Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Short Previews of Stuff

Some short previews of some stuff I'm working on

Ubiquitous chapter three preview:

But the damage is done by then,’ I thought out of nowhere.  ‘As the generations go on, the beliefs are instilled more and more.  We still jump at the noises of the night, glance over our shoulders, and are wary of the shadows.’

Dream Guardians part 13 preview:

“Come on, woman!” Erza shouted at Holo.  “Left, left!  Left, right, left!  Move it!  It’s just stairs!”

Holo was sprawled on the landing below Erza, gasping for breath.  “I…can’t…move.  Go on without meeee!” she wailed dramatically.

Pushing Up Daisies part one preview:

Thalia’s house was, in fact, relatively small.  And there were books everywhere.  Books on the tables, the counters, the cabinets, the floor.  Sometimes you tripped over books.  Other times, they fell on your head.

The books were a hazard enough.  Don’t even think about the explosives.

Hunger Games Fanfic chapter seven (from Nico's point of view) preview:

Okay, so, the Hunger Games.  Big deal, right?  Well, duh.  I mean, even though my District supported Katniss’ rebellion, we were still a Career District.  Once we heard that the Games would still be happening – BOOM!  All the kiddies scrambled over themselves to start training again.  Well, except Laika.  I’d only seen her once or twice before the reaping.  I don’t think she was ever at school.  Homeschooled, maybe?  No, I’ve heard that her parents are dead and she lives by herself.  Freak.


Hurray ;) More things that I haven't started one yet ([Insert Clever Title Here] - Part Two and lots of other stuff) are on the way, along with these~

Apparently, It IS A Poem, As Declared By Kallista, Ann, Skyril, and Octa.

Edit: Apparently, it's a poem. I did not know of this.

Here is the crappy bit of word-salad I just wrote. I was just typing up little poem ideas then - BOOM! This was born. Read it if you must, but remember, word-salad is highly flammable.


Think before you act

It’s not by choice
It’s certainly not my choice
So then, I ask

Why does this happen?
Can any of you explain?
Tell me straight to my face
I dare you

Tell me why you think
Why you would ever think
That something like this
Is okay

Because it’s not okay
It never has been
But you just don’t see that
And you never will


Think before you speak

Can someone explain to me
Someone, anyone
Just tell me the truth
Why forgiveness is expected?

Being forgiven isn’t free
It’s a simple truth
So why do they think it is?
Forgiveness needs to be earned

But you haven’t earned it
You haven’t even tried
Because you think you’re right
But you’re wrong

Stop spreading lies
Stop telling tales
And learn the facts
Learn about your harm


Be a good sport

You laugh at others
Because sometimes they lose
But when you do
You curse and shout

It’s not the fault of others
They just play the game
Why do you blame them?
Why can only you do that?

No one else complains
They smile and play on
It’s just a game, after all
Why do you stomp so loudly?

Just play the game
It’s not so huge
You can still have fun
Winning isn’t everything


Answer when called upon

If I ask you a question
You shrug it off
It could be important, you know

Why don’t you pay attention?
Just give me the answer
Is it really that hard?
I don’t think it is

It’s a general question
Why do you take it so personally?
Fine, I won’t bother you anymore
If you do one thing for me

I dare you to answer my questions



Sunday, June 19, 2011

Ubiquitous - Book, Chapters One and Two.

Chapter One

Admittedly, freezing up and staring right back at Hannet was probably not the best thing to do.  I don’t know how long I stood there for – probably only a few seconds – before someone grabbed my arm and hauled me out of there.

“Fellixia, are you okay?  Did the witch put a spell on you?” the person asked.  My adoptive mother, Ceres.

I frowned and looked at her in confusion.  “Yes, I’m fine.  No to the spell.”

“Well, okay, if you say so,” she sighed in relief.  Ceres brushed my long, abundant blond curls behind my ears.  “But even so, I’m going to keep a close eye on you for the next little while.”

“Okay,” I said, knowing that nothing would sway her from this.  “Can I take a walk, please?”

“Okay, but don’t stay out too late, Fellixia.  In fact, come home before curfew.”


“Who knows what that witch is going to do now that she has escaped death?  The police surely have her under control, but even so, be safe.  I’ll see you at home later.”

“Okay, bye,” I murmured quietly as she walked away with my adoptive father, Corwin, who gave me a curt nod.  People were sending looks my way and whispering amongst themselves, and I even thought I saw the judge from the trial staring at me oddly.  But I didn’t pay attention.  I was extremely confused by my adoptive mother’s behavior.  She was a logical, no-nonsense kind of person.  I didn’t expect her to believe in this….this madness.  Also, she had called me Fellixia.  Nobody ever calls me by my real name.  It’s always just Felix.

I shrugged and started off in a random direction, desperate to get away from all this, from the condemnation of the innocent.  Why hadn’t Hannet’s neck been snapped?  Why was she looking at me, of all people?  And why was everyone accepting this atrocity without question?  It did not make sense.

I must have been thinking and wandering for a long, because when I came back to my senses, the sun was going down.  It was at least an hour later, and I had wandered up to the Witch House.  I was always amazed that it was still standing after a thousand years.  The building looked the same as it always did, large and imposing.

Except for the fact that there were two armed guards standing outside the door.

Oh God.

“Miss, what are you doing here?” one asked me.

“U-um…” I stammered.  I’m not the best with people, especially armed ones.  “W-well…”

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave immediately,” he said seriously, aiming his gun at my chest.

‘Oh God no…’

“Fred, wait!” the second guard spoke up.

“What is it, Paul?” Fred said exasperatedly.

“Are you stupid or something!?  This is the girl that the witch was staring at!”

Fred nearly dropped his gun.  “You…you mean…?”

“Yes,” Paul said, nodding gravely.

I looked from Fred to Paul, Paul to Fred, Fred to Paul over and over.  “What?  What’s going on?”

Fred looked at me with awe and…was that fear?  “You better come with us, Miss.”



This cannot be good.

Chapter Two

“Where are we going?” I asked for the millionth time in the past five minutes.  Screw not being good with people.  Fred and Paul were taking me somewhere and not telling me where.  After a phone call with someone, they had thrown me in a car and driven off, but not before two more guards (apparently named Joe and Rupert) had taken their place.  This was not cool.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Paul replied.  Again.

I decided that I wasn’t going to get anywhere, so I shut my trap and waited quietly in the car.  After about five more minutes, the car stopped outside a building that made my blood run cold.  The police station.  Center of investigations.  Interrogations.  Accusations.  And no doubt more things that ended with ‘-ations’.  But why had they brought me here?  Could it be that…?  No, it can’t be.  It’s not.  There must be some other explanation.

Fred reached into the car and dragged me out forcefully.  I bit back the cry of pain that threatened to escape from my lips.  They would not see any weakness.

“Hey!  Be careful with her!” Paul snapped at Fred, who simply rolled his eyes and continued to drag me along.  He barged through the door, handed me to Paul, and then went to go talk with the dude at the desk.

“Paul, let me go,” I asked pleadingly.

Paul frowned.  “It’s Officer Paul to you,” he said, sounding confused that I didn’t use that title initially.  “And, sorry, but I can’t.  You’re needed here.”

I frowned but said nothing.  Silence, Ceres always said, spoke louder than words.  I hoped she was right, because words were getting me nowhere.

“Come on,” Fred told me, coming back to us, “let’s get you to The Room.  Your folks are already waiting there.”

“The…The Room!?” I shrieked.  Terror seized me when Fred grabbed my arm again.  No.  The Room is where they interrogate prisoners and suspects.  I was neither.  I think.

“Yes, The Room,” Fred snarled.  I kicked, screamed, and struggled, but to no avail.  I’m not that strong in the first place, and Fred was a grown, armed man who clearly didn’t like me.  He dragged me along like I was a sack of marshmallows.

“What’s going on!?” I wailed.

“You’re needed here,” Paul said again.  Then he opened a door and Fred tossed me inside.  The last thing I heard was the click of a lock.

I was needed here, he had said.

But why?

I think I knew the answer, but was too scared to admit it.

Hunger Games Fanfiction - Part Three

Chapters four through six. Woot woot.

Mhmm, I love these chapters. Oh yes.  All of them are from Laika's perspective, except chapter six. I'll be doing some more perspective changing throughout the story, but it'll be mostly Laika.

Chapter Four

The rest of the day was uneventful.  The only memorable thing that happened was at dinner, when Nico ‘accidently’ squirted some sort of sauce in my face.  The whole thing turned into a full scale food war, which ended with Farina fainting after some sushi got in her hair.

They sent us to our rooms after that.  It wasn’t too hard to fall asleep that night.  I was so emotionally strung out that I just sort of collapsed.  Freaking emotions.  Hate them.

I woke up late the next day, and when I stumbled into the dining cart in my full-out messy-haired, crumpled bed clothes glory, Nico openly laughed in my face.

“Look at this!” he guffawed.  “I can’t believe she’s from my District!”

“Shut up, Raine,” I grumbled, snagging some food and collapsing in a chair.

“You missed the replays of the reapings.  Now you won’t be able to scope out the competition,” he taunted.

“Yeah,” I said, “because I totally won’t see them in the week of training we have before the Games and I totally won’t hear them in the interviews.  Idiot.”

Nico fell silent.  I finished my breakfast and was about to go get dressed when it was announced that we were nearing the Capitol.  I ran to the window and peered out of it.  The lights of the Capitol blazed brilliantly against the morning sky.  To many, it might look beautiful.  But not to me.

Because those shining lights marked the place of my doom.

Chapter Five

“Someone shoot me,” I mumbled as my prep team circled me, looking for any missed hair or blemishes.  They were supposed to get me ready for my stylist, who would be designing my outfits for the chariot ride (which was tonight) and the interviews before the Games.  There were two men named Ari and Arai, and the woman was Ara.  They were all weirdly altered.  I really don’t want to go into it.

“Well!” Ara declared in her weird Capitol accent.  “I think you’re finally done!  You look civil!”

I glowered at her statement.  I had shaved my legs before the reaping.  And I’ve never had any blemishes.  Not since…never mind, we’ll get to that later.  Anyway, I couldn’t understand why they were making such a big deal.  I mean, I’m from a Career District.  Careers are always presentable from the start.

Maybe it was because I didn’t plan on being a Career.

“Okay, okay, leave the poor girl alone,” came the voice of a woman.  I turned just as she entered the room.  She wasn’t horribly altered, or altered at all, in fact.  She didn’t have a thick accent.  She had long, curly brown hair and shimmering honey colored eyes.  She looked pretty fun loving and easy going.  In other words, she was cool by my standards.

“I’ll take it from here,” the woman said, and my prep team hurried out.  She turned to me and smiled.  “I’m Artemis, your stylist.”

“Hi,” I said.

She smiled, then had me put on my robe (yes, I had only been in my underwear for the prep team.  I don’t want to go into that, either) and led me to a couch.

“You’re very pretty,” Artemis said after we sat down.  “And I mean that.  You’re what, five foot six?”

I nodded.

“A good height.  Slender too,” she complimented me.  “I feel bad for my partner.  You’re District partner is a monster in height.  And all that muscle.  It’s hard to make something that will fit him well.”

“Nico’s a monster in more than one way,” I told her, and she laughed.

“Yes, well, I can imagine.  You’re eyes are nice too.  You’re definitely going to be a favorite with the Capitol.  Now, let’s get on with your outfit.”

I looked at her warily.  “Is it a dress?”

Artemis laughed again.  “Yes, I’m afraid so.  But I think you’ll like it.”

Chapter Six
Unknown Perspective

I looked through the window of the Capitol building.  The Capitol was so secure with themselves, so sure that nobody could break in, but all I had to do was put on a sneak suit.  Cameras couldn’t catch me.  Neither could people.  I was invisible.

Laika was inside, looking relieved as the three surgically altered freaks left.  Seriously, not even the Pretty’s craziest party surge looked that weird.  I couldn’t help but pity the poor girl.  None of us could wait to get her out of there, but that needed to happen at the end of the Games, after she read her mother’s note.  For now, the new Mockingjay would have to wait.

We weren’t worried, of course.  I mean, some of the members of the Resistance from Panem were, but the rest of us?  Nah.  Laika was like us, surgically altered, but not in the horrible way of the people of the Capitol.  She didn’t look as scary as most of us, but that was because we had to keep her looking relatively normal.  But that didn’t change anything else.  She's still stronger, faster, and more cunning than any other tribute.  Any other person in all of Panem, in fact.

That makes her sound like a vampire, doesn’t it?  From those old books called…oh, what was it?...Twilight, I think?  Well, she’s not.  She’s just Special.


Okay, yes, I just totally added the Uglies books to this fanfiction. You don't have to have read those to understand this, though, because I'll explain it soon enough in the story. I'm sorry to anyone who is disappointed by this change, but I seriously believe that this will make the story better. I already have the entire plot planned out in my mind. The reason for this change is that my friend (she's not on the blogs, but she has a chosen name. I can't remember the last name right now, but her first name is Echo) who inspired me to write this story and I both absolutely love the Uglies and Hunger Games series. They take place around the same time and have some of the same technologies too. She wrote an amazing HG fanfiction and is writing a sequel. We were at a frozen yogurt place and decided to both add Uglies into our fanfiction. And then we ate frozen yogurt happily ever after. The End.

Anyway. Just thought I'd explain a little as to why I did this. Hopefully, you lot will still like the story. And I recommend the Uglies books highly I was GOING to explain being an Ugly, Pretty, and Special, but this thing is already incredibly long, so here's a Wikipedia link:

(They don't have Specials really explained on there. I'll do that sometime either in the next part, or in the notes of the next part).

(I also realize that the Unknown person may have made Laika seem a bit like a Mary-Sue with all it's 'praise.' Heh. Sorry about that as well. But that's really what a Special is, and we've seen Laika's faults already, I think. Cold, near-emotionless, violent, sarcastic, introvert....yep. Laika ≠ Mary-Sue. I shut up now But one last thing. My house smells like bacon).

Friday, June 17, 2011

Ubiquitous - Book, Prologue.


“Witch!  Witch!”

The chant echoed around the courtroom, where the at least a third of the town was congregated.  The woman being accused stood proudly on the stage.  She never wept, never showed any weakness, even as people screamed for her death.  I found her courage admirable.  I would be crying hysterically if I was her, but she handled the situation with bravery and a calm, even bored air.  She didn’t react to the disturbing scene around her.  It was horribly sickening.  This was not Salem, Massachusetts in seventeenth century America.  This was not a world where we accused people of being witches.

So why?

“Miss Hannet Grace, you are hereby accused of practicing the dark arts of witchcraft,” the judge spoke loudly.  “Do you deny these claims?”

Hannet glared at the judge.  “Yes, I do.  I have never practiced witchcraft in my entire life.”

At that statement, the accusers, three girls about a couple years younger than me, fell into a fit.

I stared in shock at them.  This wasn’t real.  No, it couldn’t be.  Was this seriously happening?  The girls were screaming and wailing that Hannet was hurting them.  One of the girl’s neck and limbs were being twisted in horrible, painful angles.  Another was showing off bite marks and brandishing pins that had “come and stabbed her”.  The third had collapsed on the floor and was twitching violently.

Liars,” I breathed.  No one heard me.

“Who is it that hurts you?” the judge asked the girl waving the pins.

“Hannet Grace, sir,” she replied.  “Her specter, the demonic ghost.  It’s up in the rafters, now, suckling its familiars.”

“They’re lying,” Hannet dismissed.  “I own no pets, and I shall say it again, I have never had anything to do with witchcraft.”

She’s lying,’ a voice whispered in the back of my mind.  I shook my head, not believing it, trying to get it out, out, out.

The girls fell into more violent fits.  I cringed back in horror.  More and more people now were claiming that Hannet had hurt them, that she was a witch, that she was guilty.

The judge grimaced at the scene in front of him.  “Hannet Grace, you are convicted of being a witch-


“-and you are sentenced to death by an immediate public hanging.  Step forward,” he finished firmly.

No.  No, no, no, no.  This should not be happening.  This doesn’t happen here.  Not anymore.  There are no more Salem witch trials.

But it was happening.  Hannet stood stock-still in shock, her face betraying the disgust she felt.  The guards shoved her unmercifully forward and placed a noose around her neck.  They didn’t even bother to move her coal colored hair out of the way, or to put a black hood over her head.  No, she was not to be given those luxuries.

The chants of “Witch!” started up again.  The family who had accused Hannet shouted the loudest, and I noticed that the girls had come out of their fits.  I didn’t believe any of it, but what could I say?  I was not permitted to speak in a trial, and even if I was, they would probably just throw me up there with Hannet, to be killed for protection of a witch.  Even though witches don’t exist.  Why was I the only one seeing the insanity in this?

Hannet swept the room with her eyes one last time – eyes that were cold, unforgiving, the eyes of the wrongly condemned - before closing them.  The judge gave the signal, and the latch was released.  The floor underneath the accused fell open, and there was a sickening crack as Hannet’s neck was snapped.  I turned my eyes away.  There were thunderous applause, cheers, and one person even started singing.

“Ding dong, the witch is dead, the witch is dead, the witch is dead.  Ding dong, the wicked witch is dead….”

And then it all stopped.  Dead silence filled the room for a split second before the screaming started.  Not the joyous screams of earlier, but awful, terrified shrieks, as though Death himself had suddenly appeared.  People tried to rush for the door, knocking each other down in the process.  The chaos blocked my view of the stage, so at first, I couldn’t see why people were freaking out so much.  Maybe they had finally realized the horror of what they had just done?  But someone – the same one who had been singing, I think – shouted:

She died with her eyes closed!

Everyone in the room had rushed to the walls, trying to get as far away from the stage as possible, leaving me standing stupidly in the middle.  Most of them were flooding out the doors, but a few were still frozen in fear.  And I could finally see why.

Hannet’s obsidian eyes were wide open.  And they were locked on mine.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Timeless Sergiyevskoye – A Poem

When the day is done
When the house is near quiet
She switches on her lamp
And picks up the book
That contains her family’s story
And begins to read

She plays in the halls in the manor house
Next to the brick church
She plays Padrida with her family in the summer
And runs to the shimmering Oka River
She laughs in the winter-time
To help fend off the freezing snow and cold

She cries when the church is ripped down
And flees from the burning manor house
She sits by the letter-writer
Trapped in the Gulag

She looks for the light
In Russia’s darkest hours
She follows her family’s history
Collected together by her uncle
She finds the answers
To her long unasked questions

When the clock strikes twelve
When the only sound is the soft footfalls of her cats
She switched off her lamp
And puts down the book
That contains her family’s story
And plays the story over in her mind as she sleeps


I'd like to explain this poem. I am currently reading Echoes of a Native Land - Two Centuries of a Russian Village. It was written by one of my family members, and is the story of my family's history in Russia. The village in which this takes place was called Sergiyevskoye, now Koltsovo. Yes, those are hard to pronounce, and I'm sorry that I can't explain how to. I myself do not speak Russian. I can pronounce it OK if I see the words written in English, but my mum had to help me pronounce Sergiyevskoye. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the poem.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Hunger Games Fanfiction - Part Two

Chapters Two and Three.

Oh Laika, you little psychopath, you. How I love you so~. I also love Nico and Skada's characters. Especially Skada.

Chapter Two

What’s it like being reaped?  What’s it like for thousands of eyes to be on you, you, and only you?  What’s it like to know that you are going to your almost certain death?

I can’t say.  I really, truly can’t.  I walked calmly, quietly toward the stage, like a robot.  People parted for me, staying a good distance back, as though my emotionless demeanor was contagious.  I mounted the steps and halted in front of Farina, who grasped my hand.

“Congratulations!” she told me.  I glared at her.

“Thank you,” I said flatly, squeezing her hand so hard she flinched.  Farina quickly withdrew her hand from my death grip and composed herself.

“Any volunteers?” Farina asked.  No one raised their hand, which I found strange.  People usually volunteered in this District.

“Alright now for the boy!” our district escort shrieked.  I inconspicuously took a few steps back so she wouldn’t be wailing in my ear.  After a second of rummaging, Farina withdrew the boy’s name.

“And our boy is….Nico Raine!”

Now, this may surprise you, but I’m not a social person, so I had no idea who the hell this kid was until he came up here.  Nico was at least two years older than me, and about two feet taller.  You could see his muscles through his shirt.  His blond hair was thick and flyaway.  His green eyes were hard and cold.  No one volunteered, obviously.  Nico was Career material through and through, and he was expected to win these Games.

Farina turned toward us, grinning.  “We now have out two lucky tributes!  Please shake hands!”

Nico’s hand was surprisingly soft, like he was trying on purpose not to break me.  He whispered something softly to me.

“I was hoping for some better competition,” he said.  “But oh well.  I’ll just have to count on the other Districts.  Have fun dying.”

I dug my fingernails into his hand.  “Do yourself a favor, and go to hell.  I’ll be the one to come home.”

We withdrew our hands and glared at each other the whole way to the District Building, where we would say our goodbyes to our families as we waited for the train to take us to the Capitol.

I didn’t expect any visitors, so I was surprised when Lyla, my twenty year old sister came into the room.  Her blue eyes were wide with distress.  She drew me into a tight embrace, her brown hair tickling my nose.

“Oh Laika…oh, my Laika,” she muttered as she held me.  Lyla drew back and stared me in the eyes.  “I’m so sorry, Laika, for everything.  I’m sorry for leaving you to fend for yourself.  I’m sorry for the actions of our other siblings, too.  You were so young, so innocent.  You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“It’s okay,” I said.  I realized it was true as I said it.  “Lyla, don’t blame yourself.  It was a hard time for us all.  I don’t blame any of you.”  I hugged her, my dear older sister.  “I promise to come home.  I’ll win the Games.  I swear it.”

“I know you will,” Lyla told me.  We let go of each other, and Lyla took something out of her pocket.  “Take this as your token.”

I picked up the bent, silver locket.  Inside was a picture of my mother, and a folded piece of parchment.

“This was Mum’s last gift to you,” I said.

She shook her head.  “It was Mum’s last gift to you, Laika.  I was only to hold it until the right time, which is now.”

The Peacekeepers came and told Lyla it was time to leave.  She kissed my forehead and left crying.  The rest of my siblings and their families came to visit, but none seemed as sincere as Lyla had.  I didn’t pay attention to any of them.  The only thing I could focus on was that Lyla was and had always been my best friend.

Eventually, the Peacekeepers ushered me out of my room and on to the overcrowded train station.  Nico and Farina were with me, surrounded by crowds of random people with cameras.  Nico blew kisses and waved at the cameras.  I flipped them and then skipped onto the train.

Chapter Three

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Farina told me severely.  “You won’t get sponsors or anything like that.  You’ll be labeled as a troublemaker, just like Katniss Everdeen.”

I ignored her.  “Where’s the food?”

Farina rolled her eyes in exasperation.  I think she realized, though, that she wouldn’t get anywhere with me, and led Nico and I to the dining cart for lunch.

Two more people were waiting for us there.  I immediately recognized them: Skada Hunt and Frost Leigh, two victors of previous Games.  Our mentors.

“You did well,” Frost told Nico, clapping him on the back.  “Perfect, in fact.  You have a great chance of winning these Games.  Second to none.”

I knew then that I didn’t like Frost any more than I like Nico.  He’d won the games six years ago when he was seventeen, and not only did he look like an older, more muscled Nico, he obviously favored him over me.  Without so much as a glance in my direction, he had chosen my rival to win the Games.  Woo hoo.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Skada spoke up.  She had won the Games three years ago when she was eighteen.  “Laika has some spirit in her.  She definitely has a big chance.”

“I like you,” I told Skada.  She smiled and laughed.  She was very pretty, with long, wavy, expertly styled strawberry blond hair and warm pale green eyes.  I stiffened slightly when she put her arm around me, but quickly relaxed.  Something told me that I could trust her.

Skada whispered in my ear as she guided me to my seat, “Do you plan on joining the Career pack?”

I shook my head ever so slightly.  “No.  They’d just slow me down.  Plus, Nico’s obviously going to join.  I’d end up killing him within the first hour if we made an alliance.”

She flashed me a grin.  “Awesome.  You’re hardcore and smart.  You’re gonna kick these games into next year.”

We all situated ourselves around the table and dug in.  The food.  Oh my God, the food.  It was amazing.  I ate as quickly as I could while still being civilized so I could eat as much I wanted.  Nico made jabs at my quick pace, but I ignored him.  It wasn’t until we got to the soup that Farina went and spoiled my good mood.

“I’m glad I got District Four,” she mused, almost to herself.  “A barbarian District like Katniss Everdeen’s would have been awful.”

Really, I’m not sure what it was.  Maybe it was my irritation at Farina for always using Katniss’ name in vain.  Maybe I’m just rebellious like that.  But at her words, I plucked my straw from my drink and used it to drink the rest of my soup, making a point to slurp it.

Skada burst out laughing.  Nico and Frost gave me disapproving glares.   Farina looked at me with disgust and horror.  Yeah, I was gonna own these Games.

Hunger Games Fanfiction - Part One

Prologue and Chapter One of my Hunger Games fanfiction. I'm currently working on Chapter Three. Enjoy.


Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself.” – Hermione Granger

I have no idea who this Hermione Granger is, but from this quote I can see that she was a pretty smart person.

My name is Laika Antoinette.  I’m 14 years old and lived in District Four of the nation of Panem.  The rebellion of Katniss Everdeen, 10 years ago, failed.  The Mockingjay was killed.  The Games are back and more brutal than ever.  And I, apparently, am out to stop them.

Ladies and gentlemen, may the 85th annual Hunger Games begin.

Chapter One

I rolled quietly out of bed.  Immediately, I knew something was off.  There was no sound of motor boats on the waves.  No shouting of sailors, no hustle and bustle of city life.  And I knew why, too.

Today, the children of our District, of every district in Panem, were being reaped.  Today, it was decided who went to the Hunger Games.

A shudder passed through me as I walked out of my house, still clad in my pajamas.  No one was about, so it didn’t really matter either way.  I lived alone.  Both of my parents had died long ago, and all my six siblings were older than me, the youngest being twenty.  All were too busy with their own families to care for a little fourteen year old.  Which was fine by me.  It prevented me from getting attached to them.  I hated emotions.

My small house was right on a cliff by the sea.  It was dangerous because there was no fence around the cliff, but I liked it that way.  It made it easier to climb down to the sea in the morning to bathe.  I descended the cliff easily.  When I got to the bottom, I dropped my pajamas on a flat rock and slipped into the waves, where I had time to think.

Would I be reaped today?  Probably.  I took tesserae for myself and all my siblings, meaning I was in that dreaded glass ball 24 times, while all the other girls in my District were there only as many times as their age required.  I’d always expected myself to be reaped.  Why worry about it?

Duh, I should worry.  I could be killed.  But for some reason that didn’t really bother me.  Huh.

The Career pack might want me if I was reaped.  District Four was a Career District, after all.  But Careers were tributes who trained for the Games.  I’ve never trained.  I have my lean muscles, my fighting and hunting skills, my street smarts, and a hyperactive but hostile personality.  Not exactly Career material.

Sighing, I pulled myself out of the sea and threw my pajamas back on before clambering back up the cliff.  I gently pushed my door open and slipped inside.  After drying myself off, I pulled out my only dress.  Ugh.  I hated dresses, but it was mandatory.  It wasn’t too bad, though.  Black with a slightly poofed out skirt that ended at the knees, a white corset, and a white ribbon around the neck.  I pulled the frilly thing on, then slipped into my white boots.  The entire outfit had cost me two large pike fish and a deer.  Freaking high prices.

I checked my reflection in the mirror that was propped up against my wall.  I looked okay, I guess.  My black hair was down, as usual.  It fell just to the top of my breasts, so any style I could do would look pretty bad.  I brushed my heavy, uneven bangs out of my eyes.  Those were my crowing feature, for sure.  I didn’t look anything like anyone else in my District anyway, but my eyes always made people do double takes.  A gorgeous deep purple, like the color of wild violets, with a dusty, pastel pink creeping toward my pupils from the outside of my eyes, fading like a sunset.  They were mysterious, almost haunting set on my pale face.  I liked them.

Giving myself an approving nod, I headed out the door and joined the crowd of people now flocking toward the District square.  I wove carefully in and out of families, working my way towards the sections for fourteen year old girls, where there were a mix of sobbing weaklings and proud, muscular girls praying to be reaped so they could go kill everyone at the Games.

Did I mention I hate emotions?

Even so, as I watched the crowds of people, I felt a sudden surge of anger.  I wasn’t even sure what it was directed towards.  The Capitol?  Yes.  Our evil president?  Indeed.  Katniss Everdeen?

Whoa.  I shook my head fervently.  Where had that one come from?  But as I thought about it, I realized it was true.  I was angry with Katniss, even though she was dead.  If her rebellion hadn’t failed, no one would still be going through this hell.  These evil Games wouldn’t be around.  But as quickly as the anger came, it dissipated, leaving me confused.  I didn’t have much time to wallow in my confusion, though, because just then, Faria Shine, our district escort, came on the microphone.

“Hello ladies and gentlemen!” she trilled in her ridiculous Capitol accent.  “Welcome to the reaping of the 85th Hunger Games!  And may the odds…” she paused to wink at us, “ever be in your favor!”

Many people cheered.  Here, for most, it was an honor to be reaped.  I remained quiet, fixing my intense gaze upon Faria.  She, like most Capitol residents, had been horrible altered by the weird surgery they had there.  Her curly hair was a flamboyant neon pink, done up in a beehive style.  Her lips were the same color and her skin was a softly tinged blue.  I was and had always been thoroughly creeped out by her.

“Now, let’s choose our lucky girl!” she chirped.  The trained girls cheered.  The weaklings sobbed harder.  I remained silent.

Farina reached into the girl’s glass orb and chose a slip of paper.  Somehow, I knew.  Even before she read it out loud, before we heard the name of the condemned, I knew.

“Laika Antoinette!”

Friday, June 10, 2011

Soot Featherwing's Bio

Soot is the OC Mar originally made for me before I knew what Skulduggery was and had read the books. But now, after I made Thalia, I decided to bring poor Soot back to life. After a quick talk with Mar about Soot's power, we decided on a shape shifter. So here is the new Soot Featherwing.

NAME: Soot Featherwing

AGE: Around 60, looks to be around 9 or 10.

GENDER: Female

HAIR COLOR: Dark, dark gray, almost black with pastel blue and pink streaks. To the bottom of her shoulder blades with bangs.

EYE COLOR: Pale silver.

HEIGHT: 4 foot, 6 inches.

WEIGHT: 85 pounds

PERSONALITY: Stubborn, brave, and determined. Fiercely loyal to her friends. Spazzy. Has the split personality of a young child – sweet on the outside, devious and crazy on the inside.

WEARS: Black ballet shoes, dark gray tights, black shorts, a light gray tank top with thin darker stripes, a black poncho with silver embroidery, and a black pinstriped fedora.

NATIONALITY AND ACCENT: Canadian with a Canadian accent.

HISTORY: Soot’s father despised her because she reminded him of her mother, who had supposedly died long ago. She ran away from her home when she was 6. A few months later, she was found by Alida Vesta, March Pathway’s mother. Alida taught Soot how to shape shift over the course of four years, but during an attack by vampires, she disappeared.  Soot traveled alone for a while afterwards, and eventually bought a house in Ireland. She met Thalia, March, and Mirtil when they were running from vampires after one of Thalia bombs ‘accidently’ went off. She became good friends with them, but has a weird, friendly rivalry with March.

FAMILY: ‘Dead’ mother and evil, possibly dead father.

POWERS: Shape shifter. Favorite things to turn into are a tortoiseshell cat and a black nightingale.

FAVORITE WEAPONS: Three small, obsidian knives and a handheld flamethrower.

OTHER SKILLS: Makes awesome cupcakes.

FRIENDS: Kallista Pendragon, Everisse Eterna, Thalia Circe, and Mirtil Lucifer. Has a friendly rivalry with March Pathway.

ENEMY'S: Dusk, Billy-Ray Sanguine, Springheeled Jack, Scapegrace, Justin Bieber, the bald squirrel in the corner.

HATES: Hot weather, people who annoy her, people in general.

LIKES: Autumn, rain, clouds, cemeteries, manga and anime, drawing, reading, music, dancing.

ADDRESS: A house somewhere in Dublin, Ireland.

JOB: Sometimes helps out at China’s library.



DESCRIPTION: Soot is a small, slender girl who loves the quiet and music. Her dark gray hair is thick and messy, and often gets in her eyes. Her shoes seem unpractical, but she actually had Ghastly put thin, unnoticeable soles on the bottom of them to give her more traction.

IN FIVE WORDS: The girl with the hat.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

True Story Bro counts as writing.

There was a girl
Named Thalia
Who blew something up
And then everyone died
The End

Dying Flowers - A Poem

GO AWAY OVERLY DEPRESSING WRITING PHASE, NOBODY LIKES YOU! *kicks her overly depressing writing off the interwebs*
Ehem. Sorry about that.
But I really am annoyed that I'm only able to write depressing poems.

I sit on my windowsill
To gaze at the flowers
That were once so beautiful
And now hang dead on their trees

It makes me wonder
Just wonder
If they are there on accident
Or if maybe
Just maybe
If they are there on purpose

What will become of me
When you are all gone?
Will I be like the flowers
That now hang dead on their trees?

It makes me question
Just question
Why I am here in the first place
But I think
Just think
That I am here for a reason

Friday, June 3, 2011

The Three Realms

This is based off something Mar, Mir, and I came up with at recess today. We developed it a bit, so I wrote a short story thing about it. I have no clue why it's in second person. I just had the random urge to do that.

If you climb down the north cliffs of Blogland, you will soon reach a cave.  Don’t be afraid, dear traveler.  Enter the cave.  You are much safer there than hanging on the side of a cliff.  And you are certainly protected from the strange lands on the other side.

But still, do not fear.   Go through the dark of the cave.  Keep straight.  Any turns are there to confuse and dishearten you, but do not fall for the tricks of the three masters.  You must have courage.  They admire that.

Alas!  You travel for what seems to be hours, but that is not the case, as time moves itself along slower in here.  Eventually, you see a light.  Do not be foolish.  Do not run towards the light.  Ignore the tug in your gut and the longing filling you.  Walk calmly towards the light, and step carefully onto the small ledge outside of the cave.

The harsh sunlight is blinding, but your eyes quickly adjust.  Then you gasp, for in the distance is the most beautiful thing!  A large, dimly glowing glass dome, surrounding a city.  Oh, how beautiful it is!  The buildings shine and the sky is a lovely blue.  It shimmers and flickers like a mirage, but you feel that it is most certainly real!  The buildings remain the same, but the scenery seems to be changing.  At one point as you gaze at it, mesmerized, the dome fills with water, but quickly empties, and a rainbow stretches across the sky, where the sun hangs gloriously.  You know right then that you must reach this gorgeous place.  You must.

But then something else catches your eye.  Something far less beautiful.  Something that makes your heart stop for a moment.  In terror.

Between you and your destination lies a disturbing land that stretches for miles.  To the west lies a desert.  Not the already deadly kind you’ve seen on TV and maybe in person.  Oh no, this is much more terrifying.  The sands are a dark maroon, a color that looks like blood has stained the land.  Sandstorms rage constantly, and here another sun hangs low in the sky, reddening the sky, casting a sinister glow over everything.

You turn to the east, hoping for a more friendly sight, but to no avail.  Here is the jungle, which makes a perfect half circle, the other half of the desert.  It is wild, crazy, tangled place.  The trees green leaves seem pale and dull, sickly even.  Vines and gnarled trunks can be seen from your vantage point.  As you watch, a piercing cry, somewhere between a howl and a snarl can be heard from the forest.  Your ears ring.  You glance around fervently for the dome from earlier, but you cannot find it.  Just as you verge on a panic attack, your eyes pick out the glowing haven.  But how far away it seems!  Certainly you were closer earlier?

But now the landscape has changed again.  Now the desert and jungle ring lies behind you, and you are closer to the dome.  But still something is in your way.

There is no sun in this ring of the land.  Not at all.  The sky is a dark, gloomy gray, and the land is no better.  It is worse, in fact.  The entire place seems to have been ravaged by an explosion.  The hard packed ground in charred and black.  Here and there, chunks of rock and gnarled, stooped, burnt remains of trees dot the land.  In your mind flash images of a raging fire, the bright light of an explosion, the shadows of the long forgotten.  Death reigns here.

You’re being paranoid.

You whirl around, trying to find the speaker.  Your stomach lurches as you realizes something.  The entrance to the cave is far off in the distance, and the ledge of rock you are standing on is floating in midair.  But there is no one else.  No living things about.

There is plenty of life here, but you’re just not looking hard enough.  And we promise you, no one has ever died here.  These lands are designed to make you think of death.  But seriously, do you think we’d go around killing innocent people to make a place like this?  Pfft, heck no!  We found it like this.  Well, there was a lot of exploding things and renovations done in the middle two rings, but other than that, it’s all natural!  “Death reigns here”?  Please.  Why would we kill our friends?

Now you realize that there are three voices, not one, speaking to you.  And the three voices are not what you expected.  They were in your head, and were the voices of girls.  Girls who were laughing at you.  Not only that, but you recognized the voices.

The voices belonged to your friends Mirtil Lucifer, March Pathway, and Thalia Circe.  You could almost see their grinning faces.

Just throwing this out there,’ the trio said, ‘but we like to called this place The Three Realms.  We couldn’t think of anything better.  Also….um, our, uh….let’s call them our pets, shall we?  Yeah, our pets.  They don’t listen too well.  They’ll probably hurt you.  Well, no, not probably.  They will hurt you.  But they don’t kill, and we can heal you when you get to the oasis.  Okay?  Yes?  Good.  Bye now.’

You raised an eyebrow, but somehow it didn’t surprise that this trio of lunatics had found such a weird and disturbing place.  And somehow, you also knew that even though you had been informed that no one had died here and that you wouldn’t be the first, it wouldn’t stop you from panicking and feeling very afraid once you got onto the land.  It was probably another thing the land was designed to make you do.  Feel fear.  Just to give the owners a few good laughs.

Because you seriously believed that they were watching you on a big TV screen right now.

And they were laughing.

And Thalia was yammering your thoughts to them nonstop right now.

Shaking your head, you took in the landscape once more.  Two staircases were now spiraling down from your little slab of rock.  One led to the desert, and one to the jungle.  So the girls were only making you journey through one of the two?  Maybe they did have a sense of mercy after all.

Or maybe they would send all their “pets” from the one you didn’t choose over to the other side.  Just to give you a hard time.

You kicked those thoughts out of your mind and did a quick mental recap of all you had to go through.

Mir’s jungle and forest.  Only that crazy chibi demon would be capable of ruling over such an insane land.  Either place, forest or jungle, would suck big time.  Because Mir loved laughing at tortured people’s faces.

Thalia’s…territory.  You had no idea what else to call it.  But you were certain that she had done more than her fair share of blowing things up in that stretch of barren landscape, and had undoubtedly left some paint and flash bombs behind.  Maybe even some real bombs.

And lastly, the one safe haven, Mar’s oasis.  It seemed pretty awesome there, from what you had seen.   That was definitely where the trio was lounging about right now.  In the back of your mind, you vaguely wondered if Mar had built statues of frying pans there.  Probably.

You sighed, and then squared your shoulders.  You would get to Mar’s oasis.

And then you would smack all three girls upside the head.

You took your choice of staircase and started down.  Somehow, you knew that once you got to the oasis, Mar, Mir, and Thalia would be waiting at the entrance to welcome you with tea and cookies.


I find it so amusing how my writing went from all serious to my normal weird style. I totally didn't intend to do that. Woot.  I'm not sure if I'll continue it. I think that if I do, I'll make little short stories depicting the journeys of everyone's OC's through our domains. Only if anyone wants me to, though. And then I might do a little short of Mar, Mir, and Thalia laughing at people while they struggle. Heh.