Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday, Midnight Wolf!
Happy Birthday to me
Author's Note: Whether this is a poem, or a carefully worded ramble, I do not know. But I wrote this during a rather depressing region of my life. My past mostly resembles a nightmare, and although I was getting out of my depression slowly, events that had previously happened to me and causing my depression seemed to return, so that is what this post is about. I'm very sorry it's so dark, I no longer feel this anymore. I am overall a rather positive individual. ^.^
Hiding the scars than run deep in my soul.
My past, once left behind, is catching up.
I'm running, but like a dream, I can't move fast enough.
It's coming to hurt me.
Haunting my nightmares and not letting me free.
The world is changing around me.
I hang onto love, but the surrounding world is darkness.
The abyss and a void.
Feelings and emotions frey beneath my fingers and the cuts run deep.
Deep enough to line the true me with bloodshed and tears.
I have dark smiles.
Author's Note: From "Spilling Ink" by Anne Mazer and Ellen Potter, one activity was to write a scene about a circus, but making it dark and grim. This is my creation.
The lights flashed and the music blared. Strobe lights flickered and cast shadows to stretch tall and thin against the dark grass. The hands of the shadows tried to snatch at wandering ankles, attempting to drag the walker inside the large tent, looming over passers by. The flags waved, beckoning travellers inside, waiting for the evil grins, plastered on the faces of clowns to dissolve into focus. The eyes glared and the paint ran smoothy down their faces, mingling the the sweat from their brows. These jokers were in no way humorous, but the grim subjects of children's nightmares. The tight-ropes swayed and the ground shook. Elephants feet pounded against the floor causing the ropes' bindings to creak and groan as though longing to be freed. The smell caught tight in the throat, as stale popcorn and old hot dogs wafted in the air. Their scents milling in the enclosed space as workers and visitors crushed them beneath their feet. The stands rose high in the air, ready to be packed with those foolish watchers. Their sticky seats ready to trap whomever wished to sit on them. This was no place for a free man.
Author's Note: I wrote a prologue, or summery of a fantasy story. This was swimming through my mind and I decided to write it down. At first, it was originally a role-play setting (because I'm that much of a nerd), however, I liked the sound of it as a story. Perhaps something will come of it one day, but perhaps not. We shall see. I had plans to turn this prologue into a challenge. A participant would choose an unnamed character and continue the story. However, I have received comments about how confused readers were and about it's incompleteness. I may have to edit this if that is the case, but this is was originally a starter point for a role-play, so I simply could not complete the story.
As far as setting and background, I'm proud of this role-play. However, the plot seems childish to me and lacks development. Many characters are unnamed because they are the roles that other role-players can choose from. The male and female Keeper, as well as the children. The current Leader could also be a possible role choice.
In the city of Bridgeview, mortals ruled. Ordinary people roamed the streets, working in the saw mills and iron industries. These humans whiled away their busy days working, spending many a credit at their local markets, and caring for their families. Those in the slums of the city still had a fair amount of money, but marvelled at the highers as they brought home wild beast for their wive's to roast.
These simpletons lived their lives day after day with very little concerns. However, there were those who possessed great powers and were feared by all others.
These holders of power were not violent beings, but dreamed of living amongst the mortals of Bridgeview, working and earning like the rest. However, they were cast aside and shunned by the city. Even the villages nearby would not accept them, for they feared their abilities incase someone went rouge. And this is exactly what happened many years ago.
A simple being of power, possessing the ability of pain, struck out against the Leader of the land and caused death to fall upon the castle. Mican believed himself to be more than a simpleton. Greater than even the higher and the greats. He craved blood shed and anguish, and thus, a war broke out over the land. A young girl, daughter of the departed Leader, also possessed a great power. She had not inherited her deceased mother's gift to heal, but instead the ability to control fire. Flames of a dragon issued from Ciria's warm heart, and as she lay dying on the streets of Bridgeview, pain coursing through her veins and blood spread around her like a shield, she cursed Mican, and he fled. Many believe him to be defeated. That death's cold hands had wrapped its icy grip around his throat, bringing him to his knees. Others sided the rumour that he was simply banished. Biding his time outside the walls of the city, too weak to continue his fight. His powers were perhaps lost, or his body not strong enough to cast them. But the fact that these two stories shared, was that Mican no longer resided in the city of Bridgeview.
The remaining people of powers were looked down upon. Cast aside and banished. Many were put to death, their families shunned, holding the title of disgrace above their household. Others left the city, not knowing what was on the other side of Bridgeview's walls, if anything. Perhaps those locked gates guarded a hell that wrapped around the city, enclosing it in a dome of safety. Or else a void spread to the depths and past the walls was bleak nothingness where no man could survive. Eventually all possessors of power were extinguished. The race died out and there was an extinction of all magical abilities. The city was at peace again, and a new Leader took the throne. All that resided in this land was mortal. A city of beings who prided themselves of being in the normality.
Or so they thought. At the edge of the city was a ruined building. An old factory or hospital, no one was sure. Most dared not to step close to it's wrought iron gates, let alone enter. A few reckless children played games, proving immature bravery. They would climb over the gates, or else slip through the bars. The closer to the brick walls they stepped, the higher the respect they gained from their fellow friends. Understandably, most were punished by parents or teachers. Some were taken to the Leader, facing harsh punishment and wrath. However, those who managed to step inside the wooden doors of the old building had a fate set upon them so definite and terrible that few attempted the trick. They would never return to this world. Never again would they walk on the cobbled streets. They did not exit those doors once entered, and fear spread through witnesses. Many families lived in grief after losing mindless children and reckless dare-devils. No one knew what had happened to them, or even if they were still alive.
Yet a question broke out over the city, that was not easily forgotten, yet never answered. What resided in that building, and why was it a forbidden place? Clearly it held dangers unimaginable, and fates worse than death if one was to step close. But no one had ever seen movement behind those shuttered windows, alive or dead. No mortal dared to ask, yet they all wondered. Curiosity rarely got the better of the humans, but they never ceased to ponder.
Although most believed the possessors of power to have died out long ago, inside that building was a different world. A miniature land that secrets never escaped. This was not a ruined factory, nor a forgotten hospital. Yet, it was a place of healing. A place of learning. Outside, the brick walls crumbled and cracked. Dust filled the air and vines crept up its sides like fingers. The gates alone, rusted and strong, were enough to give anyone nightmares. But inside, the walls were painted white. Various chips and cracks covered up with paintings traced by a child's hand. Many rooms rested inside creating a maze, yet all who lived their knew their way by heart. The footsteps of children ran through the corridors. Their little feet padded along the linoleum floors knowing the directions better than the minds they belonged too. Cries of laughter and booms of explosions echoed through the halls, and although many were yet to see the sun beyond the centred courtyard, the residents felt safe. They were happy. Glee filled this place of suspected terror, yet they were the only ones who knew it.
Scattered through the various bedrooms and classrooms were children. Children of unique personalities and names. Children of different ages and stories. But the emotions shining across each individual face were not the only unique aspects about them. These children were the last holders of power. Their parents, each possessing no magical gifts of their own, had birthed young ones that had acquired the genes to wield powers. These abilities had been passed on to mortal-borns in unknowing ways. The fact was curious that some could transform or manipulate elements, when their families possessed no abilities themselves. Either ashamed or scared, the parents of these children had disowned them. Left in the corners of streets and abandoned works as infants, none older than a few months. The cries echoed in the streets, enough to shake the moonlight and vibrate the dead into movement. But although abandoned they were, they were not alone.
Two Keepers, both of young themselves had searched through the darkness, hunting the beings that started the cries. A young girl, no older than nineteen, had stolen the tears of children left behind. She had saved them from harm and fear, and brought them to the abandoned building, shielding them from danger. Cast aside herself, this girl had made home in this building. Finding scraps to reinforce it's crimped walls and lack of food. Supplies were slim, yet they fought to survive and protect. Comforting children and helping them grow. Education was slim, and so was the food. But although she believed to be the only young adult who possessed powers of secret abilities, she was strongly mistaken.
There was another. Strong at heart, and equally in mind. He hid in the shadows, fleeing from mortals and hunting scraps. Stealthy though he was, he had also been caught. Captured and tortured, scars ran throughout his memories, as well as is skin. Mortals feared his powers, but they were never strong enough, whether in conscience or body, to kill him. Therefore, he escaped his torture, and fled from the Leader and his army. This man found sanctuary in the old building, proving his powers to the resident. She helped him regain his strength, and explained her duty as a Keeper. Protecting and educating children. Stealing them from abuse and abandonment. This girl was thin and weak. She needed help and assistance. The man offered to stay, and he too became a keeper of this sanctuary. The two keepers, both possessors of power, hunted for food, raising the children and protecting them from the mortals and families that had banished them. Their existence kept in secret, they remained in this place as the children grew, but all children have questions and adventures to feed their curiosity. Where were their parents? Why were they unloved but all mortals, and what aid did these powers grant them? Perhaps they would learn. Perhaps they would grow to become keepers, or else rebel against the Leader and his hated of immortality. Peaceful though these possessors of power were, future war may not be avoided. And who's side would they join if Mican was to return?
Author's note: I decided to write a short story, not from a young girl's point of view, but from an older male's.
A business man finds himself highly attracted to his beautiful secretary, but is too shy to tell her, or ask for a simple date. The two interact with each other in ways stronger than words with a twist hidden among their actions.
Can you guess what the twist is?
"So I really like this guy, and in my opinion he's perfect. I think I love him."
I wish I heard those words issue from her sweet lips. That tiny, pink smile can brighten up my day, even in the darkest of times. I gaze at her beautiful, golden hair as is swishes in the invisible breeze flowing through the open office window. She moves her head as she talks animatedly, her hands and fingers dancing at a lightning speed. I can almost feel her emerald eyes sparkle, and her nose begins to twitch as though she is trying not to laugh at the information she has just revealed to me.
I smile as her nose twitches and she covers her hand with her mouth. Those delicate eyes crinkle in laughter and I take a step towards her. She lowers her hand and I read the apology formed from her lips. She adjusts her black pencil skirt and smooths her white blouse, attempting to compose herself.
If only those words of sweet love could be heard. If only she would take a step closer, the scent of her perfume dancing with my cologne. If only I could hear her speak that confession. If only. But alas, I cannot hear those words. I cannot hear anything.
"Sir, I need you to sign this before I hand it in to Mr. jackson." She offers me the contract I had previously read, lowering her right hand as she ceases to speak. I innocently smile at her, forcing my concentration back to the business at hand. Truthfully, my attention had wavered as she spoke, and rather than concentrating on her delicate fingers, my mind was lost in her honey hair.
Skimming through the details hidden in the document, I scribble my signature at the bottom of the page and hand the clip board back to my secretary. As she reaches out to hold the contract, her pale hand lightly brushes against my own, sending shivers up my spine which force me to stand up straight. With a final smile she nods her head, letting the sunlight glide through her hair and I view a "thank you" formed from her lips.
I turn back to my desk watching a shadow slide across the room as the office door closes. I know I'm alone. I glance at the pile of papers strewn over my desk, my name plate pushed aside by the careless placement of my work. Sighing, I lower myself into my chair and attempt to straighten the papers into various piles on my desk, throwing highlighters into drawers and tossing a sweet wrapper into the trash can by the door.
Barely had I began to lower my arm after my graceful toss when the door inched open again. That beautiful face peered around the newly formed crack and I couldn't help but let a smile escape from my lips. Opening the door wider, my secretary walked into the room, letting her long legs tiptoe across the carpet, balancing on delicate kitten heels. She opened her mouth showing dazzlingly white teeth, her lipgloss shining with the movement. I watched as her hands lifted and her fingers danced and spiralled, creating precise movements that translated into words too sweet for even her lips to form.
"Would you like to grab dinner with me tonight?"
Separate names with a comma.