It's a wash of swirling colors,
of unbearable noises...
A feeling of unfettered panic that crushes me
like a can between two ever-pressing hands
I can't breathe. I can't. I just can't. Can't
Can't
Can't
It's all crushing me. It's all pushing me.
And I'm hiding, but you can still see me.
But you wont even look at me.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Recap...
Considering that I have had two posts concerning something that doesn't have alot of origin on this site, I figured I'd post a little recap.
Our heroine is a business woman who goes home to visit her parents. She walks into the backyard of the house she grew up in and suddenly finds herself transported to somewhere else. She meets up with a denizon of this new world in the form of Jasper, who seems to know more than he lets on, and she is led deeper into this odd world by her new 'friend'. Most of my posts concerning this story line are her adventures with him, and I hope to eventually tighten all this up and slap it into novel form. The beginning portions are on my facebook for now, but i may one day repost them to here. Haven't decided yet.
Our heroine is a business woman who goes home to visit her parents. She walks into the backyard of the house she grew up in and suddenly finds herself transported to somewhere else. She meets up with a denizon of this new world in the form of Jasper, who seems to know more than he lets on, and she is led deeper into this odd world by her new 'friend'. Most of my posts concerning this story line are her adventures with him, and I hope to eventually tighten all this up and slap it into novel form. The beginning portions are on my facebook for now, but i may one day repost them to here. Haven't decided yet.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Vague continuation... fragmented.
The branches tore at her clothes as she pressed fast through the forest, whipped like lashes into her already bruised flesh. She was like a wild thing with the wind, ignored the burning ache building in her calves, her thighs, her lungs. Her heart hammered in time with her steps as she through caution to the wind and plummeted headlong into the night. She could still hear them, somewhere in the distance, a roar of rage that echoed off the tall trees, making her legs pump faster, making her ignore the screaming pain of her body.
She didn't feel the root that tripped her, but she felt the pain of colliding with the leaf covered forest floor. She barely had time to swing her arms up to protect her face. The force of her fall had her sliding through the leafy debris until she collided with the thick trunk of a branching evergreen. Gritting her teeth on a sharp moan she forced herself to lay still, take in deep breaths. Whats the use of having escaped, if you pass out here?
Past the thrumming of her blood in her ears she suddenly realized that escape might have been exactly what she accomplished, for she couldn't hear the roar of the crowd any longer. In fact, the only sounds she could hear outside of her pounding heart was her own gasping, and the faint hum of insects in the night.
With the halt of progress she became painfully aware of her battered and abused body. The lash strokes down her torn tunic, biting into her shoulders and back. The bruises along her arms and legs from rushing through the forest, and her knees and elbows, which were heavily abraded from her fall. She sniveled, once, and quickly buried her face in her hands, wiping away at mucus and sweat that coated her. Oh, god, Jasper. He had to be dead.
He had warned her about speaking up in town, about the odd ways that the people of Thilay viewed women, especially women with red hair of any shade. They were demons, meant to be used only for the amusement of men, and the scorn of 'true' womenfolk. The fact that she was clearly an oustider, a foreigner, was not to be forgiven. He had forbade her from venturing out of their room at the small inn without him, and even then she was to remain covered up.
Her curiousity, so long contained and forced down to succeed in the 'real world', had gotten the better of her. She had watched a parade of children ramble by her window, laughing and playing at old world wooden instruments. They had drawn her out of her safe room, the room that Jasper had left her in while he made 'arrangements' to purchase horses to travel to the next country. It wasn't safe for them in Thilan, he had told her. She less than he... but even he had seemed to have difficulty in even renting a room. Something about his caste had been whispered among the officals that had greeted them upon entering the district.
"We'll allow it," she recalled the man, styled as Mayor, had said. "Only to honor the old pact, you see. And you stick to your room, oft times, and don't be practicing your queer thoughts and imaginings on decent folk."
"Indeed," Jasper had replied, bending nearly double in a bow towards the Mayor. "No queerness or imaginings shall be done, while in your lands. We only wish to move through them."
"See that you do," the man had grumbled, and motioned them to follow his group deeper into the district.
Now she wished that they had braved the wilds to make their way around Thilan, and to hell with what Jasper had warned her of.
Now he was dead and gone because she couldn't listen to him, couldn't do what he said and trust in his knowledge.
How could she have known that children, innocent in laughter and joy, would have been her undoing?
She had left her rooms to speak with them, to hear better their charming wooden flutes and pipes. The girls had curtsied shyly and she had kneeled down to smile at one. The child had looked so much like her sister when they were small. When they would go on adventures together, fearless and full of fun. The wind came up then, and snagged at the back of her hood, tossing it back and lending to the air the site of her red curls. She thought she'd been quick enough to snatch the cloth back into place, until she glanced back into the eyes of the child before her. They were wide and full of terror. The little mouth was stretched into a wide O before the wail breathed past lips thin and white with fear.
It was a child who clubbed her over the head, hard, with an improvised weapon. A lute, that twanged discordantly as it's strings broke. The pain had been dull, barely stunning. The men's fists had been otherwise.
She had been beaten, hard, about the back and hips. Her face had been oddly left free of blemish and bruise, perhaps so she would remain conscious long enough to know what would be done with her. Eventually she was strung up between two poles in the square of town, the coarse rope biting into her wrists hard enough to make her cry out.
The flick hiss of the whip had filled her mind for what seemed an eternity, the cruel sound rivaled only by the roar of cheers echoing back from the assembled townsmen.
She didn't feel the root that tripped her, but she felt the pain of colliding with the leaf covered forest floor. She barely had time to swing her arms up to protect her face. The force of her fall had her sliding through the leafy debris until she collided with the thick trunk of a branching evergreen. Gritting her teeth on a sharp moan she forced herself to lay still, take in deep breaths. Whats the use of having escaped, if you pass out here?
Past the thrumming of her blood in her ears she suddenly realized that escape might have been exactly what she accomplished, for she couldn't hear the roar of the crowd any longer. In fact, the only sounds she could hear outside of her pounding heart was her own gasping, and the faint hum of insects in the night.
With the halt of progress she became painfully aware of her battered and abused body. The lash strokes down her torn tunic, biting into her shoulders and back. The bruises along her arms and legs from rushing through the forest, and her knees and elbows, which were heavily abraded from her fall. She sniveled, once, and quickly buried her face in her hands, wiping away at mucus and sweat that coated her. Oh, god, Jasper. He had to be dead.
He had warned her about speaking up in town, about the odd ways that the people of Thilay viewed women, especially women with red hair of any shade. They were demons, meant to be used only for the amusement of men, and the scorn of 'true' womenfolk. The fact that she was clearly an oustider, a foreigner, was not to be forgiven. He had forbade her from venturing out of their room at the small inn without him, and even then she was to remain covered up.
Her curiousity, so long contained and forced down to succeed in the 'real world', had gotten the better of her. She had watched a parade of children ramble by her window, laughing and playing at old world wooden instruments. They had drawn her out of her safe room, the room that Jasper had left her in while he made 'arrangements' to purchase horses to travel to the next country. It wasn't safe for them in Thilan, he had told her. She less than he... but even he had seemed to have difficulty in even renting a room. Something about his caste had been whispered among the officals that had greeted them upon entering the district.
"We'll allow it," she recalled the man, styled as Mayor, had said. "Only to honor the old pact, you see. And you stick to your room, oft times, and don't be practicing your queer thoughts and imaginings on decent folk."
"Indeed," Jasper had replied, bending nearly double in a bow towards the Mayor. "No queerness or imaginings shall be done, while in your lands. We only wish to move through them."
"See that you do," the man had grumbled, and motioned them to follow his group deeper into the district.
Now she wished that they had braved the wilds to make their way around Thilan, and to hell with what Jasper had warned her of.
Now he was dead and gone because she couldn't listen to him, couldn't do what he said and trust in his knowledge.
How could she have known that children, innocent in laughter and joy, would have been her undoing?
She had left her rooms to speak with them, to hear better their charming wooden flutes and pipes. The girls had curtsied shyly and she had kneeled down to smile at one. The child had looked so much like her sister when they were small. When they would go on adventures together, fearless and full of fun. The wind came up then, and snagged at the back of her hood, tossing it back and lending to the air the site of her red curls. She thought she'd been quick enough to snatch the cloth back into place, until she glanced back into the eyes of the child before her. They were wide and full of terror. The little mouth was stretched into a wide O before the wail breathed past lips thin and white with fear.
It was a child who clubbed her over the head, hard, with an improvised weapon. A lute, that twanged discordantly as it's strings broke. The pain had been dull, barely stunning. The men's fists had been otherwise.
She had been beaten, hard, about the back and hips. Her face had been oddly left free of blemish and bruise, perhaps so she would remain conscious long enough to know what would be done with her. Eventually she was strung up between two poles in the square of town, the coarse rope biting into her wrists hard enough to make her cry out.
The flick hiss of the whip had filled her mind for what seemed an eternity, the cruel sound rivaled only by the roar of cheers echoing back from the assembled townsmen.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Bare minimum idea on Krath origin..
Arms spread wide, she could feel the wind burn past her face as she plummeted. She felt no fear, only freedom, of movement, of thought, of sound and moment. The sound that ripped past her lip burbled with joy, even as it echoed back a raven's caw. Adjusting at the last moment, she caught the current of a thermal, and was abruptly arcing up higher and higher, tucking her talons up under herself so that they barely brushed the tops of the ancient forest trees. She could live this way all day, any day, for the rest of her life. Merely enjoying the bounty of Elune's night sky, and thriving off the bosom of the earth itself.
Abruptly back-winging, she caught her claws on a thick outcropping of rock, a bare shelf that peeked out of a heavy area of trees. Sweeping her wings back in a smooth motion, she seemed to ripple, wings moving, changing, until she was suddenly striking out on all fours, long tail and pointed ears marking her as distinctly feline in nature.
Abruptly back-winging, she caught her claws on a thick outcropping of rock, a bare shelf that peeked out of a heavy area of trees. Sweeping her wings back in a smooth motion, she seemed to ripple, wings moving, changing, until she was suddenly striking out on all fours, long tail and pointed ears marking her as distinctly feline in nature.
Friday, November 20, 2009
story time snippet
She felt like she was falling through night sky, stars streaking past in brilliant hot white. Why doesn't it burn? she wondered. The endless black didn't frighten her; it enervated her, filled her with a sense of anticipation. The realization came: she wasn't so much falling as she was flying, and her arms came out in response, catching the almost ephemeral rush that passed for wind in this place. Ahead was a brightness, infinitely bright white that seemed to burn into an electric blue near the center. She squinted at it, peering through her lashes as she hurtled through the darkness towards the center light. She flung her arms up, instinctively trying to protect her face as she collided with the light.
Panting from imagined exertion, she sat up, the cover of thin blanket tumbling from her front to her lap as she passed hands over her face. Oh, god, she still felt the burn, as if the flesh of her face and arms had been entirely peeled away. She shook as she ran fingertips along her skin, and, by the light of the failing campfire, tried to examine herself for visible evidence of burns. Slowly, her heartbeat ebbed as she calmed, and found no evidence of burn.
Was it just a dream? It seemed so real....
She flopped back down on her bedroll and then turned on to her side, putting her back towards the fire, and stared out at the edge of the lake they had camped near. The moonlight reflected back up from the mirrorlike surface, bright white and blue, and she shivered. It had to have been a dream.
Jasper, standing guard, looked away from her once she reentered sleep and shoved his hands deeper into his coat. A bad dream, he thought. But bad dreams could be much more, here. He would watch, and protect her. As he always had.
Panting from imagined exertion, she sat up, the cover of thin blanket tumbling from her front to her lap as she passed hands over her face. Oh, god, she still felt the burn, as if the flesh of her face and arms had been entirely peeled away. She shook as she ran fingertips along her skin, and, by the light of the failing campfire, tried to examine herself for visible evidence of burns. Slowly, her heartbeat ebbed as she calmed, and found no evidence of burn.
Was it just a dream? It seemed so real....
She flopped back down on her bedroll and then turned on to her side, putting her back towards the fire, and stared out at the edge of the lake they had camped near. The moonlight reflected back up from the mirrorlike surface, bright white and blue, and she shivered. It had to have been a dream.
Jasper, standing guard, looked away from her once she reentered sleep and shoved his hands deeper into his coat. A bad dream, he thought. But bad dreams could be much more, here. He would watch, and protect her. As he always had.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
So what is it
It's either a will ya, or a wont ya
a do ya, or a don't ya.
It has to be all or nothing
It can't be just a 'somethin'
A symbol, a figurehead
You can't have it both ways
Make a decision.
a do ya, or a don't ya.
It has to be all or nothing
It can't be just a 'somethin'
A symbol, a figurehead
You can't have it both ways
Make a decision.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Its kind of like a stream...
Conscious thought that drifts, drip dripping
wet like rain, yet solid, oh so solid like ice
and it slams into you, much like the fist of the bully from school
striking over and over, for no reason other than to dominate,
and yet it propels you forward, until you're soaring with thought,
and oh so eager to begin and express and realize
just what you've always wanted to realize
just what you've always desired to create, and believe
and destroy.
wet like rain, yet solid, oh so solid like ice
and it slams into you, much like the fist of the bully from school
striking over and over, for no reason other than to dominate,
and yet it propels you forward, until you're soaring with thought,
and oh so eager to begin and express and realize
just what you've always wanted to realize
just what you've always desired to create, and believe
and destroy.
the very first...
so this is my very first post on this here blog. yee haw? Eww.
So basically I'm going to be using this, hopefully, as a source of release for my writing. This will take the form of poems, short stories, novellas, and one liners. Hopefully I will be able to keep up with using this :). Some snippets about real life might slip in, but I'm going to try my hardest to keep this site pure.
So basically I'm going to be using this, hopefully, as a source of release for my writing. This will take the form of poems, short stories, novellas, and one liners. Hopefully I will be able to keep up with using this :). Some snippets about real life might slip in, but I'm going to try my hardest to keep this site pure.
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