This is Not What You Think it Is...

Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a small hut in the shadow of an empty castle. This was no average girl, although her red hair and freckles would lead you to believe it, she had a secret that she kept very close to her heart. Now, because we’re friends I’ll tell you her secret… she is a princess, but not the princess of this castle. She had come from a land quite far away that she had no desire to rule over. It didn’t matter though because she never would have ruled. She was the younger sister of an older brother and the daughter of a wise king. Her brother would have ruled, and in his wisdom the king would have married her off to a stuffy old duke to form an alliance of peace for the future of the kingdom. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want any of it, so one day, in the still of the night she packed her most precious belongings and snuck out of the kingdom. When the royal household awoke the next morning there was much weeping and searching with not a clue as to where their precious princess had gotten too, and the kingdom mourned their loss… but this is not a story about them.

In the darkness she slipped on to the back of a wagon that was plodding slowly away from the castle and watched as her home disappeared into the distance. Once it was out of sight she rejoiced because for now, it looked like she was free. With a smile on her lips she rode along on the wagon until the merchant noticed her and threatened a flogging for strays that hung where they didn’t belong. She had never been threatened before, she was a princess after all, but instead of being indignant she hopped off the wagon and jogged into the near by woods to avoid the large man with the very threatening whip. Thus started her real adventure. Now, you see, because she was a princess she was grossly unprepared for life outside the castle walls and there were many days when she had nothing to eat and bruises and scrapes that would have never happened in that protected environment.

Her silken slippers didn’t protect from the rocks under foot, and her hair of satin tangled and knotted in the foliage. Though troubles abounded she persevered and one day, after what seemed like ages of walking she saw a shadow appear ahead of her on the debris strewn path she had been traveling. The sun dappled path was not dark, but the figure of a large steed appeared in shadow and mist to her weary eyes, and always just out of reach. It seemed that no matter how she ran to catch up she could never get any closer. She started to wonder if perhaps it was a demon sent to punish her for running away, and other times, when the sun would glint off the shadow like a blazing star, she thought that it may be her salvation from this silly and dangerous path she had chosen. It didn’t really matter, what did she have to loose anyway. It had been days since she’d seen another human being, she could be hopelessly lost and no one would even find her bones if she were to die here. Darkness started to fall, and the mysterious figure became harder and harder to see, eventually, in exhaustion and frustration the princess flopped to the ground and cried herself to sleep.

The next morning when she awoke she found herself on the edge of a great wood, and before her stood the most magnificent castle she had ever seen. It’s towers and turrets gleamed white marble in the sun, and the red tiled roofs looked sturdy and welcoming. Finally, she had found somewhere else. Somewhere she had never been. She had traveled far and wide visiting castles of royalty, but never in her life had she seen this one. With a giggle she rose to her feet and, very un-princess like, ran towards the huge iron gates that stood closed within the tall stone wall.

“Hello!” she called out as she ran, but no one emerged from the guard house. “Hello!” she shouted louder as she reached out to wrap her dirty hands around the thick bars of the gate. But again no one answered. Strange, she thought, with a castle like this that no one is around to let me in.

Peering through the bars, the castle grounds were beautifully landscaped, the lawns trimmed, the gardens in bloom, and even a large red and white striped tent stood in the ready for a picnic, but there was no one to be seen. After standing for a while, admiring the grounds she noticed something else… there were no birds singing within the walls. There were no bees or butterflies admiring the gorgeous blooms. No palace cat or dog chasing the non-existent gophers. There was no life with in these walls, and she found herself feeling very alone, and very scared.

Just then, she heard a noise that pulled her gazed to the far corner of the castle wall where the shadowed stallion stood in the full sunlight, yet still shrouded in mist. It seemed, even though she couldn’t see it, that they locked eyes for a moment before it disappeared around the corner, and the princess ran to catch up.

“You, there, stop right this instant!” she demanded in her most princess like voice even though she coughed and wheezed as she ran, because princesses, after all, are never to run, or shout. “Come back here!”

Rounding the corner she stopped in her tracks. Before her stood the most majestic stallion she had ever seen. His flanks glowed a shimmering black. Its mane flowed in waves down his neck, and his thick tail nearly touched the ground. And to her surprise, a single silver horn gleamed from the center of his forehead, so intricately carved with spirals that it looked like a master’s carving, but infinitely better.

“You are a unicorn!” she gasped, placing her fingers to her lips in surprise. “oh, great beast, forgive me for chasing you.” Falling into her most courtly curtsy her tattered skirts spread out around her. “I’m you humble servant.”

“Get up girl. I am not your master.” The voice was not loud, but carried an authority about it that had the princess jumping to her feet to obey. “Why would a silly princess like you be wandering so far into the  woods?”

“Who says I am a princess?” She asked a bit indignantly. Because, after all, she was running away so she wouldn’t have to be the princess any longer.

“No one has to tell me you’re a princess, foolish child. I can see the glow about you as though there were a crown lay upon your brow.”

“I do not want to be a princess anymore.” She said to the unicorn, crossing her arms over her breast.

“So you say. Perhaps you will change your mind.”

“I wont.” She replied.

“Then why have you come to this castle?”

“You led me here, sir. Another castle was not my destination.” She paused, looking up at the high wall beside her, thinking of the beautiful castle hidden within, and a question occurred to her. “Why is there no one living in this castle?”

The unicorn let out an amused whinny tossing back it’s head. His horn catching the light and sending shattered pieces of sunlight across the ground.

“There once was an entire kingdom here. Thriving farms as far as the eye can see. It was ruled by a prince who was vain and selfish and cared not a lick for the lives of others. One day a lovely young lass came to the castle petitioning for the princes' hand in marriage. A beautiful girl though she wore not a crown or fine silks. Upon seeing her the prince fell in love, but when she had not a title he had her removed from the palace and his sight so he would no longer be tempted by her beauty. For he was a prince and as such deserved someone more beautiful who was royalty. Her petition for marriage was simply to save her family from being wrongfully killed, and asked no more of the prince than his hand in marriage, but he could not accept her as she was. She stayed at the gates of the castle for days, begging to return to the palace, but the prince would have none of it. In the night the girl died, curled up on the ground, and in the morning a brilliant white unicorn lay dead at the palace gates.”

“Let me guess,” said the princess, “All in the palace were cursed and you are that prince. Who was supposed to learn a lesson.”

Again the unicorn laughed. “Goodness no.” He said. “You are right about the curse though. The unicorn that died for this prince was my sister. She had fallen in love with the human man, not knowing of his less than attractive traits. She gave up her life as a unicorn through the magic of the nymph Khatri. She only needed the prince to accept her as she was and she could live with him forever… but if he didn’t then, well, then Khatri would destroy the unicorns.”

“Oh no.” the princess whispered and took a step closer to the unicorn. “But he didn’t marry her so how are you still here?”

“The nymph cannot see me. I was already cursed with a coat of black. While the others frolicked in their shimmering white. I would never be like them, my magicks are different. I am not a unicorn the way the others were. When Khatri destroyed them she looked only for the white rays of sunlight, and didn’t check the shadows. When all the unicorns had gone, I returned here and cursed this kingdom. This is my doing.”

“You poor thing.” The princess, who had a gentle heart, ached for the last unicorn, and closed the gap between them. Placing her small white hand on his muzzle she stroked his jaw to comfort the creature, though he didn’t seem to need it.

“I am not poor. Only lonely.”

“What can I do to help you to not be so lonely?”

“I wish you to take this castle as your own. And have me for a husband.”

“Oh, No. No, no, no.” The princess replied. “I shall not take the castle. I do not want to be a princess. I just want to be me. No servants, no silly dresses. Just me. As I am now.”

“And you would not have me either?”

“Dear Unicorn, I would have you. But I will not take greatness.”

The unicorn snorted and pulled his head from her grasp. “Then you cannot have me.” He said, and cantered towards the encroaching forest.

“Are you sure you are not the vain prince?” She called after him, but he just disappeared into the trees.

Finding herself alone again the princess let a single tear roll down her cheek. “What am I to do now?”

From the trees shattered light spread across the ground again, blinding her for a moment. When the light had gone the princess found herself standing at the door of a tiny cottage that seemed to have grown from the ground. It sat nestled against the wall of the castle. Her gift from the black unicorn that had saved her from wandering aimlessly in the forest. Her heart swelled with gratitude as she entered her new home. Everything inside was just as she had wished it could be, and she lived quite happily ever after.

Now, you’d think that was the end of the story, but it’s not. The princess did live quite happily there in her little hut in the shadow of the empty castle, but eventually she did grow lonely. One day she went outside into the bright sunshine and stood, staring into the dark of the forest, remembering how the unicorn had told her that the nymph had forgotten to look into the shadows.

“Unicorn!” She called out, because since she no longer considered herself a princess it was perfectly acceptable to shout. But there was no response to her call. Day after day she did the same thing, and day after day there was no response.

She didn’t want to give up hope of seeing the unicorn again, but as time passed she found herself missing him. She had no idea how to lure him back. All the tales she had heard about unicorns said that they only appear to someone once, and if you didn’t take the offer when it was given you’d never see it again. She had seen him, and refused his offer, and now, she was afraid that she would never see it again.

She walked aimlessly and eventually found herself standing at the gates to the empty palace. It had been so long since she had rounded this corner she had nearly forgotten that there was a castle behind the wall. It was still beautiful behind the gates, and she found herself wanting to go inside and touch the silks and china… but only for a moment. She didn’t miss that stuff. Reaching through the bars she pulled the lock and the gates swung open quietly, letting her into the still wonderland beyond.

Quietly, like an uninvited guest she strolled through the gardens, and lounged in the silken pavilion. Closing her eyes she wondered what it would be like living in this magnificent palace, instead of her perfect little hut.

“Admit that you miss this, princess.”

Startled, the princess let out a squeal as she fell off her chair. And there, before her face were four silver hooves, attached to long shimmering black legs. Above her stood the unicorn. Her unicorn. She couldn’t hide her excitement at seeing him again and jumped to her feet throwing her arms around his neck.

“It is not the frivolities I miss.” She cried into his silken hide, “It is you. I will be anything for you if only you say you shall not leave me again. I have felt your loneliness, and I can bear it no longer. Take me with you. Either here into the castle, or into the dark of the woods. I care not. I care only that I am no longer without you.”

“And I only care for a princess.” The unicorn replied.

“Then that is what I am. I am a princess. The first daughter of a king. The next after my brother. I am who you say I am. I will not deny it to you.”

”Then it is as it should be.” The unicorn replied.

In an instant the court yard came to life. A bird sang in a tree. A bee buzzed through the flowers, a chorus of water cascaded into the fountain. Life returned to the air.

Looking around her, the princess clasped her hands beneath her chin. “It’s alive!” she cried out joyously.

“Princess,” the unicorn said, returning her attention to him. “It is now your choice. Would you stay here and rule a kingdom of us, or would you throw off your mortal bounds and join me in the woods.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought…I want…”

“Hush now, princess. Close your eyes and make your wish, I care not what it is.”

Closing her eyes the princess smiled brighter than the sun as the unicorn touched his horn to her heart. The two were swept up in a magical glimmering light fulfilling the wish of the princess…

The End

 

written by liz evans 6.28.2011

Choose Your Own Adventure

When last we left off you had chosen to follow the narrow ledge. Lets catch up with the story now and see where this takes us:

- Follow the Narrow Ledge -

Looking down into the ravine you have a sudden stab of fear and nausea that presses you back against the cliff wall. You feel like you can't breathe at the thought of descending the switchbacks, you silently point to the narrow ledge at your feet, though not very wide, it seems like a more plausible path for your escape.

"Not that way," you whisper to Creason. He is standing next to you staring down at the trees below. He doesn't move for a moment and you think that perhaps he hasn't heard you until he suddenly moves and starts off at a quick pace along the wall.

"Perhaps you are right, bearer. The forest is quite dense, and it will take us too long to find the Captain going that way. The river it is."

Letting out a partial sigh of relief, you cling to the cliff wall as much as possible as the two of you work your way around the curve of the rock. The moon crosses the sky above you as you walk marking the time as it slides towards the horizon. As the sun begins to rise, the path descends gently eventually flattening into a grassland studded with trees that looked as though they were refusing to grow, stunted and twisted into tangled knots of themselves, but there is no sign of a river that the path was named for.

Creason has been silent for the climb, and you realize that he probably isn't much of a talker, or maybe he doesn't like you, and you suddenly start to mistrust your companion.

"Is this the right direction?" You ask, feeling nervous in the silence. "Shouldn't there be a river here? You said this was the river trail."

The river is long dead." Creason answers you, not stopping or slowing his pace. "This used to be the river bed," pointing to the ground beneath your feet.

Looking down you notice that the stones of this path are smooth and the path is at the bottom of a shallow dip in the land.

"What happened to it?"

"He did." Creason replies, as though you know who he is talking about.

"Oh…" you pause for a moment, you want to ask, but you're afraid of sounding naïve, but the curiosity gets the better of you. "Who is 'HE'?"

Creason stumbles a step. "You don't know?"

You shake your head. "This has all happened rather suddenly, I'm not sure I'm even awake."

"You are awake my friend. Wide awake." Spreading his arms out wide he tipped his head to the sky as if trying to catch the sky.

"Then why doesn't anything make sense here."

"It will. It will. Soon enough."

Letting out a sigh you trudge on towards the distant tree line. It seems that Creason has forgotten your first question so you venture to pose it again. "So tell me, who is this... HE, that I have to fight? Why is it so important that I win?"

"You speak of Deathbringer. This man… This thing, is ruler of all the world, although not the rightful one. He is an evil older than time itself. He has spent millennia killing the people of this world and sucking their souls to gain power. He has obtained the power to control, time and space, though not to a large extent yet. Mostly he can move himself about through not only this world, but others as well. Eventually, with more souls, and the live force of the land itself he will be able to manipulate the entire universe. A century ago Deathbringer used his power to capture Argharna Rendall and locked him away from us. Without Argharna Rendall we are without protection. However, before he was sealed away he used his will to create this," He stops short and points to the medallion resting on your chest. "The Ring of Thanaur. Some say it contains the soul of Argharna Rendall. Other's say the bearer is the reincarnation of Argharna Rendall."

"What do you think?" You ask, this is more information than Citrine provided before sending you here.

"Me, well, I thought it was a little of both. But now, after meeting you, I have yet to reform my opinion. I can't see one like you destroying such evil. You seem like such a weak thing. With no training, I doubt you'll survive. But you are the chosen that is why now is the time that you must destroy him for good."

Your feet suddenly feel very heavy and you don't want to continue. You put a hand to your head feeling very overwhelmed.

"Come now, Bearer, you can't quit now. Not to sound like I am preaching dooms-day, but the only way out of this now is death." He starts walking again leaving you where you stand. "Captain Faelphrestad has a camp just beyond these woods."

You know he's right, but in the pit of your stomach the fear is gnawing at you and the dagger on your hip seems like a good way out. Pulling the dagger from it's holster you hold it in your hands before you.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Kill yourself

Continue on the path

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

- Accept Creason’s Help -

Creason stands over you watching you pack, but suddenly he turns and crouches next to you. “Come Bearer, the sisters are coming.”

His urgent tone hurries you along and soon you have your cloak back around your shoulders. It’s easier to wear it than to carry it you determined. The two of you hurry out of the cave and back on to the path you had been following before.

“Do you know the way out?” You ask.

“I have a general idea,” Creason replies, but he looks in several directions before pointing a finger. “This way, I believe.”

“You believe?”

“You’re the one with the guide Bearer. Perhaps you should ask him.” He said, pointing to the raven that was swooping circles in the air before you.

“Harry,” you call, sticking out your arm, and your raven flies to you, perching on your wrist. He stares at you, his head tilted to the side. Taking a deep breath you throw out a hope that this bird can under stand you. “Get us out of here.”

“Caaw!” he screeches at you before launching off your arm and taking flight. You watch as he flies away, banking to the left and disappearing around a corner. It only takes a moment for you to realize that you should probably be following him.

The air is so heavy with heat you find it hard to breathe; your foot falls becoming heavier as you go. The silence is oppressing, broken only by the periodic call of Harry if you fall too far behind.

“The mouth isn’t very far from Here.” Creason assures you, punctuated by a caw from your raven as though he were agreeing.

After walking for what seemed like hours through the heat the entrance to the caverns appears before you as a gaping black hole in the red rocks. You are so glad to see it you start to run to the exit, each step bringing you closer to real air.

Thump thump thump thump, your footfalls echo behind you as you finally break free of the oppressiveness of the heat that you close your eyes as you step into the open breathing deeply of the fresh cool air. You’re about to take another step when Creason grabs the back of your shirt and pulls you back.

“You may be the Bearer, but you are not wise.” He growls.

You open you eyes and glare at him before you notice that he is looking at the ground before you, or the lack there of. In front of you there is a small ledge about the width of your shoulders and then a sheer drop off that is lined with dense pines thousands of feet below.

“We can go down that way if you wish.” Creason says, pointing at a series of narrow switchbacks that cut straight down the side of the cliff, “Or, we can use the river trail.” Pointing in another direction you see that the narrow ledge you’re standing on wraps around the side of the cliff face and out of sight.

You watch as Harry files in circles high in the air, not giving you any further direction.


WHAT DO YOU DO?

Take the Switchbacks down
Follow the Narrow Ledge


I've given this some extra time. You have until Midnight 11/12/2010 to vote for the next step.

Choose Your Own Adventure

- Help the Demon -
Your chest feels tight as you debate in your head what you are going to do, but you finally step forward reaching out with your empty hand you grasp the chain around the woman’s waist, yanking it free of her body. She kicks at you, the look of fear that had been on her face previously turned to anger.

Suddenly you feel as though you’re burning from the inside out you drop your dagger and start tearing at your clothes, trying to cool down. Dropping to your knees you start to scream, but through your screams you hear the gravelly voice of the demon.

“This is the end of your wicked ways.”

You look up. He’s shaking her like a rag doll. With a twitch of the demon’s wrist the shining sword fell from her hand skidding across the sand to disappear into the river of lava. With the threat gone the demon put his other hand to good use by grasping the woman’s side and twisting her into a contorted knot. You heard bones snapping, her eyes bulged, and her mouth gapped, and the demon cast the woman to a molten death just as her sword had done moments before.

As her body disappeared below the orange surface the burning within you suddenly ceases and you can breathe again. You’re light headed in the aftermath of the pain so you remain seated on the ground and watch as the demon squats down, gathering the chain in his hand before wrapping around his forearm, the broken ends melding into his skin, bonding with his flesh. The blisters on his skin began to fade away as he sat back on his heal and took a deep breath. Slowly he rose to his feet and approached you.

“My thanks, human.” He said, offering you a hand up. Though the blisters have disappeared he was still yellow and wore nothing but a loin cloth, and the chain around his arm. “One less witch in the world means one less threat.”

You can’t speak. Your throat is dry and you’re still unsure of what just happened.

“It’s better that we leave this place before her sister’s arrive. I can take on one, but I do not think that even with two of us we’ll be able to face nine.”

You nod and take his hand. He easily pulls you to your feet and opens his mouth as if he were about to say something but it just hangs open as he stares at your chest.

“It is you!” It says after a moment. Placing a hand on each of your shoulders he inclines his head towards you. “You have come, bearer of Thanaur!”

You recognize the name Thanaur from Citrine. The pendant against your chest seems to thrum with the acknowledgement of it.

“You…you know me?” You’re breathless, surprised, and a little afraid.

“Know you?” It came out almost as a laugh. “Know you? I have been waiting my entire life to find you.” He stared down at you; a sort of smile parted his lips showing his sharp teeth, his eyes glowing red in the shadows of his face “But what unfortunate luck you have to pass through the caverns of misery to come upon me.”

“Who are you?” the fear was wearing off, being replaced by curiosity. Looking up you see him now, not for the gruesome creature that was killing someone, but as someone that could possibly help you… or kill you. Your raven, Harry, cawed from his place on the floor before hopping on to the creatures shoulder.

“I am called Creason.”

You give your name in return and briefly explain to him that you don’t know what is going on and that you are to find a Captain Faelphrestad.

“Faelphrestad…” Creason growls, clenching his hands into fists. His stance shouting his loathing of the name.

“I was told…” You start to say.

“I’m sure Citrine means well.” Creason cut in, his voice cold and angry. “I will… take you to him.”

Turning away from Creason, you need to think about what is before you, you begin to gather your items from where you had dropped them, giving yourself a moment.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Accept Creason’s Help
Continue On Your Own

Choose Your Own Adventure

- Find the Screamer –

You were about to sit down when you hear the cry again.

“This is ridiculous!” You say to yourself, but instead of sitting down you roll your eyes and throw your arms in the air. Looking back at the seat for just a moment, you free your dagger and start running towards the screams. You’re not sure what you’re going to do when you find them, but you had always been taught to help others in need, and the screams definitely sounded in need.

The air is so heavy with heat you find it hard to breathe; your foot falls becoming heavier as you go. You’re spurred on by the tortured sounds that bounce around through the caverns, leading you into dead ends and deep pits. After many wrong turns you find the source of the sounds. You slide to a stop in the loose sand, placing a hand against the sudden cramp in your side, gulping for breath. Before you a battle waged, and it looked like it was going to be to the death. Straightening up you watch the melee before you, dagger in hand, unsure of what to do.

A woman struggled with a creature that was human in form, but its skin was a putrid yellow color and had small horns protruded out of it blistered skull. It was larger than the female by far and seemed to be dominating the struggle.

She spotted you, your eyes meeting for a moment before she cried out, “Help me!” and a wail of pain and fear followed her words. The two combatants dance precariously close to the edge of the molten river, its banks barely containing the flow from filling the room.

The woman, her brown hair pulled back from her face in a long pony tail, was wearing a tattered dress, the skirts singed and torn, either from this battle or from another, held a shining sword in her hand. The demon, for that was the only word you could use to describe the other, had her wrist held in his clawed hand lifting it above her head, trying to free the hilt from her grip but being unsuccessful at it.

“Do not deceive, Lonkeet, you shall die for what you have done!” The demon’s voice was rough and made your skin crawl as he rasped his words. “Death is too good for one like you.”

“Oh! Pease …” her words were cut off as the demon wrapped his free hand around her neck, bearing his teeth in a frightening grin.

“Human!” He called out. “Remove the chain from this her waist.” It takes you a moment to realize that it is talking to you. When you fail to move he barks at you, “Remove it now!”

Jumping into action, you take two steps closer before you look at the woman’s face, turning purple in the grasp of the demon, a tear slid down her cheek as she watched you with frightened eyes. You stop moving.

“NOW!” He shouted again. He turned one eye to you, it glowed red in the shadows of his face, “If you do not you will die as well!”

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Help the Demon
Rescue the Girl

Vote Now.

Choose Your Own Adventure

- Trap Door –

Reaching out you take hold of the rusty iron ring on the floor you pull and the trap door slowly coms open. It’s heavier than you expected it to be, but you pull until it falls open under its own weight. You have to jump back so it doesn’t smash your toes. Looking into the pit you can only see the first four steps before they’re engulfed in darkness.

“Oh, great, you say more dark.” You look over your shoulder back to the doorway, thinking for a moment that it isn’t too late to turn around, but then you decide that you may as well. “Well, here I go…” you say quietly. And then louder, towards the door back into the rest of the store, you shout. “I’m going now!” There is no response.

Balling your hands into fists, so you can smack anyone waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you, you take the stairs down. It’s dark as you descend, even the light from the open door above you doesn’t penetrate past the fourth stair. Above you the floor creeks and the trap door slams down on top of you.

“HEY! What do you think you’re doing?” charging up the stairs back to the door you beat on it with your fists. “Open this back up! Open it I say!!” But there is no answer. You pound on it a few more times before you reach in your pocket for your cell phone. You flip it open and the screen glows brightly in the darkness for a moment and then it blinks out. “What the....” You’re angry now and somehow you are going to get out of this basement.

There’s only one way to go now. Down. Putting your hand against the wall, you feel your way down the rest of the stairs until your feet are on solid ground. The basement must be used for storage because it has the same smell as the store above you, musty paper and years of dust. Inching forward your eyes adjust to the dark and you can make out shapes around you and there is a dim light emanating somewhere to your left. Putting your hands out before you, you walk blindly towards the light, hoping it’s a way out.

As you progress, the smell of the air changes from the musty old sent to that of burnt paper and chard wood that only grows stronger as you go. Finally your hands reach the solid wall before you; it’s warm to the touch and through a crack in the wall light dances and flickers just beyond. Placing your fingers into the crack the wall shifts and you push it out of your way revealing the cavern beyond.

The red rocks around you dance as if made of flame; heat radiated from every surface and before taking three steps inside you are already sweating. To your ears the sound of fire bubbles and pops soft and then loud. You can’t believe your eyes, is this really in that crazy woman’s basement. Glancing behind you, all you see is a solid wall of red stone, the entrance you had come through completely vanished.

Shaking your head you move forward, taking in the cave around you. It is bright as day here, the unnatural light coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. The stalagmites and stalactites reaching for each other like hands grabbing for something just out of reach. There is only one path through the cavern and your feet follow it willingly, thinking that if one person has already traveled this way, perhaps they found a way out, and that’s where you wanted to go. Out.

After walking for a while he heat had forces you to remove the cloak you had been given. Slinging it through your baldric you drape the cloak over the dagger at your side so the heated metal couldn’t burn your flesh. The heat wears on you making you lethargic, the crackling of the fire was lulling you to sleep.

“AHHHHHH!!” You hear a scream, high pitched and terrified. The wailing only lasted a moment, but it stopped you dead in your tracks.

Was there someone else down here? You wonder to yourself.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you strain your ears to see if you can hear the screams again, but you are met with nothing but silence and the soothing sound of fire. Beneath your closed eyelids you can feel the energy draining from you, you’re so tired.

It couldn’t hurt to rest here for a moment. You think, and cast your eyes about to find a spot to sit, or at least lean for a little while. Not far from where you’re standing a rock juts from the wall, flat and welcoming, perfect for you to just sit down for a moment. Only a moment…

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Rest a while
Find the Screamer
Continue on your Way

Vote Now ---->

Choose Your Own Adventure

- Raven, Crystal Skull, Cloak –

The pickings were sparse and you looked at many items individually and passed over many others. You touch several, just to leave your mark in the dust. You pick up stones, and daggers. You ask for suggestions and receive no answers. The eclectic items before you seem endless in quantity now that you can see what you’re looking at.

You pick up an item wrapped in brown paper, the size of a baseball; the aged paper disintegrates at your touch. Brushing it away you reveal within a perfect miniature skull, made of the finest crystal you have ever seen. As you stare at it you think you can see a light shimmer within its depths, but you just think it’s the candle light reflecting through it.


You hold it up, showing the woman, who had finally identified herself as Citrine, as she trails behind you.

“A wise choice.” She nods, but that’s as much information you get out of her on anything you have picked up. Her approval neither helping nor hindering your exploration of the store.

Shrugging, you place the crystal skull in your pocket, it bulges and you can feel its weight settle against your leg as you move along to the clothing rack that you hadn’t noticed before. There were several items hanging here, shirts, pants, jackets, cloaks. There are hat’s hanging by strings and bags holding boots made of soft leather’s that folded easily into piles of indistinguishable brown that you had to open to check the contents. Finally you choose a gray cloak, the color of smoke that has a wide hood and room to spare.

“Ah!” Citrine says behind you, making you just, this is the only voluntary word that has come from her in a while. “The cloak of Gaabor. This,” she says, taking a handful of cloak and holding it up to you. “THIS is a wise choice.”

You’re still just playing along because this really is just a joke and one of your friends has put this strange woman up to this. Since she hasn’t spoken about any of the other items you have chosen you figure this is a clue as to what she wants from you and you unfurl the material and settle it onto your shoulders.

“One last item…” She says as she touches your arm. “What will you choose to help you on your way?”

“Where am I even going?” You ask. If you had some idea of what she’d be leading you into you could better limit your choices. Do you need boots? Do you need spears? Do you need magic items? She hasn't been of any help at all, and the next words that come from her lips don’t help you either.

“Only you can tell where you are going. That is not for me to know.” She smiles though and with her hand that she hasn’t removed from her arm she gently directs you to the back corner of the store where there are several taxidermied animals, cats, rats, rabbits, birds, bats… all in waiting positions, their glass eyes looking down at you expectantly. It’s gross, but fascinating; your eye catches on a glossy raven that is on a pedestal next to you, its black feathers almost blue in the candle light. Reaching out, you touch it gently, running your finger down its long black feathered wing. You think you feel it twitch beneath your touch, and then the bird stretches and spreads its wings, shaking of the years of dust. Letting out a loud “Caaaw” it hops from its perch to your arm that is still outstretched before you.

Citrine smiles, “It is done. Your path is set, the time has arrived.” She turns and leads you through the doorway behind the counter; the room is bare except for two doors on the far wall, and a trap door in the center of the floor. “Here is where your journey begins. I can guide you no further.” She leans into you, gently kissing you on the cheek. “May Argharna Rendall guide you safely to your victory.” Placing both hands over her heart she bows to you and backs out of the room, leaving you alone.

Taking a deep breath you step forward and choose your path.

WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE?

Door on the Right
Door on the Left
Trap Door

You know the voting drill by now...
... but at the same time leave a comment, I'm curious to know who's reading :)

Talk Like A Pirate Day!

Arrr! It do be international talk like a pirate day. Tho I had been promisin' an addition to Chooose yer Own Adventurrrre, I do be needin' me some more time to finish that one so I be veering off course fer this sabbath an' I'll be postin' this'n instead and belay the continuation of the other fer another day this week.

x_x

Yarr!
by Liz Evans

Once upon a time there was a pirate. This pirate’s name was Captain Blackhart. He was named such because it had been said that if you were to cut him open all you’d find would be tar and evil. His crew were a surly bunch, several missing legs or an eye, but most just missin’ teeth. Yet even this surly bunch were afraid of Cap’n Blackhart.

On this particular occasion, Cap’n Blackhart had just finished floggin’ Ferguson, for an improper knot, when the lookout spied a fine sloop cutting to the northeast off the port bow.

“Ah! There do me a favorable, wind today.” Cap’n shouted and he thumped across the deck. “We do be in for a treat.”

Pullin’ his spy glass from his belt, he leaned over the railing peering at his target. It was a small ship, but richly decked out. The sails were of a fine grade and the passengers wore silks. Dancing a merry caper he turned back to the crew. “Hoist the colors, boys! We do be sittin’ pretty afore sundown!”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n” a chorus of voices responded as they jumped to, pulling ropes, unfurling sails and turnin’ them into the wind. Their brigantine cut sharply to port and the chase was on.

“Fire a shot across their bow.” Cap’n ordered, and the bosons whistle let out it’s shrill call before the long nine fired. BOOM! The cannon retorted and the ball flew missing the sloops bow by mere feet.

With spyglass in hand Blackhart watched the passengers of the other vessel scramble, hoistin’ the sails making to escape. Their ship pulled starboard, but it wasn’t going to enough to outrun The Scurvy Mermaid. Black hart had the finest ship on the seven seas, no one could out run his guns.

“Pete!” He barked at his gunner, “Take down their mast.”

Loading a ball and chain into the cannon it fired again sending the deadly contraption twirling through the air. It hit one of the crewmen before wrappin’ around the mast, breakin’ them both in two.

“Thar be a fine aim, Pete.” Clappin’ the man on the shoulder. Killing always put the Cap’n in a complimentary mood. “Pull up on thar starboard and show ‘em some lead.”

As soon as they were in range, the three cannons on the port side fired in succession, their deadly discharge punching holes in the already handicapped vessel. The pirates all shared a good laugh as the women aboard the other vessel screamed and a volley of bullets were sent towards The Scurvy Mermaid from the men.

Each pirate had armed himself and stood ready at the railing for the call to launch their hooks and pull this unfortunate vessel within their grasp.

“Get on wit it, Ye lily livered vermin!” He’d shout with a wave of his sword and the hooks would sail. It appeared as a choreographed dance as the pirates pulled and knotted the other ship to them, holding it fast.

Another volley of bullets sailed through from the sloop, some finding purchase in unlucky blaggards who fell to the deck. There’d be time to throw them over later, after the spoils were in.

With a yell, Blackhart swooshed his sword forward, sending his filthy crew over the side and swarming onto the deck. In the mayhem Captain Blackhart took the time to make note of the vessel he’d be pillaging today. Open Sea, was her name, but before this was over it’d belong to Davy Jones. The ringing of metal against metal were music to his ears, and after an appropriate amount of time he too swung himself over to join the mêlée.

With a boisterous laugh he ran the first man who came at him through. A slash to the left, feinted to the right and parried a blow before cutting off the man’s arm.

“Save the Wenches for ME!” He hollered as he heard the women screaming. Dead Tom had a buxom lass by the hair, dragging her towards their ship, while Hobble had another slung over his shoulder and another looped in one arm pressed against his side. Only one way fighting, the other seems to have fainted from the excitement. There’d be a hot time on The Scurvy Mermaid tonight! Cap’n Blackhart thought to himself, his appetite for women was always ready after a stirring battle.

After a time, the battle cooled, and those of the crew who were not dead were thrown over board for the sharks. Only four of his own crew appeared to have lost this one.

After stripping the ship of all it’s finery and gold, Cap’n pulled open the trap door to the cargo hold He was met with a nice surprise. This ship was a Rum runner, and they’re just hit pay dirt.

Taking a bottle for each pocket, and one for each hand, Captain Blackhart returned to his own vessel for wenching and more killing, and a night of earthly pleasures.

“Arr!” He said to himself, “It do me a fine days work, if I do say so meself.”

Choose Your Own Adventure

Part 4 - Accept the Quest -

“I’ll do it.” You hear yourself say and you’re surprised those are the words that came out. “I’ll go.” Hesitantly you reach out and take the cloth wrapped bundle from the woman and let the wrappings fall open in your hands.

Inside the layers of old cloth laid a battered silver pendant on a thick chain. The pendant itself was a ring, inscribed with symbols you have never seen before and it was attached to the chain by two hands of death, the skeletal fingers encircling the ring, one grasping each side, holding it in place.

“What is it?” You ask.

“The Ring of Thanaur.” She says with a hint of impatience, as if you should already know this. “Did they teach you nothing in your training!”
“What training?!” You ask in confusion.

She stares at you with her unsettling young eyes for a moment before she shakes her head and continues. “There is no time for this.” Turning back to the counter she takes the baldric, lifing it over your head and settling it on your shoulders. She then slides the long dagger into the sword loop and stuffs a flintlock pistol into your waist band. You will defeat Deathbringer and set us free.” Reaching out she touches your hand. “With the combined strength of the chosen and this ring you shall know the deceiver when it is time.”

“Huh?” You feel totally lost, but you realize that you are not going to get any useful information out of this woman so you decide to play along. Rolling your eyes you finally just respond, “Okay, whatever you say.”
Nodding curtly to you she tells you to put on the necklace. You obey and slip the long chain over your head, the pendant comes to rest in the center of your chest and you feel a shock run through your body as it settles into place.

“Three additional items you may choose to help you on your way.”

You turn back to the shop behind you, the candles seem to glow brighter and you can now see the merchandise before you, the trails in the dust from your trip through are a harsh scar on the dusty relics set out before you. The coatings of dust and cobwebs seem as though they have never been disturbed by mice or men.

WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE?

* Red Stone, Cloak, Burlap Sack
* Raven, Crystal Skull, Cloak
* Signet Ring, Floppy Hat, Sealed Scroll Case

Vote in the comments or to the right --->

Choose Your Own Adventure

Part 3 - Move Forward –

You approach the counter, looking at your finger it seems that the bleeding has stopped but the cut has left a white and deep looking gash across the tip of your right forefinger.

“Excuse me,” you call out. “Hellooo?”

The curtained doorway rustles a little as the woman reemerges. In her hands she holds a black leather baldric and a wrapped item. She places her burden down in front of her and starts talking with a voice that expected you to be listening.

“A Thousand years we have been watching for the sign. For a thousand years we have waited for the one to come to lead us… and I get you walking in my shop.” The way she said you sounded rather derogatory, but she continued speaking without looking up. “Why Argharna Rendall would choose you I cannot tell.”

“Hey,” You break in, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you take a step back and start from the beginning?”

"No time. No time to go back to the beginning. You are the chosen one of Argharna, lifting the dagger sitting on the counter she holds it out to you. He has chosen you to fulfill the call of the Palanúr. You are to be the legendary hero that returns us to our rightful homeland.”

“I think you have the wrong person.” You say, this woman really must be crazy. This is the most absurd thing you have heard. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Of course you don’t” she replies, “But you have the mark.” Reaching out she grabs your hand and pulls it into the light of the candle on the counter. You see that the cut on your finger has turned to a florescent green that illuminated in the light; it swirled and twisted around your right index finger creating intricate patterns that curled across your skin and spread onto your hand as you watched.

“Gaaaah!!” You cry out as you pull your hand away from her and take a step back. Holding your right hand in front of your face you watch the luminous spirals cover your hand and creep up your wrist. “What have you done to me?!” You screech out in fear, “What is this?”

“It is the mark of Palanúr, you are the one. We must act quickly for the end has already begun.” She stepped around the counter; taking the wrapped bundle into her arms she thrust it towards you waiting for you to take it from her. “You will need this for your journey.”

“Journey?” You question off handedly, you can’t tear your eyes away from your arm even though the patterns have crawled under your sleeve and you can no longer watch it spread.

“Yes, you must go. You will meet Captain Faelphrestad and he will escort you to your destination.

“I can’t….” You stammer and take another step back from her, bumping into a table causing its contents to rattle. “This is crazy.”

“Crazy it may be,” she says stepping closer to you with her arm extended still waiting for you to take the item. “But you will fulfill this quest.”

“I…” You start, but you pause, unsure of your answer.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

Accept the Quest
Decline the Quest

Vote in the comments or to the right --->

Merry Sisters of Fate Contest Entry

The Merry Sisters of Fate are hosting yet another fabulous contest on their blog: http://community.livejournal.com/merry_fates/95549.html

Eligible prizes include a signed copy of LINGER by Maggie Stiefvater, and a signed ARC of THE REPLACEMENT by Brenna Yovanoff and some other stuff that I thought was cool enough to make me enter. (The Merry Sisters of Fate are authors: Maggie Stiefvater, Brenna Yovanoff, and Tessa Gratton)

To enter, you must use the below image as a writing prompt. It can be a short story, flash fiction, a poem, whatever! If you’re also interested you can go to their blog for more detailed instructions on how to enter.

The prompt: "The Princess and the Pea" by Edmund Dulac

 

Here we go...

 (Every time I present something using those words it reminds me of Calhoun Tubbs from In Living Color when he would say "I wrote a song about it. Wanna' hear it? Here it goes." ... now back to my Entry.)

 

"Oh, Its so high." Elspeth said timidly as she was shown to her room for the night. Turning to her hostess she smiled radiantly and added, "This will be perfect."

"For your comfort," Mistress Annan said as she bowed slightly to the girl before her. "We only want to give our guests the best accommodations."

The older woman backed out of the room leaving Elspeth alone staring up at the huge pile before her. Elspeth had felt like she had been treated strangely since entering into this house, from dinner where she was served first, to being offered the warmest place by the fire. Perhaps this was their custom she thought, but that statement didn't bring her any more understanding of the strangeness of it all. There was a ladder propped up against the bed waiting for her to ascend to the top, but she couldn't her arms trembled and her feet felt glued to the floor.

"One... Two... Three..." She started counting to calm herself, then quickly realized that she was counting mattresses instead. "Sixteen... Seventeen... Eighteen..." She stopped counting and swallowed taking hold of the first rung of the ladder. Stepping up she started her count again lifting one foot above the other and nineteen rungs later she threw herself onto the pile of stack of mattresses.

The bedding was soft, made from the finest materials. The silks whispered across her skin as she turned over and stared at the very close ceiling.

"Breath," she reminded herself, "just breathe."

And that's how the hours passed until the first light of morning blushed through the window far below her.

 

"Oh, my Dear," the older woman addressed her at the breakfast table. "You look so tired. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, quite well. Thank you." Elspeth lied, and plastered a smile on her face.

Mistress Annan paused for a moment in thought, her lips curling up at the corners as she outwardly accepted the lie, but inwardly she laughed at her discovery. This girl, more than likely was the lost princess! That pea beneath the piles of feathers and cloth must be what kept her awake all night. However she didn't say anything out loud and continued to serve Elspeth throughout the day and finally escorted her back to the mattress room that evening.

"Good night, Dear." Mistress Annan said, a little patronizingly as she left Elspeth once again at the door.

Again she turned around and looked at the daunting climb, and tonight, instead of summiting the mountain she curled up on the floor near the door and tried to sleep. The floor was most uncomfortable, making her toss and turn throughout the night resulting in little sleep and a crick in her neck.

 

The second morning she sat at the table and rubbed her neck gently while the household bustled about her.

"Is everything all right, Miss?" A young serving girl asked her as the table was being cleared. Elspeth didn't notice the mistress of the house lurking in a near by doorway when she replied.

"I didn't sleep very well Bessie. Might you bring me a warm cloth for my aches while I lounge on the settee for a while.

"Yes, Miss. Right away." and the girl scurried off passing Mistress Annan in the hall, the latter wearing a triumphant smile.

One more night. She thought, One more test. Three would be her lucky number and then she would marry this girl to her son Hubert before announcing her royalty to the world.

 

As Elspeth reclined in the sitting room she was startled by Hubert touching her hand.

“Miss Elspeth?” He inquired as she opened her eyes. “I have grown very fond of you since you have come into my home, I’d be happy to have you as my wife… If you would take me.”

She was surprised to say the least. But she too had grown very fond of Hubert in their short time together, in fact, she would say that she had fallen in love.

“Hubert,” she said quietly. “I would have you. But I don’t think that we can be together, we are so different. Your mother would not approve.”

“She will,” Hubert said, sounding certain. “give me until tomorrow. Then we shall marry right away, I have lived this long without you, to spare another day would be torture.”

Elspeth nodded vigorously and they sealed their pact with a kiss before he excused himself to speak with his mother.

 

“I wish to marry Elspeth, Mother. She is my match in every way.” He said forcefully to his mothers back. She was standing in her garden watching the servants week her flower beds. “She is the one I have chosen.”

His voice had lost a little of his fire when Mother didn’t turn to look at him. The evening was creeping in over the tree tops creating long shadowing in the suns orange light making her seem larger and menacing.

“You have made this decision on your own?” She said, her voice cool though he had unknowingly fallen into her plans. 

“Yes Mother.” His response quiet, fearing her disapproval.

“I shall give you my answer on the morrow. Go now, and escort your betrothed to her chambers, the night is upon us.

 

“Sleep well, My love.” Hubert kissed the dainty hand that he held in his before leaving her to her evening preparations.

“Hubert, I haven’t slept well these last two nights. I fear tonight will be no different.” She sounded resigned and lay her hand on the knob to her chamber. “Good night nonetheless, dear Hubert.”

He reached out taking her hand and pulling her one step towards him. “Then we shall wed at mid-day and tomorrow night you may rest in my arms.”

With a kiss he was off and Elspeth was again left alone with the insurmountable task of trying to sleep on the great pile that was her bed. Remembering how horrible the floor was to sleep on she once again climbed the ladder, because lying awake all night fearing a fall to her death was much more comfortable upon the mattresses than sleeping on the hard wooden floors.

 

Upon the third morning the bags under Elspeth’s eyes were darker and her eyes had a hard time remaining open, but today was her wedding day and she could not fall asleep before the ceremony.

Mother had surprised Hubert by bringing the Parson to breakfast and announcing that he should marry as soon as possible and as soon as they had breakfasted preparations were hurriedly being made.

Elspeth was swept off by several maids and bathed before she was stuffed into a white dress that she was told belonged to the Mistress Annan and adorned with jewels from the master’s collection.  

Before she knew it she was standing next to Hubert, dressed in his finest suit and taking her vows.

“… and now I pronounce you man and wife.” The Parson’s final words hung in the air for a moment before Huber and Elspeth kissed for the first time as a married couple and as they parted Mother waved two men in to the room.

“Mother?” Huber questioned. “Who are these gentlemen?”

“Sir Lelandor and Sir Cavendish,” She addressed to herself to the men, and not to Hubert. “I present to you the Princess Elizabeth Orillia Graventhope Calliope.” She bowed low, holding her hand out towards Elspeth as if presenting her as a gift to the new comers.

“What?” Hubert and Elspeth asked at the same time. Elspeth gapped and Hubert turned to her.

“I can't believe it. I'm in love! I'm in love with a young, beautiful, talented Princess.” Hubert dipped her low and kissed her.

“Princess?” She sounded confused, pushing on his chest urging him to put her up right.

“Oh... not that the title's important, of course!” He said quickly to be sure she understood.

“I’m not a Princess.” She said flatly.

“Not a Princess?” Hubert questioned.

“No, I’m a poet.” Shaking her head she looked at Mistress Annan.

“A poet?” Sir Lelandor replied sounding scandalized.

”What?” Mother interjected, for now she was Elspeth mother as well.

“I’m not a Princess,” she restated it seemed everyone was hard of hearing today.

But the test?! Mother said, her hand fluttering in Elspeth’s direction. “She slept three nights on a pea beneath twenty mattresses and slept poorly each night.. How can you not be the Princess?!?”

“You silly woman,” Elspeth practically laughed. “I slept poorly, because I am afraid of heights. Not because of some miniscule vegetable place beneath me.”

“Oh!” Mother wailed. “Oh, I am ruined!” crumpling to the floor she sobbed loudly.

“And you, Hubert?” Elspeth asked turning to her new husband. “Are you ruined as well?”

“No, My love, You make a much better poet than a princess any day.” He smiled lifting her into his arms.

Sir Lelandor and Sir Cavendish, stood dumbfounded at the revelation that wasn’t a revelation right in the way of the happy couple.

“If you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I’m going home to sleep with my wife.”

 

Fin.

 

(yes, I know, I stole some movie quotes. Don't sue me.)

My head... The begging of Anna and Conor must stop....

“Do you remember Conor, when I first met you.” She sighed. “So young, with so much potential…. You certainly have grown into what I expected, although not with my guiding hand as an influence” She smiled as she stood, leaning forward to stroke the chalice she never removed her eyes from Conor. “I marked you as mine. Conor du’Ruan. You were meant for great things, but only at my side.” She shook her head as if chastising a wayward child.

“Peri nok avin coor” He voice like silk spun in Conor’s head as the magenta liquid spun in the chalice. Her finger drew a circle on the glass and as she drew her finger upwards the blood swirled and merged and danced around her finger tip. Raising her hand to the lip of the chalice a single drop of blood rose into the air and pulsed in an alternating beat from the rest it had left behind. He could feel it in his veins. That was his… That was him hovering there below Shevta’s hand.

“It has always been in my power to bring you back to me, had I chosen, However your experiences outside of my grasp has created a better man then it would have here. I like what you have become, and I choose to keep it now.”

Holding out a hand, palm up, a young serving girl gently placed in her hand a clear crystal attached to a thin silver chain.

“From this day, Conor du’Ruan. You are mine. Soul and body. Your will is mine. your thoughts are mine. Your heart is mine.”

Smut ... isn't it about time?

I started writing my new book last night.

 

I decided that it was going to be a Fantasy/Fiction Romance (smut) Novel and so far I have torture, death, magical seer stones, symbiotic healing, mental bonding, love and loss, and it's leading up to another great murder scene... and I'm only 1K into the story.

 

I do need a name for the Romanic interest that will be coming up soon. So far I just have Anna who is the protagonist and Diggery her poor husband who will die shortly. and the bad guys... so far all I call them is "They" I haven't really decided who or what they are yet. They do have some really cool weapons though. :)

 

I'm not sure how much of a smut novel it will turn out to be though, it really depends on who is going to get to read it and whether or not I want to be totally embarrassed by people reading it. But then again, stories often take on lives of their own and I don't know what will happen between the pages.

 

And that brings up the interesting question of: are people who write romance novels ever embarrassed by their work thinking that their parents may pick up their book one day? I have wondered that off and on through my existence. I have read my fair share of Harlequin Romance novels and once in a while I'm embarrassed to admit that I read it, let alone admitting that I wrote one.

Poetry in motion

I have recently discovered my portfolio with all of my poetry and some from other people, and I love it. I love the dark twisted person that comes from behind the words and screams for someone to notice them. Was that really me? Is that me still? who knows. All I know is that my darkness makes me smile and I laugh at what I thought was pain as a teenage girl. how little I knew of what life had in tore for me later.... This particular poem caught my attention today as I was looking for something to post. I wrote it on my birthday in 1996 during creative writing class and I again wonder what my teacher thought of me and my mental state. I guess I was positive enough to the outside world that it may have appeared I was a normal person.

Without further ado here is my birthday poem in all it's glory:

Happy Birthday

elizabeth pears 1996

The sin of the eye

Compared to the hand

Blinking

Beating

Fluttering in the snow

I see.

I see you,

Laughing

Cold

Empty

Laughs –

I see.

I see the chupacabra

Sucking blood

Sucking goats -

Goats blood

Blood sucking Vampire -

Ripping the veins

Death

Dying

Dead

Cold

Frozen

Unthaw.

Like children

Playing

In a dark

December river

Flowing

And not moving

Like tears in unfeeling eyes

~*~

Poems By Liz

ONE TRUE FRIEND
Elizabeth Pears 1999

I see his eyes smiling at me
from a picture on the wall
Seeming to know me…
To know it all
The mistakes I have made
sometimes make him frown
But I know his arms will comfort me
When it seems no one else is around.
My cares seem less pressing
My life seems less hard.
His voice I’ve never heard
But I already know the sound
Lovingly guiding me
And showing me the way.
My Savior,
My Hero,
My Friend.

another story written by me

I believe this story was written in 1997 in my creative writing class my senior year of high school. Enjoy -

The Perfect drug...

I was laying on my bed one day, sleeping (as usual), when I was suddenly awoken by a giant praying mantis that ambushed me and dragged me down kicking and screaming into the underworld that is inhabited by fiery beasts that stole my soul and took possession of my helpless body. The beast named Tomastis planned to take over my body and use my human form to destroy the universe. My soul was then forced to live in a jar no bigger then a shot glass (it was either that or have my soul eaten by Marilyn Manson...) With such peril threatening the fate of all mankind I had to come up with something... FAST. As I devised my plan, it came to mind that I must steal my captors body in order to make my escape quicker, and hopefully allow me to get out unnoticed. It took weeks for me to seduce the keeper of the jar into letting me out so I could show him a magic trick and my relentless pleas were not in vain, he soon released me from the urn of my imprisonment spurred by the pure curiosity of learning the magic of my world. I began the mesmerizing feat of the disappearing quarter, and by telling him the quarter was in his ear, I was successfully able to grab his head and beat it against the wall causing him to loose consciousness. To assure that I wouldn't be caught, I fed his soul to the satanistic beings who cried out in need of the life renewing souls, which only one of the living could give. I took strange pleasure in flinging that poor soul to its destruction and all while laughing the uncontrollable laugh of a mad man. As I walked away from the pit of Hell, I stepped into a large puddle of radioactive slime, causing me to gain super human powers and strength. The force caused by the sudden transfer of energy knocked me to the floor in a daze. It seemed like hours before I was able to stand up without being overcome by the psychic visions that paralyzed my brain. Still weak and unsteady I worked my way towards a light in the distance, but was stopped by a huge army of demons. It seemed that my adventure had come to an end. There was no hope for the universe now... so I fell to my knees and let them attack.... However, thanks to my newly acquired super powers I was unharmed and able to fight my way free using the lightning that came from my fingertips. I was able to destroy most of them, and the ones I didn't destroy, escaped and fled back to where they had come from. I was stunned by the electricity that I could feel flowing through my body, and decided to see what, if anything, I could do other then shoot hell fire from my fingers. The more I searched within myself I found that I also had the ability to disappear and to fly, all this combined with my super human strength made me indestructible... As interesting as it was learning of my abilities, I had to save the universe. I proceeded on my journey and finally made it to the light and discovered a rip in the interdimensional time continuum. This was my chance to escape, and I took it. But alack alack, I was too late. The beasts had already taken over my life and the world was much altered from the way I remembered it. My family had all been captured and were set in jars over the mantel of the fireplace. Tomastis had removed all of the furniture from the house in order to set up headquarters. Everything had changed. It was then that I confronted my body in the hopes of peace, but was soon drawn into mortal combat, no rules, just my body against my soul...........

a story I wrote in 1999

Once upon a time an old friend of mine met me in the grocery store and related to me this little story.... A friend of ours... we'll call him Bob.... was out walking one day when he was suddenly stopped by a bright beam of light appearing in the sky above him and was frozen into place as he watched as what seemed like hundreds of bodies fell from with in the beam and landed in a bloody sprawling mass in front of him. And as you can probably guess he was paralyzed with fear so his attempts to run were futile...... The light seemed to get brighter for a moment and from within it came a figure of a exceeding tall man, or something in the shape of a man, and with a voice that came clearly in to his subconscious mind he was warned...... "We're coming for you... ALL OF YOU.... The Echo People WILL rule again!!" and then it all suddenly disappeared as quickly as it had come... bodies and all. All that was left of the encounter was a huge puddle of blood and the sound of Mephistophelean laughter ringing through his head that won't go away. The poor man has been taken away to a sanitarium over this... What do you think that means? The echo people will rule again?

Strange......

it was time

Finally, after an 8 year break I decided that it was time to go back to writing the novel I started when I was in 8th grade.

It is titled Three Stupid Men and a Very Confused Girl. I had the plot laid out, every one had a code name and a back story, entire chapters had been written and if you ask me, I thought it was pretty good (I know, I'm bias). I recently bought a laptop so I could have something to do while John was on the computer, and vise versa. When I got the new addition to our family, I found a renewed desire to write, and to write one specific story ... My Spy Novel.

So I've looked for my notes - any notes - related to this story. I found some (very little) on my computer, but the bulk of the notes were in a reddish/maroon folder that I had been hand writing the story in since I was 13. I have looked at my mom's house, I have looked in my memoirs, I have looked in my cedar chest and even cleaned my extra bedroom to find this folder.... but it is NO WHERE. It is gone and I am again feeling the loss of something VERY important to me.

Maybe I'm just on edge from the traumatic events of the past week, but I literally sat down on the floor and cried the other night because it is gone and all I have to go off of are the first few chapters and some random notes.

woe is me.

I am seeing a pattern - everything I have loved in my life, people, pets, books, and my writings are all eventually taken away from m.

Yes, I know I'm only 29 and the rest of my life is still in front of me, but the past 10 years have been so full of loss and disappointment, I'm just not sure I'm ready for the next 50 years to be the same.

Is it really too much to ask that I could just have a nice, beautiful life with less death and hardship on my part??

 

 

Honestly, who throws a shoe.

Once Upon a time.....

I fancied myself to be a writer. Hence the word "fancied" and "hence". I loved to write stories and poems and the periodic soap opera script for a friend in my math class. I took all sorts of creative writing classes and always passed with A's ... so what happened? In the past 8 years I haven't written anything. I don't write letter's, I don't write in my journal, I don't write emails, I haven't written a work of fiction, I have not written a poem and I have not even tried to look at the stories I started back then.
Lately though, since I started this silly blog, it seems that my head is full of useless words that don't seem to come out correctly on paper, or I have the thought but it's gone before I pick up a pen. And then suddenly I have diarrhea of the brain while typing and the world (or maybe just my family) gets to read whatever comes out. So why is that?
I have a giant gray binder in my spare room that holds every one of my stories from the time I was 13 until I stopped writing just before I went on my mission. I think the last poem I wrote was a love poem to a friend who turned around and stabbed me in the back. And I think that maybe I have an issue with picking up an unfinished story because it was with her that I had found the inspiration to write it. This was going to be my one great novel: http://www.angelfire.com/co3/jedijunk/stupidmen.html
I had the plot worked out, the story firm in my mind and I was on a roll. Sure, There was lots of parts that needed to be fleshed out, but I assumed that would come in time.
I realize now, what I didn't then, that I needed to do more reasearch about the where's and who's and how's of what was going on, but for an 18 year old girl I thought I was doing pretty good. Three Stupid Men and a Very Confused Girl was going to be my best seller. See how that turned out. hmph. Not selling so good now is it.
Then there was my poetry: http://www.angelfire.com/co3/jedijunk/poetry.html all very entertaining, often filled with darkness and very often confusing, but it was fun to write and to be read and I found it to be a release for the world around me. I could sound as crazy as I wanted and I wouldn't be judged for it or mocked because they were just words and I was such a sweet happy girl with friends and a happy life so what does it mean when I'm talking to flowers or jumping out windows in my words?