the landscape of what was once the U.S.A. But now it was nothing more then a outcome of one of Anzmw[Anndz-Mow] failed projects. Earth was once filled with life, but it is baron in this present. Only Death and a few trillion machines remained.

------Death suddenly stopped in is tracks, the sand started to vibrate beneath him. A loud screeching roar started to fill the once quite air of the desert. Some sort of machine appeared in the distance, it was moving toward Death. The machine moved by using rubber strapped wheels(like on a tank). It had a square torso that had text that read: KilloBot and it was standing at 5�6. It had two arm like limbs with circular saws where the hands were, while wearing a skull with antenna sticking out of the eyes.

------Something dark started to form in Death's hands. It was a long thin black object with one tip having a trident, and the other baring a scythe blade. Death started to slowly twirl and twist the weapon in his hands. And then Death started to glide across the sand towards the machine. A loud siren started to boom from the machine one Death was five feat away from it. The eye holes of the skull glowed red and its saws started to rotate. The whole torso started to spin while the wheels and head stood place. It started to move faster and faster towards Death who at the time was standing still.

------The saw was about to obtain contact with Death, but Death jumped back and slashed the scythe blade at the machines head. But the machine somehow ungracefully leaned back and fell on its side. Death stood over it and struck the trident head into the torso. The machine then shut-down. This was Death's final mission before descending to the heavens where the humans were held.

There time had come, so Anzmw called forth Rapture.

------This mission was to annihilate all human technology; so Anzmw can create new life, like he did many times ago with many different Death's. Death started to glide across sand once more, but something came out of the bushes. Death was about to summon his weapon, but he was to surprised at what he saw.

Two girls and three males stepped towards him with fear in their eyes. Nothing could have been worse...

The Shore

Blackest Night — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 02:19:46 GMT

This story focuses on two characters, both of whom are male homosexuals. If this sort of thing bothers you, either refrain from reading this story or overcome your discomfort. The story is not remotely finished and likely will not be complete for quite some time. I will post one chapter per post, to avoid overloading you all. Extreme critique is welcomed, but I can't say I much expect it.

---

It was a bit of a cold day, not yet rainy but the clouds above were a warning gray that sent most people indoors. Distant peals of thunder, heralded by far and sudden flashes, rolled across the sky as frothy waves crashed against the dock. A flag flopped and fluttered in the wind, the sharp snaps of favric an odd beat to which Aaron set his pace. His boots, thick and warm, thudded against the paved street. Jeans covered all below his waist but his feet, held fast to his body by a black belt of faded leather. The rest of him was bundled up in a coat, black and warm against the air. Green eyes peered out from beneath a nest of short-cropped brown hair. He was huddled against the coming chill, hearing the voices around him through the muffling cloud of a reverie. He�d taken this walk often, past the boathouse, along the pier, always after work, and always with a faint and growling hunger in his stomach.

A loud bang and a half-stifled swear shook him from his routine stupor. The source was unseen, and Aaron continued on his trek towards his house. Another bang, another swear. He looked around again, and down the road on the left was the form of a very irritated man ramming his open palm against an equally resistant door. He was a tall man, though as Aaron grew closer, he saw the man was a few centimeters shorter than himself. The man was dressed in a leather jacket, open despite the wind, and dark blue jeans below a torso covered in a faded green shirt. As he struck the door in frustration once more, a necklace on a short silver chain thumped against his chest. Another swear emanated from the man and curiosity got the best of Aaron.

�Hey!�

The man jumped a bit and looked around, hazel eyes beneath a furrowed brow. Those eyes scanned the area, landing on Aaron, the annoyance in them replaced by curiosity. The two men stood on opposite sides of the road, and so their conversation began in shouts.

�What?�

�Why are you banging and swearing and all that?�

�What?�

�What are you trying to do?�

The man huffed, gesturing with a passionate jab of the finger at the door. �I�m trying to get home!�

Aaron stared for a moment, then nodded congenially. The man returned to his door and Aaron stared at his back. He remained there for a minute or so, listening to the bangs and swears. There was another noise, quieter, the jingling of keys. Aaron sighed and having nothing better to do, strode across the street. He tried to peer over the man�s shoulder to the problematic door, looking past the man�s tawny hair to see what sort of fight the portal was putting up. The man stuck his key in, turned it, and tried to open the door. Again, he was met with failure.

�Damn door doesn�t work. Hinges�ve been rusted for months and the damned landlord won�t do a thing about it!� The man shouted the last part towards some high window, glaring at empty glass before returning his attention to the issue at hand. Aaron watched for a moment, thinking.

�Well� here, try the handle again. I�ll push against the door.�

He sidled up against the man, resting his shoulder against the wood and planting his feet firmly into the ground. The man looked to him, surprise mixing with relief in his eyes, and nodded. �On three.� He said �one,� preparing with all the readiness in the world to twist that doorknob and have a stranger tackle the door itself. The number �two� passed his lips and Aaron braced himself further.

�Three.� He turned the knob and Aaron pressed hard against the door. As if mocking them, it opened with ease, and Aaron fell rather unceremoniously onto the threshold, letting loose some strange cross between a swear and a grunt. The stranger snorted with laughter at the sight, his mouth turning up in a smile quickly covered by his hand to avoid embarrassing Aaron further. Aaron himself remained on the ground for a moment, contemplating his luck before getting up and attempting to make light of his own misfortune.

�Well, got you in alright.�

The man nodded, still smiling as he put his keys in his pocket. He bent down, lifting a duffel bag from the sidewalk and slinging it over his shoulder. Aaron dusted himself off and looked about the foyer for a moment. It was an apartment building, obviously. The narrow entrance led to a set of stairs, flanked by thin banisters that crept up the wall alongside it. The walls, a pale yellow striped vertically with white, went out of sight along with the stairs, leading to the rest of the building and whichever residence this stranger called home. His mental exploration was cut short by the man�s voice, and the presence of a fairly rough hand extended in greeting.

�That you did, much obliged. Em� name�s Derek. Derek Brodie.�

Aaron shook the man�s hand, introducing himself as Aaron Fletcher. He withdrew his hand after the shake, placing it in his pocket and standing there rather awkwardly for a brief moment. Derek stared at him quizzically for a moment before grinning and pointing up the stairs.

�You�re welcome to come in, you know. Smell takes a bit getting used to, but you deserve something for that tackle of yours.�
Aaron broke out a smile, shaking his head and waving the hand not in his pocket dismissively. �Nah, got a busy day ahead of me. Just got out of work, but that doesn�t mean I�m done working.�

Derek nodded, offering a handshake once more. �Alright then, have yourself a good day. See you around.�

The men shook hands once more and Derek ascended the stairs, still enjoying the memory of Aaron�s fall. Aaron himself watched the man vanish past the corner of the stairs and stepped out into the street once more, leaving the door behind him open. A loud crack of thunder tore across the sky, and the rain began to fall in light and pleasant drops.

Reaching Puberty

MangaCrazy101 — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 22:02:07 GMT

Ok first off, I apologise if the name... offneds or is bad to anyone, I just like the name for this story :3 It's original and it does contain alot of sexual references... well I'm not sure yet but it's mentioned all the time so yeah... here goe's. I wright long chapters...

Chapter 1:
Why is my life complicated?! I am a year ten student at Fianuyra High school. I’m in all the top classes (besides math of course), I’m a quiet achiever, my best friend's a guy and my twin hates me. To put a cherry on that wonderful life I have no breasts what-so-ever and I am the clumsiest girl you will ever meet. I’m Keiko Hurada.

So you're thinking 'yeah sure how is your life bad', let me tell you you’re not living it. Of course I’m boyfriend-less, have been and most likely always will be. It’s one of those things where all the guys were absolute idiots, yeah were. Isn’t it funny when you look back at your first day of school ever and see all the people you know now eating play dough, playing kiss chasey and the girls running running real fast cause the boys had coodies. It’s weird to see how much we’ve changed though our habits are kinda the same if you substitute the play dough for smokes, kiss chasey for frenching and the coodies for extreme hotness, then yeah it works.
We had just arrived home from holidays, the long holidays were my best so far mum took me and my sister to America, even if it was a business trip for her, it was fun city for me. Except the fact that Yumi was a total stuck up the whole time and just wanted to shove unknown guy’s tongues down her throat. Me? I went sightseeing, San Fransisco is beautiful and universal studios would have to be one of my favourite places. But as you know the two months and a half of vacay had to come to an end and so we did have to return to Japan.

Fianuyra is the smallest town in Japan it consists of 2, 347 people, like I said it’s a town not a village. We have a public high school and a private high school. On the first day back my alarm on my phone played “Sanctuary” by Utada Hikaru, her music is madly awsome. I heaved myself out of bed and beat Yumi to the shower. “I’m the eldest, I should go first!” After quickly having my shower and getting dressed I sat down for breakfast. Mum always cooks breakfast on school days and I always ate it.
I looked curiously around the kitchen, our clean, empty kitchen. Yep no delicious pancake smell, no fry pan, no mum. I saw a note on the bench, leaning over to it I fell off my stool. “Ow...” I groaned, holding my head. I managed to stand up without falling over again. ‘Yumi and Keiko make your own breakfast and don’t be surprised if I’m not home tonight. Work emergency. Love mum.’ Well, that bites, I‘d have to wait for Yumi as I can’t cook.

I sighed as Yumi flipped another pancake. “I can’t believe mums not here on our first day of year ten...” I muttered to Yumi. She turned to me with an annoyed expression. “Grow up, she can’t always be around.” She passed me a plate of pancakes with butter and syrup. I took a bite and praised Yumi, I had to admit mum was a great cook, but Yumi passed great in many ways with her cooking. “I wish I could cook like this.” I said licking some syrup off my fork. “You’re not even allowed to touch the kettle, little own the fry pan.” My sister sneered. I glared at her, it would have been ok if she joked about it but she didn’t, even if it was true.

After my wonderful breakfast I grabbed my pack, lunch and roller blades and waited for Yumi. She locked the door after checking everything was ok. We always walk together, always. I started to walk out the drive way when a car pulled up at our little suburban house. Yumi walked past me and got into the passenger seat then frenched the guy driving the red... I don’t even know what car it was, I’m not into that stuff. Then without a wave or any acknowledgement of me, they sped off. Well so much for 'always' walking together and who the hell was that!?

“Who was that?” I spun around on my heel to see a kind of familiar face; blue eyes and shaggy mouse-brown hair. “Hiro-kun!” I squeaked excitedly, I barely recognised his voice little-own him. “Oh so it’s Kun not bakka now?” He teased me; I was still on the shock of him FINALLY reaching puberty. I laughed nervously and put my blades on. “How is it I go away for the holidays and you can’t even wait till I get back to change.” I played along. Hiro Tomari is my best friend and man did I score... wait did I just say that?!
Hiro always was a skinny boy, no meat and no muscles, never brushed his hair and always loved baggy clothes. His mouse-brown hair now was more mouse-brown with blonde streaks, (I’ll so ask if they’re natural) Broad shoulders and not skinny as-such now he’s not total all out buff but you can see he has done some exercise. His arms now had some muscle still not what you would call major hot but still. Something other than his appearance was different, his attitude had changed too; I could tell by just looking at him he had gained self-confidence, he had a nice black bag though he always used to have a red one and how I said he always wore baggy stuff, nup he wore a tight black shirt that you could easily see his broad chest in and he wore normal jeans.

Myself? I wore my dark blue hair (yes its natural) in long pigtails that fell down onto my chest , that which didn’t matter cause I didn’t have any anyway. I wore a pink heart t-shirt and baggy black cargo pants. I wasn’t the skinniest girl in our year but I was definitely under weight. I had my much loved skate shoes in my bag and my heart necklace my mum bought me. I wore my friendship bracelet that Hiro made for me in year 4, the day we met. It was multi-coloured and very old, it was falling apart; I only never wore it while taking a shower. I noticed Hiro wore his too, he never used to wear it he thought it was too girly; his being red, Hiro’s favourite colour.

“So, you had a good holiday?” I said standing up after buckling my skates and skated towards the direction of the school, Hiro following on his scooter. “Yeah, it was ok, but kind of lonely without you.” I had a big grin plastered on my face, luckily he was behind me otherwise he would have seen; our friendship was more a love-to-hate. I looked back at Hiro and stuck my tongue out at him. “KEIKO! LOOK OUT!” He yelled as I turned around I realised I had reached the road and a truck was heading towards me. I tried to stop but my skates wouldn’t comply the best I could do was shield my head and wait for severe pain. I screamed and I heard the truck coming until I felt a massive blow to my right hip and I was knocked to the ground.
-------------------------------
hope you enjoyed teh first chapter >_<

Untold

Vendetta — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 12:25:47 GMT

Letter # 1

10/4/08

Dear Little Rich,

I told you I would write you! I'm not the lazy crazy uncle you think I am. After all, writing novels is hard work you know. Well to tell the truth I probably am exactly what you think I am. The only reason I'm writing this letter is because your aunt reminded me, ha ha. So how is school? I hope you're doing well. I hope your parents are holding up. Especially your dad. He promised me he would be okay and I get worried about my big brother sometimes. I suppose you would understand exactly what I mean. Anyway, I'm not really good at these kinds of things so I am going to make it short. I'm having a party next saturday ( the 18th ) to celebrate the baby being born. I'll give your parents a heads up, but I wanted to tell you first. I know they sometimes forget to ask you to plan ahead. Got to go, little Katie is really nagging me to play with her.

Stay strong,

Steve.

PS: Hi riCHArD i MiZZ YOU bYE

PS2: That was Katie. Bye.

Letter # 2

10/26/08

Dear Little Rich,

It was great to see you at the party. Katie was really excited to see her big cousin and Jude always likes to see you. Think about coming over here for a weekend so we can hang out! I could really use some alone time with a friend with the new baby around. As long as you don't mind screaming, crying and occasional vomit we'll have a blast. Maybe we can watch movies like we used to back when you were just a kid. I really miss when life was easy for you like it was then. But boy, life is sure easy for Andrew. He has about as much energy as your brother did, but when he needs a diaper change he'll just relax and let you treat him like he's a king. Hell, he might be a king one day. I don't know if they have those anymore or if they're allowed to be around, though I doubt he'll be as dumb as me. He has a cute little look in his eye already, like he knows what you're doing and he's barely a week old! I think I have the inspiration to finally start writing again.

Write me back this time!

Steve.

PS: i LOVE YOU ♥♥♥☺

KATiE

Letter # 3

11/25/08

Dear Little Rich,

Got your letter. Thanks for writing back. Took you long enough, ha ha. Anyway, I'm sorry to hear that your mom isn't doing well. Maybe I'll ask Jude to go over and surprise her with one of those cranberry pies she likes so much. Maybe I will give her a call myself. Let me know if I can do anything. In the mean time, I think there is something in the air. A lot of people have been feeling down in my house too. The baby is sick, you probably heard already from your dad. Jude hasn't been sleeping much. To tell the truth, I haven't been sleeping much either. I want you to know that even when you're depressed, you should keep your chin up. Life has too much to offer to be sitting on a couch all day watching the tube and eating potato chips and writing, Rich. I know you don't do that... but I love you little man. I want you to be happy. We still need to have that weekend together, so give me a call.

Steve.

Letter # 4

12/28/08

Dear Rich,

Good seeing you. Christmas was nice. Hope you liked your gifts. If you tell me soon enough I can get you something else. I didn't like that sweater but Jude insisted. How about I sneak you a band T next time I see you. It might be a while because the baby is so sick. I'm sure he'll be fine so don't worry about him much. Anyway, Rich... yeah. Named a character after you. Eat.Love you little man.

Steve.

Letter # 5

12/31/09

Rich,

Your father tells me that you've been skipping on classes. If this is true write me back and tell me your side of the story. College is supposed to be funn. Have fun. if you still want that band T you better write me! haha. Okay. Bye.... The babe.... misses my tit.

Steve.IT
WILL
FEED
PS: We took baby Andrew to the hospital today. The doctors do not know what is wrong yet. do not worry. he is fine i know ittland then... will I

Letter # 6

1/2/09

I haven't slept in six days. Baby Andrew will not get better and the doctors do not know what is wrong with him and i dont know what to do and im really worried but i think he will pull through - you think so? i think so. i mailed that band t did you get it I ordered it online. if it didnt show call me when you get this letter. Andrew is crying, I have to stop wrting now bye TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!!

Steve.

Letter # 7

1/20/09

I HaeVnt WrItten N Years. My last bOOk Was a totaL SUCCEss. I write in white SO NoW I'm WRITING A NEW!!! ONE? So he can't see. SINCE I STArT ThE LITTLE BAbE ANDrEW IS SIIiiiIIICK. SO SIck. IN the BooK a BaBy DiEEEESSS. I crY --------- mayevb i'll stop writing. MAYBE I WONT.

Stevieeee

PS: You're in my book.

Letter # 8

2/22/09

Richard,

The baby's death has changed me. I am empty. I tried to stop writing but something eggs me on to continue. It is like I am a magnet and I am pulled to fridge. Faint at first, powerful when I get closer. If I walk by my den I absolutely must enter. Jude says I write for hours on end. Days, she says. I don't remember doing it. She cries for hours on end. Days, I think. We're even. She is worried about me and she is so sad. Katie does not understand what happened to Andrew. I do. He was taken by the thing that I have created. A thing that I birthed without first giving it a meal, and now it must feed. It is my worst nightmare. Now my son is gone. I am gone. Gone like his bastard.Richard, farewell. I cannot stress how much I loved him. I cannot tell you in a way that will make you understand. If I do, tears will pour from my eyes until I die of dehydration.

But I will tell you. I killed my own son. Do not pursue your dreams as a writer. Imagination knows no bounds and no paper you buy will contain it. I am not

Your uncle,hungry.

Steve.

Unknown Letter

2/22/09

Hi Rich...

IF yoou get DAMNITSPELLING!
Rich the fake babe of Steve. Give me something good to eat. Rich the fake babe of Steve. Give me something good to eat. Rich the fake babe of Steve. Give me something good to eat. Rich the fake babe of Stevie. Make me something good to eat. Rich the fake babe of Stevie. Give me your meat to eat. Rich the fake babe of Stevie. Your letters smell of you.

Jude Letter

3/4/09

Dear Richie,

I know that he used to write your letters. So I will try and do what he did in his honor. He would want that. He was a great man. The loss of our love Andrew was too much, and it seems that it only adds to the burden and pain of losing your brother Drew. We all loved him very much. You loved him more, I know. The memorial is soon and I will call your parents with the time after I write this letter. I just wanted you to know that Steve left one thing behind... I would like to give it to you. I think it's a writer thing. A cute little trinket. He loved trinkets. He loved you, Richard. See you soon.
BITCH DOESNT KNOW
From Jude, PS - I'd like to see his letters, bring them to the memorial so I can read them please!
STEVIE MADE HER SON GO

Thirteen Uses For An Umbrella Without Rain

Opening

Bringing the letters seemed mandatory, but would Aunt Jude really notice the last few were missing? Rich didn't think so. Nor did he think that she would ask him for it if she had known there were more. Either way the problem unfolded it was best ( in his eyes ) that the letters he kept at home stayed at home. They weren't the nice Steve that everyone had grown to love over the years. That image he worked so hard to create would not be destroyed by Rich, his nephew and practically his son.

Rich handed Jude the letters. He had collected up to five, with what he was pretty sure to be missing only the fourth one. She gladly took them, looked surprised even, and gave him a pleasant kiss on the cheek. They parted after a few words and one last kiss, this time from both parties, and went on their way. Jude received constant attention while he crept to a small bench.

The cemetery was bright in the sunlight. Shadows appeared as faint outlines rather than darkness. The trees almost glowed with life. But when Rich began thinking, this wasn't a very bright place at all. In fact, the more he thought about the cemetery the less he was comfortable by himself... and the more he thought about his uncle. Rich threw his head back and called his best memories. Times of when Steve would watch movies with him, drive around with him, just hang out with him. These days seemed only minutes away from now, so real and full of life. As he turned to the small crowd gathering to Steve's grave, Rich realized that he would never see his uncle again. So he cried.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

tired, I'll write more later

Bitter Cold

Seeshinamaru13 — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 07:41:12 GMT

Bitter Cold
Chapter 1 - Part 1

Darkness shrouded the sky, stars became visible. Night time had crept its way over a town in Michigan. In this town houses across the neighborhoods that once emitted light from their windows now mimicked the surrounding darkness. In one such house someone remained conscious, her thoughts consuming her.

Bitter cold. The thought kept repeating over in her mind. The temperature, though frigid, was bearable. So what reason is there for such a persistent repetitious thought? Janine lied down upon the soft appeasing mattress and surrendered herself to sleep.

In the morning she woke. Throat clenched tight, painful. It was becoming so excruciating. On pure instinct she opened her eyes, her hands grasping at her neck trying to find the obstruction. Her vision was blurry; tears welling up in her eyes, a faint glimmer of light was all she could make out. She felt something warm, like hands. Some foreign being�s hands wrenching tight around her neck.

In spite of the light the sunrise provides, she could not see her attacker�s face. Crestfallen and terrified, she flung her arms around in hopes of finding something that could save her from this peril.
Her eyes closed, her strength evaporated. She couldn�t hear anything, any breathing or rustling of fabric. In the midst of her vulnerable state, she realized her hands felt unbelievably cold. Her focus drifted and all she could concentrate on was the cold sensation that was enveloping her hands.

---------
Reasons for why the first part is like this:
I didn�t put too much description about her in here, nor was there any monologue, because I wanted her to be enveloped in mystery. Of course your focus as the reader should be on various key and repetitious topics in the story. I am using this scenario to draw you in. Trust me the next part will be much more detailed.

If you would like to know the inspiration for this story its because I have a cold. Hehe. That's how my throat feels right now.

Yes I know that it's a very short part one... but like I said i'm coming down with a cold and I'm starting to feel tired, certainly my creative juices will be better tomorrow. I will write more when I have the time.

The Rain People

Ta-chan — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 03:47:47 GMT

Note: This story if based off of personal experience
Whether you believe it or not, It's still based off of my experiences in some ways.
Treat this as fiction or not, it's still a story nonetheless.

The Rain People

Ryan: Beloved

'It's been nearly 3 months since she died...' He thought to himself. Ryan stared out the watery window trying to draw up inspiration for his next article. He flipped open a somewhat tattered ring box. A beautiful ring gleamed in it's home. 'What a beautiful wife she'd had been...' he continued mumbling on, pictures of his beloved being smeared on pavement flashing in his mind. He tried to shake it out of his head for fear of bringing back too many memories. The 27 yearold journalist looked at the clock and made a decision. He grabbed a rain coat and an umbrella and fled the small apartment. His sandy blonde hair hidden in his raincoat, he walked briskly to and empty park. He sat on one side of a bench, not far from a post office. The scent of death hung in his lungs as it had the day that plagues his memories every night. Remembering that night he hung his head in sorrow, recalling the screams and bloodshed. Then, in the empty park, Someone tapped his shoulder.He looked around, but saw no one. He was tapped on the shoulder again. When he turned to face the other side of the bench, he saw what appeared to be a person, materialized in water droplets. It appeared to be a girl, and reflected in the water droplets was a face that gave him feelings of love and of great dis belief. The face of his dead beloved, obviously happy to see him.
"I've missed you, Ryan" She said with a smile

Beta readers?

whiskeyii — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 04:34:48 GMT

Is there a place to find beta readers on here somewhere? I can't find a category for that....

Lycoris

Lunyka — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 09:15:20 GMT

(I've been working on this story for a while and now it's about time I starting putting it out for others to read. I don't speak Russian and I only speak a little German so please bare with me when I use them in my writing. You can also tell that music greatly inspires me as I use a song called "Land of the Twilight" In chapter one. It in no way belongs to me. Also feel free to critique me. I'll take things into consideration and this is kinda a very rough draft so I do need some editing help. Here are the first 3 chapters, please enjoy.)

Prologue: Aleksandre Komishtlov

On a nice bright sunny day, in a seemingly perfect little suburb of Ravelton, Rhode Island, a scream rang out from one of the houses. Around 8am in the home of the Komishtlovs� a 4 year old boy awoke to his mother�s scream. He rubbed the sleepies out of his bright green eyes and he itched his scalp through his short jet black hair.

He got out of bed and carefully made his way to his parents� room. He could hear his mom speak in broken English with a German accent in a one sided conversation. She began to sound more and more panicked, and then, she was hardly understandable from either language.

He walked up to the door that was cracked ever so slightly and he pushed it open with a squeak. Him mom scooped him up and turned him away so he couldn�t look on the inside of the room. He tried to turn his in to look at what could be wrong inside the room; however his mom held his head in place to continue to keep looking down the hallway. As she was backing up and closed the door to the room he noticed that she was talking on the phone as she had to hold it against her head with her shoulder as she closed the door. She was still trying to talk with them but at this point it would have seemed if she forgot how to speak English.

�Mama, what�s wrong?� He asked her out of all of this confusion. She looked at him sternly and shook her head and with that he knew to be quiet. She brought him downstairs and as he looked around, but he couldn�t find his father around anywhere. She put him down on the couch in the living room.

�Does it have to do with Papa? What�s wrong with Papa?� He asked now kind of worried of what had happened. He saw him mom look out the window as if she was expecting something, or someone for that matter. Within seconds of her looking out the window he heard a blaring siren of which he never heard before. This neighborhood was known for its peacefulness so the authorities never really had to come around too often. His mom hung up the phone and opened the door. The paramedics came in with a bed on wheels as they followed her up the stairs and to his parents� room. They seemed to be up there for an eternity to him. Finally, his mom came downstairs and picked up Einly from the couch.

�Do you vant to say goodbye to Papa?� she asked wish a shaky voice, quite sad but, was holding back her tears. He looked at her confused.

�Where is he going?� He asked. His mom looked at him with a rather sad face, and then shook her head. She took him upstairs to see his dad. He seemed a little scared as he didn�t understand what was going on. He could tell that his mom was really unhappy about something but, he couldn�t be sure what it was.

Then the door opened, he looked in and saw his dad lying on the bed. He could tell that he was still alive but he looked as if he was in pain and, as if he was fading. His mom walked him closer to bed, she was shaking but she was trying so hard to be strong, if not for her, for her little boy. She placed him on the bed and watched her son crawl up to her dying husband and hug him.

�I�m sorry.� He said in his thick Russian accent and he hugged Einly and looked up at his wife. His mom fell to her knees and broke down in tears.

�Einly, take care of your mother for me,� He said very weakly then he looked at her. �Michelle, please calm down. Люблю тебя всем сердцем, всей душою.� Michelle looked up through her tears and slightly smiled at him. She stood up and slowly made her way to his bedside and went to lightly caress his cheek, but he grabbed her hand and kissed it.

Every time he blinked it was harder and harder for him to open his eyes again. Einly looked up at him and began to cry. Alex felt bad over this whole ordeal and looked at Einly.

�Einly, one more thing I should tell you,� He said, in hopes that this won�t happen to his son. �Do not trust your dreams.� After that his eyes closed and stopped opening. Not long after he stopped breathing and with that he was pronounced dead by one of the paramedics who was standing outside of the room but came in after the talking had stopped.

They had told Michelle earlier that they wouldn�t be able to save him because of how badly he was injured. They hid his wound under the blankets so he could say goodbye to his son but, it still didn�t help that he was missing half of his lower organs and parts of his spine during the time that his wife took a shower. No one had entered the house during that time either which was weird so when the police came they ruled it as an unsolved homicide due to the lack of evidence.

Chapter 1: The Dream

�Come with me in the twilight of a summer night for awhile, tell me of a story never ever told in the past�� said a voice which seemed to come from all directions in a land shrouded by night. A boy in his late teens of normal stature stood in the middle of a field filled with slightly long soft grass that followed the wind. His slightly long black hair seemed to follow the wind�s breath as well.

��Take me back to the land where my yearnings were born�� He looked ahead with his bright green eyes. The voice seemed to beckon him, as he started to run and the wind seemed to be pushing him back. His red plaid shirt flowed with the wind, and then he let the shirt go, flying off of his arms, to stop it from holding him back. The wind felt cold against his arms as if it was ghosts flying through him rather then the wind, but his white tee shirt and his jeans kept the rest of his body warm.

��The key to open the door is in your hand, now fly me there�� After awhile of running he grew tired, then fells to his knees from the exhaustion. He looked up and saw something in the distance.

��Fanatics find their heaven in never ending storming wind, auguries of destruction be a lullaby for rebirth�� The wind pushed him forward onto his stomach. He was tired but something was telling him to go, to run towered whatever it was in the distance. For the Voice called out to him still, it sounded familiar, but he has never heard it before either.

��Consolations, be there, in my dreamland to come, the key to open the door is in your hand, now take me there�� He had somehow managed to get himself back up. His legs weren�t wobbly or weak, but they stood as well as they did at the beginning. He continued to run and while getting closer he discovered trees.

��I believe in fantasies invisible to me�� He stopped in front of the line of trees. One thing he noticed that was strange about the trees is that they each had a door with a keyhole, all of the keyholes were crossed off and X made of blood, and they all had a name. He walked deeper into the forest and at one point he noticed that the doors on the trees were becoming sparse and was seeing just normal trees. At one point he stopped at a tree with an X on it that bore the name of �Aleksandre Komishtlov� and that caused him to feel immense sadness, as well of a sense of caution now, after all hadn�t he been told to not trust his dreams by the same man? He then walked up to one tree in particular that had no X on the keyhole, for it had his own name above the door, �Einly Komishtlov�. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound flowed out.

��In the land of misery I'm searchin' for the sign�� He turned out quickly and looked behind him, as he felt as if he was being watched. He looked at a pair of shrubs that sat behind him. He walked towered the shrubs and this giant black thing jumped out from behind them. You�d be surprised on how the thing even managed to hide behind there. It hit him with the back of its hand causing him to fly backwards into his tree hitting it hard. He fell to the ground and noticed strong pain in his head from it bashing against the tree. He reached his hand to touch were his head hit the tree and a warm liquid was smeared onto his hand as he brought his hand to his face and looked at it. He was bleeding and was now quite worried and hoped that he wouldn�t reach the same fate as his dad did. He looked up at the black thing and it looked like a giant rabbit. It was standing on its two hind legs and had claw like fingers. It had a long jagged tail and ears, and it had two round eyes which glowed a deep dark blue. It looked at him with a very toothy grin and all of its teeth were fangs. �Are you smarter then your father or, just as stupid?� asked the beast in a voice that seemed pieced the young teen�s mind.

��To the door of mystery and dignity I'm wandering down and searchin' down the secret sun�� He stood up and this time his legs did feel weak, in fact his whole body did however, he managed to stay standing. It was quite obvious on what this thing came here for just by the way it was standing. It wanted to fight him. The boy looked back at the evil rabbit and had asked himself, how was he supposed to fight him? He sure was no match at strength. He frantically searched for a weapon of some sort on his body but, unfortunately he found nothing and the creature seemed to move towered as a blur of pure blackness and it pinned him up against his tree.

��Come with me in the twilight of a summer night for awhile, Tell me of a story never ever told in the past�� He all of a sudden felt immense pain. He screamed out as loud as he could but was silent, his nails dug into the tree and gripped it hard, tears rolled down his cheeks as he screamed out without a voice. He started the bleed out of his mouth and felt the warm liquid move from the middle of his chest down to his legs and he started having a hard time breathing as well. He looked down to see what had injured him and he saw the arm of the creature sticking out from his body. His legs easily gave out but, he was caught by the creature from falling. To keep him upright the creature held him up by his hair.

��Take me back to the land where my yearnings were born�� He felt the claws move around inside him as if it was searching for something. It hurt to feel one of his lung torn apart and to feel the scratches left on his heart from being manhandled from the inside out. He tried his best to keep a straight face, but his lip would soon be pierced if he tried to keep it up for any longer then 30 seconds he has already tried to. He screamed out in pain some more with it getting harder to breathe or even move. His ribs broke in many places but the cracking could not be heard.

��The key to open the door is in your hand�� The arm slowly pulled out to reveal the creature�s hand which in turn revealed a key. The creature held out the key a bit teasingly. �If you get it can you put it in the hole?� The boy quickly grabbed it from the creature and in turn the creature dissipated into the night with his smile leaving last. He collapsed as felt himself fading kind of fast he managed to drag himself up by the keyhole and hurried to try to shove the thing into the keyhole of the tree with his name. He missed a few times due to shaking of his limbs but finally got it in. He used his weight to turn the key and opened the door. Wind blew him away from the opening but he held on and pulled himself into the door then closed his eyes, to which he heard the last of the voice ��Now take me there, to the land of twilight.�

Chapter 2: The Aftermath

After he went through the door in his dream is when he woke up. He felt so exhausted from the whole ordeal he was amazed that he did even wake up. However, something wasn�t right. He found himself on the floor in front of his closet wearing the same clothes as he did in the dream, he felt numb and weak all over, and he felt the warm wetness of his own blood.

�Had this really happened?� He thought to himself. He looked up at his alarm clock to get the time. He was late for school and his mom had just left for work since it was 8:30. He normally woke up and left before his mom would even wake up for work and he knows that she checks on him everyday before she leaves for work because out of all the times he slept in his mom would always wake him up and drag him out of bed. So does that mean that during the dream he wasn�t even there? He wasn�t even sure at this point.

He heard a car drive out of the driveway through his open window; he broke down in tears and tried to yell out but only raspy gasps came out. He forgot that he could hardly breathe. He knew he was going to die if he couldn�t get any help; in fact he wasn�t sure if he could survive if he had help.

He threw his hands in front of him to try and use them to crawl to the window and that�s when he noticed it. He still had the key he took from the monster in his dream. That was another difference between now and how his dad died. It seemed to be all connected, the mysterious injuries, his mentions to not trust your dreams, all of it. His willpower to survive shot upwards tenfold; he refused to die in the same way his dad did so that way him mom wouldn�t lose him. He needed to live for their sake.

He made his way to the opened window and dragged himself up to the window sill and looked out the window. The crisp autumn breeze flowed through his hair as he felt it move along his face. He saw his neighbors outside arguing over the fact that the kid wanted to skip school for the day. How he hated how that 14 year old boy treats his mother with such disrespect but it was his one chance to get help. He looked down at the ground from the second story window as his eyesight started to turn fuzzy due to the immense blood he was loosing. He tried hitting the screen but with no success. He gradually hit it harder and harder, putting more of his weight into it until the screen bent right out of the window.

�!!!� Was all he could think before he hit the ground. He fell out the window with the screen and right in the sight of his neighbors. They stopped their argument and both looked at him with a sight of shock on their faces. He looked right up at them with a sad and distressed face and tried to reach out towered them but he shortly passed out right after that.

He woke up again to hear sirens and feel himself moving inside an ambulance. Even through he was awake he was too tired to open his eyes but he could hear them talk. He heard them talk about his mother and how they felt bad for her to lose two people she cared about in the same way. He wanted to cry but no tears came out and that is when he passed out again.

He later woke up in a hospital bed getting blood transfusions in one IV and fluids in the next. He could hear his mom and a doctor talk behind the screen, so he looked over at them to hear them better. He wanted to know how bad it was.

�..No I refuse.� His mom said �Look vhat he just sufferd. You can�t just perform experiments on him.�

�But ma�am, his wounds healed so fast and left no scar. Don�t you know how many people we could save if we knew how that happened?�

�I don�t care, He izt only 16 and I am his mother. Come back und ask him yourself vhen he turns 18!� And with that his mom pushed away the screen to get to him and saw him awake. She ran to his bedside and hugged him while crying tears of joy.

�Gott sei dank, dass sie besser sind!� she said to him and he smiled and hugged her back.

�I�m glad that I was able to live for you.� He told her and that caused her to smile. �Ve vill be able to leave after you get all of your blood back and re-hydrate.� He nodded and he relaxed there with his mom to what seemed to be a few hours. After the nurse came in and unhooked him and gave them the ok to leave, they left. They talked while in the car on the way home.

�You can take ze veek off und vatch out for a Dr. Bradley Narclon. He vanted to perform experiments on you but I refused.� His mom said

�Thanks, but why the week off?�

�Vell, I think you could use it since vhat happened.�

He smiled at that fact as they pulled into their driveway. Once home they both cleaned up his room of most of the blood using bleach and coke then they took turn taking showers with him going first. While his mom was in the shower he found the key that he held when he woke up that morning; he picked it back up and hid it in his room to find out what it went to later. After that he said goodnight to his mom and then he went to bed and slept throughout the night without a dream.

The Black Widow (formerly The Crystal Lake): Chapter 4 posted

Almagest — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 08:08:04 GMT

EDIT: Last version sucked. This one's much better, I'm happy to say =D

Chapter 1

I wanted to smash my alarm clock against the wall�I had absolutely no desire to go to school today. But Dad would kill me if I asked to stay home.

I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom, where I noticed my reflection in the mirror. The brown of my eyes was barely visible since my eyelids were fighting a losing battle against gravity, and the sight of my hair made me regret taking a shower last night and going to bed without drying it. It stuck up in odd directions and at strange angles, forming a tangled mess of brown hair. I resembled a cross between a lizard and It from the Addam�s Family.

Yawning uncontrollably, I started my morning routine in half-asleep zombie mode, not fully waking up until some heavy metal song started blaring from my brother�s room at an absurd volume.

�Thomas!� I shouted over the music as I pounded on his door. �Turn that noise down!�

The door opened so quickly that I almost hit him in the nose with my raised fist.

�Noise?� he asked accusingly, clearly annoyed. His unmanageable dark brown hair and the crazed look in his gray eyes gave him a positively deranged appearance. �That�s Master of Puppets for your information and�.�

�Alright! It�s not noise!� I hastily amended, my hands up in an attitude of surrender. �Could you at least turn it down a little bit?�

He rolled his eyes, muttered something about how he guessed he could, and then smiled at me and rumpled my hair like the loving, annoying older brother he was. �Hey! It�s messed up enough as it is!� I yelled, slightly disgruntled yet amused at the same time. As he walked over to his stereo to lower the volume, I stood in the doorway and peered around.

Stepping inside Thomas�s room was like entering another world. Various band posters covered the walls, from Black Sabbath to Iron Maiden to Metallica, plus other bands I didn�t know. A broken drum set slumped in the corner beneath the window, a relic of one too many cover sessions with his friends. A battered guitar and a bass that had seen better days leaned against it. A short-circuited amp occupied the other corner between Thomas�s cluttered desk and his unmade bed. It was here that Thomas placed his prized stereo system, the only thing in this room that looked like it still worked. With all these instruments, one might think that Thomas and his friends practiced here. But oh no, Dad would never allow that. This was simply their storage room for their broken equipment since it took up the limited amount of space Matt had claimed in his mom�s garage.

�I�m surprised Dad let�s you keep all this stuff,� I remarked in wonder.

Every day, Dad and Thomas argued about the same issues, bouncing between Thomas�s friends, to his music, to his grades, and back to his friends. Dad was not pleased that Thomas�s greatest ambition in life was to become a songwriter and create a metal band, to hell with his prospective colleges. He was always making some biting remark about Thomas becoming a murderer or devil-worshipper or something.

Thomas didn�t respond to my remark. I looked over at him and saw he was still staring at his stereo. He seemed to be wrestling with himself, as if he wanted to say something but wasn�t sure how to say it. Or if he should say it in the first place.

�Hey�Megan�� he began hesitantly, not looking up.

�What?� I asked, puzzled.

A pause. �Nothing,� he finished lamely.

��Nothing�?� I echoed incredulously.

�Yeah, nothing,� he mumbled. Then he looked up and gave me his characteristic half-smile. �Now get outta here! We gotta get ready or we�ll be late for school.�

~

I stared forlornly out the window of Thomas�s truck as he drove, dreading the school day before me.

�What�s the matter with you?� He chuckled. �You look like you�re heading for your funeral or something.�

�Something like that,� I sighed.

�Oh, c�mon!� he protested jokingly. �You gotta give me a better answer than that.�

�It�s a whole lot better than �nothing�,� I quipped just to shut him up.

Silence reigned for a full minute before I finally caved. �It�s my history class today,� I revealed with a resigned sigh. �We�re debating the ethics of war.�

�Ah,� said Thomas, comprehension dawning. �And Andrew�s in your class, isn�t he?�

I nodded.

Andrew Carter and I had a longstanding feud, starting from when we began going to school together at age six. Ten years of venomous name-calling, mean-spirited pranks, and cruel jokes. With some vandalism of personal property thrown in for good measure. Like the time he and his basketball buddies dismantled my bike and hid its parts in the park. In retaliation, my friends and I spray painted their precious backboard a bright pink.

Our fathers also loathed each other for reasons unexplained. Their mutual hatred simply was. Sometimes I wondered if they had hated each other before they became neighbors. Moving in next door to your mortal enemy just to spite him seemed like something they would do.

�Let me guess,� Thomas said, his voice heavy with irony. �You and Andrew are on opposing sides of this war debate. And you�re losing. Badly.�

�That�s the gist of it,� I sighed again. �I�m against war and he�s for it. The stupid patriot that he is,� I finished scornfully.

�This may seem ridiculous to you,� Thomas carefully broached, �but have you ever considered looking at it from his point of view?�

I ripped my gaze from the passing houses and stared at my brother in disbelief.

�I�ll take that as a �no�,� he said as he returned his attention to the road.

�What, are you taking his side?� I asked accusingly.

�Not necessarily. I�m just saying you should be more�open-minded.�

I snorted derisively. �Open-minded? With Andrew Carter? That�ll be the day,� I muttered, resuming my empty stare out the window.

~

�It�ll be fine,� Mikayla assured me as I headed for history class.

�Yeah, sure,� I responded feebly, lagging behind.

Mikayla stopped and gave me an exasperated look. �Come on,� she exclaimed. �It can�t be that bad.�

�Oh yes it can!� I retorted. �You�re not in my class. You don�t know what it�s like�.�

�Alright, enough with the pity party!� she declared as she grabbed my arm and dragged me to the classroom.

�Traitor,� I joked once we reached the doorway.

�Yep. Here, let me pull that knife out of your back,� she offered as she pantomimed the action.

�Oh, thanks, I feel so much better now.� I rolled my eyes and smiled as I realized I actually did feel a little better.

�See you after class,� Mikayla said with a reassuring smile as she headed for math.

I ceased to feel better once I took my seat. I could see Andrew�s dark brown, almost black hair from across the room. He stood with his back to me as he talked animatedly to his friends, but Josh, his right-hand man, pointed me out. They turned as one and sneered at me.

�Is the self-righteous pacifist ready to lose again?� Andrew shouted across the room, opening the hostilities.

�Shut up, you delusional warmonger!� I snapped back.

�Oooo!� he mocked with his hands in the air in a show of fake fright. ��Warmonger�. That�s quite a big word for someone with such a small brain. But you probably spent most of yesterday afternoon coming up with that,� he taunted, a malicious grin lighting up his face.

I fumed silently, unable to form a comeback since I actually had spent a good chunk of time on that insult. Luckily, the teacher came in at that moment and spared me further embarrassment.

�Alright, we�re continuing our discussion on the ethics of war today. And let�s keep it civil this time,� he admonished us with meaningful looks at Andrew and me.

I thought we did rather well on that front. No raised voices or name-calling this time around. Our debate was essentially identical to yesterday�s though. And endless cycle of the same arguments and counterarguments. Dad had given me some good points at dinner last night though, so I felt more prepared as I opened the debate.

�War involves killing on a massive scale, not just soldiers but civilians as well,� I stated. �Such massacres are needless. Negotiations, compromise, and civilized discussion can be used to solve problems between countries.�

�But what if a country doesn�t want to negotiate?� Andrew countered. �What if war is the only way to preserve a people�s freedom?�

�Many countries today are against that,� I argued. �If one country threatened another, the democratic countries would rise as one and prevent such a catastrophe by threatening to declare war.�

�So you would use war to prevent war?� Andrew asked smugly.

�No, I�m talking about threatening to declare war. Not actually doing it.�

�But then a country would have to declare war if the invading country wasn�t deterred by that and said �Screw you! We have weapons, allies, God, etc.�.�

�Why the �what if?� situations, Andrew?� I asked condescendingly. �Don�t you have a concrete argument?�

�My �what if?� situations have all occurred in the course of history,� Andrew angrily declared. �Wars have been fought because of nationalism, religion, greed, you name it and someone�s gone to war over it. We don�t live in a utopian society. Yes, war is bad in many respects. But it is a necessary evil in our world. As long as we have countries that disagree, we�ll have wars in one way or another. And the only way we�d all agree, like a bunch of goody two shoes, is if we were ruled over by some all-powerful tyrant. He would act like a father-figure, controlling us and preventing us from speaking our minds. We�d be forced to agree with him or face his wrath and violence,� he proclaimed with a pointed glare at me.

How dare you! Dragging my personal life into this! Just because I obey my dad doesn�t mean he�s a dictator! Oh, if only looks could kill�

The rest of the school day passed uneventfully. Unlike yesterday, hardly anyone repeated Andrew�s insults to my face�but I did hear �self-righteous pacifist� a few times as I walked by clusters of people.

Thomas had a free period for his last class this semester, so he always left school early to head to Matt�s. This meant I had to ride the school bus. With Andrew Carter. He had totaled his car a few months ago and his parents refused to buy him another one.

My school bus always arrived last to take us home, so the bus platform was nearly empty. I took advantage of the opportunity and marched up to Andrew, exclaiming, �That was a really cheap shot you took in history today!� My breath formed a smoky fog before me in the cold, winter air, creating the illusion of an angry dragon approaching. At least, that�s the impression I wanted to give.

He turned around to face me with an amused expression. �I have no idea what you�re talking about,� he stated calmly, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes. Oh, he knew full well what I was talking about. I glared up at him, wishing I were at least 6 feet tall instead of 5� 3� so I could look him directly in the eye.

�You were talking about my father, weren�t you?� I whispered accusingly, more a statement than a question.

�What do you think?� he heatedly whispered back. �I saw your dad beat��

�You saw nothing!� I cut him off, slightly panicked. This conversation wasn�t heading in the direction I had expected.

�Denying what I saw doesn�t mean it isn�t true,� he argued, glaring at me. Not out of anger�more like disgust. �Your dad hits your mom and you know it.�

There. He had said it. The awful truth that only my family knew about. Or so I had thought.

�How�d you find out?� I asked angrily.

�Your dad�s not exactly subtle when he hits his wife in front of the kitchen window.�

�So you were spying!�

�I just walked by at the right moment!�

We were no longer whispering and the few people around were starting to stare. Andrew took a step closer to me and lowered his voice once more. �Why haven�t you or your brother gone for help?� he asked accusingly.

�Why haven�t you?� I shot back in an angry whisper.

He clenched his jaw so hard I thought his teeth would crack under the pressure. �Because�because it�s not my place!� he spit out. �I�d help if I could,� he muttered, staring at the ground.

His last statement caught me by surprise. He�d help if he could? �Why?� I asked. �Why do you want to help?�

He looked up and said, �Because it�s the right thing to do. But I can�t help�your mom won�t let me.�

�You talked to my mom about this?!� I cried, my voice rising in pitch as I reached the end of my question.

�Of course I did!� he responded, anger in his tone once more. �Someone had to do something!�

�Well, w-we don�t need your help!� I sputtered.

�Good! �Cause I�m done offering it!�

~

Dinner that evening was unusually silent. Mom was always quiet, but she hadn�t said one word all day. I tried to catch her eye, wondering if I dared talk to her later about Andrew. But she kept her head down, her long blond hair obscuring her face. I kept glancing at Dad and Thomas too, surprised that they weren�t arguing. It had become something of a dinnertime ritual. Plus, I had been hoping their customary fight would distract Dad�.

�So how are your classes going, Megan?� Dad asked stiffly, as if he really wanted to ask something else but couldn�t.

I stared at my plate, desperately wishing I could disappear. Did I dare tell him that I was close to failing most of my classes? Or that I was definitely failing math?

�Oh, they�re fine,� I lied, hoping my voice was convincingly nonchalant. I looked up and spotted Mom looking at me suspiciously, indicating my fib had failed miserably. Luckily, Dad wasn�t really paying attention. He obviously had something else on his mind.

�Good, good,� he murmured. �And what about your classes Thomas?� he asked pointedly. Here was the question he had wanted to ask.

�Straight Ds,� he declared, sounding almost proud of this fact. �I�m thinking about dropping out next semester,� he casually interjected before Dad could respond.

It�s a good thing I wasn�t holding anything in my hand at the time because I would�ve dropped it in shock. What is Thomas thinking?! Dad�s going to kill him! He blew up at him when Thomas mentioned not going college�he�s really going to lose it if Thomas doesn�t even finish high school!

I braced my hands against the side of the table, ready to push myself away and run once Dad exploded. The event looked inevitable. Dad�s face had turned a splotchy red, his angry words ready to burst out in a volcanic eruption. I wouldn�t be surprised if he hit Thomas this time.

Thomas calmly met Dad�s angry glare and a self-assured, smug little smile appeared on his face. �Careful,� he mockingly admonished. �If you throw me out or hit me, I�ll just go stay at Matt�s place.�

My eyes widened in disbelief. Thomas�s insane! Dad�s going to beat him to a pulp!

But Thomas�s words seemed to have affected Dad. Instead of yelling or hitting anyone, he just angrily stood up and marched from the room. Thomas continued to smile smugly to himself, like he had a secret weapon. He picked up the salt shaker and used it to knock over its pepper counterpart near Dad�s plate. �Checkmate,� he murmured, chuckling, before standing up and leaving as well.

I looked over at Mom and saw she was just as shocked as me.

�What was that all about?� I breathed.

�I have no idea,� Mom whispered.