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Friday, November 20th, 2015
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12:23 am - NanoWriMo 2015
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Even knowing my proclivity towards procrastination I decided (on October 30th pretty much) that I would participate in NanoWriMo this year. I have only tried once before (either the first or second year that NanoWriMo existed--I suspect the second year.) and I failed miserably.
I am still well into failing miserably territory. I am HOPEFUL, but yeah. It's looking pretty dire. I'm behind by a WHOLE LOT.
Still, it's fun and if I can just HAVE A PRODUCTIVE DAY I miiiiiiiiiiiiight be able to swing it.
Especially since I'm basically word-vomiting rather than attempting to keep to any sort of linear order. Yeah, that's right, I'm just throwing words at the page and seeing how they stick. It's fun in some regards but I'm having all of the same issues as usual-- PROCRASTINAAAAAATION!
Quick excerpt, because I'm silly like that:
* * *
Rhett watched as Liam curled up on a worn quilt and pushed his hair off his face. Being a ghost was probably the most voyeuristic experience she'd ever had. It was lonely as hell too. No one could see her, no one could talk to her. She watched everyone she'd ever known or loved and they had no idea. It was worse than the fall from the cliff had been. Worse than that last moment when she'd choked on her own blood and air that felt thin and stabbing. Worse than being pulled into that unending gray.
For whatever nonsensical otherworldly reason there was, Rhett could touch Liam. Granted he didn't feel her, but she could touch him. And even though she'd done her best to channel her inner Patrick Swayze on the off-chance that she could learn about being a ghost through pop-culture, she hadn't been able to pinpoint a single emotion that would allow her to interact with anything. Anger, fear, she even gave jealousy a shot while watching her best friends making blissfully normal plans for the weekend. Whatever all of those assumably real poltergeists had done to make themselves known to the world, she either lacked their mojo or there was some secret she just wasn't privy to.
Where the hell was her spirit guide, her Jiminy Cricket, her albeit incredibly-sucky fairy godmother? Wasn't she supposed to have some help? Even a cosmic signpost to point her in the right direction? Rhett sighed deep, and long and watched as Liam turned in his sleep. This is what she had been reduced to—the freaking Sandwoman, watching from the shadows, lurking in plain sight. So. Pathetic.
* * *
SO UNEDITED. SOOOO THROWN ON THE PAGE. But there it is. Because I'm writing a ghost story. Well a story with many ghosts. And a curse. And lots of ghosts.
current mood: Meh
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| Monday, August 4th, 2014
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8:22 pm - A Woman's Perrogative aka Goblin King to the Rescue!
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Extremely random drabble time. Written because a friend had a bit of a malfunction today and apparently I found it inspiring enough to tap this out. ;)
***********************
"I don't understand! This isn't fair!" She was a grown woman emulating a child's battle cry. Alas, it was not without just cause.
"I have to wonder what your basis for comparison is." His voice crooned in a staccato accent.
"It only has one job! It's not supposed to fail me like this! What am I supposed to do?" Sarah's voice held all the desperation of a woman with a job interview in the morning. She looked at the carnage around her and could feel the frustrating presence of tears begin to form at her eyes. Also came the urge to throw things. She refrained; she might be speaking like a child but no need to act like one.....Yet.
"Luckily for you, my power is limitless, bounded only by the margin of dreams themselves. But this is not an ordinary gift, for an ordinary woman, who has a job interview. Do you want it?" The voice held a lilting supplication and more than a touch of glee. He had her and he knew it.
"You're telling me you can fix this....This abomination?" Sarah could feel herself dare to hope.
"I can make it the most glorious closet in the Aboveground. I can gild the walls in gold and gems I can--"
"Can you do built-ins? With lighting? And shoe boxes?" Sarah's eyes gleamed with a woman's avarice.
Jareth frowned, perplexed, "Well yes, naturally. But don't you want a tasteful Roman fountain or curtains of silk--"
"I'll take anything that gets this mess organized. Preferably by color. And don't forget to give me a place for my purses! You're the best! I have to run out to photocopy my resume, can we talk about payment later?" Sarah's face brightened as she waved in the general direction of the snarls of clothing and shoes that were heaped upon the floor, the result of a closet structure that had collapsed--ripped straight from the wall and tumbled to the carpet below.
Jareth stood there, dazed, as Sarah sent him a cheerfully smacking blown kiss before practically running from the room, leaving a trail of perfume in her wake.
Jareth glanced at the items tangled haphazardly on the floor and considered the fairly small closet. He was a king wasn't he? One of immense power and imagination.
He would make this closet the most beautiful room in Sarah's entire house. He would win her cooperation and eventually her love.
But first, he would find out what the bloody hell a built-in was and why Sarah had seemed practically orgasmic at the thought of shoe boxes.
He tapped a finger to his lips. This task was clearly important to the girl, perhaps with a nice chaise lounge, a bottle of wine and the right mood, he could see if her response could extend past shoes and mirrored lighting.
Jareth smiled wickedly. First he would conquer this closet, and then Sarah's heart.
FINIS.
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| Sunday, August 3rd, 2014
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9:30 pm - Heh.
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So writer-ly things haven't gone so well. But I am attempting to correct that now. I do so love my reviewers. They give me so much drive to continue!
Anywho. I still need to reread the first two of the All Souls Trilogy by Deborah Harkness so I can start on the third and final book. I've been waiting to read it like a child saving their favorite Halloween candies for later.....
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1:32 pm - Cradle Update....
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So I updated Cradle--even though I haven't written the next chapter. I think it's mostly because the next chapter is going to be a doozy. I've been careful to drop my crumbs but the next chapter is a hell of a lot of information that I'm trying to SHOW not TELL.
I still feel like it'll be a bit of an info-dump, though, so these things must be done delicately or we hurt the plot!
Plus, I've noticed a loooot more people lurking rather than reviewing which is freaking annoying. Granted the reviews that I HAVE been getting are worth their weight in gold, so at least there's that!
I finished reading Firebird by Susanna Kearsley last night! It's about Robbie! AAAAAAHHHHHH it was so exciting to see her revist him as a man grown and in love with a stubborn woman with gifts of her own. I ate that shit up.
And then deduced that I really must OWN ALL THE THINGS. I have a copy of The Winter Sea now I must needs Shadowy Horses and Rose Hill and Firebird and ALL THE THINGS, DAMMIT!!!!
Kearsley's mix of historical and fantastical is more alluring to me than a siren singing sailors onto the rocks. Than a thousand milk chocolate almond bars. Than over half of the books that I already own. (My PRECIOUSSSSSSSSES!!!!!)
So I have several writer-ly things that I need to accomplish. Today feels like a good day. We'll see how it goes! :)
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| Thursday, July 10th, 2014
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8:34 am - Wrote a drabble for  labyfic....
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It's super fun to see a community of Labyrinth writers! I do miss my favorite fandom. :)
Especially as most of my Laby people have since moved on. *cue Barb's MEMORIES playing on full blast*
It's interesting hopping back into fandom after such a long period of absence. We'll see how it goes. ;)
Anywho, the drabble prompt was one word: "Path"
Which gave me:
( Dreamer's PathCollapse )
Hopefully I can get lots of writing done today. I also need to watch the latest RB episode. It's one of Noelle's so it's bound to be better than most of S5.
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| Saturday, July 5th, 2014
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3:11 pm - A Fairweather Fan
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I admit it, I totally am one. I just don't see the point in sticking through something if I'm not 100% into it. (At least regarding movies and television shows--God knows I've stuck through some truly awful books.) I'm the type of person that gets INTO things and if I'm FEELING a show/movie I am OBSESSING. The moment that I start to get really frustrated or the storyline/characters have gone to crap I get pissed and irritated and after a short interim period, I decide if my annoyance to enjoyment ratios are skewed too far in the annoyed sector and then if they are, I stop watching.
Fairweather fan. Oh, absolutely. :)
Anyways. I bring this up because I started thinking about Jo Harvelle from Supernatural again thanks to finding a really gorgeous gif on tumblr. And suddenly I'm thinking of Supernatural. A show that I have watched and enjoyed but never written for. And I don't really want to WRITE A SUPERNATURAL fic because dear god. The work. And a new fandom..... ACK. No.
Anywho.
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4:13 am - Soooooooo. Updating.
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Today I spent quite a bit of time updating "Cradle" and then ruing the day I thought I could 'wrap it up' so that the poor thing could at least be complete and I could rest in the knowledge that I had finished at least one multi-chapter Fic in the fandom I hold closest to my heart.
(That's Labyrinth if you're new to my game.)
But the truth is that my reworking of the old Fic is still extremely complex and it's going to take time and effort to get it where it needs to be. And the real bitch of it is that it's still semi-similar to what I could remember about the old idea. Not the same. And it's more fleshed out, but yeah.
I also have an original that needs completing like.....now. And a couple of Rookie Blue fanfics because apparently I'm ridiculous.
So I'm still around. I'm now writing fanfic again, for better or worse, and trying to remember why it was so important to me to finish. And why did I get involved with another fandom? Particularly one with such fandom divides?
Granted I now have some AMAZING friends because of RB. But argh to fanfic. Argh!
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| Wednesday, November 17th, 2010
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5:13 am - Running up that Hill.
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By Placebo
It doesn't hurt me.
You wanna feel how it feels?
You wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me?
You wanna hear about the deal I'm making?
You be running up that hill
You and me be running up that hill
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building.
If I only could, oh...
You don't want to hurt me,
But see how deep the bullet lies.
Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder.
There is thunder in our hearts, baby.
So much hate for the ones we love?
Tell me, we both matter, don't we?
You, be running up that hill
You and me, be running up that hill
You and me won't be unhappy.
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building,
If I only could, oh...
'C'mon, baby, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let me steal this moment from you now.
C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling,
Let's exchange the experience, oh...'
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems [x2]
'If I only could, be running up that hill.' [x7]
*******
Holy crap this song is so awesome! I even dig the guy's nasal quality. No kidding. :P
I'm going to actually be bad, while I'm being good. ;) Here's a little snippet, inspired by this gorgeous song....
********
No time.
It's not just that I'm losing time. It's everything. Everything is speeding up; the sweat trickling down my temples is falling faster. My own body is betraying me with every pump of my legs. No matter how hard I try to push myself, it can never be fast enough. I'm running head-first into a nightmare. The worst part is that I know what I'll see when I finally get there.
I'm panting and my lungs are exploding; my head is spinning in panic. All I can hear is the furious beat of my heart and the thunderous billows of my gasps for air.
I'm pushing the door open and there's salt in my mouth and the smell of blood is so overpowering I retch even as I stumble inside.
White walls with red drips. An unmoving silhouette on the bed. And the copper taste of blood is cloying as the most potent perfume. Too late. Too damn late.
I'm sinking down, there's nothing left. I'm sinking down into the smell of blood and death and there are no deals to be made. No turning back the clock.
You've gone and I know the truth: we've lost.
*****
Everyone should take a listen to this song! :) Lurve it.
And yeah, snippet is depressing but it's totally inspired by this song! Hehe. (Funny, I could also see several Seanan McGuire or Illona Andrews characters doing epic things to this song! :) *shrugs* Just my inner bookworm getting excited but STILL!)
current mood:  cheerful
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| Friday, July 31st, 2009
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4:16 pm - Update...
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So I haven't been on LJ in so long that it feels strange to type this entry, but here goes. I went to Italy last summer and had an amazing time. Being able to see Venice and Rome and the Amalfi coast and all of the wonderful things that I was able to see and experience has further cemented my need to travel. It's become top priority, a close second to having enough financial security to DO the traveling. :P
I still have a year and a half of school left. Changing majors put me a bit behind, but I think the new major is where I should be so I'm content. I'm moving all of my stuff into my own apartment tomorrow--it'll be just me and the dog. I won't actually move in (with the dog) to said apartment for about another week or so, but hey, one step at a time, right?
I haven't done any writing lately, though I have come up with a couple writing ideas that I'm pretty excited about.
Rather than reading, or painting or partaking in any of my many, many hobbies, I've been revisiting my love of cooking and baking. This week I made a delicious and creamy homemade soup (Zuppa Toscana-- potatoes, sausage, kale and seasonings), baklava from scratch (honeyed greek desert with light crispy layers and nuts) and a layered desert that I hadn't had in years (Recipe we got from my Aunt with a pretzel crust whipped cream cheese layer then strawberry jello with bits of strawberry mixed in).
The last couple of months I've scoured the internet for recipes, printing out some and copying from family cookbooks and recipes so I have my own copies. Also, in early July I made my mother a homemade birthday cake with this delicious whipped frosting.
Late June I also made oreo cookies from scratch--I found a recipe on the internet. The cookie ends up being a bit thicker than store-boughts but the overall taste is dead on. I've been having a grand time baking and cooking, it'll be even more fun when I can start doing so in my very own kitchen. :)
So that's been it for me. Although I also had my wisdom teeth removed and I've yet to fully recover--gums are still giving me some problems, but they're healing and that's the important thing.
I'm also still disgusted and AMAZED that they're making a tv.show out of LJ Smith's "The Vampire Diaries." They[re trying to bank on the Twilight phenomena no doubt. But WOW. It's either going to do really well or it's going to BLOW. I already noticed (in commercials alone) that Elena is a BRUNETTE and Stefan keeps a DIARY. Haven't read the series in quite a while and even MY Internal Reader's alarm is pinging. I just hope they don't bastardize it to the point of ridiculousness. But then again, I don't see how else they can try for a decent series, the books weren't set up to be stretched very well. Maybe I'm being cynical, but I just don't know. Elena was wearing some dark gothic/trendy clothes and freaking CONVERSE in the preview-thing. That makes my Internal Reader want to go bury herself in a hole somewhere.
I don't think I'd care as much if I hadn't read the books when I was a pre-teen and loved them. When I saw the very first preview for the show the used the names: Stefan and Elena and he was a dark-haired broody guy hovered over a diary. I believe my first response was: "What the HELL?! They're making Vampire Diaries into a series?!!?!" Then the tv announced that: "Coming this fall, and based on the best-selling novels, "THE VAMPIRE DIARIES" would be coming to the CW."
I guess we'll see if VD sinks or swims come the fall.
Hmmm. Okay. Think that's all the ranting I can squeeze in for today, hopefully I'll be on to update more than I have been. Hope everyone's been great! Even though I haven't been on in a million years, I've still missed you guys! :)
current mood:  busy
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| Tuesday, January 15th, 2008
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6:04 am - I'm going to Italy!!
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I'm going to Italy this summer to study art history!!!! We'll be living in Florence for half the time and then spending about five days each in Venice and Rome! We also have a couple of "free" weekends too where we can go wherever we want to go in Italy!!!
ACCCCCCCCCCCK! I'm so excited!!!!!!
I'm going to be going with my good friend and we'll room together once we're there. SO EXCITED!!!!!!!
current mood: ecstatic
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| Sunday, October 21st, 2007
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12:43 am
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Wrote a totally random bit of.... um. "criping" (That's crappy writing for you guys, lol) the other day and figured I'd post it here. :)
"Untitled" (Though, I suppose it may be appropriate to title it "Mad Tomatoes") Once upon a time, a young girl name Fancy went to the market to fetch a tomato for dinner. Don't ask me why Fancy chose a tomato from all other available dinner items since I think the things are nasty, but there you go. Fancy wanted a tomato, so Fancy walked the four and a half blocks to WalMart to buy herself one.
In the store she came across an old man in tattered, stained clothing trying to sell someone the dirtiest, mangiest boot dear sweet Fancy had ever seen. It was peeling and cracked, and a myriad of crusty yellows and browns. Fancy looked into the rheumy eyes of the old man and felt a flicker in her sugar-spun heart. A melting, if you will. So instead of buying her tomato, as she had planned, Fancy did something dippy.
She bought the grungy footwear and held it in reverent hands as she exited WalMart and began her long trek home. Fancy had gone into WalMart for a tomato and she came out with a trashy boot instead. (I can't say that I'm surprised, Fancy's sort of a dumbass.)
When she returned to her room with it's pale pink walls and floral lace curtains, Fancy set the boot on her pristine windowpane ledge and gazed upon it with delight. She had made a difference in that old man's life, after all! A warm, fuzzy feeling of contentment stretched from her gooey marshmallow heart out to the rest of her.
Congrats, Fancy. You've really done good. And hopefully, as you brush your long hair and slip under your bubble-gum pink comforter, you can imagine those hunger pains away by thinking of your kind deed.
Fancy did try. She tried not to think of how she had spent all of her money on a boot that she couldn't do anything with. She tossed and turned and began rethinking her whole outlook on the situation.
By the time three am rolled around, Fancy wasn't so much a marshmallow as she was a flaming comet of hunger and bitchiness... (Well, maybe a marshmallow if it's one being burned black and shriveled in the fire until there's nothing left but the smoking stick.) Fancy shoved on her mary-janes and her brother's Metallica hoodie and marched the four and a half blocks to WalMart.
The old man was there, and today he was selling matchbooks that had half of the matches ripped out. Fancy walked up to him and flung the boot at his dirty, poorly groomed head and screamed about trechary, a boot, and how she wanted her tomato.
The old man, who wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders either, began to pelt her with matchbooks while he screamed about conspiracy, do-gooders, and his magic boot.
The WalMart store manager, Ken, walked in from a smoke-break to find Fancy and Old Guy having a scream session about shit that sounded.... Well, kinda crazy. So Ken did what anyone would have done. He called the cops.
Fancy and Old Guy were hauled out of WalMart and the good people got back to doing what they do best.... Shopping.
And how am I involved in all this, you wonder? Well, I'm just the guy unfortunate enough to have to listen to all this crap. But that's what happens when they handcuff you to the bench in the local jail.
Fancy's going home, she's one of those butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth types so she probably got off on a warning. And maybe it's none of my business but I've been around a while and I can tell you one thing... Old guy's probably just losing it. No doubt he's been on the streets awhile and it's all just starting to catch up to him. But that chick--Fancy?
Crazy as they come. You can see it in her eyes. I can bet you cold hard cash that she's gonna end up cracking one day and stabbing someone in the eye with a knitting needle or something. Bet you anything.
I mean, come on, four and a half blocks for a freaking tomato? Fancy's crazy as they come, man.
You just wait. I know my crazies.
current mood:  tired
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| Monday, June 11th, 2007
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4:10 am - Without a Sound...
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“Without a Sound” By Ellie A/N) I don’t own the Labyrinth. Was randomly productive a couple of days ago, finished typing this out earlier and am now posting despite (I’m sure) various errors I’ll beat myself over the head with later. Rough and unruly but here it is! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
current mood: a wee bit sleepy.
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3:58 am - Updates, updates, all around. (And Pinocchio's Speech from Shrek 3)
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I'd hardly call it the most stellar writing I've ever done, but I surprised myself lately with updating "Cradle" and even typing out a one-shot.
It's funny how letting go of fanfic managed to bring me back around. I highly doubt I'll be much more productive with it, but it's been nice writing new Laby chapters/stories. I left "Cradle" at a real WTF? moment though, so before I rest on my laurels (as I am wont to do) I should definitely post at least one more chapter.
Mayhap I shall try my hand at a couple other fandoms before all this drive to write fanfic sizzles out. I'll just have to wait and see, I suppose.
And for kicks and grins:
ELLIE'S FAVORITE PART IN SHREK THE THIRD:
Prince Charming threatens Gingerbread Man until GM is reduced to doing a loopy rendition of "Good Ship Lollipop." Prince Charming realizes that it's not so much GM being a tough nut to crack, as him being such an easy nut that he, kinda, *completely* cracked. Evil plan thwarted, Prince Charming must come up with a NEW ally of Shrek to grill for info. Enter: Pinocchio. Prince Charming leans in with a leer. (Ha! Leans... Leer! I'm good!) PC sees Pinocchio and says: "You! Well, you can't lie. So tell me puppet. Where is Shrek?" Pinocchio spins around, exorcise-style (Aka His head spins around before his body moves with it) And begins the funniest scene in the whole damn movie: "Uh, well, uh I don't know where he's not." PC gets some eyebrow lifting action goin' on while he extrapolates, little does he know, that a screechy-voiced Pinocchio has already begun his twisty twisty game of wordsmanship. "You're telling me you don't know where Shrek is?" Pinocchio fires back with the big guns (Snarkity snark snark!): "It wouldn't be inaccurate to assume that I couldn't exactly not say that it is or isn't almost partially incorrect." It's so beautiful I could cry! PC is beginning to sense where this is going though... Er, maybe not because HIS next remark is: "So you do know where he is!" Pinocchio has his opening, he has his Prince Charming RIGHT where he wants him! And here it comes: The crowning gem of round-the-bend double-double negatives: "On the contrary I'm possibly more or less not definitely rejecting the idea that in no way with any amount of uncertainty that I undeniable do or do not know where he shouldn't probably be. If that indeed wasn't where he isn't. Even if he wasn't there where I knew he was…It could mean that I couldn't possibly not know where he was..." *interject Gingerbread man singing "Good Ship Lollipop" in a he-needs-to-be-institutionalized sugar-dazed way. (But we can forgive him, after all, his entire life passed before his eyes earlier. *snicker*) The Three Pigs have been watching and listening to Pinocchio's brilliant non-nose-growing strategy so closely that they crack under the pressure of good double-talk. Or, er, double-double talk. ;) But hats are off to the bamboozle and razzle dazzle 'em PINOCCHIO, who will go down into the annals of history for contributing (in my humble opinion) the funniest lines in Shrek 3.
current mood: cheerful
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| Wednesday, May 9th, 2007
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11:34 pm - More Drivel. Er. WRITING. lol (Unedited)
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When by moonlight it falls, then by moonlight it dies; there is no comfort to be had in the deep silken dark...
When by moonlight it falls...
Air is retching from your lungs, the burn of it prodding at your stomach as your feet fly down the darkened streets. The amber-dim streetlights illuminate just enough to make the shadows seem to stretch out with malevolence. Seeking, hunting. Just another prickling on the back of your neck, just another reason to run.
Your ankles wobble, your muscles burn. You won't be able to continue for much longer. And if you can't run, you have no choice but to hide. But where? Where can you hide from the night? The streets are abandoned, the tiny shops lining it dark and empty. No help, no hope for the safety of numbers. You are truly alone.
Your ankle twists and it's enough to make you trip, it's enough to bring you crashing down onto the sharp grit of pavement. And oh, it hurts. But it's behind you and it's coming and if you don't get up, get UP right NOW, then it has you.
Then by moonlight it dies...
You hoist yourself back to your feet even as your abused body tells you how much it hurts, how much it wants to just quit... But you have to move, it's your only chance. There's blood on your tongue--the only dampness in your cottony mouth--and your heart is hammering in your chest and your ankle is sending deep lances of pain up your leg every time your take a step. You can feel it getting closer; it's the gnawing in your stomach, the weight of triumphant fury you can feel pressing in on you from all sides. You're weak and sniveling and too damn slow, because it's gaining fast.
There is no comfort to be had in the deep silken dark...
One chance. One last chance because it's almost here and you're out of time. You throw yourself down, deep in the shadowed niche of a brick building and smother your heaving lips with your hands and your fingers--desperately trying to hold in the noise even as your body fights to draw in air.
Dizziness and vertigo have begun to weave through your drumming skull. You loosen your fingers the tiniest bit even though you know that your desperate gasps are as good as a calling card. As you wait in the darkness for what hunts you, your life does not flash before your eyes. You don't suddenly recall the highlights of your existence, not the pitfalls, not about who will miss you when you're gone.
What you think of is primal. Instinctive. You will fight to preserve the life you possess. You want to live. You will not be snuffed out in this dingy corner, not now, not on this empty night.
There is no time to scream as the Hunter swoops down upon you, no time to fight like the cornered animal you are. There is only the suffocating darkness wrapped around you like a tightening vice. There is only the eerie sibilant tones of a monster as he wraps you in his shroud and carries you away.
current mood: amused
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| Monday, May 7th, 2007
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2:39 am - More Random Drivel, because I'm a terrible procrastinator. :P
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The Little Girl of Forgotten.
Once there was a girl that lived in a small cabin by the lake of Nevermore, on the fringe of Forgotten, just between the Kingdom of Real and the Fiefdom of Asleep.
She didn't know her name because her mother had drunk from the well of Lethe and was Lost.
Sometimes she thought she heard her mother's voice singing the silvery song from the scarred music box that was the little girl's only earthly possession. The strange ebb and flow of airy notes would hover in the air and bat against her ears like the butterflies that skimmed the flower fields.
But the voice would fade away, and the little girl was always alone.
She never ate or drank, nor did she curl upon the woven mat of reeds to sleep. Day after day, night after night, she would sit in silence until the full moon. For it was on the full moon that she would wind her music box and listen to its strange, bittersweet melody.
One night, as the box tinkled its magic song, the little girl looked up to find a shadow leaning in her doorway.
"Hullo."
The shadow didn't answer, stepping farther into the cabin toward the little girl and the box clutched in her hands.
Her voice wavered as the shadow grew menacingly tall, towering over her and blocking the light from the window as a cloud blocks the sun.
"Don't."
The shadow paused.
The little girl held her box with sweating palms as the last note faded into the air.
Her voice piped sweetly through the still night, "Don't leave me."
And on a dark night, deep in the hills of Forgotten, the little girl was no more.
current mood:  Being bad.
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| Thursday, April 26th, 2007
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11:21 pm - Hmmm. Interesting?
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1. You are not alone. You are walking in the woods. With who?
An Ideal. The man I'd WANT to be walking through the woods with. I have no idea who. lol.
2. You are walking in the woods. You see an animal. What kind of animal is it?
Wolf
3. What interaction takes place between you and the animal?
I freeze.
4. You walk deeper in the woods. You enter a clearing and before you is your dream house. Describe it.
Old Victorian with wrap-around porch and beautiful windows.
5. Is your dream house surrounded by a fence?
Only the backyard.
6. You enter the house. You walk in to the dining room and see the dining room table. What do you see on AND around it?
Chairs, a vase with flowers, a notebook and my keys.
7. You exit the house and a cup is on the ground, what kind is it?
Hmmm. Bronze? A gleaming cup of bronze.
8. What do you do with the cup?
Turn it upside down.
9. You walk to the edge of the property where you find yourself standing at the edge of a body of water. What kind of body of water is it?
A pond.
10. How will you cross the water?
Walk around, or swim.
If you read this, you must do it!!!!!!! Really think about your answers and write as truthfully as possible!
( Key, under cutCollapse )
current mood: chipper
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| Sunday, April 22nd, 2007
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6:27 pm - Gacked from shadowycat
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What in the WORLD? So I'm from all over, huh? Iiiinteresting. Especially since I was born in North Dakota, spent most of my years in California and now live in Alabama. Should I just close my eyes and point? *snicker* I can tell you RIGHT NOW that I *DO NOT* have a southern accent.
( Read more...Collapse )
current mood:  thoughtful
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| Monday, April 16th, 2007
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9:12 am - Random Writing. Unfinished, unedited, but kinda funny. Er. *I* thought.
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It was a cold day in Hell. Myrtle shivered, bemused at this entirely new torment, as the unbearably strange clime settled over Hell’s eternal fires, spewing brimstone like a blanket of frost that some giant shook out and then let fall.
Myrtle rubbed her scaled talons over her blackened skin in great discomfort. You would think that after being barbequed to death for over a thousand years she would have found the drop in temperature a relief, but truth-be-told, after so many years of being crisped by fire and lava she had actually become fairly desensitized to the whole ordeal. Or at least as desensitized as any torture victim can be.
This must be some new punishment, she mused to herself as her teeth chattered and her skin mottled with cold. The other denizens of Hell were having much the same reaction—startled curses in hundreds of languages began to rumble as even the lava pools began to cool into black islands. One unlikely demon had his forked tail caught in the hardening lava and had to be yanked out en masse by the strangest “heave-ho!” that Myrtle had ever witnessed.
Demons, devils, humans, and imps united as they huddled together in groups to preserve body heat. Myrtle stayed on her vantage point (a mound of bone overlooking the fire pit, or what used to be the fire pit) and watched as all the citizens of Hell shook and shivered until they appeared to be doing some sort of bizarre dance.
Funny, thought Myrtle, I believe I used to dance. Memories of her past life had long since been forgotten after the agony of being perpetually tortured, so she found it incredibly odd that in this new, cold Hell, the fuzzy beginnings of old memory had begun to take shape.
She recalled the feel of a fan in her fingers, the swish of silk against her legs as she walked; of a man with dark eyes catching her gaze across a crowded room…
Myrtle shook her head free of such alien thoughts and wrapped her arms more tightly around herself against the backlash of icy winds that began to swirl around the caves of Hell with alarming velocity. Cries for mercy could be heard, rising above even the wind, just as the snowflakes began to flutter from the sky.
Myrtle forgot the cold for a split-second as she watched one delicate ice crystal land on her arm—a perfect star—before it melted away. The wonder of the snow seemed to be catching; for one eerie moment, there was no sound: no screams, no moans, no pleas for mercy. There was only silence as the snowflakes peppered down from some mysterious place above.
current mood: tired
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| Friday, April 13th, 2007
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11:57 pm - Contests? Moi?
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Weeeell. I just entered a contest to write something about faeries--about what we might see if fairies walked among us.
Uuuuuuuum. Well, what can I say? I gave it a shot... Lol. (360 max word requirement)
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I’ve seen them through the snaking limbs of naked trees—dancing under the night sky—hazy auras of color hanging around them like tattered lace. I have seen the terrible beauty of Faeries and the vision of them is burned into my mind like the clawing prick of thorns.
I wandered from the bonfire, away from the clinking of bottles and the burbling laughter of those that huddled around the tall flames. The stars spun as I tripped over a grasping root and fell giggling into the support of a tall tree. A cold breeze slid across my hot cheeks and I closed my eyes against the sensation. Nothing stirred. The forest seemed frozen in silence.
A hazy light from ahead made me stop. Had my group gone exploring without me? I headed towards the glow as silently as I could, gracelessly crunching through leaves and snapping twigs.
As I grew closer, I noticed the colors—a strange chalk-in-the-rain blending that stunned me into immobility. I peered through the tangle of underbrush and the sting of needle-sharp plants into a clearing where creatures of incredible beauty danced rings around a man tied to the trunk of a dead oak.
Each of the beautiful beings had a color that seemed to writhe around their forms—sunlight filtered through a cloud—plum and cerulean blue, emerald with a dappling of yellow. Colors that danced and mixed and shone with the unreality of dream.
Their faces were angular with slashing cheekbones and pointing chins, heartbreaking perfection to match the gleeful smiles that plumped their lips. Their hair fell in cloaks to the dirt, gathering leaves, snagging in plants before being ripped carelessly free.
Like children, they darted around the bedraggled man that strained helplessly against his bonds. I heard him scream—a hoarse plea of pain before I realized that with each of their lightning-quick movements towards him, the man was being flayed; red blood was welling up from his pallid skin.
A scream clawed its way up my throat and lodged there as my brain swam in helpless terror. I let out a ragged gasp and the beings all turned.
I ran.
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I just realized that I really hate a particular line from above. *le sigh* Too late now, lol. I already sent it in!
current mood: amused
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| Tuesday, March 13th, 2007
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10:54 pm - Haven't written in a while... :( So here's something literary! Kinda. Lol.
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Today marks a passage in time for me. Uh, quite literally. I don't have any real reason to be writing this, barring it being a prime example of my procrastination skills hard at work, yet again.
Okay. THAT being said.....
I just finished reading Vicki Pettersson's "The Scent of Shadows" and it was pretty awesome. I don't know whether any of you have any interest in Urban Fantasy or not, but I can say with complete honesty that it's, by far, my favorite genre of book.
A quick definition of "urban fantasy" brought to you by Wikipedia ('cause I'm cool like that) is:
~A subset of contemporary fantasy, consisting of magical novels and stories set in contemporary, real-world, urban settings -- as opposed to 'traditional' fantasy set in wholly imaginary landscapes, even ones containing imaginary cities, or having most of their action take place in them. The modern urban fantasy protagonist faces extraordinary circumstances as plots unfold in either open (where magic or paranormal events are commonly accepted to exist) or closed (where magical powers or creatures are concealed) worlds.~
I won't go on to talk about the book because I think it'd be extremely difficult to capture all of the necessary elements of it without just flat-out summarizing, which is tedious. I WILL say, once again,that it was a good book--totally worth reading.
Speaking of "reading," we're covering Byron in English Lit and I must confess a schoolgirl crush on the Byronic hero, even though I think Heathcliff is an ass. (of Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights") ((Heathcliff is apparently a prime example of the Byronic hero))
Wikipedia says:
~The Byronic hero is an idealized but flawed character exemplified in the life and writings of Lord Byron: characterised by his ex-lover Lady Caroline Lamb as being "mad, bad and dangerous to know". The Byronic hero first appears in Byron's semi-autobiographical epic narrative poem Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1812-18). ~
There's an entire list of attributes as well, but I'll just keep it simple and make my own: the Byronic hero is a dark, brooding man that's seen too much--he's jaded--he's "bad" and cynical, with all sorts of flaws to his character (a big one often being arrogance) and yet there's so much more to him beneath the surface.
*le sigh* Ooooh yeah, that's definitely crush material. However, I must emphasis "schoolgirl crush," because while the Byronic hero in print (and often movies) makes my heart go pitty-pat, I don't think I could handle that type of person in real-life. Who would want to? Lol.
I suppose the real reason that I find that type of character so appealing is that flaws are often more telling than perfection when it comes to people--or at the very least, they're certainly more interesting. I like seeing someone who's inherently flawed reveal hidden depths. Still waters and all that jazz.
Besides, seeing something heroic shine through a veil of "bad" is infinitely more fun than watching Superman save the day, get the girl, and fly off with perfectly coiffed hair.
If you've managed to stick through this entry to the end I am forced to believe one of two things about you:
1.) You like to read, and thus found this interesting.
or
2.) You're bored out of your mind.
If you consider yourself from the first group- hey, neat! :D And if you are from the latter, then cheer up! 'Cause this entry is about to...........
End.
current mood: bouncy
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