Saturday, July 23, 2011

Big News

I just found out last night that Wi-Fi was set up where we go in Canada. So I can still post! I'm not going to post regularly (not that I do anyway), but I might post a few pieces of writing or something while I'm up there.
If the small children let me go, that is.

Thursday, July 21, 2011


Okay. Lord Voldemort is after me. Dumbledore said I should lie low for three or so weeks while they figure out how to deal with the Death Eaters. So I, erm, "borrowed" Harry's invisibility cloak. They can track me through the internet, so I can't use it. See you in three weeks, everyone~
And THAT, my good friends, is how you know that I've been reading way too much Harry Potter.

But I really am leaving for three weeks.

You see, I'm going on vacation to Canada. I can't tell you exactly where, but it's somewhere in Quebec. Somewhere.

I don't exactly know where.

But we don't have internet access up there. Well, technically we have a dial-up connection, but I don't really count that as internet considering that it's slower than a snail wading through molasses.

I'm really going to miss you guys. And I just KNOW that I'm going to miss some huge important event here on Blogland. And then there's going to be posts to catch up on.......

Stupid dial-up.

Ah well, it can't be helped. I'll still be able to write, though, and that's good. That's very good.....

And I don't think it'll be as hot up there as it is here, thank God.

But I'll miss my cats.

But still. I'm really excited for this trip. I'll take pictures.

Anyway. I won't actually be leaving until the morning of this Saturday, July 23. But I'm posting this now, in case I don't have time tomorrow during the packing frenzy. And I'll be back August 13th or 14th. Somewhere around that time.

So, bye all! I'll see you lot in three weeks. I expect a report of what I missed when I return!


Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Dream Guardians Part 14

Well, this took so much longer than it needed to. But now it's done and posted, before I go on vacation, so it's all good, even if it's poorly written. Also, I thought I'd say...OC Soot Featherwing's name was inspired by one of my Shugo Chara's, who I named Soot. Who happens to have hatched from an egg with a feather on it. But that's where the similarities end, because they don't look alike...or act alike...or....yeah.

The word count on the story part of this post is 666. Should I be worried?

“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.

Erza twitched.  “YOU’RE THE ONE WHO DRAGGED ME OUT OF BED AT THIS TIME, GOSH DARNIT!”  With that, Erza sprinted back down the stairs, grabbed Holo’s ankles, and dragged her up the stairs.

Holo screamed.  “Okay! OKAY!  I can walk!  Lemme go!”

The two continued on in silence for a while.  Finally, they reached the door that would lead them to the roof.

“So…” Holo started, glanced at Erza.

Erza scowled, and pushed her friend forward.  “You first!”

“No way!”

After much grumbling and shoving, Erza and Holo ended up both squeezing through the door at the same time.  Erza tripped over Holo’s shoelace, though, and the two of them ended up sprawled on the hard concrete of the roof.

“I thought I told Shana to come alone.”  The two girls scrambled to their feet, looking around for the source of the voice.

Mei stepped out of the shadows, holding an empty can of sleeping gas, and smirked.  “Oh well.”

Erza gasped and pointed.  Holo’s eyes followed the direction of her finger.  There, lying in a crumpled heap on the roof, was Shana.  Rage began to bubble up in Holo, but it was stopped by a tug in her gut.

A very, very familiar tug in her gut.

While Mei was ranting about how she had them now, Holo sneaked a glance at Erza.  Erza caught her eye, and Holo knew that she had felt it too:

The charas were coming back.

“Oh my God…” Holo breathed.  Mei whirled around to face her.

“What did you say?” she snapped.

Erza butted in.  “Holo said ‘You are God’,” Erza chirped innocently.  Holo struggled to keep in her giggles.  It didn’t work.

Mei narrowed her eyes.  “I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you, Pikachu-Wolf-Girl,” she snarled, making a very uncalled for jab at Holo’s PJ’s.  Doru floated up next to her.  “Unlock-” Mei started to say the incantation to character transform.

She didn’t get very far, though, as Holo tackled Mei almost as soon as she started speaking.  Erza dashed across the roof, and hauled Shana nearer to Holo.

Mei managed to throw Holo off of her and stood up, glaring daggers.  Holo scrambled over to Erza and helped her support Shana.  Mei stalked toward them, and the trio backed up (well, Holo and Erza shuffled awkwardly backwards, seeing as Shana was still asleep).  Their enemy raised her fist as to hit them.  Erza and Holo managed to scramble around, so as to be able to move forward.

But that didn’t go over well, seeing as they had reached the edge of the roof.

“Oh no,” Erza had time to choke out, just as Shana’s eyes flew open, and Mei pushed them off the roof.

The three girls screamed as they plummeted to the concrete below.

Holo was thinking about her funeral when there was a small “pop”.  And then a small, chibi girl was floating in front of Holo’s face as she fell.

Her red eye nearly bugged out of her head.  “Oh my freaking God,” Holo gasped.  “SOOT!”

Soot the chara grinned.  “Hello, deary!  Long time no see!”

Mouth wide, Holo glanced over at her falling friends.  Shana’s chara Micky was floating in front of her.  In Erza’s face was Dorothy.

Holo gulped and looked at the approaching ground.  “So, Soot, how’re we gonna get out of this one?  ‘Cause I don’t feel like going splat today and-”

Holo stopped speaking and stared harder at the ground.  Small figures of people seemed to be approaching, and one of them seemed to have pink hair.  There also happened to be a big, fluffy, brown dog standing almost directly below them, barking extremely loudly.  And Soot kept glancing at the dog and people, then back at Holo, wearing a Cheshire grin.



Friday, July 15, 2011

Crown To Eye Patch

I wrote the poem part of this first then added the story, so this story is not literal. It has another meaning. I don't think I can really explain it. But I hope you enjoy this nonetheless.

“Two shining guns
Side by side
Crown to eye patch
Aimed to the very heart of the other”

The metal reflected the cold light of the setting sun.  The landscape, once beautiful, was no more.  The grass on the rolling hills was brown and dead.  The sky was clouded and smoggy with pollution.  The air had a bitter taste.

It was all so perfect for the scene taking place.

Royalty against bandit.  Tyrant against thief.  King against pirate.  Crown against eye patch.

“Broken beyond repair
The cruel tyrant king
Opens the Gates of Death
To all in his kingdom”

His once-elegant robes were tattered and torn, his magnificent crown askew.  The soul of the king was darker than even the most clouded, moonless night.  A mask of kindness is still a mask.  Fake generosity is still fake.  He was caring in the eyes of an outsider.  He was cruel in the eyes of a subject.

“Shattered under the weight of life
The notorious pirate thief
Dances with Death                   
And laughs in his own crooked way”

Around his shoulders lay the threadbare flag of his ship.  The pirate proudly wore his skull-and-crossbones flag, even in the face of death.  One of his eyes was covered by a black eye patch.  In the eyes of everyone, he was not the poor man who had been cruelly rejected by society in his youth.  He was a pirate, a thief.  Nothing else.

They aimed the guns at each other.  Both were determined to be the last one alive.

“Two gunshots
The bullets pierce the heart
And tear away all humanity”

The blood spattered on the ground.  The life drained away.

“The heart and the mind rip away
Leaving two frozen skeletons
Still aiming at each other
Crown to eye patch”

No feeling remains.  No thought.  No skin, no flesh.  All that is left are the two skeletons of the men, still standing tall.  One was great.  The other was broken.  One sporting an eye patch.  One wearing a crown. 

Both lost.

Along the side of the field of this event, to this day, runs an old railroad track.  The bars are rusted with age.  Only one train still runs on it.

“Side by side
Their souls will board the train
And be swept away by Death
Claiming his prizes at long last”

Overlooking the scene from afar, on the top of a hill, stands a young writer.  Her gray eyes are shadowed with too many emotions to name.  In a poem, on an old piece of parchment, she recorded the event for others to see.  She knows that she is no poet.  She knows she is barely a writer.  But she also knows what is important to see and to learn from, even if the understanding of humans still eludes her.

She tore the last stanza from the parchment and handed it to the tall, black-hooded figure beside her.

“Pass it on for me, okay?” she said softly.  The she turned and trudged down the other side of the hill.

Death nodded, not even needing to look to know what the scrap read.  The wind blew in a hard gust, and then he was gone.

“Follow the crooked train tracks
Marked by the crown and the eye patch
Go ahead and hop on the next train
Save a seat for me


Thursday, July 14, 2011

Pushing Up Daisies - Part One (OLD VERSION)

IT'S FINALLY DONE! I know I should be working on my part of Dream Guardians. And I am. But this came to me in a burst of inspiration, and I absolutely had to get it down. It's different from what I originally planned, but I like it this way~. Skyril, I really hope I wrote your OC well. And if I didn't, I'm very sorry.

Skyril Oblivion knocked on Thalia’s door again.  Nothing.  She frowned.  Thalia was notorious for opening her door almost immediately after you knocked.

“Thalia?” Skyril called.  No response.

Skyril tried the doorknob, and it opened with ease.  Another frown.  Thalia never left her door unlocked, no matter which safe house she was in.

“Hello?  C’mon, Thal, this isn’t funny,” Skyril said loudly as she walked into the house, knowing her friend would be able to hear her.  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.

But explosives weren’t on Skyril’s mind right then.  Even her original purpose of coming to the house – to see if Thalia had certain book that China didn’t – had been pushed to the back of her mind.  Because as Skyril searched the small house, she came to a conclusion.  A very, very bad conclusion.

Thalia was not there.  She hadn’t been there since Monday, at least.  And Monday was the day Thalia had started her new job.

Skyril turned and sprinted from the house, heading to the cemetery a few roads over.  Something was terribly wrong.


The man walked into his office, smirking in triumph. The plan had worked perfectly, and now Thalia Jane Circe was in custody.  He hadn’t been informed of the plan while giving the girl the job.  All he had been instructed to do was to give the girl a job that no one else could fill, but make it hard for her to get it, and he was grateful for it.  The girl was a mind reader, after all.  If the man had known, she would have found out.   But now she was captured, and he would be paid.

He sighed contently and looked out the window behind his desk at the graveyard.  Yes, the creepy girl who had taken is coffee was in a horrible place with horrible people, he would soon come into some money, and there had been no grave robberies that day.  All was well in the world.

That is, until, a throwing knife embedded itself in the wall next to his head.

“Where is she?”

The man turned around slowly, his eyes wide with fear.  Standing in the doorway to his office was a girl around fifteen or sixteen, her green eyes narrowed in a glare.  She held three wicked looking daggers in her hand.

He knew who she was talking about, but he wouldn’t let on.  He cleared his throat.  “Excuse me, miss, but who are you, who are you looking for, and why did you throw a knife at my head?”

The girl glared harder.  “Who I am is no concern of yours.  Now, where’s Thalia?”

“Thalia who?”

Another dagger by his head.

The man laughed shakily.  “You have bad aim.”

“I’m not aiming for you,” the girl said.  “Do you want me to be?”


“Thought not.”

The girl sighed.  She held her palm out, and before the man knew what was happening, there was a flash of light, and everything went dark.  She had taken his sight.

“Feel like sharing now?” the girl asked, sounding annoyed.

“Never!” the man shrieked.  Help would be the way by now, and it would be here soon.  There was no way they could have missed a burst of magic like that.

Sure enough, just a minute later, the man heard four pairs of running footsteps.  The girl had time to shout, “Hey, what-” before one of his guards covered her mouth.  There was a long struggle, but eventually the guards overpowered her.

“Feel like giving me my sight back now?” the man taunted.  “Miss Skyril Oblivion?”

Muffled curses followed, and the man laughed.

“My employers will be happy that we’ve captured you as well.”  The man smiled dreamily.  “Maybe they will pay me extra…”

Suddenly the window behind him broke.  The man covered his face to avoid getting glass in his sightless eyes.  Then everything started happening too fast.

His guards cried out in alarm.  There were four, loud thumps that sounded like bodies falling to the ground.  A cold metal circle was being pressed to his head.  He heard the click of a gun.  He still couldn’t see.

“Now, really, four against one?  Not fair,” a young, female voice snapped in his ear.  It didn’t sound like Skyril Oblivion.  He had never heard it before.

“Well, um…” the man stuttered.  The gun was pressed harder against his head.

“Tell us where Thalia is,” the voice commanded.

“She’ll have been taken away by now,” he spat out.

Footsteps.  A knife blade being pressed against his throat.  Skyril Oblivion’s voice sounded annoyed:  “Well, do you know where?”

“No,” he admitted.

The faceless voice sighed.  “Where was she at first?  And, while you’re at it, mind telling us why the hell you kidnapped her in the first place?”

The man considered his options.  He could deny all information, because that’s what his employers would want.  But he really didn’t feel like dying.

And so it was, that, under extreme duress, the man told them everything he knew.


WOO HOO! Who was the stranger who burst through the window? I can't tell you, 'cause I haven't made up her name yet! What's 'the man''s name? I don't have that either!

Heh. I don't really know why I thought this up. I guess I always pictured my OC getting kidnapped. She's just that annoying. I don't even know exactly why she was kidnapped. I'll figure that out in the next part, 'cause some of her point of view should be in it.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Little Owl - A Poem

Here. I wasn't planning on posting this, but Skyril and Ann said they liked it so I did. Here you go~

Young little Owl
Her heart so full
Of dreams and of love
Of light and of trust
Of the Owl’s night-song

Weary little Owl
Suddenly grows tired of the night
She longs for the sun
She longs for the warmth
She longs for the Blue Bird’s day-song

Timid little Owl
Presents her wish
To the hawks and the eagles
To the sparrows and the cardinals
To all the birds who sing the day-song

Poor little Owl
Listens to their scorn
“You are of the night
You silly little thing
You sing only the night-song”

“Stupid little Owl
With your mind so deluded
The night is your wretched place
The night is your prison
The night for you, with your stupid night-song”

Brave little Owl
Proclaims in a strong voice
“I no longer care, silly day-birds
I no longer wish to join you in the sun
I no longer want to sing a day-song”

Proud little Owl
Tells them with shining eyes
“Night is no prison, who needs the sun?
Night has the moon and the stars
Night contains the wonders of the night-song”

Sweet little Owl
The muse of the night
Sings to the moon
Sings to the stars
Sings to the forest her night-song

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Along The Path Of Stories, Poems Are Sometimes Born

Death is Life’s shadow
But do not despair
Hold your head high
Take a fresh breath of air

For my mind is my ship
And the world is my sea
I shall drift through its waves
To find the best place for me

For if my heart is my sail
Then your laugh is the wind
That has carried me gently
To all the great places I’ve been

So on we adventure
Search and wander
And through it all, we always
Can’t help but ponder

Why people give up
When they say they have nothing to lose
Because then they have everything to win
It’s an easy path to choose

Because hope is the oars
That push through the sea
On the days without wind
Which sometimes come to be

But through the storms of sadness
And the rough seas of doubt
We always remember
The sun is sure to come about

At the front of the ship
We stand with our heads high
And reminisce about the simple old sayings
Of “hello” and “goodbye”

So smile, my friend
Let the wind blow through your hair
Keep your dreams strong
Take a fresh breath of air