Friday, June 19, 2009

What you don't know....
Hands quivering as they rested on the slim, leather-bound artist’s journal in her lap, Alia stared at the floor, an indiscernible aura of madness burning in her pale green eyes. Gingerly taking her hand, Spencer rubbed his thumb comfortingly across the back of her hand. “You can wait until you’re ready to tell me,” he told her in soothing tones.

Shaking her head, Alia tilted her head so that her eyes drilled into his, making him flinch from the direct stare. “I’m never going to be ready,” she said quietly. “So why will waiting make it any easier?”

Neither of them had an answer to that, so Alia moved on. Tentatively, almost fearfully, Alia opened the journal to the first page. Blind, a tall man stood on the sidewalk by a busy street, smiling towards the onlooker that he could not see.

“He has no eyes,” Spencer commented.

“I couldn’t remember them,” she muttered, before turning the page. The man was standing there, in the midst of her living room, smiling to a young boy. Again, his eyes were gone. “That’s Riley,” she whispered, tracing a finger along the young boy’s cheek. “When he was five.”

“You remember?” Spencer asked, and Alia merely nodded, eyes darkened as she stared intently at her old friend’s face. After a moment, Spencer dared to ask, “Who’s the man, then?”

“He was a friend of the family friend,” she whispered. “He volunteered in the community, was a sunday school teacher at the old church, and taught kids how to play the piano.”

“He sounds nice,” said Spencer with a faint smile towards the fellow pianist.

“He does sound nice,” Alia said absently, turning the page.

A disturbing scene was before their eyes. On his side, laying on a bed, the eyeless man was holding a young girl in his arms, a tender, yet eerie expression on his face. Somehow, the smile said so much more than a man and a student. The girl, face turned away, was looking up at the man. Even though her expression was unseen, her body said it all. Sad. Confused. Afraid, so very afraid.

Spencer held his tongue, and Alia made no attempt to speak, merely turning the page. Once more, the man was with the girl, but he was holding her in his arms like one would a toddler. Face visible now, Alia’s childish pale eyes stared solemnly at them out of the page. “It’s you,” Spencer choked out. “So that girl, in the last picture...”

“Was me,” she said, no emotion in her voice. For a long time they were silent, before she spoke again, voice quivering with unnamable emotions. “He had met me briefly, as my mother dragged me out of the door when she left my father.” Her voice dimmed, before growing strong again as she carried on. “He said that he had never seen such a beautiful child. He told me that I was special, that we were special....”

“We?” Spencer asked, more sharply than he intended.

“Yes. He said that he loved me,” she whispered.

Reaching over, Spencer turned the page. A view of a man’s strong, bare shoulders, with his arm going towards the looker as if he was leaning over them. In the background, a small, pale hand was raised in a hopeless cry of fear. On his shoulders were nail marks, matching the ones on his forearms. “He told me that he went insane when my mother took me away,” Alia supplied dully. “He’d claw at himself, trying to tear his flesh off because he couldn’t stand not being around me.”

Hoping to avoid further fear, Spencer turned the page, immediately wishing he hadn’t. An explicit scene lay before him, the man and the little girl, in bed. He gagged briefly, looking away. “I remembered in a dream,” Alia said, voice dead. “I stood and just watched it all happen again,” once again, her voice broke. Continuing on, she told him quietly, “You may want to skip the next five pages or so. I had these dreams a lot, and I don’t know what possessed me to draw them.”

Listening to her advice, Spencer skipped those five pages and found himself staring back into a pair of intense, almost mad, eyes. He skipped ahead, finding page after page of intense, staring, insane eyes. The last pair frightened him the most. They were rolled up slightly, as if in ecstatsy, burning with such intense insanity that it made him cringe. “I told you I couldn’t remember them,” Alia whispered. “But I learned that I didn’t want to remember them, once I did.”

At that, Spencer broke down crying, hiding his face in his hands as he cried for his love, the broken girl who was so horribly abused and had forced herself to forget. He cried for the injustice of it, the double-edged blade that she had carried with her all of her life; the pain of never knowing and the inexpressible agony of remembering. Placing an arm around his shoulders, Alia summed it all up by saying quietly, “Sometimes, what you don’t know can hurt you.”
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Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Oh dear, I can't stand in a puddle of myself and stay dry..... better get my rain boots!
I just read a magnificent book. It's called "Deadline" by Chris Crutcher, and that guy knows what he's talking about.

The main character, Ben, is diagnosed with a malignant, aggressive blood disease that will kill him within the year. So he decides to keep that a secret and live his life as best as he can.

It's INCREDIBLE. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay worth the time.

The thing is, I synched with the main character. He kept it a secret from everybody, and the secrets I keep are crazy.

Like in 8th grade I blew a guy, and have had flings with him ever since, even AFTER he screwed/raped my best friend and knocked her up. (What a lovely bitch I am)

And that I'm dating a guy that I met via the internet and I haven't told my parents. Did I mention we've been dating since July?

Oh, and my parents know NOTHING of this. :D

Should I at least tell them about the guy?
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Wednesday, December 24, 2008

The Doctor is: IN
I feel like being a therapist, so come on my dears! Come rant to me and tell me your problems!
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Wednesday, December 17, 2008

ICTHEUS!!!!!!
Ictheus is a goldfish.

Ictheus is going to take over the world!

Please vote for Ictheus.
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Thursday, December 4, 2008

Something random I made up on the spot
Doubled over and gasping, Dante retched as his stomach tried to cope. Dizzy, he looked blindly up at the stern looking boy standing over him. "Awww...." he crooned. "Is Dante feeling sick?" A cruel smile twisting his face, he kicked Dante in the stomach viciously. "Poor baby. He should go home to Mommy." Bending down, he gripped Dante's face and jerked it up to look into his pitiless eyes. "But wait! Mommy's not around to take care of baby. Where's Mommy, huh?"

Dante mumbled something, and Spencer kicked him carelessly once more. "Speak up! Didn't anyone teach you manners, scum?"

Raising his head, Dante gave him a blazing look of wrath, his ocean eyes holding all the wrath of Charybdis. "She's dead!" he bellowed in Spencer's face.

Slapping him with casual violence, Spencer asked coldly, "Why?"

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Dante gave him another glowering look. "She killed herself after Dad turned up dead."

"Maybe she was sick of you."

Without warning, Dante lunged at Spencer. Knocking him to the ground, he began to pummel the gang-leader, not caring of any of the returning punches. He was beyond punches, beyond his broken ribs, beyond his bruised jaw. He was beyond pain and far into the embrace of sheer rage. "You have no right!" he screamed hysterically. "You can't say anything about that!"

"Why not?!" Spencer screamed, just as mad. "I can say whatever I want about a good for nothing bum like you-"

"Shut up! Your dad committed suicide just like my mom!"

And there was silence. Only the snow that fell about Dante's listening ears was the other witness to the soft sobs that escaped Spencer's chest.
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Sunday, November 16, 2008

My new story: Club!
Mina stood on her tiptoes, trying her hardest to see over the bar counter. If Juu-san would just allow her to stand on his stool, she could easily greet the customers without getting trampled on, like he said she would if she stood too close to the door. So now Mina was forced to peep over the counter to peer up at the solemn looking stranger. When this newcomer saw her big blue eyes peering up at him, however, his face broke into a smile. Blushing, she hid behind Juu-san. "Sorry about her, sir. Mina-chan is just a bit shy...." Juu-san apologized.

"Not at all. Mina-chan, eh? Hello Mina-chan!" the man said with a smile.

"Hello," she squeaked, and hid again.

Later, when she carried the order to the man, he smiled and thanked her for giving him his meal. "You're welcome!" she said, beaming. "Juu-san says to apologize for them being clay dishes, since he won't let me carry china."

"Why not, Mi-chan?"

"Juu-san says I'll break them!" Mina pouted. "I'm five years old though! I can carry a silly dish!"

"Indeed you can," he said, bowing his head. "Thank you all the more, Mi-chan."

Giggling, she blurted, "You're very nice, Etoranze-san!" From the kitchens, Juu-san called her. "Bye bye!"

"Farewell, Mina-sama," he whispered. "May your days be long."
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Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Doll
WARNING: This is a slightly disturbing story that contains content unsuitable for those sensitive to abuse. Please do not read if you can't handle it. This story is about a girl who is sexually abused by her father, so it's mature, but I'm leaving out the details. Enjoy.

Arms folded tightly across her chest, her icy blue eyes stared across the hall, a scowl fixed on her face. Once again, like every class, she had managed to get kicked out again. They should have thrown out that stupid boy for flirting with her and pulling her hair. No one had any idea what that did to her. Burying her face in her arms, she bit the inside of her cheek hard to prevent the memories, and focused on the smug look on that stupid boy’s face. Idiot.....

Walking in the door, she found herself face to face with her father. He was a short man, only a few inches taller than her, but his stark black eyes that bored so pitilessly into her made her feel miles shorter. “You get kicked out again today?” he asked her gruffly.
Not meeting those angry eyes, she let out a muffled, “Yes.”
“Any reason why you get kicked out of every class?” he said, his voice cutting her deeply.
“Those stupid boys keep pulling my hair and flirting with me,” she mumbled, still not looking at him.
A silence, and then he took her backpack and flung it to the ground. Grabbing her slender forearm, he dragged her upstairs to her room, where he shoved her in and shut the door behind him. As he advanced on her, she shut her mind off and let him use her like a lifeless doll once more......

The next day, she lasted the whole day without getting kicked out. Glassy eyed and dull, however, she didn’t say a word in class. She was afraid of what might come out.

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Monday, October 27, 2008

All Hallow's Eve
Who here is dressing up for Halloween?

I'm gonna be a goth's worst nightmare.

My hair is gonna be pink, my shirt is pink, I have a school girl skirt, and I have hot pink leggings.

I'm such a barbie.
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Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Panicking slightly here.....
My boyfriend told me he had to go to Urgent Care yesterday because he was coughing up blood. He's getting tested for Tubercleosis and I'm very worried..... *sigh* I really hope he'll be okay....
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Saturday, October 4, 2008

Amazing....
Wow. So I had a bestest friend in 8th grade. Still with me? Good. Then we had a huge fight last year in 9th grade, which ended our friendship. Long story short, I sided with my other friend Kim (who was also best friends with the other girl), and now we never even speak to the other girl. Lately, I heard from the ex-friend's friend (try saying that five times fast), that she was feeling bad and all sorts of nice things, and I felt bad for our huge bitch-fest. So I PM her, say hi, comment nicely on her profile, and guess what I got?

A HUGE rant about how much she hates me. She's kept in aaaaall that rage for two years (well, one and a half), and then exploded on me. It was faintly surprising and scary.... Huh, just when you think you can make the world happy.... anyways....

Comment if you want details.
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