Here's my last post of the year. It's fun to see the high and low of my reading/buying. April is so low because that's when I had the play, and August is so high because it's at that point in the summer when there's really nothing to do.
I wish you all a very Happy New Year!
January: 9 Read, 0 Bought
February: 11 Read, 15 Bought
March: 16 Read, 25 Bought
April: 4 Read, 0 Bought
May: 16 Read, 9 Bought
June: 8 Read, 9 Bought
July: 17 Read, 9 Bought
August: 33 Read, 13 Bought
September: 9 Read, 27 Bought
October: 13 Read, 9 Bought
November: 8 Read, 7 Bought
December: 24 Read, 21 Bought
Total Read: 168
Total Bought: 144
Monday, December 31, 2012
Books: December
Books Read:
-Sad Cypress
-Three
-BoneMan's Daughters
-Nevermore
-The Son of Neptune
-And then there were none
-Hood
-Nemesis
-The Legend of the Emerald Lady
-The Secret of the Stars
-The Unexpected Guest
-4.50 from Paddington
-Dreamdark: Blackbringer
-Fell
-The Bad Beginning
-The Wide Window
-The Miserable Mill
-The Austere Academy
-The Ersatz Elevator
-The Vile Village
-The Hostile Hospital
-The Mystery of Cabin Island
-The Secret of the Caves
-Hot under the Collar
Total: 24
Books Bought/Received:
-Dreamdark: Blackbringer
-The Legend of the Emerald Lady
-The Secret of the Stars
-And then there were none
-The Giver
-The Princess Bride
-The Final Warning
-The Secret of the Caves
-The Mystery of Cabin Island
--The Bad Beginning
-The Wide Window
-The Miserable Mill
-The Austere Academy
-The Ersatz Elevator
-The Vile Village
-The Hostile Hospital
-Villette
-The Moonstone
-Out of Canaan
-The Judas Tree
-Edgar Allen Poe Complete Works and Poems
Total: 21
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Character Drawing-Kalani
Here's a drawing of a character from a story I'm currently working on. Her name is Kalani :)
Supper Time-The Distressing Ordeal
Sometimes, I think adults forget how truly difficult life is when you're only five years old. Oh, sure, it's all fun and games, that is, until it's supper time...then begins the distressing ordeal.
* * * * *
I always ran to the table when it was supper time, so that I could eat and go back to my play time. About two minutes in, it already became apparent that while I could eat as quickly as a ravenous wolf, the rest of my family had become a herd of turtles, intent on eating as slowly as possible. After looking up from the remains of my meal, it was painfully obvious that play time would just have to wait.
The adults really enjoyed their talking while they ate, but as a five year old, all I could think about was the toys that were calling out to me. They were begging, pleading that I return to them as quickly as possible. How could they understand that I was chained to my chair by the "we don't get up until everyone is done eating" rule? Would they think that I had abandoned them? The more these dreadful thoughts filled my mind, the more I wriggled in my chair, mentally urging my family to eat faster.
Finally, my family was nearly done and I was ready to bolt from my chair. However, my mother finally looked at my plate and said, "Oh, you haven't touched your bean-spinach puree. You have to finish that before you can get up."
Utter despair filled my heart. Tears began to well up in my eyes. "Mom, I'm too full."
She smiled and I felt hopeful. But then she said, "Well then, you can sit here until you're hungry again."
I started to panic, seeing that everyone was going to get up soon. Glancing at the loathsome green mush, I wished that it would just grow legs and walk back to whatever vile place it had come from. This was just so unfair. I hadn't asked for this puree, so why should it keep me from my valuable play time?
Desperately, I began to come up with ways of getting rid of the dreadful substance. I poked at it with my spoon, spreading it around the plate so that it looked eaten. Then I managed to "accidently" drop some on the floor. I put some in my mouth and then asked to go to the washroom, where I disposed of it in the toilet. Still, when I came back, there was a noticeable amount left on my plate and I had run out of ways to get rid of it.
Everyone else was done and had started to leave the table, off to better things. I watched my older cousins leave to go play, and a longing pulled at my heart. They simply couldn't understand the torment I was going through.
My mother began to clear the table and I started to plead with her. "Mom, I can't eat this. I'm allergic."
She shook her head. "You're not."
I tried a different tactic. "Well, it's not cooked enough. So I can't eat it."
Looking at the puree, she sighed and said, "Yes, it is. Now hurry up and eat it so you can go play."
She was about to leave and I knew that I had to take drastic measures. "Mom, if you let me not eat this, then I'll clean my room, I promise."
My last hope left the room, not even dignifying my bribery attempt with an answer. I was lost.
At this point, I wasn't poor five year old girl anymore, no, I was a captive princess who was an orphan and was being tortured in a dark dungeon by evil trolls who liked to make food out of snail vomit. They were forcing me to eat it because they knew it would make me fatally ill and I wouldn't live to see tomorrow.
I had to stay strong! I would never give in! I would sit in that chair till the end of the world, if I had to, but there was no way I was going to eat the puree!
* * * * *
Two hours later, my resolve finally began to crumble. Not only was I hungry again, but I was also bored out of my mind. My imagination could only last for so long at a time.
Feeling terribly noble, I picked up the spoon. Though in all likelihood this green stuff would kill me, I had to eat it, or die of boredom. Grabbing onto one last scrap of imagination, I became the brave princess who would suffer through this to save her people. Everything depended on me eating the bean-spinach puree and I would willingly suffer for my people.
A few bites and then three cups of water later, I was done. I had come through the valley of darkness. As I got up from the table, legs wobbling a little bit, I thought I could hear a choir of angels singing. I had completed my trial and could now reap my reward of play time.
As I put my plate in the sink, my mother came into the kitchen. "Oh good, you're finally done."
I nodded proudly. She began to wash my plate. "Well, go brush your teeth and put your pajamas on. It's time for bed."
Needless to say, that night, the orphaned princess had escaped from one dungeon, only to find herself in another one, left alone to plot her revenge.
* * * * *
I always ran to the table when it was supper time, so that I could eat and go back to my play time. About two minutes in, it already became apparent that while I could eat as quickly as a ravenous wolf, the rest of my family had become a herd of turtles, intent on eating as slowly as possible. After looking up from the remains of my meal, it was painfully obvious that play time would just have to wait.
The adults really enjoyed their talking while they ate, but as a five year old, all I could think about was the toys that were calling out to me. They were begging, pleading that I return to them as quickly as possible. How could they understand that I was chained to my chair by the "we don't get up until everyone is done eating" rule? Would they think that I had abandoned them? The more these dreadful thoughts filled my mind, the more I wriggled in my chair, mentally urging my family to eat faster.
Finally, my family was nearly done and I was ready to bolt from my chair. However, my mother finally looked at my plate and said, "Oh, you haven't touched your bean-spinach puree. You have to finish that before you can get up."
Utter despair filled my heart. Tears began to well up in my eyes. "Mom, I'm too full."
She smiled and I felt hopeful. But then she said, "Well then, you can sit here until you're hungry again."
I started to panic, seeing that everyone was going to get up soon. Glancing at the loathsome green mush, I wished that it would just grow legs and walk back to whatever vile place it had come from. This was just so unfair. I hadn't asked for this puree, so why should it keep me from my valuable play time?
Desperately, I began to come up with ways of getting rid of the dreadful substance. I poked at it with my spoon, spreading it around the plate so that it looked eaten. Then I managed to "accidently" drop some on the floor. I put some in my mouth and then asked to go to the washroom, where I disposed of it in the toilet. Still, when I came back, there was a noticeable amount left on my plate and I had run out of ways to get rid of it.
Everyone else was done and had started to leave the table, off to better things. I watched my older cousins leave to go play, and a longing pulled at my heart. They simply couldn't understand the torment I was going through.
My mother began to clear the table and I started to plead with her. "Mom, I can't eat this. I'm allergic."
She shook her head. "You're not."
I tried a different tactic. "Well, it's not cooked enough. So I can't eat it."
Looking at the puree, she sighed and said, "Yes, it is. Now hurry up and eat it so you can go play."
She was about to leave and I knew that I had to take drastic measures. "Mom, if you let me not eat this, then I'll clean my room, I promise."
My last hope left the room, not even dignifying my bribery attempt with an answer. I was lost.
At this point, I wasn't poor five year old girl anymore, no, I was a captive princess who was an orphan and was being tortured in a dark dungeon by evil trolls who liked to make food out of snail vomit. They were forcing me to eat it because they knew it would make me fatally ill and I wouldn't live to see tomorrow.
I had to stay strong! I would never give in! I would sit in that chair till the end of the world, if I had to, but there was no way I was going to eat the puree!
* * * * *
Two hours later, my resolve finally began to crumble. Not only was I hungry again, but I was also bored out of my mind. My imagination could only last for so long at a time.
Feeling terribly noble, I picked up the spoon. Though in all likelihood this green stuff would kill me, I had to eat it, or die of boredom. Grabbing onto one last scrap of imagination, I became the brave princess who would suffer through this to save her people. Everything depended on me eating the bean-spinach puree and I would willingly suffer for my people.
A few bites and then three cups of water later, I was done. I had come through the valley of darkness. As I got up from the table, legs wobbling a little bit, I thought I could hear a choir of angels singing. I had completed my trial and could now reap my reward of play time.
As I put my plate in the sink, my mother came into the kitchen. "Oh good, you're finally done."
I nodded proudly. She began to wash my plate. "Well, go brush your teeth and put your pajamas on. It's time for bed."
Needless to say, that night, the orphaned princess had escaped from one dungeon, only to find herself in another one, left alone to plot her revenge.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Rescued Princess
Retreating backwards into my world,
with scraps of words and stories.
Pure light enveloping me,
a safe place of refuge.
My own world of dreams,
apart from the world outside.
Pain can't reach the inside,
a wall of fog is in place.
A lost little marsh princess.
Is there a prince on his horse,
with a sword to cut the fog?
A gentle hand reaching out,
eyes soft, kindly inquiring.
Long years of solitude affecting
her looks and behaviour.
Eyes wide, brought into the new world,
amazed at the beauty surrounding.
I am in the real world again,
called back by love's sweet whispers.
Hope and dreams can be combined,
and the world is not so dark.
Love will be our light, our hope
and our rock through every storm.
No more running away, dear heart.
Time to face the world once more.
with scraps of words and stories.
Pure light enveloping me,
a safe place of refuge.
My own world of dreams,
apart from the world outside.
Pain can't reach the inside,
a wall of fog is in place.
A lost little marsh princess.
Is there a prince on his horse,
with a sword to cut the fog?
A gentle hand reaching out,
eyes soft, kindly inquiring.
Long years of solitude affecting
her looks and behaviour.
Eyes wide, brought into the new world,
amazed at the beauty surrounding.
I am in the real world again,
called back by love's sweet whispers.
Hope and dreams can be combined,
and the world is not so dark.
Love will be our light, our hope
and our rock through every storm.
No more running away, dear heart.
Time to face the world once more.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Trapped in the Past
I'm constantly reminded of something I read in a book once, about getting trapped in the "land of If Only". It's so unbelievably easy to start thinking about past disappointments, and think, "If only this had happened instead" or, "If only that hadn't happened". It's like the past could have been some happy, carefree time "if only" something had or hadn't happened.
But when you look back all the time, you can't move forward. The past has passed, it's fixed like that now and no amount of wishing and sighing is going to change it. What can change is the present and future, but you can't see the changes if you're still looking backwards.
Besides, yearning for a past that will never happen only rots you inside, and that messes with your present and future too. One has to learn to say, "Yes, that happened, and I hate it, but now it's time for something new to happen". Take a deep breath, dry your tears and deal with your frustration in a constructive way.
Of course some days are still going to be bad. and that's okay. Moving on takes time, sometimes a lot of time. It's all a process. But the first step is to notice when you fall into the trap of "if only", and to step away from that. To focus on the present and future.
But when you look back all the time, you can't move forward. The past has passed, it's fixed like that now and no amount of wishing and sighing is going to change it. What can change is the present and future, but you can't see the changes if you're still looking backwards.
Besides, yearning for a past that will never happen only rots you inside, and that messes with your present and future too. One has to learn to say, "Yes, that happened, and I hate it, but now it's time for something new to happen". Take a deep breath, dry your tears and deal with your frustration in a constructive way.
Of course some days are still going to be bad. and that's okay. Moving on takes time, sometimes a lot of time. It's all a process. But the first step is to notice when you fall into the trap of "if only", and to step away from that. To focus on the present and future.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Books: November
Read:
-The Little White Horse
-The Last Enchantment
-The Life of Pi
-The Lost Hero
-The Shore Read Mystery
-The Mystery of the Spiral Bridge
-Cat Among the Pigeons
Total: 8
Bought:
-The Wicked Day
-The Shore Road Mystery
-The Mystery of the Spiral Bridge
-The Golden One
-Nemesis
-City of Masks
-Children of the Storms
Total: 7
-The Little White Horse
-The Last Enchantment
-The Life of Pi
-The Lost Hero
-The Shore Read Mystery
-The Mystery of the Spiral Bridge
-Cat Among the Pigeons
Total: 8
Bought:
-The Wicked Day
-The Shore Road Mystery
-The Mystery of the Spiral Bridge
-The Golden One
-Nemesis
-City of Masks
-Children of the Storms
Total: 7
Friday, November 30, 2012
Recreation In Progress
I haven't written for awhile, and a lot has happened since I last posted something remotely meaningful. I had an entire summer of writing stories and then things got busy and I stopped writing. I stopped making movies. I didn't really read as much as I used to.
Then stuff happened, and I was suddenly left completely empty inside, a mere shadow of who I used to be. A very tired and lost shadow. It was as though my entire being had been sucked out of me and the only thing left behind was a shell.
So I began the quest of finding myself. It started out with jumbled, angry poetry that didn't even sound poetical. The poems were short, raw and bitter. Anger radiated from them. Words didn't even fit together properly, but the words had been locked away for so long that they all spilled out, quite jumbled.
Days, weeks, two months later and I was still writing poetry, only poetry. But the words were beginning to flow again. Little rays of hope were beginning to sneak in among the bitter and angry creations. It became a game, "put in hope where you can". I still wasn't able to write short stories and planning a movie plot was out of the question.
After a time, I began writing long, not planned out stories in my notebook. None of them got finished, but at least I was writing four or five pages worth of story. It was progress.
Then my drama class and I filmed a movie, with which I had ideas for and helped plan. Though it was only a music video and there wasn't much plot, it was still something, and it meant a lot to me.
So where am I now? Still writing lots of poetry, about to start some short stories (hopefully) and already working on a movie or two. Though I still don't feel like myself every day, I think pieces of myself have returned. But at the same time, I don't even want to be the same as before. I'm different now. Still myself, the old self, but also something new. Something hopeful. I am a Recreation, still in progress.
Then stuff happened, and I was suddenly left completely empty inside, a mere shadow of who I used to be. A very tired and lost shadow. It was as though my entire being had been sucked out of me and the only thing left behind was a shell.
So I began the quest of finding myself. It started out with jumbled, angry poetry that didn't even sound poetical. The poems were short, raw and bitter. Anger radiated from them. Words didn't even fit together properly, but the words had been locked away for so long that they all spilled out, quite jumbled.
Days, weeks, two months later and I was still writing poetry, only poetry. But the words were beginning to flow again. Little rays of hope were beginning to sneak in among the bitter and angry creations. It became a game, "put in hope where you can". I still wasn't able to write short stories and planning a movie plot was out of the question.
After a time, I began writing long, not planned out stories in my notebook. None of them got finished, but at least I was writing four or five pages worth of story. It was progress.
Then my drama class and I filmed a movie, with which I had ideas for and helped plan. Though it was only a music video and there wasn't much plot, it was still something, and it meant a lot to me.
So where am I now? Still writing lots of poetry, about to start some short stories (hopefully) and already working on a movie or two. Though I still don't feel like myself every day, I think pieces of myself have returned. But at the same time, I don't even want to be the same as before. I'm different now. Still myself, the old self, but also something new. Something hopeful. I am a Recreation, still in progress.
Cruel Reality
Cruel Reality, watching so closely,
like a motionless tiger lying in wait.
We were so safe in our little dream bubble,
so unaware of the cold world outside.
The sun shone so brightly up on the green field,
and together we danced, laughingly, carefree.
But jealous Reality, clothed in red dress,
gazed at our joy, and then gleefully screamed,
"I'll take your bright sun and replace it with rain;
your green grassy field will become a grey swamp.
Every sweet word that you both have spoken
shall now melt away, leaving nothing behind."
So the walls of our love were quickly torn down,
and Reality swiftly swept us apart.
like a motionless tiger lying in wait.
We were so safe in our little dream bubble,
so unaware of the cold world outside.
The sun shone so brightly up on the green field,
and together we danced, laughingly, carefree.
But jealous Reality, clothed in red dress,
gazed at our joy, and then gleefully screamed,
"I'll take your bright sun and replace it with rain;
your green grassy field will become a grey swamp.
Every sweet word that you both have spoken
shall now melt away, leaving nothing behind."
So the walls of our love were quickly torn down,
and Reality swiftly swept us apart.
Journey
After being shattered,
torn apart inside,
A hole was carved out of me
and something in me died.
Our dreams, desires and hopes,
so young and plentiful,
All too quickly melted away
both of us feeling dismal.
The time that then came after,
so dark, unhopeful and bleak.
The Heart could see no light
the body soon became weak.
A living, moving corpse,
an empty, lonely shell.
The Soul would drift, unheard from,
locked in its' gloomy cell.
But life is so persistent,
and always will pull through.
Subtle, gentle rays of light
will once again shine true.
The pieces of self are gone,
and an emptiness remains.
Yet the dark thoughts drip away,
the soul no longer in chains.
So Self must be reborn,
clay in a Potter's hands.
Piece by piece, the hole is filled,
done so with multiple strands.
Recreated little wonder,
dance with Joy once more.
Let your dreams regain their wings,
and see what He has in store.
torn apart inside,
A hole was carved out of me
and something in me died.
Our dreams, desires and hopes,
so young and plentiful,
All too quickly melted away
both of us feeling dismal.
The time that then came after,
so dark, unhopeful and bleak.
The Heart could see no light
the body soon became weak.
A living, moving corpse,
an empty, lonely shell.
The Soul would drift, unheard from,
locked in its' gloomy cell.
But life is so persistent,
and always will pull through.
Subtle, gentle rays of light
will once again shine true.
The pieces of self are gone,
and an emptiness remains.
Yet the dark thoughts drip away,
the soul no longer in chains.
So Self must be reborn,
clay in a Potter's hands.
Piece by piece, the hole is filled,
done so with multiple strands.
Recreated little wonder,
dance with Joy once more.
Let your dreams regain their wings,
and see what He has in store.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Books-October
Read:
-N or M?
-Hawksong
-Snakecharm
-Falcondance
-Wolfcry
-Wyvernhail
-The Reckoning
-Crocodile on the Sandbank
-At Bertram`s Hotel
-The Elephant Man
-Night
-The Secret of Chimneys
-Poirot Investigates
Total: 13
Bought:
-The Shapeshifters: Kiesha'ra of the Den of Shadows
-Ghost Stories and other Creatures of British Columbia
-Halloween Party
-4.50 from Paddington
-The Darkest Powers Trilogy
-The Endless Knot
-Cat Among the Pigeons
-Guardian of the Horizon
-Sad Cypress
Total: 9
-N or M?
-Hawksong
-Snakecharm
-Falcondance
-Wolfcry
-Wyvernhail
-The Reckoning
-Crocodile on the Sandbank
-At Bertram`s Hotel
-The Elephant Man
-Night
-The Secret of Chimneys
-Poirot Investigates
Total: 13
Bought:
-The Shapeshifters: Kiesha'ra of the Den of Shadows
-Ghost Stories and other Creatures of British Columbia
-Halloween Party
-4.50 from Paddington
-The Darkest Powers Trilogy
-The Endless Knot
-Cat Among the Pigeons
-Guardian of the Horizon
-Sad Cypress
Total: 9
Monday, October 8, 2012
Books-September
Read:
-The Mysterious Caravan
-The Witchmaster's Key
-The Firebird Rocket
-The Jungle Pyramid
-Ordeal by Innocence
-Lassie Come-Home
-Great Cases of Sherlock Holmes
-The Hollow Hills
-The Forgotten Garden
Total: 9
Bought:
-The Blind Assasin
-The Secret Garden
-Moonraker's Bride
-Kirkby's Changling
-A Treasure of Great Mysteries Volume 1 and 2
-Gift from the African Heart
-The Sword of Shannara
-Blood Sport
-The Power that Preserves
-The Safe House
-Allen Quatermain
-Indian Captive
-The Phantom of the Opera
-Mandarin-Gold
-The Seven Percent Solution
-The Snare of the Hunter
-Nicholas and Alexandra
-The Forgotten Garden
-Amazon Beaming
-Seahorse
-Treasure Island
-Tristram Chandy
-Fell
-The Fionavar Tapestry
-Crocodile on the Sandbank
-The Last Camel Died at Noon
Total: 27
-The Mysterious Caravan
-The Witchmaster's Key
-The Firebird Rocket
-The Jungle Pyramid
-Ordeal by Innocence
-Lassie Come-Home
-Great Cases of Sherlock Holmes
-The Hollow Hills
-The Forgotten Garden
Total: 9
Bought:
-The Blind Assasin
-The Secret Garden
-Moonraker's Bride
-Kirkby's Changling
-A Treasure of Great Mysteries Volume 1 and 2
-Gift from the African Heart
-The Sword of Shannara
-Blood Sport
-The Power that Preserves
-The Safe House
-Allen Quatermain
-Indian Captive
-The Phantom of the Opera
-Mandarin-Gold
-The Seven Percent Solution
-The Snare of the Hunter
-Nicholas and Alexandra
-The Forgotten Garden
-Amazon Beaming
-Seahorse
-Treasure Island
-Tristram Chandy
-Fell
-The Fionavar Tapestry
-Crocodile on the Sandbank
-The Last Camel Died at Noon
Total: 27
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Chance
I took a chance,
and hope was duly murdered.
Lovely dreams were scattered,
a hopeless creature prowling.
Anger replaced by sorrow,
and then remains an emptiness.
Yet even after such heartbreak
there is a revived hope.
Like a phoenix from the ashes
shall rise with new life
a reborn hope.
I will try again,
despite the hurt inside.
and hope was duly murdered.
Lovely dreams were scattered,
a hopeless creature prowling.
Anger replaced by sorrow,
and then remains an emptiness.
Yet even after such heartbreak
there is a revived hope.
Like a phoenix from the ashes
shall rise with new life
a reborn hope.
I will try again,
despite the hurt inside.
Books-August
Books Read:
-What Happened at Midnight
-The Yellow Feather Mystery
-Five Little Pigs
-The Hooded Hawk Mystery
-Summer Promise
-Riding Lessons
-The Secret of Pirate's Hill
-The Clue in the Embers
-A Whisper and a Wish
-Yours Forever
-A Time to Cherish
-Sweet Dreams
-A Promise is Forever
-Death on the Nile
-Mystery at Devil's Paw
-The Ghost at Skeleton Rock
-The Mystery of the Chinese Junk
-The Clue of the Screeching Owl
-The Mirror Cracked from Side to Side
-The Secret Agent on Flight 101
-A Slip of the Pen
-The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
-Mystery of the Whale Tattoo
-The Great Airport Mystery
-Mystery of the Desert Giant
-The Clue of the Broken Saber
-The Haunted Old Fort
-The Viking Symbol Mystery
-The Arctic Patrol Mystery
-The Bombay Boomerang
-Danger on Vampire Trail
-The Masked Monkey
-The Shattered Helmet
-The Clue of the Hissing Serpent
Total: 33
Books Bought:
-The Mummy Case
-What Happened at Midnight
-The Cat Who Went Bananas
-The Larousse Guide to Astronomy
-The Unofficial Hunger Games Cookbook
-The Great Airport Mystery
-The Clue of the Broken Blade
-Mystery of the Desert Giant
-The Viking Symbol Mystery
-The Haunted Fort
-N or M?
-At Bertram's Hotel
-The Secret in the Old Attic
Total: 13
-What Happened at Midnight
-The Yellow Feather Mystery
-Five Little Pigs
-The Hooded Hawk Mystery
-Summer Promise
-Riding Lessons
-The Secret of Pirate's Hill
-The Clue in the Embers
-A Whisper and a Wish
-Yours Forever
-A Time to Cherish
-Sweet Dreams
-A Promise is Forever
-Death on the Nile
-Mystery at Devil's Paw
-The Ghost at Skeleton Rock
-The Mystery of the Chinese Junk
-The Clue of the Screeching Owl
-The Mirror Cracked from Side to Side
-The Secret Agent on Flight 101
-A Slip of the Pen
-The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
-Mystery of the Whale Tattoo
-The Great Airport Mystery
-Mystery of the Desert Giant
-The Clue of the Broken Saber
-The Haunted Old Fort
-The Viking Symbol Mystery
-The Arctic Patrol Mystery
-The Bombay Boomerang
-Danger on Vampire Trail
-The Masked Monkey
-The Shattered Helmet
-The Clue of the Hissing Serpent
Total: 33
Books Bought:
-The Mummy Case
-What Happened at Midnight
-The Cat Who Went Bananas
-The Larousse Guide to Astronomy
-The Unofficial Hunger Games Cookbook
-The Great Airport Mystery
-The Clue of the Broken Blade
-Mystery of the Desert Giant
-The Viking Symbol Mystery
-The Haunted Fort
-N or M?
-At Bertram's Hotel
-The Secret in the Old Attic
Total: 13
I Remember
I seem to remember another time,
one so like today, yet brighter.
Perhaps more warm and golden.
Carefree, perhaps.
Oh, but we're so much older now.
There was a time, I remember, where
all we worried about was getting a tan
and is my makeup just right,
and pass me some soda?
But now we have summer rainstorms
rolling in and we don't have umbrellas.
Sometimes I think we're too old now.
Carefree days are over and now we
live in the cold, real world.
Or could we just...
learn to dance in the puddles?
one so like today, yet brighter.
Perhaps more warm and golden.
Carefree, perhaps.
Oh, but we're so much older now.
There was a time, I remember, where
all we worried about was getting a tan
and is my makeup just right,
and pass me some soda?
But now we have summer rainstorms
rolling in and we don't have umbrellas.
Sometimes I think we're too old now.
Carefree days are over and now we
live in the cold, real world.
Or could we just...
learn to dance in the puddles?
Book List: July
Books Read:
-The Phantom Freighter by Franklin W. Dixon
-Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie
-Gathering Blue by Lois Lowry
-A Murder is Announced by Agatha Christie
-The Secret of Skull Mountain by Franklin W. Dixon
-After the Funeral by Agatha Christie
-In the Hand of the Goddess by Tamora Pierce
-Silverwing by Kenneth Opal
-Sunwing by Kenneth Opal
-A Holiday for Murder by Agatha Christie
-The Sign of the Crooked Arrow by Franklin W. Dixon
-Flying Changes by Sara Gruen
-The Faery Reel by Terri Windling
-500 Years of New Words by Bill Sherk
-The Wailing Siren Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Secret of Wildcat Swamp by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Criss Cross Shadow by Franklin W. Dixon
Total: 17
Books Bought:
-Gathering Blue by Lois Lowry
-The Ape Who Guards the Balance by Elizabeth Peters
-Lion in the Valley by Elizabeth Peters
-The Faery Reel by Terri Windling
-Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce
-The Christy Miller Volume 4 by Robin Jones Gunn
-The Falcon at the Portal by Elizabeth Peters
-Lord of the Silent by Elizabeth Peters
-He shall Thunder in the Sky by Elizabeth Peters
Total: 9
-The Phantom Freighter by Franklin W. Dixon
-Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie
-Gathering Blue by Lois Lowry
-A Murder is Announced by Agatha Christie
-The Secret of Skull Mountain by Franklin W. Dixon
-After the Funeral by Agatha Christie
-In the Hand of the Goddess by Tamora Pierce
-Silverwing by Kenneth Opal
-Sunwing by Kenneth Opal
-A Holiday for Murder by Agatha Christie
-The Sign of the Crooked Arrow by Franklin W. Dixon
-Flying Changes by Sara Gruen
-The Faery Reel by Terri Windling
-500 Years of New Words by Bill Sherk
-The Wailing Siren Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Secret of Wildcat Swamp by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Criss Cross Shadow by Franklin W. Dixon
Total: 17
Books Bought:
-Gathering Blue by Lois Lowry
-The Ape Who Guards the Balance by Elizabeth Peters
-Lion in the Valley by Elizabeth Peters
-The Faery Reel by Terri Windling
-Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce
-The Christy Miller Volume 4 by Robin Jones Gunn
-The Falcon at the Portal by Elizabeth Peters
-Lord of the Silent by Elizabeth Peters
-He shall Thunder in the Sky by Elizabeth Peters
Total: 9
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Books: June
Books Read:
-The Twisted Claw by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Mysts of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley
-Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare by John and Mary Lamb
-The Short Wave Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Disapearing Floor by Franklin W. Dixon
-Mystery of the Flying Express by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Last Hope by Erin Hunter
-After the Flood by Erin Hunter
-The Serpent's Shadow by Rick Riordan
-Death Comes as the End by Agatha Christie
-The Secret of the Lost Tunnel by Franklin W. Dixon
-Ghostlight by Marion Zimmer Bradley
Total: 12
Books Bought:
-After the Flood by Erin Hunter
-The Last Hope by Erin Hunter
-The Serpent's Shadow by Rick Riordan
-Death Come as the End by Agatha Christie
-In the Hand of the Goddess by Tamora Peirce
-The Firebird Rocket by Franklin W. Dixon
-Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan
-The Clue of the Screeching Owl by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Tower of Geburah by John White
Total:9
-The Twisted Claw by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Mysts of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley
-Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare by John and Mary Lamb
-The Short Wave Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Disapearing Floor by Franklin W. Dixon
-Mystery of the Flying Express by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Last Hope by Erin Hunter
-After the Flood by Erin Hunter
-The Serpent's Shadow by Rick Riordan
-Death Comes as the End by Agatha Christie
-The Secret of the Lost Tunnel by Franklin W. Dixon
-Ghostlight by Marion Zimmer Bradley
Total: 12
Books Bought:
-After the Flood by Erin Hunter
-The Last Hope by Erin Hunter
-The Serpent's Shadow by Rick Riordan
-Death Come as the End by Agatha Christie
-In the Hand of the Goddess by Tamora Peirce
-The Firebird Rocket by Franklin W. Dixon
-Pilgrim's Progress by John Bunyan
-The Clue of the Screeching Owl by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Tower of Geburah by John White
Total:9
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Books-May
(Yeah, I know it's nearly the end of June...but I've been busy)
Books Read:
-The Missing Chums by Franklin W. Dixon
-The House on the Cliff by Franklin W. Dixon
-Fear by Michael Grant
-Plague by Michael Grant
-Hunting for Hidden Gold by Franklin W. Dixon
-While the Clock Ticked by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Hangman's Curse by Frank Peretti
-Nightmare Acadmy by Frank Peretti
-Footprints under the Window by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Summoning by Kelly Armstrong
-The Awakening by Kelly Armstrong
-Skin by Ted Dekker
-Husky with a Heart by Ben M. Baglio
-The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
-The Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett
-Little Lord Fauntleroy by Frances Hodgson Burnett
Total: 16
Books Bought:
-The Last Enchantment by Mary Stewart
-The Hollow Hills by Mary Stewart
-Lamb's Tale from Shakespeare by John and Mary Lamb
-Ravenquest by Sharon Stewart
-Max by James Patterson
-Uglies by Scott Westerfeld
-The Jungle Pyramid by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Short Wave Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon
-Ghostlight by Marion Zimmer Bradley
Total: 9
Books Read:
-The Missing Chums by Franklin W. Dixon
-The House on the Cliff by Franklin W. Dixon
-Fear by Michael Grant
-Plague by Michael Grant
-Hunting for Hidden Gold by Franklin W. Dixon
-While the Clock Ticked by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Hangman's Curse by Frank Peretti
-Nightmare Acadmy by Frank Peretti
-Footprints under the Window by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Summoning by Kelly Armstrong
-The Awakening by Kelly Armstrong
-Skin by Ted Dekker
-Husky with a Heart by Ben M. Baglio
-The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
-The Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett
-Little Lord Fauntleroy by Frances Hodgson Burnett
Total: 16
Books Bought:
-The Last Enchantment by Mary Stewart
-The Hollow Hills by Mary Stewart
-Lamb's Tale from Shakespeare by John and Mary Lamb
-Ravenquest by Sharon Stewart
-Max by James Patterson
-Uglies by Scott Westerfeld
-The Jungle Pyramid by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Short Wave Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon
-Ghostlight by Marion Zimmer Bradley
Total: 9
Haunted Nursery
(This short story is based on a song by Midnight Syndicate, with the same title. Their music is always very image inspiring, despite the dark themes. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJRjEC_tku8 )
Wellington
Wellington
Wellington
Wellington
Haunted Nursery
“I
wouldn’t go in there, if I were you.” Said Wellington
I frowned and turned to him. “Why ever not?
This is my house now and I should think I have the right to go into every room,
don’t you?”
He
wiped his balding head with a handkerchief and said “But Miss Morana, this is a
very old house, in which there are some rooms where…well, you just shouldn’t go
into this one!”
I
laughed and put a loose strand of hair back behind my ear. “Are you scared? You
think a ghost might pop out and scare you? It’s just another room! This is my
house now and I intend to explore every inch of it.”
I
rolled my eyes and rested my hands on my hips. “Listen, Wellington
I
sighed, trying to be patient. I hadn’t seen him for a very long time and I had
forgotten what he could be like. “Oh, Wellington
I
turned away from him and frowned at the door, planning out how I would get into
that room. I had been in nearly every other room in this large, rambling
mansion, but this one…I didn’t even remember it from my childhood. It was
rather odd, actually. Then again, I had only been seven, and now I was twenty-seven.
“Wellington
He looked at me nervously, crinkling up his
handkerchief. “Alright, Miss Morana, I'll help you. But don’t say I didn’t warn
you!”
I rolled my eyes but had to smile at him.
“Thanks. Now, go get me the lock picking kit that’s on my nightstand. I bought
it just before I came here, because I knew Dad would have locked rooms.”
He bowed his head and shuffled off while I
inspected the lock again.
After about an hour of trying, I heard the
tell-tale click and slowly opened the door. It took a considerable amount of
force but I finally found myself standing in the doorway of the now unlocked
room.
My first glance around the dark room
relieved little. Like most of the abandoned rooms, sheets covered everything in
a pitiful attempt to keep the dust away. I could tell, however, that there were
large stacks of boxes on the far side of the room.
He bowed his head, saying “I'll go prepare
it then.”
“Thanks, Wellington
My second quick look around proved to be
more informative. Several boxes that weren’t covered by the sheets were open,
and I could see little porcelain dolls peeking out. Their eyes stared at me, as
if trying to speak to me, but failing. I shivered a little and looked around
some more.
I could now see that on the floor were many
little toys, most of them broken and all of them covered in cobwebs and dust.
The more I tried to see them, the darker the room seemed to get, despite the
small beam of my flashlight.
I whirled around as I heard a crash and
then a shattering. Looking around the dark room, I could see that one of the boxes
had fallen over for some reason. Several old dolls had smashed and now their
pieces were lying all over the floor. As I bent down to pick one doll up, I
thought I heard another sound.
I
stiffened and listened closely. It sounded like a baby crying. I frowned but
then the noise stopped. Just my imagination.
But then there was a creak. I turned, just
as the door closed. I ran over to it and pulled on the door, but it remained
closed. I pounded on the door. “Wellington
Nothing happened. But then I heard the
crying again. I turned around, my back now to the door. Shaking, I tried to see
where the sound might be coming from, but I couldn’t tell.
It suddenly felt very cold and I sneezed,
dropping the flashlight. The sound of both my sneeze and the shattering glass
echoed and I felt like I was very small, in a very large room. This is stupid. Keep it together!
I saw something move out of the corner of
my eye and I whirled to look, eyes wide in the darkness. A tinkly noise sounded
and then the something moved again.
I took a step closer, trying to feel braver
than I actually was. As my eyes adjusted a little, I saw that the thing that
was moving was a large music box that was shaped like a merry-go-round.
Miniature horses traveled around in circles, going up and down with the music. The
music sounded vaguely familiar, for some reason. I tried to place it, but
couldn’t.
But that still didn’t explain why the music
box had just started up for no reason. I walked closer and touched it. It kept
going, the song getting faster, instead of slowing down.
More noises came from behind me and I
looked. An old rocking horse was moving on its own. I frowned. What is going on? These things shouldn’t be
moving!
Another faint sound came to me and I
frowned, trying to figure out what it was. As it got louder, it also became
clearer. Singing. A little child, singing.
“A ring, a ring, of roses; a pocket full of
posies; ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”
I shivered and then called out “Hello?
Who’s there?”
There was silence. And then a little white
figure appeared before me, causing me to gasp.
“Want to play?” Asked the figure. It was a
little girl, of maybe five or six years old. She wore an old faded dress, and
had no shoes on. Her hair was a long, black tangled mess and her skin…her skin
was as white as snow. It wasn’t normal.
“Who are you?” I asked, trying to keep my
voice steady. She smiled at me, her eyes staring. Something about her eyes
scared me, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was.
“Morgan. And who are you?”
I was startled by the question. I mean,
this was my house, after all. “I’m
Morana. As in, the Lady Morona De Mors, the one who now owns this house?”
She stared at me blankly, as if none of
that meant anything. I suddenly realized why her eyes scared me; either her
pupils were enormous, or her eye color was pitch black. They were like the
blackest of coals.
“You own this house? But what happened
to…hmm…there was someone else, before, wasn’t there?”
I nodded. “Mr. De Mors? He was my father.
He died and now I own this place.”
She frowned, biting her thin lip. “Dead?
Too?”
I was confused. “What do you mean, ‘too’?”
She shook her head and twirled around. “I
want to play. Play with me!”
This was ridiculous. And yet I found myself
holding her cold hand, and dancing with her. She sang her song again. “A ring,
a ring, of roses; a pocket full of posies; ashes, ashes, we all fall down!”
We crashed to the ground and she started
giggling wildly. I felt laughter bubble up and tried to quench it. But the more
she laughed, the more I wanted to laugh. Finally, I gave into the feeling and
laughed loudly. She grinned wickedly.
“I win. I made you laugh.” She announced as
she stood up.
“So…what are you doing here, Morgan?” I
asked her, also standing.
She frowned, the change so sudden that I
almost laughed again. But her voice was so serious that I didn’t dare. “I
belong here. I am home.”
“Um…no offense, but this is my house, you know. How can this be
home for you?” I asked her, suddenly feeling wary of her again.
She looked away, shaking her head violently.
“No, no! Can’t tell! He’ll be angry and then sad and I can’t tell, we’ll all
fall down!” She ended in a singsong voice again and started twirling around.
“Listen, Morgan. I have to know why you’re
in my house.” I said, taking a step towards her.
She shrieked and I was suddenly flung
backwards into the far wall. I crumpled to the ground, the back of my head
pounding. She continued to shriek, but it wasn’t as loud now. She seemed to be
looking at something while she did, though I couldn’t tell what.
Then my vision started to go fuzzy and I
fell unconscious.
“Miss Morana! Wake up, Miss!” Wellington
Sitting up slowly, I rubbed the back of my
head and groaned. “What…what happened?”
“You see, Miss Morana, she couldn’t tell
you because…well, she promised she wouldn’t.”
“But Wellington
“Your twin sister.”
I choked on my sip of water and he patted
my back until I could breathe properly again. “My sister? My twin sister? Look at me, Wellington
He shook his head and waited for me to calm
down so he could continue. “She is your twin sister, Miss. She’s also dead. A
ghost. That’s why she appears the age that she is.”
I closed my eyes, sure that he had finally
lost it.
“Please keep an open mind, Miss.” He said
and I sighed, opening my eyes again. “All right, go on.”
“I’m not surprised you don’t remember her.
When she died, you were upset for months, barely eating, not playing at all. The
doctor finally said that you had completely suppressed your memories of her.”
I tried to argue against him but could say
nothing. Even while he was explaining, little memories seemed to be peeping
into my mind. Myself, but different. Laughing and playing with dolls. Oh
no…those dolls!
“My old toys…they were in that room! Packed
away!” I said, sitting up even more but falling back in pain. He nodded.
“The dolls were Morgan’s favorites. You couldn’t
look at them without screaming after she died.”
I kept shaking my head, but I knew it all
must have been true. “How did…how did she die?”
He sighed. “There’s part of the reason your
father never said anything. This will be hard for you, Morana.”
I swallowed. “Tell me.”
He took a deep breath and began. “Your
mother loved her work, as you know. She was seldom at home during the day, and
your father was often doing work in his study. So you and Morgan had the run of
the house. You were only five and a half. You two went everywhere together,
exploring and making up games. You rarely were noticed all day.”
I nodded, taking it all in. I seemed to
remember this much. “Go on.”
“Well, one day, your father was working on
a very important part of his work. Morgan was yelling to you from across the
house, but she was right outside his study. He grew angry and put her in the
nursery, your room at the time, and locked her in for punishment. Then he went
back to his work.”
I felt a lump growing in my stomach and I
swallowed again. “Keep going.”
“Well…you know how wrapped up your father
would become when working…so…well, he…”
“He forgot about her.” I said, knowing my
father too well, though I still couldn’t quite believe it. “So…she died in
there?”
He nodded. “When they found her, they all
thought it was an accident, and your father never told anyone the truth. You
went into instant depression and your father had an excuse to have the nursery
locked up, along with all the toys. He decided not to remind you of her, after
you got better. But then…after you left, he started seeing her. Hearing her
laugh. He was tormented. So finally he went back into the nursery and spoke to
her. Told her to never tell anyone what he had done. She was too scared to
refuse, and so she never told. I only found out because your father told me,
the night before he died.”
I closed my eyes, taking it all in and
trying to sort it out. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I opened
them. “I can’t stay here, you know.”
He nodded. “That’s probably for the best.”
A giggle came from somewhere out in the
hall and I shivered again.
End
Saturday, June 9, 2012
To Flee or Not to Flee
(From the perspective of Heathcliff, from Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, right before he
decides to run away, because he doesn’t think the girl he loves, Catherine,
does not love him back)
To Flee, or Not to Flee
To flee, or
not to flee, that is the question:
If it is
braver of the heart to suffer
The scorn
and hatred of unreciprocated love,
Or to take a
stand and hope for change,
And by
hoping, find love. To flee, to mourn
No more; and
by fleeing, would Heartache
And all His
friends simply
vanish with
time? It’s something to be
hoped for.
To flee, to mourn,
To mourn and
perhaps to lose heart. That is the danger,
For if
through mourning hope melts away,
Then hope
and love are lost, and such a thing cannot be.
Yet who
should bear the indignation and anger,
The
purposely blinded eye, the proud woman’s contempt,
The
shattered heart, the unfair endings,
And the cold
glare of disproval from all others,
All of which
could quickly fade away
By fleeing?
Who would bear such toil,
Shed tears
and cry out to the wind,
Except for
fear of losing all hope entirely?
That path is
not yet traveled, and it puzzles the mind,
And breeds
fear in this cold soul,
Preventing
my feet from treading that pathway.
So fear of
losing hope makes me a coward,
Neither
moving forward, nor staying here with her,
And so my
soul rots away in mortal anguish,
Face pale
and yet I have those remnants of hope,
That do
bring even a little comfort;
Perhaps one
day she may once more cast
Her loving
eyes towards my selfish figure.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
To Be or not to Be Translation
(We're studying Hamlet right now and had to do a "translation" of the "To be or not to be" soliloquy. I decided to post it because it sounded somewhat poetic, in its own way.)
To live, or not to live-that's what I'm wondering:
Whether it's braver (in my mind) to bear
all the bad times,
or if I should be against my troubles
and, by being against them, end them. To die, to sleep,
no more (it's over)-and by death we end
the pains of life (all things human)
that humans all get (because of their humanity)-this occurance
is wished for. To die, sto sleep-
to sleep, and maybe to dream. Yes, there's the problem,
because in death the dreams that happen
when we die
might scare us. That's the thing
that makes us put with life.
Who would bear the awfulness of time,
the wrong oppressor, the proud man's insulting treatment,
the hurt of love not returned, delayed justice,
the rude government and the rejection
that taxes people
when you can just fix it yourself
with a dagger? Who would bear these burdens,
to grunt and sweat in this tiresome life,
but there is dread of what's after death,
that undiscovered country that those who go there
don't return, paralyzes your will
and makes us bear the bad things,
instead of flying to other things we don't know about?
So, it is our conscience that makes us all cowards,
and the natural color of resolution
is weakened over with the pale color of our thoughts,
and the great endevours brought by the moment
go wrong and fade away
and lose action.
To live, or not to live-that's what I'm wondering:
Whether it's braver (in my mind) to bear
all the bad times,
or if I should be against my troubles
and, by being against them, end them. To die, to sleep,
no more (it's over)-and by death we end
the pains of life (all things human)
that humans all get (because of their humanity)-this occurance
is wished for. To die, sto sleep-
to sleep, and maybe to dream. Yes, there's the problem,
because in death the dreams that happen
when we die
might scare us. That's the thing
that makes us put with life.
Who would bear the awfulness of time,
the wrong oppressor, the proud man's insulting treatment,
the hurt of love not returned, delayed justice,
the rude government and the rejection
that taxes people
when you can just fix it yourself
with a dagger? Who would bear these burdens,
to grunt and sweat in this tiresome life,
but there is dread of what's after death,
that undiscovered country that those who go there
don't return, paralyzes your will
and makes us bear the bad things,
instead of flying to other things we don't know about?
So, it is our conscience that makes us all cowards,
and the natural color of resolution
is weakened over with the pale color of our thoughts,
and the great endevours brought by the moment
go wrong and fade away
and lose action.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Quilt
This is a picture of my newest quilt! (Sorry it's so blurry and at this point in the picture it isn't done.)
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Final Project Movie
So much work but I hope it'll be rewarding. I'm nearly done a larger movie, for my drama class. It's taken ages to form but it's finally coming to a finish! I've also done a "behind the scenes" movie to go with it. I'll post it once it's done!
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Books: April
(Yeah I totally forgot to do this, but here it is now. It was a boring month anyway, when it came to books.)
Books Read:
-In the Mummy's Tomb by Lynn Beach
-Hamlet (the novel)
-The Tower Treasure by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe
Total: A pathetic 4....
Books Bought: None whatsoever... (This makes me cry inside)
Books Read:
-In the Mummy's Tomb by Lynn Beach
-Hamlet (the novel)
-The Tower Treasure by Franklin W. Dixon
-The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe
Total: A pathetic 4....
Books Bought: None whatsoever... (This makes me cry inside)
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Funeral
The air is full of muffled sobs,
of stifled grief and rainy tears.
The air is tangible, a thing alive,
gripping hearts and lungs with fingers
cold and cruel and searching hungrily.
Seeping into bones is rain, amongst tears
and an eternal dew, casting prisms of light
among the ever present darkness.
False sadness and comforts drip like poison
from a greedy, beguiling snake,
and faces are painted and impossibly perfect,
unnaturally beautiful on this grey, rainy day.
And within the beautiful darkness,
the warm, comforting darkness, rests
a bed as soft as a dream, dreamt by
every mortal man, woman and child.
Lovely rashes of colorful flowers bejewel
the otherwise dull, lifeless spaces.
A murmur of creatures and feastings
and all the while, from sadness is life,
and soon every walking collection of soil
shall melt and join together in the sea of others.
Over time, with warm lazy days and
tense, stormy days and all other days
comes the scent of sweet lovely death,
and the futile efforts of mere mortals.
of stifled grief and rainy tears.
The air is tangible, a thing alive,
gripping hearts and lungs with fingers
cold and cruel and searching hungrily.
Seeping into bones is rain, amongst tears
and an eternal dew, casting prisms of light
among the ever present darkness.
False sadness and comforts drip like poison
from a greedy, beguiling snake,
and faces are painted and impossibly perfect,
unnaturally beautiful on this grey, rainy day.
And within the beautiful darkness,
the warm, comforting darkness, rests
a bed as soft as a dream, dreamt by
every mortal man, woman and child.
Lovely rashes of colorful flowers bejewel
the otherwise dull, lifeless spaces.
A murmur of creatures and feastings
and all the while, from sadness is life,
and soon every walking collection of soil
shall melt and join together in the sea of others.
Over time, with warm lazy days and
tense, stormy days and all other days
comes the scent of sweet lovely death,
and the futile efforts of mere mortals.
Danse Macabre
The sun fades away the horizon
All is quiet, as though lying in waiting…
and then there is a stiff, sudden movement.
Slender, twig-like fingers grasp the earth
and strain as the rest follows upwards, through soil.
Dark empty sockets gaze around, soaking in moonlight.
And then, under the shining full moon, a dance begins.
A single violin plays, lively notes awakening the others
and soon the entire field is full of figures,
all dancing in their own ways, and a clacking
sound is heard whenever they touch each other.
The violinist continues, grinning all the while
as everyone dances, leaping and twirling in the air.
No one disturbs the dancers, for if they did,
they would be enticed into dancing as well, forever.
There would be no return, as other dancers would tell.
And so, on and on goes the dance, and all the while
The pale, ghostly moon resides over them all.
The song has woven among every figure now,
with strands of Sorrow, and Joy, and even Love.
New friends are made, yet words are a thing forgotten.
But then, suddenly, there comes a cry of warning.
The Song slows, and figures slowly stop and
begin to shuffle back towards their lowly homes.
For there is the bright Sun, peeking its head
up and over the mountains, finger-like rays of light
reaching and greedily turning all back into soil.
For now it is daytime, and during the day
the Danse Macabre cannot be, not until night,
At full moon, on the night when skeletons
walk and dance as they did in life.
All is quiet, as though lying in waiting…
and then there is a stiff, sudden movement.
Slender, twig-like fingers grasp the earth
and strain as the rest follows upwards, through soil.
Dark empty sockets gaze around, soaking in moonlight.
And then, under the shining full moon, a dance begins.
A single violin plays, lively notes awakening the others
and soon the entire field is full of figures,
all dancing in their own ways, and a clacking
sound is heard whenever they touch each other.
The violinist continues, grinning all the while
as everyone dances, leaping and twirling in the air.
No one disturbs the dancers, for if they did,
they would be enticed into dancing as well, forever.
There would be no return, as other dancers would tell.
And so, on and on goes the dance, and all the while
The pale, ghostly moon resides over them all.
The song has woven among every figure now,
with strands of Sorrow, and Joy, and even Love.
New friends are made, yet words are a thing forgotten.
But then, suddenly, there comes a cry of warning.
The Song slows, and figures slowly stop and
begin to shuffle back towards their lowly homes.
For there is the bright Sun, peeking its head
up and over the mountains, finger-like rays of light
reaching and greedily turning all back into soil.
For now it is daytime, and during the day
the Danse Macabre cannot be, not until night,
At full moon, on the night when skeletons
walk and dance as they did in life.
Moonnight
Still as an unused tomb,
not even a whisper or a sigh.
Like the moment before a storm,
when animals are silent and hidden,
and the clouds prowl like hungry
wolves.
There is a scent of cool remembrance,
an icy sliver woven between warmer
air.
A single breath, and small clouds are
born,
drifting up and away forever,
lifespan eternal yet so short.
Twin pools shine for a moment and
then are hidden once more from sight.
Silver threads snake across the land,
exposing hidden things and casting
shadows.
A lonely note rises into the freezing
expanse,
hovering about and chilling to the bone.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Steampunked Clock
Friday, April 27, 2012
English Class
A nothing sort of scent,
save that of the many people.
Perfume hangs in the air, a cloud
of impending doom and trickery.
Laughter low, with a gleam of teeth,
flash of mischief, with ill intentions.
The ruffle of knowledge, torn or lost,
portals to other times ignored.
Silent mockery, whispered comments
elusive like snakes, grasping at smoke.
Memory drifts in and around,
feeling peckish and lazy as cats in the sun.
The silent hunter, Sleep, striking quickly
when people aren't looking.
Fake smiles and faces kept up and
maintained like mansion gardens.
And all the while, the one in charge
keeps her own eyes blind to it all.
save that of the many people.
Perfume hangs in the air, a cloud
of impending doom and trickery.
Laughter low, with a gleam of teeth,
flash of mischief, with ill intentions.
The ruffle of knowledge, torn or lost,
portals to other times ignored.
Silent mockery, whispered comments
elusive like snakes, grasping at smoke.
Memory drifts in and around,
feeling peckish and lazy as cats in the sun.
The silent hunter, Sleep, striking quickly
when people aren't looking.
Fake smiles and faces kept up and
maintained like mansion gardens.
And all the while, the one in charge
keeps her own eyes blind to it all.
Lost Mind
I am going to lost my mind
and here are the reasons why.
My heart's been seized and so I cry,
mourning the loss of a lovely lie.
My heart's been dragged through shards of glass,
bloodied hands are wiped on grass.
Take the body and hold a mass,
for the poor, delusional little lass.
Dreams destroyed by a sudden truth,
the frail emotions of foolish youth.
and here are the reasons why.
My heart's been seized and so I cry,
mourning the loss of a lovely lie.
My heart's been dragged through shards of glass,
bloodied hands are wiped on grass.
Take the body and hold a mass,
for the poor, delusional little lass.
Dreams destroyed by a sudden truth,
the frail emotions of foolish youth.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Mirror
A see-through mirror reflection,
useful until it's not anymore.
Dreams and hopes and wishes are irrelevant,
don't matter to those who matter.
Forgetful thoughts and reflections drown,
a sea of higher importance.
Push down the lowly ones,
smile but don't let it reach your eyes.
Or your heart.
useful until it's not anymore.
Dreams and hopes and wishes are irrelevant,
don't matter to those who matter.
Forgetful thoughts and reflections drown,
a sea of higher importance.
Push down the lowly ones,
smile but don't let it reach your eyes.
Or your heart.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Undeserved Friend
A dear friendly fellow,
trusting you forever.
Until every green thing
turned to dust particles,
and then blew away.
You were his god,
his fearless leader
into every new day.
But now where have
you led him to?
Your faithful friend,
never doubting companion,
power abused, worn and
now tired to death.
Ever at your side,
no reason what so ever.
You don't deserve this
friend, so happy to
see you every time.
trusting you forever.
Until every green thing
turned to dust particles,
and then blew away.
You were his god,
his fearless leader
into every new day.
But now where have
you led him to?
Your faithful friend,
never doubting companion,
power abused, worn and
now tired to death.
Ever at your side,
no reason what so ever.
You don't deserve this
friend, so happy to
see you every time.
Strangers
Such utter surprise,
yet joyfully so.
Two strangers met,
and yet they knew
each other well.
Such hope in their
eyes, like burning lights.
Hearts entwined, a lovely
dance of celebration.
Recognized themselves
in each other and
wanted to know more.
Let the journey
begin.
yet joyfully so.
Two strangers met,
and yet they knew
each other well.
Such hope in their
eyes, like burning lights.
Hearts entwined, a lovely
dance of celebration.
Recognized themselves
in each other and
wanted to know more.
Let the journey
begin.
Once....
Once upon a time,
a woman had a baby,
but the baby looked so odd,
so they put the baby away,
into a treasure box,
and once again they tried,
this time, wanting perfection.
Once upon a time,
a woman had a baby,
but the baby was slightly ill,
so this one too was put away,
silent and simple little thing.
There was no cry
because it's alright.
Life isn't life
until we say so.
The fine line's been crossed,
there's no going back.
a woman had a baby,
but the baby looked so odd,
so they put the baby away,
into a treasure box,
and once again they tried,
this time, wanting perfection.
Once upon a time,
a woman had a baby,
but the baby was slightly ill,
so this one too was put away,
silent and simple little thing.
There was no cry
because it's alright.
Life isn't life
until we say so.
The fine line's been crossed,
there's no going back.
Shakespearean Sonnet
It is a wish come true,
a beautiful thing from a dream.
To be so close, to be in love with you,
and yet, things are not always as they seem.
This entire time together is all a lie,
a mere puppet of the thing called reality.
And so all day I smile, and every night I cry,
and all the while I wonder at the slight possibility,
that you may someday love me as well.
Shall you never hold my hand for more
than show? My heart rose and instantly fell,
remembering why we are here; my heart shall never soar.
In the end of all things, we finally will part
and all I can do is pray for a new start.
a beautiful thing from a dream.
To be so close, to be in love with you,
and yet, things are not always as they seem.
This entire time together is all a lie,
a mere puppet of the thing called reality.
And so all day I smile, and every night I cry,
and all the while I wonder at the slight possibility,
that you may someday love me as well.
Shall you never hold my hand for more
than show? My heart rose and instantly fell,
remembering why we are here; my heart shall never soar.
In the end of all things, we finally will part
and all I can do is pray for a new start.
Leave the Poems Alone
Leave the lovely poems alone,
they are museum paintings.
Beautiful, fragile, delicate art,
ponderous, questionable, anything possible.
Abstract, 3D, so many meanings,
all correct, or maybe all wrong.
But if you touch them,
impose your theories, stamp your mark,
and say "this is this" and nothing else...
you are a murderer, a vile creature,
taking away the beauty from beauty itself.
Taking the Mona Lisa, drag it through the mud.
It all comes down to ink, to paper, to nothing.
If you won't appreciate the artwork,
then leave this place of wonder,
and take your theories with you.
they are museum paintings.
Beautiful, fragile, delicate art,
ponderous, questionable, anything possible.
Abstract, 3D, so many meanings,
all correct, or maybe all wrong.
But if you touch them,
impose your theories, stamp your mark,
and say "this is this" and nothing else...
you are a murderer, a vile creature,
taking away the beauty from beauty itself.
Taking the Mona Lisa, drag it through the mud.
It all comes down to ink, to paper, to nothing.
If you won't appreciate the artwork,
then leave this place of wonder,
and take your theories with you.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Italian Sonnet
(Italian Sonnet, English Homework)
To see your face, just one last time,
to paint the memory, the image of you
within my mind, a hopeful though to see me through.
A silent wish, a cry of the heart, if only you were mine!
While I may smile, laugh and say all is fine,
every word would be a lie, a differant point of view.
There is that wish, do you feel this way too?
How am I to know, with out so much as a sign?
So lovely are you; you are the cause of my smile,
each day I see you, and my love grows more.
And yet, can I ever tell you? If I should lose
our friendship, so beautiful and young, and all the while
so fragile, the pain of that loss would touch my core.
So I shall never tell you, dreaming up every excuse.
To see your face, just one last time,
to paint the memory, the image of you
within my mind, a hopeful though to see me through.
A silent wish, a cry of the heart, if only you were mine!
While I may smile, laugh and say all is fine,
every word would be a lie, a differant point of view.
There is that wish, do you feel this way too?
How am I to know, with out so much as a sign?
So lovely are you; you are the cause of my smile,
each day I see you, and my love grows more.
And yet, can I ever tell you? If I should lose
our friendship, so beautiful and young, and all the while
so fragile, the pain of that loss would touch my core.
So I shall never tell you, dreaming up every excuse.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Surprise!
That time when something happens,
something new and exciting.
You never saw it coming,
hit you like an arrow.
And suddenly you're floating,
way high up in the sky.
Because something happened,
and the world yelled out
"Surprise!"
something new and exciting.
You never saw it coming,
hit you like an arrow.
And suddenly you're floating,
way high up in the sky.
Because something happened,
and the world yelled out
"Surprise!"
Saturday, April 7, 2012
The Adventures of Katkin Sharpeyes-Coffee Shop
He sighed as he grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat of his care, and then got out of the vehicle. Closing and locking the door, he looked around at the other students who were going into the school. He ran his fingers through his long black hair, his silver eyes dull and lifeless.
I grinned and marched towards him, finally deciding on a hair color: dark red, short and straight. I added a black streak at the last moment and then changed my eyes to dark green.
Just in time too. Just as he started walking, he saw me. He stopped and stared. But only for a moment. He shouldered his backpack and started walking towards the building. I walked a little fast, keeping my own backpack in place. “Hey! Um…excuse me…” I said, stuttering a little on purpose.
He turned back around and took another look at me. “Yes?” He asked, and I noticed with satisfaction that he was looking at my red hair.
“I don’t mean to bother you but, see, this is my first day at this school and I was wondering if you could, you know, show me around a little?”
He looked surprised but then smiled a little. “Sure. What class do you have first?”
I looked at the schedule in my hand, although I had already memorized it. “Hmm…English. English eleven, that is.”He smiled more now. “Hey, I have that now too! We can go together, uh-”
"Katkin.” I supplied. “Katkin Sharpeyes.”
Once again, he looked surprised, but only for a moment.
* * * * *
His name was Eric. He was chief editor of the school newspaper and wrote the poetry column as well. He also played soccer, but only in his spare time: he thought the school team was a sham. He had just turned seventeen last week and was currently single.
Interesting.“So what about you…Katkin, right?”
I nodded encouragingly. “That’s right. Umm, well…I’m not quite sure what to say. I guess I like history. All history, from any time. And…well, I love to paint. And read.”
He grinned. “I love reading.” He reached into his backpack, which rested on the floor next to his desk, and pulled out a shiny, new looking novel.
“This is what I’m reading right now.” He passed it to me and took it with my thin, spindly fingers. I traced the spine and then stroked the cover.
Share your secrets, new friend.
After a moment, I handed it back to him. “Yes, I’ve read this one. I really liked it.”
“Is the ending any good?” He asked, putting the book back into his bag. I nodded. “I think you’ll like it.”
The bell rang and everyone else found their seats. The teacher came in and began the lesson. I sat back, not really listening. Instead, I studied the other students, picking up on their personality types. It was such fun and the class went by quickly.
I waited for Eric as he put his things into his bag. Then we walked out together. “So, what did you think of the lesson?” He asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve learnt all that already, so it wasn’t that exciting.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve learnt it already?”
I nodded. “From a book.”
We walked down the hall, both of us in the next class together as well. As we came to the door, he said “I thought it was a little strange that the teacher didn’t introduce you or anything. I mean, she didn’t even talk to you. It’s like she didn’t notice you.”
I gave him a little grin. “Maybe she didn’t.”
Before he could reply, I went through the door and into the next class.
* * * * *
We ate lunch together and then met up again after school. “I was planning on going to the coffee shop to work on my poetry column, if you want to come along.” He said, running his fingers through his hair.
Coffee shop….hmmm…“Alright. Sounds fun.” I said, tucking a loose strand of my hair back behind my ear. We walked out to his car and he opened the door for me.
“Thanks.” I said and got in. He closed the door and then got in on his side.
As we started driving down the road, he asked me “Do you need to call anyone, to tell them where you’re going?”
I looked at him, confused. “Call? Call who?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, parents? Guardians? I have a cell phone, if you need it, that’s all.”
I frowned a little, trying to place his question. Then it clicked. “Oh, you mean like, home or something. No, I don’t, thanks.”
“No one will worry?” He asked, eyes focused on the road. I grinned to myself.
"No…not here, anyway.”
He didn’t hear.
* * * * *
The entire afternoon went by in the coffee shop, and nothing strange happened. I had been so sure that the coffee shop was the place…but maybe I had been wrong.
At around five, I said that I had to go and could walk there. He said that he had had a great time and would see me tomorrow.I now meandered down the road, waiting for dark. A slight wind blew, but I didn’t feel it. I finally found the entrance of a park and went in, the sunlight slowly fading away.
Once I was no longer visible from the road, I found a park bench and sat down. I opened up my backpack and rummaged through it, wondering what exactly was in there. Finally, I found the object that I had been looking for. Pulling it out, I looked around, to make sure I was alone. Satisfied, I then examined the thing in my hands.
It was a perfect sphere of solid glass. At least, you’d assume it was glass. It reflected the little bit of light left and shone brightly. Inside were lots of little sparkles, all suspended as if frozen in time. The surface was cold and I shivered a little.
“Now then…if not the coffee shop…then where? I was so sure it was the coffee shop.”The sphere remained silent and dark, much to my irritation. “Oh, nothing to say?” I asked mockingly.
Apparently not.
“Come now…tell me where! Why am I here? What’s the place where I’ll be needed?”
Nothing at all. I bared my teeth, which were now pointed like a cats, and suppressed the urge to throw it somewhere. Instead, I put it back in my bag and stood up.
Now where to sleep… I poked at a sturdy looking tree and then climbed up, my hands turning into nice big bear claws.
Once I was at the top, I switched back to human hands and took off my backpack. I quickly secured the strap to some branches and then changed my entire body into the body of a squirrel. Curling my bushy tail around myself like a blanket, I sighed and closed my eyes.
* * * * *
The next day, Eric and I hung out together during all our classes. Every new class we went to, I wondered if that was where I was needed. But nothing happened.
We went to the coffee shop again after school. He didn’t have any work to do this time, so we drank coffee and talked for a while. “So did your family just move here?” He asked at one point. I looked down at my coffee and blew on it gently.
“Sort of, I guess. Actually, I don’t think I’ll…we’ll be staying for that long. We’re kind of just…passing through, you know?”
I looked up at him and was surprised to see a sad look in his eyes. “Really?” He asked, gazing at me intently.
I nodded. “I don’t really know, but we’ll probably be leaving soon.”
"Oh.” He said and looked away.
“Why?” I asked, tracing the rim of my cup with one finger. He looked back at me.
“Well, I just…I was just wondering if…you’d want to go out with me sometime.”
We stared each other in the eyes, neither of us moving.
So that was it….
“Listen, Eric…I’d love to but…well, I don’t know how much longer I have, you know?”
He was about to reply when I held up a hand, motioning him to be silent. All my senses were screaming danger at me and I had heard something odd.
The door to the coffee shop had been opened and someone had come in. I glanced around and saw that no one else was around, besides us. “Eric…stay still and don’t make a sound, alright? Please, trust me.” I whispered as he tried to protest. He closed his mouth and watched me, waiting. I got up, a large chair blocking my view of the door. Crouching low around it, I saw the source of danger and went cold.
A man wearing a mask, holding a gun. He looked around, clearly disappointed by the lack of people. But he must have smelled the fresh coffee and thought someone was still there. Which, of course, there was.
Stepping over my backpack, I kept my eyes on him as I crept behind the counter, where I’d have a better chance of sneaking up on him. Changing my eyes to eagle eyes, I waited for the right moment. He turned, looking around and then turned a little bit more, so that his back was to me. Checking the position of the gun, I bunched up onto my feet and got ready to spring. All my senses were heightened. The time had come.
I leapt at him, hands changed into claws, and hit the gun out of his hand. He yelled and punched at me, but I dodged it and tore at his face, claws sinking deep. We fell over and he tried to pin me to the ground.
I screamed out wildly and managed to roll away, landing on the gun as I did. Before I could react, he pushed me off and grabbed the gun again. I froze, not even breathing. The man grinned but didn’t fire. Glancing around, he called out, “Whoever else is in here can come out now.”
Biting my lip, I quickly changed my hands back to human. Eric, please stay there! Please!
“Hurry up or I’ll shoot her!” The man said. Eric appeared from behind the chair and I groaned, though already I was thinking of a new plan of attack.
Eric walked over to us and the man let go of me, pushing me towards Eric. He looked at me worriedly. The man was looking at Eric with a look of puzzlement, but then his eyes lit up. “You! I know you!” He said, and I shivered, sensing something bad.
Eric twitched. “Well, I don’t know you, so…I don’t see, uh, how you know me…”
The man laughed. “You think I’m an idiot? You’re that billionaires kid! The only child, right?”
I heard Eric swallow nervously and knew that it must be true. Which only made this situation more clear.
“I bet your dad would pay a lot of money for you…of course, he’ll need convincing that I actually will hurt you if he doesn’t pay, so I’ll just shoot your hand, take a picture, and send it to him, with a ransom note.”
I glanced at Eric. He was pale and seemed unable to move. “Against the wall, both of you.” The man said, pointing the gun. I tugged at Eric and we walked over to the wall, waiting. As we did, I changed my hands to bear claws, keeping the, behind me.
“Ready for pain?” The man said with a grin as he undid the safety on the gun.
Now! A split second before he pulled the trigger, I lunged at him, reaching for his face. I tore at his eyes and nose, and then his throat…
…but suddenly it felt like I was on fire. I reeled away from him, bear claws dripping red. I realized that I couldn’t hear anything and that I was bleeding too. The gun…
There was blood coming from my stomach, spurting as my heart beat. I collapsed, holding my now human hands over my wound. I saw that the man had fallen over, his face an unrecognizable mess. I grinned a little, despite the raging pain.
Eric had rushed over to me and was saying something. I shook my head a little, trying to hear him. “What?” I gasped, a little bit of blood running out of my mouth. He took one of my hands and held it tightly. “It’s going to be okay! I’ll go call an ambulance!”
“No!” I said, my breath becoming erratic. “Eric, don’t worry. It’s too late now.”
His eyes went wide and then he started to shake his head. “No, it’s not! It’ll be okay!”
I smiled gently. “Eric…listen…it’s time for me to leave now.”
He looked at me, frowning. “No…you can’t die because of me.”
“I came here to save you, Eric. And now I’ve done just that. So I have to move on.”
His eyes were full of tears and confusion. “But…I don’t understand…”
I pulled my hand away from my bullet wound. There wasn’t blood anymore. Instead, light was flowing from it, spreading all around me. The pain started to fade.
“I’m going now, Eric. Thanks for…for being here.”
As I healed, I lost control of my shape shifting. My hair turned blue, and then purple, the length alternating. And then I had cat ears.
Eric let go of my hand. “Katkin…” he whispered, staring at me. I stood up and smiled. Then I leaned forward and kissed him. “Goodbye.” I whispered, and then I disintegrate into a thousand particles of light, my backpack fading as well.
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