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:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OeOqYR1fXPg , 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.
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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, well....it 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.
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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)
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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

Zigzagging
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.
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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!
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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?”

“Nooooope!”

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).