Dreaming of Reality

back in the saddle

Thu, 03 Dec 2009 08:29:39 GMT

Ah, NaNoWriMo is done, and I won (this year was a lot tougher for some reason). :-D I'm happy with finishing it. I even have the idea for a sequel. I can't wait to order a copy of it in paperback.

So, what I need to do now is to get back into the world of Hanfic. Basically what I'm going to do? Finish setting up my Dreamwidth account, join the Hanfic community, and pound out some major fics (i.e. finishing at least 1 before the end of the year, or have a decent idea on how to finish one). I hope I still have some fans out there *bites fingernails*. I know, I know...I've always been in-and-out of the Hanfic community, but ehh...I don't know. I'd like to be in it. I feel like I said this in 2005, so what, 5 years I've wanted to be in? We'll see what happens.

Immediate fiction goals = work on The Friendly Game and the Edge. Oh yeah, and a chapter of Chasing Hearts! hehe

Big work: rewrite of Right Here. I've got a killer idea for it.

Projects I could reasonably get done before the end of the year: Mission: Prevention. Might be the only one.

I have too many stories on Hiatus. Time to get them out of my In Progress file and fill up my Finished. Ugh...too bad there's too many in there.

don't refocus your eyes in the darkness

Fri, 27 Nov 2009 19:29:25 GMT

Another quick update. I've gotta go to work (which I don't wanna! *whine*) so enjoy!

Title: Arcadia Divergent
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, alcohol usage and references, sexual references
Summary: Devin Kinney is a normal 20-something tortured emo kid with reason, but with his belief in the occult, his fantasies go a bit haywire. With a trip to the beach to visit his estranged father, he becomes fascinated by just watching a woman-like creature emerging from the waters of California...until she finally approaches him.
Word count of this installment: 1,718
Word count to date: 42,309

Jab. Jab. It just wouldn’t stop. He didn’t know what it was, but it wouldn’t stop. Bordering on the insane.

“Young man!”

Jerking awake from what he thought was another one of his horrible nightmares, he felt the grass sticking to his skin and his head jerked up. He knew instantly where he was; the question was, how?

“Have you been consuming alcohol, young man?”

Devin shot up, a sudden burst of adrenaline bursting through his veins, searching frantically for his flashlight, which was still shining through the early morning gray sky.

“Young man, do you know it’s an offense to enter a private cemetery after closing hours? I could fine you 500 dollars for this.”

“I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again,” Devin mumbled softly, flicking the flashlight off, “I just…I wanted to see my mom.”

“Please do so during business hours,” he looked at Devin as they finally met each other’s gaze. The man was holding a rake and had been raking leaves off the majority of the surrounding ground of the graves, his age showing on his face, “You look relatively harmless. When’d you lose your mom?”

“Last year today.”

“M’sorry to hear that,” the man said softly in response, pulling his rake back against his body upright, unlike the horizontal position it had been in to prod the young Devin awake. He, at the sight of the sitting up young man, peered over to see the sign on the small plot, “Willow Kinney. You’re Willow’s boy?”

“Yes I am.”

“I went to school with Willow. Beautiful young girl,” he smiled, “Didn’t know she passed. I’m so sorry, son.”

“S’okay,” he mumbled, his head still full of sleep, “Do you happen to know what time it is?”

“Just after 7. Get on home. This isn’t the place your momma would want you to be,” the man sighed, “God, just hearin’ Willow’s gone makes me feel old.”

“I’ll get home now,” Devin replied softly, gathering his wits about him and trudged his way up the still damp hill. Not a word was spoken more between the men.

As Devin made his way home after starting up his Rondo all over again, he was thankful that the man had come along after all, what with him forgetting the set the alarm on his cell phone. Pulling into the drive barely a half mile away, he thanked his mother for the man not giving him a fine. He knew he had been pushing it going late, but he just had to see her before he left for his flight. He knew an early morning visit, at the time it was presently, wasn’t possible.

Climbing into the shower at around quarter after 7, to say the least, was comforting, considering he was sleeping on cold grass and dirt. He washed away the anxiety of the morning, knowing more was to come, but if he started off the day clean, maybe he wouldn’t get as dirty with memories. His mind was still cloudy, but he relished the hot shower like water to a stranded cactus in the desert. The air was thick with the humidity of the moist steam, and now the scent of his baby shampoo and Old Spice body soap, which brought him to be more awake, the spicy scent entering his nostrils and un-clouding his brain.

He heard a knock on the door, peered his head out and yelled, “Brooke? That you?”

“Yeah! Devin? You’re not at the airport yet? Where were you last night?”

“Fell asleep downstairs, and then went to visit Mom.”

“At 2 in the morning? You nuts?”

“Maybe,” he laughed.

“Well, just knock on my door when you’re done, okay? I need to come back in there and dry my hair when you’re done.”

Ah, so that’s why the shower mat was still damp, he thought as he stood under the shower head for another minute, then shut the valves off. Toweling off once he stepped out, he rang out his washcloth and hung it over the top railing where the curtain was and wrapped the towel around his waist. His hair really didn’t need a whole lot of maintenance, just a tiny bit of gel to keep it steady. Wasn’t quite in the mood for a floppy hair that very day.

He knocked on the door, then scurried back into his bedroom, drying off and slipping off his towel, quickly getting dressed and putting deodorant on. He heard Brooke coming out of her room, probably in uniform for her job as a human resource manager at the local grocery store. She had to be there, bright, early, and perky blonde, which she could easily supply to their demand. He did give her credit, though. His and her fields constantly had to do with a bunch of idiots.

Now if Corey hadn’t gotten so lucky, he could be miserable like the rest of them. Instead, he became a high school physical education teacher. Lucky jerk.

“Hey,” he walked out of his bedroom in a red t-shirt and blue jeans, his leather sandals digging into his feet as he was slipping them on by the doorway.

“Wait a sec!” Brooke’s hair dryer shut off and she had her toothbrush in her mouth. She leaned over, giving him a minty kiss on the cheek, “Be safe, okay? Corey and I will be out in a few days. And don’t let Uncle Roy give you shit, okay?”

“Will do, Brooke. Will do,” Devin saluted with his pointer and middle finger playfully.

“You know how I worry,” Brooke smiled softly.

“You worry more about the store having the newest Cosmopolitan magazine before you do,” Devin let out a small guffaw.

“Don’t make me paste you,” she pulled the toothbrush out of her mouth again, threatening to flick it in his direction.

“Okay, uncle, uncle!” he stuck his hands up playfully, then reached for his luggage, “See you two in a few days.”

********

After grabbing himself a muffin and some bacon, he heard his flight called over the intercom. Luckily, the terminal he was departing from had a place to get some decent food, and close as well. He had practically inhaled the muffin, his throat dry, and the bacon wasn’t cutting it. He coughed as he reached for his Simply Orange bottle and chugged at least half the bottle, then quickly swallowed and took it with a chaser of bacon, half-fried and simply delicious.

Grabbing his carry-on, he harshly slung it over his shoulder and finished off his bacon, licking his fingers clean of the grease and wiping his hand off on his jeans. His other piece of rolling luggage, hopefully, was already on the plane, and he got in line, pulling his plane ticket out of his pocket. Quickly noticing that he got a smudge from the grease, he shrugged it off and handed it to the flight attendant to check it and made his way onto the walkway and onto the plane.

As soon as he sat down in his coach seat, he pulled out his Samsung Rogue and quickly touched the screen to get to his game: Modern Warfare 2. He didn’t like it on X-Box, but for some reason it was really cool on a touch screen cell phone. Making sure the sound was off and that there were no flight attendants, he spent the next 5 minutes playing an unsatisfying, very short battle, before he got tapped sharply on the shoulder by a flight attendant.

“You know not to do that, Devin.”

“Alexis,” Devin looked up at her, quickly shutting his game off and shoving his phone in his pocket, “You know I wasn’t doing a damn thing.”

“Sure, sure,” she giggled, her ponytail tightly wound up against her head, pulling back her normally friendly face, “But I can’t treat you special, you know.”

“I know. At least my iPod is still in my bag.”

“Thank God for small favors,” she laughed. He had been her first girlfriend and luckily, their relationship had been casual enough that they had remained friends, albeit awkward ones, “Visiting your dad again?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t today a year for…”

Devin bit his lip, “Yes. I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Well…you know,” she said softly, “Hey, I’ve got to be going. I’ll let you alone with your thoughts. I know this isn’t an easy day, but hey…stop me if you need to talk. Seriously, Dev.”

“I will if I need to,” he sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to do it. He much preferred to look at her figure, slightly curvy and busty yet pleasing to his eye, walk away. Besides, he was sure she wouldn’t quite understand the extent of his feelings.

His nightmares that he had woken up to had not been scary to the extent that he would truly call them all nightmares, but left him with a foreboding stone in his gut. He’d had dreams like that before, but only one every once in a while. Having 4 in a row the same night was draining, along with a few other dreams that he could not remember. That’s why he shot up with such a shock when the man poked him with the wooden end of the rake; he was glad to be out of that mindset, even though it wasn’t complete.

Reaching his hand into his pocket, pulling his cell phone back out and putting it on the tray in front of him, he hoped, unlike in his nightmare, that his mother’s cell phone number would not pop up on his caller I.D. and her mysteriously talking to him from the beyond.

The duration of the pre-take off atmosphere was quiet, him watching Alexis from afar, glad she was at least supportive in his time of sorrow. By the time the plane took off, he had relaxed enough to not be a total wreck like usual and settled into his seat, unbuckling it as soon as they were in the air. He knew it would not be a long flight, but he turned on his iPod once they were mid-air, knowing he would drift off to sleep no matter what was on, and a 3-hour mid-morning nap did not sound too bad to him at all.

back to Rocky and Cherry Coke

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 05:46:35 GMT

Okay, there's not too much of a higher word count at the very moment, but no matter how tired I am, I'm going to get up over 30k tonight, no matter what. And finally, FINALLY, I have a good point I'm getting to. Something that even shocked me when I thought of it. Thought of it last night, and I don't know if it's truly possible, but I like the twist it'll give. I'd like some feedback. I know the last chapter was corny, but this one'll be deep to make up for the goofiness of the last one. Enjoy! :-D

Title: Arcadia Divergent
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, alcohol usage and references, sexual references
Summary: Devin Kinney is a normal 20-something tortured emo kid with reason, but with his belief in the occult, his fantasies go a bit haywire. With a trip to the beach to visit his estranged father, he becomes fascinated by just watching a woman-like creature emerging from the waters of California...until she finally approaches him.
Word count of this installment: 2,160
Word count to date: 28, 470

Feeling his breaths come out in deep, apnea-like spurts, his nose was trying to clamp down on his snoring. The TV was still on, Half-Life 2 on pause, he knew that for sure. He had been drifting in and out of sleep for the past hour now. Heaviness dwelled on his face and the guitar still lie on top of his belly, his arms wrapped protectively around it. Forgetting he was holding it, he started to lean up and heard the unnatural dissonance of the strings all going off at once as the guitar clunked its way to the ground. He shook his head, feeling so numb, and instantly getting one of those headaches you only get when you’re half-asleep, but they’ll stay with you for hours on end.

Glad he got out of that dream sequence.

He was singing “Bad Romance” to Mallory, his ex-girlfriend, and conveniently, she had come over that day to visit Brooke. Somehow, the living room had warped into this huge sound stage, and him and the Blind Jaywalkers were surrounded by all sorts of lights, amps, fire, smoke, and were all dressed in Kiss make-up. Devin stuck out his tongue a lot during the performance, and there she was, smug as ever, yawning in his presence.

Tramping over in his humongous platform boots, the white paint on his face starting to crack from the sweat rolling down his face, he couldn’t tell whether his face was melting off or he was crying, “Mal, please, take me back.”

“Never!” she shouted, her ponytail whipping like a dagger around her face and her hand met his face, slapping it extremely hard. His make-up, now revealed to be a mask, cracked at the impact, flying off in the opposite direction, and now there was his face staring at her. He dropped to his knees, painfully, his lips meeting her rhinestone-covered pink-painted toes and quickly, starting to take them into his mouth…

That’s when his consciousness came back full blast. Once again, he had fallen asleep and with a deep snort, pushed himself out of that nasty dream he’d been having all night. He didn’t like having dreams about Mallory in the first place, considering she was the one that cheated, but to taunt him with the one thing he would never do that she begged for.

Shivering, he slowly stood up, avoiding stepping on his guitar.

“C’mon Maudette,” the name of the first killed in the Sookie Stackhouse novels, the fang-banger, was spoken as he picked the guitar up by the neck and whipped it around to where it laid on his shoulders. He carefully maneuvered it as he made his way back up the stairs. He had somewhere to go before he caught his flight in a few hours. At least he had gotten a little bit of sleep before he had to make his way into a moving vehicle, onto a moving sidewalk at the airport, into a moving airplane when it would take off, and then, into another moving vehicle when he got to Hertz at the airport.

Once he went back upstairs, he gingerly put Maudette back into her case, closing it, and shutting off his computer. His vacation couldn’t have come at a better time. He was manager of the Holiday Inn Express that was in New Stanton, which didn’t pay too bad. He had been in that position for about a year now, so his week-long vacation started at a strange time in the year, but for him, it was excellent timing. He needed time away from this place, reminding him of his Mom. The pain pulled at his heart as it sank into the case. Devin leaned down, pushing a couple stray pieces of dust off its painted surface, and proceeded to snap the case shut. He looked at the reflection he cast in its liquor and smiled, trying to process what he was about to do.

Making way with pushing the case under his bed, he grabbed his 2 pieces of luggage and started to roll them out of his bedroom quietly, glancing at the clock. 2:03 AM. Seems like a good time, if any he thought as he made his way out to his car, shutting the door behind him, the faint smell of chili still wafting out of the house from the open window. It was a warm night for early November, and now that Sunday was over, his mother’s birthday was well on the way to becoming his only feasible memory, much to his chagrin.

On second thought, his mind reminded him, my brain is being quite fuzzy. I already called the taxi service. They’re picking me up at 8. I’ll just leave my luggage in here and visit Mom now.

That’s right. Visiting his mother’s grave in the middle of the night.

Starting his car after making his way out in a half-asleep daze, he backed out, 105.9 the X on and Metallica playing out of his Infinity speakers. His volcano red Kia Rondo made its way smoothly down the road, the half-mile that it needed to drive to get to the graveyard. Luckily, from where he moved, it wasn’t very far now, so he could go visit any time that he wanted to…illegally, of course. Hoping to hell he wouldn’t get caught, he turned onto the drive, passing hundreds upon hundreds of plot sights, driving past the mausoleum, which had one lonely light on in its office. Devin hoped it wasn’t security, because he knew they couldn’t just hang up random cameras on gravestones, spying on people, preventing séances.

That would be quite a job, wouldn’t it? Like one of those creepy gravediggers from that chick flick, Now and Then, the ones that linger around the graveyard, looking for 12-year old girls with candles.

Moving on, his mind drifted as he finally reached the huge fireman’s plaque, the one that signified where not only his mother was buried, but his grandmother (who had died 2 months after his mother) and his grandfather (who had died 14 years previously from Alzheimer’s). Trying his best not to fall flat on his face, the slick grass coated his sneakers with moisture as he walked down the hill, locking his Rondo without the beep going off.

He flashed his keychain LED flashlight towards the site, stepping over his aunt and uncle’s future plot site and making his way to his mother’s:

Willow Jane Kinney. September 23, 1953 to November 2, 2008. Loving mother.

Devin had been in charge of designing her tiny plot, so he chose a set of praying hands (because that’s one thing she always believed in), modern lettering (unlike the round lettering on his grandparents’ plot right above hers) and a set of dogwood flowers (since that was the plant that he always remembered most as a child, mainly because it was right at the head of their driveway above their crappy garden). He thought it was simple, yet appropriate. Her ashes were buried just below, in a water-resistant non-biodegradable box, the way the Catholic church approved.

“Hey Mom,” he said quietly, sitting down Indian-style in front of the plot, leaning over full throttle to the front to kiss the front of her grave, “How are you doing?”

He normally did this when he visited the grave, so he never considered having a conversation with his deceased parent that unusual. His dad, though, did. That was really one subject that they didn’t discuss; it would send his dad into an emotional wreck.

“I’m early today…” he sighed, his face still dangerously close to the cold bronze plate, “Hope you don’t mind.”

Knowing that she couldn’t answer, “I don’t know why I’m asking really…” he sighed, then let his mind wander as the air whipped a chill at his skin.

“Can you believe it’s been a year?” he asked, then laughed at his own question, “That’s what everybody’s been asking me. I don’t know if I’m gonna get any calls, wishing me the best, sorry I’ve lost my mom, I miss her everyday…” he rattled off quotes that he had been hearing all year, “Well, let me see if I can answer that for you, because you might even be asking it…”

“Can I believe it’s been a year? Yeah. Sometimes I can,” he rolled on his back, watching the deep gray clouds roll against the black sky, stars poking out at random, “Some days aren’t easy. Like your birthday. Or Gram’s…did I tell you I was in a car accident on Gram’s birthday?” he laughed again, “It’s not really funny, you know…well, you would know about the accident. You and Gram protected me.”

He thought back to the time barely 2 months ago that he was with his friends, pulling out onto a main street in a town he wasn’t even familiar with to take them home when he got t-boned by a Jeep Grand Cherokee. He, at the time, was driving his 2001 Chevrolet Cavalier, pretty much the only thing that he had inherited from his mother (since they lived with his grandmother, which he had just lost as well). The driver of the other car claimed to be going 28-30 miles per hour, but from the extent of damage done to his car, being the front end was completely pushed off the front mount, there was no possible way. On the other hand, because he was the one that pulled into the intersection, even though he stopped at the stop sign, and the oncoming traffic did not have a stop sign, the police department had to assign blame to somebody, and that somebody just so happened to be him.

“Saved my life, that’s what you two did. Never stopped helping me, did you, Mom?” he asked, suddenly feeling a couple tears surface in his eyes but quickly suppressed them, “I’m not sad,” and he sighed all over again, preparing his emotional speech in his head, improv-ing it as he went, “I’m not sad that you’re gone. Well, I am sad, but I’m not sad all the time. I don’t really know how to feel about it. I think about you every day, which I bet you’re already aware of…but it’s more general thoughts than ‘man, I miss her’.”

He rubbed his tired face with his hands, still looking up at the fast-moving cumulus patterns in the sky, “I just…” he mumbled, turning back around on his stomach, not caring if his clothes got completely soaked, or if the sky would open up and pour down snow on top of him, burying his body next to hers, “I do miss you…”

“It just…it just seems selfish of me to ever wish you were still here. If you were still here, you’d still be suffering. You’d still have cancer…you’d still be suffering so much…” his breathing became hard as he lie his head on the cool grass in front of her plot, “I never wanted that. I don’t want to be selfish. I wouldn’t bring you back, even if I had the power, because what if what happened to you reoccurred? You would just sick all over again? Is that worth it?”

“I’m going to Dad’s today…” he bit his lip, tasting the grass in-between his teeth and smelling the damp dirt that was still loose around the bronze, “Yearly trip this year. Crazy, huh? The last time he called…he said he was glad to have me as a son. Probably the first time he’s ever said that to me…”

“He’s been telling me he loves me too,” he brushed away some of the stray grass off the plate, only to have it adhere itself right back to its face, “Weird to hear. Just…weird.”

“Mom…” once again, speaking slowly, Devin looked up at her plot, and then up to his grandparents, “Hi, Gram. Miss you too.”

He could almost hear her deep, laughing voice singing in the way that she used to, trying to get him to cheer up. He could see her form, which he believed is the way that they looked to him, the time that they were happiest. His mother was always the way she was about 5 months before she passed, her glasses perched on her face, her pageboy-style haircut with the salt-and-pepper shading, and 120 pounds shed off her frame, smiling. His grandmother he could see in her chubbier days, around the time he had first starting dating Mel in 2005.

“Speaking of Mel…” he sighed, “Bet you didn’t know she was cheating on me, did you?” he laughed a quick, spiteful laugh, “Don’t worry. I’m not with her anymore…”

Rolling back on his back, his eyes continued to follow the clouds, “I do miss you, though. And…I love you…”

And his consciousness began to slip as he laid there, curling into his left arm and finding solace, as well as sleep, with his dear, deceased mother.

the temperature drops and your heart stops

Wed, 18 Nov 2009 08:24:21 GMT

Check that out. Halfway past. I'm proud. I wrote up a storm. I did...over 3,000 tonight. I'm not too far behind now. I'm at a good spot and I'm full of fatigue, so I'm gonna ruminate on it. For now, enjoy Chapter 3, and please, feedback! This is quite a funny one :)

Title: Arcadia Divergent
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, alcohol usage and references, sexual references
Summary: Devin Kinney is a normal 20-something tortured emo kid with reason, but with his belief in the occult, his fantasies go a bit haywire. With a trip to the beach to visit his estranged father, he becomes fascinated by just watching a woman-like creature emerging from the waters of California...until she finally approaches him.
Word count of this installment: 1,291
Word count to date: 26,366

Lying on the futon in the den, absentmindedly strumming his electric guitar, he relished the feel of the vibrations shaking through to his stomach. It took his mind off the conversation that had just taken place between him and Brooke. She was now doing the dishes in the sink, sticking her foot in her mouth too late.

It was the truth. He held the fact against himself that his mother passed away the 1 hour out of 48 he went to go home and shower, then went to his favorite local Italian deli to get a pepperoni roll and pasta salad. Why couldn’t have waited? His mind had slipped, with Mallory being his guest, trying her best to comfort him, but to absolutely no avail. He thought food might clear his whole family’s mind, so not only did he get pepperoni rolls and pasta salad, he got about a pound of assorted antipasti, including fresh mozzarella balls, Italian-style garlic mushrooms, cippolini onions drenched in balsamic vinegar and roasted garlic cloves, a loaf each of pepperoni and mushroom bread, and Krab salad. And once he stepped into the store, the words slipped out:

“I wish Mom were here. She loved these kinds of places.”

Little did he knew, she already was.

He knew for a fact that the time she passed away was for a reason. She hadn’t wanted him to see that kind of pain. Some things were just meant to be. All those promises that he made her, months in advance of her passing, with closure, planning for the funeral, they still held firm that week of her wake, but he still felt that undeniable tug that he should have been there. That was what a good child did; be there. He betrayed his own mother, and he didn’t know if he would ever be able to forgive himself.

Knowing firm and well his hands had a mind of their own, he started strumming a frantic pattern of chords in the style of punk, and singing the words to “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga, finding the words easily fit into a punk style, like the Ramones.

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

He felt silly even doing it, but he was now beginning to hear the beat hit it more, and no matter how silly it may have sounded on guitar alone, he was getting into it. Especially after the “ga-ga-ooh-la-la” then the deliberate stop of his playing and yelling, punk-style, “Want your bad romance!”

I want your ugly, I want your disease
I want your everything as long as it’s free
I want your love
(Love-love-love I want your love)

I want your drama, the touch of your hand
I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand
I want your love
Love-love-love I want your love
(Love-love-love I want your love)

You know that I want you
And you know that I need you
I want it bad, your bad romance

The more he played, the more he could hear another guitar and a mad crazy set of drums behind him.

I want your love and I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
(Oh-oh-oh--oh-oooh!)
I want your love and all your lovers' revenge
You and me could write a bad romance

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

I want your horror, I want your design
‘Cause you’re a criminal as long as your mine
I want your love
(Love-love-love I want your love-uuhh)

I want your psycho, your vertigo stick
Want you in my rear window; baby you’re sick
I want your love
Love-love-love I want your love
(Love-love-love I want your love)

More pauses filtered throughout, especially during the line “baby you’re sick”, yelling it again in punk-style. His eyes closed as his fingers were still strumming frantically.

You know that I want you
('Cause I'm a freak bitch baby!)
And you know that I need you
I want a bad, bad romance

I want your love and I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
(Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!)
I want your love and all your lovers' revenge
You and me could write a bad romance

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

Now here was where he knew it would get funky, and if he were only accompanied by a band, his band, the Blind Jaywalkers, they would have killed this song. Maybe he would have to bring this up next practice.

Walk, walk fashion baby
Work it, move that bitch crazy

Walk, walk fashion baby
Work it, move that bitch crazy

Walk, walk fashion baby
Work it, move that bitch crazy

Walk, walk fashion baby
Work it, I'm a freak bitch, baby

I want your love and
I want your revenge
I want your love
I don’t wanna be friends
J'adore l'amour
Et je veux ton revenge
J'adore l'amour
I don’t wanna be friends
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
I don’t wanna be friends
(Caught in a bad romance)
I don’t wanna be friends
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Want your bad romance
(Caught in a bad romance)
Want your bad romance!

I want your love and
I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
I want your love and
All your lovers' revenge
You and me could write a bad romance

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Want your bad romance
(Caught in a bad romance)
Want your bad romance

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Want your bad romance
(Caught in a bad romance)

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

As the song finished, he heard a set of feet walking down the stairs and Corey’s freshly washed head peered down, frantically creating friction to dry his curly mop, “Dude, that was kick ass! Did you write that?”

“That’s Lady Gaga, you dumb fuck!” Brooke laughed, “You gonna bring that up to your band…what’s their name again?”

“The Blind Jaywalkers!” Devin yelled up, the weight of the guitar returning to his stomach as he was content with its presence.

“Kick ass!” Corey exclaimed, “I came down to play some of the X-Box. Do you mind?”

“Go ahead, the couch is huge,” Devin moved his feet out of the way.

“Corey! Please, dry off the floor before you leave the bathroom! It’s like I’m walking into a flood puddle! How many times have I told you this?”

“Brooke, at least it’s better than seeing a full garbage bag of bloody tampons!”

Devin tried his best to ignore his cousins fighting, AGAIN, as Corey barely had time to turn the system on and he had to head back upstairs to clean after himself. But as soon as he got up there, she was still yelling.

“And would you mind putting some CLOTHES on? You’re my brother. I don’t give a shit whether you wear boxers or briefs. Keep that to yourself!”

He didn’t know how long it would take Corey to dry the outside of the tub out, because Devin knew well the times he slipped on the bathroom after Corey’s showers. He was pretty sure his cousin showered with the curtain on the outside. That was the only reasonable explanation his tiring mind could come up with.

With the soft hum of the TV coming through and his belly full, Devin closed his eyes and put his mind to work, perfecting chord progressions, beat changes, and appropriate rests for the future cover song, drifting off to a quick after-dinner nap.

eck

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 05:44:43 GMT

Word count is getting a little bit easier. I've written a lot in 3 days. Hopefully, it will end up being even more over the rest of the night. God knows I need the catch-up time. Enjoy, and leave feedback, please!

Title: Arcadia Divergent
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, alcohol usage and references, sexual references
Summary: Devin Kinney is a normal 20-something tortured emo kid with reason, but with his belief in the occult, his fantasies go a bit haywire. With a trip to the beach to visit his estranged father, he becomes fascinated by just watching a woman-like creature emerging from the waters of California...until she finally approaches him.
Word count of this installment: 1,764
Word count to date: 16,165

Twenty minutes later, Corey had been through 3 bowls of chili and 4 pieces of cornbread after burning his hand, practically mauling the loaf with his claws before he realized he should have cut it with the spatula lying nearby. Brooke had finally come out of the other room, finishing her conversation with Mallory, her LG Versa lying on her bed back in her room, when she gasped.

“GUYS! Save me some, for Christ’s sakes!”

“If you weren’t busy yakking, you would be where we are.”

“Eww, what in the hell did you do to the sour cream?” she looked at the container, which was red, “Did you dip your nasty ‘I stuck it in my Chlamydia-ridden mouth’ fork in here?” she sighed, “You prick. You didn’t even save me any in an extra dish like I asked you to.”

“There’s an extra pint in the fridge,” Devin said in-between bites of spicy chicken.

“Thank you!” she came over and kissed him on the cheek, then backed away awkwardly, walking past slowly, “You’re…the best…”

“Awkward,” Corey mouthed to Devin, “Why do you have to be the good one?” his volume returned as Brooke got a bowl out of the cupboard.

“Because, brother, he’s not a complete douche-bag.”

“And I am?”

“Yes.”

“I’m just trying to make up for you guys letting me live here. Sorry I have to leave tomorrow,” he sighed, letting his spoon dig into the cumin-filled sauce. He felt his stomach rumbling with the entrance of the peppers into his lower intestine. Great, tonight’s going to be wonderful.

“Dude, it’s alright. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen your dad. How is…how is Uncle Roy?” Corey asked quietly. Devin’s dad wasn’t his uncle by blood, but he still called him Uncle Roy. Devin appreciated the gesture.

“Okay. I’m actually glad I’m going this year. Ever since I lost Mom, he’s been calling more. And not just for confirming plane tickets and car rental information,” Devin sighed, stirring his spoon around absentmindedly, “Maybe he actually wants to act like he has a son.”

“About damn time, huh? How long’s it been since he moved out there, anyway?”

“12 years ago…” Devin sighed, “Are you sure you guys don’t want to go out there with me tomorrow?”

“We couldn’t get tickets for that flight. We’ll be out in a few days. Somehow, someway, we will…Brooke will bring her GPS, right?”

“Right,” she smiled, holding her steaming bowl of chili, loaded with cheddar cheese and a dollop of sour cream right on top, carefully balancing her lonely piece of cornbread on top.

“Then we’ll figure out where in the hell we’re going.”

“That gives me a couple days to put in my extensions,” she smiled, finally sitting down at the far end of the table, “And I’ll be able to get a real tan again!”

“Oh great, not only do we get to deal with her,” Corey sighed, “But she’ll develop melanoma while she’s at it.”

“Not from just a couple days,” she stared daggers at him while she lifted her spoon full of chili into her mouth, “Mmm…so good. Good job, as usual, Devin!”

“Thanks,” Devin replied quietly as he finished his 2nd bowl in peace while Corey and Brooke idly carried on conversation.

Once Brooke was done with her bowl and went for a refill, the last amount of the double batch Devin had made, she said quietly holding the bowl in her palms, “I miss Aunt Willow. I can’t believe it’s been a year.”

“I can,” Devin replied, his voice full of hidden angst.

“Devin, I know it’s been tough on you,” Brooke looked over at her cousin, at a deep loss for words, “But she was sick so long. She’s been sick since you were a kid. She’s in a better place now.”

“All I can think about is what I went through the night before she died,” his plate was long empty and the more he spoke, the more he wanted the Jolt that he hid deep in the fridge.

“Oh, don’t do that, Dev,” she walked back with her refilled bowl, stopping to place her hand on his shoulder, “You’re just going to get upset.”

“It’s okay to get upset about it,” he sighed, “I hate it when people say not to get upset about it. It’s my fucking MOTHER, for Christ’s sakes! I lost my fucking MOTHER!”

Brooke immediately retracted her hand, noticing some of the scars on his arm from where he had tried to commit suicide and flinched. She never liked to think of the serious side of her cousin, the side that scared her into submission. She never liked to think that somebody could be going through so much inner pain that she could never assist them with her bubbly yet vapid personality. She was aware of it yet hated that she ended up this way. But then again, now that she was aware, did that mean she was vapid?

Yes. Yes it did.

She never liked to think of Aunt Willow. It brought back so many mixed memories. Aunt Willow was withdrawn, mostly because she did not want to bother the family with her illness, even in her remission times. During family events, if they would ask her to do things, she would immediately decline, despite their best wishes to still keep her included in activities. After a couple years of trying, they gave up, and from what Brooke had seen, they had given up on Devin before he even became an adult. Luckily, he integrated himself enough into the family to the point that they didn’t get suspicious that he was becoming a loner.

“I’m sorry,” she let slip out of her lips, moving away from her cousin.

“It’s alright, Brooke, just…it’s okay to let me be upset about it,” he tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but was completely unsuccessful. He knew he wasn’t about to cry, but he knew his speech would become heavily emotional, which is the last thing he wanted before he took his Cymbalta. Maybe it was for the best, “Just…let me be upset.”

“Ok,” she replied shortly, sitting back down, now not knowing what to do at all. After a few minutes of silence and Corey’s exit to his bedroom, Brooke looked over at Devin, who was daydreaming, clanking his spoon against the empty bowl and pushing around crumbs of cornbread, “Do you want to tell me?”

“Huh?” his eyes looked up, but he still looked like he was half-asleep.

“What you went through the night before she died…that was the night before I got there, right?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out slowly and the timbre of his voice got an octave deeper, “I threw a Halloween party at our house, just a few friends from college, and Mal…”

“Oh yeah…” she bit her lip, instantly uncomfortable, “I should have thought about that before I answered the phone. I must seem like a total bitch for still being friends with your ex, right?”

“No, it doesn’t make you a bitch,” he replied mechanically. Still trying to forget his first love, he plunged himself back into his story and the conversation when she had first arrived in the house that evening became a back-burner pain, “It just makes her the bitch, trying to mooch off my cousin.”

“Mooch? What would she be mooching?”

“Never mind,” he took a deep breath, almost a sigh, and continued, “Anyway. Halloween party. Alcoholic fun. 5 of my friends slept over, including Mel. Aunt Pat called at 8:30 the next morning and woke me up, telling me Mom was calling out for me and to come, saying she had a bad feeling. I pretty much had to shoo everybody out of the apartment and rush over to the nursing home. Well, as you already know,” he paused, letting his spoon drop, “I stayed there all day while everybody else was around, fighting off sleep, just so she knew I was there, but I spent the night as well, and that’s when I lost it. I was screaming at God. I was screaming, and I don’t even think any of the aides or the other residents that were nearby even gave a shit. I’m glad she had a single room, otherwise I might have gotten punched in the face by an old lady.”

“You would NOT have gotten punched in the face by an old lady!” Brooke suddenly laughed, glad the situation was slightly diffused by humor.

“Theoretically speaking, if an old lady were to just jump out of bed and yell ‘shut up, young man!’, I would have gotten punched,” now he couldn’t control the laughter coming out of his contracted lungs, hurting from the memories that had conspired that night, “I’m sure it would have happened if the ability were present.”

“Punching, old ladies, that’s a big fat no.”

“No…” his expression then sank again as he was now remembering the pinnacle of his misery, “All fucking day I watched her have seizures, off and on, 10 minutes long every couple hours. Didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Didn’t drink any water. She would stop breathing, not breathe for 30 seconds, a minute, a minute and a half, and then suddenly gasp for air. What in the hell do they call that?”

“I think they call it Cheyne-Stokes respirations,” Brooke tried desperately to remember from her medical terminology class.

“And the death rattle. The fucking death rattle,” he buried his head in his hands briefly, trying to take a moment before he could speak again. After relishing the breaths that he could take into his lungs, unlike his mother, he lifted his head, “I yelled at God, wondering why he made her suffer like that. That’s the last time I ever heard Mom speak.”

“Oh Aunt Willow…” she gasped softly, biting her lip as she looked at her cousin with pity and felt honestly sorry for his, and her own, loss.

“She said, ‘I’m okay, don’t cry’, but I couldn’t help it…I just kept crying, at 3:30 in the morning, unable to sleep, because if I woke up, and she was gone…” he mumbled into the chili bowl, “…I would never forgive myself.”

“Dev…” Brooke spoke softly, “Do you still hold it against yourself that Aunt Willow…passed on…while you were out getting a shower and dinner the night we were all there?”

His eyes were red as he looked up at his cousin, feeling further away from her than ever, “How could I not?”

walk, walk, passion baby

Thu, 12 Nov 2009 04:54:53 GMT

2 nights changes everything, apparently. I'm now 4 chapters in. Thanks, cinnamonspite for the feedback. It's my first non-Hanfic in a long time. But the good news is that I'm concocting a rewrite for one of my older fics, "Right Here". :-D I hope you all will like it.

And here's s'more of Arcadia Divergent.

Title: Arcadia Divergent
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, alcohol usage and references, sexual references
Summary: Devin Kinney is a normal 20-something tortured emo kid with reason, but with his belief in the occult, his fantasies go a bit haywire. With a trip to the beach to visit his estranged father, he becomes fascinated by just watching a woman-like creature emerging from the waters of California...until she finally approaches him.
Word count of this installment: 1,885
Word count to date: 8,098

November 1, 2009

“Ah shit!”

“Ah shit, what, Corey?”

From the view that was on his face, Corey Preston looked as if he was in a pickle. Biting his lip, his freshly buzzed hair licked with sweat from a hard day’s work, he popped down the hood on the 1997 Chevy Beretta in front of him, the noise disturbingly loud for the time of night, “You’re gonna need to call AAA.”

“Why?”

“The car’s battery is dead. Didn’t you CarFax this thing? Fuckin’ a.”

“They had it cheap…” the voice called from the driver’s seat, and a car door slammed shut as a young girl in a pink hooded zip-up sweatshirt came out to look at the steam bellowing from the engine, “God damnit.”

“Looks like the battery on this thing has never been replaced. Shit, you’re lucky it lasted you this long. How long you had this car, Brooke?”

“5 months,” she was chattering her teeth. It was cold and they were getting over beers at the local dive bar. One stroke of luck happened to be the breakdown of the mid-sized car in front of their house, “You know what? This isn’t that big of a deal. I can get Dad to run me out. I’m off tomorrow, so it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“He’s not working at the shop tomorrow, is he?”

“Maybe he is…” she bit her lip, “He’ll get me a battery, right?”

“I guess so. Let’s go get s’more beers and fuckin’ forget the car for the night. If you need to go anywhere before the battery, I’ll take you. But I need gas money.”

“You’re lucky we can afford electric, shithead,” Brooke winced at her brother.

“Well we can, thanks to Devin.”

“Ah, Devin…what would we do without our freaky little cousin?”

“Dude, don’t talk about Devin like that.”

“You have to admit it, though!”

“Just because he listens to that heavy metal shit?”

“No…” Brooke’s voice faded out uncomfortably, wondering where her next words were going to take her, “Because…he’s just weird, that’s why! I’ve never met a guy like him before. I don’t know how we ever could be cousins with a guy like that. He’s just so…”

“Well, when he and I were on yearbook, he was quiet. After his mom died, he just kinda lost it. His dad’s not really been the figure of authority in his life.”

“What does this have to do with anything, Corey?” Brooke was now bouncing around, her breath coming out in quick bursts of cold smoke, “I’m fucking freezing. Can we get inside?”

“I gotta find the key, woman!”

“Dimwit.”

“Filthy bitch.”

The brother-sister pair made their way up to the house door, Corey reaching on his pant loop for the multiple keys and searching, through slightly blurry vision, for the house key. Slightly drunk, he turned the key in the lock, with Brooke leaning on his back for support and laughing. The lights were on in the house, which meant that Devin was inside, unpacking most likely. Their newest housemate, Corey’s cousin Devin Kinney, was a touch out of the loop for even Corey’s taste, but where else could he go? He was family, and he and Corey were getting closer the older they got. Brooke would just have to deal with it.

Brooke was not really close to the boy cousins of the family. There were a ton of girl cousins she had, so she never really got to spend much time with Devin, the only child of her estranged uncle and aunt. They literally had no classes together in high school, but from what Corey would always say about his cousin, he was a decent member of the drama club and yearbook, which took up a bit of his after-school time. He also hung out a lot with the stoners, which was pretty much the only time that she got to see him. Every once in a while, once a month maybe as she could remember, she would sit out on the steps in the back of the school and he would be there with 4-5 other guys and girls, puffing a shared joint. She knew for a fact that was the reason he got mono, which got him suspended for 2 weeks and out of school for almost 2 months.

That would show her for being rebellious.

Devin Kelley, after high school, changed. His mother grew ill in his first 2-3 years of college, where he majored in music. He jumped around majors for a while, first dipping his toes into being a music educator, then a music therapist, focusing on vocal performance. After changing majors, he fell into a depression his sophomore year, still working his hardest, but skipping class more frequently, only taking showers once a week and giving himself a “Mexican bath” as his friends called it (lots of Axe deodorant), eating one giant meal a week and not shaving. Recovering his junior year, he returned full force to full-time class work, going off campus to work in the field for practicum’s at assigned nursing homes, special educational schools, and affiliations for the mentally handicapped. From what he heard through the grapevine, Corey didn’t know if Devin was entirely happy. He did seem to delve into the guitar after he had been tinkering with it since childhood, but it wasn’t until college that he re-picked it up, first with acoustic, and then his electric, striking out power chords that could shake the campus walls.

Reforming the band he used to play in, the Blind Jaywalkers, they returned to earning some money playing in local dive bars and dances on campus and for local high schools.

That is, until the end of junior year, when his mother got sick.

Corey’s Aunt Willow had taken the front burner since the return of her long-standing cancer. Uncle Roy, however, did not. He was able to graduate college with a simple Bachelor of Arts in Music, but not the music therapy he began. With his part-time job being able to sustain him, his mother progressed from mildly sick to constant extensive care. He, at that point, taught himself how to be her caregiver, even though she had part-time help coming in. There were some things that he had to do himself. He would have never imagined he would have to put a catheter inside his mother’s meatus. Something like that would have given him the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it, but if it meant his mother could live longer, he would do anything.

To no avail. Tomorrow, the date of his annual pilgrimage to California, where Corey’s Uncle Roy Kinney lived, would mark the 1-year anniversary of his mother’s passing. At times like these, he would just reflect. He was not much of a crier, but once in a while, he would work himself into it, and usually then, he would hide in the shower to disguise his sobs with the strain of the splashing water.

After his mother passed, his father offered him a place out in California, especially since Devin had been making yearly pilgrimages to visit him. Politely declining, Devin tried to afford his place for almost a year, but after a few months of skipping the bills and being able to have his power and heat turned back on, he decided to talk to Corey and Brooke. Who better to move in with than family, right?

The lock clicked and with the door opening, they heard the TV faintly on from the other room. From what he remembered, Devin wanted to cook them a ‘thank you’ dinner, and he could smell it. A spicy crock-pot full of chicken, black bean and corn chili was bubbling away on the counter, a pan full of still-steaming hot cornbread sitting on the cooling rack nearby.

“Dev! We’re home!”

A few moments passed, then brief shuffling and rolling of wheels were heard through the house, along the hardwood floors of the hallway, and then muted when Devin rolled over the carpeting, giving an unusual smile with his hardened face, wearing a long-sleeved white shirt underneath his black Green Day ‘heart grenade’ tour t-shirt, “’Sup?”

“That fuckin’ smells good, man,” Corey lifted the lid on the crock pot and took a deep sniff, “Not too spicy for Brooke, right?”

“Like you give a shit, dude,” Devin replied, knowing the words felt so uncustomary and foreign on his tongue, he practically spit them out like watermelon seeds, “It’s chicken so she’ll eat it,” and he turned towards his blonde cousin, “Which, by the way, why do you not like beef again?”

“I do like beef! I just don’t like the way ground beef tastes…” she sighed, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears, hating how it flopped out as soon as she did it, mainly because of the length. Suddenly, a strong techno beat was echoing throughout the relatively quiet home and Brooke stuck a hand inside her jean pocket. The words “damn, youz a sexy bitch” kept bouncing around their eardrums until she answered her phone, “Hey Mal!...yeah…nah, just got some beers with Corey…god, I know, I spend way too much damn time with him. So what’s up girl?”

“I’m offended by that!” Corey shouted as she proceeded to walk down the hall to get some more privacy. Corey sighed. He could never understand how his sister turned out to be such a fake Valley Girl type, unlike all her female cousins. She’s the only one that decided to dye her hair to differ from the family as well.

“Fuck you, a-hole!” she stuck her middle finger up as she was walking down the hall, her pants riding low on her hips so both the gentlemen could see her blue thong underwear.

“I hate that woman…”

“Don’t hate your sister. That’s a sin.”

“I don’t care, dude,” Corey sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair. For being cousins, Corey and Devin looked years and years apart, even though they were only a few months apart in age. Corey had matured to look like someone almost 30, as Devin stayed baby-faced and innocent for his age, barely passing for 20. Corey thought it was nice, but only when he was with his guy cousins. With his very sister, their differing looks brought strangers to believe they were dating, not blood-related. The very thought made him shiver.

“Thinking about how your sister has been told she looks like your quote unquote ‘fuck buddy’ again?”

“Dude, shut the fuck up about that!” Corey covered his ears, “Seriously. Heebie-jeebies.”

“Who says that anymore?”

“Me, that’s who,” Corey sat down, too tempted to remove the lid from the chili and start chowing down on it with the wooden mixing spoon next to it.

“That’s too bad, dude,” Devin crossed his arms, “You make a cute couple.”

“Thanks a lot, emo creeper,” Corey punched his cousin mockingly on his arm, “I don’t give a shit how good your fuckin’ chili is, shut up about that Brooke thing. Creepy, creeper. Creepy.”

“Just cause I wear black and I have dark hair does NOT mean I’m emo.”

“But it makes you a creeper,” Corey laughed, “C’mon, let’s eat without the bitch.”

So...

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 07:12:55 GMT

I'm in the process of catching the fuck up. With my mother's 1-year death-iversary (is that a word?), the electric being shut off, and me just being distracted, I could just boot myself with a metal rod, seriously. But I'm getting my ass in gear now. So, for your reading pleasure, here's the prologue to my lovely fic (which just got named tonight). And please! Let me know what you think!

Title: Arcadia Divergent
Rating: R
Warnings: Language, alcohol usage and references, sexual references
Summary: Devin Kinney is a normal 20-something tortured emo kid with reason, but with his belief in the occult, his fantasies go a bit haywire. With a trip to the beach to visit his estranged father, he becomes fascinated by just watching a woman-like creature emerging from the waters of California...until she finally approaches him.
Word count of this installment: 450
Word count to date: 1,966

June 25, 2001

“I have never before witnessed such an incredible sight.”

Something called out to the young fisherman to stay away, and that is exactly what he did. In his large, black fishing boots, dressed to the hilt and practically draped in fishing wire and lures, his back turned away from the strewn body lying by the crag, feeling his heart pull.

“One of God’s creatures…” his glance turned back to that of the woman’s body, blue like the ocean, seeming to be completely void of life, “Taken.”

Well within his grasp, he walked back and leaned down to her level. His gruff hand brushed back the hair of the woman, still wet from the tide. Once his eyes settled and his heart seemed to slow down at the sight of her body, he noticed something peculiar on the woman’s body.

Along with a hear beat. And now, a deep gasp of breath escaped her lips.

“Impossible! The woman’s pallor is that of the dead!”

Cerulean-tinted skin shimmered, the water still clinging to her hairless arms, as her form lifted its heavy head out of the sand it was buried in. Sand came pouring out of her mouth and clung to her tongue as she choked on the air around her.

The lucky fisherman, by chance, had a canteen with fresh water in it and helped the woman sit upright, propping her up against the rock that was shading her from the late day’s sun. Water from the tide lapped over the bottom half of her body, the tint of her legs remaining a deep blue-gray shade. Her body shone to blend her into her watery surroundings. Hair, silky and wet, lay limp on her shoulders, covered in sand and seaweed that was linked between the wet strands. The man tilted her neck back, uncomfortably, as the woman moaned in pain as he poured some of the liquid down her parched throat.

“You will thank me later,” he tried to speak as she gulped the water. As soon as there were a few good swallows in her mouth, she immediately coughed them back up and gasped for air. He noticed that her eyes were not that of a normal woman. Now that he was aware of the situation, sensing his present situation, nothing about the woman was normal. The tint of her epidermis, the shape of her feet and hands as they desperately grabbed at his own to cling to her bit of life straining in her lungs, not to mention the mere hue of her intense eyes that sent chills up and down his spine.

He knew, then, that he had discovered something huge.

NaNoWriMo 09 :-D

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 06:14:26 GMT

I know I haven't been around much. But on the horizon for me, scheming and planning for my 2nd bout at NaNoWriMo.

Hopefully, this time will go as well as last year. I finished at 57,000+ words, but I started with a basis idea. This time, I'm starting completely fresh, aside from the character planning.

I need to update this damn thing. hehe.

And I'll keep you guys updated on the story.

she-wolf in your closet

Wed, 05 Aug 2009 04:04:53 GMT

wow, crazy stuff

That's not too far from me. Crazy.

But I guess I'm an insensitive bitch. I totally had a Daria moment. (it doesn't help that I found Daria on YouTube, yes?)

I was passing by a billboard for Healthy Inspirations and I thought, "Damn, I wonder how much memberships cost..."

Maybe I should just stay fat :-P I'd rather be fat than shot.

But seriously now, I'm praying for everybody in Bridgeville and the surrounding areas.

My job is nuts, by the way. It's not one of those ones you're in love with. Ever. I like it, but I don't think I'll ever totally love it. It's hard. Damn hard. But being a nurse aide is rewarding.

why am i so bad at updating?

Mon, 27 Jul 2009 03:31:21 GMT

So you know those silicon roll-up keyboards? Yeah,I own one now. They're a royal pain in the ass. Need to find a solution before my fingers start hurting...

I'm impatient...I'll update better later.

ehh

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 04:51:44 GMT

Figured I should update. Damn, it's been a while...

I quit GE. Figured it was time. I've been at the Manor for over a month now. Nurse Aide classes start Monday. I'm getting psyched, even though I come home exhausted sometimes. It's not that the work is extrordinarily hard, but it's just time-consuming. It'll get harder...

I must go write, I have a Spark Inside challenge to write for. I'm paired with the other Sarah teehee.

can't get over losing you

Sun, 31 May 2009 05:38:19 GMT

So, anybody who's read The Edge (and if you haven't, you need to: you can go here. I finally spit out Chapter 7 (it's been in progress for a while) and now have a semi-confident direction to it now. I'm not going to give any hints, so here it is.

Chapter Seven: Con Questa Bella Morte

The wind stilled. The water stopped. Everything in our surroundings was completely frozen in place, almost as if in a painting. Phoebe barely had to lift a finger to create that power, but I could tell she had done it in an instant.

She had stopped the flow of time. Or at least to my changing human eyes, all the water surrounding us.

“Zachary, this is my greatest power…” she looked, her eyes overflowing with things that I now recognized as tears, “It will not last long. The power that He has lent me is my final act. My celestial life…is over…”

“NO!”

My body felt like it sunk into the rock, becoming one with it. Instantly, the world collapsed around me, with her simple words. Everything that I now knew to be true felt like it was being taken away from me. My hands, connected to the gloves of Vulcan, instantly began to liquefy the rock and since the waters were still, it dissolved practically underneath my fingers. The movement caused the rock to completely dissipate, Phoebe and I sinking into the still waters of the Canadian falls. We sunk straight down to the bottom, her descent much slower than mine. I practically sunk down to the bottom, like an anchor to the bottom of the sea, and now found the ability to breathe an impossibility. My insides burned and my mouth opened, the water not moving into it, but still no air able to enter. I could see Phoebe above me, her garments floating around her, like she were a pool of liquid heaven coming to my rescue. The way the light refracted through the water, the beams bouncing off every available surface of her, I wanted more of it. I wanted her under my skin, I wanted her to be my air.

I was hers. Completely and irrevocably.

My world was growing black with the lack of any life in my body, but I still felt the lift of Phoebe’s power bringing me back to the surface. Her touch I did not feel on my skin, but I felt her spirit moving me closer and closer to kiss the surface of the lapping water. I gasped for air like I was able to breathe and felt it gush into my lungs, but it wasn’t good enough. My surroundings were still swirling and black, like I was being chained down to the base of the river, and from the liquefied rock, which she quickly solidified, I could swear the magma were creeping its way down my esophagus. There was another small rock at the edge of the fall’s bottom where she laid me. The kiss of life was administered back into me with her fingertips. I felt the icy cold drift enter my system, quickly rejuvenating me, but it wasn’t enough. I needed a “kiss” of life. I needed HER kiss of life.

Not even remembering what a kiss fully was, her lips were on mine and my mind felt like it was instantly placed on the Polar Ice Caps, the chill fighting with the heat in my demon body, battling for supremacy. My eyes opened as the angel’s face hovered over mine, smiling brightly as her golden hair almost glowed around her, the earthly image of a halo immediately coming to my brain. Such an ill-fitting description to be certain, but now that my brain was so warped by Earth-bound fact, it was all I could seem to bring to mind.

“The time is here. Your thoughts have mutated too far into the human realm. It must be done.”

“No, I refuse,” my head bounced back into the rock, breaking it, and I instantly felt the pain in my skull. So many human thoughts entered my mind at that very moment of breaking the rock that I even questioned my demonic humanity and let out a mighty yell. It wasn’t really a yell as it was a call to the depths of my personal hell.

“FUCK!”

Nobody around could hear it, but my voice sent a ripple through the night-reflected waters, still and calm. A mighty ripple flooded through, so much that the earth shook underneath; cracking the rock underneath me and sending mighty waves that moved the river itself onto the other shores. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t hear, all I felt was pain. All I knew was pain. And her. All I knew was pain and Phoebe. Phoebe and pain…

2 things that never, ever went together.

“You’re bleeding…” she gasped in deep shock. Suddenly, the world came crashing back on me. I could hear her, and I could almost see her. Her voice crashed through me like the waves around us, mighty and unquestionable. I knew the crack in the rock had to be deep and her tears were pouring down her face quickly, crystallizing into drops of ice once they cascaded off her silken skin. Immaculate. All I could see was immaculate. I could see her. I could feel her. All I could feel was her. I felt no true pain. The only true pain would be to live without her. Never.

I felt my body being lifted by her wind-manipulating powers, her fingers making subtle moments. Transcending everything that I had ever believed, I felt my body hover above hers, above the rock, and the blood trickled down my face. She looked like a beacon of light, like the brightest light guiding my tired, dark ship back to shore. Boots firmly planted themselves on the rock once her power released itself and I felt weak, knowing the warm trickle of human blood was flowing down the back of my head. Feeling it sent a different dimension of warm down my body, and I glanced at my blood…

Black. From what I remember, that’s not the color blood should be…

“You don’t have much time…you’re going to die at this rate. That can’t happen…you have to fulfill your mission…” her voice was beginning to fade, but I stayed firmly upright. How? I’m not quite sure myself. I wasn’t quite sure if it was my ears beginning to fail or her voice was getting weaker. Everything felt fuzzy, like the mist was rising again from the river. Golden beams re-opened my eyes as her hair floated past my face, prompting me silently to open my eyes. Begging will get you nowhere, my darling; it will get you everywhere.

She looked like she was thinking for a second, trying to prevent herself from freaking out. Wait, you can’t breathe…why are you gasping for breath? I ended up laughing, a guttural yet heady laugh that made me even more dizzy. My smile was growing on my face, I could feel it, and I could feel the very air moving around me, tickling my skin with life, escaping my lungs, in and out. I was breathing…Oh my god, I am breathing…how? I’m becoming delirious, thinking I’m able to truly breathe…what am I?

“I will free you…all you have to do is hold me close…”

Pain then seared its way all down my body, setting every nerve I had instantly to ice. From my neck all the way down, I felt like I was being encased in an ice capsule. A painful, icy coffin. My eyes squeezed shut and I fought the urge to grab where I could stop the pain and tried to remember what she had just told me…

“Free me? What? Free me? How? How can you free me?”

“Don’t worry, my Zachary…” I now felt the ice grow stronger in my neck, choking out remaining words that my throat could have uttered to her, “The pain will be over soon. Close your eyes. As they say, a life for a life…”

A life for a life? Phoebe…I could not lose her. I can not lose her…no.

I will not lose her…

And at that moment, I pulled the angel into my arms, with every ounce of essence in me, even though my arms were frozen solid. Taking her wings into my hands, my life…

what a relief

Sat, 30 May 2009 19:36:17 GMT

I passed my driver's test :-D Yay! I'm about to leave to go to my last day at Giant Eagle. I start at Westmoreland Manor on the 4th, so I get a paid vacation next week, in the meantime I get to start my new job. I have 6 pairs of scrubs to finalize it...

I think I'm just now starting to get excited about having my license.

Let's go Pens!

el meme

Wed, 20 May 2009 02:48:41 GMT

While I'm miserable from this allergy thing. EWW. I'll do this.

Fanfic Meme

01. Why do you write fanfic?
Because I enjoy making life come onto the page. I love seeing the reality inside fiction.

02. When did you write your first fanfic and which fandom was it for?
When I was 15, I used to write *NSYNC fiction.

03, Which fandoms do you, or have you, written for?
I have written for *NSYNC, Sailor Moon, Fushigi Yuugi, and Hanson. I am up for expansion as well.

04. Do you read much fanfic or do you mainly write?
I try to read as much as I can (I've been lacking lately).

05. What comes easiest for you when writing?
When I can sit down and write what I'm thinking. If it comes out as cohesive, I'm impressed. But torture seems to do me well.

06. Which genres do you mainly write?
I write pretty much anything. I'm not picky. It's all a part of life.

07. Which genres will you not write?
Fluff. I'm not too crazy about it.

08. Are reader comments/responses important?
Somewhat. It's nice to know hard work is appreciated.

09. Do you use a beta reader?
Not at the moment. I haven't been writing enough for that in my opinion.

10. Which is your favorite character to write fanfic for and why?
Oh, gosh, any Hanson brother. I see them not as Hanson, but as men whom I don't even know, so really you can't trace it back as a Hanfic, except for the name and occupation. Every single one of my interpretations of each of them is a little different.

11. Which are your favorite ships (including friendships) that you write the most?
I like writing Isaac/Lucky (you'll find out soon) and when I was doing it, Sarah/Isaac. That will all change.

12. Do you have characters that are so strongly established that they're in your heads?
Ally from Bells for Her. I bawled my eyes out during NaNo, not only because I lost my mom, but it was so hard for me to be going through the pain of loss, but Ally's pain of never being able to have the one man she's wanted.

good gravy

Tue, 19 May 2009 04:04:43 GMT

Oh god. UGH.

Good news? I got the job at the Manor. :-D So I start on June 4, the same time I take my vacation from the Big Bird.

Bad news? They had to give me a PPD shot...not that it would be an abnormal thing to prevent me from getting TB. But I'm having an adverse reaction to it. It's hard to breathe. I have a sharp spot in my back and I can't take a deep breath. I hope I'll be able to sleep tonight. And it's like I suddenly got a cold. All about 30 minutes after I got the shot.

Why? I found out...it has egg proteins. UGH. Allergy kicked in...SUCKAGE.

But other than that, I'm in a good mood.

Oh, and Bryan's birthday's officially today! :-D He's the big 2-6. I got him an Evgeni Malkin jersey. FUCK YEAH! Go Pens!

yo

Thu, 07 May 2009 03:37:18 GMT

I haven't been up to too much lately. My birthday's on Friday. Hopefully I'll post pics. I just haven't been much of a blogger lately. Forgive me.

it was all just a lie

Sun, 26 Apr 2009 04:07:40 GMT

An actual update before my muscles start to fail me for the evening:

1) It's hot. BLAH. And I hate it. Well, I don't hate it hate it, I just wish there were a way to stay cool. I got a motorized air-cooling fan...and an air conditioner is waiting on my floor to make its way into my other window.

2) My room is once again in progress. I got my cube shelves in, so that helps. I got my bookshelf in today, so the room is completely disshevled. Organization is a must, and right now, it's just not happening.

3) The 2nd (next Saturday) is 6 months. 6 months for Mom. That's crazy to me.

4) Speaking of Mom, I really haven't thought much about how she died. But now, it's like it's finally coming back. It's not painful (well, it is but not in a harmful way). I have fears that Bryan will die on me. I'm being rather irrational. And crazy...I don't know.

5) My counselor said I'm done. I admit I have been dealing with things well for how I've been. I don't know. I feel stuck. So stuck in this life that I don't want to live. I don't know if I'll be able to finish college. My statue of limitations might be up. Where in the hell do I go from here? I think this is normal for my age, but for my circumstances, it's understandable. Unfortunately for me, I believe, nobody gets it. There's no sense of empathy in academia.

I have considered going back for a Masters in Writing Popular Fiction, but I need to seriously research that before I do. Prerequisites and all that jazz. I want to do it badly.

6) The ring, the ring, the ring...it was going to be a secret, but apparently not anymore. That IS the ring. Bry and I went to Zales and looked at it. It's just as beautiful in person. The guy wants 1800 for it. It's 800 on the website, then with the Zales card, he said he'd knock it down to 1300.

I'm like "WTF?" at this point, but Bry told me not to worry about it. Heckling will happen, he told me.

I doubt the intentions sometimes. We still fight like we mean nothing to each other. That frightens the crap out of me. Like either of us could throw away the feelings we have for each other. That's why I doubt that he's serious. I'm pretty sure until he actually does it, I won't believe it for sure.

7) The Pens are advancing. That makes me a happy camper. Question is, will we play the Devils...? Maybe the Rangers? I don't know for sure. I sure don't want to see the Sharks crash and burn. Currently, their game is on. I'm not watching, but I hope they don't burn out. They seem to be doing well at the moment.

8) I'm back to writing, a little. I'm just tired. Really tired. I've got work at 9:30 in the morning, so I'm going to leave it here for now.

i'm thinking...

Wed, 15 Apr 2009 07:19:52 GMT

I've been inspired lately. Just haven't gotten it too much into writing form yet. I've got 5 projects I'm pondering. 4 are already in progress. 1 is pretty new.

And then I've got this...

I showed Renee C. the pic already, so she knows it. What about anybody else on here? Good for an engagement ring? Bry and I are shopping :-D Holy freaking Christ.

back in time, up and down

Fri, 10 Apr 2009 16:09:39 GMT

I've been here. I'm preparing for Easter in my special, little mediocre way. I bought my little cousin (who I now live with) a basket full of Easter stuff and am planning a mini Easter Egg hunt. I hope he likes it. I tend to worry about stuff like that.

Website planning really gets me in the mood to write a little. As a matter of fact, I'm going to try to pound out a little more of "The Friendly Game" before work. I have to work, and miss out on sushi today :( BOOOO...

oh gosh

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 06:01:42 GMT

SOOOOO....after all the thought I've put into it, I've decided to extend my Yahoo Group!

dreamingofreality-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

If you haven't and you're interested, send an e-mail to that. I'm hoping to send e-mail updates of fics. I need to get my ass in gear.

So, for motivation...I'm gonna post Chapter 2 of an oldie but goodie: The Friendly Game. The Renee's should remember this one. I'd love some feedback on this :) Now you finally get to see a direction of where the story is going.

Chapter Two: Learning the Game to Play, but the Question is…is he even Capable?

“We can’t just tell him,” I heard through my closed eyes.

“You’re going to have to, son.”

“He almost got trampled to death in the lobby of our hotel. There’s no way this tour can go on.”

“Are you kidding? We’ve worked so hard to get this far, we can’t just throw it out of the window just because Zac got crowded by a bunch of women. Besides, Tay, he likes that stuff.”

“Ike, you’re such a fucking prick. You didn’t even see it. It was really scary.”

“You’re right, I didn’t see it, how would I know? It just didn’t seem like such a big deal.”

“Ike, 2 girls are dead because of this. I’m not going to stand around and throw it into the air like it’s a volleyball. Something needs to be done.”

I opened my eyes softly, no one noticing that I was quite awake. From what it looked like, I was in a hospital room, my head and body felt numb, and my brothers were arguing with a cop. Geez…what the crap?

“How many again, officer?”

“It’s just been confirmed. 4 young women dead.”

“And how many in critical condition?”

“8 more. A lot of the girls are in here so the paramedics can check their vitals. A lot of them are shaken, and a couple paparazzi got trampled.”

“Damnit,” Taylor hung his head.

Ike, then, turned his head over and his face was suddenly rejuvenated when he saw I was awake, “Hey, Zac.”

“Son, we’re going to need some information from you,” the cop immediately noticed my alertness after Ike had turned my way, “We need you to tell us everything that happened today in the lobby of that hotel.”

“What are you talking about?” I looked at him lightly, “What hotel?”

“Zac…” Taylor looked over, his eyes full of concern, “What city are we in?”

I thought for a moment, then answered, “Albuquerque.”

“Ah holy crap,” Taylor ran his hands through his hair, “We’re not in Albuquerque anymore. We’re in Houston. We were about to head off to Dallas.”

“I thought we were on our way to Houston,” I turned my head, noticing it was night, “The last thing I remember, we were heading on the bus to go to Houston.”

“Well, we’ve been here for a whole day now. You’ve been in here for a few hours.”

“Son? Do you know who this is?” he pointed to my brother.

“Yeah, that’s Ike,” I scoffed. What the hell were they doing? There’s nothing wrong with me. Gawking over me like I’m some type of biology project. I will have none of this!

“Well, it seems that he has suffered no harmful damage, and that he can remember his present surroundings.”

“That’s absurd, officer!” Taylor was yelling now, “He was trampled, and he’s in the hospital! How can you say it’s no harmful damage?”

“Excuse my French…but what the fuck is going on?” I peered up, almost like I were in a bubble hovering below them, and they were about to pop my sudsy self open.

The doctor at this time was walking in the room. Thank God, maybe somebody could tell me what the hell is going on and why I’m here.

“Mr. Hanson, you’re awake, very nice to see you awake and well.”

God…a priss. Well, I’m attracted to her immediately. God, I hope I’m not showing through the blanket.

“Hi Doc,” I smiled sheepishly, still feeling weak from whatever the hell happened to me.

“Doctor,” Isaac clung to the hot doctor almost like a dog in heat, “What’s the matter with him?”

“Well, it looks like he took a bit of a bump there.”

“He doesn’t remember anything that’s happened within the past couple days,” Taylor was now joining the scream squad of boys.

“Well…that sounds like emotional amnesia to me, and I am a doctor,” she winked in Taylor’s direction. Don’t tell me…one of those Taylor fans that wish he weren’t married. Get over it lady!

“Emotional amnesia?” I looked at her, sitting up, feeling my head spin.

“Lay down, Mr. Hanson, I’m not exactly sure what’s happened and neither is anyone else for that matter. The situation, so I’ve heard, was very packed and it happened rather quickly. We do have a witness that is waiting out in the hallway and she has claimed to see you.”

“Seriously…what is emotional amnesia?” I was starting to get rather aggravated now. God, I need a good blowjob.

“This must have been a traumatic ordeal for you to push it out of your brain, Mr. Hanson. You do not remember any of the events that happened over the last couple days because you’ve pushed it into the subconscious. This could also be lacunar amnesia as well,” she put her pen in her mouth, lightly chewing on it. God, I wish that were my dick, “You don’t seem to remember this specific event…”

“He didn’t remember we were in Houston,” Taylor butted in.

Hey Tay, shut up! Let the hot doctor talk, okay? She’ll be a nice fantasy later.

“It is definitely emotional amnesia,” he turned towards my brothers, “He seems to have forgotten the events of the last few days because he repressed it. Over the next couple weeks, he should go to counseling and hopefully his memory will return. It is not a super serious condition, but I would just be there for him emotionally.”

What the fuck, doc? Zac Hanson has no emotion.

“Has he had sex within the last 24 hours?”

“I would imagine he has, he’s a pimp whore,” Ike whispered softly.

“I would sustain from sex for a while, Mr. Hanson. At least for a week. You might need to get your priorities straight,” the doctor looked at me, smiling. Yeah…I was definitely getting laid tonight, big time.

“Okay, doctor,” I replied quietly and my brothers smothered me with some more love before they left. I was only staying for a night, and luckily the doctor gave me a private room so as to not raise any commotion in other units and also for paparazzi to keep their grubby hands off me. Showtime.

Later that night, I looked deep into the eyes in the mirror…only seeing myself. Why did the doctor not come back? I thought for sure we were feeling some chemistry. I had been waiting up for at least 2 hours so far and nothing. I couldn’t be more disappointed.

Damnit, where has my charm gone?

“Hey, Zac,” a quiet voice came from the door and I saw a small blonde face peering back at me from the open door. About time, woman. My worm is crawling.

“Hey doctor,” I smiled wide as the girl walked into the room. She looked too young…wait a second…

“I’m not your doctor, silly,” the girl smiled brightly, almost too chipper for my taste.

“Well then…who are you?”

“The boys told me about your accident,” she rung her hands nervously, looking up at me with slightly cloudy eyes of grayish-hazel, “We started dating a couple days ago. Don’t you remember me?”

“No,” I looked at her firmly. She had a slightly familiar looking face, but I just could not place her. I felt like I had seen her before.

“I’m London,” she smiled, her smile immediately taking over her entire face, making me quickly intimidated by it. It was definitely a smile I could get sucked into, “London Chesterfield.”

“Well then, I’m meeting you again,” I smiled back at her. I don’t know what I saw in her. Honestly, she’s pretty, but she seems like one of those bimbo blondes. I mean, she didn’t even have the nice customary “bimbo rack” that I tend to like to squeeze.

“Let me refresh your memory for you, then,” she quickly came over to the bedside, planting her firm lips to mine, sucking on them lightly. Wow…what a killer kiss. I must have tapped that, seriously. How could I have not? That kiss was absolutely hot.

Pulling her closer to me, I immediately felt a hard-on rising to meet the occasion. God I wanted her. She wasn’t the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen, but if she could kiss like that, imagine what the rest of her can do. So, I went for it, but she stopped me.

“Hey, no hands on, please,” she immediately broke the kiss, pushing her hands against my chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“Save the energy for when you get out of here,” she smiled cunningly. Wow, this girl was good. She knew I would probably get in trouble for it, so she decided to spare me the extra charges. Besides, the stark sterile sheets would be completely ruined after I was through with her.

“I shall,” I smiled and she completely fell for the Hanson charm.

“I think I’ll leave you with that,” she winked softly.

“Leaving so soon? You know they have cots here where you can sleep in the room.”

“I have somewhere to be,” she looked at me with a slightly shifty look, “But I promise I’ll be here when they discharge you, okay?”

“Okay,” I looked as she walked towards the exit and bumped into one of the nurses, “God, watch where you’re fucking going!”, then quickly switching back to lovey-dovey mood and blew me a kiss as the nurse got up, brushing her long, deep brown hair over her shoulders…

Hair that looked so familiar. Wait a second…

“You?” I looked at her and she turned around.

“I’ve been assigned to YOUR room?” she looked at me like she could not believe her eyes. Like I could have suddenly sprouted horns out of my forehead. Like I had suddenly grown another eye in the middle of my hand. Like she could not believe it was me, “Fuck me.”

“Already have,” I smugly replied.

“Fuck you, then.”

“Done that too.”

“You know what? You don’t have a lot of room to speak here. I just came to check on your vitals,” she came over and roodly yanked my hand up, “Your I.V. looks fine. Want me to fix that? It could really hurt.”

“Like I hurt you?”

“Yes, just so happens,” she looked into my eyes with her almond-shaped ones, those sharp brown eyes shooting daggers into my skull, “Doesn’t look like you’re finished either.”

“Jolene…”

“Don’t even speak to me anymore about it, you’re lucky I’m being nice now.”

“And you call this being nice?”

“Yes, for a girl who was fucked over,” Jolene’s voice was overwhelmed with emotion as the shirt with Tweety birds suddenly got a teardrop as a visitor, “And never appreciated.”

“Listen…” I looked at her, grabbing her hand before it could go away. It was so tiny I was afraid it would slip out of my hand. But I noticed something that I knew wasn’t there before… “You’re engaged?”

“Yes,” she looked at me, almost in the way that she looked at me the night I had met her.

“Who’s the lucky bastard?”

“None of your business,” and just like that, her hand did disappear. Damnit, why do I have to blow everything? Maybe I should just think before I speak.

“I want you back.”

“The way you were talking to Miss Chesterfield sounds like you really want me back badly.”

“And you were eavesdropping…why?”

“Because I happen to give a damn enough about the patient that I was assigned with. Besides, I was in my way in the room when your little trick bumped me onto the ground.”

“She is not a trick.”

“You just happened to remember her today and you say she’s not a trick. Uh huh. Yeah. That’s exactly why she was all over you. I know better. That’s like saying that I was not just a one-night stand.”

“I didn’t realize how much you meant to me until you were gone. Is there any way to get you back?” I asked softly and genuinely. In a hospital bed, how could I not look adorable and vulnerable?

“You’ve got to play a game for me,” she looked me square in the eye.

“And what type of game is that?”

Her speech was simple and concise and I felt like I was suddenly cosmically wired and tied to the bed, and not in the sense that I liked either. Jolene had this power over me and I wasn’t exactly sure what she was capable of. With the way that she stared into my eyes, it was almost like she could control every internal function of my body and completely against my will, “A friendly game. You are not allowed to have sex for the next…year.”

“A year?”

“Yeah, a year,” she laughed her head off as she was walking out of the door after checking my vitals.

Damn bitch. The things I do for her…what the hell is it about her anyways that can drive me fucking bonkers? I don’t fucking get it. But I’ll show her. She thinks I can’t go a year without sex? I’ll show her.

here in the open space

Wed, 01 Apr 2009 03:01:56 GMT

I'm, once again, pondering buying a website. I need some help. *sigh*

How about I do some writing first? lol

if u seek amy tonight

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 03:01:52 GMT

I'm going to try to get to some writing. That's right, people. It's about time, too. I'm dying for some inspiration, though. *sigh* I just need to find it.

happy birthday

Sun, 15 Mar 2009 05:29:07 GMT

You sexy mo-fo. :-D The big 2-6. :-D Happy birthday, man. You are awesome.

So, in honor of your birthday, I wrote you this (granted, it is a little late, but oh the hell well). I'm usually not a girl to go for canon-stuff, but this is a cute lil thing. Enjoy!

I knew in the back of my mind it was stirring; I hadn’t gotten laid in 3 weeks.

Not that it bothered me so much. I tried to repress the point that I had sexual needs. Kids can do that to you. You can forget yourself because you have so many other lives dependent on you.

But hey, it’s my birthday. Doesn’t a guy deserve some attention?

Natalie and I have been married for how long now? I had to think about it for a second. Almost 7 years. We had to do quite a bit to spark our interest in each other sexually from time to time, but in reality, we truly do adore each other. She’s a sweet Southern girl, exactly who my mother said I needed in my life. She’s somebody who I know will take care of me down the road. I love her more than anybody could ever guess. I wouldn’t even know how to express it properly, even if she made me.

Hopefully there’s no 7-year itch involved. What am I talking about? My son would even kick my ass if that happened.

The Tinted Windows gig is in a week. I can feel the sweat beading on my neck as I think about it. For now, I’m mentally preparing myself, then me and Nat and the kids are going down to Texas for the show. Ike and Zac are supporting me big time. I’m lucky to have such good family. I don’t acknowledge that for the most part. I always think they kind of know already.

Dude, did I take some chick pills or something?

On the way home, I turned down the familiar roads, pulled in my familiar driveway, and knew my family was waiting inside.

Ezra, Penelope, River, and Viggo. Quite a nice pack of cubs I have, I must admit. I want 2 more. I think I’m going to have 2 more children before Nat and I decide to stop. I sure hope one’s a girl.

I opened the door, expertly turning the lock and my wife is breast-feeding Viggo. She is playing the game they usually play, where she hides her head underneath the blanket she uses to cover herself. Ezra’s in a phase where all he wants to see is boob, no matter whose it is. Penny keeps to herself, playing with her Sleeping Beauty doll. We’re teaching River things to do with Baby Einstein and he’s very musically oriented.

Hearing Nat playing her game after I open the door, all I hear is, “You can’t join our party! This is a private party!” I smile, lean over and kiss her on the top of her head. She pokes her face out and smiles a wide, white grin back to me.

“Your son made you something. I left it on the kitchen table. He made it at school today.”

“He did now?” I smiled, looking on the table. What I saw…

What I saw cemented everything I knew to be wonderful in my life.

It looked like a cake. At least I think it looked like a cake. It was round, and covered in red/pinkish icing. On it were the numbers “2” and “6”, jutting out of the top.

“Did Ezra really make this?”

“Yes, but I helped him with that,” she smiled, peeking her head out of the blanket long enough to speak, “I’m sorry about the shape. I told him to butter it and he forgot, so half of the cake stuck to the pan.”

I laughed at this mention, “This is big time, Nat. Do we have the new Emeril living here?”

“Maybe,” she giggled and I heard Viggo giggle in-between heavy breaths. Natalie gasped, “Geez…” and adjusting herself, “The kid munches like he has teeth.”

“Fangs,” I made a playful advance with my teeth in her direction, which ignited a giggle.

“No, what your son made in school is next to the cake.”

I hadn’t noticed. Next to the cake was a piece of construction paper, a large house drawn on it in blue. On it was stick-figure people, my form in red with the word “Daddy” under it, “Mommy” Natalie in green next to me, little purple “Viggo” in purple in Natalie’s arms, then blue “Ezra”, yellow “Penny”, and orange “River” in a row next to us. Underneath it was a caption in Ezra’s brand new sloppy writing style:

“MY FAMILY.”

I smiled. My heart warmed.

“EZRA, PENNY, RIVER! Get out here!”

“Taylor, shhh,” Natalie looked at me with a stern eye, “They’re watching Open Season.”

“DADDY’S HOME!” I heard little feet running, fast, out in the other room and 3 little heads came to greet me, little arms wrapped around my feet. I instantly scooped River up in my arms.

“Thank you guys for the cake and the beautiful drawing,” I smiled at every one of them.

“DAD! I drew it,” Ezra pouted.

“We all helped with the cake, Ezzy,” Penny looked at her brother.

“Dummy.”

Little River was obsessed with the word “dummy”. “Don’t call your brother a dummy, River,” I looked at him sternly and then he ended up cuddling into my neck, “I know everything is from all of you. Guess what?”

“What?”

“This is going on the fridge,” I put River down and smiled at Ezra, “My big man knows his family.”

Ezra smiled proudly, showing off the gap in his tooth where he had just lost his first baby tooth as I grabbed a magnet off the side and slapped it firmly on the fridge, right in the middle.

“Happy birthday Dad!” they all smiled. Natalie joined us, with Viggo in tow, and lit my candles, ending what was a crappy day turned much, much better.

it's up!

Thu, 05 Mar 2009 07:02:53 GMT

I'm back. Cricket Broadband is here! *though it's really slow compared to the Comcast* But I have Internet again. Maybe now I'll be motivated to finish "The Edge". I hope people read it for the challenge *silent fear*

:-D

Shall be back with a proper update.

prepare yourself

Sun, 22 Feb 2009 17:48:43 GMT

Holy shit. I finished Chapter 6. Literally, just now, at my friend's house. I still don't have the internet. But enjoy, and I want comments!

Chapter Three: The Shadow and the Rat

Stalking, in the shadows, I felt the most comfortable. I was a creature of habit, although I was not sure if I was even a creature who would put myself into any category such as that. I usually stayed quiet when it came to taking orders. We demons are relatively rebellious beings by nature, but I was one of the very few that did what they were told. For that reason, Lois decided to hang onto me. Tightly, with those claws of steel, she was the only one that had ever made me feel anything. Like I stated previously, only a celestial being could make me have feeling.

Only a celestial being…then what about that deathly chill that still clung to my neck like an icy leech?

My feet resonated heavy on the pavement. The wind was coming across my skin sharp and cold, but I could not feel it. I could barely see. Luckily, I had been granted the ability to see as a human would; impartially and with limited knowledge of what was really around them. Humans almost had a filter around their eyes, to filter out everything that they would consider artificial. As a human, you can only feel presences. Me? I can view them. There are ghosts that wander the earth, looking exactly like humans, except they wear a cross around their necks, choosing to remain on Earth for the duration they feel like their presence is needed. Once they take the chain off, they are set free of the gravity that binds them to the Earth. Most ascend; some don’t even know they have chains.

The ghosts could sense my presence and they were afraid. They are wise.

I could not see them, but I could feel their presence. I still had the senses of a demon. 2, at least. Gentle and wandering, like most. Only a select few are bitter and tied to Earth permanently, and they tend to be property-dwelling entities. They don’t float around in the open like they are searching for people to care for. That’s a human quality that I could never imagine having; caring.

The shadows were my friends. They tried to whisper things to me that would make me fear the light and find comfort in the dark. Not only did I listen, but I convinced them to doubt even themselves, and I didn’t have to mouth a single word. They slithered away back into their dark crevices to take shelter from the even darker creature passing by in their wake. They were afraid by the pure dark, not just the cast of the dark they were themselves. Only a brave few remained behind to watch as I walked away. We had a very verbal friendship, and I was clearly the dominant one.

My eyes spoke volumes to them, and their scared figures were practically frozen under my stare.

“What do you know?” I approached one of them and spoke to it.

Not receiving a response, I sighed as I stepped on part of the shadow, holding it taut before it moved away. It let out a yelp, only one noticeable to a demon and never something a human would hear, and I proceeded to lean down and wrap the tail of the shadow around my finger. It was a rather small shadow, but an anxious one.

“Tell me, I’m not going to hurt you unless you refuse to cooperate,” I looked at him and he seemed to shake even more underneath my fiery fingers. They were growing in heat, silently threatening him with the heat so he would dissolve right through my human-form fingers.

A set of un-formable words squeaked its way out of the shadow. As a demon, I had been schooled in the linguistics of all dark creatures, over the years that I had been left in Hell. I never considered myself scholarly, even from what I was told of my previous human life, but Lois told me I excelled in foreign relations and sent me all around the underworld to be a diplomat. Not all demons agreed with each other.

I always find it funny, the Earthly stories I hear about Hell being a kingdom and the Devil being a monarch. It’s very much like the ancient Native American tribes in actuality. We go off into our select groups, each speak our own languages, have our own behaviors, get along with some groups, and war with others. Wars don’t come along very often, luckily, and when you as a human would see it, the aftermath is a volcano erupting.

Always wondered how that happened? Or maybe you were one of those humans that thought they knew exactly what happened at the Earth’s core. Fool.

I felt my mouth forming into a smirk, the most common form of a smile for myself even as a demon, thinking about the destruction and chaos that so naturally formed inside my thought processes. Almost like a human craves water, my conscience craved chaos. Most of the time I could repress it, but there were other moments where the power even surpassed myself.

“And you call others a fool…”

The icy tickle was getting stronger. That must mean that I was getting closer to my target. It sounded like a distinct human voice, but nobody else heard it. It was noticeably loud enough to not be a whisper, but I couldn’t understand why no one else around me could hear it.

“I can hear it.”

I jumped, knowing that voice. It was that beautiful, haunting, yet annoying voice of the woman I had met in that store. I looked around, trying not to act alarmed. Unlike the voice before, it was sultry, deep, and absolutely not noticeable to the human ear.

That girl knew my name…how? How did she know my name?

“Lois sent me to be a messenger.”

I looked down, now being able to distinguish what direction the voice was coming from, and a small, dirty-looking Earth creature called a rat was sitting at my heels. I was not afraid, but everybody else that was passing me on the sidewalk was alarmed and disgusted when I picked the creature up in my hands and looked into its eyes, crystalline blue and knowing, definitely not that of a real rodent.

“Is…is that you, Delilah?”

“Of course it’s me,” the little beast’s mouth kept moving, “Now move into the alley so I can transform. I hate this rat body, but it’s the only one that Lois had available for me.”

I stepped into the alleyway quietly, stalking almost, and at that moment the rat body transformed into the same form that I had seen Delilah in at the store, “Thank goodness.”

“You’re a demon?”

“Yes, I’m a demon,” she sighed, exasperated, “I had to create myself to be an airhead in front of the others. Trust me, this is not pleasant. I hate it, actually,” she brushed her shirt off and stamped her feet lightly into the ground, “And these human bodies are so heavy and gross.”

“Get over it,” I looked at her fiercely, “Are you serious? Lois actually sent you to check up on me?”

“No,” she sighed, exasperated once again, almost like she was completely fed up with me, and I knew this was our very first meeting, “I told you already, she sent me to be a messenger. A go-to-and-fro kind of thing.”

“I was wondering why she didn’t give me any materials to transfer data back to her,” I felt a quizzical expression creep on my face.

“You’ve got me,” she ran her hands up and down her body like she was presenting herself as an idea, “And you didn’t even have to pay for it.”

“Trust me, you’re not worth it,” I started to walk away from her, “Now why don’t you run along, you filthy rodent?”

“Are you saying I’m not good enough to help you?” I could hear her voice began to escalate in volume to reach my ears.

“Perhaps!” I called back.

Next thing I knew, I was being held in place by a fiery lasso, one that didn’t hurt my skin but definitely got my attention when it came to restraint, “Release me, woman.”

“I don’t think so,” her voice was lyrical and sweet in my ear, almost like teasing me with her very voice, to my very core, “I learned from the best, my dear Zachary. I will make your life worse than what you think you’ve been through. I will suck the very being out of you so that you have nothing to even walk on to motivate you. Darling, I will be your hell.”

“I can see you’ve gotten that trait from your loving mother,” I referred to her succubus behavior, “What a caring person she must have been to pass that onto you.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot, I can’t affect you,” she sighed, immediately releasing my grip and I felt a weight being lifted off my throat. I guess I was unconsciously breathing. Another human trait that I definitely do not remembering having, “I am a bit of an airhead.”

“No wonder Lois picked out a rat,” I smirked and forced myself to have a smile, “You’re sneaky and stupid.”

“It’s easier for me to go back and forth than you,” she looked at me fiercely with those eyes, those eyes that could zap the life out of a normal man, “That’s why she sent me. To serve you, MASTER.”

“Thanks,” I definitely smiled this time, “I kinda like that title.”

“I’ve been given more details on this mission than you have. They are on a need-to-know basis. I have just been instructed,” her mind was active and I could tell by the expression on her face, “by Lois that I am to inform you of what your mission is.”

“Really?” my voice grew in curiosity.

“But only some. You know how she weighs out her options. Now,” she conjured up a scroll that looked burned, the signature way that Lois communicated with her underlings, “You are searching for a celestial creature. With the way that I have observed your behavior and from what I have reported back to her about it, she tells me you might already have had some sort of interaction with it.”

“Would that be in the form of a tickle on my goddamn NECK?” I yelled, getting impatient. She was already telling me things I knew. What did she think I was, a total imbecile?

“Yes, it would. This celestial creature has the main power of wind, but can also manipulate the way other elements work,” she perked her eyebrow as she looked over the scroll into my eyes, “Do you remember what kind of being that is?”

I didn’t even have to think about it; I already knew, “An angel. She sent me…to find an angel?”

“As predicted, the angel has found you first,” she looked at me once again before looking down at the document, “It leaves small signs. This one must have used her powers to manipulate the Earth’s temperature to make her breath feel cold. Clever little one we have here.”

“Okay, can you please get to the conclusion?”

“Zachary, Zachary,” she looked at me once again, rolling the scroll up and scolding me like an infant, “I told you already. You are only to be informed of what you need to know. I, as a matter of fact, do not know the nature of the angel or their name. The only instructions I have received for you are a direct order from her.”

“Just tell me what it is,” I crossed my arms.

“You have been ordered to kill it.”

Chapter Four: Comfortably Non-Numb

“I’ve been ordered…to KILL it?”

“Does it seem like an impossible task?” Delilah asked, a sly tone entering her throat and a clear superior smirk forming on her face, “She wasn’t sure if you’d be able to handle it, considering you’ve been wandering here for a few hours now. The Earth atmosphere starting to hit you yet?”

“Ye-”

“You don’t have to answer, she already knows. I’ve informed her already,” her voice joined her face in the escalation of her apparent amusement with the situation, “The human body she lent you comes with consequences.”

“Human…body…” I murmured slowly, poking myself to even feel if I was real.

“This is why she has only given you 2 days to do it,” she unrolled the scroll again to find any hidden information she might have been missing from it, “With a human body, you not only pick up the vulnerability, but you also start adapting to the body, like you’re becoming one with it.”

“Will I be able to get out of this body, then?” I started yelling at her, getting angry with my situation more and more with every passing word.

“It will be painful, very painful,” she let out a small laugh, “But yes. Luckily, I am suited to a human body as well as a rat body. I have been born that way, so transformation is no problem for me. You, on the other hand, will have great difficulty being transformed back into pure demon,” her laughter was growing underneath her wretched breath, “Lois wasn’t even sure you’d be able to handle it.”

“This sounds like a suicide mission if you ask me,” I looked at her harshly, “Is there any possible way I could die in this body? It is human, it comes with weaknesses apparently. Didn’t you just say that?”

“Well…” she bit her lip and looked at me.

“Are you saying I could die?” my voice was growing louder. Luckily, we were in a remote location so my voice could not be heard.

“Not per se dying, but…”

“But? There’s a BUT?”

“You can bleed.”

“I can…I can BLEED? That leads me to believe I’m turning into a human!”

“But you’re not,” the scroll almost dropped out of her hands. She was clearly unaware of how angry she would really get me by her arrogant attitude. Or maybe she did and was faking animosity towards the situation, “You’re not human. You’re picking up vulnerability. I told you this. You will get hurt if someone hurts you. You have feeling…”

“But I couldn’t feel you before,” my eyes were growing smaller as my anger was settling into every open crevice, “Even though I tried.”

“I bet you could feel me now,” she walked up, the scroll disappearing from her fingers in a quick puff of smoke and then grabbed my wrist. I could feel her.

“How can I feel you now and not before?” now my mind was confused. So much activity was wearing me down. That must have also been a vulnerability that I had gained. Because my brain was so incredibly active, it dragged down my body and my defenses.

“I believe it is because of the adaptation. I am not a celestial being,” she looked me firmly in the eyes, all joking aside, “But you can feel my presence. Why do you think that could be?”

“I can’t help but to come back to the crazy as hell solution that I’m turning into a human, Delilah, and can you blame me?” I asked, my anger rising with every fake breath that I took. I don’t know what would happen if the oxygen in the air gave me sustenance. That would just add fuel to my fire.

“You’re not turning human. Do you realize how ridiculous that idea sounds?” she asked, blowing me off as she did. She obviously did not get the poignancy of my reasoning. All she could afford to do was laugh at me.

“I’m able to bleed, I can feel things, there is something wrong with me,” my shoulders gave into gravity and I felt my body becoming heavier as my body was now adjusting to the gravity all around me.

“Nobody said there wasn’t something wrong,” she mumbled under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she eep-ed herself quiet and stared at me for a minute, holding a quizzical expression on her face, only one a human could hold.

“You’re able to feel things because you’re able to adapt to this world. You were once a human, your innate ability to feel and change is coming back to you. It’s lodged somewhere in your unconscious mind. No matter how much Lois tried to think she erased your mind, it looks like it went into the deepest part of your brain, only to be reinstated when you needed the skills to live here again.”

“I do not plan on living here again. I don’t even remember living here the first time,” I planted my feet firmly on the ground, not wanting to get sucked up in the Earth’s almost hypnotic spell, trying to keep their humans grounded and centered.

“Your still have your motor instincts, I’m sure you could…”

“Never.”

Delilah fell silent as she suddenly received another scroll in her hands, hot and fiery. She unrolled it and spoke slowly, “I’m quoting this. ‘The eyes tell you to shut up before you get yourself burned.’”

“The eyes?” I asked oddly.

“You really think she’d just send you and me to monitor this operation?” she asked, letting out a small puff of a laugh, “She’s right. You really do think like a human. Naïve, young boy…”

“And how old would you be?” I asked, looking down at my watch again, still stuck on that time: February 9, 2009. I couldn’t get that date out of my head…

“Over 475 years old, darling,” she looked at me with a cocky smile, “I was born in the year 1744.”

“What happened to make you die so young?” I looked at her softly.

“Tuberculosis. They immediately gave me a chance to return, but I was still bitter towards the life I led underneath my family’s harsh Southern American roots, what with all the slaves prancing about and the way my parents felt about them. I had an affair with one of the male slaves, but I became gravely ill after I had learned about my pregnancy. My mother cursed my name after she found out about William and almost gave me an abortion with a kitchen knife, but my brother died saving my life. After she killed her baby boy, she killed herself,” she sighed deeply, the pain still eminent in her eyes, “You should feel fortunate you cannot remember your Earth life. It is painful for me to.”

“What about your father?”

“My father was a racist coward!” she looked at me, her fists balled up, “He would talk down to all the slaves in front of them, but to me fess that he was afraid of dyin’ every single day by their hands. He was so afraid of a revolution that he slept with his dresser against his door every single night,” her hands lowered themselves to her sides, “’Course, he lived to a ripe ol’ age where no man ever harmed him out of fear that he’d take their life by the whip.”

I could hear her Southern accent creeping through and I looked at her, “Were you sent up to Earth for missions before?”

“This is my first with another demon,” she looked at me, grabbing my hand and I could still feel it. It was slightly warm, not hot like Lois’ hands, and squeezed it, “I mostly get sent up to be the evil side of the conscience. I have caused a couple disasters in my day.”

“Name some off the top of your head.”

“The JFK shooting, that’s the biggest one,” she looked at me with ashamed eyes.

“JFK…” I paused, trying to remember who he was.

“He was a good man…I was ordered against my will,” she sighed. I knew she had regrets about the life she was living now, even though she was created perfectly for it, “That’s the last time I’ve been up here.”

“It must have been a long time ago,” I rang my hands together, feeling odd with her hand in my hand. It didn’t feel right. Nothing felt like it should.

“A little more than 2 ½ centuries later,” she sighed, her eyes looking back up at mine, “Zachary, you are very fortunate to not remember your life.”

“Why?” I asked. I didn’t even know why I asked. Why did I care about the life I lived before?

“It’s a burden you don’t want to have. It makes you vulnerable.”

“Well if I’m able to pull things out of my subconscious to make my adaptation here more natural, shouldn’t I be remembering something from my human life right about now?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “It sometimes takes longer than others. You’re a pretty strong demon, it might take your mind longer to weaken.”

I still felt cold tickles, and I still wondered where they came from, “I’ve been feeling a cold sensation on the back of my neck for a while now…”

“I informed you previously, that is the angel’s way of contacting you. Their unique way. It’s different with every being. For you, it’s cold, since you control magma,” she looked at me, “But if you’re feeling the tickle more, it means we’re getting closer. We don’t have a lot of time left. It’s almost nightfall.”

I looked around and noticed the brilliant glow of the sun fading over the horizon, disappeared from my sight. The twilight glow, the colors still reflecting off the clouds and the way they looked like puffs of cotton, the feeling of the air against my skin, and the way that the dark was settling in was something I had not felt in a long time. I was feeling it. It was so odd to have feeling again. I felt like I knew this. I felt like I knew it well.

“Something coming to mind?” Delilah answered.

“Slowly…it’s still in the back, but I just feel…comfortable,” I decided at that moment to lie down on the cooling pavement below me. The shadows were creeping over my body, trying to lull me to sleep. My body was feeling the itch of fatigue, but my mind was still moving a mile a minute. I was beginning to feel more and more with every moment that passed. The way the cold air nipped at my skin, the wind moving through my hair, the brief pulsing of the concrete as cars passed, the sound of hidden bugs and rats crawling along. The shadows at this point were tugging at my clothes, trying to get my attention, “I don’t know why I feel so comfortable here.”

“I do.”

I sat up, looking back at Delilah with an odd look on my face. I wish I could have seen it for myself as her expression was unreadable, “What do you mean?”

“I know why you would feel comfortable here,” Delilah sunk to her knees next to me and I sat up to look at her. At that moment, I could see that she was beautiful exteriorly. Her hair and the way the ebony locks cascaded down her shoulders to gently rest on the curves of her breasts, her delicate nose resting on her face, the way her eyes moved slightly along, the way her breaths drew in and out slowly, mocking human respiratory activities. I wanted to touch her. I couldn’t. I would feel her. I didn’t want to feel her. I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know everything about where I was, who I was, where I had been before. I wanted to know what she knew.

“Why?” I asked, feeling so dumbfounded, watching her hair swirly lightly around itself in the wind.

She took a deep gulp, the skin on her neck growing taut briefly as her lips parted, a breath of air moving through her un-living lungs and her full mouth speaking, “Because…you died here.”

Chapter Five: Water vs. Fire

“I died here?” I asked slowly, wondering how people like her could know such random details about myself when I didn’t even know them, “How do you even know that?”

“I was told. I was also given the exclusive rights to that information for this mission,” she said.

“And why would that be?” I asked curiously.

“They said you would naturally migrate to where you died. It’s where your body became dis-acquainted with the Earth and became comfortable with the uncertainty of your future,” she replied, running her hand along the pavement. I still felt it, cold, before, but I felt extra cold with the chill in the air. It was only nighttime, now that the sun had completely dissolved from the sky. I could feel the cold of the evening settling into my bones if I even had them, and I felt a soft glow coming from a few miles away.

“We need to move on,” she replied, pulling herself from her knees and I followed suit. I brushed all the night dust off my body and looked at her as she spoke, “It’s close. We are drawing closer.”

The trek took us a few miles away from my death site and I remained quiet for the most part. Questions were now bursting through my brain, such as how she would even know how I died or if she knew anything about my life. I found one of the questions creeping through my throat and out my lips.

“I only know through Lois. She knows the most, but she’s told me stories,” she looked at me as we walked, even though to a human it would look like hyper speed. And what seemed like a few miles to us would seem like hundreds to a human in mere minute terms, “I did have another duty before I continued my hiatus from Earth.”

“And what was that?” I asked softly, not wanting to hear the answer.

“I watched over your life for a short time…the end of your life.”

“Why were you sent to watch over the end of my life?”

“I grew attached to you…that’s why it took me so long to kill you,” she looked at me softly.

My blood, if I had any, boiled, “You killed me?”

“No, not in so many words,” she bit her lip and looked at me slowly as my fists were balling up in an angry manner, “Listen, before you get totally unwound, let me explain something to you,” she held her hands up in defense.

“Should I even let you try to explain?” I asked, my hostility up high.

“We need to discuss this before we find the angel so your mind is as clear as possible. The human way of thinking is getting to your brain, so I need you to harness its power and listen to me rationally without blowing your stack,” she was speaking human slang that I understood, “My job is to transform into a creature that aids the lowly into misdeeds for our pleasure. It’s a pleasure job. Basically, I kept an eye on you and found an opportune moment to get your killer to kill you.”

“So you didn’t kill me?” my voice suddenly felt outside of my body.

“No, but I lulled the human who did into it. I watched you for the last few years of your life, waiting for an opportunity to take advantage of your Earthly weaknesses and get the man to find you and kill you. I waited far too long. Your death was postponed for at least 2 years because I came attached to watching you.”

“Do you…” I asked, suddenly not interested in how I did, but how I lived, “Do you remember what I was like?”

“As clear as a sheet of glass,” she looked at me with the purest expression that she could muster as a demon-fusion child, “Did you want to know?”

“Just the basics, I guess they would be nice. I’ve never wondered what my human life was before I came here.”

“Curiosity,” she wrote down on another scroll quickly and it disappeared in a puff of black smoke, “You’re picking up more human traits the further you go.”

“Get to the point. I want to know about my life,” I was beginning to whine as well.

“Irritability,” she marked down on another scroll that disappeared, “Okay, moving on. I’m sure you want to see all the records of the changes that have hit you since your stay.”

“Get to it!”

“Fine,” she sighed, “But you’re not going to remember a lick of it. I will make sure of that, even if I have to drag you off the Earth before you kill the angel…”

“Just tell me.”

“You were a kind man,” she told me slowly, her lips moving to where I could follow them with the utmost consistency, “You were a musician. You had a very large family. 3 brothers and 3 sisters. Your parents were very nice to you. You were starting a family of your own. You got married when you were 21 years old. You had a child before you died.”

“Wow, that could not be more mechanic if you were a robot,” I replied, not even knowing what a robot was. Maybe my human self did, “Why don’t you liven up the explanation?”

“It’s close…very close…” she mumbled, her eyes trailing away, but then turning back and focusing on my figure again, “Oh yeah, I’m sorry. I was scrolling through my notes. I’ll give you that. Okay, let me try that again,” she shut her eyes and spoke more fluidly and human-like, a way I could now understand, “You were a really nice guy, Zachary. Your name hasn’t changed since your human life. You didn’t live near here. Actually, you lived in the middle of the United States.”

“Where are we now?”

“We’re right on the border of Canada and New York, by Niagara Falls. You feel at home near the water. That’s why in your demon life you control fire. Reciprocal interests make sense, right?”

“Yes, they make sense,” I replied slowly, just now noticing that we were miles away from the city and now around the waterfall.

“These are the Canadian falls,” she mouthed to me as I watched gallon upon gallon upon gallon to the millions cascading over the cliff down to the small river below, the mist hitting my skin. We were near the edge, far past the area where they would let spectators stand and take pictures right by it. We were feeling rock move underneath our feet, falling to the water below. We were feeling the mist and the millions of gallons of moisture hit us all at once, setting our senses ablaze, almost like we were swimming without being underwater, “It should have been one of the 7 Natural Wonders of the World, how this formed. Shaped like a horseshoe, this one is.”

And that was the moment I realized, we were both standing on a small rock with the water racing past us to fall immediately over the edge. I felt adrenaline kick in. I was going to die. I was going to die. I was going to fall over the edge and die…

“You’re not going to die, Zachary,” she slapped me on the back, laughing as I tried to steady myself on the rock before falling into the cascading foam and falling down the exterior of the rock, following the water over the side. She was still laughing before my head entered the water, swallowing it, and falling. Endlessly falling. I felt the pain of the water slamming my body, I felt battered, torn, and dirty. I finally hit the bottom and the endless sea, but I felt myself not dependent on air to breathe or survive. I checked behind me as I was sinking further into the water to see if I was trailing blood. I was not.

Relieved, I realized that I could survive a fall without succumbing to the weaknesses that I had gained as a human. But I had to find a way to get to the surface. I could not swim. I didn’t know how. That hadn’t come back to me. One of my motor instincts, to swim to the surface, kicked in only in my conscious, but did not aide my body in the ability to kick. I was still being thrashed around by the churning falls above. I looked above me. I could not tell which way was up or down.

My thoughts were swirling as fast as the water was. How had we even gotten on that rock? Did we move that fast that I ran over water? How was I going to return to the surface? I had to return to it and fulfill my mission; to kill the angel. And speaking of the angel, how was I supposed to kill an angel? I hadn’t studied that in my scholarly history with Lois. How to kill an angel…that definitely wasn’t in the book. Why had she chosen me to do it? And why? Why was it necessary for an angel to die.

Then a cohesive thought formed in my brain and moving my hands to where my stomach was, I felt the gloves of Vulcan heat up around my hands and at that moment, I felt the rock below me begin to quake, setting the water even more ablaze in fury and rage around me. Suddenly, underneath my feet, I felt the Earth move. I felt the ground hit my feet and jettison me towards the surface. It felt like an island was growing underneath me, warm and hot.

I quickly devised the logical, like the natural demon I am: I had created a way for the Earth to form underneath my feet and rise to save my life. That was it. That was the only way my survival could have stayed in tact the way it was presently.

The pillar or rock kept moving me closer and closer to the surface so that the black that was all around me was now forming into a deep midnight blue and then moved into the misty white of the foamy brine around the base of the falls. My head finally broke the surface of the water, struggling for breath even though I didn’t need any and the land broke the surface as well, forming a small body-shaped slab that my body could fit on. I laid down, letting the oxygen fill my lungs over and over again. I did not exhale or cough up any water because I didn’t ingest any, but it was an experience I had to absorb.

Lying back on the rock, I stared at the foam still seeming to saturate my skin, clothes, hair and every spot available, but it remained dry. The foam danced around me like white swirls of smoke around a cup of coffee.

A cup of coffee? What was that? Another human memory that was moving forward in my unconscious maybe?

I sat up, noticing the way my body felt and the temperature of the rock. It was cooling quickly from the frigid temperature of the water, which that alone would have killed a human, so that it was more solid the longer I stayed put. By the time I completely propped myself up with my arms, the mist danced and played around my face, making it hard for me to see. But I could see something through the mist. It was hard to notice at first because it could blend in rather well, but there was something noticeably different about the atmosphere of the falls.

I couldn’t really tell what it was. It was some form. I still couldn’t really tell. It was moving liquid-like, following the movement of the mist and the water, both. I couldn’t tell if it was just a mass of mist all together or it was something living and breathing. I wanted to know. I still had a great deal of curiosity inside me, which I hated in the first place, but at the moment, I did not hate it.

Only the thought of wanting to know more consumed my brain.

Chapter Six: Powder

I had found myself stranded on this rock, surrounded by all the blissful mist of the Horseshoe Falls in Canada when I saw the figure that I had been watching move slightly. Not even an inch. I felt a set of eyes creeping, moving slowly from inside the mist. Was there some sort of Earth creature that lived inside the mist? Like I knew anything about Earth anymore.

All of a sudden, as quick as a second would go by, a break in the mist revealed a figure flying towards the sky with the grace and skill of nothing I have ever seen before. A humanly figure came floating out of the mist with the speed of a racecar, heading straight for the moon and the stars. It almost looked like a painting from the Romantic Period. It was a woman with long, glowing garments of white that were solid yet transparent at the same time, blending in with the night sky and able to change their shade with her surroundings. A glow hovered around her and clung to her form tightly of gold and white, reflecting off the light in the moon. She had long, radiant tresses of gold, multiple variations softly fluttering around her face and behind her in the cold, wet wind of the escaping mist. Her wings that I imagine would normally rest on her back were full span extended, pointy at the ends but looked light, soft and fluffy, like they were woven from the clouds above her head. And her wingspan extended arm length, her delicate arms stretched out to her side to steady herself in the sky.

An angel…

“Boy?”

The next thing I knew, the angel woman landed on the rock without a sound or a feeling at all. She was probably so light she would have been whipped away by the sheer force of the water around us. Her golden locks were dangling over her shoulders and her face was clear in front of me. She craned over my form, leaning down to look into my eyes. Her eyes were violet-tinted, swirling around her irises, which were also painted a delicate blue. It was almost as if she could know that I was looking for specific traits to make sure that what I saw was absolutely authentic. The delicate features that adorned her face were in the form that a human could comprehend, even though she still had a glow about her that shone through all the mist surrounding us.

“Boy?” she reached out her small wrist to touch my skin and she almost felt artificial, but definitely real. She was transparent by nature, but gave herself the feeling of solidity so I could feel her hand upon my shoulder, “Are you going to be alright?”

“I think so,” was all I could manage to say while the roar of the falls behind us seemed only a distant sound.

“I was lucky I saw you about to fall…” she smiled and her giggle was lyrical, almost like she could have written an entire symphony from her one giggle, “I just so happened to encase your body in an air bubble that helped prevent the loss of your life.”

“Wh…what?” I asked, completely dumbfounded.

“That way, you were able to not get hurt when you hit the water and you also would not drown.”

I could not dare tell the angel that I was not human, let alone a demon. What kind of reaction would I get if I went off blabbing a silly set of logic like that? She was almost too beautiful for me to even speak to her. My senses flared, the fear of my being discovered overwhelming my sensibility to form cohesive sentences, affecting every inch of my skin, and every thought that was racing through me.

“Did you not notice that was the way you had survived?”

“No,” I looked at her with eyes that almost seemed like they had never seen before. She was fascinating. She was beautiful.

“I half-expected that,” another symphony was composed on another small giggle and her eyes lit up, “I’m used to my work going unnoticed. Most of the time, it is. I never mind, though. It is my job to make sure I’m unnoticed.”

“How…” I paused and grabbed her hand. She let me feel it under mine and almost like I was completely weightless brought me to my feet, “How could you possibly go unnoticed? You are quite possibly the most magnificent creature I have ever laid my eyes on.”

“You are something that I did not expect,” she felt the obvious heat transpiring between our hands and looked into my eyes, “I know what you are…”

“Do you?” I asked, a fierce tone entering my voice, a noticeably fearful tone.

“But I am not afraid,” her hair shifted, almost like the water that surrounded us. I felt like I could drink her in and she could sustain me. I could not quite understand the sensation that was flowing throughout my body, but I wanted more of it.

“You’re not afraid?” she asked. I wondered, at that moment, if she really knew what I was or if she was trying to mask that fact because she was so pure that she couldn’t utter words with any ill meaning.

“Come with me,” she grabbed my hand, which felt so soft and powdery I were holding a satin-covered cotton ball that was woven from fresh cotton candy and guided me off the rock. We moved so quickly underneath the cascading falls no water hit us or saturated anything around us. Her wings were hidden, but she could move just as fast as I could. Her feet were practically dancing on top of the water. I knew we moved fast, but together, we did an intimate dance across the water, slow and graceful, almost like we were Prince Philip and Princess Aurora in Sleeping Beauty.

Sleeping Beauty…where did that come from?

She smiled and looked at me warming, leaning over and whispering into my ear with her icy chilled breath, “I loved that movie.”

“You’re an angel, aren’t you?” I looked at her, still dumbfounded. Now I was spouting idiocy that I was already aware of.

“And you’re a demon, aren’t you?” she asked, her toes kicking up a small amount of water as I twirled her underneath my arm. Her chest pressed up sweetly against mine and I held her close, my hands wrapping around her small body easily. Her wings felt like pure air underneath my hands, and I felt the gloves reacting to them. What? I immediately retracted my hands from her wings, but I could already see there was some damage done. The instant I had held her wings in my hands, there was damage. My hands were covered with a thick white powder that I tried seamlessly to rinse off in the waterfall behind me, but she knew. She already knew.

“It is not time for that.”

I pulled back, looking into her eyes. She met my height easily, which was awkward. I was used to looking down and speaking to women in any form, but being able to meet her in stature was something nice to share. She was still very tiny, tiny enough for me to nurture her.

WHAT? Why do I want to nurture her? I’m supposed to kill her.

“Listen to me, I need to have a discussion before the mission is completed prematurely,” she looked at me and we retreated into a small cave where we could seek shelter from the sounds of the water around us. We were both dry because we were not from this world, but there was still a question that I wished to ask her.

“Um…angel?”

“Phoebe.”

“Phoebe…” I let it slowly roll off my tongue and smiled deeply, loving the way it felt. I loved the way I felt right now. I felt lucid, like I was drunk. I wanted to feel more. I wanted to feel her body against mine again. I wanted her around for all time. But I tried to focus my mind again and ask her the question that was on my mind, “How do you know about this mission?”

“That’s why I was called to Earth, but I was called for a much greater reason,” she replied, her eyes closing briefly, “I wanted to enjoy the time I had left in my hometown before I have to die.”

“You…you know you have to die?” I asked oddly, knowing in that instant that I did not want to kill her. Why did I have to be the one to kill her? And why would such a pure, beautiful creature have to die?

“May I know your name since you know mine?”

Her eyes were so pure looking into mine that it seemed like she could cure me of my demonic nature and return me to my human state in an instant, if I would let her.

“Zachary.”

“Zachary…yes,” she smiled, almost all-knowing, and leaned over. What compelled her to do so, I would never know, but the next thing I knew, feather-light lips lie on my cheek and her eyes were closed. I could barely feel it, but I could feel her breath tighten as not to frighten me with her sudden appearance so close to me.

“Why did you come here, knowing you had to die?” I asked simply, wanting desperately to hold her close to me before she disappeared into the very wall behind us. It was almost as if she could dissolve in the water and be gone for eternity, for me to never see again. I would never have a reason to exist again…

“I am but a simple tutelary deity, Zachary, my duty has spanned far beyond your lifespan. I have watched over this waterfall for 5,000 years. It is time I retire,” she looked at me.

“Angels can retire?” I asked. How did I even know about that word, retire?

She giggled, and once again, composed a symphony. Or maybe it was a magnum opus? “I wouldn’t say retire. I’ve become very attached to this Earth in my time protecting it and the people around here. I’ve met strangers and saved countless people. Many people have seen me in any form that I may take.”

“Then why do you want to die?”

“It is necessary. It is my time to be sent to Earth to die…” she looked at me with eyes that were confident. I could see my figure in them ever-so-slightly, “And you will be the one to do it.”

“But…” my voice was cracking.

“Your human body won’t last you much longer. You’ve become attached to your time on this beautiful planet as well. The only reason you were able to survive was because I chose you to. The human traits that you have adapted to here would have instantly robbed you of your life. I had to preserve you…” she looked at me, grabbing me again with a soft hand, “But I must request something.”

“An angel…requesting something from a demon?” I could not move my figure. I was glued to the cold stone below me and all I could see was her. All I could feel was her. All I could smell was her. She smelled like honey and wildflowers, like a mere scent that was passing by with the wind. I didn’t want her to disappear. I had to find a way to make her stay with me.

“I want you to preserve your life. My time here is over. You came here with a purpose. I have been guiding you to me all this time,” she smiled sweetly, leaning over in close to me to let her breath hit my face again, “Zachary, now that you’ve developed human traits, you were able to see me. You were only able to feel me before.”

“I thought I was just adapting to the Earth…”

“That, yes, and if you hadn’t, you couldn’t see me in any form. Now that you have enough human in you, you can see me as a human. But you are still a demon,” she looked down briefly as she shuffled her feet on the rock, “And your duty must be done.”

“But Phoebe…”

“Zachary, this has already become too complicated. It needs to be done, and fast,” she looked at me with firm eyes, leaning in close once again to get my attention, “And I know you’re having doubts. I cannot give you any more information about it. What is asked for, must be done.”

“I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” Phoebe’s eyes lit up slightly as she looked at me in sorrow, “I have found the man…”

“The man, what?” I asked oddly, not know what she was getting at. It seemed an unfair advantage that an angel could read a demon’s mind.

“The man that I have been destined to meet. You are the only one that can kill me.”

“But why? Why do I have to kill you?” I cried out, not knowing the way I was feeling. I couldn’t bare to lose her, and I had known her for the span of 5 minutes.

“I can’t answer that, but I can answer the other thing that’s on your mind. It is the same emotion that I am experiencing.”

“And what is that?” I asked, so afraid of the answer, but more afraid of losing the angel I had come to know as my home.

“Love. You are in love with me, Zachary. You have fallen in love with me. And I you.”