Thursday, August 30, 2007
First, let me explain what she's talking about when she mentions "Kinetic energy," just for clarification. My mum will work as a perfect example. Beware of all things electrical when she's around. No, she doesn't cause TV's to blow up or toaster's to go flying across a room. That's not what happens at all.
One of my favorite stories is when she walked into Best Buy. Yes, you read that right. She went into Best Buy. The store that contains almost every electrical appliance you could think of. Exhausted and in pain from a long day of shopping, she walked through the front doors. A row of 8 TV screens not twenty feet away went from blaring a cleaning-product to screaming static. She stopped mid-step and after a slight pause, grinning, she turned around and walked out of the store. And, of course, the TV's came right back on, static-free. Once more she walked into the store and again the screens changed from advertisements to static. By the fourth time she entered the store, several employees stood in front of the TV's. Some were scratching their heads. Others were standing with their hands on their hips. Two were arguing with each other and vehemently pointing at the screens. They had no idea what was going on.
Another time, my brother, my mum, and I were all in Colorado on vacation. After a long day of driving we stopped at a hotel. Who went in to book a room? My mum, of course. Once more exhausted, she laid her hands on the front desk. A blackout immediately followed. All the lights and computers shut down. Total darkness.
But, out of all the outrageous things that happens around her, there's one that "Takes the cake," as the saying goes. During times of great stress, she'll disappear into the kitchen and smoke a cigarette. Many a time I've gone in there to see what's up because the air feels electrified. There, up on the wall, directly behind her is an Atomic clock. Look it up. I don't really know how to explain how it works, so I'll leave that up to you. But like any normal clock, it takes an hour for the minute hand to circle it once, and a minute for the second hand to do the same. Or it should. Well, not when my mum is around. Minutes will go by like seconds. Hours speed by. Sometimes it's not enough that the clock's hands spin out of control. Sometimes it spins out of control backwards, as if she's trying to turn back time. And in her subconscious, that's probably what she's striving for.
But once more, I've gone off on a tangent and provided more than enough examples. Now let me get down to Sylvia Browne's exact definition of "Kinetic energy," (just in case I haven't explained it in a way you can understand.)
"Kinetic energy," Sylvia writes, "is the unintentional, spontaneous manipulation of inanimate objects through no obvious physical means. It causes it's possessor (person of choice) to become some kind of a walking force field through no fault of their own (unintentionally.)
"Kinetic energy," she goes on to say, "is often at its strongest when the body is going through dramatic hormonal changes—during prepubescence or puberty, for example, or in pregnant or menopausal women. But it can manifest itself in young children, too..."
In my mum, it seems to come at times when the stress in her life has become concentrated inside and needs to be released. I'm not sure how she does this, perhaps my examples are explanation enough, but because I do not know for sure, it's clear that there may be other reasons for the electronics to go haywire.
Well, I have to split so I'll add more later. Hopefully I can get on tomorrow.
~Excerpts from Visits from the Afterlife: The Truth About Hauntings, Spirits, and Reunions with Lost Loved Ones by Sylvia Browne~
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Bushcronium has one neutron, 12 assistant neutrons, 75 deputy neutrons and 224 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 311. These particles are held together by dark forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called peons.
The symbol for Bushcronium is "W." Bushcronium's mass actually increases over time, as morons randomly interact with various elements in the atmosphere and become assistant deputy neutrons in a Bushcronium molecule, forming isodopes. This characteristic of moron-promotion leads some scientists to believe that Bushcronium is formed when morons reach a certain quantity in concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as "critical morass."
When catalyzed with gold or platinum, Bushcronium activates Foxnewsium, an element that radiates orders of magnitude more energy, albeit as incoherent noise. Foxnewsium has 1/2 as many peons but twice as many morons.
~A True Story~
A thermodynamics professor had written a take-home exam for his graduate students. It had one question:
"Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?
Support your answer with a proof."
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law (gas cools off when it expands and heats up when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:
First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So, we need to know the rate that souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving.
As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there are more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all people and all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially.
Now, we will look at the rate of change of the volume of Hell, because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand as souls are added. This leaves two possibilities:
#1: If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
#2: Of course, if Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So which is it?
If we accept the postulate given to me by Ms. Therese Banyan during my Freshman year that, "It will be a cold night in Hell before I sleep with you," and take into account the fact that I still have not succeeded in having sexual relations with her, then #2 cannot be true, so Hell must be exothermic.
The student got the only A.
Ashley said, "My father's a farmer and we have a lot of egg laying hens. One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket on the front seat of the car when we hit a big bump in the road and all the eggs went flying and broke and made a mess."
"What's the moral of the story?" asked the teacher.
"Don't put all your eggs in one basket!"
"Very good," said the teacher.
Next little Sarah raised her hand and said, "Our family are farmers too. But we raise chickens for the meat market. We had a dozen eggs one time, but when they hatched we only got ten live chicks, and the moral to this story is, "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched."
"That was a fine story Sarah. Michael, do you have a story to share?"
"Yes, my daddy told me this story about my Aunt Evy. Aunt Evy was a flight engineer in the Gulf War and her plane got hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory and all she had was a bottle of whiskey, a machine gun and a machete. She drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn't break and then she landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops. She killed seventy of them with the machine gun until she ran out of bullets. Then she killed twenty more with the machete until the blade broke. And then she killed the last ten with her bare hands."
"Good heavens," said the horrified teacher, "what kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that horrible story?"
"Stay the fuck away from Aunt Evy when she's been drinking."
When my sister left the house, my mom took the turkey out of the oven, removed the mixed stuffing, stuffed a Cornish hen, and inserted it into the turkey... then re-stuffed the turkey. She then placed the bird(s) back into the oven.
When it was time for dinner, my sister pulled the turkey out of the oven and proceeded to remove the stuffing. When her serving spoon hit something, she reached in and pulled out the little bird.
With a look of total shock on her face, my mother exclaimed, "Barbara, you've cooked a pregnant bird!" At the reality of this horrifying news, my sister started to cry hysterically. It took the entire family almost two hours to convince her that turkey lay eggs!
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Anyone else experience anything like this?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Seconds after I told it to go away, I heard heavy footsteps walk from almost right next to my bed out of my room and down the hall towards the stairs. The footsteps were accompanied by heavy breathing. That was just last night.
A few nights ago, it felt like someone was tugging on my sheets. I couldn't be sure 'cause I had my fan on me, so I readjusted the sheets and after a second or two, the tugging started again. I turned over to see a little boy standing next to my bed. He was a little taller than my desk and had dirty blond hair that was cut short, like to his earlobes. His eyes were a sky-blue and staring at me intensely. One small fist clenched my sheet. Without words he(telepathically) called me "Mama," which, needless to say—but I will—freaked me out. I quickly flicked the light on and he disappeared.
I know some of the things I experience have to be imprints. Imprints are residual energy that are left over from a moment in time. For example, two people are in the kitchen, drinking coffee and laughing. That's what you think, because you smell the aroma of coffee and hear two different voices laughing and talking to each other. You peek into your clean and very empty kitchen. The coffee pot is empty and the chairs tucked under the table. What did you hear, then?
Let me start over. Think of a moist area of soil. You walk over it and what do you leave? Footprints, right? Now, those footprints are remnants of not just the people who made them, but also of their emotions at the time those footprints were made. Positive and negative energies alike get suspended in time. Like the example I mentioned earlier, that would be a positive imprint. A negative imprint would be like walking into a room and getting a really bad feeling, an oppressive feeling. That would be the result of a violent fight between two or more people. Their negative energies and feelings became stuck in time. That's an imprint.
Other times it's painfully obvious that whatever's there, in my room or somewhere else, is a ghost. They either don't know they're dead, or they're hanging around for one reason or another. Most likely they have unfinished business and need a message to be given to a relative or friend. Other times they're haunting, or watching over someone. It all depends.
Have you ever had your phone ring and the ID is the cell phone number of your recently deceased brother or cousin? Or have you ever felt someone pat you on the back or leg, as if trying to calm you down? Something that your deceased mother would do when she knew you were having a hard time.
I've had every one of those things happen to me and I don't doubt that at least one of these things have happened to any of you. Well, that's my experiences for the past week. I wonder what will happen this week.
Monday, August 20, 2007
How about Subway? Nutritional alley! Or so they would like us to believe; I think the jury's still out on that one, Sub! I digress. But, really! You stare at the menu up on the wall and see a Oven Roasted Chicken Breast stacked with meat and veggies. So much that the ingredients are falling out of the bun. You order a 12" and choose the Italian Herb bread. While they're cutting it, you lick your lips and try to choose what kind of cheese and veggies you would like on your sub. Pepperjack looks great, gives every bite a little zing! On this massive (in length) sub they put two, two triangular pieces of cheese on it. Then they sprinkle on some lettuce, a few strips of peppers, onions, and olives. At your request, they drench the practically bare sub with oil and vinegar, then sprinkle salt and pepper over it. To top everything off, you buy three chocolate chip cookies and a large mountain dew. Ignoring your next request that they don't wrap it, they do. After you unwrap the sandwich, you stare at the pitiful result of your specifications that cost you $12.89. The bread is flat and the only thing protruding from the sandwich is the end piece of a onion. You glance up at the lit-menu on the wall, staring at it's overlapping and enormous amount of ingredients to the soggy piece of bread in front of you. Again, not what you expected. You vow that next time you're going to Quizno's and order a Baja Chicken sub or maybe a Tuscan Turkey sub with Rosemary Parmesan Bread.
This is true of everything you may encounter. You ask for a black backpack and they give you a white one. You ask for a 2004 Pontiac Grand Am and get a 1987 Toyota. You go to the Humane Society to adopt a cat and they only have dogs. Yes, they're all adorable, but, you're 79 years old and can't walk it. Too bad. Maybe you'll buy the hamster instead, only after realizing it's the cobra's next meal. Nothing is what it seems.
And watched the light fade
The fire died, leaving the air
Permeated with the stench
Of burning flesh
That would make most men retch
But not me for I work with death
Now sirens fill the air
And I grin insanely and glare
Into the darkness and change my stance
So when they come, they wont have a chance
I’ll cut their throats before they can take a step
Now, as the first one falls to the floor
Into the darkness I quickly sidestep
And get ready for the desirous gore
My eyes gleamed as I licked the blade
The others come for more
Except more is what I’ll get
And they'll lose life's bet
Ooh, here come more of them
I wait in the darkness, ready to condemn
Those good 'ol boys to the depths of hell
My blade slices through the air and its sharpness impales
Their throats and I grin in satisfaction
As blood spurts across my clothes
The others pour in, looking around in distraction
Knife raised, I dart at my foes
They look at me in surprise, but too late
I slice their necks in half
The warm spurting blood seals their fate
As they fall to the floor, I laugh and laugh and laugh
My work here is done
I think I’ll go next door
I grin insanely as I know I have just begun
Death calls and I know he wants more
So, yes, I think I’ll go next door!
Driven by my future
Who said nothing could last?
You call this an adventure?
How do you even figure
Every single thing I’ve endured?
You’re one hell of a creature
I’ll give you that, be assured
You can’t even begin to measure
All the shit I’ve been through
I deserve some closure
And to get away from you!
I need to break out of this prison
Do you want me or not?
I need to know
So if u won’t say
Then it’ll be me who goes
What you are doing to me
Is a crime of humanity
Why are you breaking my heart in two
Every time I look at you?
It’s not fair, it’s not right
That I should sleep alone tonight
I look at the caller ID
I’m not surprised that its your number I see
I pick up the phone and throw it against the wall
I don’t want to deal with you at all
I’m sick of waiting for you
That’s it, I’m through!
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Cold but I still hear
You scream my name
Yet you don’t know why
The reason I never came
And no, I can’t deny
That I never did lie
But all I ever did was try
So why can’t you get the point
And let me go my way?
All you ever did was disappoint
Me every single day
And then you turn around
And say I’m to blame
I’m the reason why
Our relationship has run aground
And still you wonder why I never came
I need to say it
You need to hear it
I can’t hold on
I couldn’t see
I can’t see
You’re not coming back
You’re never coming back
You left me and that’s a fact
You never cared and that’s a fact
Why did you do this to me?
I can’t live with this secret
Why didn’t your death set me free?
There’s nothing in this world that I don’t regret
I cant live with this
Why couldn’t I see that?
I don’t want to reminisce
What were you getting at?
I can't even remember what
You look like anymore
I wish I could change the past but
What was it even like before?
Nothing seems the same anymore
Life holds nothing more for me now
That you’re gone
’Cause you’re gone
Was I really that cold?
I can’t sleep without dreaming
Is it you I hold?
I wake up screaming:
“Why did you do this to me?
Why can’t your death set me free?
Why is it that every time I close my eyes its you I see?
What the hell am I trying to be?”
I’m nothing without you
It’s been so long since you’ve gone
I did what I had to do
It still feels so wrong
I did what I had to do
It still feels so wrong
Friday, August 17, 2007
The sky is dark
The air cloudy
The Gods are angry
Lightning splits the sky
Thunder shakes the ground
Fire spews in the distance
Ashes fall to the grass
The Sea pulls itself
Away from the shore
The Clouds part
And the Stars reach down
The rocky seabed
Shimmers in the Stars’ light
They swarm around us, around me
Lifting me… carrying me…
Away from it all
I watch the Others as they stand still
And they raise their hands in farewell
The air clears
The fire darkens
The Sea returns
They have Chosen
I am Chosen
Sunday, August 12, 2007
If you treat plants like they're living, breathing souls, just like us, you'll see a huge difference. Things have been happening lately and I haven't gone out side and talked to them for a while... the trees were drooping, and the flowers were becoming more and more scarce. So I went out there for about an hour and so and told the trees and plants that I wasn't ignoring their beauty, that I was just having hard times, and haven't been able to come out and admire them as much as I used to. I also told the nymph's and faeries (who make things grow) that I wasn't ignoring them, either. That I still appreciated the way they cared for the living things in ways that many others (us humans) don't. Two weeks later the pine trees that had been bent sideways 'cause of a heavy snowstorm we had had were standing perfectly straight. The flowers are in full bloom. Daffodils, columbines, lilies—and our new addition, roses—are shooting up everywhere. We've never planted roses, or had so many of these flowers before. Now they're everywhere in our back and front yards...
The message here people, is that you need to appreciate nature and all the little creatures that give them life. One of these days, try this—especially if your backyard is a total mess—talk to them. Tell them you appreciate them. Trust me, you'll see the difference.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Her eyelids felt like stone and it took a while for them to respond. Finally, her eyes slowly opened. Dim light broke through the treetops and the air was perceptibly cooler. Early evening.
“Ugh,” she groaned quietly and closed her eyes. The murmurs ceased. She opened her eyes to see a face quiet close to her own. Elizabeth gasped in shock, scrambled away and rose unsteadily to her feet. She stumbled backwards then regained her posture and wrapped her arms around her stomach in an instinctual protective and comforting reflex.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” the man that had frightened her said, his light baritone voice soothing. He had his light brown hair cropped short. His nose was straight, and slightly tilted upwards at the tip. The sun had tanned his skin to the color of aged honey. He was well over six feet tall, and had a wiry physique.
The men around the fire stood slowly and remained still, so as not to startle her. She could hear the musical sound of a stream nearby. A quick glance to her left revealed the animals she had heard just moments earlier as horses. She took another step back before returning her gaze to the men. Quickly, she pushed her hair out of her face, then wrapped her arm back around her stomach.
“Where’s Jonathan?” she croaked then coughed, trying to clear her throat.
“The man we found you with?” he asked.
She nodded instead of replying verbally. His face tightened angrily, and a quick glance over his shoulder showed the other men around the fire exchanging furious looks with one another. From their furious expressions and their silence, Elizabeth realized what had happened.
“Dead?” she rasped in shock. He nodded once, eyeing her face. Suddenly, her legs could no longer support themselves and she fell to her knees.
“Are you alright?” he asked, obviously concerned.
“I’m fine. Just… relieved,” she replied, still dazed. She put her hand against her cheek and slowly brushed a stray curl from her face, trying to absorb what she just learned. After a moment, she looked up and met his gaze, her eyes searching his own for the truth. “He’s really dead?”
He nodded again, watching her expression closely. She sat down slowly, then let out a shaky sigh and rubbed her face. When she pulled her hands away, she could see the marks that the rope had left on her wrists.
“How am I going to explain these,” she muttered to herself. The silence lengthened and she glanced up to see them still watching her. She studied them as they returned the gesture. Their tunics were light tan; their breeches dark brown. Camouflage colors. Some kind of symbol had been stitched into their tunics with golden thread, resting on the left side of their chest, placed directly above their hearts. Ten pairs of multicolored eyes blazed with curiosity, yet at the same time they were soft with compassion.
Her own curiosity got the better of her. “Who are you?” she asked, intrigued. “And what are you doing out here in… in the middle of… of nowhere?” she stammered, remembering the reason why Jonathan had followed her here and shuddered.
“I’m Gavin,” he replied with a warm smile. “And these men are the First Squad of the Golden Riders,” he said with a wave of his hand. The men looked at each other, amused. When they looked back at her, she nodded politely. Taken aback by this respectful gesture, they nodded in return.
“We were on patrol when we came upon you and… Jonathan,” he finished, his voice livid. His eyes were as hard as stone. She shivered involuntary. This was not a man I would want to have as an enemy, she thought.
“You must be freezing,” Gavin continued. He had obviously seen her shiver but assumed it was from the cool evening air. “Come sit by the fire.”
“Thank you, but…”
“But?” Gavin inquired with arched eyebrows.
“But I must to be going. I have to return home to my brother and sisters.”
“You’re in no condition to travel,” he remarked. “I’m sure your mother or father could…” his voice drifted away as she shook her head.
“It’s just me and them. They’re probably terrified because its late and I haven’t returned yet.”
“Where are your parents?” he asked gently. She looked away; she didn’t want them to see the tears in her eyes.
“They died; a long time ago. I’ve been taking care of them since.” Quickly, she swiped her eyes with slender fingers, hoping that they didn’t notice in the fading light.
“Where are they now? Your brother and sisters,” he asked, confused.
“At home. I left my brother in charge.” She rolled her eyes skyward and sighed. “Which may not have been a smart choice,” she voiced and shook her head in chagrin. She looked up at them in surprise when they chuckled. She felt the corners of her lips turn up into a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, well,” she muttered to herself with a shrug. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and ran her fingers through it quickly, removing the leaves and twigs tangled into the curls.
“Thank you,” she said with feeling, after she had finished getting the litter from her hair. “Thank you for… for everything.” She looked at every man there, meeting his eyes. “I need to get back to them.” She tried to stand but her legs couldn’t hold her and she fell to her knees.
“I don’t think you have a choice. You can’t even stand, let alone walk,” Gavin observed.
“It’s only two leagues. I’ll be fine,” she replied.
“Two leagues!” Gavin exclaimed. The men behind him exchanged shocked glances, then stared at her, astonished.
“I’ve walked farther than that in worse condition,” she remarked coolly, insulted.
“What do you mean ‘worse condition’?” Gavin asked, appalled.
“Nothing,” she replied and kept her eyes on her feet. She rose again; this time her legs held her weight. “See? I’m fine. Thank you, again. I don’t know where my siblings would be if you hadn’t come along when you did.” She smiled shyly, then turned and stumbled away from the warmth of the fire into the frigid night air.
~ ~ ~
“Leone,” Gavin called behind him softly.
“Yes, Gavin?” one of the men answered.
“Follow her. Make sure she gets home safely.”
“Aye,” he replied and disappeared into the fading light.
~ ~ ~
Leone followed Elizabeth, his training serving him well. He moved stealthily through the woods, his footsteps leaving no trail. He was amazed by her persistence and her determination to make it home. Two leagues, he thought and shook his head. Amazing. He had followed her for about a league before he saw her tumble to the forest floor. He thought she had passed out until he saw her crawl to a tree and lean against it. After a moment, he walked silently to her and found that she had fallen asleep.
He was tempted to carry her the rest of the way home, but he had no idea where home was. Well, my job is to make sure she gets there safely, he thought to himself and leaned against a nearby tree. As he watched her sleep, his mind wandered. He kept going back to right before they came across her and Jonathan. It occurred to him that they didn’t even know her name. He shrugged and let the memories surge through him.
He had been laughing with the men of his Squad at a joke one of them had just made when he heard an agonized scream. The laughter had ceased immediately and they looked at each other baffled. This area of the forest was uninhabited. Who could be screaming?
“It came from this way,” Gavin confirmed with a jerk of his head to the left; the men set off at a gallop through the wooded area. It was not long before they saw a tall man standing in front of a young woman. She was cowering against the tree, obviously frightened of him. He hit the young girl and snarled something that they couldn’t understand. Her head fell to the side but when he laid his hand on her throat Gavin signaled them to attack. Every one of men sighted their arrows on the man and let them fly. Their arrows flew straight and true. Each one struck the man in the back and he crumpled in a heap with a painful cry.
As they neared the young woman, they could see that her arms were taut against the tree and the rope tied around her wrists. Her feet barely touched the ground.
“Roland, cut her down,” Gavin commanded, his voice tight. Roland cut the rope binding the woman to the tree and Leone caught her as she fell to the ground.
“She’s so young!” Julian exclaimed. “She can’t be any older than 17 years.”
Leone kneeled, Elizabeth still in his arms, and laid her on gently the ground. He checked her pulse, than laid his ear against her chest. After a moment of listening to her breathe, he griped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, and examined her neck with his free hand.
“She’s alright. Her throat may be sore for a while and she’ll have a headache when she awakens but other than that, there’s nothing wrong with her,” he told the others, his eyes still on her. He looked up at Gavin. “He hit her pretty hard.”
Gavin’s eyes blazed and his lips were all but invisible. “I’m tempted to leave this man for the animals,” he growled and nudged Jonathan with his boot.
“She’s a beauty,” Roland voiced. When Gavin glared at him, Roland held out his hands in defense. “I’m just saying.”
“That’s what he was clearly thinking,” Leone added. “His intentions weren’t honorable. Look at this.” He pointed to her bodice; the laces were partly undone. “I dread to think what would’ve happened to her if we hadn’t heard her scream.” He shook his head and noticed the rope still tied around her wrists.
“Roland; the knife,” he called and extended his arm. Roland dropped the blade hilt first into Leone’s outstretched hand; he proceeded to cut the ropes away from her wrists. “Here.” He handed the knife back to Roland and removed the rope from her wrists. He tucked the discarded—and useless—rope into his saddlebags. Maybe they could use it as fuel for a fire.
“Well, we’re here for the night, at least. Let’s make camp.” Gavin started to walk away then turned back. “What are we going to do about him? What do you think?” he asked his men. “Leave him like he is or bury him?”
“I would like more than anything to leave him here for the animals but I wouldn’t want to come upon him, a while from now, let alone others who might.” Leone looked from one man to another. “Bury him.” They nodded their agreement.
It took them less than an hour to dig the grave and bury Jonathan. When they were finished, Leone went to check on Elizabeth; she was still unconscious. Her breathing was even and quiet. He laid his hand on her forehead, and then held her fingers in his hands. “We have to get her warm. Her temperature is dropping. We need to make camp and get a fire started as soon as possible.”
“There’s a small clearing back a little ways and to the left,” Julian added.
“Alright, let’s get going. Mount up!” Gavin looked down at Elizabeth. “Need help?” he asked Leone.
“No, I got her.” Leone picked her up in his arms as though she weighed nothing at all. “Actually, yes, I could use some help. Hold her for a second.” Leone handed off Elizabeth to Gavin—who also held her as though she weighed nothing at all—and leapt into his saddle. Gavin handed her back to Leone, who put his arms around her waist, leaving her sitting in a sidesaddle position; her head fell against his shoulder. Turning his mount slowly, he followed Julian and the rest of the men the distance to the meadow.
When they reached the clearing, the men quickly got to work setting up tents, unsaddling the horses, and building a fire. Leone handed Elizabeth off to Gavin and dismounted. He unsaddled his horse as Gavin laid her next to the smoking kindling. Soon the small flickering flames turned into a blazing fire. When their chores were done, they sat around the fire talking softly. Every now and then their eyes flickered to the young woman lying nearby.
~ ~ ~
She had stumbled halfway home before collapsing in exhaustion. I’ll just rest for a moment, she thought tiredly. She crawled her way to the closest tree and leaned her back against it. I just need to rest for a moment, that’s all, Elizabeth thought as she tucked her skirt around her legs tightly. She rested her hands in her lap. She could feel her eyelids drooping, so she let them close. Just for a moment, she sighed inwardly.
Elizabeth slowly awoke to the twittering of birds. Cold. Oh, it’s so cold, she thought and shivered. When she opened her eyes, she could see her breath as she exhaled. A ghostly light filtered throughout the woods.
“Oh, no!” She scrambled to her feet. It was just before dawn. “Oh, they’re probably petrified,” she cried, distressed and upset with herself. Without a moment’s delay, she started off and hurried on her way. She had gone about half of a league when she sensed that she was being followed. She whirled around and searched the seemingly deserted forest. “Who’s there?” she called into the faint light. “I know you’re out there. Show yourself!” she called louder.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” a man said, appearing out of nowhere. He was tall, just over six feet. His nose was long and straight; his high cheekbones were speckled with freckles. His hair was the color of ripe wheat and his eyes the color of granite. He moved with the ease of a man experienced in hand-to-hand combat. She recognized him as one of the men in Gavin’s squad. He showed his large hands and moved slowly. “Gavin asked me to follow you and make sure you got home safely,” he said. “My name is Leone.”
“He didn’t need to do that. I can take care of myself,” she responded, annoyed.
“It didn’t appear that way when we found you.”
She glared angrily, her eyes filling. She shook her head, turned around, and continued on her way, all the fight draining out of her.
“Wait! I’m sorry,” he apologized and appeared at her side. “That was uncalled for. I’m sorry,” he said again. He kept up with her easily.
She was too upset to answer him so she just kept walking in silence. She could feel his eyes flicker to her face now and then. She stopped walking suddenly and turned to him. “I’m almost home. You can go back now. I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re almost home,” Leone responded, “then it won’t make a difference.”
“Fine!” she replied, annoyed, and began walking again. Less than ten minutes later she walked into the clearing that surrounded a small cottage. She opened a gate that surrounded a small but sufficient garden. She stood just inside the garden’s fence and inhaled deeply, letting the floral scents calm her nerves. Walking a few paces, she kneeled and picked some Lilac. She latched the white gate and walked the small distance to the cottage. She turned when she reached the door; Leone was standing less than a foot from her.
“Thank you,” she said softly in case her brother and sisters happened to be asleep. He nodded and looked down into her eyes. If his gray eyes hadn’t been gentle and his expression kind, his close proximity would have been overwhelming.
“Be careful, won’t you?” he requested with a smile.
“I will,” she replied and smiled in response. His eyes flickered over her shoulder as she heard the door creak open.
“Elizabeth?” a tiny voice called. She sighed and turned around. “Oh!” She sharply exhaled as her brother threw himself at her, knocking the air from her lungs. “Aidan!” she groaned. “That hurt!”
“Where were you?!” he accused, his voice condemning. “Susanna, Christine, and Jane were impossible,” he voiced dramatically.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed and rolled her eyes. “You took care of your sisters like I asked you to, right?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Go inside. I’ll be just a minute,” she said and pushed him inside. “Thank you…” she said as she turned only to find that he was gone. She scanned the surrounding empty forest with her eyes briefly before she sighed and closed the door behind her.
A strikingly beautiful young woman stood next to the small pond, looking over its glassy surface. Her curly cherry red hair was pinned up in an intricate braid. Green eyes that possessed gold flecks were vivacious and inquisitive and framed by long lashes. Her full crimson lips—the lower slightly fuller than the upper—accented her pale skin. High cheekbones, a pert nose, and a stubborn chin gave her the appearance of someone with an entirely fiery disposition.
When she was younger, she used to come here often, but to her great disappointment, it has become a rare occurrence. The leaves have just started to turn light yellow and bright orange. A few breathtakingly beautiful scarlet and maroon leaves could be seen throughout the treetops. It is still too early in the season for many of those. She walked slowly around the pond’s edge, letting her fingers brush lightly against the smooth bark of the oak trees. She paused and slid off her leather slippers; though worn, they were still in excellent shape, not to mention extremely comfortable.
Raising her delicate hands to her hair, she gently slid out the pins with slender fingers, allowing her thick hair to swing freely. She leaned down and dropped the pins into her slippers so as not to lose them—which she frequently did—then drew her unruly hair over her left shoulder and ran her fingers gently through the vibrant curls. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, deeply inhaling the wildflowers’ enticing fragrance, before continuing on her way. The dry leaves scattered along the forest floor tickled her bare feet as she walked.
Before she knew it, she had walked the entire length of the pond and her slippers lay a few feet in front of her. She sighed and emptied her hairpins into her hand, then slid them into her pocket. She had just finished slipping her feet into her leather shoes when a deep voice spoke from behind her and to her left.
She gasped and whirled around, her skirt billowing outwards. A tall, dark haired man leaned against a tree about ten feet away. His close-cut hair was such a dark brown shade that it was often mistaken as black. His nose had been broken at least twice and a scar divided his left eyebrow; his freckles were almost unnoticeable under his dark tan. His chin was more square than round and jutted out slightly. His unreadable eyes were the color of the sky. His full lips were pulled up into a smirk and his arms were folded tightly across his chest. The dark green cloth of his tunic bulged over his muscular torso.
“Jonathan? You frightened me! What are you doing here?” She hadn’t even heard him approach, which unnerved her. The fact that his eyes were scrutinizing every inch of her face unnerved her even more.
“Looking for you,” he murmured. She felt a chill run down her spine as his cold blue eyes slowly moved down her body, and back up to her face. His intense stare made her skin crawl. “Your beauty is exceptional today. Tell me, why do you always keep such exquisite hair pinned up?”
“It is easier to go about my day, Jonathan,” she replied then curtsied deeply. She was eager to leave. Something was not right. She could feel it. “I must be going.”
“But it’s still early. Surely you can stay a while,” he remarked with a slight tilt of his head. His eyes seem to bore right through her, making her even more eager to depart.
“I am sorry, but I really must be on my way.” She smiled nervously and walked past him. She had not gone five feet when a rough hand grabbed her arm and jerked her backwards.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Jonathan’s deep voice declared.
“Jonathan! That hurt!” she gasped painfully. “Let me go. It’s getting late.”
“No,” Jonathan replied with a smirk.
“Let me go!” she demanded and glared at him.
“I said no, Elizabeth,” he replied quietly. “We’re going to have some fun first.” The look he gave her was anything but humorous.
“Let me go,” she yelled furiously. Fear was slowly spreading its way through her body, tightening her chest. Coldness trickled through her veins.
“No,” he said again. Something in his eyes flickered darkly. His grip on her forearm tightened painfully.
“Jonathan… what are you doing?” Elizabeth whispered, and tried to pull away. He grabbed her other arm and pushed her backwards. Only his hard grip kept her from falling to the forest floor. He slammed her roughly against something hard. He towered over her five feet, eight inches.
“Ow!” she cried out in pain. “Jonathan, please let me go!” she begged as he pinned her to the tree.
He pulled a thick handful of her hair over her shoulder and ran his fingers through it. He was amazed at how silky her hair was. And those curls. How could hair be that curly? he wondered. He stared down at her frightened expression; her green eyes were wide and her crimson lips were trembling. He leaned down, his breathe hot against her neck.
“No,” he whispered into her ear, “not yet.” She tried pushing him away but his grip tightened like a vice. He stared into her eyes and saw only resistance. “I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to resort to this,” he sighed.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice shaking, when his hand disappeared behind his back. A sob escaped her lips when his hand reappeared, and she saw his fingers wrapped around a short, thin rope. The silence and seclusion, once comforting and soothing, became terrifying.
“No!” she cried out as he wrapped one end tightly around her wrist. He jerked her arm over her head and flung the cord around the tree, hooking it over a high branch. He agilely snatched the end of the rope from the air before it could hit her in the face, and tugged on it forcefully causing her to cry out in pain as her arm was yanked farther upwards. He laughed heartlessly, and pulled harder, causing her feet to leave the ground.
Elizabeth screamed in agony. Deftly, he tied the rope around her other wrist; so tight that she lost all feeling in her fingers before he had even let go. Then, as a ruthless smile touched his lips, he reached up and pulled on the rope, righting her as he would right a tilted picture.
“You’re hurting me!” she wailed. Jonathan smiled as though he was enjoying some private joke and laughed cruelly. A single tear escaped to slide its way down her cheek.
“Why?” she sobbed, searching his icy blue eyes for any emotion at all.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,” he murmured into her ear and laid his hands on her hips. She turned her face away when he reached out and brushed hair from her cheek. “Why do you think I followed you all the way out here?” he asked with a menacing smile.
“Please, Jonathan,” she begged as his fingers pulled at the knots of her bodice, untying the laces. “Just let me go.”
His body was pressed against hers, making her sick to her stomach. He leaned forward and placed his lips under her ear. She turned her face away and closed her eyes tightly when he pressed a kiss to her neck. Her stomach rolled. She bit her lip, welcoming the pain, anything to distract her from what he was doing. He pulled back slightly, gripped her chin, and forced her to look at him.
“Why would I do that?” he asked, his breathless voice unbelievably shocked. His long fingers continued to unstring the laces.
She stared at his detached expression. This can’t be happening, she thought. Her ears buzzed and everything around her became blurry. The touch of his cold hands against her collarbone cleared the fog clouding her mind.
“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, and lashed out with both legs. He stumbled backward, gasping in pain. He bent over, hands on his knees for a split second, then stood up so swiftly that his movements were a blur. The fury in his eyes had Elizabeth cringing against the tree that held her prisoner. His once detached expression became murderous. Something inside him had snapped and she could see that he was losing control.
“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth whispered and pressed herself harder against the tree as he slowly approached. He paused a few feet away, drew back his arm and backhanded her so hard she couldn’t breathe. Cold fingers enclosed around her throat.
“Don’t… you… ever… do… that… again!” he snarled.
“Can’t… breathe…” she rasped when his grip tightened.
She heard the oddest thing as her vision darkened: the sound of galloping horses and almost indiscernible soft twangs. Numerous faint thuds followed along with a piercing, inhuman scream. The pressure on her throat vanished.
“Roland, cut her down,” a lilting voice commanded. A subtle sawing noise reached her ears and then her arms seemed to float away from their imprisonment. She could feel her body falling but was unable to stop it. Her muscles wouldn’t respond and the fog was clouding her mind once more. She knew she was slipping into darkness but she couldn’t make herself care.
“I got her,” a deep voice said. Elizabeth fell weightless through the thickening mist as darkness consumed her.
From what I could tell, I was one of the few out of 120 students in my Junior and Senior class that didn't drink or smoke. Peer pressure is everywhere. But why do people feel they have to fit in? Isn't it worth standing out just to be yourself? To be true to yourself? I stood out my whole life. Half the time I wished that I fit in, and the other half grateful that I never did. To be so would've meant that I drank or smoked or bullied other kids. Why can't we be happy with who we are instead of what others think we should be? There's so much sadness, so much repression. I don't understand the need to be like everyone else. If we were meant to be the same, why were we born so different? Skin color, personalities, beliefs, ethnicities. Diversity is everywhere. We're all different, in every possible way.
So why do we feel the need to be identical to everyone else? I'm not just talking about fads or fashions or physical appearances, but on the inside as well. I wish I knew the answer to that, just so I could tell the world to stop and take a look around. Stop conforming to what's cool, or proper, or what other people tell you to do and start being true to yourself. Become what you were meant to be. Be free...
Friday, August 10, 2007
George never had many friends. In fact, he had none at all. Yet, life for him was never tedious, never ordinary. It took him a long time to figure out that he wasn’t like everyone else, that he was different. By the age of twelve, George became withdrawn from the outside world. He stopped participating in class, though his grades continued being superior. At age fourteen he stopped talking, even to his mother. It was on his fifteenth birthday, that he found the book.
The book was odd, unlike anything he had ever seen before. It was old; its black leather cover cracked and creased, the pages withered and yellow with age. As he flipped through the significantly small book and eyed the foreign symbols, he could feel something inside of him change. It was an odd sensation, a feeling of being unraveled. No, not that, exactly. More like a feeling of floating, of finally being free from years of a prison-like world. It was then he noticed that there was something different about him. Not normal. Unique.
As he closed the book, the gold insignia on the cover flashed and glowed until the surrounding night turned to light. The world started to spin, faster and faster. It was like standing in the center of an out-of-control carousel. The world turned into a multicolored blur. Dizziness came in waves. George squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead, trying to clear his vision and his mind. When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer standing on a grassy knoll in the park and under the still, starry midnight sky. Instead, he was standing on a cracked desert plain. A light early morning wind blew strands of his hair into his face. To his left, he could see just a sprinkle of stars, a fading night, and huge round shadows, possibly dunes. To his right, a sun was just starting to show on the horizon. There was something mystical about the silent landscape.
George studied the book more closely, turning it this way and that. He was looking for answers without ever knowing any of the questions, except one: What exactly am I holding? He opened the tattered book again. Flipping through carelessly, he stopped on one page and concentrated on the strange symbols. The breeze became stronger. The shadows in the distance started to move. Whispers, disembodied voices, surrounded him, coming from every direction. The letters started to glow and flicker like flames. George gripped the book tighter and searched the land around him with wide eyes.
“George,” a faint voice called to him from the darkness, “George, come. What are you waiting for?”
A tall figure walked towards him, out of the darkness.
“George, are you coming? We must leave soon, before they arrive.”
“Before who arrives? Who are you? Where am I? Better yet, who am I?” George demanded.
The sun rose higher, making her body glow in the shadows. She was the tallest and most beautiful person he’d ever seen. She was wearing a flowing blue gown that matched her gleaming eyes. The odd thing about her though was that her hair was also blue.
“My name is Eveangel. And you…”
“I… what? What?”
“You will find out in your own time.”
The sounds of battle filled the air, and screams echoed through the land. Eveangel gasped in apprehension. “George, come!” she screamed, “Now!” She snatched the book from his grasp, took one of his hands and started running towards the massive dunes.
“Where are we going?” George hollered into the wind.
“Where we will be safe,” Eveangel shouted over her shoulder.
Over and beyond the dunes they fled. With the strong breeze, their telling trail was swept swiftly away. George bent over, hands on his knees, and gasped for air. Looking up at Eveangel, he noticed that she wasn’t out of breath at all. Standing up straight, he grimaced and rubbed the stitch in his side. She was standing straight, staring intently in the direction from which they had just come.
“How do you do that?” he asked, astonished.
“Do what?” she inquired, not taking her eyes off the horizon.
“Run like the wind and not be out of breath.”
She gazed at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
“I mean running for a prolonged amount of time without becoming tired,” he explained.
“We don’t get tired.”
“Who doesn’t get tired?”
“My kind.” Eveangel cocked her head in puzzlement.
“You never get tired or… or exhausted? Do you even sleep!?” George exclaimed.
“I didn’t say that. We do sleep. But we do not get tired. Exhaustion is a state of mind. If your mind does not believe, your body does not.”
“But how—,” George began.
“Quiet!” she whispered and raised her slender hand for good measure. She had abruptly turned her eyes back to the horizon. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“What do you mean leave? I just arrived and…”
“And?” she prodded.
“And I don’t want to go back home. I never belonged there.”
“You’re right. You belong here. It’s only for a short time. Your destiny lies here, on Alluriona, my planet.” She looked back at him. The time will come when you’re needed, and the book will let you know. Keep it safe and hidden. It’s very important.
“All right,” George replied. He didn’t realize that she had spoken to him telepathically. “So, how exactly do I get home?”
“Well, how did you get here?” she responded with a smile.
“I just found that book you’re holding, and the design on the front started glowing. The next thing I knew I was standing where you found me.” George replied.
“You must’ve been thinking of another place, another time where you could be free of all of your past overwhelming responsibilities. All you have to do is think of home.”
“That doesn’t help me in getting back though. I’d just be thinking of all the bad things that have happened to me there. Please don’t make me go back,” he pleaded.
“But you must! You must go or all we’ve worked for will be for nothing. Please!” Eveangel begged. “I promise you that you will return here and much sooner than you think. Here, take this book. It’s important that you have it. Finding this book is what brought you here. It’s what will get you home.”
“All right,” George agreed reluctantly. He took the book back from Eveangel, closed his eyes and thought of home. Knowing that he would soon be coming back helped him to leave.
As he faded away, Eveangel murmured, “Goodbye… Areon. Your destiny awaits you, as do we all.”
As Areon fled through space and time, Eveangel’s last words were left unheard. In an instant he was standing yet again on that grassy knoll and under a warm starry night sky. Sighing in disappointment, Areon headed out of the park towards what he used to call home and disappeared into the mist.
~Soon to be written... Book Two: The War to Come~
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Tonight, I turn around in my computer chair to find him sitting not even a foot away, looking up at me. At his feet was--you guessed it--a bat. It's wings were totally spread, and it lay perfectly flat on the floor. I shrieked, waking my nearly asleep mum, who in turn voiced a shriek--along with a muttered curse--of her own. I laid a cloth over it so if it really was alive, it wouldn't fly away. While my mum looked for something to pick it up with and bring it outside, I pulled the edge of the cloth up to make sure it was still there. I couldn't see it, so I lifted up a different corner and still didn't see it.
I called and called my mum, who didn't believe me when I told her it was gone! She picked up the cloth, and there, curled up into a little ball, was the bat. She ran--or hobbled, rather--to once more get something to take it outside with, while I was left to the duty of holding down the edges of the cloth so it couldn't escape, which, of course, was exactly what it was trying to do.
Finally, after many squeals, and quite a few minutes--or so it seemed--my mum came out with a plastic bag and we brought it outside and set it on the edge of the porch. I checked 15 minutes later to find it gone, probably looking for a bug or two to munch on.
Meanwhile, Rascle, is laying on his side, a shit-eatin' grin on his face, panting happily. The look on his furry little face said, "My work here is done." And it was.
That's my adventure, and his too, for tonight.