Saturday, December 31, 2011

Hey Look a Post

This is not a story.  I forgot that it's New Year's Eve today, and totally forgot to write something.

2011 was probably the best year of my life so far.  There were bad parts, but the good parts out weight those by, like, a million. And because I forgot to write a story or a poem, here's two quotes by one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman:

"May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness.  I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you're wonderful, and don't forget to make some art - write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can.  And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself."


"I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you'll dream dangerously and outrageously, that you'll make something that didn't exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked, and that you will have people to love and like in return.  And, most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now), that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind."

I like these quotes.  These are good quotes. And now go look at Neil's hope for this year, because I'm too lazy to just put it in here myself:

Thanks, Mom, for that link :)

So yeah. Let's make 2012 as good a year as 2011 was! :D

Until the apocalypse kills us all and we all come back as zombies :P

Friday, December 23, 2011

The Apocalypse

The Divine and Diabolical powers got impatient and tried to bring about the End in 2011 instead of waiting until 2012. The world came out of it OK, but there's one particular unidentified immortal being who isn't very happy about all of this. And she has something to say about it.

Happy Holidays, everyone :)

The End had come and gone, and really, the world wasn’t much better or worse for it.  There were just a lot less people and a lot more zombies.  But that was okay, most people reasoned.  Less people meant more resources – thus better lives – for the survivors, and more zombies meant that zombie hunters had more prey to hunt.  So really, the End hadn’t been such a bad thing.

Of course, that was all in the perspective of humans, and humans couldn’t be trusted.

Anna and Alex were sitting in a diner together.  Alex looked like a fairly normal young man.  Perhaps he did scowl a bit more than usual, and yes, perhaps his eyes were an unnatural red, but people these days had learned not to judge.  He was glaring out the window at the hazy drizzle.  Alex didn’t like the rain.

He glanced over at his companion.  Anna was holding a newspaper in front of her face, and her fedora was pulled low over her dark eyes.  Alex knew that even if he spontaneously combusted, she would probably just ignore it.

A zombie stumbled into the diner, roaring and gnashing its teeth.  Four zombie hunters sitting at the bar spun around on their spinning stools and shot it repeatedly until they were sure that the undead was really dead.

Alex yawned and sipped his coffee.  Anna turned a page in her newspaper.

“You'd think,” Anna said after a while, folding her newspaper shut and setting it down carefully on the table, “that people would be talking more about the fact that we just experienced Armageddon.”

“You know what they say.  ‘Talk is cheap, but a wise man chooses when to spend his words’.”

“Yeah, and when that wise man is getting his throat torn out by zombies because he was too much of a prick to scream for help, I’ll be laughing.”

Alex’s eyebrows slowly traveled up his forehead and were quickly concealed by his fantastic hair.  “Someone’s not happy.”

“I’m not paid to be happy.”

“You’re not paid at all.”

Anna sighed huffily and glared at him.  “I wasn’t looking forward to the End, okay?  I quite liked the world the way it was, thank you.  But there wasn’t much I could do about it, considering that I was stuck upside-down in a supply closet until the actual day of the End.  So what I thought, while the blood was rushing to my head, what I thought was, ‘Okay, the world is going to end.  Too bad.  But at least it’ll be something new and interesting, to see the world during the rapture.’  And guess  what, Al?  It wasn’t interesting.”

“…Anna,” Alex said.  “The seas boiled.  The ground shook.  People died.  The dead were raised.  Volcanoes exploded.  And you’re telling me that you were bored by it?”  He shook his head.

Anna spread her hands.  “I expected the world to be left in more carnage.  Obviously, it’s not much of an apocalypse if there’s still civilization after it.  Besides, there was not clear winner.”

“A truce was called,” Alex sighed, resting his cheek on his hand.

“Exactly.  In all our millennia of living, Alex, you ever hear of the Divine and Diabolical powers calling a truce?  I think not,” Anna shot back.

“Well, whatever.  I think we can agree 2011 was a pretty rubbish year for the End to come about.”

“They should have waited until twenty twelve.”


I love winter break. It gives me time to work on my book. Obviously, I take advantage of this time and do what I always do, and that is slack off xD I should just compile all the things I write when I'm procrastinating and try to get it published as a short story book.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Rapid Eye Movement

"People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles.  Dreams are real.  But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes."

- Neil Gaiman


Ren could feel herself.  She could feel the crisp, pastel blue sheets crinkling under her as her muscles tensed, could feel the warm weight of the comforter wrapped in a messy nest around her body.  The mattress was doing what all good mattresses do and was sagging comfortably under her weight.  There was a fluffy pillow under Ren’s head.  Somewhere in her mind, she was perfectly aware of all of this.  A part of her knew that she was asleep and dreaming.

The lights were going out, one by one.  All the students were being ushered out of the school.  It was nighttime.  ‘How?’ and ‘Why?’ didn’t come into it.  It was a dream, and dreams didn’t need to have a point.

The floor was glowing green.  That was bad.  Something bad was going to happen when the entire floor turned green and when the lights all went out.  For some reason, Ren wasn’t running away like everyone else.  There were people stuck in the school’s lower level.  Someone needed to go save them, and in dreams, the dreamer was always either the victim or the hero.  Ren was the dreamer, and right now, she wasn’t a victim.

Something in the outside world jolted Ren, trying to bring her back to consciousness.  But the dream wasn’t letting go.  It tugged and pulled at her, like the rough waves of the ocean, keeping her from waking.

The stairs were all green.  The antagonist of this dream didn’t want to be beaten.  Ren swung her leg over the balustrade and with a sort of terrified, excited scream, she slid down the railing.  Her no-longer-white sneakers flew out in front of her and caught the rushing floor square in the face.  Momentum was nonexistent right then, and she didn’t go tumbling into the wall.

The ghastly green light began creeping out from the shadows, reaching slowly for her.  Ren took off at a run.  The thing hiding in the dark wouldn’t wait much longer.  She was playing a game against time and she was losing.  It was a dream, but the sense of urgency was scarily real and overpowering.  The orchestra room.  There were people trapped in the orchestra room.  Ren wondered how she knew that
But in dreams, you just know things.

Ren’s mind lurched again, balancing precariously on the edge of consciousness.  She didn’t want to wake up yet, though.  Too many of her dreams were ended at the wrong times.

Someone was calling after her.  She recognized the voice, but couldn’t place its owner.  They were telling her to come back.  But Ren’s legs wouldn’t let her.  Dreams were powerful, especially when a lucid dreamer decides not to take control of their own dream.  The dreams sink their claws in then.  They realize they are in control and go power-crazy, refusing to be dominated.

‘You had your chance,’ the dreams say.  ‘You had your chance and you didn’t take it.  It’s our turn now.’

Ren flung over the doors of the orchestra room.  Someone screamed.  A mass of shadow rushed at her face.

She woke up.


This is how I spent my day: sitting on my couch, looking up quotes by Neil Gaiman, contemplating irrational fears and other aspects of life, and finally, writing this. Sometimes I think I think too much. Basically, this was a way for me to organize my thoughts about some things. When I dream, I'm a lucid dreamer. I almost always know that, yes, I'm dreaming, and nothing is real, but I don't take control of my dreams like some people do. A common accompaniment to lucid dreaming is rapid eye movement cycles. REM sleep has more "creativity" than NREM (non-REM) sleep, and dreams that occur during REM are more easily recalled.

Over the past few days I've been having loads of dreams (I don't dream that often). The dream that Ren endures during this story is quite similar to one I had last night, though mine had the Harry Potter cast in it (I don't know why). The "bodily awareness" that is described in the beginning isn't something that happens normally, I think. I get it a lot though. Just last week, during a lovely dream about a zombie apocalypse, I was perfectly aware that I was sleeping on my fist, which was jammed in my tummy. Also, Ren's name is just me changing the last letter of REM. Did anyone notice that? (Oh my God, why is this so long?)

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Distorted Cages - A Poem

Title is kind of crappy :( Ignore it, I couldn't come up with a better one. Here's another poem. I swear I'll have a happy one up soon! But read this for now. Haven't been able to write poetry since my poem spam last month. It feels good to write like this again.

Rusted, locked up bird cages
Breeding places for old rages
The glowing light seems so surreal
Death has already closed the deal
While broken hearts steadily bleed
Betrayal plants a sullen seed

The pressure tears at happy minds
And individuality meets its binds
Heartless jailers stand alone
Trapped in silent jails of their own
Humans are sheep, with gods as herders
You never forget the eyes of a murderer

Good reasons don’t exist anymore
The only ones given are sad and poor
There isn’t anything worth anything left
“Death” will always rhyme with “breath”
The clock is running out of precious time
And everyone is guilty of the same crime

The longest word used to be “smile”
But now it doesn’t stretch a mile
It doesn’t stretched out of sight
And crumbles under the weakest might
A pathetic, worthless, melancholy gesture
It only helps old wounds fester

It’s ridiculous how pathetic we are
We don’t take care of the land we scar
So many now have nowhere to go
Choking to death in the endless snow
Even if tears are shed
Blood will still always run red

Cruelness is so easily shown
Nobody has a good thought to loan
There is no significance in a single tear
And every day is lived in fear
Mechanical laughter and brainwashed thoughts
Has anyone even considered the cost?

Is this what we are, so blatantly conceited?
The human spirit is so defeated
Is this the definition of a good world?
It’s a place where evil plots are easily furled
Rain and petals float softly to the ground
Just cover your ears – block out the sound

A broken person doesn’t speak
Once strong thoughts become weak
There is no border between hope and despair
Dreams are torn down without a care
The gates have finally swung tightly closed
The final song has been composed

Through a distorted lens, a perfect world is seen
People go on what they just barely glean
Incorrectly, a criminal is hung
The dead sing what can’t be sung
It doesn’t matter how loud you cry
We still don’t know what it takes to fly

Sunday, November 6, 2011

The Adventures of Holly Quill and a Penguin: Part One

Well, here's the first part of a side fanfiction revolving around my OC, Holly. She doesn't get much love. I mean, Soot at least had a cameo appearance in "Pushing Up Daisies", which Thalia is featured in, but NO HOLLY. So I decided to introduce her with a bang. Well, not really a "bang", more like a rampaging rhino and a crazy penguin. In Australia.

For some odd reason, Holly wasn’t very surprised when she found herself clinging to the back of a rampaging rhino for dear life on a Tuesday.  There was just something about Tuesdays.

All the zoo-goers were running around screaming.  Or, at least the adults were.  Holly felt sorry for them, somewhere under her feeling of ‘Holy bananas I’m riding a rhino oh my God oh my God.’  The kids were all either laughing like maniacs, standing there like idiots with their mouths open, or bursting into spazz dances of terror.  It was amusing.

The rhino, which Holly had named Rick Riordan the Raged Rampaging Rhino (Tiddlywinks for short), roared.  It sounded like a freight train.  A very angry, rhinoceros-y freight train.  Holly wasn’t entirely sure it was a real rhino.  Tiddlywinks may very well have been a monster in the disguise of a rhino.

“Should’ve listened to Sharon and bought that book on magical beasts,” Holly grumbled to herself.  “Then I’d know if this stupid thing was real or not.”

Apparently, Tiddlywinks did not appreciate being called ‘stupid’.  It came to a sudden, screeching halt, bucking its rear end into the air.  Holly was too busy thinking about what books she should read to find out more about magical creatures when she got home and didn’t notice herself go flying into the air.  Only when she reached the height of her arch and was upside down did Holly realize that she was no longer clinging to Tiddlywinks’s armored back.  The next realization was that she was flying.  Holly just had time to think ‘Look Ma, no hands!’ before she went crashing into the icy water of the penguin enclosure.

Anyone who has ever gone flying face first into the pool in a penguin enclosure knows that it feels rather like belly-flopping onto concrete.  Very cold, wet concrete.  But as most people had probably not ever done such a thing and didn’t know what it felt like, Holly considered herself to be special, as only a couple unlucky souls in all of history had probably been doomed to share her fate.  In fact, she might have even been the only one.

“I’m the Chosen One!” Holly shouted, but the fact that she was still underwater made her ridiculous claim sound only like a bunch of bubbly gurgling.  Realizing her mistake, Holly used the water to guide herself to the surface.  Her head broke the surface, and she gulped at the air ravenously.  Holly let the water push her to the edge of the pool, as her hair was plastered all over her face and made seeing rather difficult.  If she just tried to swim, she’d probably end up drowning.

Holly dragged herself onto the dry, rocky, blessedly solid ground.  Tiddlywinks was still causing anarchy, but that could wait until Holly had caught her breath.  After she had regained feeling in her limbs, Holly moved her hands around ridiculously in the air.  The water evaporated from her clothes and hair, leaving her contently dry.  She didn’t need to move her hands like that, but it was fun nonetheless.

Her hand suddenly flew to her face, and she successfully punched herself in her nose.  Sometimes, she wondered if her IQ really was 208.  Maybe there had been a smudge on the result paper and Holly’s IQ was only actually 8.  Sharon always said that whenever Holly managed to get her foot stuck in the leaf blower.  But then again, Sharon was the one who had run screaming around their house with a butcher knife, trying to kill a fruit fly.  Holly’s aunt was strange.  But punching herself had revealed that, yes, Holly was wearing contacts and had left her glasses at home – she hadn’t lost them.

A penguin walked over and pecked Holly’s head.  Holly twitched and glared at the penguin.  “Go away.  I’m not a fish.”










Raaahhhh!  Stop pecking me!”  Holly flailed back and forth, waving her limbs around like she was having a seizure.  After a few minutes of spazzing, Holly flopped back onto the ground and looked triumphantly at the penguin.

It pecked her again.

“You,” Holly hissed, “are one persistent penguin.”



Holly pushed herself to her feet and started looking for a way out of the penguin enclosure.  The persistent penguin followed her around, occasionally pecking her hand.  Holly found a latter, then looked at the penguin and sighed.

“Oh alright.”  She picked it up, tucked it under one arm and scampered up the latter.  She jumped the little fence around the enclosure and walked off whistling, as though screaming people, random penguins, angry rhinos named Tiddlywinks were part of her everyday life.

The ground in front of her exploded.
Holly screamed and fell over as a large chunk of concrete hit her head.  She felt the blood run down her already bruised face, dripping onto her shirt.  When the loud, offending noises and flying bits of road seemed to have come to an end, Holly warily pried her eyes open.  The sky was very blue.

She dragged herself to into a sitting position and held the penguin – which was somehow completely unharmed – in front of her.  “You okay?”

The penguin nodded, which was rather creepy.

There were footsteps – not running footsteps, just footsteps.  They were coming towards Holly, but quite honestly, contemplating the nodding of her penguin was far more interesting than looking up at the person approaching.  She was probably going to get killed like that someday.

“Are you alright?”

The person talked funny, like all the people here in Australia.  Holly looked up and gazed at the person blankly.  It was a young man, probably around twenty five years in age.  He needed a shave, had brown hair, bright green eyes, and a long brown jacket.  He looked completely normal.

Then again, he was holding a gun and was the only person besides Holly who wasn’t having a heart attack right now.

“Are you a mage too?” she asked.  Holly already knew the answer, but she figured asking was politer.

The man smiled.  “Yes, I am.”

Holly nodded.  “Cool.  I’m an Elemental.  I don’t think you are.  Not sure why.  Call it a women’s intuition.  You exploded the road.”

“Of course I did.  It was awesome, for one thing, and there’s a rhino running loose for another.”


“What?”  The man looked confused.

“The rhino is named Tiddlywinks,” Holly said, standing up.  “Well, that’s short for Rick Riordan the Raged Rampaging Rhino.”

“The zoo named a rhino Tiddlywinks.”  The man shook his head.  “What is the world coming to?”

“No, I named the rhinoceros.  What’s your name?  Mine is Holly Quill.  I’ve been referring to you as ‘the man’ in my head, and it’s getting rather troublesome.  I want to know your name.”

The man looked at her skeptically.  “How do I know you aren’t trying to kill me?  Hell, it may well have been you who set ‘Tiddlywinks’ free.”

Holly rolled her eyes.  “I risked brain damage by the road you exploded to protect this annoying penguin, and I’ve just gone for a rodeo ride on the rhino that landed me in a pool of water.  No, I won’t kill you.”

“So we’re on the same side here.”


“And if I just walk away?”

“I’ll follow you around, singing in horrid Spanish.”

“You’re not leaving me with any choice, are you?”

“That’s not how I operate.”

“Damn.”  The man shook his head and held out his hand.  “Israel Elysium.”

Holly shook Israel’s hand.  “Holly Quill.”

“I know that already.”

“And now you know it again.”

Tiddlywinks roared, surprisingly close.  Holly jumped in the air and screamed, still somehow clinging to her 
penguin.  Israel just whirled around.  The rhino roared again, probably mad at being ignored, and charged.
Israel obviously had more sense than Holly did.  He realized that shooting the horn of a rhino would probably have little to no effect, and that it would take some time for a charging rhinoceros to change course.  He sprinted around the giant hole in the road, well out of Tiddlywinks’s way.  Holly, however, stood there gaping at the rhino and did what most people would have considered to be the stupidest thing in the world – she closed her eyes and held the penguin in front of her for protection.

Surprisingly, the rhino skidded to a halt.  Israel’s jaw dropped.  The rhino seemed to the staring at the penguin and shaking in fear.  Holly opened her eyes, wondering why she hadn’t been impaled yet.

“…Tiddlywinks is scared of my penguin,” she whispered in awe.  She slowly circled around the rhino.  It turned with her, keeping its eyes trained on the penguin.  When Holly advanced, it backed up.  In her peripheral vision, Holly noticed Israel waving his arms back and forth crazily and mouthing something at her.  Unfortunately, he was too far away for her to see what he was trying to communicate.

What?’ she mouthed back.

Israel spazzed some more, mouthing the same thing to her.  She still didn’t get it, never halting her advance on the rhino.  Holly didn’t have to wait long to find out, though, as just then Tiddlywinks fell in the hole in the ground with a loud crash.

Holly blinked in surprise.  “Oh.”

Israel walked over, dragging his hand down his face in a comical manner.  “I was trying to tell you to watch out for the hole.”

“Well, we caught it, didn’t we?”

They peered over the edge of the hole.  Tiddlywinks was unharmed, though it did look rather angry to be in a hole.

Holly looked up and noticed some people in uniforms hesitantly approaching them.  “Uh oh.  Zoo keepers.  They’ll deal with Tiddlywinks.  Time to scram, Israel.”  She wrapped her arms more firmly around her penguin as they walked away.

Israel frowned.  “Are you going to put the penguin back?”

“No.  It’s my penguin now.”

“The rhino was scared of your penguin.”

“That it was.”


Holly snorted.  “That’s like asking ‘What the hell is a Hufflepuff?’  There is no answer.”


“Was the rhino a real rhino?  I thought it might be a monster.”

“No, Tiddlywinks wasn’t magic.  It was just a really pissed off rhino.”

“Cool.  By the way, why did you blow up the road?”

“Because I was…” Israel’s face fell.  “Oh crap.”

“What?” Holly asked.

“I was chasing a serial killer.”

“Ah.”  Holly nodded like this happened every day.  “And now he got away?”

“I do believe so.”

“Then let’s go find him!”

“…You want to spend your Tuesday chasing a serial killer?” Israel asked incredulously.

“I don’t exactly have a social life,” Holly replied.

“Do you need parental permission?”

Holly shook her head.  “My parents are in Alaska.  I’m here with my aunt.  She won’t really care.  I’ll call her, but all she’ll say is something along the lines of ‘Don’t die.’”
srael nodded.  “Alright then.”  An explosion sounded from somewhere past the zoo gate, accompanied by a large dust cloud.

“Was that your serial killer?” Holly asked.

“Probably,” Israel said.  “Go put the penguin somewhere, then we can go.”

“No way.  Harry Potter is coming with us.”



“You named the penguin.”


“You named it Harry Potter.”


“That’s the best you could come up with?”


“We should probably go get the serial killer now, shouldn’t we?”


“Is that all you can say right now?”


Thursday, November 3, 2011

Pushing Up Daisies - Part Three (OLD VERSION)

This is a part of my fanfiction. Nothing really happens - Mir, Kallista and Israel are just pulled into this whole thingy. I don't like this part much. It isn't written well. The next part will be better and longer, I promise.

Israel Elysium leaned against the counter of the kitchen of Elysium Asylum.  The morning was quiet – it was early, and most of the residents here hadn’t woken up yet.  That was nice.

There was a sudden loud yowling noise, causing Israel to jump.  A crash followed, and then silence.  Israel looked around the kitchen in confusion, wondering if a drunken mage had trodden on Mar while she was in cat form and if it was worth investigating.  After a few more moments of silence, he shrugged.  Mar was able to take care of herself.

Israel frowned suddenly.  Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t seen Mar in a few days.  Sure, Elysium Asylum was huge, but Mar usually sought him out to yell something random at him, and then dash off before he had even processed what she had said.

Mirtil Lucifer trudged into the kitchen just then.  Israel hadn’t known Mir for long.  She was Mar’s friend and had been escorted to Elysium Asylum by the flaming haired shape shifter a month or so earlier.  Today, her normal grumpy morning expression was replaced by a slightly disturbed look.  Her eyes were wide, eyebrows drawn together, and her mouth was twisted into a sort of half-grimace.

“Morning,” she said distractedly to Israel.  The short girl plopped down into a chair, staring off into the distance.  Israel raised an eyebrow at her.  Mir didn’t notice

“Did you hear that cat yowling?” Mir asked after a moment, the creeped-out expression fading from her face.

“Yeah.  I think someone stepped on Mar.”

Mir looked at him with an odd smile, like she was concerned for his mental health.  “Mar hasn’t been here for a few days.  Anyway, the cat was right outside my window, scratching at the screen.  It woke me up.  I threw something at it.  Are there any stray cats on the property?  It didn’t look like one of the shape shifters.”

“Well, no, I don’t think there are any- wait.  Mar isn’t here?”

Mir shook her head.  “She went to go get Thalia.  Said she needed her for something.”

“Thalia?” Israel asked.

“Our friend.  She’s a mind reader.  I think you’ll get along with her.  She likes baby chicks, though.  A lot.  I don’t know how that will work out.  And she always knows where people hid their cookies.”  Mir smiled at the confused look on Israel’s face.  “Oh, and I want pancakes.”


“Pancakes.  Me.  Want.  Now.”

“Mirtil, I’m not making you pancakes.”

“Oh yes you are.”

“Hell no.”

“Language, Israel.  There are children around.”

“What children?”

“The one hiding under your bed.  His name is George.”

“What are you on about?”

“What?  You don’t know George?  For shame.  I’m shunning you now.”

Israel regarded the girl with a mix of awe and annoyance.  “I don’t really care.”

“I’ll stop shunning you if you make me pancakes.”

“It’s not happening, Shorty.”  A butter knife flew by Israel’s face.  He scowled.  “Hey!  What was that for?”

Mir started cackling madly.  Her brown eyes turned a murderous red.  “Don’t…call me….SHORT!”

“Good morning sunshine!  The Earth says hello!”  And with that, Kallista Pendragon bounded into the room and tackled Mir off her seat in a hug.  “Who wants a morning noogie?”

“No!” Mir shrieked, struggling against Kallista’s death grip.  “Don’t touch my head!  You’ll make me shorter!”

“Aw, c’mon Mir!”

“NO!  I will eat your hand!”

Kallista paid no attention to this warning, however.  When she brought her hand close to Mir’s head, the smaller girl reacted on true animal instinct – she sank her teeth into Kallista’s hand, growling like a dog.

“Ouch!”  Kallista pulled her injured hand away.  She spotted Israel and grinned, proceeding to do the same thing to him.  The only difference was that he didn’t bite her.

“Good morning Kallista,” he greeted calmly.

“HEY, I’M HOME!”  A small blur flew into the room and tackled Mir, who had just stood up, back to the ground.

“A little warning next time would be greatly appreciated,” Mir muttered grumpily, but she hugged March Pathway back nonetheless.

Mar bounced up, grinning like a lunatic.  She gave Kallista a hug, then came up to Israel and poked him in the face.  “I forgot you had stubble.”


“You need to shave.”


Mar pulled a face at him.  “Suit yourself,” she said, the suddenly spazzed.  “Everyone!  Guess who I brought with me!”

Kallista looked at her hopefully.  “The ice cream man?”


“The muffin man?”


Kallista puzzled over this for a moment, then her face lit up.  She snapped her fingers.  “The muffin ice cream man?”

“N- hey, that’d be awesome.”  Mar gave Kallista an approving nod.  “But unfortunately, no.  I brought Skyril!  Guess who we found together?”

Mir spoke up.  “Sanguine?”

“Nope.  We found Thalia!”

And Skyril and Thalia walked into the room.

Israel was pretty sure the second girl was Thalia.  He knew Skyril very well.  Thalia was someone he had never met, but who else could the other person be?

“You need to rest,” Skyril was saying sternly.

“Did the soldiers of the American Revolution rest?  The answer is no!  They took no time off, and neither shall I!  I need to find my brother and kick his ass all the way to Polaris!” Thalia exclaimed heroically, just before she tripped over one of the laces on her combat boots and fell on her face.

Mir walked over and poked Thalia with her foot.  “Smooth, Thal.”

Thalia looked up at Mir.  “I’ve never seen you from this perspective.  It’s odd.”

“Someday, Circe, I will be taller than you.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Um.  Okay.”  Kallista nodded, like this all made perfect sense.  Israel just thought they were all insane.

“So what happened?” he asked, trying to ignore the fact that Mar, Thalia, and Mir were all making weird faces at each other.  Israel looked back and forth between Skyril and Mar.  “It shouldn’t have taken so long for you to get here.”

“Mar said something about ‘finding’ Thalia.”  Kallista looked at her friend in concern.

“Thalia got kidnapped,” Mar said simply.

Mir groaned.  “Again?”

Thalia dropped her face back onto the ground and proceeded to start dragging herself across the floor with her arms.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”  Her voice was muffled by the floor.  “Skyril, you tell them.”

Skyril looked at her friend in amusement.  “You’re lazy.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that statement, Miss Oblivion.”  Skyril rolled her eyes, but recounted the tale nonetheless.

“Whoa,” Mir said after the story was over.  At some point, they at all migrated to the living room and were currently seated on comfy chairs.

Kallista turned and looked at Thalia.  “I don’t like your brother.”

“Join the club,” Thalia said, waving her hand around.  “Still…there was something in that graveyard.  It was probably using the story of there being something in the graveyard to cover up its presence.”

Skyril looked at Thalia, startled.  “You didn’t tell me this before.”

“I just remembered.”

“You do you know there was something there?” Israel asked skeptically.

Thalia turned and looked at him for a moment.  “I could feel it,” she said simply.

“So you’re just going on a feeling?”  That didn’t sound very promising.

“No,” Thalia said.  She tapped the top of her head.  “I could feel it with my mind.  I am a mind reader.”

Israel leaned forward, lacing his fingers together.  “Alright.  So.  What exactly did you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Thalia said.  “It didn’t think.  Not really.  It wasn’t human and it had never been human.  Its job was to find something really important and kill anyone who got in the way.  I don’t know what it was looking for.  I only felt it for a second.”

“Then what happened?” Mir asked.

“It disappeared.  It went poof.  It teleported away.  It vanished.  I don’t know.  One moment it was there and the next it was gone.  I think my brother put it there.  He would do something like that.  Kidnap me and put something creepy in a graveyard.  I don’t like him.  Did I mention I don’t like him?  I don’t like him.”

“So what do we do?”

Thalia grinned.  Israel immediately knew that grin meant she was about to drag them all into something very idiotic and dangerous.  “We go monster hunting!”

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

The Old Bus Stop

I promised you a story, didn't I?  Well, here it is. In my LA class, each quarter (of the school year, AKA nine weeks), we submit a free choice of writing. This is what I wrote for mine. If you all want, I'll continue this on here. This story was written while I was listening to this music: , and inspired by the fact that in some movies by Hayao Miyazaki, train stops/lampposts/buses are often used as important things/places, like in the Spirit World in Spirited Away, my personal favorite movie, or the Neko Bus in My Neighbor Totoro, which partially inspired the bus in this story. Read and enjoy. Lastly, sorry if the spacing's all wonky. I typed this in Google Docs, and was too lazy to do real reformatting on Microsoft Word.

Ada hurried through the streets..  It was cold out, and the setting sun didn’t help at all.  She had missed the bus that would take her within reasonable walking of her house, and she didn’t feel much like sprinting across the city in the dark in the dark.

The chill bit through her old jacket.  Ada gritted her teeth and tugged the fabric tighter around her.  She couldn’t complain much, though.  It was better than being stuck outside in a dress.  She still couldn’t understand why her mother was insisting that she wore dresses.  It wasn’t the 1600s anymore, for God’s sake.  But for whatever reason, her mother was stuck in the past, and so Ada wore her brother’s old clothes.

There weren’t many people out now, which was odd.  This was downtown, wasn’t it?  She realized that, having gotten lost in her thoughts, she hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going and didn’t know where she was now.

“Great,” Ada mumbled, brushing her hair out of her face.  She stopped in her tracks and thought about her options.  She could try to find her way back, but there was a chance she’d get even more lost by doing that.  She could look for a phone box and call her parents, but she wouldn’t be able to tell them where she was.  Or she could ask someone where the nearest bus stop was.  After a few moments of deliberation, she decided to go with the last option.

The problem was, there was only one person around now.  Ada didn’t believe in the saying, “Never talk to strangers,” but she would have felt more comfortable doing it in a crowd.  She didn’t exactly have many other choices right now, though.

Ada walked up to the person.  “Excuse me,” she said in what she hoped was a confident voice, “do you know if there’s a bus stop somewhere near here?”

The stranger turned to face her.  It was a boy around her age.  He stared at Ada quizzically, making her feel like she was being examined.  She shifted uncomfortably under his piercing gaze, tugging her conductor’s hat lower over her eyes.

The minutes stretched by.  Just when Ada was about to give up and walk away, the boy spoke.

“I know of one a few minutes walk from here,” he said slowly, as if he was uncertain if he should be telling her this or not, “but I don’t think you’d like to go on the bus there.”

“No, it’s fine,” Ada told him, relieved he had finally spoken.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Yes,” she sighed, exasperated.  “I really need to get home.”

The boy hesitated for a moment, then shrugged.  He pointed down the road.  “It’s that way.  Just keep walking, you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”  Ada turned to start walking.

“Oh, Ada, wait!”  She spun back around to face the boy.  He rummaged through his pockets, then held a small slip of paper out to her.  “You’ll need a ticket.”

“I have a pass...” she said, puzzled.

The boy shook his head.  “No, trust me.  You need a ticket.”

“Alright?”  Ada took the ticket hesitantly.  Now, usually when someone takes a piece of paper from someone else, they feel the pressure of the other person’s hand release.  Not this time.  In fact, the paper didn’t even feel all that solid to Ada until the boy’s hand released.  She stared at it for a moment, before lifting her head and giving the boy a shaky smile.  “Thanks.”

He smiled back at her.  “No problem.”

Ada hurried off.  She felt the boy’s gaze on the back of her head, but something else was bothering her.  Only when the gaze was no longer on her did Ada realized what it was.

“How did you know my name?” she called, looking over her shoulder.  But the boy was gone.

Ada rubbed her eyes gently.  Pale blue shapes had been appearing in her vision for a few minutes now, and it was getting annoying.

The ticket the strange boy had presented her with was still clutched tightly in her hand.  She didn’t know why, but she felt that if she let go of it, it wouldn’t be real anymore.  It was a silly thought to have, especially now that there were more people about and that she was beginning to recognize where she was again.

The bus stop suddenly came into view.  The boy had been right - there really was no missing it.  The metal pole was very tall - at least three times Ada’s height.  It’s dark gray paint was worn, but not chipping.  A old-style lamp shone from the top of it, and a second lamp hung from a beautiful swirling arm about three quarters of the way up.  A few decorative metal vines and leaves were placed here and there, like on the swirl and below the top lantern.  At eye-level with Ada was a large old sign.  It was cracked and bent, but the word “BUS” was still very clear on it.  The pole was captivating.

Ada tore her eyes from the bus stop and gazed around.  She frowned.  She most definitely knew where she was now - in fact, she passed through here at least once a day, and she had never seen the bus stop before.  But it seemed familiar to her, in an odd way, as if she had seen it during her childhood and couldn’t recall it clearly now.  A nostalgic feeling overtook her, just as a large pale blue shape flashed through her vision.  She scowled and rubbed her eyes again.

It didn’t seem as though the bus would come very soon, so, after checking both ways up and down the street, Ada turned and watched the people walking down the sidewalk.

“Carlos!” she cried, suddenly recognizing one of the people as her older brother.  He ignored her, however, and kept walking.  Ada frowned.

“Hey!” Ada shouted after him.  Still nothing.  She scowled and ran after him.  As soon as she was within arm’s distance of Carlos, she reached out to push him in the back.  Her hand didn’t collide with her brother, though.  It just slid right through him.

Ada skidded to a halt.  Carlos kept walking, and her hand slid out of his back.  She would have screamed, but them something even more miraculous happened.

As he walked, Carlos began to fade from a detailed person to a pale blue, translucent silhouette.  Ada blinked rapidly, trying to see if it was a trick of the light.  It wasn’t.  She gazed around frantically, but all the other people had faded as well.  She was the only person who was still solid.

A soft rustling noise came from behind Ada.  She turned slowly, almost scared of what she might see.  Instead, she was entranced.  It was something  she had never seen before, something that didn’t exist.  On all fours, it was shorter than the bus stop, but Ada was certain it would be taller than the pole if it stood on it’s hind legs.

Ada studied the creature carefully.  It had a snowy white plate for a face, complete with a sharp beak and two large, black holes for eyes.  From behind the plate sprouted large, pale tan feathers, creating a sort of mane.  The feathers got smaller quickly as they traveled down the creature’s long neck.  They continued along it’s lean body and down it’s dragging tail.  Large wings sprouted from it’s back.  The legs were feathered down to the knee, where they turned smooth and white.  The feet were a mix between human hands and bird feet - five fingered and jointed, but with long, hooked claws at the end of it’s toes.

“What are you?” she murmured softly to the creature.  It swung it’s head around to face her, boring into her with it’s dark eyes.  For some reason, though, Ada didn’t feel threatened.  She instinctively knew that thing wouldn’t hurt her.  It gazed at her for a while longer, before simply walking past her.  She stayed perfectly still as the creature passed - not out of fear, but out of respect.  She didn’t even turn around to watch it when she heard it spread it’s wings and take off.

Ada walked back to the bus stop just as the bus turned onto the street.  She only jumped a little when the headlights blinked to reveal startlingly green cat eyes.  The bus rolled to a stop in front of her.  Ada gripped her ticket tighter, silently thanking the strange boy she had encountered earlier for giving her the chance to see this wonderful place.

The bus doors, which were shaped rather like butterfly wings, swung open.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Math, My Savior - A Poem

Numbers roll through my head
Shapes are drawn in my mind
Delight and satisfaction course through me
When the answer I do find

Chasing away my inner demons
Woes, angers, and other dark things
Variables, numbers – it all takes over
And I relish in the peace it brings

The answers stick out, bright as day
Never failing to be there
Even though the searching may be tough
When I figure it out, I don’t care

Postulates, theorems, formulas,
Deductive reasoning, it’s all perfectly clear
Like an invisible map only I can see
It’s something soothing, always near

Algebraic equations and geometric symbols –
Sometimes seems rather confusing
And when I explain a problem to someone
Their expressions are quite amusing

A safe haven from the rest of the world
One that I carry around in my head
The math comes so easily to me
And it softens the hardships that lie ahead

Friday, October 7, 2011

Three MORE Poems [Long author's note]

Three more poems. So proud of myself. I wrote these at, like, 8:00 a.m. because I was on a bus going somewhere with this group thing I'm in at school, so I had time to write and didn't have any classes today~. I realized why I write so many poems at one time: Either I'm in a writing mood, or not. If so, yay, things get done. If not, sucks. But yes, three more poems. Now, I want to explain these ones, so this thing here will be kinda long. But anyway. The first poem is based on a drawing I did. Simple. The second poem is about global warming. I truly believe that this is a topic most people do not pay attention to, even though it is a big thing in our world. The polar icecaps are melting, and we aren't doing anything about it. The third poem is about a lonely wolf who is forced to live by itself and wander far from home because of deforestation and human industrialization. This is another topic I think we need to pay more attention to: the protection of endangered species. Anywho, read, enjoy.

I - Silent Oppression

An angel spreads her golden wings
Thinking only of wonderful things
The raw joy of flying high
So to the ground she says good-bye

Gripping hands suddenly appear
She tries to scream, but there is no one to hear
Dragging her down from the air
She struggles hard, but her restraints don’t care

The hands cover her mouth and eyes
Muffling the angels pleading cries
Fingers dig into her frightened soul
On her heart they tug and pull

Sobbing, yet unable to make a sound
The broken angel fades away on the ground
Of the cause of her death, there is no suggestion
Such is the curse of the silent oppression

II - Polar Hourglass

Dripping slowly at first
Becoming faster, and
Water droplets trickle down
Instead of the usual sand

An intricate golden hourglass
Set upon a pedestal so high
The ice is melting, animals dying
While humans just pass on by

Ignoring what could affect us
Most eyes skip right over the bad
But for the few who do care
The loss is overwhelmingly sad

Soon something has to be done
Before we drown in a sea of our mistakes
It’ll be too late to do anything
When the polar hourglass breaks

III - Wanderer

Through a deep green forest
Soft, secretive, and silent
A lone wolf wanders

Without a pack of others
No friend or family by its side
The lone wolf wanders

Slowly the forest is chopped away
By humans who just don’t care
Yet still the lone wolf wanders

Spring turns to summer
And summer turns to fall
While the lone wolf still wanders

Fall becomes winter
Cold, dark, and harsh
And on and on the lone wolf wanders

Through night and day
All alone, yet so strong
The lone wolf wanders

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Three Poems

Here are some poems. The first one I wrote today, the other two I've written sometime in the past month or so. I've written a lot of poetry I haven't posted. I don't even like these ones that much, I don't think of them as poems, really, but they're the best of what I've written, so I'm posting them. The others may or may not be posted. See if you can pick out the references to one of my previous poems in "Dance of the Dead" ;D (note: the titles of the first two poems were made up on the spot, so they're not that good)

I - Torn Open

Sadness and anger filled up to the brim
Trying to see while the lights go dim

Clinging to hope with trembling hands
Tripping and falling while trying to stand

Drowning in an endless sea of tears
Eaten alive by childhood fears

Poison seeping into a broken soul
Burning in a fire, but feeling only cold

Blooding spilling without any end
Silence being the only friend

Ashes scattered without a care
Quaking under judging stares

Flesh clinging to stark-white bones
Trying to keep what once was its own

A broken mind, dyed crimson red
Thinking of what could have been said

Hope drifting far out of sight
Leaving behind an endless night

Slowing dying, torn apart
Embracing darkness with a heavy heart

II - Senselessness

Trying living
No beginning
No ending
Just zigzagging

Spinning around
Barely on the ground
Not hearing a sound
Just spinning around

Turning corners
Establishing borders
Just turning corners

Crying softy
Just crying softy

III - Dance of the Dead

Alone in the graveyard
With the mist rolling in
Among the towering tombstones

Begins the Danse Macabre

“For one night,”
Death says
“You will rise again,”

“And take part in the Danse Macabre.”

All walks of life
Child, king, pirate
Join together tonight

For the Danse Macabre

Child, tonight you are equal
To any adult
Tonight you may just dance

In the Danse Macabre

King, you tyrant
Tonight you will be cowed
And shown the suffering you’ve caused

By the Danse Macabre

Pirate, sir, lay down the gun
Don your eye patch proudly
And we will dance

Together in the Danse Macabre

And when the night ends
So will the dance
No reminders remain

Of the Danse Macabre

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Back to the Start

If any of you saw my blog with a new design, or saw the post I now deleted called "New Design" IGNORE IT! IGNORE ALL OF IT!

I DID change my blog's design, but I missed the old design too much. So I changed it back. But I couldn't remember a lot of things, so it took me a while to figure it out. But my blog is back to normal now! :D I still feel like there are little things off, but for now, this is as best as I can do. If there's something you notice that was different before, let me know, and I'll do my best to fix it.

Also, I have a long weekend :D Four days. I'm planning on working on a sequel to my It's Called a Hug short story.

One Thousand Words - A Poem

The rhymes are not perfect, but I don't care too much.

Even if it’s torn down the middle
Pulled apart to shreds
A picture’s worth a thousand words
Or so you always said

I was told I could string together words
And use them to paint something beautiful
But my pallet started to dry out
And my eloquence became juvenile

My words were scattered, blown away
Leaving me a picture I couldn’t paint
I tried to find the right words again
But by the time I did, it was too late

I fear I will make the same mistake
I swear to myself I won’t
You’ve already gone down that path
I can’t even beg you “Please don’t.”

It’s too late to take your hand
And I’m left standing here broken
I can’t paint you something perfect anymore
One thousand words go unspoken

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Pushing Up Daisies - Part Two (OLD VERSION)

Done, finally. Kind of silly at parts, kind of serious too, but I'm finally done. This part is kind of fast paced, yes, but it's important. You learn a lot about Thalia's past and family. Also, Soot and Mar are introduced! :D Yay! One last thing: I have changed Thalia's hair color to honey brown with a black streak, instead of black with a blond streak. I didn't want to re-do her whole bio just for this, but yeah. I honestly don't care, though, whether people write her with her new hair color rather than her old hair color. I'll use the new one, but if people choose to use the old one, so be it. And in the third flashback, Thalia has already taken her taken name.  The first two are before then. OK, enough of my rambles, read and enjoy!

Thalia sighed.  She was bored.  Over the past two days that she had been in this place (Thalia could tell that it had been two days because of her watch), she hadn’t had any other human interaction

She sighed again, closing her eyes.  It wasn’t even a real cell that Thalia was trapped it.  The fluorescent lighting and obnoxiously bright white ceiling, walls, and floor might have just given it away.  And yet here she was, chained to a chair with chains that obviously had binding spells on them.  She was powerless.

A soft click caused Thalia’s eyes to fly open.  The door handle was turning slowly.  As the door began to open, the mind reader couldn’t help feel like she was in one of those cheesy yet terrifying horror movies.  Whoever was behind the door apparently got  tired of creeping out their hostage, because it was suddenly flung open, revealing a young man in his late teens.

Do I know him?’ Thalia thought curiously, searching through her memories.  He certainly did look familiar, with his flaxen hair and gray eyes.

“Surprise!” the man cried out suddenly, surveying Thalia with a boyish grin.  He had an Irish accent.  “It was me all along!  You didn’t guess that, did you, dear?  I know you’re clever, but of all the people it could be, you would never have suspected me.  I’m good, aren’t I?”

“What?”  Thalia looked completely bewildered.  “What!?”

He titled his head, shutting the door behind him.  “You don’t remember me?  Well, it has been a long time since we saw each other, so I guess it’s not that surprising.  Why, we’ve both even lost our Russian accents!”

WHAT!?”  Thalia was seriously freaked out now.  Hardly anyone knew that she had live in Russia when she was little.  Now this stranger was saying that he had known her back then.  But as much as Thalia tried to convince herself that she didn’t know this person, something was gnawing at the back of her mind.  A long buried memory.

“Come on, remember.  Try really, really hard.”

And it all came hurtling back.


Two year old Calliope chased her older brother around the backyard.  The snow was deep, reaching up to the young girl’s waist.  So while the eight year old boy was able to run awkwardly, Calliope was struggling to stay upright as she stumbled and pushed her way through the thick snow.

“Give it back!” she cried, reaching her arms out before her in a pleading way.

Finn laughed and held the stuffed cat doll high above his head.  “Come and get it!” he called teasingly.

Calliope sucked in a deep breath.  The boy’s eyes widened, and he seemed to realize that his sister was about to call for their mother.  Which would be very, very bad for him.  Finn held out the cat doll to her.  “Here, here it is.  I was only joking.  Shush, no need to-”

Before Finn had finished, the cat doll was snatched from his hands.  The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on his back in the snow, and Calliope was hurrying off to the house, laughing.

Two years later.
“Where’s Finn?”

Calliope gazed up at her mother with wide, questioning gray eyes.  The woman sighed, and crouched down, putting her arms around her daughter.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but Finn’s gone now.  There’s nothing we can do.”

“The Necromancers took him,” Calliope said.  “Why?”

Her mother sighed again.  She couldn’t keep anything from this mind reading child.  “Someday you’ll be able to understand it better, I promise,” she said, stroking the young girl’s honey brown hair.  “But remember what your father and I have always told you: your family is your greatest ally.”

“That’s lesson number one.  Lesson number two is that your family can also be your greatest enemy.”

Calliope’s mother laughed.  “Correct, dear.”

Seven years later.

Thalia Jane Circe stumbled through the burning house.  She clutched at her sword like a lifeline, swinging it wildly at any vampires that came near her, decapitating them, slicing them open.  Her left arm was broken, her forehead bleeding profusely, but she had to get out.

Her family was dead.  Thalia couldn’t believe it.  Her mother, father, and Fay – all of them.

Thalia burst out the front door, coughing and gagging.  The smoke was clogging her lungs.  Her vision was blurred by blood and tears, but Thalia could still make out Dusk standing at the end of her driveway.  There was someone else too, but all Thalia could make out was short blond hair shining in the moonlight.

The two disappeared way before she had gotten even halfway to them.


“Oh my God,” Thalia whispered, staring at her brother in horror.  “Oh my freaking God.  Finn.  Holy crap.”

Finn laughed.  “I thought you’d never figure it out!”

Thalia gritted her teeth and glared at him.  “So.  Sixty-two years after you had Dusk and a bunch of other vampires kill the rest of our family, you decide to kill me too.  How charming.”

“Oh no, dearest little sister, I’m not going to kill you,” Finn said in a hurt voice, his eyes going wide.

“Okay, then, you want to rub it in my face.  ‘Haha, I killed our family, sucks for you.’  Am I right?”


She sighed.  “What, then?”

Her brother grinned.  “Do you wonder why I killed our family?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thalia said sarcastically, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated manner.  “You’re psychotic, I’m guessing.  Or maybe you just like killing people.”

“Wrong again, sister dearest,” Finn said with a sigh.  “When the Necromancers of our family took me away – to Ireland, in case you’re wondering – our parents didn't exactly fight to get me back.”

“Because mum was pregnant with Fay, and I was only four at the time.”

“Whatever.  I mean, I’m glad now that I was taken away, but I certainly expected more of our parents.  So, I killed them!  Ta-da!” Finn stared at his sister expectantly, waiting to be congratulated.

Thalia looked revolted.  “Uh, yeah.  Finn, you’re definitely psychotic.”

“Stop calling me Finn,” Not-Finn said, pouting.  “It’s not my name anymore.”

“Then what it?”

Not-Finn grinned.  “My name is Bob!”

Thalia burst out laughing.

Bob-Finn frowned.  “Doesn’t that name strike fear into your heart?”

“Pfft, no!  That’s ridiculous!” Thalia managed to choke out.  “Reminds me of Angel Bob from Doctor Who!”

Bob-Finn walked closer to her, his eyes narrowing.  “Well, sorry to disappoint.  But playtime’s over now, sweetie.  I’m not going to kill you yet, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt you.”

“Yes, but, here is an example of why I’m glad not to be a guy,” Thalia replied.  She gave him a sweet smile and kicked him between the legs.

Her brother doubled over in pain.  The chains binding Thalia to the chair were a bit loose, so, with a bit of wriggling, she managed to slip out of them.  She felt her powers rushing back to her.  Thalia sprinted over to the door and tried to yank it open.  It was locked.

“Oh, you really thought I’d leave the door unlocked?”

Thalia spun slowly around.  Bob-Finn was pointing a gun at her head.

“This whole thing is bigger than you think it is, little sister.  There’s more to it than just me and you.  And now you’re getting in the way, so you need to be eliminated.  No hard feelings, okay?” he said in a pleasant tone.  Thalia did the only thing she could do, because she was not getting shot – she ran forward and flung herself at him.

Thalia didn’t weigh much at all, but she had caught Bob-Finn off guard.  He stumbled backwards, tripped over the chair, and they went crashing to the floor.  The gun flew from his hand and slide across the floor.  Thalia and Bob-Finn glared at each other for a moment, then both tried to grab the gun at once.  A wrestling match ensued.  Bob-Finn grabbed a handful of Thalia’s hair and yanked her head back.  She responded by punching him in the nose.  They rolled across the floor, exchanging blows and yelling curses at each other.  Eventually, Thalia felt something cold and metal brush her hand.  She grabbed the gun by the barrel and wacked Bob-Finn over the head with it.  He fell unconscious.

“Sorry, dude,” Thalia panted, “But you never were a good older brother.”

She reached into his coat pocket, searching for the key to the door, and pulled out a whole ring of them.  Thalia glared at all the keys.  There wasn’t time to try them all.  So she aimed the gun at the lock on the door and fired.  The lock broke.

Thalia got up and walked to the door, then looked back.  She couldn’t just leave her brother there.  He might kidnap her again.  And there were still the chains…


Skyril walked down the stone steps to catacombs.  She was still slightly confused, but at least she knew where she was going.  The girl who had burst through the window had helped her get the information she needed.  The girl had then introduced herself as Soot Featherwing, given Skyril a hug, and then jumped back out the window, leaving a greatly confused Skyril in her wake.

But even so, Skyril now knew at least part of what had happened to Thalia.  Someone had employed the man who ran the cemetery to set up a fake job that only a powerful mind reader like Thalia could complete.  They even went so far as to set up fake stories of people who had failed at the job.  Thalia would come down to the catacombs, the bosses behind this whole operation would send someone to kidnap her, and then she would be moved somewhere else.  That was all Skyril and Soot had been able to get out of the man.

Skyril pushed open the heavy wooden door to the catacombs, and was met with an ear-splitting shriek.  She leapt backwards, about to throw a knife into the room, when a familiar voice called out, “Stay back!  I’m warning you, I have a frying pan!”

Skyril almost burst out laughing.  She pushed open the door and found herself face to face with her friend March Pathway.

“Greetings and salutations Mar!” Skyril called cheerily.  Mar’s face went from fearsome, to confused, to ecstatic, all in about three seconds.

“Skyril!  Hiya!”  Mar flung herself at Skyril, wrapping her in a hug.  She stepped back and grinned, twirling her frying pan in her hand.  “Do you know where Thalia is?”

“She was kidnapped,” Skyril told her.

Mar sighed in exasperation.  “Again!?”

“What do you mean ‘again’?”

“Well…” Mar said slowly.  “There was the time that Sanguine kidnapped us both and tied us to chairs.  We escaped and beat him with said chairs.  And I guess the other time doesn’t really count, considering it was Mir that kidnapped Thalia, and she just put her in a closet.  Mir was mad because Thalia changed her hammer with a rubber chicken when she wasn’t looking and wouldn’t tell her where it was.”

“….Okay,” Skyril said slowly, thoroughly concerned for her friends' mental health and deeply amused at the same time.

“Yeah…well, I found Thalia’s sword and bag!” March declared happily, pointing to a spot on the dusty floor where a struggle had obviously taken place.  True to what Mar had said, Thalia’s sword and bag were lying there.

Skyril walked over and picked up the sword and bag.  She sighed.  The two objects meant a lot to Thalia.  She slung the bag over her shoulder and turned to Mar.

“I think we need to go interrogate the guy upstairs again.”

“Okey dokey!  Off we go!”


Thalia pushed the door open, her now chained up brother tucked under one arm.  She blinked.  She knew this hallway.

“Really?  He kept me in the cemetery building thingy?  Wow, uncreative,” Thalia grumbled to herself.  Bob-Finn stirred slightly, muttering incoherently.

“Oh, shut up,” she snapped at him, bonking him on the head with the gun again.  He fell back into blissful unconsciousness.

Thalia started off down the hall, heading to the office of the man who had interrogated her, hitting Bob-Finn when he stirred occasionally.  She reached the office in more time than it normally would have taken her.  She was weak after those two days in that room, and even more tired after her struggle.  Thalia tried the door handle.  It wasn’t locked, but there was something blocking it on the other side.

“Is every door in the world impassable today?” she whined.  There wasn’t really anything she could to do get it.  Her hands were weak and sweaty from dragging her brother through a building and up two flights of stairs, so Thalia wouldn’t have the grip to try to force open the door.

She glared at the door.  She had just had a bad day.  And when Thalia has bad days, she gets violent.

Thalia dropped the gun on the floor and picked up her brother with both hands, aiming his head at the door.  He could be useful for something: he could be an improvised battering ram.


Mar placed a chair under the door handle of the office.  She leaned against the wall next to the door, waving around her frying pan threatening, so the man wouldn’t try to escape.  Skyril was interrogating him again, but it seemed like she wasn’t getting any new information.  Mar sighed, and contemplated turning into a turtle, just for the heck of it.

“Skyril, I don’t think this is necessary,” she said.  Skyril looked over, not stopping her poking of the man who ran the cemetery.

“Why do you say that?”

Mar shrugged.   “Not sure.  I just have this feeling that Thalia is gonna turn up soon.”

Skyril opened her mouth to reply, when a sudden banging filled the room.  Mar leapt away from the door in shock.

BANG, BANG, BANG!  The chair started trembling.  Skyril pulled out her throwing knives, Mar got ready to shape-shift into a snow leopard to take out whatever was behind the door, and the man gulped and hid under his desk.

The chair was finally knocked over, and the door flew open, revealing a very disgruntled Thalia.  Her face was drawn into a vicious scowl, and she was holding an unconscious young man.  The man who ran the cemetery peeked out from under his desk and squeaked.  Thalia glared at him.  She tossed her burden down on the floor.

“Happy Halloween,” Thalia spat.  Then she fainted.


Happy early Halloween, everyone!

Anyway. Soot will come in again later in the story, I think. And so will Mir. And..........well, anyone else who wants to, I guess. If you want to be in the story, just link me to your OC. I can't promise that they'll appear in the next part of the story, or that they'll have a big role. I CAN promise, however, that they'll be there, that they will appear in at LEAST two different parts of the story, and that they will have at least one speaking part in each part they appear in (meaning three or more different parts in the conversation they are taking part in).That is my offer. I can't promise more than this because no matter how hard I try, I can't make everyone a main character. OK. I'm done rambling (again).