Cavern of Remembrance(click to play,listen to this when you read my blog)

Friday, December 31, 2010

Happy New Year

Happy New Year everybody!

There were so many things that happened this year.


Happy things, sad things, excited things......


Well, they are all part of memory in my life.


Happy things bring nostalgia. Traumatizing things make me stronger.


And welcome 2011~~~!!!!!!!


So many things to look forward too as well.


I'll keep on writing on this blog I promise!


It's a part of my life now hehehe :D






Now, to celebrate the last day of 2010. I will now present to you a picture I drew of Zidane!


Please, please, no judgements. I do it out of love, respect it!




Pencil version(which in my view is so much better):



And traced version: I don't have the confidence to colour...


Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Passion's Side Effect Short Story (Dedicated to Jeemin Roh)

This is written according to her lyrics in the song~~

VOTE PEOPLE VOTE FOR HER IF YOU LIKE THIS. ;D



Passion's Side Effects



We say our hellos that end in goodbyes.



It used to be what I say to him everyday when I see him across the hallway. Sometimes he would pick me up outside of my house and we would walk to school together, holding hands and having small talks that we would forget the minute we start listening to the lectures of the teachers. We would laugh along the way, with our distance between each other so natural that it was almost joyful.

Our shoulders bump into each other once in a while, and we looked at each other's irises, and smiled.

"Hello," He would say.

"Hello," I would say.

After each day, the same thing happened.

"Goodbye," He would say to me at night.

"Goodbye," I would say.



It's so polite I almost forget

The way your lips felt under the streetlight



He would then bend down and kiss me. The luminent light on the streets shone on him in the perfect way. The nightly sky swayed above me, adding a calm atmosphere around us.He had a seduced expression on his face as he approached me. His eyes would glisten with a mixed emotion. It moved me.

Our lips went closer and closer.That was when our mouths touches. Our eyes closed one second before what we knew was coming.He would occasionally whisper my name against my lips, as if he was sighing.

I knew what it felt like.

***

His voice was soft with the goodbye. It was shaking vulnerably. I knew he did not want to hurt me. But it did.

My mind was completely blank, and then his voice vanished like the dust on my desk after my mom cleaned it. My life was back to normal, like he was not there in the first place.

But he was there. He once was. I remembered.

And even I was beginning to question my memory.

Was it even real?

Was it?



How you would throw me up against

The wall we scratched initials of our names with chalk.



During lunch, he would lure me away to MacDonald's or something and always give me half of his big French Fries. He would smile at me and push his half-finished fries towards me without a word. I took one and nibble with it for ten minutes. He would watch me.

We would go through my house later after lunch so that we could stay in the basement and either read or talk quietly so that we would not interrupt my little brother who was taking a nap during this time period.

I would always sit in front of wall where he wrote our initials on. It was written with white chalk, so we had to rewrite it from time to time.

He would suddenly capture my two wrists, sometimes my shoulder, and push me against that wall, then kiss me passionately. It would always make a huge 'thump'. It was supposed to hurt. It was supposed to be noisy. But I did not care anymore.

After patting the white powder off my back, he would laugh at my flushed face and tell me that he loved the salty taste of my lips from the french fries.

Maybe that was why he would give them to me.

And Maybe that was why I kept eating it.

Did you pay up your parents' phone bill caused by endless talks?

He'd call me everyday to say good night. But it never ended with just "good night" and eventually turned out to be a time more than one hour.I'd lie on my bed, hair wet from a hot shower, and lean slightly against the phone so that I would hear every bit of his voice.We used to talk about the things we see outside our windows. And when my curtains were closed I'd guess what I was seeing and lie to him because I was too lazy to open them. He'd catch me when I described the moon the wrong way, like when I said it was 1/3 arc when it was actually 1/2 full.

I once joked about our phone bills. And that he would be broke just trying to pay all for himself.He said his parents would loan him money, just that he'd have to pay them back in the end.I promised him when that happens, I would share half of the responsibility.

I wonder if I still have the right to take the obligation?

I'd count the freckles on your shoulder.They're sprinkled like stars, or on donuts.

I wanted to put my fingers on his shoulder, to count one by one his unique freckles. Touching through every one of them and smile and tell him how cute they were. Tell him how I want to bite it because donut sprinkles would look just like that.

I knew what he would do.

He would buy me a real donut in order to prevent me from biting him on the neck.It would be just a vampire, he would chuckle.

I've always wanted to do it.But I never did.

Maybe I should have.

And oh my God, I've become so hopeless.That's when I found out it had to end

I hate myself for not knowing where this relationship is going.
I hate myself for not being able to forget.
I hate myself for not wanting to forget.
I hate myself for wishing he is still by my side.
I hate myself.
I'm hopeless.
I'm hopeless.
Because I am thinking of asking him for help.
I am hopeless.

With all the letters that you wrote when I'se asleep.They now hide underneath the bed you swore you'd never leave.

He said that he wouldn't leave me alone that night. He sat beside my bed, stroking through my long hair.
Watch me sleep? I asked him.
Then that's just like Edward Cullen. He laughed.
He lied down beside me, with his eyes descended, covering his irises by eyelid. He looked half asleep except the fact he was twirling my hair between his fingertips.
I love you. He murmured.
I couldn't reply, sleepiness overwhelmed me.
Then he would hide underneath my bed when my parents came to my room to check on me.That was when he wrote small messages on the bottom of the wooden bed and sneak out in a way that I would never discover.
Check under your bed, I left a message. Was what he always said when I got mad at him for leaving.After a certain time, I stopped getting mad at him and began to go beneath my bed in order to check what he wrote.

The last time I checked, the little messages made the wooden bottoms invisible.

It felt like yesterday.

Now I feel just fine. I don't get nauseated when she'd kiss you.Lie, tell'em you're dead to me, ‘cause he'd hate it if I missed you.

I wish my laughter and the sardonic jokes about him with my friends would cover the sound of my heart breaking.He would never be dead to me. But I would never say that.
I missed him.But I would never tell anybody that.
I only used my boyfriend to forget about him.But I would never say that.
Not because it would hurt him.
Just because I want to shape my new relationship.
Just because it is not normal to think about him anymore.
Just because I did not want to show him any signs, any traces of my previous passion.

Bye, honestly, I hate-What we've become: so complicating to the point it's irritating.

What are we right now?
I wanted to ask him that.I am afraid.
Maybe we are not anything anymore. But maybe we are everything.
We can't put a name to this anymore. To this connection. To this distance.
Because it is too simple to put a name.
And 'us' is too complex.
I don't want to put a name.
It might ruin our balance.
Because maybe we are not anything anymore.

Passion's fun but trust is boring.Shut your mouth but keep it moving.

He should keep being himself. Because I love him for who he is.
He should fall in love with her. She deserves it.
He should stop trying to explain it to me.
Don't be dragged by me.Go.
I wish I was strong enough to shape my mouth into those words.

Too shy to tell him how we were.Wish I could spill it all the moreAbout all the fights and screams we shared.Never mind the nights and dreams alone.

What's wrong? My boyfriend asks me.
Nothing. I answer, smiling bitterly.
It's just something I've always had. I'm used to it.
What is it?
It's a side effect, sweetie.
Of what?
Of sickness.
The screechs, his roars echoed like a melody. I didn't care about waking up in mornings without his smile. As long I could dream about nightmares with him in it.
It's a sickness. It's a side effect.
Are you okay? He asks me again.
I'm okay. I reply, starting to sob. Because I want it.

I want it.

How much I miss you - I could never tell, I curse you, ‘Cause the hole you left a cavity, that's filled up by our brevityS-sickening. th-threatening. k-killing. st-st-stuttering.The side effects of you and me have left me broken.

Broken.

Shattered.

But I promise I won't make it difficult for you to move on.I swear my eyes will be typically dry when you say “Now I feel just fine.”I don't get nauseated when she'd kiss you.Lie, tell'em you're dead to me, ‘cause he'd hate it if I missed you.Bye, promise I will hate you.

He would never turn back at me and see if I was staring at his back anymore. He would smile to his new girlfriend when she sweetly beamed back at him, and then touching his shoulder to reach his cheek. To drop a kiss.
That would make it easier because I do not want him to know.
I don't want him to know all of the things I am going through.It's not his business anymore anyways. But I wonder....if I ever smiled like that when I was once with him.
I stifled all of my emotions when he talked to me in the school yard about the formal "goodbye".
I remember his expressions. They were full of sadness.
Thank you for being with me up until now, he said to me.
The words kept resonating in my brain.
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.
See you later.
Bye.


Passion is like a pill. It is like a drug. After you swallow it, the side effects will come. It is different for everybody.But side effects will eventually come.Sometimes it gnaws on your inside. Sometimes you feel dizzy and empty and collapse on your bed, thinking about how the pill would make you feel better.

How ironic.

Passion is like an eternal cycle.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Passion's Side Effects by Jeemin Roh

My personal good friend Jeemin Roh entered the radio contest with her songs :D She is a very talented song writer, especially at a considerably young age. She has a very very nice voice. The kind that echoes in your brain when you hear her songs. Her songs relate to me in a very peculiar way. Her voice makes me think that I was the one experiencing through everything, even though I didn't. The strong emotions are felt behind the words. It is indescribable. It's very quiet. It is very amazing how songs forms a bunch of stories in myhead.I would probably write a story or two with this song as background? I'd have to ask for her permission though :D EVERYBODY VOTE FOR HER!!!!

http://radio3.cbc.ca/#/bands/Jeemin-Roh

You may listen to her songs here :D
My favourite song is "Passion's Side Effects".
I listened to it so many times and had her send the song to me so I can put it on my iPod. This song shares so much contradictory emotions of love and passion. And how hurtful it felt when all the passion burned out and it ended with nothing. It shares the longing of being with the one you love, the yearning of getting back the quiet but warm times of merely the company of each other, of what two people do and the heartfelt emptiness when it was all gone. The girl loves him with such powerful love that it was causing pain in the heart. And instead of getting it all out she chose it let him move on and find another girl and not make it hard for him.

It's truly brilliant. This is the lyrics.

Passion's Side Effects :
We say our hellos that end in goodbyes.
It's so polite I almost forget
The way your lips felt under the streetlight ...
How you would throw me up against
The wall we scratched initials of our names with chalk.
Did you pay up your parents' phone bill caused by endless talks?
But I promise I won't make it difficult for you to move on.
I swear my eyes will be typically dry when you say "Bye,”
Promise I will hate you.
I'd count the freckles on your shoulder.
They're sprinkled like stars, or on donuts.
And oh my God, I've become so hopeless.
That's when I found out it had to end
With all the letters that you wrote when I'se asleep.
They now hide underneath the bed you swore you'd never leave.
Now I feel just fine. I don't get nauseated when she'd kiss you.
Lie, tell'em you're dead to me, ‘cause he'd hate it if I missed you.
Bye, honestly, I hate- What we've become: so complicating to the point it's irritating.
Passion's fun but trust is boring.
Shut your mouth but keep it moving.
Too shy to tell him how we were.
Wish I could spill it all the more
About all the fights and screams we shared.
Never mind the nights and dreams alone.
How much I miss you - I could never tell, I curse you, ‘Cause the hole you left a cavity, that's filled up by our brevity
S-sickening. th-threatening. k-killing. st-st-stuttering.
The side effects of you and me have left me broken.
But I promise I won't make it difficult for you to move on.
I swear my eyes will be typically dry when you say “Now I feel just fine.”
I don't get nauseated when she'd kiss you.
Lie, tell'em you're dead to me, ‘cause he'd hate it if I missed you.
Bye, promise I will hate you.


I got Jeemin's permission to put my story on :D
It is written according to the lines of the songs.
It's short but I think I did okay.
I love to capture the lines because her songs just make up stories themselves.
I will put it up later after I edit it.

ANYWAY PEOPLE VOTE FOR HER!!!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

"Impression of the West Lake" Review Part I

So, for this summer break I went to China.
I went to the "Xi Hu"-- West Lake.
That place is gorgeous. Amazingly gorgeous.
The lakes was surrounded by rows of willows. The willows were dangling in such proximity in the trees. There were lotus flowers and leaves all crumpled together in the middle of the lake and the lake was completely green and crystal-like. The Chinese styled little bridges and resting areas fit so perfectly well with the scenery that it was like a painting.
When I first saw it I felt bad because I couldn't find words to describe it. And I felt so distant with the magnificent scenery that I thought it wasn't real.
My mom said my facial expression was blank so she thought I hated it.





I took this picture when I was in the middle of the lake in a little boat. The wind was strong. But the beautiful and kinda scary sky can still be seen. It's only a part of it. Please ignore the people on the ridge. It is crowded over there.

When I got to my hotel. Oh my god. It's BEAUTIFUL.
It had this HUGE Chinese garden. It had a very serene atmosphere with a lot of trees.
It is so Chinese style. So traditional, I loved it.
It's like I was in one of the dynasties with all the people.
I've always loved the idea of the ancient Chinese culture and their life. I especially loved their clothes and arts and architecture.
I cannot believe that it was so magnificent.



One of the pictures I took when I was in the restaurant inside the garden.
When I saw it I was very much inspired and a story was forming naturally in my head.
It is very magical how these stuff just comes up. It was like a movie in my head.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

What I am Looking For

I don't have a big dream. And I probably never will. So what am I looking for in this life?
Well, a teenage female not unlike myself would say that we are looking for love. It doesn't matter what type of romance it is, it is got to be sweet and romantic, whether the romance is melodramatic or quiet and happy. Every girl dreams to find someone in movies or books, someone reliable, someone who has integrity, someone who would save you when you are in danger.
But when i hear it, unfortunately, I don't find this concept fascinating. Surely love is important. But is romance really necessary? Yes, I like to read something with a little romance in it, but in reality I do not have much interest in the romance about me. I don't LOOK FOR it, if it happens, it happens. And I'm happy. But if it doesn't happen. I can still be happy, right? So romance is not what I am looking for.
Maybe I am looking for a reason to be in this world? Not really. I believe that we have meanings the minute we are born. I strongly believe that the fact you are in this world is why you are in this world. I don't need the world's approvement to be in it, and I don't need anybody else. I believe that everybody live for themselves, and that it is their choice to dedicate it to somebody else.
Am I looking for a big life with tons of money and fame? Hmmm.....it is tempting but I don't have a reason to look for it. I am happy enough now.
So what am I looking for? What am I searching for?
I guess that it is an abstruse question. Instead of sitting down writing about my rhetoric question, why don't I just take action and find out?

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

The sound of the rain (Prussia x Hungary- Axis Powers Hetalia)

Wohoo my first fanfiction!!! :DD
So this is a fanfictions of Axis Powers Hetalia. It's a nice series. I have become quite fond of it. Really unique as well. I mean who would've thought of making all the countries into human??
My friends hate Prussia and Hungary as a pairing but i love it for some reason. It's an awesome couple after all.
They're referred to their own name in this fanfic because it is alternate universe (AU) in the Hetalia Academy. Gilber and Elizaveta in case you don't know.
Hmm i haven't updated my blog for a long time now..i've been pretty busy.
The ending is pretty vague and sudden i hope i haven't ruined this fanfic with that.
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The Sound Of the Rain

They were together as long as they remember.

Growing up from childish impudence to adolescent arrogance to proximity to adulthood, Elizaveta and Gilbert knew each other. Their mundane quarrels was beginning to look tedious. In childhood they fought each other and shared a million innocent laughters; Elizaveta thought she could grow a penis and Gilbert hoped that they could always be like this. In adolescent years she started to turn feminine, and began to approach the man of her dreams: Roderich Edelstein. Gilbert did not say anything, he merely watched in the corner of the wall and thought of prolific ways to tease her so that he could get himself frypan-ed. Eventually they were in Grade 12, considering about university, her acrimonious words began to seem futile and stupid to the both of them. Therefore the thought led to a stop to all the fun they used to have.

To Elizaveta and Gilbert both, they knew each other for so long that even things that people go crazy about like love and like-like were far out of reach. Neither of them knew whether if they were far above that or far below that scale.

Their relationship was simple. So simple that it was ambiguous.

Elizaveta, contemplating at apparently nothing, gazed blankly at the window beside her.

Clear, transparent drops of tasteless liquid dripped mindlessly from the grey sky, making a lethargic rhythmn. There were buildings outside on the edge of the big puffs of black clouds. Elizaveta pondered, at the back of her mind, what would happen if a bolt of lightning hit the town. Would their school get electrified as well? Rain - only slightly more basic in the pH scale than water- was conductive after all. The chatters in the classroom and the teacher's laconic lecture was cacophonous with the pitter-patter of the rain. She led out a breath and lay her head on her arms, green irises scanning the room. The usual scent of old pine wood was in the room, but she felt it was becoming far away. The flower clip on the right strand of her hair slid off, producing a clanking sound. Roderich, who was sitting beside her, gently clipped it back. She beamed in grattitude, body suddenly teemed with lassitude. Roderich sighed and quietly passed her a note.

Elizaveta leered at the elegant young man with perplexity. He was not the type of person that would pass notes during class, or would pass notes to anybody at all. He restricted every rule-bending actions when they were going out one year ago. Flipping the folded paper open, she saw a line of clean penmanship beautifully printed in the middle. Are you okay? It said. She tilted her head to meet Roderich's genuinely worried eyes. She nodded, smiling. The brunette man was not convinced, but let it go.

The school bell resonated in the entire school. It was dismissal time. Many student stood up just to stretch, this sedentary education must be irritating to some of them. Roderich greeted her goodbye and disappeared out of sight, probably heading towards the student council to meet the accountant Vash Zwingli to inform him some of the new budget in this school. Elizaveta felt a slim mist of disappointment rise up to her throat. They never go home together anymore, not since the break up. He was still being friendly and kind to her, but she missed those days, although she knew it was inane to think about things like that.

Quietly shuffling the textbooks into her bag, Elizaveta tucked the note into the pocket of her uniform. He broke the rule for her, she had to preserve this moment. She put the bag strap on her shoulder and walked to the door.

There she saw the silver short hair leaning against the wall. It was Gilbert, waiting for her, as usual.

The red orbs dropped their focus on the emerald green eyes. Without the usual violent or jocular expression, he withdrew his back from the wall:"I didn't bring an umbrella." He said calmly. If he was not always fooling around, she would have loved that low, steady voice of his.

"Neither did I." Replied Elizaveta, following Gilbert's steps. He had become so big these days. She remembered that she used to be extremely ticked off by that. But now....it was different. How different? She could not find the answer.

His shoulders were stretching rigidly in the form of inclined slopes. They took a sudden turn downwards, dropping into his arms. His back was wide, and somehow lonely. Inadvertently, she took a big step in order to close the distance between them and placed her small fingers on his backbone. It was surprisingly rough.

Gilbert flinched. "...Yeah?" He called in a mild astonishment.

Elizaveta jerked her hand away, inhaling:"Nothing."

They reached the entrance of the school. The girl furrowed slightly, reluctant to get herself into the cold wetness until an abrupt force closing down on her wrist. Before she knew, she was dragged in the arm by the silver haired 'barbarian' into the pouring rain. Bulging her eyes out, Elizaveta managed to choke out a faint protest. Gilbert, like his daily violent self, ignored it.

Their feet squished against the rain and into the cold, concrete ground.

The rain sounded louder and more lively than usual.

Gilbert had brought her to the bus station near a closed grocery store. The bus that stopped there was schedule to come ten minutes after the current time. They were not going to get on. Elizaveta understood that they were staying here in order to avoid the falling liquids. There was a small ceiling that secluded them from the wet world. They stood there without communication. She straightened out her long, tangled hair and sqeezed some of the water out. Seeing the white clouds coming out of her mouth as she slowly exhaled, the girl murmured:"It's cold."

Gilbert, discerning her tremor, unzipped his bag and rummaged out a clean towel. How could she not be cold with those bare legs? He thought as he handed her the white towel:"Miraculously it's not wet." A frivolous phrase, without the playful lilt, seemed ridiculously dull.

"Eh?" Asked Elizaveta, holding the towel. "Is it okay?"

"Yup."

"But won't you get a cold-" The sentence was left interjected when Gilbert impatiently snatched the towel from her and wrapped it around her head. The fuzzy texture gently rubbed against her delicate cheeks. ...Since when did she started to use words that seemed so frail to describe herself? She thought. Gilbert's thumb wiped some of the liquid off of her cheekbone, causing her to close one eye involuntarily. The rest of his hand was separated from her face by the soft fabric. His finger was warm, it felt nice. "Roderich won't want you to get a cold."He said it with such apathy that it was like a statement.

"Hm." Elizaveta nodded, narrowing her eyes as Gilbert took his hand away, a few strands of hair sticked onto the palm until it was too far.

His hand. It became so big. So much bigger than hers.

Every part of him, represented that he was a 'man'. Big hands, broad shoulders, occasionally visible muscles, focused eyes...

The incessant sound of the rain echoed into her ears.

As well as the voice that had a farmiliar ring to her brain.

Elizaveta's mind was slowly drifting away.

"Eliza!" The hand in her thoughts once again made contact with her cheek. She cringed backwards in surprise.

"What kind of face is that? Are you feeling sick?" The back of his thick fingers stroke her appalled face. Gilbert's eyebrows contorted together. The red eyes glinted in confusion.

"No-I'm," Elizaveta paused to take a fresh breath into her lungs. The cold air tickled her organs. "fine." She completed the sentence.

The hand did not remove itself.

"Really?" She noticed the bump on his throat was vibrating whenever he spoke.

"Y-eah." The girl made everything she said into two syllables.

Staring at the half delirious girl in front of him, Gilbert seized the white towel beside her cheek. The other arm stretched out to touch the tip of her lower lip. The childhood friend did not have much reaction, as if she expected it.

"Gil," She parted her shivering purple lips. It was like she was coaxing him into the imminent bliss. Emerald eyes sparkling, skin pale and soft, hair wet but silky, she looked absolutely graceful. "What's wrong..." The tone of the sentence did not rise up to a question.

Gilbert, maintaining his nonchalant expression, leaned downwards:"Nothing." He answered, closing his eyes. Her lips were so cold, he thought.

The imperceptible smell of rain intertwined with the masculine scent from his burning skin, diffusing into the air, into her nose, into her brain. The two smells mixed, and mixed.

Ah, whispered Elizaveta at the back of her mind. Their lips touched. He took her lack of resistance as a sign of acquiescence and began to slowly move his lips, pulling her cold body closer to his.

Her hand crept up until his chest. His beating heart was in proximity to her fingernails.

She felt dizzy.

Monday, January 18, 2010

A story that came out of my dreams

It was weird for me when I had that dream....But I think that it's so totally awesome that I should write it down.
The ending was kind of cliff hanging...if I want to continue it i might..but Checkmate is my major project at the moment so...maybe later?
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I woke up in the dark room.

It was at night. Although that assumption may not be correct. Since the window was blinded by some black heavy curtains.

After a minute of blanking out in space to make my eyes get used to the darkness surrounding me, I realized that I was not in an empty factory like I expected to be, like in a dramatic action movie, with the heroine exhausted and filthy and waiting for some prince on a white horse to save her.

Ha. Please.

The room I was in was small. It could be described as a little wooden hut that people live in on a farm or a prarie.

This hut had a refreshing smell that people would not be able to find in cities. It was certainly pleasing my lungs. They had too much toxic gas in here.

It was obvious that this hut had a residence.

A bookshelf was visible in front of me, with its back pressing against the wall on my right side. Then there was a dining table in the middle of the room, still wooden and small. I guessed that it was only capable of holding two people,otherwise there would be too little space. Under the table was a thick carpet, but the color could not be identified by me because the absorbant color of black sucked the glory of all the other colors. However from the fuzzy fiber, I could tell that it was made of some type of fur. It seemed like there was more things ahead of me, though it was too dark for me to see.

My head was drowsy as if someone had dosed me with a million liters of mercury. Putting that problem aside, I had the urge to screech in the highest pitch possible in order to obtain some kind of assisstance from any random people. Random people who were not reluctant or dispicable to help me. Random people who were genuine enough to not kidnap me for their personal gain.

Unlike the ones who brought me here. Desparate to get fame and fortune by threatening my parents.

I did not meddle or disrupt anybody's private life. Why do they have the right to interrupt mine?

More importantly, how could I LET them interfere with my life?

Right now, I was as ashamed as a criminal in prison, who caught his entire life flashing by him but not capturing a single sight of the colorful world.

My parents raised me and tucked me to bed everyday. I was determined to make them happy.

There was no way that I was going to be stuck in here. I could not waste my life here. I had to make my parents happy.

Hearing the creaking of the door on my left, I temporarily put a pause in my tension and pretended I was still unconscious.

Before closing my eyes, I saw sparkling stars on the nightly sky when the door opened.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to keep her here?" One voice said. It resonated in the room like thunder. I recognized the voice. It was one of my kidnappers. The one with a brunette buzz cut, wearing a leather jacket and a skull belt. He was very tall and had a crooked smile on his face when he approached me. "I mean, there is a small town down the hill. It's not even that far away. Look, it's not even half an hour for us to go to the local store and buy some food. And I swear, we picked the food for 20 minutes."

"Do you even know the name of this town?" Another voice complained. This one had a higher pitch. I remembered it as well. The hooked nose person. He shaved his head so his nose stood out for me even more. His eyes were pointing outwards. He was the type that always looks menacing without even trying to be. "Pfft i bet even the police is lame here. Besides, this house is completely empty. Nobody is gonna know. I think the owner doesn't have a habit of locking the doors though, this place looks new." From that cynical statement I amended the frightening image of the man.

"What if the owner comes back then?"

"Relax!! I have a car hidden somewhere near here. If anything happens we just cut leave the girl and go. The dad is gonna hand us the cash immediately anyways. His precious daughter just turned twenty-one and she has a boyfriend. And before he comes with the money. You and I can enjoy some ecstacy with the beautiful daughter over here huh?"

And other one joined in the diabolical laughter to make a harmony.

I suddenly had a rush of adradeline due to the impulse to beat these two people to death. Nonetheless my rational thoughts restrained that urge. There was no possible chance that I would win against two muscular, strong men. Retaliating would be a catalist to imminent danger.

My eyelids wanted to open and see. But I forced them down.

Something vibrated against the wooden floors. It sounded like farts.

"Hello..?" The man with the huge nose picked it up casually and spoke. Although the indifference vanished the next second along with my ration:" What ?! What do you mean the parents are dead?!?!"

Then clamors of the two people's voices exploded in the room, yells of rage. Nevertheless I could not hear what they were saying anymore. They did not matter to me more than that simple sentence.

PARENTS. ARE. DEAD.

DEAD.

D-E-A-D.

OUT OF LIFE. MOTIONLESS. COLD. DARK.

Words blinked through my inner retina.

I felt like the world around me swiftly shattered into pieces, leaving into the void without a rope attempting to save me. I kept falling and falling and falling. But there was no suspensed heart.

No more warmth, no more of those smiles.

The next moment, tears began to flood out of my eyes. It took all my stength to gulp the pathetic weeps and cries down my throat. I remained motionless. I continued to let my tsunamis of emtion crash on the shores of my heart and brain.

While I was concentrating on calming myself down, I did not realize when the phone call ended and the noises subsided. I breathed in with my nose and slowly led out the air i took in order to make it unnoticable. My heart beat was pummeling against my bones so fiercely that they could practically crack.

And I would not feel it.

"......What are we gonna do? We have no money, a girl and in the middle of an unknown town." The buzz cut guy whispered absent-mindedly.

"Do you think.....we can sell her as a sex toy?" Said the other man. "I mean, she is pretty and no scars anywhere..I bet she can somewhat sell her for a fair price."

They were still thinking of a way to get money.

Nausea nearly came out.

"Okay. I don't care what happens to her. But first I think we need to get some fuel for the car. It's gonna be a long drive."

"Good thinking. There's a gas station not that far away from the driveway. Let's go there and buy some and then get her."

There was a sound of feet tapping on the ground. They were getting up.

The taste of hatred was in my tongue, I did not know how I did it, but it managed to not pounce on the men and scratch their eyes out.

Before they left, one of the men lifted my chin to give me some more of the medicine that doses people. They put it in a cup of water, letting it flush down to my stomach. However i stuck the pill with my teeth and hid it under my tongue. Fortunately my head was slightly tilted so it was within the reach of my teeth. I waited until their presence faded away.

I spat out the pill the moment the I felt that they were not near. My chest was heaving frantically due to the long endurance of sorrow and dispair. I was hyperventilating. Tears gushed out from my eyes and blurred my view. I was finally able to led a soft cry.

Portions of the pill must have went into my body when I drank the water. Already it was doing its work. It was not enough for me to completely pass out, but enough to make me uncapable of walking. My legs were tremoring when I tried to stand up.

I intended to run away. Since I could not, I had to consider another plan.

Slowly I made my way to the bookshelf that belonged to someone else and shuffled my across every level of the shelf. I collapsed onto the floor and hit my knee whenever my legs failed to receive my brain signal. I was not going to let that stop me. Eventually I felt a paper knife on the third shelf.

New plan: Make myself unattractive to sell to sex bussiness man.

The least they could do was to get rid of me. They would not kill me unless under demand. Murderer would bring a serious consequence. They were not ready to inflict that kind of trouble on themselves.

I was not going to give them what they want. And I was not going to commit suicide like some lame weak girls. My parents died. I bet they would want me to live. If I could not make them happy when they were still alive, I could prove to them that I could live as well as others when they were watching in heaven.

That was my weak rationality speaking.

My emotions were screaming of help, hysterical like a little puppy who got hit by a bus. It was crazy, jammed, chaos.

My desparate gasps for air substantiated that fact.

The conflict in my brain messed up my mind even more.

I stumbled over to the window, ripping the black curtains off of it. Window was big. I opened the window and stuck my head and arms out, still weeping. There was grass underneath.

Quickly I pushed the sharp parts of the paper knife out of its plastic protection. It seemed sharp, gleaming under the moonlight. Without much thinking, I grabbed my long brown hair and began to cut it short and as uneven and ugly as possible. After I have done my work, I put the sharp edges of the against the outter side of the wrist. "No scars" he said? Now my body was going to be full of fresh blood. I slowly pressed it down to my skin while sliding it at the same time, watching the red liquid seeping out from the scarlet flesh.

Blobs of blood fell onto the green grass, making a perfect contrast.

Red and green. How Christmas.

During the process of cutting, I bit on my lower lips so tight that the metal taste of blood was beginning to stimulate my tongue.

It hurted. So much. But it was nothing comparing to the death of my beloved parents.

I kept cutting. Even when the tears in front of my pupils were gradually turning red, i kept cutting.

"Claire!!!!!" Abruptly there was a sound of my name and a thud of the door flunging open behind me.

Startled, I snapped my head to the source of the noise.

There was a young man standing there.
He had an astonished yet anxious expression. His eyes were bulging out, mouth opened loosely. There was sweat dripped down his cheeks. I could make out a few heavy breathing using my incoherent brain.

His left hand was still on the door, stretched out all the way. He was wearing a beige clothing that was designed to look like a military soldier, though it was not camoflouge. I could not see his face because the blue cap on his head shadowed most of it, but a glimpse of short blond hair was visible.

He had sapphire blue eyes.

He stared at me with that face.

I stared at him.

That was how we met.

* * *

Grey

That was how we met.

The minute I striked the door open, she was there.

Her hair was unevenly short and messy, almost zigzagged. Her mint green eyes were crazed with fear and bravery,contradictory but blended perfectly. Tear traces were on her cheek and there was some glimmering liquid hanging in her eyes. She was kneeling down. Blood was leaking out from her outter wrist. I heard small weeps coming out from the inside of her throat.

She was holding a black paper knife. It was tainted in bits of flesh and blood.

It was my knife.

And suddenly I did not know how to ask for it back.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Untitled

Sorry that i haven't been able to post lately!! I was on vacation and after vacation i was busy catching up with tests...quizzes..blah blah blah
So this is a short thing that i came up for by impulse :D
I was bored one day and i wrote this
It's short but my friends told me to give it to a contest or something
I hope it's entertaining for you guys
This may be kind of dark and gory and confusing for some of the people so discretion is advised.
There is swearing in this so ya don't let your parents see this XD
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The girl is standing on a pointy tower.
Black hair, with a short blue dress like a mermaid. But it is torn, so maybe a fallen mermaid.
Her legs are revealed when the wind's naughtiness brings her dress up. The legs are not white, not marble, not perfect.
There are scars, dark scars, purple, blue, fresh red, and black.
Her long black hair is no where near her skin, they're curling, dancing frantically with the wind. The hair playing the female role, with the wind leading like a proper gentleman. Waltz? No, it is too fast and frequent to be a waltz. But it is not as shaky as salsa. So...perhaps an elegant tango.
Her back is towards me. She is facing towards sun, towards heaven. Although there is no heaven. Anywhere.
I cannot see her appearance.
The sun is purple.
She is scrawny. So thin that she is the air itself.
But not transparent.
Blood is tainting her scorched skin. Blood is seeping out from her scars, dripping down like ruby tears.
There are nothing surrounding her except for a desert full of corpses. Dead bodies. Some bodies are already bones, some are fresh, and some are mainly dry with black skins attached to a part of it. Their expressions are excrutiatingly tormented. The type that no human would want to witness. But that is the ugly truth. Repugantly beautiful.
A sword is visible. It is stuck in the middle of the slender tower, as if someone jabbed it in there. But it is still powerful, forceful, teeming with pride and glory. Nothing could hide the sense of bitter triumph under the green rust.
A dirty world, an impeccably nauseating world.
But there she is, standing above all the people. Standing above the dead. Standing above me.
She did not turn around.

Opening my eyes, I am in my room once again.
My room is white, the sunlight draping in onto my bed.
There is nothing in the room except for the bed I am lying on. It is tidy, clean.
It is so bright.
In contrast of the world in my dream.
I do not know where it is, nor who am I in there.
I only know that the girl is there, and i was staring at her like she is the dream i am chasing.
Everything about her, makes me want to drown in the dream and never wake up.
I know it is another me.
The other me whose heart is beating in sync as hers.
The other me is non-existant in any world.
This me is hollow.
Like a shell.
I know this is the reality world. And the dream is just an absurd piece of fantasy.
But i cannot help but fall. Fall for the blood. Fall for the twisted image. Fall for the world. Fall for the girl.
In the dream. There is no me.
There is only her.
In the real world, the 'me' is irritating. The additional thought, the speach, the taste, the smell, are all fretfully annoying.
The existance, the presence, the people around me.
They seem so fake.
They live for themselves, they evolve around no one else.
The real me doesn't belong here.
Makes want to vomit all the disgust out. But I am not going to do it. Because the disgust will never run out. As long as I am in this world, It will never run out.
Please don't make me stay.
Don't wake me up.
Let me sleep.
Let me sleep.
Let me return to that world, where she is standing.
Let her free.

-------------You have no idea what you are talking about!!
---------------No she is real!!!!! You don't understand!! You don't understand!!!
---------------This is reality!!! Wake up and live in it!!!
---------------No!!! This is all a lie!! I don't belong here!! Let me go! She is there!! I have to go!!
---------------Stupid!! *slap* You fucking son of a bitch!! Like a mental doctor like me would ever treat a psycho like you!!!


You are all monsters.
How can monsters understand my feelings.
Monsters have no brain.
They cannot see what I am seeing.
That beautiful sight.
I am going to that world. To see her again.
See her standing on the tip of the pure white tower.
Let me sleep.
Let me sleep.
Let me get to that taste of bliss.

-End?-

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Some of my friends told me to continue it....but i don't know how....