06 December 2010

Eyes: Green (Part I)

Title: Eyes: Green (Part I)
Author: SilverInk
Writing: Short Story Excerpt
Word Count: 2396



I have gray eyes. Green eyes. Brown eyes. Gray sees the surface world, green sees the secrets underneath this world. And brown? Brown sees past this world, into another reality.
Brushing a dust-web aside, I peered down the next tunnel. Again all I saw was darkness. "This looks like the only way forward," I said, turning around in the small dead-end hallway. "Gillian?"
My brother's girlfriend appeared next to me quietly and lifted her hands before her. She pulled the darkness from the tunnel, and a very dim, sourceless light emitted throughout. It was long, dry, and lined with stone and brick, but I could hear water tricking faintly in the distance. My brother still stared at the dead end,  raising the lantern to search for inscriptions on the wall. Finding none, he turned to the right wall, and finally to us, standing against the left wall. "Nothing," he replied and peered down the tunnel I'd found. "Guess we're going this way then. I'll go first again. Gillian, you next."
We nodded and I looked at the walls in the dead end again. I was certain there was something here, even with the tunnel. "Violet?" Gillian asked, already crawling through the path. "Are you coming?"
"One moment. Go on. I'll be right there," I replied, stepping in front of the other two walls. I closed my eyes and concentrated for a moment before opening them again. To the onlooker, it would seem I had just changed my eye color from it's usual dark gray to   green. But that was not all I had changed.  The dead-end hall was still a dead-end chamber, but it was a faint monotone. And the mark-less brick walls were glowing with inscriptions on them. "Utah? There's some writing here you might want to see."
There was a grumble and a plentiful amount of grumbling from him before Gillian came out again, stepping to the ground. She handed me a pad of paper and a pen and I copied the glyphs on the wall down, making sure to get every mark right before handing it to him. I blinked again, feeling my eyes strain, and instantly they returned to gray and my headache eased. 
Utah handed Gillian the lamp and she held it over the pad while he thought, moving his finger around as if he was drawing the glyphs. "To the adventurer awaits a challenge. To the pathfinder awaits a road." he said, translating the first two lines of text. "Through the pipe to victory ahead.  Find the victim that was stowed."" he finished, lowering the pad. He took the lantern back and gave Gillian back the pad. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I thought about the message for a while and finally said, "Well, Gillian's a pathfinder." She shrugged; she did enjoy exploring, but did not see herself exactly as one of the skilled pathfinders. "I suppose you're the adventurer then," I continued to my brother. "You're the one that wanted to come down here anyways." He gave me a shrug as well. 
"Well that was pointless," he finally said, looking at the walls. 
"We did get a caveat though," Gillian said softly, preparing to crawl back through the tunnel again. "And warnings are always helpful. "
"It doesn't exactly tell us anything new," he muttered, following her. I looked around again and crawled after him. 
It wasn't hard crawling though the "pipe"; I didn't know what Utah was grumbling about. It got a little uncomfortable when we neared the end, for there were puddles of water every few paces, but that was at most an annoyance. 
We reached the end and found ourselves in a wide open room with a large circular pool in the center. A massive orb-statue on a pedestal in the center of the pool, and water poured out of of small holes in the pedestal's base, supplying the green pool. From two more little holes water seeped into the pedestal. Each hole was secured so that no one could use the hole as a way to crack the statue. I stepped forward towards it, following Gillian and Utah. They stopped where the sea-green water lapped on the black tile floor and stared around them. 
"Violet, what do you see?" Gillian asked quietly. 
The chamber was huge, black and green, and smelled strange. It was damp, and empty but for the statue. Light was emitted from a ring on the top of the pedestal, which threw long shadows on our figures. The walls were smooth stone, and even when I switched to my green-eyed vision I could see nothing on them. The corners of my vision glowed with green light, but that was usual and I ignored it, scanning the room. I looked at everything, searching for a discrepancy between visions. Aside from vertical black stripes down the orb- part of the statue and amorphous red streaks in the water, I discovered nothing. I shook my head, reverting my vision to usual.
Gillian was looking at the pad again and muttered the poem quietly: "To the adventurer awaits a challenge." 
My brother set the lantern down and unsheathed his sword, stepping gingerly into the water and walking towards the statue.
"To the pathfinder awaits a road." Gillian began walking around the pool, scrutinizing the smooth surface of the statue, undecorated but for a few rings. She looked down every so often, reading the the lines of the poem. Her voice echoed in the room a little, creating an unsettling effect.
"Through the pipe to victory ahead."
I peered back the way we had come and saw nothing changed. Turning back to the chamber we were in I switched my vision again to green and peered closely at the pedestal. I peered closer at the water and saw the brick road that Utah had been walking on; the path stretched from where I was to the pedestal and formed a small ring around the base. Off the road I could see glimmers of brick every so often and gaps in other, though I couldn't tell if that was a defect of my vision or an honest gap of path there.
"Find the victim that was stowed." 
Utah had reached the pedestal now and was walking around it, sticking close to the base and glaring at it. The water reached his ankles, but he was wearing tall boots and didn't notice it at all. I took a few steps on the path and once I was sure where it was, returned my vision to normal to avoid draining too much energy.
"Nothing," he finally said, returning to the main path. 
It was a wide road but he still stepped aside. "Completely smooth." 
"Be careful," I warned. "I think there may be a gap of path just beyond the pedestal base."
He nodded, sloshing water as he made his way back to the lantern. He suddenly slipped and flailed for balance, using his legs to keep him afloat. Gillian's shriek echoed loudly around the room and it looked like she was about to chase after him until I caught his hand. With his free hand he tossed his sword onto the path, where it lay, barely visible under the water. "Don't run through the water, he warned Gillian when she stepped into it. "Go around. Go to where I started." She did as he said and reached me quickly. Together we hefted him out of the water.
Dripping wet, he picked up his sword and tried to dry it by wiping his clothes only to see that his clothes were more drenched. "There're holes in the pool," he confirmed and I nodded, understanding the gaps now. He looked at me expectantly and I clarified: 
"It seemed there is a wide path here, leading from"--I pointed to where the lantern still sat--"there to here. There's a small gap of path beyond the path, and then the path resumes for another strip. Beyond that I am not sure where there is path. And then there is the tile floor.”
GIllian nodded, holding on to Utah worriedly. I walked closer to the pedestal and touched it smooth surface, walking around as my brother had. I ran my fingers lightly across it and switched my vision again “What are you?” I murmured quietly. Up close I saw small, a few light rings that passed around the pedestal; each of them glowed faintly, so faintly I would have missed it if I were not so close. “Why are you here?” 
I returned to the front of the pedestal and pressed my hand against it, staring at it as if it would suddenly say something. “Where is Saria Lithe?” I muttered quietly. Then suddenly, next to my hand a single word gleamed into existence. Each letter was perfectly made mark of calligraphy and the word emitted a faint glow in my vision. 
Dead.
I lifted my hand from the statue in shock and the word vanished immediately, fading into the rock. Hurriedly, I reverted my vision and pressed my hand against the rock again. “Where is Saria Lithe?” I repeated, clearly.
Dead. 
The word reappeared, etched in the stone, and faded slowly away until I took my hand from it. 
“Who’s Saria Lithe?”
“Sapphire’s mother,” I replied quickly. “Sapphire said that she was looking into her. Come over here.” 
“How is it her mother’s surname is Lithe, her father’s is Lyne and her’s is Lilliane?” Utah wondered aloud, crossing over to me. I ignored the comment and pressed my palm against the stone again. “Where is Saria Lithe?”
Dead! 
It looked like the pedestal was annoyed by my asking the same question over and over and I retracted my hand once I was sure Gillian and Utah had seen the carving. 
“Looks like we’re finally getting somewhere,” my brother said. He stepped forward and pushed his hand against the cold stone. “Where is Sapphire Lilliane?”
For a moment there was no response and finally the carving said:
Nonexistent.
“Nonexistent?” Gillian asked, turning to me suspiciously. Utah was about to drop his hand when the word faded and another line of text came up. 
Alias.
This too faded and Utah removed his hand and turned towards us. “Violet,” he said firmly. “What else did she tell you?”
“Why are you running?”
She hung her head. She had started growing her hair out and hadn’t cut it for almost a year; it pooled by her shoulders, but more importantly covered her face. Especially the eyes.
Kyson manor was on the outskirts of Aldenzeve, Gillian’s, Utah’s and my hometown. My brother and I were just within the range of the shield that separated us from the humans, but far enough to avoid the hub-bub of the city, as Gillian had to deal with on a daily basis because he uncle owned an inn. Sapphire Lilliane had come to Aldenzeve praying shelter, and when the city itself was hesitant, my parents opened up Kyson manor for her. And over a few months, she had become my friend, of sorts. 
Then came that group, led by the boy, Syne Darrett. There had been a great clash and destruction when they had come, although it was well known that they were not the cause. And then Sapphire had vanished. 
“I can trust you right?”
“Of course.” I tensed, expecting a revelation of great importance.
She was quiet for a moment before pulling her hair back and saying, “I’m running from a boy. I love him—at least, I think I used to love him—but I can’t be near him.”
“Why? Does he…cause you pain?”
“Not me. But the rest of the world. I’ve separated myself so I can pursue Red Shadow on my own. No one here knows the Nekaitian dictator as well as I did, and I’m sure I can bring him down.”
“What do you mean the rest of the world?”
“It’s very complicated, Violet. But I realized that the world was bigger than the two of us—that our little curse was bigger than just the two of us.”
“I’m lost.”
“Not yet,” she murmured quietly before saying more clearly, “Violet, all I know is ever since I met that boy, something has been growing. By distancing us I hope I have stopped that creature’s growth, but I need to destroy that thing before it destroys us.”
“How?”
She shook her head and her hair fell over her eyes again. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “She—she said she was running. From Syne, I suppose, but I don’t know why.”
“Could she be the victim that was stowed?” Gillian asked, staring at the pad of paper.
“She could, couldn’t she?” Utah asked, glancing at it. “What’s our mission? Our mission was to find her. Sapphire Lilliane. ‘Through the pipe to victory ahead.’ So we’re going to succeed, the message is telling us. But…how?”
I shut my eyes and leaned against the pedestal, my head swimming from memories and words and the riddle on the wall. I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead and my other hand against the stone for support. “I don’t know,” I repeated.
Suddenly the path underneath me moved and the narrow path joined the outer ring. The main path retreated, shaking the ground until the lantern lost balance and fell over; it would have fallen into the water if it weren’t for the rectangular frame around the light. Gillian leapt away from the path and Utah caught her as they balanced on the narrow strip of path. Once it merged with the outer ring they stepped onto it quickly, concerned about any other attacks. The pedestal of the statue lowered but the orb remained where it was, floating in the air. It made no motion, even as the pedestal sank into the pool, leaving nothing but the glowing ring above the surface. All was silent.
“Violet…what did you do!” my brother exclaimed, half-angry, half exhilarated, and half just confused. He brandished his sword around him, holding on to Gillian with one arm. I reached into my sleeves and touched the twin pink fans I had secured there, glancing around me worriedly.
From the ring came a splash as something sprung from its depths.

Artist's Note: HI PEople! Super late update, but at least there is one, yeah? 
This is party one of a short story that I'm writing based on the first prompt in Writing Magic by Gail Carson Levine. 
Please show this site some love and comment! :D All opinions appreciated! Thank you!
~SilverInk

28 November 2010

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?

21 November 2010

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!

13 November 2010

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!







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...