08 November 2010

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?

01 November 2010

"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...

27 October 2010

Good Coffee

Title: Good Coffee
Author: Lewis
Writing: Short story
Word Count: 512

The first thing about good coffee is that it has to be good. Okay, so she doesn't have much experience with it. The only coffee she's had is the powdered stuff they sell at the local grocery store for a 50% discount, and even that, according to the Java Jive club, is crap. What about that stuff they sell at the fast food place? Tsk, tsk. It isn't her fault that she's naive and deprived.
Who is she kidding? It's a total bother! She can't believe that they're doing this, intruding into her private coffee business. It's not as if she'll ask her crush out to instant coffee. When the time calls, it'll be green tea bags. No mistake about it.

It, well. It might have been said that he only likes coffee. He's always seen in the morning with a cup or two of coffee clutched in his hands, looking somewhat worse for wear. And, maybe, he might have been seen ranting about the wonders of the coffee bean and the history of coffee. He's also probably said to hate green tea.

So she's asked the Java club for help. They're not all too famous, but she's heard that they're coffee experts. If she can just get them to slip and tell her the secret to making good coffee, her plans will be set.

"Go forth, child," says Java club president Latte, shoving a coffee filter into her hand. "and buy the items on this shopping list."

"Come again?" She's not believing this. "I thought-"

"What? You asked us how to make coffee."

Mumbling, she stares at her toes. "I just thought that you maybe would just tell me how to make it?"

"Miss, the coffee-making is an art. We can't allow amateurs to deface coffee with their poor skills. So of course, we have to guide you through all the steps."

"Oh. Well. That's kind of you."

"You're welcome. Now, for the ingredients."

She's totally planning to avoid them at all costs after this. Who knows what kind of horrors she'll be subjected to if she sticks with them? Besides, all she wants is to get a good cup of coffee for him.


The next day, after running a maddening raid on the local grocery stores, she shows up in the club room with the supplies in hand. There's not one, but two people there, and for a moment she gapes at the uninvited guest with a reddening face.

The club-president-whose-coffee-related-name-she-doesn't-care-to-remember adjusts his glasses peevishly at her reaction and crosses his arms. "I thought I'd ask another one of the club members to instruct you today. He's one of our most dedicated, and will be perfect for the job. You two are in the same year, so you might know each other."

"We do." she says shortly. "Kind of. Um."

"Isn't that wonderful? Now, I'll leave you two to your devices." Sir-club-president claps him in the back. "Good luck."

The classroom door slides shut behind him. Oh, bother. Oh god. Why did he have to leave? Of all the people in the world he had to ask, did it have to be that one?

----------------
I know nothing about the making of coffee, which is why I didn't elaborate much. Java Jive is this ... (I don't know the genre) small group song where they sing "I like coffee, I like tea. I love the java jive and it loves me! Coffee and-" ...yea. I have weird song choices sometimes.
I've been thinking about coffee a lot LOL Mostly because I don't know much about coffee, but I see it as ...a really nice comfort drink like hot chocolate. I don't get to drink it a lot- if I could, I probably would.

This was written in 25 minutes on Write or Die.

24 October 2010

Latte

Title: Latte
Author: Lewis
Writing: Speed experiment
Words: 306

Gretchen stared into her cup. She still wasn't quite sure what he and that girl were doing in the next booth over, but knowing his personality, he'd probably be trying to chat up his new date for the night. Her teeth gritted as she thought of him staring soulfully into the other girl's eyes, him taking her hand and speaking with a voice soft as swan down, him pulling the other girl close and telling her I love you. Just like he'd done for Gretchen. In a moment of resolution she set the coffee mug down onto the table and peered out into the hall. Seeing it clear and empty, she sidled to the closed door of the next booth and pressed her ear to the fogged glass.
"You're wrong," she heard the girl say fearfully. "He'd never do anything like that."
"I know him. He will, and nothing you do will change his mind."
"He's better than that"
"Just forget about him. I'm here for you, aren't I?"
"You-"
At that moment Gretchen grasped the doorknob with a shaking hand and swung it open. "What the hell are you doing in there?" and froze.
He had moved to sit next to the girl, with his arm around her shoulder and with his head bent toward her. The girl's face was tear-stricken, and it was likely that Gretchen had interrupted a very important conversation. His face darkened into a scowl. "What are you doing here? Get out."
Embarrassed, the other girl abruptly pulled away from him and struggled to get out of her seat. "It's quite all right. I'll just... see you around." Bowing jerkily at Gretchen, the girl timidly sidestepped around her to make for the door and leave.
"What did you do that for? I nearly had her."
"And let another member of the female race suffer with you? Not a chance."

-----------------
written in 10 minutes without planning.
Yay for obscurity!
and, I didn't really mean to write a backstory for Gretchen. It doesn't match what I had in mind for her, and... yea. so if it bothers you, substitute any random name in there.

22 October 2010

EtHR related: Sister

Title: Sister, how Yia, Hisho, and Kaori get in the Ferrezin backstory
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Background brief
Word Count: 1092



"I don't have a sister. Leave me alone."
"Hisho! How could you say that? Yia all but died for you! What's--"
"She's an Object, Kaori! Now leave me alone! I can do what I want!" The door to the small shack slammed, leaving Kaori outside, fuming.
Kaori's temper was no small thing to reckon with, but Hisho Nishanka knew he was an exception. No one could escape her wrath, but he was the master of the illusionist. He could decide who to punish and who to reward. The entire of Kaori was in his hands. 
Hisho stared at the small shack his sister had built when their parents had been killed. How, he wondered, Yia of all people failed her Assignment of Destiny, was a wonder. If he was completely honest with himself, she embodied all that was praiseworthy. Yet she had been condemned. And Kaori, who was cold-hearted and cruel had passed. 
But this reflecting got no one anywhere and Hisho shook his head, washed his hands at the handmade sink, tossed his backpack on the handwoven chair, and flopped on the handmade bed. Kaori would come over with dinner later, he hoped. He did not want to cook himself.
<<~~---~~>>


Upon arriving at her house, Kaori greeted her parents respectfully and then proceeded upstairs to her loft. She locked the door as usual, and finished her homework in the dark room. Within an hour of diligent work, she had completed her work and her studying. 
"Mother, should I cook dinner?" Her mother nodded lazily and continued browsing the television. Kaori accepted this without comment and went to make dinner for the three-person family.
<<~~---~~>>

Homework lying abandoned in his backpack still, Hisho searched through the sparse closet for clothes that would suit him. He would be leaving all this behind when he went to the Ferrezin Tournament, but he wanted to see what he might take with him anyways. His weapon, a rather feeble metal bat was propped next to the bag he had bought specifically to bring. Hisho had thought his plan through carefully: If he lost in the Tournament, he wouldn't be alive to spend any of his money anyways; if he survived and won, he would be rich beyond measure and the small coin he had now would be useless. He supposed he might as well buy a new bat and armor but that could wait for a while. After all, he didn't leave for another week.
He turned at the sound of a knock on the door and stood to open it. He supposed he could have just opened it with his magic, as Yia always did--Yia did everything with magic, it seemed--but Hisho quite frankly didn't see the purpose. That, and magic didn't come quite as easily to him. That was what he told himself at least. But truthfully, it was that he simply didn't care enough for it to work at it. 
"I made spaghetti for you," Kaori said, stepping inside. She set her dinner--now Hisho's--on the rickety table Yia had pieced together with help from a few temple folk. "Your favorite."
"Thanks," Hisho said and dove right in, thinking Kaori had already eaten--that's what she always told him anyways. 
"In any case, Hisho. I want to talk about your decision to join the Ferrezin."
"Not again, seriously?"
"Yia instructed me to take care of you. And by that definition I think sending you off to a dangerous fight thing is not at all good care."
"Well, leave it alone. It's been what, four, five years since she left?"
"...Yia undertook the Ritual of Holena three years ago, when we were 17 and you were 10."
"You're so serious about it."
"She was a good person."
"You mean, she believed your sob stories."
"No." Kaori's fist was balled up under the table in anger and frustration. Her stomach growled hungrily but she hid it under an illusion of sound. "No. I say she was a good person because she was selfless. Don't deny it!" she snapped at Hisho's rolling eyes. "She stayed up the night before her Assignment to take care of you because you were sick! And during her grace period, she did nothing but patch up the shack for you and sew you new clothes and make sure everything was stocked! How you could dare disregard everything she did is an amazement to me!"
"Yea yea. Yia was this, Yia was that. You don't listen to what the others say, do you? It's not like she was smart or good at anything really. She did her duty as a sister and that's it. You give her too much credit."
"Her duty as a sister was to see that you lived to the age of nine, Hisho! I've read the wills! She overdid herself. She was not a perfect student because she was always helping you with YOUR homework and studies. She never got the time to pursue her own interests because she was always working--running the mill, doing odd jobs--for you! Food, clothes, everything! You're an idiot!"
Kaori had stood up and was now pacing agitatedly. She sat back down in a huff and stared at the boy she had been asked to watch. "She should have left you to die. I should have left you to die. But neither of us did. And now you want to throw yourself into the most violent competition of all time?"
Hisho thought for a moment, looking down at his food. He let out a sniffle. "I-I- You know how Yia failed her Assignment... I'm already 13 too. Every moment I stay here is a chance for me to get my own Assignment...and I'm afraid I'll fail. But if I survive the Ferrezin, I'm granted immunity from the Ritual."
Kaori softened a little and sighed. "It won't be that bad. The Assignment should be do-able. It's nowhere near as hard as surviving the Ferrezin in any case. And you don't know that you get immunity. Just because Objects are granted amnesty doesn't mean you're granted immunity if you've never been an Object."
Hisho was silent. He looked up and though his eyes were dry, he had stuck his lip out in petulance and watched Kaori with wide, mournful eyes. 
"That doesn't work on me." Kaori crossed her arms. 
"You can't stop me anyways," Hisho said finally, dropping the act and continuing eating.
Kaori growled and stood up. She marched out the door in a huff. Outside, Hisho heard her say resolutely, "I'm telling Yia."


Artist's Note: For reference, this is about five years after "My Dark Haven," :) No, Kaori isn't supposed to be that nice.


So, another installment of EtHR related stuff! I haven't gotten around to painting Kaori's picture and posting it, but I'm almost done! >.<. I actually have a few preliminary sketches of Yia and Hisho as well, so I'll post them here when and if I actually get around to scanning, cropping, and fixing them a bit >.<


I'll try to finish Tsiyone's background story asap! >.<


Um.... there should definitely be a post next week... :/ I need to work on my college essays! >..,


Hope you enjoyed; please comment! 
~SilverInk


P.S. Sorry I changed the background again! >.< It was too emo for me >.< I'm "bipolar" o.O Or, as Mr. Jacobs (former Varsity Biology teacher) put, in comment of my love of scrawling "dipole- dipole FTW" and my volatile nature: "Dipolar"

15 October 2010

EtHR related: My Dark Haven, Kaori Koga Backstory

Title: My Dark Haven, Kaori Koga Backstory
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Background brief
Word Count: 1577.

"My mom and dad fight at home. He cuts her sometimes. And then she gets mad and sends him flying across the room."

"Miss Koga, please stop telling lies about your parents. I cannot for the life of me imagine them disagreeing on anything, much less fighting. Now, does anyone have a true story to share with the class?"

"But Ms Eviteen, they do fight. And then they get mad at me when when I try to stop them. I'm not lying. I have bruises to prove it."

"That will be enough Miss Koga, see me after the meeting."

Ms Eviteen ended the meeting there and for the rest of the period the kids sat around and played cards. They were all there because they thought they could use peer discussion about their personal or social issues.

When Ms Eviteen wasn't looking, she said again, "My parents really do fight though. I just need help. I'd like somewhere to go, where I won't have to deal with my parents beating each other up and yelling at me for no reason."

"Listen," one of the card players said, folding his hand. "It isn't anywhere near Avril, so don't be pulling jokes on us, ok?"

"Technically," another said, adjusting his glasses, "It doesn't need to be the Month of Comedy for someone to be funny. I mean, "The Aidapak" is a year-long show. I raise ten."

"Well, fine. And anyways Kaori? I live right next  to you. I never hear them shouting. I never hear anyone from your house shouting."

Kaori shook her head, sending the brown-black mass that was only tied up by a few red ribbons flying into a mess. "The walls are soundproof, don't you know?"

The person with the glasses smiled, delighted he had won the round. Putting the cards away, he said, "Yes, but it doesn't seem very like either of them to quarrel with anyone or anything. And I'm sure your parents would never hurt each other. They're always very cordial and sweet."

"In public," Kaori protested, but the hour had ended and the occupants began leaving the classroom to enjoy the rest of the weekend. Kaori sighed in defeat and retied her hair more securely.

"Miss Koga, you are very convinced that your parents are violent at home."

"Yes, Ms Eviteen."

"I have sent word to your father asking to join your family for dinner. I do not think what you say is true, but if you are so insistent, then I would not mind spending a night in investigation."

"Thank you Ms Eviteen!" Kaori said. The counselor only nodded and waved her out the door. "I'll see you at dinner!"
---

"KAORI KOGA. You dare to shame your name and complain to outsiders about a family issue?"

"But mother--!"

Kaori ducked as the couch hurtled towards her. It landed a few feet away, caught between the stair rail that led up to the one-room loft and the other wall. Kaori flung out her hands and concentrated on a mental picture of her as a baby. Her mother was caught aback for but a moment though and soon a lamp shot itself at Kaori, shattering and scratching her arms and cheek. Kaori yelped and staggered backwards and was saved by the sound of the doorbell. "Go change," her mother ordered, sending the lamp shards into the trash receptacle and the couch back to its original place with a few swipes of her hand. She looked into the mirror by the door, smiled pleasantly, and opened the door, "Ms Eviteen, how kind of you to join us. Dinner is almost ready. Please, do come in." Mr. Koga appeared from his workroom and shook Ms Eviteen's hand amicably. "Yes, please. Would you care for some drink?"

Seeing Kaori still standing defiantly on the stairs, her father stepped out of view of the door and under the guise of fetching a cup, sent a few magical bolts at his daughter. Kaori jumped and the bolts only tore her dress, slightly and silently. Kaori slipped upstairs before anything else happened to her.

"Forgive me," she said, entering the dining room, where the adults were already eating. "I overslept," she lied, seeing the expressions her parents were throwing her over Ms Eviteen's head. She had not decently covered the cut on her cheeck and Ms. Eviteen noted this.

"She tripped and broke the lamp," Mrs. Koga explained politely, offering to treat the wound as she poured some soup for Kaori. "Are you sure you don't want me to look at it dear? You're sure you feel fine?"

Kaori suppressed a grimace and nodded stiffly. "Yes mother, it is perfectly fine. Although you are quite wrong about the detail. The lamp flew at me and was intentionally shattered."

Her mother put on a confused expression and Mr. Koga stepped in. "It is all my fault really," he said, setting the spoon down. "I accidentally left lamp in a bad location and when she came home, she accidentally triggered the catapult I was building, sending the badly-placed lamp at her. But enough of this. I apologize--to everyone--for my negligence. Kaori, could I make it up to you by offering you your favorite dessert tonight? Ms. Eviteen, I hope you do not mind strawberry shortcake."

"But I hat--" Kaori started but capitulated at the dagger-like look she saw on both her parent's faces. "Thank you father."

Dinner proceeded quietly for Kaori, though the adults chatted amiably on quite a range of topics. Not once did her Mr. or Mrs. Koga say a cross word or indicate any sign of disapproval with each other, their daughter or their guest.

Ms. Eviteen stayed for a few hours after dinner to continue her examination and was then offered a tour of the house by Mr. Koga, who apologized profusely for neglecting to do so until so late. With the eye of a teacher, Ms Eviteen examined the furnishings. The one-story house was very neatly decorated, with nothing that so much hinted as to damage or wear. Since both Mr. and Mrs. Koga did not rely on weaponry in their careers, there were not even the most basic weapons lying around. The kitchen knives were securely contained and showed no signs of being thrown or used as anything but a tool for chopping vegetables. Up rickety stairs in Kaori's bedroom loft was the only sign of disturbance:

Kaori's room was not messy--no, it was clean and orderly--but the color scheme was quite disturbing. The entire of the room was painted black, with a few stripes of a creamy pink here and there, showing where the black desk, the black bed, the black-framed mirror, the black closet, the black door to the black bathroom. The light from the room came from five pink lamps. Bottles of sand, both colored and not colored and corkboard-size sand-painting canvases were tucked in a corner but loomed dangerously in the room.  Kaori's main weapon, a dagger the length of her forearm, was resting conspicuously on her dresser.
---

"Kaori, don't be upset, but I think it isn't your parent's fault that you are feeling these emotions. I think your powers are occasionally slipping from your grasp, causing you to see things that aren't real. Illusion imposition is a difficult skill and power to master, so do not be deterred. I'm sure you will one day master it perfectly well."
---

Kaori Koga, fifteen, pinned her hair up neatly in two curled loops. She combed her bangs to the now-normal cute style and the two long strands at either side so that they would not bother her vision. Finally, she set a scarlet ribbon in her hair, a strikingly elegant look. Her dress was pretty, but also somewhat practical and her dagger was strung inconspicuously on the inside of the coat. She washed off any traces of blood, bandaged the cuts she could and arranged her dress so it would cover the scars. The ones on her face she cleaned quickly but throughly and then expertly applied makeup around the area to conceal it as much as possible. Only then did she dare leave the comfort of her black room.

"Good morning, Miss Koga," her teachers greeted. "Good morning," she replied.

"Such a nice little girl now," her teachers commented. "that Ms Eviteen sure knows her stuff. Why only last Fril Arg she was freaking out and telling foolish stories about her parents. And now--a mere week and a half later--it seems she has drastically improved her life. How fortunate."

The students seemed to think the same. "Hey, Kaori. I was wondering--would you go to the dance with me?"

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"We broke up."

"Oh." Kaori smiled pleasantly and locked her scarlet-hazel eyes on the boy's. Subtly, Kaori moved her hand. There was no indication that anything unusual was happening; the first sign came from the boy, who staggered backwards and howled silently

"Why'd you show me that?!" he demanded, shaking his head to keep the images that plagued him.

 Kaori laughed as if he had said a joke and then continued her way for a few steps.  Her polite little smile turned upwards in a knowing smirk and she turned back to the poor boy. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

Curses returned her words. Kaori set a comforting hand on her new victim and a channeled more images to the person, some true, some imagined, all haunting. She leaned towards him and whispered, "I know what you fear. But be comforted. Reality exists within the mind, and I have your secret locked up in my dark haven."

Artist's Note: I wrote this in 88 minutes, as a part of a quickwrite. 


The main character is one of the minor characters in my to-be NaNoWriMo 2010 project, "Edge: the Heart Reincarnation". Hopefully everything makes sense?
(Yes, I know book titles are supposed to be underlined or italicized. But since it's still in plan-form right now, I think quotation marks will do XP)


Please rate! On a scale of 1-5, how soon in the story should she die? (6 if she should not be killed at all). For any reason you'd like; for example, Lewis said one of my mean characters should not die just because it would be so ironic if the mean one lived. :)


~SilverInk


P.S. I was going to post the second and probably final (really because I just don't feel like writing it much longer) part of Tsiyone's character background, but obviously didn't XD Maybe next week?
P.P.S I have a few drawings of her! I'll submit it once I'm done scanning and editing them :) So check back on this post sometime later on! :) :)