Dreamweaver: Comparisons

Title: Comparisons (Chapter Excerpt)
Author: SilverInk
Writing: NaNoWriMo Excerpt
Word Count: 536

Seth was early. He didn’t see the masked girl anywhere and thus found a seat in the courtyard, sitting there and thinking about Rhiannon. Or more precisely, what Rhiannon had said. “I’m like Storm, I think. I try to be good, but no one likes me still.”

“Well, Storm had Sonora right? And August?”

“Her best friend is a crazy lunatic out to destroy the world and her crush is a nerd. I don’t like how that goes.”

“You said Sonora was your favorite character though.”

“You remember that?” Rhiannon had stopped walking, surprised, and at his nod, she had seemed touched or at least pleased by this. She continued walking. “Sonora is my favorite character. But she’s still a crazy lunatic bent on destroying her half of the planet.”

“At least the crazy lunatic’s friend liked her though, right?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“The nerd liked her too.”

“Well, she doesn’t know that.”

“Until the end.”

There was a pause after this line until Rhiannon finally said, “You’ve really brushed up on your knowledge of the game this past month.” 

He shrugged. “A few of my new friends take the myth really seriously.”

“You mean Renna.”

“And Krahn. He knows so much about all the myths and anything history-related. It’s amazing. I swear, he has all of Geene’s lectures memorized or something.”

“Krahn likes history.” She shrugged. “Mrs. Julwood is a storyteller. Figures her grandson would like stories as well.”

“I guess.”

“But the point is Storm ends up to be the good guy. She’s the Saviour,” Rhiannon said, shaking her head as she guided the conversation back to the beginning.

“So?”

“I-I’m not. I’m not all nice. I try to be, but well, I’m not really that nice.”

“So you’re saying you’re more like Sonora,” Seth said, trying to figure her out.

“In that case…” she trailed off, unlocking the door to her house. She stopped, holding the door open for a moment. “I wish you were Wyntir,” she said quietly. She then vanished into the house very quickly, with a hurried “See you later” and wave. He had proceeded homewards, rather confused. And only when he saw Perika at home, showing off her new skates did he suddenly say, “Adda takes the myths seriously too.”

“Yes, she does,” Perika had said, before continuing her hyper dance. 

“But none of the guys do.”

“No they don’t,” Perika confirmed. “Why are you thinking of this now?”

“It just struck me that my two groups of friends are nothing alike.”

“You just noticed?”

“Yea. What does that make me then?”

“Gray.”

“What?”

“Between black and white? Shut up, I know black and white are shades of gray. But you know what I mean.”

“Sure.”

They were quiet and after a while Perika walked upstairs. He started up the stairs as well before she rushed down again and said sternly, “I like Adda more than any of those boys in that other group though.”

Someone poked his shoulder and he looked up, thinking it would be the masked girl. Instead, he found himself looking at Renna, again dressed in her red and white prophet-class robes, carrying the staff with the transparent orb in it. 

Artist's note: No finality, most of it was a flashback -.- Sorry about the crappy update? But it's still an update? ^^ I'm about 6K words from finishing NaNo though, so >:D

Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving and thanks for reading!

~SilverInk

P.S. Please comment?

Dreamweaver: Assignments

Title: Assignments
Author: Silver Ink
Writing: NaNoWriMo Excerpt
Word Count: 1011

With the portals not functioning, Seth wasn't surprised when he selected a portal on the edge of the Dark lands and ended up in the Dark Palace, before the main portal there. The guards--obviously already warned--made sure he was who he claimed he was before allowing him to pass. Immediately he made his way to the throne room, and saw Damien, Seriah and Vinn talking outside. Gina was again nowhere to be seen. 

"Seth, you made it," Damien joked. 

"Yea, I was doing your homework," he retorted at his teacher before turning to Vinn seriously. "Nothing?"

The usually affable general was sullen and shook his head dejectedly. "The fever is still raging and she won't wake up, according to my mom."

"What about the confidant?" Seriah asked, greeting Seth with a simple nod. 

"Our cousin Fyra. She can only observe when my mom's not freaking out, and her parents are getting suspicious, with her taking so many things from the kitchen, and still requesting more. Whenever our mom's not there, I soak her gloves in cold water and Fyra keeps an ice pack tucked around them as much as possible. It's been hard, convincing our mom that we can't take her gloves off. She's convinced they're what's causing the fever."

"I don't get that. Why can't we take off our dreamgloves once we're here? " Seth asked after a moment. He saw the other's incredulous expressions and clarified, "I mean, I know they get us here and keep us here and give us all the added abilities, but at worst we'd just float out and be dreaming as usual right?"

Seriah answered immediately: "They are what make you tangible in this platform. If you arrived and then someone took off your dreamgloves, then your soul--and thus you--would still be here, but you would be unable to actually touch or feel anything. If you are unable to touch anything, you would also be unable to exit through the portals and return to your body on the mortal platform. The only way to return would be to use one of the rifts located in each region here. But as we all know, only the ones in Cloud Haven and Ashsong are still in working condition."

"Huh?" Vinn looked up at the last statement. "What happened to the others?"

"Melantonie's is under repair after Trixicus ripped it apart in his attempt to reach the mortal platform," Damien said. "Last time I was there the Royal Council of Melantonie was debating the risks of closing the rift while the portals are so unpredictable. Closing the rift would mean sealing themselves up from all help, but with the siege on the region so heavy, they are considering evacuating and closing the rift so Trixie can't use it. 

"Candlelight's was closed in Alenzave to be moved and hasn't been reopened since the war started. 

"Visokia's was divided into the grand portals in the Light and Dark Palaces. Of course, the one in the light palace is inoperable, thanks to yours truly."

"And Somni Isles...well, we don't know the condition of that," Vinn said miserably, understanding. As an afterthought he added, "Infected, probably,"

"Ashsong and Cloud Haven," Seth repeated. "Speaking of Ashsong, where's Tangela?"

"Exactly what I was going to address," Kerra said, standing in the doorway. "There you all are. Come in, come in. I'm sorry you had to wait so long."

They all bowed and entered the now-vacated throne room. 

"If you don't mind, I will be direct--Tangela has been captured."

"And Lycian?" Damien blurted, shocked. Tangela had again been assigned to guard Lycian as the squad led by the prince of Light joined the battle on Somni Isles.

 "Trixicus himself was in battle, according to the messenger who carried the message. Lycian was taken first, overwhelmed by Trixicus and his army, and Tangela was captured when she tried to rescue him."

"If only she had waited for backup," Seriah mused softly.

"No, I would have done the same," Damien asserted. "By the next night, Lycian could have been moved elsewhere. Lady Dusk, are we to attempt another rescue then?"

"Yes. Vinn though--the messenger said that he did not see Gina in the battle, and no one on Somni has seen her for nearly three days."

Vinn paled. "Exactly how long she's been sick," he muttered breathlessly.

"Instead, I received word from Melantonie that someone somewhat like her was there briefly."

"Milady, I request permission to follow this lead."

"Granted. Aaron and Kailen have volunteered to accompany you."

"Thank you milady. We will not fail to find Gina before the week is out."

"I trust you will, Vinn. I have heard that you three boys preformed spectacles together during my father's reign."

"Thank you, milady," Vinn said. He strode out to begin this new task immidiately. 

"Sethen, I have another job for you as well." Kerra said. "Go to the Councils of Cloud Haven, Candlelight, and Ashsong and collect the packages they have prepared for us. This is of great importance.”

Kerra nodded. "Seriah, I understand you cannot attempt the rescue alone."

"Alone, my lady?"

"Sethen informed me that Damien has matters in the mortal realm to deal with," she said. "I cannot trust anyone else to this mission and will thus accompany you myself." Before anyone could protest, she screeched "Mother!" Gillian appeared at the side door. 

"I understand my responsibilities," Gillian said, lifting her chin a little in pride or disapproval.

"Good. I leave my scepter with you then, and trust you will not use it,” Kerra said. She set the scepter back in it’s usual pedestal, and prepared to descend but again gripped the scepter. There was a gust of air around her and the short train and many folds of her skirt blew up for a moment. A sweep of dark energy whirled around her and when she stepped out of the fading gloom, she was newly dressed, in black armor with light blue and dark magenta accents. 

“Lady, do you—”

“It has been decided.”

Artist's Note: UPdate this week! :D :/

Yea, out of context again. And a lot of it's just word-fillers because I'm in a race to reach 50K first, and even though I have about 10K more than her, I know the fragile nature of my situation. And I'm still almost 10K behind the expected word count anyways. T_T 

I'm starting to detest how similar my characters are -.- So when and if I get back to roleplaying, I'm going to focus on a few of them instead and try to develop them...more. Any suggestions who to add to this handful? I was thinking anywhere from 2 to 5 or 6 characters max. :D 

Thanks for reading! 

~SilverInk

P.S. I created a new blog! "Herbert Wiles" has only one post right now, and I'm the only writer, but I'm looking for writers and readers! :D Tell me what you think!

Dreamweaver: Costume Debate

Title: Costume Debate
Author: SilverInk
Writing: NaNoWriMo Excerpt
Word Count: 630

Seth groaned at the sound of his living alarm clock: his sister. “Perika Illyzian SHUT UP!” he hollered at her. “It’s not even a weekday for dream’s sake.”

“Yes, but it’s Hallows!” Rika said delighted. “Look, I made us costumes! I didn’t know what you wanted to be, but I’m a witch!” She showed him the rather tattered looking costume and then dropped it again. “It’s all crumpled for some reason. I’ll fix it before we go though. “Anyways, you have to try on your costume! I was going to make you a pumpkin head, but the pumpkin head’s smashed. It’s ok. What do you want to be? A chicken? A vampire? A—”

“Asleep,” he snapped and pulled the blanket over his head. 

The pillow was suddenly swept out from under him and his head hit a small info-packet. Rubbing his head as he sat up, Seth glared at Rika, who dropped the pillow back on the bed and peered curiously at the digital paper that had been under his pillow. 

“University of Hyelte, Verbena?” She read. “UHV? Wow, I though you’d want to go to August or something!”

“August University’s overrated. I’m considering UHS though.”

“Sentuzina?”

“Yea.”

“Why do you want so stay so close to the Verbena bubble though? Hyelte’s a large region, you could go away! You’re always talking about going away anyways.”

“I like the bubble. And it’d save money.”

Rika peered at the page again, and then said perkily, “Sentuzina has a great dipole-study program. They actually host the yearly expedition to Storm!”

“I know,” he said, getting off the bed and wandering into the bathroom for a shower, snatching the pile of clothes he’d laid aside last night. “But Sentuzina’s not that good.”

“You mean it’s not that well known.”

“Same difference.”

“It isn’t!” she pouted and stuck the paper under his pillow again. “Anyways, sticking an info-packet under your pillow isn’t getting you anywhere.”

“I’m almost done with my essay,” he called.

“What about it? You want to be a vampire? Werewolf? You can’t be a pumpkin. Witch—I mean wizard? What about a pixie?”

“I am not being a pixie again. That was an embarrassment. I’d have dressed up as anything else. I was going to ditch school that day and stay in my room. I am NOT being a pixie again. Especially not a pink one.”

Rika laughed and continued ranting. “A skeleton? A princess? A weird beast? Something random? A celebrity? Do you think someone would go as Headmistress deCallas? That’d be so scary! But she’s nice. What about you dress up as one of your teachers? Like Mr. Corren! I think I have temporary blue coloring somewhere!” She quieted, thinking. “I wonder if anyone will do that. Or if anyone would dress up as Mrs. Corren. She has pretty hair, I think. It’s all light blue and neat. And she always ties it up in a cute way. I’d like to ask how she does it. They’re so young. I wonder if they have any kids.”

Seth wandered out, already dressed, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. “I doubt it. Mrs. Corren’s always hanging around the campus. If they had a kid she’d be at home, taking care of it, don’t you think? ”

“Doesn’t Mrs. Corren work at school though? She has one of those Holly Academy employee badge stickers on her ID drive.”

“That’s because she’s always on campus. I think.”

“Maybe she teaches an art class? Oh! Or singing! She sings so well! Did you hear her last week?”

“When she was singing that duet with deCallas?”

“The skating coach?”

“Yea yea.”

“That’d be Coach deCallas. Or Mrs.”

“We call them by their surname. It’s good enough.”

     “It’s not respectful. Anyways, I’ve decided.” 


Artist's Note: SORRY! No post, and then this post is completely out of context. But anyways, it's a part of my NaNoWriMo project, Dreamweaver (I decided against using the EtHR idea two days before NaNo started >.<). I'm at around 15K words, almost 6K words behind schedule. XP


Hopefully everything is understandable?


In case not... (>.<) this is a rough approximation of places:
August University= Stanford/ Harvard/ MIT/ Yale/ etc prestigious university
Holly Academy= Irvine High School
Hyelte= California
UHV= University of Hyelte, Verbena= University of California, Irvine
UHS= University of Hyelte, Sentuzina= University of California, Tustin
Verbena= Irvine


And this probably isn't necessary, but just for kicks (Only IHS people will get this):
Headmistress Xena deCallas= Principal Monica Colunga (except I don't think she has a daughter...)
Mr. Damien Corren= Jacobs (except he coaches softball, I think, not flying, lol)


Sorry for lack of update! I will try to be good >.
~SilverInk


P.S. Yes, I actually do keep a booklet from UCI under my pillow. XP But it's only because I'm going there. I WILL!

Do not read, this is avoidable.

A caution beforehand... I found this story especially disturbing, myself. Despite your human curiosity, if mass suicides creep you out to the point that it keeps bothering you after you're done reading, don't read this.

Title: Crushed

Author: Lewis
Writing: nightmare
Word count: 106
Warning: assisted mass suicide

---------------------------------------

"Do it for me, baby."

Your mother touches you encouragingly on the shoulder, urges you to push the button. One by one the people stand on the edge of the garbage chute and let themselves falll.

One by one.

You don't hear them hit the bottom.

When the machine compresses its cargo into a smaller block, you hear a groaning, but you're not sure if it's the machinery or the people being crushed. Everything feels numb, and you can't scream or cry. You can't find it in yourself to do anything except stare at the controls in front of you.

the groaning.

Why isn't it stopping?

"Conversations with my thirteen year old self" by Rice

Title: Converstations with my thirteen year old self...

Author: Rice
Writing: Short biographical story/ songfiction
Word count: 1474
Warning: Beware of epicness

The sun was high up in the sky a couple of hours ago and now it was coming down to northwestern sky. The sun's rays were blocked by the white thin blinds from the window; there were only a few openings enough to see the squalid kitchen.


Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, messy stale crumbs scattered on the counter tops and the wooden floor, and dust roamed the air. I have been watching this home for a while now, and in a week itreduced to this state.


A pregnant mother was sleeping upstairs in her room in depression; the loss of her dream because of another dream that was less desiring for her. The boys were out, wanting to get away from the desolated house, and the father was burying himself at work, avoiding the raging fights between him and his wife.


Their home was nothing more, but an atmosphere of struggles and suffocation of loneliness and misery. They thought moving here was a good idea and in the end, it crumbled to nothing, but unthinkable decisions.


I sat there on the couch in the living room, facing the unkempt kitchen. I heard footsteps treading down each step of the stairs in a sloppy, lazily manner. A girl between thirteen and fourteen years old walked into the kitchen, carrying an empty cup.


She went over to the water dispenser and placed her cup in it. She pressed a button and water came out, pouring in to cup, filling it. She pulled her finger away and grabbed her cup, placing it on the counter.


She stood still for a while, deeply thinking about something as she stared hard at her water. Finally, she opened the cabinets above her and looked through the bottles of medicines and pills.


She took out on small, pill bottle that was prescribed by a doctor months ago to her father. Her eyes fixed on the labels of caution and dosage; she took out three pills.


I kept watching her in anxiety and fear; I know what she was planning. She had done this several times now, but never actually took it. Would she do it now?


After a couple of minutes, she put the pills back into the bottle dejectedly and placed it back inside the cabinet. The fear dropped, but I worried more for her. She went ahead and drank her cup of water, her hand shaking a bit, almost spilling the fresh, cold liquid.


Conversations with my thirteen year old self


Conversations with my thirteen year old self


I stood up and went over to her, and even though it took her a week, she finally saw me.


She choked on her water, spitting some of it back into her cup. She wiped her mouth, looking at me with surprise. She kept looking at me with that frightened expression.


After a while, she regained her composure and demanded, “Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?”


You're angry
I know this
The world couldn't care less


“What were you doing just now?”


She looked at me with wide eyes. “I didn't—nothing! I—!”


“I know what you were going to do...the real question is why?”


She didn't answer me.


You're lonely
I feel this
And you wish you were the best


She asked again, “Who are you?”


“Are you alone?”


“No, my mom's asleep upstairs—”


“You are alone.” She was silently mad, but I continued.


“How's school in Venado?” I asked and she cringed.


No teachers
Or guidance
And you always walk alone


“It's fine...” She lied. I know how it has been, because she was from a socially malicious and poorly educated neighborhood before. She was judged unfairly by the teachers ;they were not nice to her. They didn't support her enough; they never tried to help her.


They thought of her as a girl with no future; they didn't know that they were adding more problems on her shoulders than she could handle. There was no one she could talk to about it.


I saw the tears pooling in her eyes.


You're crying
At night when
Nobody else is home
I leaned back again the large couch and sat on its frame. I held my hand out towards to the girl and she
looked me with a confused expression.


“Come here,” I told her.


Come over here and let me hold your hand and hug you darling
I promise you that it won't always feel this bad


She looked at me hesitantly as her hand reached out to mine; I took it and pulled her over to me.
My arms embraced her, and I felt her shudder from my touch. I felt a small, droplet of water on my
shoulder.


There are so many things I want to say to you
I pat her head. “Shh... I know what you're going through...”


Immediately she pulled back from me. “How would you know?” She asked me, her eyes glaring at me
as if I could never understand.


“I've been through it...” I told her. “I know it's been hard for you...”


You're the girl I used to be


“I was thirteen just like you...”


You little heartbroken thirteen year old me...


She looked at me strangely, before quickly rubbing the few fallen tears away. She looked at me again,
before she started to laugh at me without a care in the world.


You're laughing
But you're hiding
God I know that trick too well


“Don't force yourself to laugh,” I said.


She scoffed at me, “I'm laughing because this is ridiculous—”


“You're laughing, because you don't want anyone to know.”


She was upset. “Shut up!”


You forget
That I've been you
And now I'm just the shell


I stood up. “You know I'm right! I know how it's been, girl. I know you! I've been through it all! You
made—” I stopped.


You made me this way.


I promise
I love you and
Everything will work out fine


I walked over to her and hugged her again. “Everything will be okay...”


Don't try to
Grow up yet
Oh just give it some time
I felt her shudder again and when she tried to pull back, I held her tighter. “Everything will be
okay...wait and see...”


The pain you feel is real you're not asleep but it's a nightmare
But you can wake up anytime


When she stopped struggling, she started to cry again.


Oh don't lose your passion or the fighter that's inside of you


“You have to keep fighting,” I said to her. “Don't stop. Keep living.”


She held unto me tightly and cried harder than before. “I hate this! I hate my life! I hate my parents fighting! I hate my brothers who won't care enough to see! Who ignores this! I hate living like this!”


I pat her head and rocked her in my arms. I know her pain...


You're the girl I used to be
The pissed off complicated thirteen year old me
“I want my mom and dad to stop fighting...” she said in a whispering, desperate tone. “I want to be
given a chance... I want mom to keep the baby...”


After a while, we sat down around the dinner table...


Conversations with my thirteen year old self
Conversations with my thirteen year old self


For an hour, we talked. She told me all of her problems, and every single thing of it, I knew. I kept telling her that everything would be okay. Life isn't always fair, but it has some of its beauties. It will get better, and that's one of the beauties of life. Keep going, keep living...


It was half past four and I know that her father and the boys would be home at anytime soon.


I got up. “I have to go now...”


“Are you coming back tomorrow?”


“No...”


“Then when?”


“Someday...” I said and she got up to hug me. I hugged her back.


Until we meet again
Oh I wish you well oh
I wish you well
Little girl
Until we meet again


“We'll see each other again though,” I said to her. “It will be a long while, but someday we will...”


“You will come back?”


“Sure, why not?”


Oh
I wish you well
Little girl
I wish you well
Until we meet again


I kissed her forehead and she reluctantly let go. I headed over to the entrance of the house, leaving her
behind. For a moment, I stopped and looked back at her tear stained face. I saw the new, unknown
resolution to live in her eyes and her adamant expression.


I nodded to her. “Good bye...”


My little thirteen year old me...


And I left.




Artist's note: This story is partly true. Inspired by the song “Conversations With My Thirteen Year Old Self” by Pink.


P.S. It did get better...