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16 June 2008 @ 06:16 pm

How long ago those blissful moments of happiness feel. All that remained from those days of celebration was blur, swept away by more omnipresent thoughts. Still, he struggled to remember. The queens face ripe as the full moon, the billowing music, and peering inside the carriage to see two sets of curious eyes that stated back. Ringing in his ears was the drum of rain around him, seeping through the tree’s protective ceiling. Instinctively he tightened his grip hoping that she was warm enough. That was all that matters now, the present despite how grim it was forming to be. Not so long ago, it seemed to be a rich place to indulge, to enjoy. It involved the kingdom’s finally prospering and guiding the princess’s to greatness. It was Folleta’s will and fates doing. Untangling himself from the warmth of the past, he concentrated on the pain of his dragging legs. He let his mind to drift and unwillingly entered the night that everything went wrong. Of their drunken shenanigans around the fire, celebrating the new births their own way. They had not left the king and queen completely unprotected…the royal guards were there, and were soon silently killed. He could see the light of the next morning, everything was dizzyingly sharp and his mind was slow and his body unresponding around him until they were found. The messenger relied the news and they left their party to find that everything was true. Horribly true—and it will never end. It was a nightmare he couldn’t escape, the walls being to high to scale. It was the first time that he couldn’t fight his way out of scenarios. And it was his fault. Immediately he could feel his body bristle—but it was true. Brought back from the torture he stopped and stiffened, dropping his hand to the handle of the sword.

It was all gone.

His eyes scanned the dense forest for the intruder, his body rigid preparing for a fight despite the ache.

“Peace brother,”

He remained stiff but recognized the voice.
 
 
16 June 2008 @ 04:48 pm

A few things,

Misty sat on the hill her face kicked back facing the endless blanket of sky. “It was not my fault,” She said slowly, calculating every word. “It was his,” Misty said this with finality as she looked at James. “It was his,” She repeated numbly just so she could hear those words. “It was his,” Misty stared straight at James and a smile broke across her face. Ebbing through that thick membrane was another person, someone that Misty could have been. But will become. “It was his fault!” She shrieked with delight. A burden fell from her shoulders. A smile as radiant and colorful as a rainbow. Misty grabbed James’ face in her hands her eyes sparkling with a new hope and kissed James. “Good night, my friend: I can express no kinder sign of love, than this kind kiss.” Before shock could register on James’ face Misty stood up and sprinted down the hill laughing care freely.  She was free to go, free to leave, free to fly away. She was leaving without saying a single word of goodbye to him only the ringing laughter of this new person. And the words he had wanted to tell her had simply died in his throat, a thousand pent-up emotions under lock and key. He silently watched her going farther away and realized who she was.

 
 
07 March 2008 @ 05:09 pm
 This is the begining of a new story I'm writing (well it just came out) Is it good or too much like Twilight? Plus it has typos

It was the longest summer in my life. Perhaps it was because I lived two separate lives. 
One with my mother and another with my father who divorced that spring. It was the ending of a good school year, plenty of laughs good memories decent grades but all of that was ruined when my parents cornered me and slowly explained to me the reasons of their ‘separation’. It was a big shock because they didn’t show any distain for one another but once he actually listened, it was obvious. Nothing could have been done to fix it. It had been destroyed for a while. 
My summer consists of fights over furniture which house would I sleep in. I lost contact with my friends who slowly adjusted without me, bored with me not answering the phone, not being in town. Although no one understood. I had to help my dad struggle through this divorce, he was left broken and wounded missing my mother while she remarried within five months. I had to spend most of my time with him as he greived. I had spent the last week before school began with my father. It was long and hot, spending most of our time on boats in the middle of lakes fishing. I never liked fishing, you cannot speak nor move unless you would provoke the fish. I was always entertained by the colorful baits and the little fish darting beneath the boat. 
Now I stood before the wide window watching the planes land and go to hide into the swimming clouds. My father had left to go to the bathroom leaving me to watch the landscape. Sweet Atlanta. That’s the only way I could describe this city. I reach into my pocket and rolled the peach around letting the tips of fingers feel the skin. Behind me the travelers hurried from terminals to emigration. I can’t help but sigh at the fact that I would be joining them to go to terminal 4B and take the 12:00 flight. I feel my dad taping my shoulder as the loudspeaker announces that boarding for the Norfolk Virginia flight. Silently we trudge toward the line and as we wait my father manages to gather a few words. 
“I hope you have a nice year.” To him it seemed like a lot of wisdom but I kept it in my back pocket. 
“Thanks,” I said feigning a smile. Before walking into the plane I turned to quickly wave then disappear into the monsters belly. As the plane took off and sailed through the clouds I pull out the peach and bit heartingly into it, as if carrying Georgia with me. I cannot finish it though. I notice the sticker telling where the peach was bought and I bring it heavily down. 
I had to forget, was it childish to miss your home? To want to keep it on your shoulder. I had to forget, to turn my back and move forward. Which was with my mother in Norfolk Virginia which seemed to be such a alien place despite the fact that it was only three states along. I wondered whether my father would be okay. He was still frail with desperation but he needed to move on—something I reminded him daily. If mom could, surely he could too. 
I was leaving everything in Georgia for my mother in Virginia who recently decided that I should move up there too, even if I didn’t want too, even if my father needed me more but she had reasoned that I was her son and she should have “a little piece of me too.” It was not my say. I was still considered to be a minor therefore “the kid” was exchanged between my parents like a delicate vase that had been dropped too often. 
Soon I fell asleep with the taste of Georgia sweet in my mouth. Although it was gone when I awoke and when the plane landed onto the new land. My muscles numbly shifted around me as I gathered my two bags and ambled out of the plane swept away with the crowd eager to get out. When I stood in the airport though I could not recognize my mother. She was not here. I should not have been surprised but I was bitter. Forced to come here and she didn’t even arrive on time. I gritted my teeth in anger that boiled out of me as I went to get my bags. As I stood waiting for my bag to come around on the converbelt I cursed this place, wishing not to be here. Suddenly I felt someone hug me from behind and I turned to see my mother. 
“Briar you’ve gotten so tall.” She cooed as she pat me on the head. I attempted to keep myself happy not to spoil my mother’s good humor. “Thanks mom. Where were you?” I asked as I noticed my green bag coming around. 
“George’s car wouldn’t turn on.” She said rolling her eyes as she lurched forward to grab my bag. 
“No, that’s okay.” I muttered as I dragged it off onto the floor. 
“So…whose George?” I asked dreading to now. 
“My new friend. I met him at the library.” She was finding men at the library now? She said as she grabbed the handle and rolled my bag while my carry on was swung on my shoulder. While we walked outside into the Norfolk day. 
Sunny but there was a slight breeze. My mother happily chattered away as we walked down the path looking for the silver Mercedes Benz that was driven by this George. I half listened although I was too distracted by the differences of Norfolk. There weren’t too many but I noticed the small details that were missing. I caught pieces about how much she loved Norfolk, how I would love it (eventually?), how great the highschool is and the wonderful new house she bought.
 She was describing it in detail this new house she managed to buy with her divorce money and my room. Apparently she painted the walls and put some furniture in it. Although I doubt that it would be much help. Still she seemed thoroughly happy and I didn’t want to upset her. My mother is not the person you would want to have as a enemy. The delay in Georges arrival wasn’t too good since we aimlessly circled the parking lot but he appeared too. A man leaned out of the passenger window and waved to me. As we neared he smiled and said. 
“Hey Briar,” He was addressing me as if I knew him all of my life, as if this meeting was not our first and that we had plenty prior. Matching him I replied, 
“Hello George.” My mother introduced us and he got out to properly shake my hand then open the back to load my bags in. 
“Hope you’re going to stay a while.” I have a choice? I was momentarily thrilled by that but said nothing. 
“Yeah,” I muttered. I sat in the back of the car and grumpily stared out my window purposely avoiding watching George and my mother talk. I hated the way she looked at him and I knew that this was more than friendship. Again I felt like a child and couldn’t say anything. I hated it, not having freedom. Not having my own say. I closed my eyes and disappeared. I didn’t realize when we arrived there but I heard the car doors open and shut. I opened my eyes to see the largest house. As I slid out of the car I stared at the house in near shock. It was easily three floors, wide windows, a manicured lawn (likely the work of my mother), next to similar houses, yellow, white porch, and a basketball hoop (for me,)....
 
 
Current Location: Living Room
Current Mood: mellowmellow
Current Music: The Great Escape
 
 
03 March 2008 @ 08:46 pm
 Experimenting from a different perspective and a different writing style that I think accomdates this character.

He had not forgotten her story. He considered it daily, wondering what to do. His instinct had told him to spring upon it now, but instinct tended to be a bit reckless. It was time to wait and listen, acting accordingly, which was to continue beating down the garbage. 
He noticed how she was fading but did nothing about it. He walked into the room to find her and a bandaged ankle. At the sight of him, she stiffened; freezing to hide anything away that would displease him. 
“What did you think you were doing?” He hissed. When she sullenlu didn’t respond, he leaned forward, 
“You are a maid! You work for us! You owe us, and look at you idly lounging about.” She lowered her head. 
“And your damned wolf will not stop scratching the front door.” He added, 
“Look at me! Look at me, when I’m talking to you!” He shouted. He leaned forward tightly gripping her face and yelled in her wide blue eyes that held to a broken determination. 
He dropped it and turned his back to her attempting to compose himself and his anger that kept firing up. Her quiet, thought was haunting but her eyes spoke as clearly as any words. 
"Why, I ought to!” He roared suddenly enraged, turning toward her to strike her, to release the growing need of violence. She whimpered and cowered beneath thin shaking arms. At that moment he was hit with such a force he was weakened and once the spell was over he was left with a throbbing head. He put his hand to his head and she did the same and a sheet of sweat on her face. He slowly lowered his hand onto her shoulder and squeezed, Her mind, an odd foreign place, beckoned him in. What he saw there was imprinted behind his eye lids. 
An odd scratched memory that still held the force and agony as the day it was conceived. 
The poor child…compelled to hit her was brought on. Her mind though was too wide open…as much as he loathed her—something that has been developing for a while—he sympathized because it was his fault. 
“You shouldn’t expose yourself like that, child.”
 
 
22 February 2008 @ 04:55 pm
 I rewrote the first thing I posted and came up with something loads better. What do you think?

She sat at her desk hovering over a sketch pad with her charcoal that flew over the paper. She had pressed a smudged hand to her forehead in frustration as she gazed down at the landscape that was forming below her. It was just as she imagined it the rolling hills falling into endless waves but it wasn’t the same. How she couldn’t explain but it simply wasn’t and it was disturbing her. In vain she drew a few lines but it did nothing. She threw down her charcoal in frustration and stood up and walked away from her desk with heavy steps. Oliander fell onto her bed her skirts ruffling around her with a snap. 
“Miss Chandler it is time to awaken.”Gertrude found the young Miss Chandler of Nimbus in state of artist distress. 
“Miss Chandler?” Gertrude repeated tentatively wondering what was going on with the girl. Oliander opened an eye and said. 
“In a moment.” In the Chandler home everything tended to be public that hour of privacy, without maids bustling in nor her gossip of a mother. Gertrude walked over to the bed and sternly helped Oliander up by pulling her shoulders. Oliander was boney and meek of muscles so she could be easily maneuvered. 
“How is your drawing coming, Miss?” Gertrude asked with a tone of conversation as she strapped Oliander in day clothes. 
“Horrible,” She sighed gazing down at her blackened fingers. 
“You are talented girl, Miss. I can imagine that you will find a way to finish it nicely.” Gertrude added nodding toward the half finished sketch on the desk among other art supplies. Oliander was fully awakened from her misery when she was stitched into her corset and she lost her breath. 
“A possibility of loosening it?” She asked Gertrude clutching her chest that had shrunk noticeably. 
“Sorry Miss,” 
Once fully clothed Oliander sat on her vanity seat poised straight from the tightness of the clothing. Gertrude left to collect her breakfast from the kitchen Oliander was left alone again and she turned to look at her reflection. A prize to be won for many but to her all she saw was her mother’s face. How it haunted and disgusted her. Lady Chandler was a person that Oliander had attempted to avoid all her life to become her own person. Even Gertrude had attended to Oliander more than her own mother and if her mother would command her to do something Oliander doubted that she would obey. Filled with contempt Oliander looked away but let her fingers walk atop the vanity and they discovered her jade hair comb. Collecting her hair in her hand Oliander swept her flaxen hair in a loose bun. When Gertrude returned she swept aside the cosmetics on the vanity and placed the tray down. While Oliander picked at her breakfast with her silver spoon Gertrude filled a bowl with rosewater and began washing each of Oliander’s hands. 
“Miss,” Gertrude began suddenly. 
“Mhm?” Oliander responded carelessly enjoying the ample food that the cook made. 
“Miss, while I was downstairs I noticed that a Mr. Drisc had left his card. Would you receive him?” 
It was as if she was shocked and Oliander immediately stood, spilling the dirtied rosewater on Gertrude. 
“Oh Gertrude! Please accept my apologies.” Oliander began embarrassed to see Gertrude’s crisp white starched linen apron wet. 
“Never you mind, Miss.” Gertrude said. As Gertrude cleaned herself and Oliander scampered around the room in a frenzied excitement on the guest she asked conversationally. 
“I never seen you reacting so over a man before, Miss.” Oliander paused by her wardrobe letting the pink ripe over her pale cheeks. 
“I suppose not,” 
“Does that mean, Miss.” Gertrude began careful not to offend her. 
“That you have been seeing him a few times prior to his entrance at the manor.” Oliander swayed on her stockinged feet. 
“Perhaps so. I like Mr. Drisc. Perhaps you would like to meet him as well?” She asked. 
“It is not proper to leave you alone with him. I suppose I will meet your new darling. Just don’t forget about your friends over a man.” Gertrude warned before ordering Oliander to sit. Oliander sat anxiously as Gertrude buttoned her boots with her ornate boot hook. Properly dressed Oliander waited for Gertrude who collected an apropiate jacket, gloves, and hat. They walked down the hall together through the busy Chandler manor that never slept. 
“Are you planning to go anywhere, Miss?” Gertrude asked. 
“Perhaps to a café for lunch.” 
“Then I’ll send for our carriage. Please be back soon though, your family is having dinner together.” An rare event, Oliander nodded apprehensively at this bit of news. 
“Your brother will be here with his fiancé and so will your father, just as long as your mother…” Gertrude didn’t finish but it left a statement on the girl. Her mother who destroyed everything with a laugh. 
“Tomorrow also your mother wants to go into the North with you to run some errands for the gala.”  Ah yes, the gala. Oliander thought with a happy smile. 
Despite doing it with mother it would be a good day. The Winter Solstice gala was a yearly Folletamas event that all of rank went to. Grander each year than the one prior last year the theme was candy. The Chandler ballroom had been recreated to make everything sweet. Candy, cookies, and plenty of champagne leaving all those warm stomached. Oliander and Gertrude arrived in the parlor to see Mr. James Drisc standing by the fireplace. Oliander couldn’t see his face, only his flickering silhouette that made her breath fall. Gertrude politely coughed and James turned around to see his beloved and a wide grin fell on his face. James walked toward them but Oliander felt her lips purse when he first shook hands with Gertrude. 
“Lovelier today,” He first said to Oliander who felt her lips pull back into its usual smile. They sat together on the couch hardly touching beside Oliander resting her head on James’ shoulder. Gertrude had suddenly become hostile sitting in the corner her hardened gaze piercing. Oliander longed for the solitude of James’ home with his many brothers and sisters accustomed to their love and where they could do whatever they desired to an extent. The talked of nothing that mattered until James noticed the Proclaim sitting on the coffee table. 
“This again?” He asked looking at today’s issue of the Proclaim. At the Royal Library in Parliament James looked at it but at the sight of its title he threw it aside. But as he unfolded it below the main article about him and his families fame and pieces of gossip from the theatre that they attended last night noticed a smaller article entitled Chandler Discovery. 
“Father was received at Parliament when he returned from his voyage.” Oliander said her eyes widened with sincerity. 
“We are to meet with the king soon for it has been rumored that he would be knighted for his discovery.” Oliander added. As James read the small article Oliander said. 
“Did you know that there is an entire other world across the Forlorn Sea?” 
“That is impossible,” 
“Oh but it is true. Father went there himself. It is a seven month journey and he brought so many goods back. Our storerooms are overfilling with them.” Oliander said with a smile. 
“That is amazing! Another world…that was always neighboring us but we never knew.” That news was so grand however it could be shadowed by the idle gossip of celebrities attending a performance. James couldn’t help but pity Oliander and Lord Chandler to not be getting the true attention and fame for something far grander. He sighed then heartingly said formally.  
“Miss Chandler I was considering that we could go to the new bakery that opened in the North that I think that you would enjoy.” 
“Of course.” Oliander said with a little too much enthusiasm. 
“Gertrude please, can you call our carriage from the stable?” Oliander said. Almost reluctantly Gertrude left but a servant came in to dust. Oliander groaned but felt a thrill when she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. 
“In your villa afterwards,” And they stood and left toward the lobby. Gertrude had already returned from calling and went into the coatroom to collect their outerwear and another present for James that she slipped into the coat pocket. Gertrude stood at the doorway watching James and Oliander walk toward the carriage. But knew better than to idle over a girl she had fostered that was not her own.

This is what the city looks like. It's called NimbusCollapse )
 
 
Current Location: Kitchen Table
Current Mood: ecstaticecstatic
Current Music: I want candy~Bow Wow Wow
 
 
 
20 February 2008 @ 05:39 pm
 This is bad but an experiemenitng with a different point of view,

“Miss Chandler there is a Mr. Drisc calling for you. Will you receive him in the parlor?” Oliander jumped up at the name of James and nodded. “I’ll be down in a moment.” She told her maid. When Gertrude sauntered out Oliander sprung to her mirror and gazed at her glowing reflection. Pleased by what she saw Oliander went over to her wardrobe and picked a shawl and wrapped it loosely over her shoulders. She changed out of her informal home clothes for something more proper and appropriate for an outing. Before hurrying out she saw a package that sat on a coffee table that was due to be given soon. So Oliander snatched it and inconspicuously slipped it in among the folds of her skirt. Oliander walked out of her bedroom door and went down the hall passing a few maids and the butler. The Chandler manor was among the greatest homes in Nimbus (aside King Theron’s) and nearly as old. Her parents were the current holders of the manor which included the ball hosting. The Winter Solstice Gala was expected to be the grandest ball—and it was. Oliander walked down the main staircase a smile tugging at her lips. The lobby was a scene of a ordinary day in the Chandler manor despite her brother Henry sitting on the bottom step. “Good morning brother,” Oliander said fleetingly kissing him on his forehead. “Morning Oliander.” He replied heavily. “What is troubling you?” She asked. “A great many things but I am mostly concerned about this boy you’ve been seeing.” Oliander rolled her eyes and quickly said. “And father?” “Will be home tonight…just as long as mother—” He stopped himself and dismissively waved his hand. Oliander left his brother to mourn by himself. Oliander left the lobby barley preoccupied with what was troubling her brother. In the parlor Oliander saw his tall silhouette flickering by the fireplace. She felt compelled to run to him but in her home she was constantly watched and any sign of informalness would be dealt with. She precariously peered in