| A work-in-progress. | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 6 2008, 08:49 PM (21 Views) | |
| Nephalae Leuce | Nov 6 2008, 08:49 PM Post #1 |
Yes I know, she swears, so do you, get used to it.
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That's not the title. I'm just writing a story that doesn't have a title. So far, it's just bits and pieces. Bit one: From the Diary of Lana Alseida. “I wonder. If some day, I just disappeared, what would happen? Would anyone miss me? I’ve always wanted to just leave here, to go on an adventure like I dream of. But that’ll never happen. Even if I wish for it every second of my life, nothing extraordinary will ever happen to me. I’ll just be a stupid little human ever stinking second of my boring life. If only I could find a reason to keep believing… but there’s nothing. Everything about my life is just so ordinary. And I’ve never had any reason to expect that life would ever be anything but ordinary. I want to believe. I have to believe. If I give up, everything will have been for nothing. Every dream, every wish, every story I’ve ever written, everything will have been in vain. Because I can’t help but think that all of this has just been training me for what’s to come. I need this, and if it doesn’t ever come, then I might just waste away into nothingness. So I’ll keep on believing, no matter what.”. Lana always wanted to be special. But her whole life, she’d been nothing but average. Not too pretty, not too tall, not too smart, not too nice, not too anything. It made her angry. She tried being special, but it never worked. None of the stereotypes she’d tried fit her. And so she’d given up. Now she’d become the girl who sits in the back of the classroom and never raises her hand. At lunch, she sits at the end of a half empty table and never looks away from her food. Nobody talks to her. She doesn’t talk to anyone. Short in short, Lana’s pretty much a ghost. No, not even that. If she were a ghost, at least people would pay attention to her. Invisible is more like it. Even the teacher’s don’t pay much attention to her. Once in a while, one of them will call on her, trying to make an effort to get her involved, but they give up quickly. Nothing moves Lana. She’s always the same. Never happy, never sad, and nobody has ever seen her cry or lose her temper. When she’s alone in the woods, far from any people, Lana changes. As if something was pushing her down, and then suddenly changed to lift her up. Her grey eyes sparkle, and she sings. Line after line of nonsense flow from her lips and into the sky. It doesn’t mean anything, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is the emotion she puts into her singing, since it’s the one way she’s able to give back to the forest that is her only friend. Lana doesn’t see anything magical or strange about it. The forest is so beautiful and calm, who wouldn’t want to spend all their time there? When she’s under the cool green canopy of the trees, cradled in their rough branches, she’s not the loner nobody talks to, or the creepy girl that people avoid. She’s just… Lana. Her parents worry about her. They try to match her up with the children of their friends. Lana rejects them all. Nobody understands her. Nobody ever will.” Graceful vines and wise oaks surrounded me, swaying with the breeze. Shapes flowed in and round them, singing in high, otherworldy voices. I wanted to join them, but when I went to move, my feet seemed to be stuck. Looking down, I saw plants curling around my ankles roughly. On one foot, the plants blackened and died when they touched my skin, but on the other, they grew and grew, making their way up my body and to my face. Snaky green tendrils that pulsed with putrid blue fluids. Not a plant. No plant looked like that, no plant had veins that pulsed like a human’s. Two leaves curled around my head. In what could only be described as a taunting fashion, they stroked my face. The figures behind the trees continued singing, their voices joined by the whisper of the wind and the quiet hushing of the trees. And through it wove an incessant, annoying beeping sound. I shook my head to dispel it, but instead it got louder, and louder, and louder, until I wrenched myself out of my dream, slamming my fist down on my alarm clock. “Stupid clock, why do you have to wake me up so friggin early?” I was annoyed. Even if my dream was more of a nightmare, it was better than the horror I’d have to face today. Friday. The best and worst day of the week. Worst, because the anticipation of getting out for a couple days nearly killed me each time. Best, because after that, I wouldn’t have to deal with the purgatory they called education for another two days. I’d be able to spend the whole weekend in the forest, with just my clothes for company. If it was really hot out, I wouldn’t even have that. Dasshutsu. A place far from any civilization, a place where people never went. It was a place of beauty and peace. It was my home. Not this dingy place. “Since I’m up anyway…” My eyes were still clouded with sleep, and I bumped into a few things as I made my way to the closet. There was nothing on the floor. I kept my room perfectly neat, not that there was much in it. Just a bed alone one of the four walls, with a bookshelf and a closet. The floor was rich green carpet, but it was nowhere near as soft as half the varieties of moss I knew about. Just a bare mimicry. I dressed eventually. Jeans and a baggy band t-shirt. Paramore today. To my mother’s dismay, I shopped primarily at punk stores, while she was always trying to get me to wear skirts. To hell with her. I didn’t what she thought. I liked the way I dressed. Not that anyone at school would care. They never cared. It was like I’d written in my diary. I was the girl that nobody noticed, the quiet girl with the most to say. “Gloom, doom, death and despair, spiders crawling through my hair. Scream squeal scamper and fright, we’re all going to die tonight.” I ended the little tune with an evil cackle, grabbing a fruit at random from the bowl on the counter. Wonderful. I hated bananas. But I was hungry, and I didn’t have time to go back. So as I grabbed my backpack and headed out, I peeled it open. The outside was mangled and nasty, but the inside was everything you’d want from a banana. Clean, white-ish yellow, and actually not bad. Compared to most bananas. Silly banana thoughts aside, I needed to get to school. In record time, I finished the banana and tossed it into the trash can on the curb, then started running. My feet barely touched the ground. If I was ever going to go out for a sport, it’d be cross country or track. That was my forte. I ran a lot. In a way, I always was running. Running away from who I was, away from everybody and everything. But what was I running towards? Some goal? A dream? I only had one, and no amount of running would help me achieve it. Boy, I was in a metaphorical mood today, wasn’t I. Everything I passed became some sort of symbol. The sun was me, and the clouds were my troubles, keeping me from shining through. A wilting rose became the symbol of my belief in magic, once beautiful and strong but now fading. ----- Bit two: “She wept, and she clung to him, she clung to him so hard that she felt she might be locked to him forever, feeling the pressure of his breathing against her chest, the pressure of his arms against her back, pulling her closer. She clung to his chest and wept, staining the fabric there with her tears, so that the whole front was darkened by it. Her heart was aching as it had never ached before, the shattered pieces trembling in their joy and sorrow. Joy and sorrow, side by side, battling on a battleground of love and fear, fighting for her life, fighting for her heart, for her soul. It was a battle of consequences, one that spilled no blood, killed no warriors. As she pressed herself to him, and he pressed her to him in turn, the shattered pieces of her heart pressed together and hummed, as the love left in it led a final charge against the sorrow, destroying it nearly in full, though there were survivors who escaped to a distant corner of her heart. The humming lengthened and strengthened, and as he pressed his lips to her hair, as she lifted her face to meet her lips with his, his love and her love mingled and trickled into both of them, a silver thread winding its way to their hearts, binding the pieces together, binding them together for eternity. Their love was erethral, and then it was destroyed, and now has been made whole once again. For the powers of love cannot be overcome, not by any amount of hate and distaste and distrust. They are eternal. They are forever. And they are one with the world around them, one with everything good and bad and in between. There is no good and evil for love, no in between. Nothing is truly evil in the eyes of love. Everything has the capability to be loved and to love, and if one can love, one cannot be truly evil. Only when one has lost their capability to love has one been lost to the darkness within them. But even then, love can return, and they can return from the pit in which they have fallen, carried back to a better place by the silver strands of love, binding them to the world around them, holding them tight and strong. It is a beautiful thing, love, something that no amount of words or thought or pictures or song can recreate. It is something of the soul and of the flesh. It is something that no one can truly understand unless they open themselves up to it, open themselves up to the light that will give them life, give them a reason for living. Love and life are intertwined, go hand-in-hand, and if separated, perish. All beings have the capability to be loved and to love, and all cannot simply choose to whom they give and are given these feelings. Love is something that no one can explain. It is something that we will need all our lives, and beyond. We must cherish it, for if we lose it, we lose ourselves. It is essential for our life, essential to our very souls, just as the blood that runs through our veins would kill us if it were absent. So learn to live and love. Hold fast to these things, and never let go. It is my will, and so I decree it. This is my word, and this is my law. Love all things, and all things will love you in return. So be it.” ~The Law of the Goddess, as passed down through the Alaytan family. --- She woke and slept, woke and slept, never truly waking from this never-ending slumber. School and friends meant nothing to her- she knew everything that she cared to learn, and she had no friends. There was no emotion, as there was no reason for it. The little happiness she had came from long hours spent alone in the forest, with nothing byt the life around her for company. To some, it would seem a pointless, purposeless life. Not to her. Her life had a point, a purpose, a use. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know what it was yet. It only mattered that she knew, which gave purpose to her life all by itself. Curiosity, a thirst for adventure, and a deep desperate longing that Lana could never seem to explain… it made an interesting picture. A picture that Lana would not leave alone until she knew everything about it. --- No idea where the last two are going to go. *shrug* |
 Shine bright morning light Now in the air the spring is coming Sweet blowing wind Singing down the hills and valleys Keep your eyes on me Now we're on the edge of hell Dear my love, sweet morning light Wait for me, you've gone much farther, too far. ~Fake Wings, .Hack//Sign soundtrack  Cataphrak says: I pledge allegiance to the queen, the almighty despot of Invasonia... ~*Link leads to video. Badge by me, pinapple by Zeth*~ | |
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