EDIT BY BoB: I've edited the swear words in as they're allowed in poetry/stories in this forum so long as they're used in good taste. 
Yeah thats' right Nik... here are the jobs, finally:
Username: Jack
BEAUTY - Poem
Beyond that gate, there in lies beauty
And where the manicured fingers
Pushing away the solar system arise
The sun, the star and the moon
Are dour onlookers, attempting to disturb
The strings holding Venus and Mars
Together in divine rapture
Holding hands
And the Planets crash between them
In their emotional landslide
And all the moonlit sparkles in the dark
Watch their impacts cry dusty tears
Their dusty tears of shame
For all their anger of the colossus
Beauty shall not disperse
She floats within every reaction
But not in my skin, your skin or theirs
For Beauty divine does not need it
Nor does it crave the angels of space
To show off it's handi-craft
In their glowing nebulae's face
Neither the chords of time is wanted
Humming a gentle tone in our heart
Beauty simply flows through it's rhythm
And disapates heaven through the stars
All it needs is everyone
For this is beautiful
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=Angelus=
~My Unfound Princess~
I await you...
With all my childhood's Fantasies, and all true hope
I await you, my unfound princess.. i await you...
I sight you in ever loving couple
and scent you in pretty little flowers
Isurvey you in the ocean of stars you swim in..
As i search out each star, to find your light
I sense you calling me.. as boldly.. as sincerely..
As Timelessly! as i seek you..
And yes.. I hear you profess you love me..
...well, my unfound princess.. I love you too..
With all my childhood's fantasies, and all true hope..
I await you.. I await you...
I watch the nights pass,
asking the starts if they've seen you
I peep into every girl's eyes..
..and wonder... Could it be you?...
I die each day in waiting..
In bed, alone, asleep..
Yet under the sheets, I've not given up finding..
the missing part of me.. is you...
Blood burns through my vessels.
As I Long and search, and Cry out for you..
With all my childhood's fantasies, and all true hope..
I await you, my unfound princess..
I await you...
(.......Let me be with you.. ...)
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Eestlinc
Buried treasure - Poem
lunging angular like a starved child
one dollar a day could save
(if you believe your tv)
toward a packet of bacos crunch crunch
(they really DO make the salad!)
a bandaid on a bloodbath lasts about three seconds
tear up the tundra shred apart your couch
you know you left it somewhere
there's got to be more just a little sniff
there you go OH BABY that's the stuff
where have you been all my life? (I know, I know, the couch)
dancing for entire seconds (those were some damn amazing seconds) then done
remorseless you lay down in the park
count the stars in the sky one two three four five
you remember when there were more
where do they all go? Maybe they DON'T burn forever
but you'll get used to life with less
don't have much choice really
there has to be more than this
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Doom
Angel - Poem
Celestial being from a distant realm, far away
Your radiance shields me from my shadows
And opens me up to truth in a world of bitter lies
You saved my soul with your glorious guidance
And lifted my spirits with your divine light of hope
My angel
Seraphic elegance from a beautiful dream, so close
Your eternal love protects me from my doubts
And allows me purity in a world tainted by sin
You rescued my mind with your gentle words
And raised my morale with your tender touch of warmth
My angel
Heavenly grace from an unknown paradise, right here
Your faith shelters me from my pain
And gives me strength in a world where I am weak
You freed my heart with your sweet voice
And picked me up when I was down with your sacred prayers of comfort
My angel
Blessed with your arrival
I found solace in your arms
Now I soar the skies with you by my side
My angel
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The Captain
The Lovers Of Evermore - Poetry
So they stood, held in an embrace,
Neither wishing to let go or for the moment to end,
But it had to, they had to pull away
Their lives had to seperate and endure alone
As Fate had driven them apart.
So for this final time,
They tried to engulf one another,
Tears streamed down
Staining their cheeks,
Burning with an unforgiving icy fire
That had no mercy.
Word would not come
Nor would any message be sent
To either by the other,
And they both knew it,
Yet they tried to fight this feeling,
Bury it deep within themselves,
As if to erase a vision.
As the wind swept up,
Catching them in its midst,
They gazed into each others' eyes,
Looking for a means to run away,
To escape their troubles altogether
But nothing came,
And all they could see
Was the sadness redefined.
The cruel dread came to fruition
At last, and they parted,
Neither willing to look back
And again have their heart pierced
By the sharp blade of inevitability
That had broken them already,
And as they walked
Each wished to fly away
To be lifted far above their worries.
The skies opened,
And the world seemed to weep
For this broken chance at immortality
That true love can give, Yet
Nothing could stop this demise
But the single light that shone
Began to hit them both later
As they realized
That the memories of each other
Would forever endure.
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Ansem
Category : Poem
Lost amidst the forest
The four of us here stand
A grief in my chest
As I blindly shred the land
The four of us here stand
A knife within my lover
As I blindly shred the land
Above, his soul will hover
A knife within my lover
Blood across the ground
Above, his soul will hover
The killer’s pain shall sound
Blood across the ground
A grief in my chest
The killer’s pain shall sound
Lost amidst the forest
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Anonymus (This person asked to be anonymus)
Poem
I am not human,
I am something different,
Something higher.
I can see the future,
but i can not remember what ive seen.
I can hear the past,
but its meaning eludes me.
I can feel the present,
as it slips through my fingers.
I am one with time
as it is one with me.
I am not human,
I am something different,
something higher.
The animals speak to me
and i listen.
I speak to the animals,
and they obey.
I speak to the universe,
and it listens.
The universe speaks to me,
and i obey.
I am not human,
I am something different,
something higher.
Death can not take me,
for I am him.
Life can not be taken away,
for I am he.
I am the bringer of both.
I work for neither.
I am not human,
I am something different
something higher.
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Kolumbia
Poem:
It wasn't our fault that we never met
It wasn't my fault that I wasn't always on net
But in my way of changing
My friends and my life are fading
But, baby, hear me out
I am innocent, innocent
Baby, I'll scream out loud
I am innocent, innocent
I can look at other men
But you're not there
I hope that u left off my mistakes
None of this was fake
But, baby, hear me out
I am innocent, innocent
Baby, I'll scream out loud
I am innocent
Innocent
I may seem the worst
Person of the World
Evidences say I'm guilty
But I'm innocent
Darling, hear me out
I' pure
Honey, hear me out
You're my only cure
But, baby, hear me out
I am innocent, innocent
Baby, I'll scream out loud
I am innocent
Innocent
But, baby, hear me out
I am innocent, innocent
Baby, I'll scream out loud
I am innocent
I am innocent
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FallenAngel411
Category: Poem
The Prince of Forever
There once was a girl who couldn’t belong
A young little girl with whom something seemed wrong
Her complexion was pale, her hair dark and dingy
Peers and parents alike found her odd and creepy
The girl herself was quiet and brooding
Lost in a past that was cold and intruding
Could they ever know the loneliness she felt?
Could they understand the cruel hand she was dealt?
One cold night, as it had just begun snowing
The girl decided to run away, no notion to where she was going
She took the clothes on her back
She took a teddy in her pack
And off she went into the snow
Into the darkness, into infinite unknown
It was some hours before she realized she was numb
Not a jacket or a sweater, and for food, not a crumb
She had left her home hoping it would end
But this feeling of sadness she could not apprehend
She held her teddy close and slipped into the icy powder
In the background her heartbeat became louder and louder
Her last waking thought before falling into the abyss
Was, dear God! Please let there be more beyond this!
She had not a clue how long she was gone
But when her eyes opened, there was no glorious dawn
No beautiful angels, or smiling saints
Only inky black, her mind in constraints
Was this what she had earned, for a life full of woe?
For her soul-wrenching sadness, did God hate her so?
But at the sound of her cries, a shadow moved
She was not alone in this hell, this stone room removed
The figure stepped into the pale dawn moonlight
And her eyes were met with his, a deep swirl of midnight
Feathery wings of bleak futures and dreams
Dark hair that stirred from a thousand screams
Time seemed to freeze as she watched this dismal vision
Contemplating on the rashness of her decision
Before her stood the Prince of Forever
Holding time in his hands, the fruits of her endeavor
She knew this, yet she ventured to say
That upon this world, she believed she should stay
The prince gave a short laugh, the void in his chest growing
Did she think that in death, to his castle she would be going?
No, he had stolen her from Death, for her spirit was true
Among snow and contempt, she had fallen right through
So similar to him, he felt
A pulsing where his heart once dwelt
He’d have her safe within his keep
But prevent those feelings from running too deep
One year soon passed since she arrived
But as in life, she was deprived
Kept in a locked tower near the sky
She wished she had the wings to fly
No soul to speak to since he closed the door
Her hopes soon dashed, her tears ignored
She’d grown stoic and silent in her satin cage
No peaceful moment, no restful age
She cursed the man who had kept her from death
Even for Hell she would take her dying breath
For what kind of life was this she led?
Of endless days and endless dread?
She prayed for the day when she could finally sleep
And never awaken from the calling deep
She toyed with the idea of imminent suicide
An option she had long ago tried
Another year passed, time became blurred
And when the door opened, she barely stirred
She was a shell of a being, a woman turned cold
When the prince finally saw her, he beheld miseries untold
He felt pity and remorse for forgetting his guest
And it seemed once again something writhed in his chest
He carried her frail form to a chamber much warmer
Where he sat and watched the heat transform her
Her cheeks flushed with life
Her eyes lessened in strife
And in a few moments she saw his face
She shot up and watched him with distaste
He looked steadily back, never flinching
Though he could never apologize, his conscience was clinching
He said she was free to roam his vast palace
And that he understood her hostility and malice
With that, he got up and left her alone
And she felt that perhaps that he could atone
Though he neglected her so long, his eyes had told stories
Of fallen heroes and stolen glories
Months and seasons passed and not a word was spoken
Though they passed one another, it seemed all bonds were broken
Until one day that the prince took a twilight stroll
And he beheld her gorgeous soul
She stood in the garden, in the shade of the oak
Her hair blowing slightly, wrapping about her like a cloak
Her soft whimpers tickled his ears and his wonder
He had thought all humanity had gone asunder
But he understood as he observed a tear
That her humanity came through crystal clear
Why had he brought her here, so unhappy and lost?
She had come here a girl, now a woman crossed
Why had he felt the need to have her near him?
As if he could ruin lives on a single whim
But he did, oh he did—ruin lives on his whim
It was the game he played, though bleak and grim
Had he thought he could ever be loved
When her feelings and pride he had heartlessly shoved?
And here she was, so radiant and stunning
The hidden soul he had all along been shunning
He would right his wrongs, he decided, he would change time for her
He would put her where she truly belonged, a taxing transfer
So he came, startling her from her pain
He lifted her into the sky, as it began to rain
The higher they flew, the brighter they glowed
And slowly but surely, the rain turned to snow
She had not a clue, but in her heart which was dead
The faint stirrings of life soon began to spread
She looked at his eyes, and saw not endless midnight
But an old and strange feeling both shadowy and bright
I’m sorry, he said, for the pain you’ve endured
But I will remedy this mistake, rest assured
The stars twinkled overhead as she smiled her first
And he smiled as well, and the sky screamed and burst
There was snow and stars, and two strangers in the air
There was a distant and bizarre love they would always share
One single kiss was all it took
And she was gone from his arms, as was the feeling he forsook
She stood from the snow, still holding her teddy
She shook her sleepy head, wavered, but kept steady
Keeping her head down, she walked against the icy wind
Towards the place she knew she would find her life, still pinned
Was it but a silly dream, a fantastical tome?
She didn’t know, she didn’t care, she wanted to go home
Unbeknownst to her, he still waited in the sky
His new heart kept her warm, and he watched her with a tearful eye
Who could have thought, that through never and ever
A mere mortal as she would break the Prince of Forever
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BloodHunter
Category: Poem
Itll be over one day, because of me... For nothing can contain my strength...And in the end i will be left alone...tested to the bone...Fighting through this chaotic rumble... The enemies have taken a tumble...For I have stricken them down.. With my Blade.. I dont need armor. I never have... Im unbeateble...undefeatable... Untouched by any weapon... And my status will never change... For I am in this battle till the end...This battle is LIFE
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Nik0tine
Poem
Fields of winter, guilded by the sun
Bright colors, exquisite bloom
warmth and wind, together they run
april showers, melodic tune
Love is ripe, and in a fertile state
red flowers, midday swoon
The art of nature, the will to create
laughter, the month of june
Life and it's elements: A symphony
Lady bug, a rouged moon
Spring is truthful, a golden testimony
peaceful calm, a nap at noon
And finally this time has come
The time to be guilded by the sun.
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Starlight Angel
Poem
____The Path that Goes So High
Blue moon shining in the sky,
White clouds leading up so high,
Are you brave, or are you shy?
Pick a path, leading down or high
I know my heart is cowardly,
But I shall, choose up high,
I will go, oh so far,
On the path that goes so high
Blue moon shining in the sky,
White clouds leading up so high,
Are you brave, or are you shy?
Pick a path, leading down or high
With my friends, I travel on,
Never stopping, for long,
We may be, scarred forever,
From this path that goes so high
Blue moon shining in the sky,
White clouds leading up so high,
Are you brave, or are you shy?
Pick a path, leading down or high
As long as we keep fighting,
Our hearts shall never die,
When we finally make it through,
On the path that goes so high
Blue moon shining in the sky,
White clouds leading up so high,
We are brave, not shy,
‘Cause we picked the path, that goes up so high.
Blue moon shining in the sky,
White clouds leading up so high,
We are brave, not shy,
‘Cause we picked the path, that goes up so high.
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These were the poems, now the stories....
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Odaise Gaelach
Story
Summary: It's only 1000 words long.
Notes: The Ceíli is an Irish disco but with traditional Irish music and dancing. The Siege of Ennis is one such dance.
Title: Untitle
Story:
And then she left the note on the kitchen table explaining why she would not come home, and she left without a sound.
Joanne coughed, and watched her breath swirling in the air, until it vanished in the cold night. Maybe she would be cremated... Nah. Not yet. She was sixteen years old. And she was going to die.
Joanne coughed again. She hadn't her mobile phone, there was no one else with her, she was walking alone. Alone again. Well, tonight she would be free. Free in love, forever. She pushed her short white-blonde hair back out of her hazel eyes. Her clothes were loose enough to hide the tumour on her waist.
She thought of the other boys who were in "love" with her. Morons who wanted a kiss, a hug or something else. She wanted love, not sex. But they wouldn't be at the céilí. "Thank God," Joanne muttered.
And Joanne reached the céilí, gave €5 to the small bouncer at the door, and then was inside. She looked around. Banna na nÓg were preparing their equipment, the girls were jabbering and laughing, the boys talking loudly.
There.
Lee was sitting with them. She placed a hand on her breast and felt her heart beating hard. She willed it to be quiet and pain rushed through her. She winced slightly and looked at her watch. Only three hours left.
"Hey, Joanne!"
Lee was calling her. She ignored the pain and sat down beside Lee.
"How are you?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she lied. "How are you?"
"Couldn't be happier," Lee grinned.
"Really, why?"
And then Joanne saw Ophelia approaching them. She sat beside Lee and handed him a can of Coke.
"Bonsoir," she said.
"Bonsoir," replied Lee and he gave her a kiss. "Are you dancing tonight?"
"Hmm, we'll see," and she gave him a kiss. They would have kissed until the end of time but the master walked out onto the dance floor.
"Siege of Ennis," he announced.
"Great!" Lee said. "Ophelia, are you dancing with me now?"
"No," she replied. "I'll stay here and talk to our friend."
So Lee left and the French trollop chatted to Joanne. "He's wonderful, magnificent, blah," talking to a girl who was green with envy.
After a while the music stopped and Lee sat down. He was red in the face and drank the rest of his Coke but he only had a moment's rest until the music started again.
"Are you dancing now Ophelia?"
"Err... no." she answered.
"Oh, okay, Lee said, a little put out.
"I'm dancing," Joanne stood up and pushed her white-blonde hair back again.
"Great!" Lee smiled warmly.
Hand in hand they danced, Joanne's heart was racing and she started to blush. "It's hot in here," she said. She was in Heaven so close to Lee, and when the music stopped Lee was laughing and so was she. She never felt so alive - and pain burned inside her again. She clutched her side and the tumour.
"You okay?" Lee asked.
"Yeah..." she gasped. "I've a stitch in my side. That was a tough dance."
"Yeah," agreed Lee, laughing again. "Can you take another one?"
Joanne smiled broadly. "Try and stop me."
And the night passed, Lee dancing, Joanne suffering with a smile on her face. Now and again Ophelia would dance as well, but it wasn't too often. One time Ophelia and Lee were dancing and the little bouncer sang a beautiful waltz, and they kissed under the glimmering disco ball. Joanne couldn't bear to look at them.
After three hours the bouncer came to the microphone again and the time had come. The final dance. Joanne looked at Lee, her lips and her heart trembling. But Lee was already talking to Ophelia. Incredibly, she shook her head; she'd refused. Lee looked very annoyed.
"I'd like to dance with you Lee," Joanne said.
For the longest second Lee said nothing.
"Yeah," he finally answered. "Thanks."
"Okay," she said and they started. She put her hand on his waist and he put his hand on her waist - and on her tumour.
Joanne gasped.
"What's wrong?!" Lee asked her.
"Nothing, I'm fine..." she straightened up. "Now, where were we?"
They danced, and as soon as they were under the disco ball Joanne whispered softly in his ear.
"Lee, I love you."
Lee stopped dancing, and looked into her eyes.
"I don't love you," he replied slowly.
The words that she had been dreading fell on her like swords. She felt the vicious pain again and thought her heart would break.
"But... why?"
"Because I love Ophelia."
She was stunned. She couldn't understand why Lee loved that French slut. "And me... don't you have any feelings for me?"
"No."
"But," she sniffed, "what will I do?"
For the first time Lee hesitated.
"Because you're Joanne, nothing else. I'm Lee, nothing else, except my soul and my life. You’re Joanne, and nothing else, except your soul, and your life."
And as Lee said "life" Joanne suddenly realised that she hadn't long left in her life. Her life. And the pain in the tumour and her body intensified. Her body. Joanne's alone.
And she knew the end had almost come, and she made to leave, but first Joanne turned to Lee and kissed him.
"Goodbye Lee," she whispered, and with her heart heavy and a tear down her cheek she disappeared into the night.
Joanne walked on, and as the buildings changed to trees and the sky was no longer tarnished with the town lights she stopped and looked at her watch. She was shaking badly and her breath was harsh.
She should have died half an hour ago.
And as her eyes dimmed she looked up at the stars, shining in all their brilliance and drew her last breath. She was finally free. Free from love. Free.
The next time Lee saw her was in her coffin. He saw her peaceful smile, and it comforted him.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Strider
Story
it's based on characters from the Capcom video game series of the same name, and it's more of an introduction to their world than a complete story.
Eastern Ukraine
The chill of the Russian winter had descended upon the last democracy in Eastern Europe. A veil of concern clouded its leaders’ ambitions. Revolution churned beneath the surface of the country’s uneasy peace with its neighbors. Tensions had risen between the neo-Soviet legions that swept into power throughout the rest of the region and the men who represented, at least in Western eyes, the last bastion of freedom in the area. Mother Russia desired to rule her children once more, Ukraine had resisted.
In a military base on the northern shore of the Black Sea, the neo-Soviets plotted a coup. Their desire was to destroy the Ukrainian government with supposedly loyal ranks. It was the same plan that had consumed Belarus, Lithuania, Kazakh, Moldova. A corrupt general named Pietr Tsvirinko masterminded the operation, training his troops and biding his time before he was called upon to march to Kiev.
The Ministry of Defense had demanded perfection from its army in the face of an ominous, instructing Tsvirinko to prepare his troops as necessary. In recent days, they had trained out in the snow, in the sea, hardening their resolve in sub-zero temperatures. Tsvirinko was confident that nothing would slow their advance once it was underway.
Hiryu knew all of this. Tsvirinko was the target he’d been assigned. The mission was to observe and strike, to disrupt the target’s best laid plans. The Strider organization demanded perfection, too, and he knew he would deliver.
As the time to act approached, he busied himself by preparing devices for detonation in a warehouse that stored machines of destruction: Tanks, armored vehicles, fighter jets. He brushed his scarf away from his line of sight and looked down at everything, recognizing that it would all be several billion dollars worth of scrap heap in a matter of minutes. It didn’t matter, though, the Ukrainian Prime Minister had said so himself upon receiving word of the Striders’ surveillance. Whatever it takes. That, however, applied on every mission.
He paused as the bay doors opened. Two Soviet traitors stepped inside, likely to shelter themselves from the bitter cold of the night. Hiryu shuddered, too, but kept still so not to give away his presence. They kept the doors open, much to his chagrin, as they ambled slowly into the facility, discussing the best laid plans.
“I am told, comrade, that we are to prepare for our undertaking by tomorrow night,” the first man spoke, “Surely, this will be a great victory for Russia.”
“Indeed, Ukraine has lost her way,” the second man responded, “But I am pleased that the sons of Lenin have returned to prominence, and that I may help their cause.”
They continued to converse about things Hiryu already knew, and he became bothered by the freezing cold that leaked into the building. It would have to be taken care of.
He withdrew Falchion, the unique double-handled Cipher Blade that was his weapon of choice, gripping the side handle to place the sharp edge on the outside of his hand. Slowly, he stood up out of his crouch, taking care not to prematurely lose the grip his magnetic boots had on the ceiling, and surrendered himself to gravity.
The men had not seen him working, as complete stealth was a primary goal of a Strider’s mission, and did not see who brought them to their demise as he deftly took them apart with Falchion. It took three strokes to fell both of them, and Hiryu wasted no time in closing the doors so that he could work once more in comfort.
As he climbed back up the side wall, he tapped the communicative device on his wrist to check on his other preparations.
“Sheena, how are we doing?”
“It’s cold out here, Hiryu,” his friend responded. Her responsibility was to keep watch on the perimeter and secure an escape path. “They should be doing this when I don’t have to wear my weight in clothes.”
Hiryu smiled to himself, shaking his head, “Tell me about it. I hate weather delays.”
“You should be thankful you’re inside this time, Hiryu. To answer the question, too, I’m just waiting for your signal.”
“Good to hear. Stay sharp, it won’t be long now.”
“Right. Sheena out.”
He tapped his wrist again and knelt back in front of the detonator on the ceiling, “Kain, are you set?”
“Yeah, I’m ready to get this show on the road, Hiryu,” the veteran Strider answered, “I’ve been trying to play solitaire with all this waiting, but it’s hard when the cards keep blowing away in the wind.”
Hiryu chuckled quietly, placing the last fuses in place, “Well, you’re in luck. The wait is over, so ready up.”
“Lock and load! Always my favorite part of the mission. Kain out.”
Sheena and Kain had always been the closest things that Hiryu had to peers in his time in the Strider organization. At 21 years of age, he was a unanimous choice as the most highly-skilled fighter in the world. If that were true, then he considered his friends to be second and third, which was certainly a feat in itself. Where he was exceedingly proficient in hand-to-hand combat, it was Sheena that had taught him the ins and outs of demolition. Kain, advanced in age next to the other two, was superior with firearms. Their abilities together made them the most formidable unit anyone had ever seen.
He armed the device and coolly descended from the ceiling again. The men that had entered earlier had disarmed the alarm to protect against intruders, so Hiryu reset it before readying himself to venture outside. With Falchion at his side, he pulled open the doors.
As expected, the alarm began to blare obnoxiously. Outside, the airhorns that normally warned against aerial attacks rang out. Hiryu glanced around, waiting for the soldiers to discover the problem and fix it. It took a minute, but they finally noticed his presence and surrounded him. Everyone knew who he was before he did anything and they filled out a full circle a dozen men deep, hundreds of semi-automatic rifles and machine guns trained on him.
No one fired, however, and Hiryu suspected there was a reason for that. He wasn’t surprised, then, to see General Tsvirinko create a partition in the ranks so that he could meet his intruder face to face. Tsvirinko, too, recognized Hiryu, frowning and pacing around him slowly.
“So… I see the Prime Minister already recognizes our threat,” he said, “It means nothing, we can break anything.”
Hiryu turned his head slightly, keeping Falchion ready, “Anything?”
Tsvirinko approached Hiryu from behind and spoke over his shoulder, “We can break even you, Strider.”
“I’m glad you’re confident, General,” Hiryu replied, “But I’m also afraid for you.”
The Soviet came around full circle and looked his Strider opponent in the eye. “Why are you afraid for me, sir, when you should be afraid for your own life?”
He raised a hand, and the multitude of soldiers responded by raising their arms to fire. Hiryu didn’t waver; this wasn’t the worst situation he’d ever been in. It wasn’t a perilous situation at all, but was rather lulling the enemy into false security.
“I’m afraid, General, that anything you can do…”
Hiryu tapped his wrist, signaling Sheena to commence the detonation. He tilted his head down slightly, knowingly, although it was puzzling to the Soviets.
“… I can do better.”
On command, there was a bright flash of light followed by a massive vertical fireball. Hiryu had stepped safely out of range and knew the blast was coming, kneeling for cover, which was more than the soldiers around him could boast. Everyone flinched and was consequently bowled over or blown back by the force of the explosion. Flame and debris began to rain from the sky as Hiryu began his escape, breaking through a hole in the ring while eliminating any soldiers sprawled in his path.
Tsvirinko, like everyone else, had been pushed to the ground, but was not fazed by Hiryu’s pyrotechnics, “Kill him!” he yelled to his men, “Kill him now!”
He was fazed, however, when a spray of gunfire cut through his ranks from the top of the command post nearby. Kain had set his target behind Hiryu, mowing down the Soviets as they tried to pursue his friend. The elder Strider took his time eliminating the men around Tsvirinko before aiming at the bewildered general. It was in his nature to have a little fun in the workplace whenever he could, and there wasn’t any harm in waiting to take out the target as the plan was well on the way to success. When he finally got bored, he shot Tsvirinko dead and began to pack up his weapons.
Sheena, in the meantime, ditched the trigger and set up the giant grappling hook for Hiryu to escape with. She loaded the anchor and calibrated its destination carefully, since the wire’s integrity depended on how well the building’s foundation held up under its weight. It had to be adjusted for wind, and the snow made it harder to find a lock.
“Sheena, talk to me, what’s the status of phase two?”
“It’s slow going, Hiryu,” she replied, staring down the barrel of the cannon, “This snow makes it a little more difficult than usual.”
“Okay,” he breathed, grunting as he took out another soldier on the other end of the line, “Take your time, I’ll keep in contact.”
The flow of soldiers was gaining on him as Hiryu approached his checkpoint. He needed some way to stall the tide, and found his answer with the base’s empty water tower. Without missing a step, he unlatched two devices from the belt around his back, the Options, and tossed them into the open at his side.
“Option 1, near left leg! Option 2, far right leg!”
They sprang to life, propping up on two mechanical feet to walk to their assigned destinations. Option 1 latched onto its target first, holding while Option 2 arrived. When both machines were in place, the optical eyes shifted from blue to red, signaling armament. The Falchion could control the Options from a distance away, among other things, but Hiryu was content with activating his sword’s end of the connection.
He aligned himself with the Options at the far end of the water tower, the surviving soldiers in hot pursuit and firing wildly. A thin red line grew outwards from the middle section of the Falchion blade, signaling the progress of the connection. When it reached the ends of the sword, it became brighter. The connection with the Options was made. He spun around and swung the blade across his body, emitting the destruction signal to both machines in the form of infrared waves. On cue, they exploded, one followed by the other, and they brought the tower down with them.
The tower fell through several overhead power lines and hit the surface with a dull thud before the loose ends began to send electricity across the grounds, killing a slew of soldiers in the process. Hiryu hated to see anyone die, but they had allied themselves with less than ideal company. They were condemned from the beginning.
Kain came up again on the communicator, “You sound like you’re having fun wherever you are, Hiryu. Still need some cover fire?”
“Negative, Kain,” Hiryu answered, “Meet up with Sheena and tell her to let the hook loose.”
“Gotcha. Kain out.”
He was by himself again for the moment, although that wouldn’t last long. What the remaining Soviets would do without their leader, though, was beyond him. They would keep trying to kill the three of them, to no avail, but there was no need for retaliation any longer. The target had been eliminated, and it was time to head home.
Hiryu gazed up into the clouds as he approached the checkpoint. The hook was away, and he could tell it had landed securely from the sound of the blasted concrete. It hung overheard, waiting for his arrival, but as he reached for his grappling hook, there was an interruption.
A mechanical monstrosity bombarded its way through the base’s other weapon holding area. Hiryu remembered seeing the White Bear, as it was called, throughout his surveillance, but had heard it was still inoperational. Someone had been lying, or they were going to use the heavily-armed machine at less than 100 percent. Neither prospect was particularly pleasing to Hiryu.
It turned slowly to face the young Strider, but Hiryu was undaunted. The White Bear was nearly twice as tall as he was and its variety of weaponry couldn’t be ignored, but Hiryu was plenty prepared to exploit its glaring weakness: Speed.
It raised an arm, equipped what some kind of powerful energy-based gun, something Hiryu was certain he’d seen someplace else in the past, and charged it up to shoot. Hiryu was patient, willing to wait on making a move so that his opponent would have no chance to react once it had fired. He looked up the barrel, watching the faint energy build, waiting.
When it let the charge loose, he dodged to his left. Predictably, the machine turned with his movements and fired again. It did so two more times before Hiryu attacked, dancing forward and slicing the cannon clean off with an uppercut swipe. The dead metal clanged to the ground as another cannon emerged from the contraption’s left shoulder and began firing off lesser, but more plentiful rounds. Hiryu ran right, gathering speed before sliding on the icy pavement legs-first, leaning his head back while the shots flew inches over him. The flow went by him just enough to allow a reversal of direction and a clean shot at taking out the source, which he proceeded to accomplish methodically.
“This can’t be the best the insurgents can do,” Hiryu muttered to himself, watching the machine’s eyes as they illuminated in a soft yellow. He allowed himself to glance up at the wire, and the Bear followed suit. Before Hiryu could react, it raised its other hand and fired five beams from the tips of its fingers. The wire fell to pieces, and Hiryu grimaced. An escape wasn’t impossible, but it would take a little more work.
He backed off as the Bear readjusted and fired a second time. Hiryu flipped backwards away from the attack, planting one hand and using Falchion as best as he could to reflect whatever he could back at the target. It was relentless in the pursuit, however, and he was forced to spin away when he landed back on his feet. The beams subsided momentarily, but he was too far away to launch any kind of counterattack in time.
“Kain, knock the Bear down,” Hiryu said, adjusting his earpiece.
“It’s as good as done!” Kain responded. A moment later, the familiar sound of a rocket launch came from the rooftop where he and Sheena had laid low, waiting for Hiryu’s arrival. They had seen the wire go slack, and prepared to aid their friend when called upon. As usual, they came through.
It was a direct hit, although Hiryu had to cover his eyes from the blast. The White Bear creaked and groaned before falling over with a spectacular crash. Hiryu walked over to the weapon as it tried in vain to raise its remaining weapon one last time, watching it flicker before the whole machine shut down for good.
He stood over the Bear silently, checking for any hidden surprises. When he was satisfied, he walked over to the building where Sheena and Kain awaited him on the rooftop. Jokingly, they let a part of the wire down to the ground for him.
“No, thanks, I’ll walk,” Hiryu called up, planting his right foot securely on the wall before lifting his left to do the same. There was a lot of useful equipment that the Striders were able to use, but Hiryu always considered the magnetic boots to be above everything else.
Kain extended a hand down to Hiryu as the young Strider reached the roof, and they shook hands before the older man took the liberty of brushing the snow from the younger one’s hair.
“Let me see… Job well done, right, Hiryu?” Kain asked, smiling expectantly.
“I never get anything less from you two,” Hiryu answered, stealing a glance at Sheena.
“Then let’s get a move on, gentlemen,” Sheena wryly interjected, shivering from the cold, “Headquarters is a lot warmer than this place.”
“Good idea,” Hiryu said, “Matic will probably want to hear how the mission went. Let’s not make him wait.”
___________________________________________________________
Agent Proto
Summary: The Adventures of Britt & BOU follows the journey of a misfit duo who go down an adventure of misfortunes and whatnot, based on the members of Eyes on Final Fantasy.
Theme: Comedy
Once upon a time, well not really in a far away place, but in a small town in the state of Wisconsin, there was a young man. This young man isn't just your average normal person; he was something more special. His parents knew at the very moment of his birth that he was going to be something special, but they had no idea how special he was going to be. They had no idea he was a descendent of a famous warrior who happened to possess the powers of a red mage.
Who was this boy and why was he that special? Well, this young man was named Britt Kaye. Britt wasn't just your normal teen. As noted earlier, he was a descendant of a well-known warrior, one who possessed the powers of a red mage, and somehow, he managed to also possess the same powers, but he does not know about it. Britt may look like your average teen. He's quite tall; when in reality, he was 5'11" in height. His eyes are bold steel blue, which make it look like he is some possessed demon in the form of a human. His hair is blue. Nothing unusual about that except that he's the only person around the block to have natural blue hair.
One afternoon on a bright sunny day, Britt was outside enjoying life altogether. It was windy, which was quite normal in Wisconsin. It was also pretty cold, but Britt is used to the coldness, such as was his red mage ancestor. He was taking a stroll along the walk near the pond. Everything went find and nothing went wrong. It was all cool. Suddenly it happened. He was knocked out, and everything went blank.
What happened after is not real important.
Elsewhere, in a small time town in California, there was this teen. He is Mexican. He isn't just any Mexican; he's a Mexican who happen to can't speak any Spanish. That is a real shame, because he doesn't happen to live in Mexico, and he has been around English speaking Americans for so long. He was a big guy for his age. Well, not so big in fact, he just looks heavy for a guy his age, and there was really nothing wrong with that. Or is there? Well it didn't matter to him. He is himself, and that's all that really counts? Well, what is so special about this person, and why will he be part of the main cast of this story? Well, it wouldn't be fair if the narrator told you, so it is best to be untold. His name is Mike, Mike Gonzales. Mike had a nickname, and that was BOU. BOU stood for Break-Out Unit, but in Mike's case, it didn't. To Mike, BOU was him, and he was BOU, so we'll just call him BOU from now on.
Around the same time Britt was knocked out, BOU was hanging out at the mall in Ontario. He was with his friends. His friends don't call him BOU, they call him, "Mike", "That person", "That dirty Mexican", "Mike-a-licious", or "Whatever your name is." Well it doesn't matter what they call him, what matters most is that BOU was hanging out with them.
They were at the mall, eating at the Food Court. BOU was eating a taco, and his friends, were eating other tacos or burritos or hamburgers, whatever they were able to afford. They were having a conversation on one topic. What that topic is, doesn't matter. Everyone was having their own fun, while BOU was munching on his taco. Then it happened, the same exact thing that happened to Britt at that same moment. He was knocked out, and everything went blank.
What happened after is not real important.
Seconds passed by, these seconds into minutes. The minutes passed and turned into hours, and the hours turn into days. Four days, two hours, and forty-two minutes exactly passed when Britt and BOU finally woke up. They were in the same room together. Both were in shock, and were even surprised to be awoken with a complete stranger in the same room. Both looked around the room. It wasn't a large room. There was no windows, no furniture, the walls were closing in on them, or so BOU thought. The only thing this room has was a locked door to the south and there was an open hatch on the ceiling. This room is also blue in color. In fact, it is completely blue. The walls are blue, the floor was blue, the door was blue, and yes, the ceiling was also blue. This freaked out the two. Britt was the first of the two to speak. "Where are we?" Said Britt in a scared tone.
"I have no idea." Answered BOU.
There was silence. Complete silence. Britt and BOU stared at each other. Were they going crazy? Are they going to die, alone together? Was this the beginning of something new? BOU doesn't want to find out, nor does Britt. It was still silent. Suddenly, the door was opened.
#
The door opened. A dark figure was at the door. It looked male to Britt and BOU. The person was tall, thin, and wore a hooded coat. The person then said, "Welcome Britt Kaye and Michael Gonzales."
Britt was shocked the person knew his name. So was BOU. They both were scared to even bother thinking about it. The figure entered the room and it was finally revealed that it was indeed a male, who happened to be tall, thin, and even wore a hooded coat, which was dark in color. It covered his face, so Britt and BOU could not figure out a way to see who it was. "Welcome to your new home." The hooded man said.
Britt and BOU looked at each other quizzically, and then to the hooded man. Britt spoke out. "Who are you and how did you know our names?"
The hooded man laughed. It wasn't a wicked laugh, nor was it evil. It was a friendly laugh, and it made BOU at ease when he heard him laugh. Then he stopped, and smiled. "My name is not all important, and how I knew your names is none of your business."
"Then why are we here?" Britt asked.
"Why are we the only two here?" BOU asked as well.
"Might as well confess," the hooded man said as he smiled. Shortly he pulled his hood back and revealed himself. He isn't a young man as earlier thought. He isn't even old. He looks middle aged, a bit drunk, and is thought to be Canadian. Fortunately, it turned out that the hooded man is Canadian. He smiled again with ease, and then said, "My name is Bleys Maynard. I am the Wildstar from the cold wilderness known as Halifax."
"Halifax..." Britt said as he pondered for a second. "Isn't that in Canada?"
"Yes, it is from Canada... you.... Well, that doesn't matter. Canadian beer is way much better than American beer. Especially that Corona piss crap!" Bleys muttered.
"Ok..." BOU said.
"Anyways, before I got carried off, I chose you two personally because both of you are special in your own special, unique way." Bleys said.
"What special, unique way?" Britt asked.
"Well you Britt," Bleys said. "You are the twentieth descendant of a magnificent red mage named Rolf Brimstone, and you also happen to possess his strength, which you don't happen to know, until now. That is why you have natural blue hair and no one else, because Rolf had natural blue hair. Even though he was supposed to have red hair. He is special, just like you."
"So, you're saying that I'm Rolf's Great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-
*gasp* great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson?" Britt asked.
"Well, you are the twentieth generation of the Brimstone ancestry." Bleys noted.
"Oh, I see." Britt said.
"What about me?" BOU asked.
"BOU," Bleys said, as he frowned a bit. "You're just a crazy Mexican."
"A WHAT?!?!" BOU shouted in disapproval.
"Yes, I'm afraid so." Bleys said, shaking his head.
"Then why the friggin' hell did you pick me?" BOU demanded to know.
"Well, I needed someone to accompany Britt in his journey, and well, I chose you." Bleys said as he smiled.
"This is insane." BOU said.
"Hey, it's not so bad BOU." Bleys said. "You get to use cool weapons that I provide and you can meet hot chicks on the way."
BOU smiled instantly. "I like the sound of this already."
"Excellent." Bleys said as he smiled grimly.
"What's with the grim smile?" Britt asked, in concern.
"I always smile like this." Bleys said, still grimly smiling. "Well, we'll meet again next time."
Bleys left the blue room, and immediately closed and locked the door on his way out.
So it was now known that Britt and BOU were going to be on some journey that this Bleys Maynard person setted up. But it was basically a journey for Britt Kaye. BOU was only hired to tag along his journey. BOU was disappointed about that fact, but knowing that they will use cool weapons that he provides and get to meet hot chicks on the way, that made BOU a bit more at ease with going with Britt.
Britt, however, was unsure about his journey, and about what he was told about being the descendant of a red mage named Rolf Brimstone. 'What kind of a name for a red mage was Rolf Brimstone' was the only thing that is on his mind. It bothered him greatly. But knowing he, himself, was also a red mage, kicked lots of ass. In fact, it rocked his world.
Hours passed. To the two, the hours seemed like days, and the days seem like they went forever. Why is that? Why, could it be that there is no clock in the room? Neither of the two had no complete sense of time, so the seconds that passed seemed like minutes, and the minutes seem liked hours, and the hours seem like days, and so on. It was also lonely. It was not just lonely... it was crazily lonely; madly lonely; insanely lonely; and BOU was the only person in the blue room to at least gone mad in the room, crazy enough to bang his head on the wall. He banged the wall so hard several times before finally coming to a concluding that it wouldn't solve anything. So he stopped, and sighed. "Bugger, this is insane." He said to Britt.
"You got that correct." Britt said. "I'm the twentieth descendant of a great red mage, and I'm going on a journey."
"Well, don't look so glum, mate." BOU said. "At least you got me by your side."
"Yeah..." Britt said. "Was it destiny that we are to meet and travel together?"
"Guess so." BOU said. "I really, kinda, sorta, hopefully, maybe, quite like that Bleys fellow. But I had no friggin' clue that he only got me to go with you. What kind of a person is that? I'm nothing compared to you. I'm just a 'crazy Mexican.'"
"Prove him wrong."
"You know, that sounds like a good plan." BOU said.
Then there was silence. Britt and BOU glanced at each other, then at the doorknob. Was it turning? Was it not? Both were beginning to sweat and were becoming nervous. Many things were going in BOU's head. One would be 'Is Death coming after me?', another is 'That better be a hot slave chick.'. However, on Britt's mind, he is actually pretty anxious to find out what is going on. Suddenly, the knob turn and the door opened. It was Bleys Maynard. "So, are you two ready for your first adventure?" He asked.
"About time we got something new to do." BOU said.
"Yeah, me too." Britt said, as he smiled.
"Excellent." Bleys said, as he began to prepare. "Well, it looks like I got you both ready. Britt Kaye, as the twentieth descendant of the great red mage named Rolf Brimstone, and Mike Gonzales, also known as BOW-"
"Yeesh... Get it correct." BOU said. "It's BOU."
"Fine, BOU." Bleys said correcting himself. "I have gotten yourselves your first journey. So, here's the journey."
Bleys Maynard went on his way to describe the first journey of Britt and BOU. He described the dangers that will be in the way, and he also told them of the enemies they might encounter. Some include encountering the police, the SWAT team, and the FBI. Why would any government officials be after them? Only Bleys know.
"Wait wait...." BOU said interrupting Bleys. "You want us to recover a special gem in the New York Museum?"
"Yes." Bleys comfirmed. "That is the special Brimstone Gem that enables Britt to use his special powers. The red stone is located in New York City Museum."
"You want us to steal it?" BOU said in shock.
"Not stealing it." Bleys said. "I prefer to call it, returning it to its rightful owner."
Britt was astonished to know such a thing, and then he asked. "So, this Brimstone Gem is the key to my powers?"
"Exactly Britt." Bleys said as he smiled. "I want you two to get that gem and give it to me, so I could enhance it so Britt could be able to use his powers."
"Seems simple." Britt said.
"Yeah, but you gotta be careful. The Museum has a heavy security and nothing can get through it." BOU said in caution.
"Not everything." Bleys said. "For I have a plan..."
What this plan is, Britt and BOU are unaware of. Nor will they know unless Bleys will tell them. Unfortunately for them, that's what Bleys in unable to do at the current moment. Bleys smiled grimly, like always. Then he said in his calm and soothing voice, "Well, we'll meet again... later. I'll get you two prepared to start this first journey immediately."
#
So, now it has been told that Britt and BOU were to retrieve a special gem called the Brimstone Gem that Britt could be able to use to enable him to use his special powers. How they are going to get it is unknown at the moment. Just thinking about being on the wanted list for stealing such a valuable stone in a museum freaked them out. But on the plus side, Britt could use his powers, and BOU would be able to use cool weapons that Bleys will provide, seeing that is one of the two main reasons why BOU is agreeing to come along, other than for the hot chicks he might meet. Night has passed, but seeing that in the blue room, nothing happened, except complete boredom.
This is their new home, or so Bleys told them. It wasn't much of a place, a single light bulb on the ceiling, no light switch, no windows, a locked door, and an open hatch on the corner of the ceiling to the east. Escaping rarely crossed their minds. But BOU, he wanted to get out; he is starting to lose his mind. Everything was starting to go mad. The walls were starting to close on him. He looked around nervously. He wanted to scream out in agony. Then it happened.
Britt smacked some sense into him. "Snap out of it!" Britt said in a stern, yet calm voice. "We still have a mission to do."
BOU sighed. "This is insane! I need to get out of here."
"No need..." Britt said. "Besides, I might need your assistance."
"Are you planning to escape?" BOU said in anticipation.
"Nope." Britt said as he smiled. "Never really crossed my mind, and I'm actually looking forward to this journey. I might enjoy it."
"Well, as long as we use cool weapons and meet hot chicks." BOU said as he smiled. "I'm fine by that."
The door opened on them. It was Bleys Maynard, yet again. "Alright you two. We're all set."
BOU jumped up and down, all excitedly, and shouted, "YES!! We're free!!!"
"Nope, you're not free." Bleys said as he smiled grimly, as usual. "You're going to New York!"
"So, we're going to retrieve that gem I suppose?" Britt asked.
"Yes, I suppose that's what I want." Bleys said, as he thought about it. "In fact, that is what I want."
"So...." BOU said. "You can give it to Britt?"
"Yes."
"Well, that seems cool, I guess." Britt said, as he smiled. "I'm looking forward to this."
"Excellent." Bleys said.
"So how are we going to get to New York from this place?" BOU asked.
"You'll see." Bleys said as he smiled grimly.
"I don't like the feeling of this..." BOU said, as he is disappointed.
"Follow me." Bleys said as he left the blue room.
Britt and BOU stared at each other. They shrugged it off, and began to follow Bleys into the hallways. While following, they entered a blue hallway. The walls were blue; the doors were also blue. There was a complete total of a whopping five doors. Each door leading to a completely different, yet separate blue room. Each door was numbered. The room they left was number 42. Something about that made BOU feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But that did not really matter to Britt, or Bleys. The two continued to follow him, until they were lead outside.
It was cold. Not only was it cold, it seemed like they were brought to Canada. Bleys smiled at them, and pointed to his left. "That is what you are taking to go to New York."
"In that piece of crap of an automobile?" BOU muttered.
"Not only is a piece of crap of an automobile, it happened to be the 1982 GMC van that the A-Team used that Mr. T has driven himself." Bleys said. "As Mr. T once said about the van, 'It's one hella fast van.'"
"So, I supposed we're taking that with us?" Britt asked.
"Any cool weapons?" BOU asked.
#
So, here they are, outside in nowhere, Canada. It was cold, freaking cold, or so to BOU it was. Britt, however, was pretty comfortable in the cold weather. He's used to the coldness. Bleys was too. BOU however, was not. So here they are. In the middle of nowhere, in front of some building that they just left, and stayed for a total of three days. They were also standing near the genuine 1982 GMC Van used by the A-Team. Bleys smiled grimly, like always. "Yes... there are some cool weapons." He said.
"Great!" BOU said.
"Yes." Bleys said. "All your weapons are in the van. I have updated the van, so it may enhance the experience of driving one of these babies."
BOU went over to the van, opened the side door, and took a look inside. He was shocked. There were many high-tech gadgets and computers and other things. One thing in particular surprised him. It gave him a fuzzy feeling inside. "Cool poster!"
"Yes, I thought you might like it." Bleys said.
"Who is it?" BOU asked, eagerly ready to know.
"Oh, it's a poster of your mom when she was 17." Bleys said as he quietly laughed to himself.
BOU's eyes were wide open, and he dropped his jaw. "My mom!?"
"Wait, I lied." Bleys said.
Britt snickered. BOU wasn't so happy about it, but he quickly got over it. Then he went on to ask about the equipment. Bleys told him what exactly the equipment does. Bleys went in and pointed to an object that quite resembles an old supercomputer. "This here is the supercomputer. I named it 'happypeepeehead' because there is this funny sticker of a smiley that looks like it has been pissed on." Bleys said as he pointed at the sticker near the top of the supercomputer. "The primary function of happypeepeehead is to contact me or find out about any new journeys you and Britt will go on."
BOU smiled. Bleys then pointed to a desktop chair. "This is the ultimate chair of DOOM."
Britt popped inside the van. He was impressed, and knowing he came in when Bleys introduce the ultimate chair of DOOM, he had the dignity to ask something. "What's with the name?"
"I thought it sounded good." Bleys responded.
BOU then pointed to a red button on happypeepeehead. "Hey, what's this red button do?"
Bleys was shocked, and moved BOU's finger away. "Never push that button. It's only for emergencies..."
"Such as...?"
"You'll know when you need to use it." Bleys answered.
Bleys then moved to the back of the van. The back was filled with interesting weapons, which range from ancient battle-axes, rocket launchers, flamethrowers, a giant sword, to handguns. There were a variety of weapons to choose from. Bleys picked up a small yellow gun that looked like a water squirter. "This is the 'Phase induced Particle Beam Rifle'." Bleys said. "Don't let the size fool you."
"What kind of a weapon is this?!" BOU said in a quizzical manner.
"Don't worry about it BOU." Britt said. "I just want to use a cool sword."
"Just your lucky day Britt." Bleys said as he whipped out a really thick sword.
"What, a Buster Sword?!" Britt said.
"Yes, a Buster Sword." Bleys said. "The same kind Cloud Strife used in Final Fantasy VII."
Britt was speechless; he took the sword and immediately had no idea what to do with it. "Thanks, but it's a little too big for me."
"Oh in that case, I got a miniature version." Bleys said as he grabbed a smalled Buster Sword. "Here, use this instead. It's just as good as the original sized Buster Sword."
"At least this isn't as heavy as the other one." Britt said as he smiled.
"Well, I glad you like it." Bleys said. "Well, it looks like your time is running short. You two better get to New York City to get that Brimstone Gem."
"Oh right, we almost forgot about that." BOU said.
Britt, BOU, and Bleys all nodded as Bleys went to exit the van. When he left, he closed the side door, and left the two to themselves. Britt and BOU stared at each other and shrugged. It looks like neither of the two knew how to drive. "Hey Britt, you know how to drive this piece of junk?" BOU asked.
Britt shook his head. "Do you?"
"No." BOU answered.
This is pathetic. Even for the two of them. Both knew nothing of driving, nor do they know how to operate an antique vehicle such as this. Things were getting gloomy for the two. Then it happened. They heard the vehicle start up on its own. Both were shocked at this. Then they heard a voice. It sounded robotic. Could it be the van is intelligent? They were to find out. "Where to folks?" It asked.
Britt and BOU looked at each other, and both shrugged it off. Britt then asked, "You can talk?"
"Of course I can." The voice said. "My name is Linus. Nice to meet you."
So now it was known to them that the van had a name, and out of all the names it could possibly have, it was named Linus. 'What a stupid name for a van.' BOU thought to himself. Of course, he was only person to think that. Britt, however, is amazed of the van's intelligence. "Ok Linus, we're going to New York City. Know how to get there?"
"Sure do." Linus responded in a cheerful voice.
"Linus sounds like a wuss." BOU stated.
"Shut up you dirty Mexican." Linus said.
BOU sniffed, and he felt hurt. He was already making enemies with a smart aleck, talking van named Linus. Britt said to Linus. "That wasn't nice."
"Sorry."
"So, can you take us to New York City?' Britt asked.
"Sure do."
"Great, let's go then." Britt and BOU said together.
So then the van went off to the sunset, and left Bleys, the building, and the cold wilderness known as Halifax. They were off to New York City. How long it will take to get there? They had no idea. Hopefully, Linus knows a quick route to get there.
#
During the days riding in 1982 GMC Van named Linus, Britt and BOU were planning on what to do when they reach New York City. It was taking a long time for Linus to get there, mainly because they have gotten into every single traffic jam in the highways. Even so, Britt and BOU weren't really bored as they thought they would be. Both were playing a friendly game of Poker. BOU looked into his cards, he had a pretty good hand. Britt looked at his set of cards. It was ever more good. BOU smiled, and then he put his cards down and said, "Read em and sweep. I got the Ultimate Hand."
Britt laughed. "That's only a pair of 3's" He took down his cards, showing a Royal Flush. "Royal Flush. I win."
"Cheater...." BOU muttered.
"Destination New York City." Linus said.
Britt and BOU stopped, got up and looked around. "Wow, looks kinda. Crowded." BOU said.
"Yea," Britt said in agreement. "Hey Linus, know where the New York City Museum is?"
"Well, actually, I can get there in a jiffy if you like."
"Sounds good to me." Britt said.
So in that instant, Linus had to drive to the side and stopped. "What's going on?" Britt asked.
Immediately, the van's wheels all turned inward. The van than grew wings, and suddenly, the van was transformed into a mini jet, kinda like how Transformers transform into a jet from a van, except, it took longer for this to happen, and everyone watched in awe as the now jet flew off the ground. A little boy in a nearby van looked in awe at it from inside his parents on van. "Daddy? Why can't we get one of those vans instead?"
So here they are, Britt and BOU in a flying van named Linus. They both looked the window of the van and looked down. BOU was amused seeing the tiny cars being in traffic. Getting to the museum will be a piece of cake for them. Britt, on the other hand, was plotting a plan of what they would do when they get there. One possibility is coming in from the rooftop, coming down on a super strong thin wire that was used in Mission: Impossible and coming down as quietly as possible without being notice. Another option was coming in as visitors, and stay after closing time, and try to sneak around looking for the Brimstone Gem. Either way, they might get screwed. Britt shrugged.
He went over to the supercomputer named Happypeepeehead and tried to contact Bleys. He sent a message: 'Help' within seconds, a message popped up. 'Hello there. My name is BleysBot. What is yours?'
Britt was now confused. 'Bleys has a chatbot?' He thought to himself. It didn't matter to him, because he just wanted help. 'I'm Britt. Can you get Bleys for us?'
'I'm sorry; I'm just a series of electronic waves meant to communicate with human clients. How may I be of any assistance?'
'Look, we just need to know what to do.'
'Where do you need to know?'
'We need to know what to do.'
'What do you want to do?'
'How the hell am I supposed to know?'
'Well, why are you asking me?'
'I can't be bothered with a stupid chatbot. I need to see Bleys!'
'My name is BleysBot, Bleys created me just yesterday for things like this.'
'He did?'
'Yes. In fact.'
'What are you?'
'I think I'm a she. I have long hair and I am wearing a dress. What do you think?'
'Why the hell are you this?'
"Because you asked me.'
'Look, I need to speak to Bleys.'
'Why don't you call him?'
'Good idea... But I don't know his number.'
'Neither do I.'
'This is great.'
'Thanks for the compliment, I will tell Bleys Britt said: This is great.'
'Shut up!'
'Are you being rude to me?'
'I think I am. What do you think?'
'That question is too complicated for me. I think you should use simpler words.'
'Shut up!!!!!!!!!'
'Are you being rude to me?'
'YES!!! YOU WON'T SHUT UP AND I NEED TO SEE BLEYS!!!!!!!!!'
'Geesh. I'll get Bleys for you.'
'Thank you.'
'You are welcomed.'
'So, is this Bleys?'
'No, my name is BleysBot.'
Britt decided to give up. He couldn't get Bleys and this annoying chatbot named BleysBot is just too much for him to handle.
#
Well, it had been months since the latest incident, and no one really knows what was going on. The world was very different now. The talking van that can transform was named Linus. The blue haired boy from Wisconsin with the powers of a mage of some sort is Britt, and then there was a confused Mexican who is called BOU.
The three of them (Well, actually two; Linus doesn't count.) were hired by Bleys Maynard to go on crazy adventures. Their first was failed pretty badly. No one knows what has happened, for it wasn't even recorded in the short history of the story. In fact, it was practically ignored. Totally ignored. No one even recalled any flying van that was once owned by Mr. T. No one recalled this so call 'BleysBot' that Britt encountered, and no one seemed to remember that Bleys once pissed in a kitty litter (Well, that was a lie. Everyone knows that!) So let's all presume that they are in a small rural town in the unexisting state of Idaho.
Britt woke up from a long sleep. His eyes weren't focused yet, so everything seemed to be blurred. Once it seemed to focus, he noticed a different scene then where he was last seen. He remembered being in a van of some sort with much technologically advanced equipment. All that, gone. He doesn't recognize where he was. It seemed to be some valley. He can see the mountains far away in the clear sky. It wasn't as smogged as he had hoped. He looked around his surrounding, and he spotted his companion. BOU was laying down, arms spread wide, and it looked as if he was knocked down drunk while in some fight with a super pissed off girl named Phoenix, which didn't actually happened, but it seemed like something he would do if he had gotten drunk.
Britt shook his head. He couldn't believe that BOU and him are in some other location. He couldn't believe it. He then got himself up and stretched his arms out, something that he had not done in a while. Shortly, he walks over to BOU, who was still lying down. He noticed that there was a slight smile on his face. Britt wondered what he was dreaming about. He imagined it'd be something about some girl that he met on the Internet. Britt had a devious plan. He kicked BOU in the shins.
"Wake up!" Britt shouted with an 'evail' look on his face.
This had startled BOU a bit. BOU kicked around and said to Britt, "I don't want to go to school mom. I'm sick."
Britt kicked him again. "BOU! I'm not your mother. This is Britt! Wake up!!"
BOU finally opened his eyes, and looked around. He then recognizes Britt, but he doesn't recognize the scene. He then asked, "Where are we?"
"Looks like hell." Britt answered.
BOU looked around, and then he nodded. "Sure does." He said in agreement. "Any idea where we are?"
"Well, I don't know." Britt said.
Then shortly, they encountered a flock of sheep. This was strange. Why would there be a flock of sheep? Well, they soon found out. There was young man who was herding the sheep. He noticed the two standing around on his field. "Hey, why are you two here?" He asked.
Britt and BOU were both confuzzled. Both looked at each other, than at the young man. Britt then responded, "We don't know."
"Do you know where we are?" BOU then proceeded to ask.
The young man laughed. "Oh, that's a riot. You both are in Idaho."
Britt gasped. BOU gasped as well. Britt stared at BOU. BOU stared at Britt. They both knew this wasn't good. Britt stared at the young man. BOU stared at the young man. Both gasped again. "I-da-ho?!!!?!" Both asked in unison in pure confusion.
The young man nodded.
This is not good, definitely not good. Britt and BOU both knew that Idaho does not exist, but here they are, in Idaho. This means, they don't exist. This couldn't be...
#
Last time on the Adventures of Britt and BOU: Our heroes seemed to be in the state of Idaho, which is known by the two to not exist at all. How did they got there, they will never know. Will they ever find Linus? Will they find a way back home? Will BOU finally find the secret to cheesecake? Does Idaho really exist? When will 'The Writer's Corner' be recognized? Will Proto ever become an Administrator? What's the point to these questions? The answers lie within this story. Well, not all of them. Ok, so the author lied.
"Damn right I did!" Proto said.
I thought so.
"Quit it!" Proto shouted at the narrator.
But the narrator ignored Proto, and this had caused Proto many problems. Especially since the narrator was being childish.
"That's is narrator!" Proto said to the narrator. "No more narrating for you. I'm taking over!"
Fine... So the narrator left, and Proto took over. *insert Proto as narrator*
Britt and BOU stared at the young man. The young man looked back at them. Britt thought he had recognized the young man, but he gave a closer look at him. Something about this fellow reminded him of someone he knew. It looked like a WesLY that he knew before.
Who is this WesLY? Well, WesLY, is actually a Master of Time who Britt had befriended back in the days, long dirty blonde hair, regularly wearing long robes, claiming that it was traditional mage-wear, when actually it's really a bathroom robe. WesLY had brown eyes and often called himself Raistlin, which wasn't his name at all. His name is really Wesley, but Britt called him WesLY because he liked how it sounded, wasn’t much different from Wesley, but it looked better to the eyes when he read it. To this very day, he still called him WesLY. This pissed off WesLY, and Britt found it amusing.
BOU looked Britt, and whispered to him, "psst. Why are you giving him that look?"
Britt leaned towards BOU, and whispered back, "He looks like that WesLY fellow."
BOU looked at the young man, who was staring at them. He whispered back to Britt, "You're right. He does."
"What's the matter with you two?" The stranger asked.
"Are you WesLY?" Britt asked.
This pissed off the young man. Blasted, this stupid hick farmboy costume didn't tricked them. WesLY thought to himself, in utter disgust. "Dammit, you know I hate being called WesLY."
"Y'know.." BOU said, "I kinda like it. It's fun teasing you."
"WesLY!" Britt said, as he walked closer to him, "Where are we?"
"I already told you," WesLY said. "Idaho."
WesLy knew he was lying to them. He knew that they know that he lied. But, he doesn't care. He wants them off his case. "We're in Idaho."
"No we're not!" BOU shouted, grabbing WesLY by his overalls. " Don't lie to us! We all know Idaho doesn't exist!"
"Put me down...." WesLY cried out in terror, trying to free himself from BOU's grasp.
"Aw..." BOU said, as he put WesLY down.
"Thanks BOU,” WesLy said, just as he was being hugged by BOU.
BOU then confessed to WesLY, "I love you WesLY!"
WesLY, was just shocked to know this, and slowly, but surely, said to BOU. " I... love... you... too."
BOU stopped being friendly, and stared sternly at him. " Don't lie to me."
Britt found this humorous. " Quit it, you two. You're making me look bad."
Well, maybe that's the main reason why BOU and WesLY acted like they acted to piss off Britt. Too bad for them, it didn't worked. But they didn't care.
"So, are we still in Idaho?" BOU asked.
"Nah, I lied." WesLY confessed.
"You're an evil man WesLY." Britt said, with a smirk on his face.
"It's Raistlin!" WesLY said.
"No, you're WesLY." BOU confirmed.
"Whatever..."
"No seriously," BOU said, as he prepared to give a long lecture. "Remember that one time when we had a discussion about your name?"
WesLY shook his head no. "I don't remember seeing you before."
"Well, I remember you WesLY!" BOU quietly said. "It was back in the late 90's, we were playing strip poker at the time, and you mentioned something about calling yourself Raistlin, and then I countered and said that you can't. So we got into a long, straightforward conversation about what to call you. You had some good pros about being called Raistlin, but I quickly attacked and gave all the bad, negative cons to it, and all the good stuffs about being called WesLY. It was a riot! Then, Kalen interrupted and stole the remaining cheesecake in your fridge. Ah... now those were the good days."
"I don't ever recall that ever occurring," WesLY said.
"But, I still won that argument!" BOU said proudly.
"Yeah... whatever," WesLY said in distaste. "So, what brings you here in Palanthas?"
"Palanthas?" Britt asked with extreme interest.
"Yeah, sure," WesLY said.
"Rawk out," BOU said in approval.
#
In a world, lost and found
Our heroes had lost all hope;
Till one day when fate was abound,
Britt made sure that he was no dope.
In a world full of despair;
Sleeping silently during the day,
Our heroes hope, they found it over there;
All wasn't gone, until we all say;
"Whatever the point to this, there was none,
Whatever hope our heroes had, all was gone."
Britt and BOU were made that day,
When they met this guy name Bleys;
Happily ever after, the word was nay,
They all have been lost in time and days;
Bleys had sent them on a very long quest,
New York City, they once have went,
To get Bleys the diamond that he request;
Only to find out, their life was all bent;
The van was lost, and so were they,
No one found them, until that one day.
A young man was herding sheep,
He went afar with his sheep, only to find a prize;
Britt and BOU, he did find to be asleep,
He had them awoke, only to give them a surprise;
They asked him where they are,
He told them at the state of Idaho;
They disbelieved him because that was afar,
And both Britt and BOU shouted, "NO!"
Why at Idaho, they didn't know,
Now let's all make fun of Agent Proto.
Headquarters
Bleys was at his usual antiques at the headquarters. He somewhat missed the two he had sent to retrieve a diamond he had requested from them, but he hasn't heard word from them. Instead of investigating their disappearance, he was happily inside his room drunk as hell. After taking his fifteenth shot of his favorite kind of alcohol, the Canadian homegrown kind, he passed out on the floor. Hours later, his assistant found him on the floor doing something no one thought he would have done. He actually was found with piles of papers around him. There were books as well. It looked kind of important, and no one expected he would actually research while being drunk. His assistant came up to him and tried to wake him up from his slumber. "Wake up master Maynard." The servant said to Bleys.
Bleys, after being constantly bothered by his servant, finally woke up. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were very baggy, as if he had a major hangover after a night of partying, but instead of partying, he was actually studying, but under the influence of Canadian alcohol. Bleys' vision was blurred and he looked around his surrounding, only to see an unrecognizable figure standing by him. He was confused as to who it was. "What the bloody fuck?!" Bleys shouted as he fell to the floor. "Intruder!!"
His servant, nervously said, "Eh... no.... I'm not an intruder! It's just me. Thanos."
"Oh, Thanos, is that you?" Bleys asked, while he searched for his pair of glasses.
"Yes, it's me." Thanos responded.
"Why, you crazy Frenchie," Bleys joked, "You scared the fuckin' hell outta me. I thought I was being intruded."
"Why, no sir." Thanos said, "I just came to see how you were doing. I noticed you were doing some research last night. How would you call that pile of papers on your desk?"
"I was studying?!" Bleys asked, confused again.
"Yes, it seemed like you were busy."
"I don't remember studying about anything."
"You don't?"
"No."
"That's strange." Thanos inquired, as he pondered.
"Oh.... I was drunk, so maybe that's why I don' remember anything." Bleys said as he laughed when he noticed his trash bin was full of empty beer bottles.
Just then, the phone rang. This startled both Bleys and Thanos. No one rings them as of lately. Who could it be?
Thanos answered the phone. "This is Bastardly Institution, how may I be an assistance?"
"Yes, I want to speak with Bleys..." The other end answered. "...or else."
"Or else what?" Thanos asked.
"Thou art some fool, I am loath to beat thee if I don't get Bleys!!!"
"Fine, as you wish." Thanos said as he handed the phone over to Bleys. "It's for you."
Bleys took the phone and stared at Thanos strangely. "Well, it better be nice." He said to his servant, as he proceeded to greet the called. "Bleys, speaking."
"Bleys!!" The voice shouted out loud, "How's it going, it's me Spatvark."
"Ahh!" Bleys said as he recognized the voice of his good friend, Gerald Q. Spatvark, "So if it isn't my friend Gerald Q. Spatvark."
"Thou haughty ill-breeding haggard!" Spatvark exclaimed on the phone. "Don't even call me that again or I'll bloody hurt you like I did with your hamsters."
"I never had hamsters." Bleys noted.
"You did too!" Spatvark argued. "And I killed them buggers too!"
"That's nice to know Spatvark."
"Well, isn't it?" Spatvark said. "Well, have you heard the news lately? Seemed like your two adventurers were found in a dairy farm down in upstate Montana."
"What the bloody hell are they doing in Montana?" Bleys asked, wanting to know.
"I have no idea, but they were found in some abandoned house, and both claimed that someone by the name of Wesley had trapped them in the building."
"Wesley." Bleys said to himself quietly. "Don't you mean WesLY?"
"Maybe."
"I never really trusted that WesLY person. He could have killed them in the state they were in back then." Bleys said. "Well, I've been supposedly been researching something last night."
"Really? What about it?"
"I was drunk."
"Bloody awesome! I wish I could do the same thing when I'm drunk, but I tend to do something stupid, like squirrel fishing in the nude outside with the temperatures below freezing."
"...."
"Poor squirrels."
"Anyways," Bleys said as he looked over the papers he had written last night. "I came up with the formula for the Quadrant of Hyperspace between Life and Death."
"Really?"
"Well, it seems like I did.... wait, no I didn't." Bleys said. "Well, it seemed I found out the exact location of where Britt and BOU might be at."
"I told you, in upper-state Montana."
"Cram it, Spatvark."
"That's disturbing, Bleys."
"I know it is. So, what were we talking about?"
"I believe we were talking about what we can do to rescue those two."
"Oh yes, now I guess I'm going to have to resort to Plan G."
"What about plans B to F?"
"They all failed."
"So what's your plan?"
Bleys then immediately went to describing Plan G to his compadre on the phone. It was a long description, but very descriptive. He explained every single detail and how he will execute the actions. He even mentioned something about an Italian prostitute being hired and carjacking an expensive vehicle and taking over a small private piloting school in the country of Ontario.
It all made some sense to Spatvark, and Bleys knows it does make sense, because he composed it.
"Tomorrow Spatvark, I'm bringing you here in Canada to visit me."
"Really!?!" Spatvark asked as he began to weep. "That's so great Bleys. I'm so happy."
"I know, me too."
"I love you Bleys."
"Don't make me send Dr. Wyllius after you, I have the money to do so."
____________________________________________________________
Strawberryman
Category: Story
The full moon waxed over the night sky, creating a source of light over all travelers crossing the roads at these dark hours... Except, that is, a small patch of cloud ominously crowding over the middle of a forest, stopping many a merchant on their way to the next town. It was a sight to behold- the blackness covering that lone forest like a plague, sucking the very light from the inside...
Of course, this was a regular occurance for the past 11 months in the country of Myridia, and many of the villagers and normal guests payed no attention to it- seeming too afraid to even step close to that accursed forest. Very little else was even making a noise... The world seemed to be taking a deep breath...
Then it seemed as if the world was ending. A massive spire of ghastly energy exploded from the middle of the forest, raining acid upon all of the close villages- destroying them without even a hint of a qualm.
Nothing was left- Except that small forest.
~
It was nearly midnight when the ceremony was almost over. All was in darkness, until Rho started to light the candles. It seemed to be anxious while it rushed around the circular room of that dark temple.
"When will you be done, Delta? The time is almost nigh." Rho spoke in a nervous hurried voice, the light now revealing it's brown robes, hiding the light from any traces of it. It's luminous red eyes were the only miniscule glimmer from it's evil shape.
"Quiet, sister. Our master will return soon enough. We must be patient."
Delta, too was shrouded in the same fashion of robes, but instead of the evil red eyes of his siblings, Delta had a more sinister green tint to his. He was kneeling in the middle of a summoning circle, making continuos motion with his hands. "We will take back this world soon enough."
It was only a minute at the most when a large distortion opened in the room, disturbing space and time in all aspects. That was when the same eruption of pure dark energy came forth from the underworld itself to destroy everything near it. It destroyed the ceiling, which had been protected with Rho's and Delta's energy spell, in a split second.
When the madness subsided, a figure stepped out from the vortex, followed by an extremly large object, that could not be seen well through the dust and debris that was piling from the ceiling.
"!@#% $#%! $%#^" the figure spoke in an odd, evil tongue, seeming that it was shouting out an order. It quickly made a sound like the clearing of ones throat, and... "WHilE yOU heArD ME! DeStROy anY suRvIvoRS of ThaT bLASt! We do NoT nEed Any inTRudErS!" The very earth trembled with the velocity of this vile creatures voice.
Delta and Rho quickly left the room before their 'Master' could end his sentence. They seemed frightened at even the very shadow of him...
And they could have sworn they heard a shrill, evil shriek come form the destroyed tower as they left the dark shrine, but they dared not look back...
-
"Gah. I hate royal stuff like this." Zeal was leaning against the wall, watching all of the royalty and rich folk of Rose city dancing across the floor. His spiked black hair rustled in the wind coming from the open windows. He was wearing his usual scruffy sorceror robes, still smelling of last nights salted pork. Among any other ball, he would have stuck out like a sore thumb, but enough of the people knew, or knew of him in some way that he did'nt bother them at all. "Just too much class. Don't see why Paladin made me come."
"Because you need a bit of social interaction between all of that training you go through." Lo and behold, Paladin was suddenly standing next to him. "Besides, this ball needs plenty of protection, and you contribute to the fray." Paladin was a wizened old man, with long gray hair and beard falling from his head, onto his white robes. He always sported his trusty stave, maybe from age, or protection, or both. He was widely respected as a protector of the peace, and had settled down in Rose City to take on students, most likely to pass on the tradition of protection. He had taken Zeal in when he was just a baby, when his mother and father had dissapeared.
"Really. You brang me here to be a bodyguard for the king. You old ass. You could've just told me." Zeal chuckled as he said this.
"Of course not. I just think that it's about time you met the king. He won't be coming out until later, though, so you have some spare time.
I suggest you at least try to dance with someone. 'Twould be a new experience for you." Paladin nudged Zeal towards the dancers.
"Paladin. You know I don't dance. It's just not..." Zeal pushed back.
"Nonsense! You just are afraid to try." Paladin softly tapped him on the head with his staff. "Now get over there."
"Fine. But just this once." Zeal walked over to a young woman standing by one of the archways, and bowed low. "May I trouble you for a dance?"
The girl smiled, and replied, "But of course!" She looked about Zeals age, and had long dark brown hair trailing down to her back. Her eyes were an astounding hazel, and had been complimented by a silver tiara set upon her head. She stepped out from the arch, and towards Zeal.
Now that zeal saw her in the light of the ballroom, he was nearly strick dumb by her beuty. He felt like melting right on the spot. But the proper etiquette that Paladin had taught him snapped into place before he ruined the moment. He took the girls hands, and she took his, and they began to dance.
All through this, Palain sat on a chair, smoking his pipe, and chuckling at the awkward situation Zeal had gotten into. He was pretty sure that Zeal was unawares that he was dancing with the princess of the castle, but Paladin just could not ruin the moment for these two. Many others had also realized this, and thought they looked the perfect couple. Dispite Zeals constant mistakes.
Nobody had noticed the shadow that had slithered into the ballroom, hiding in a black cloak. It was watching the princess and Zeal, making sure no one would see the darkness it let off. It had a job to do, one that had a specific importance to his lord.
-
"Master. Some fool is dancing with the princess. I cannot get to her without him noticing." The dark shadow that had crawled into the dance was now in a corner, avoiding all sight. "The king should come out soon. should I start with him?" It was channeling all his thought to the point at which his master lied.
"I caRe Not wHAt yOu DO As loNG as You cOmE BAcK wItH tHE pRiNCeSS! We NeEd hER, tO stARt oUr pLAn!"
"Yes master. I will not fail you." The shadow closed off thought with his master, and came back to reality. He noticed the king had finally walked into the ballroom, by means of the stage. He was standing in front of the band, and after they finished their song, he motioned for silence. Apparently he was giving a speech. The various towns people had stopped dancing, perhaps to give him a solid attention to start upon.
"Fair people of Rose City, after a long and illustrious 11 years as your king, I have some means as to perhaps..." The audience was in pure silence. The suspence was too much to have when... "Commend you, the common people of our fair city. It has not been easy to keep the peace in this fair town, and perhaps I may have been overzealous in my revenge a fair few times. You, the common folk of..." The shadow slithered towards the stage, knowing noone could possibly notice him.
"You might as well give up trying to stay in stealth. I have already noticed you." A voice echoed through his head.The shadow stopped dead in it's tracks. This was telepathic. Meaning he could'nt know who this could possibly be.
"I suggest you turn around and leave before you do anything rash. This is your last warning." The shadow did not move an inch. Could it possibly be...
"Who are you?" The shadow responded slowly, not daring to move on, yet unwilling to leave.
"I suggest you turn around to find out." This was from the outside. The shadow was shockingly thrown out of the mindlock that he was in. It slowly turned around...
"You did not heed my warning. I must know what drives you so to kill the king. This town has no reason to be a target for such attacks." Paladin was leaning against the wall, smoking solemnly. He spoke in barely a whisper, as to not attract any attention of the citizens.
"You...You should be dead!" The shadow spoke telapathically, seeming to be without a voice from shock and dismay.
"But I am not. Please tell me who your master is."
The shadow pondered for a minute. He could not let his master down. It was time to forget stealth, and just finish the job. "Not on my life,fool!"
he kicked Paladin back, and ran towards the king.
-
The shadow was running towards the king, several guards following him, trying to stop him. But to no avail. After reaching the king, he pulled out a long knife, jumped, and went for the kill.
A ball of fire came erupting from the crowd, knocking the assasin back towards the bandstands, which had been fled from by the band. The shadow stood up, and noticed the same boy who had been dancing with the princess was up on the stage, with his sword drawn. He placed his eyes on the sword, and noticed the similarities between his...
"Your sword is the 'black dream' is it not?" The assasin went into a fighting pose. "I will not hold back."
"How did you-" Zeal was cut short. the assasin made a deadly lunge, which gave Zeal only a moment to dodge. The shadow again sliced at the king, who stood frozen in fear. But Zeal kicked him out of the way once again.
The shadow was beginning to get annoyed. It was time to end this.
He placed his hands together, and started chanting in an odd language.
"@$#$ @#%$#@ #@@#$" After a few seconds, he shot a black ball of flame at the stage. After it instantly bursted into flame, he grabbed the princess, who was standing right near the exit of the room, and fled.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Doom
Category: Story
Fate of the Lonely
The night air was bitterly cold and the chilling touch of the howling wind bit through the traveller’s cloak as he stood watching, waiting, thinking.
The view of Winterborne village was beautiful, almost perfect, from the hill that overlooked it, situated within a surrounding forest and enclosed comfortably by a sheltering mountain range. The village itself was old, built centuries ago and still standing. It had originally been a lot smaller than it was now, but the timber trade had thrived and many came from all over to seek employment, leading to an expansion in housing.
The man looked about him as he stepped down onto the gravel path that ran through the village, his eyes taking in every sight and not missing a single one. A tawny owl sat perched in a tree to his right with an unblinking gaze. A leaf broke away from the branch that had held it captive, drifting and spiralling lazily to the ground. The clouds moved to obscure the hazy silver moon.
He felt a pang of heartache as he entered the settlement through gates of iron. It was two years since he had last been here, the place of his birth and childhood friendships. He had travelled long and hard to return, but he was not here for a reunion.
He had come back to Winterborne to die.
The place was now deserted, the citizens having migrated to pastures new when the climate took a turn for the worse: storms had destroyed much of the industry that had built up, and the dream became a nightmare for many. His friends were all gone, too. He was totally alone. He thought of them now, of the time they had spent together.
One image in particular appeared in his mind, that of a girl who had been exceptionally special to him. They had grown up in the village together and had experienced a deep and meaningful relationship that blossomed into an unparalleled love over the years. She was dead at this moment in time, murdered two years ago when Winterborne had been raided by a sizeable group of bandits. She had died for him, to buy him the space to escape, and he had fled like a coward instead of trying to aid her, leaving her broken and bleeding body behind him. A single tear fell from a pale blue eye as he recalled her last words: “I love you.”
She had been so pretty, he remembered, like an angel. He had a clear recollection of her appearance: long, dark hair which had been so sleek and silky to touch as it cascaded down over he shoulders and back, chocolate-brown eyes that seemed to draw you in and warm your soul, a dazzling smile that could light up even the darkest, dimmest room. He could almost see her before him, her elegant dress fluttering and flowing in the breeze as she danced gracefully in front of his eyes. He missed her so much and longed for her to be by his side once more, though he knew that this could never be. An overwhelming sense of guilt and loss welled up inside him, making him feel sick, dizzy. He was plagued by the fact that he could have helped her, and that she might have lived if it hadn’t been for his own selfishness. His dreams were haunted by visions of her form impaled on the blades of those who had slain her, or worse still, her lying face down in a pool of her own blood.
He had tried to deal with it, he had tried to remain strong, but he could no longer cope. Grief had cast a shadow over his life, a life that he could not bear to live anymore. He was gripped by a burning desire to pass on, to free himself from the chains of sorrow that now bound him. He knew the perfect place to fulfil this desire. It was why he was here.
It took every effort to remain upright as he stumbled along the empty streets. Memories hit him like a wave of nostalgia as he sighted various areas which had been important to them both. He saw the serene, peaceful waters of Crystalmir Lake where they had raced paper sailing boats as children, screaming with delight and elation. Further on was the weatherbeaten bench where they had sat and talked for hours on end. An immense tree that was rooted on the village outskirts had served as the site for their first kiss, an event that had taken place under its watchful branches. Ahead of him was the square where they had revealed their romance to the others in their social circle, and to the left of that was Winterborne Church, where they were due to marry on the day after her death. She was taken from him before the sacred ceremony could occur, and he blamed himself. His rage and self-loathing amplified then, and he began to run blindly, guided only by instinct. He was close though, he felt it.
The houses swam before his face in a blur as he hurried past them. On more than one occasion he tripped and fell in his haste, only to pick himself up and struggle on with renewed vigour. He looked forward to being reunited with her in any way possible. By the time he reached the hideaway that only they could locate, he was weak and weary. The entrance was a trapdoor in a backyard of one of the houses. They had discovered it, quite by accident, when they were teenagers, and had made it their own. It became a secondary home and retreat for the couple, and they kept it secret even from those they trusted. It was forever known as the Lover’s Den.
He descended the rope ladder that trailed from the trapdoor to the floor of the cavern, fumbling in his pocket for a box of matches. He struck one, dispelling the blackness from the room, and he smiled slightly. It was exactly as they had left it. Makeshift beds of straw mattresses lay adjacent to a wall. Roughly carved, crude furniture of his own making, including a table and chairs, littered the chamber. A dresser nestled snugly in one corner. A set of shelves had been screwed to one rocky surface, and a number of odds and ends had been placed there. The den’s primary use was that of an underground storage chamber during the Kaln Wars, but it had since been forgotten, left abandoned and empty for a period of time before it was found by two curious teens.
He lit the rose-scented candles on the table. She had provided those, and the smell relaxed him a little, enveloping him with a delicate fragrance. He grew calmer. He had accepted his fate, and it didn’t seem like such a hard thing to do now that he was finally here. He took the dagger from where it had been sheathed in his belt and held it out in front of him. It was exquisite in quality. The handle was solid gold and the hilt was set with gleaming sapphires. The blade, about six inches in length, was silver laced with intricate jade patterns. It was more a decorative item than anything else. Something on the dresser caught his eye. He retrieved it. It was a photograph of his girlfriend at her most radiant. She had given it to him as a gift, a token of her love in a unique heart-shaped frame of mahogany. The picture brought back yet more memories and with them a new wave of sickness. He vomited, on the verge of collapse. At that point, he broke down completely, his body wracked with sobs as he rocked back and forth, clutching the photo to him. This was the end. His end. He wouldn’t have to endure this pain for any longer. He hoped that she would forgive him in the afterlife. His hand shook violently and uncontrollably as he aimed the dagger at his own heart and closed his eyes.
“I love you.” He echoed his deceased sweetheart’s words as he buried the weapon up to the hilt in his chest. A cry that was more animal than human escaped his throat, raw with suffering and anguish. He fell to his knees, dagger still jutting from its unholy resting place, as his lifeblood ebbed away from him. Time appeared to freeze for a few seconds, then he hit the floor with a dull thud and lay still. His restless spirit had found the peace that it had craved for so long.
Outside, it started to rain, pattering softly against the treetops, as if the gods themselves were shedding tears of mourning for the young man who had taken his own life. The tawny owl hooted softly, spread its wings and flew away into the dead of night.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Loony Bob
Scene: Nothing but pitch black darkness.
"Um..."
"Yeah?"
"I wanna go out..."
"No."
"But.."
"NO."
"You know what happens when you get out."
"Shut up."
"You fuck up."
"Shut up! I do not! You wouldn't even KNOW!"
"Hey, don't you thi-"
"HEY! Both of you. God..."
"..."
"I don't even know why you bother."
"What did I just tell you?"
"You know he's not worth it. You can't keep him."
"BE QUIET! Shut the fuck up right now and don't you ever-"
"Ever what? What you gonna do? You want this."
"It's not like that..."
"Isn't it? Heh."
"Shut up."
"..."
"asshole"
"Right, that's it, you little fucker."
"Aaaargh! Leave me alone!"
"You wanna get out?! You'll KILL US ALL! You fucking piece of -"
*thud*
*crying*
"uuggghhh..."
"..."
"..."
"Daddy..."
"Shut. Up."
"I need to get out, Daddy, I can't be like this..."
"I told you."
"I told you..."
"Why are you here?"
"You need me. To get rid of him."
"I don't want to ge-"
"YES YOU DO."
"I DO NOT."
"..."
"So what are you gonna do? Starve the fucker?"
"J- ... just leave me alone."
"You know what? I'll do it. fuck you."
"YOU WILL NOT."
"Haha!"
"You little fucker! Stay put!"
"You can't, you idiot. Haven't I told you?"
"Haha!"
"Grrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaargh!"
"Ah!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"...what the fuck?"
"I told you."
"fuck... fucking... fuck..."
"Yeah. But I need him."
*shakes head*
"I know. But you have to understand."
"I hate him."
"I know. Just leave him to me."
"You've been to way too many Tupperware parties lately."
"I haven't been to a -"
"Yeah, but you know what I mean."
"We'll see."
*sigh*
"..."
"..."
"...Daddy..."
"Just leave him alone, fuckass."
"Shut up! fuck you!"
"Heh."
"Fucking asshole."
"..."
"..."
"...Daddy..."
"No."
"..."
"..."
"..."
*crying*
"Hey..."
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
"I want to go out. I want -"
"WE ALL FUCKING WANT HER, OKAY? SHE'S NOT COMING BACK!"
"I WANT MY MUMMY!"
*crying*
"I want her too. I want her too."
"..."
"I want her too..."
"Let's go."
"Yeah."
"Okay."
And they were gone.
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Dragon Ash (Thanks for e-mailing me and I'm very sorry for that)
Story
How unfair.
How unfair that the dreams of my lifetime should be shattered in one horrible instance. How can it be that one minute I have my whole life ahead of me and the next, it’s all gone? I wonder, as I lie here, the life flowing from me, where all these dreams will go. Will they just disappear? Like my body; stowed away under six feet of earth where people cannot be constantly reminded of what it once was?
How unfair.
I wish now that I had recorded every dream, every wish, every ambition that once held my tired soul to this world. It may not have changed my cruel fate but at least I would be remembered. My dreams would live on.
Until now I had always believed in heaven. Well maybe not the Christian version of heaven, but I had envisioned some kind of afterlife. I always thought that after you died, your spirit would travel to a new place with new people and you would suddenly become the intrepid heroine from one of your fantasies. You would be able to live out all of your dreams so that a lifetime of suffering would be amended. I think any other kind of afterlife would be hell to me. My thoughts would always linger on those dreams until my soul burnt out from the exhaustion of a lifetime of longing.
But there was no afterlife.
It was all so disgustingly clear to me now. There is no afterlife; there is no heaven; there is no God. There are no angels to guide us through the dark times in our lives; these we have to stumble through alone. From the second my life began to drain from my body, I was surrounded by the presence of an immense darkness. A huge void that exists only to swallow human souls into its vast nothingness. No ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ crap. And I realised that soon I would cease to exist.
What a strange feeling. At first there was no pain, no anger, only an empty numbness. I didn’t know how to feel, it was still hard to believe. Most people find the idea of an afterlife impossible, but to just stop existing? That was a much stranger concept to me. I tried to call out, to tell those who had gathered round me like vultures what awaited them after their time ran out. But somehow my mouth would not work. No sound escaped from my trembling lips. Maybe it’s better that they don’t know. Let them lead their pointless lives, climbing ladders which will only crumble beneath them as their souls tumble down to the void below.
If only I could have been content with this life and all it had to offer. But like so many others I have had a difficult time on this earth. I suppose I chose to lead my life this way, antagonistically attacking those around me. I created my own rain clouds then wondered why the sun never shined upon me. That’s why I always lived in my own little dream worlds, making up new characters to replace the human comfort that I lacked in the real world.
Who I am; who I was; who I could’ve been, none of that matters now. All that matters are my dreams, the part of me that the world never got to see.
I dreamt of a world with no boundaries. A world of magic and monsters; beauty and danger; love and enmity. I dreamt of friends who were as wonderful and unique as each other. I dreamt of powers, strong enough to vanquish all evils and I dreamt of a man who would die to protect me.
Things are fading now; names, faces countless memories are being swallowed by the void. It is becoming harder to picture him, his soft brown hair, his strong arms, his beautiful smile. But his eyes… they are as clear to me as ever. Eyes as blue as the ocean, their depths the key to millions of other worlds. Eyes that show no endings, only beginnings. I can feel a tear streak down my blood-stained cheek as I picture those eyes being taken by the void.
Things are happening faster now in the real world; people are shouting, crying. They are telling me “Hold on!” But in the darkness I can find no ledge to grasp onto. My breathing slows and I know the end is nearing. In my mind I am screaming, I’m not ready yet! The emptiness has surrounded me now; there’s nowhere to go.
Panicking I again try to call out to the crowd of onlookers, hoping desperately that someone can pull me back into the light. But I have no breath left to even whisper and the outside world is gone to me forever. The darkness has found its prey.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alone… Afraid… Darkness… Despair…
What is this place? Who am I? I want the light back. Light? Yes, I remember light.
There is nothing here; I see nothing, I hear nothing, I feel nothing.
But… that is untrue. There is someone else here. I sense him watching me from the darkness. Afraid to face him I try to slow my breathing, waiting for this new threat to show himself.
And then, he calls to me, softly speaking a name; my name. I finally turn to meet his gaze and find myself mesmerized by his eyes, eyes as blue as the ocean…
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Az Lionheart
Story
Who?
It all happened on a Friday evening, when I was out for a walk. To tell you the truth I’m not sure why I went out for a walk at night, maybe I was bored or maybe I was just fate. All I know that I wished id stayed home.
It was a calm Friday evening. There was a cool summer’s breeze around my feet, just as you would expect of a night in July. As I looked above into the dark night sky I saw stars shine and twinkle as if someone had put fairy lights up or sprinkled glitter across the night sky. The street was now lit up with flickering street lights which I could tell had not been changed in years. The wind began to pick up very slowly so I pulled up the zip on my new coat which I had brought a few weeks earlier.
I had only been walking about five minutes when I saw something I had never seen before. To me it looked like an old theatre which had been there for years however I had not noticed it in the 5 years I have been here. There were vines creeping up the sides weaving in and out of each other. There were large stain glass windows with designs of saints and mythical creatures on. There were many shades of colours which had become dull over time. It looked like time had not only taken its toll on the whole building. I could see gargoyles sitting along the roof that were chipped and ruined. The only thing that was not ruined was their stare…they had a piercing stare which sent a shiver down my spine. Like the Mona Lisa, where ever I went, their eyes followed. Their ominous shadows loomed over me.
As I was standing there minding my own business a small black 1970’s transit van pulled up outside the old building. It was in bad condition with dents and rust up the side.
Three hooded men stepped out of the back of the van. They were all wearing long dark robes with intricate patterns around the edges. I could also tell they had been made with a very fine velvet.
Out of the van stepped another figure. He or she too was robed however there was one difference; this figure had a large, gold medallion around their neck. Slowly they moved, drifted across the road and into the theatre.
Then I did something I knew I would regret, I followed them in. As I opened the rusted double doors, the moonlight shone in and lit all sorts of weird and wonderful objects. Yet out of everything that I saw, one item in particular caught my eye. As I slowly moved towards it, I could feel the eyes of the world staring upon me. Warning me. The closer I move, the more I could make it out. It looked like a small disc with a gem in the middle of it. The gem must have been what had caught my eye in the moonlight.
And then it hit me. This was the same medallion that the last figure to get out of the van wore around his neck. It was attached to a large golden chain, which had been snapped in two, however it could not have been broken with bare hands. I began to wonder what I had got myself into. All of a sudden I heard the noise of footsteps slowly moving away from me, heading down a long dark corridor. From what I could see the corridor had stain glass windows up one side, which told the story of Mc Beth and Romeo and Juliet.
As I followed them I began to get cold and a shivered slightly. As I progressed further into the corridor I began to get used to the cold.
My mind was on other things.
The corridor seemed to go on for an age. Every step I took all I could see was black, just black.
As I turned a corner I could just about make out the outline of the three figures I had previously seen. They were carrying something which resembled the shape of a body, and if so… who’s body? Could it be the body of the figure with the medallion? I watched them turned right into a small-secluded room. As the door slammed shut I felt the vibrations flow through my body.
I slowly put one hand on the doorknob. At that moment paralysis flew through my whole body. I could not move. Something was happening inside that room, I had to know what. I had to know what they were doing to that person. With one had on the doorknob I took my other hand out of my pocket. I was holding something. It was the medallion I found on the ground before…I must have picked it up without noticing. Did this have any great significance?
I gathered up what courage I had left and began to turn the doorknob. It creaked. As the door flew open a rush of cold air hit me. As I looked around I could see no means of escape but through me. Yet the room was empty…
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Princeofdarknez
F-8
The man entered the room somewhat dazed, and slightly angry. He had every right to be dazed, for 42 seconds earlier he was walking briskly in the rain, umbrella extended upward as a shield, to the unemployment office to receive his welfare and emotional compensation checks. (His unemployment compensation check didn't arrive until next week.) He was about halfway there, unable to decide whether to walk briskly back to his house or briskly forward to the office, when all of a sudden, a shimmering white door, in stark contrast to the dull greys of the surrounding scenery, appeared before him. He looked around for a moment. There was no one else around him; it was just him and the door. The door swung open, outward, and a stern-looking man with an equally stern voice commanded him.
"Enter, Tom," were the only two words he spoke. That was why he was angry; he hated being told what to do. However, he complied; he found the absence of rain attractive.
His pants and jacket were still soaked with rain (an umbrella can only guard so much of a man), though they had begun to dry in the warm temperature of the room he was in now. The room itself was as queer as the scepter of the door 42 seconds ago. It was a harsh, pale green, shaped like a half-sphere dome. To his left and right were two white doors, the only interruptions of the otherwise smooth and bare walls. The door behind him, Tom noticed with bewilderment, had disappeared.
Tom set his umbrella leaning against the rear dome-wall. He rubbed his grizzled, creased face - unshaven for a few days - in thought, then scratched his ever-thinning brown hair in confusion. He rubbed his dark brown eyes, then opened them again with vigor, expecting to be back outside, but he knew he wasn't before he opened his eyes because his clothes were still drying. What he did see when he reopened his eyes was the stern old man in front of him, seated upon an exquisite president's chair behind a fine oak desk. He was reclined in a relaxed position, and his feet were extended forward on the desk. He too was grizzled and old, and had an uneventful face with the exception of a grey beard and deep sockets from which his two shimmering ruby eyes shone. He was balding at the top, but bore it with a reluctant grace with the white suit he wore. The old man was smiling at Tom; he was smiling a mocking smile, as if he was laughing at Tom's utter confusion.
"Hello Tom," said the man.
"Who are you?" was his response.
"Bishop Knight. It is irrelevant, since you will not refer to me by any name."
"How do you know this?" was Tom's bewildered response.
"It is causality. The chain of events about to unfold will not result in such an action." Knight paused for a while to size up Tom, then took his feet off the desk and sat up straight in his chair.
"Causality?" asked Tom.
"Yes, causality. The very same principle that guided you here in the first place. Cause: it is raining. Effect: you are wet. Cause: you are wet. Effect: you come inside. It was predetermined."
This annoyed Tom, yet he restrained himself and instead asked: "Speaking of which, where am I?" He gestured with his hands sweepingly, as to indicate the whole room.
Knight pulled up his chair to his desk, placed his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands together. "You are in an altered reality generated by F-8, Tom." He paused to relish Tom's bewilderment. "Yes, an altered reality," he repronounced. "F-8 is a program designed to improve any individual's life through offering him or her several modes of support to combat the obstacles along his or her path, and allow that individual to continue living his or her life as normal. This is the beginning of that new, easier path. Of course, there is more to it than that, but that explanation will suffice for you."
Tom took a step backward. "My life is fine as it is," he rationalized. "The government will support me until I get a job, and then I can..." He was thinking of his estranged wife... not divorced, but not together. He would be happy with her again, if he could only...
"Do you know how long it will be until you get a job? F-8 has calculated it. 3 years, 4 months, and 15 days. The recession in civil engineering will continue for approximately 3 years before it turns around. When it does, you will go through some interviews with different companies, and your successful interview will be on February 20th, 2200."
"If this F-8 or whatever has calculated it, why not change it?" Tom demanded indignantly.
Knight recoiled, as if insulted. "We are not God, Tom. We cannot change the path we are set on, or how it winds. We must walk it to the end, no matter how it leads us to the end." He continued, more sympathetically this time: "F-8 exists solely for the purpose of helping the individual along his path by offering him support..."
"What kind of support?" Tom interrupted.
"Oh, it depends on the individual's needs. For your particular case, you would receive a job in the civil engineering area similar to your previous job - maybe slightly better if F-8's benevolence factor plays in. You would regain contact with your son - who is in college now, I believe, and you would be able to reunite with your wife. Of course this is just an outline based on F-8's preliminary screening of your mental composure; F-8 will calculate the details later."
Tom stumbled backwards, shocked at how much Knight knew. "How do you know all this?" he finally managed to croak. "What... who are you?"
Knight ignored the question. "The door to your left leads to nothing, really. It cancels the execution of F-8 and leads you back to your life where you will - as I stated earlier - return to your decrepit, dismal condition. The door to your right will lead you to the basic path I just outlined for you. Wife, son, job - in other words, happiness. It is a simple choice, really; in fact, one could argue it is not even a choice."
Tom managed to regain his composure. "If it's not a choice, then why make it one? Why make that door at all?"
"The fact is, you don't have a choice," said Knight, leaning back in his chair with a smug smile. "Causality demands you seek the more practical path. F-8 is founded upon causality; therefore, F-8 predicts you will go out the right door - the only door."
Tom looked at him quizzically, then at the left door, then back at Knight.
"Then why is the left door there?" he finally asked.
Knight paused, and for a fraction of a second Tom caught a mixture of surprise and fear in his eyes. Tom could not discern the exact emotion, but he could sense its presence. It was only for a fraction of a second; Knight regained his composure, looked Tom steadily in the eye, and proceeded to respond in the exact same informative, yet slightly condescending manner as before.
"You are quick. But the simple fact is, there is no door." A sly smile crept over his mouth. "It is but an illusion; it does not exist."
Tom raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Bullshit."
"Denial is the most common reaction," responded Knight.
Tom stood defiantly, his arms crossed and folded across his chest, but said nothing.
"It is an illusion created by your mind trying to escape the natural causal sequence of events about to happen. In other words, you are hoping, Tom. You are hoping a false hope, and it is manifesting itself in that door."
"Bullshit," Tom repeated, this time shrugging his shoulders, as if to indicate Knight's words had no effect on him. Slowly, in an effort to act casually, he walked over to his left and toward the door. He extended his left arm out toward the metallic handle, dimly reflecting his distorted image. He added, "I guess I'll just prove you wrong, and walk out this door, and..."
He stopped.
What are you doing? he asked himself, as the onset of second-guessing besieged him. Are you sure you want to return to such a crappy life? He pictured the rain, the emptiness of his house, the loneliness of his life. Why are you doing this, you arrogant bastard? That other door has a good alternative. Tom pictured himself in his mind walking out the other door. What would be there for him? Happiness? An easy life? His son? His wife? Why not go that way?
Could it be an illusion? he asked himself, his hand hovering inches away from the door. It is possible, he thought. Even if it wasn't, what was the point of returning to his miserable condition? Perhaps he was acting too arrogantly, maybe he was too proud - something that he never seemed to control.
Why fight causality? He resisted the urge to glance at the other door; he resisted the urge to glance at Knight. He pictured how Knight was looking at his back - probably laughing to himself over the hopeless situation in front of him.
Why fight what is bound to happen? he asked himself again. Is there no choice? Am I forced to go right? He closed his eyes and felt himself falling, falling within himself to an emptiness, a void. He wanted to reach out for something solid, something real in this mad hemisphere of insanity.
Memories of his family besieged him. His son... he could see his son...
"Dad, I want some money!" begged Tom's son.
"I want some too!" responded Tom, laughing. He glanced over at his wife, sitting prettily in her wingchair and flashing her teeth as she laughed along.
But his son wasn't laughing. He pleaded persistently, "I need money, Dad!"
Tom looked over again to his wife for help, but she simply smiled at him, as if she was delegating the responsibility of answering their son to him. Tom's smile receded into his mouth. "Why?" he asked simply.
"I wanna buy that new Sony Holostation I saw on TV! It looks so cool!"
"So why aren't you saving money for it?"
"Please, can I just have some?!"
"Son, you gotta earn it to deserve it."
The boy began to throw a fit, but the memory faded. It rose up again, but at a different point.
"I want a job, Dad." He was older now, and Tom was jobless.
"Why, son? I can provide you with whatever money you need now," Tom lied sweetly.
"Dad, someone's gotta have a job."
"But you're still my son! I can support us. Just let me!" It was Tom pleading now.
"Dad, you always told me to earn what I deserve. That's what I'm doing, and that's what you're not doing." His son looked at him, sternly but lovingly. "I just want to help you out."
But Tom was still too arrogant. "I don't need anyone's help!" he asserted aggressively. "I can - and I am - getting enough money to keep us above water! Besides, I deserve this break, after your mother left me..."
"You're getting money, Dad, not earning it! Remember what you used to say? 'You only deserve what you earn?' You can't even help yourself! How can you help me?" his son raged at him.
"The government is helping us! It's not the 21st century anymore!" Tom argued.
"It's that kind of thinking that made Mom leave you!" his son accused.
Tom began to scream at his son, but the memory began to fade. He saw his son turn and storm out - the last time he ever saw his son - and the memory ended.
Knight reappeared in his mind. He was simply laughing at Tom, laughing at what he had probably seen dozens of times before in dozens of different people. The same struggle; the same eventual 'choice': the right door. Knight slipped from his mind, and his wife arose.
Tom was taken aback at how he saw her in his mind. That face, which he had not seen for so long... it was hovering right in front of his mind's eye; that beautiful, white smile she would flash whenever she was laughing, her reddish-brown hair tumbling slowly down the sides of her face, her deep brown eyes, always hidden by those red-rimmed sunglasses. But most appealing to Tom was the simple purity of her face which inspired him so often to be like that - simple, pure, and honest.
He remembered her in a white tank top and white bellbottoms, running from their house barefoot to greet him one day after his work. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.
"I love you, Tom," she whispered affectionately to Tom's chest.
"I love you too," Tom whispered back. As he was hugging her, Tom closed his eyes and pictured how they looked from a distance, two people embracing tightly, each immersed in the other. It was then he knew that he would need her forever; she relied on him, and he relied on her. He remembered walking his path alone before. How much more vibrant life was with another by his side! He smiled to himself as he embraced the only person with whom he would share his path.
The pleasant memory turned dark, as Tom found himself hugging nothing but the air in front of him. He opened his eyes and saw his wife standing in front him with two suitcases.
"I'm moving out, Tom."
The words tore through Tom's heart like bullets through paper. "But... why?"
"You're unemployed, and you're too arrogant to let me support you. You won't let me support us, Tom."
"I support us! I get enough money from the government. We can just persevere by hanging in until I find work," Tom orated.
His wife continued in her graceful, yet assertive, manner. "Tom, you don't understand what this is all about," she sighed as she motioned to her, and then Tom. "You are not supposed to help us. We are supposed to help us. You always want to be the father figure, the older one, the protector, and that's just not what this is all about."
"Then what is it? Tell me why I shouldn't help you!" cried Tom.
His wife responded simply and candidly. "Because Tom, you can't help yourself."
"I... I certainly can!" Tom stumbled.
His wife sighed. "Then let me see you, Tom." She started to turn around.
"You... you won't make it on your own! You need me, just like I need you! Remember?" Tom sputtered desperately.
"I can help myself, Tom. But if you can't help yourself, then no one can help you."
The conversation ended, and his wife turned to her car, loaded her bags, and drove off. It took perhaps 42 seconds. Tom felt weak, and felt himself falling, collapsing to his knees on the ground. He wanted to hold her one last time like the afternoon she greeted him after work. He remembered himself wanting to reach out to her, so desperately...
More memories flashed by him, all just out of his reach. Then images of people flashed by. His coworkers, people he had seen on the street, friends, family, his son, his wife, all just out of reach. Finally he saw himself flash by...
The urge to reach out seized him, and almost violently he shot his hand out for the door handle and pulled it downward, as if his weight was being supported by it. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes, and beheld the sight before him.
The door handle was down. He was holding the handle. It existed. He smiled to himself. Of course it existed. That's why it was there. He looked over to Knight, who was visibly restraining himself from displaying any emotion. Or perhaps he had none, and was trying to express one?
It was a heavy door; it almost seemed to resist Tom's determination to push it open with its very weight. Tom grunted as he pushed it slowly open, as if he was pushing away a stalwart protester. When he felt the door clang against the outside wall, he opened his eyes and looked at Knight again.
"You are doomed to mediocrity if you walk out that left door," warned Knight. "You'll never achieve anything. You'll be a nobody to the world; just a bum feeding off of someone else's hand."
"That is true... for either door." replied Tom after a pause.
"Then why not just walk out the right and make it easier on yourself?" Knight queried.
There was no response. "It is causal - natural entities seek the lowest state of energy with the highest state of results. Minimum input, maximum output." A smile crept over his face as he glanced over Tom's paralyzed expression. "So why not? You'll be doing barely anything, and living well off, better than before."
Tom slowly shook his head, and recalled a phrase. "I wouldn't deserve what I would earn."
Knight scoffed. "Once again, blinded by hope." Under his breath, he muttered something inaudible - perhaps an expression of impatience. Out loud, he continued. "You know where that path ends, Tom. Why walk it?"
"I know where both paths end."
"Then why not walk the easier one?"
"Because I don't control it."
"You have no control. Control is an illusion. Causality is the only real control. If you know where the path ends, then you have no control over where it leads."
"I do have control. Over how it leads."
Knight remained silent.
Tom broke the silence. "Well, I'll be seeing ya," he said as offhandedly as he could.
Knight nodded. "We will be meeting again."
Tom looked at the door he had pushed open one more time, then back at Knight, placing his hands on his hips and jutting his elbows outward as he faced him.
"Causality?" he inquired mockingly.
Knight's face seemed to contort ever so slightly, but his gaze remained unperturbed.
Tom turned around and took one step outside.
"Goodbye, Mr. Knight."
It was still raining, pouring even harder than before. Tom let the water soak his clothes and his skin for a while, then let go of the door. He didn't look back as it clanged shut, and walked briskly back to his house.
_______________________________"____________________________
Princeofdarknez
Story:
Without a Box
The applause was immediate as the senator stood up to the podium.
It jarred Anderson out of his absolute stillness, and he snapped his head away from the scope, and ended up shaking the legs of the sniper rifle. Fuck, he thought as he looked back through the scope. The crosshairs were far off to the right now, and instead of the senator at the center it was some backstage worker cutting up boxes, flattening them, and stacking them, presumably to discard them later on.
Slowly Anderson's left hand found the grip, and his right hand moved forward to the legs to hold them in place as he slowly swiveled the rifle to the left. Audience members flashed through his scope as he moved to the left. Faces, more faces, the senator's face, more faces...
Fuck, he silently cursed again, and he shifted backwards and let his head hang down. More pills, he thought, and crawled on his belly towards the M99 case and opened it. The red bottle of BZD had a few pills left in it. He took one, swallowed it whole, and nearly gagged, since he had no water to wash it down with. He closed his eyes for a few moments and let the BZD relax his muscles. This should be good, he thought, and crawled back over to his rifle. He checked to see if the silencer was still on the rifle. It was, so once again, with left hand on grip and right hand on bipod, he looked into the scope.
"It's a terrible moral abyss our current president has led us into!" the senator was orating. "All this time, all he has been doing is cutting the world into black and white! He says, 'You’re our ally or are our enemy!' Well, let me tell you folks, that just doesn't sound right to me!"
Cheers rose again from the crowd below, but Anderson remained in control this time. Slowly, he brought the scope back on the senator, and moved the crosshairs over his forehead.
"It's time to stop dividing the world!" the senator thundered, and the cheers rose with his voice. "It's time for our president to stop forcing us and the rest of the world to choose between two options that don't even make sense!"
More applause. The senator's wife stood up and walked up next to him, hugging him and waving as he saluted the crowd.
Anderson's left index finger curled around the trigger.
"It's time to start thinking outside the box!"
Anderson paused. The senator's forehead remained at the center of his scope. He was excitedly waving, laughing, and saluting, all the while ignorantly keeping his forehead perfectly still for Anderson's bullet. A security guard entered the scope's view, his back to Anderson, and whispered a few words to the wife.
Swiftly and precisely, Anderson moved his scope to the security guard's back. He tilted the scope down his back until the crosshairs were over the back of the guard's left knee. He pulled the trigger once and the guard dropped to the ground, clutching his knee in pain.
Anderson didn't pause to see the pandemonium he had caused; he never did. To the screams and cries of people below, he dismantled the rifle and placed each of its parts back in its respective place in the M99 case. He closed the case, locked it, stood up, and left the building through the fire escape stairs, merging with the flock of fleeing bodies through the exit.
"What the fuck, Tom?" were Corneo's first words when Anderson entered his office. Regaining his composure after this outburst, Corneo let out a sigh, relaxed in his chair, and motioned for Tom to sit.
"What happened out there, Tom?" Corneo tried again.
Anderson placed the M99 case on Corneo's desk. He pulled out a chair and sat on it.
"Well?"
Anderson hesitated a while longer before answering. "I... missed."
Corneo paused to consider this response. "Bullshit, you missed. You're my one-hundred percent man. You haven't missed a single target in your career with me."
Anderson did not respond.
"Tom, why did you do it?" Corneo asked.
Anderson did not respond.
"If you really had missed, you would have at least hit someone else's head, or shoulder, or something. Not some guy's knee. Not with an M99."
Anderson's face stiffened.
"I'm not gonna hurt you for this or anything, Tom. So just answer the damn question: Why did you miss?"
"Something..." Anderson started.
"What?"
"Something... something made me... something made me just... flip out. I guess."
"Lost your cool at last, huh." Corneo leaned back further in his chair to ponder this response. He stared at the ceiling for a while, and then reached in his cabinet for a lighter and pulled a cigar out of his jacket pocket.
"What was it, Tom?" he asked as he lit the cigar, and puffed on it a few times.
"I just feel... like I'm trapped in this box, and I need to get out of it," Tom managed to muster. "I need to escape, get out of here, or something."
"For a little while, Tom?"
"I don't know how long. Maybe a day, maybe forever. I don't know."
"Tom, you know that's impossible." Corneo exhaled, releasing smooth Cuban smoke from between his lips.
Anderson let out a defeated sigh and leaned back in his chair. "I know."
"That's how this life is, Tom. We're all trapped in our own boxes. Take me, for example. I need to protect my interests, so I gotta have certain people dead. If I don't have these people dead, I can't protect my interests. Ya see?"
"What interests?" Anderson interjected.
"That's not of importance to you," Corneo replied coldly. "It's the same for you, when you think about it. You can't protect your interests unless you kill these guys for me."
"What interests?" Anderson repeated.
"Well, you gotta earn a living, don't you? And the best way for a killer to earn his keep is to kill. Just like a salesman sells, and a farmer farms. A killer's gotta kill. No way around it." Corneo paused for his words to take effect. "So, you know running away is impossible. You can't escape the box, or whatever. You gotta stick to it, cause you got a responsibility to yourself." Corneo's shook his cigar at Anderson with his words for emphasis.
Anderson gazed at Corneo silently, intensely. Suddenly, "Goddammit, Don, quit this bullshit. Just tell me what do you want me to do, huh?" His outburst left him sitting straight up in his chair, and Corneo leaning further back as if to absorb the verbal blow.
"I want you to keep killing, Tom," Corneo responded candidly after a brief pause. "But I'll make it easier on you." Corneo leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his desk, and propped his chin on his hands. "I'll set you up with a partner."
"Goddammit," Anderson muttered. "You know I work alone."
"Relax, Tom," Corneo soothed. "He'll just be there to help you out, make sure you don't 'flip out'." As he said those last words, he raised his hands and formed quotation marks. He continued, "He'll just be there to keep you on track, if you know what I mean."
"He's gonna fuck shit up, Don," Anderson fumed. "He'll fuck up my rhythm."
"What rhythm, Tom?" Corneo hissed back. "You got nothing now, so you don't got shit to say to me now! You'll do what I tell you to do, or you're going to find yourself up shit creek without a fucking paddle!" Corneo was on the edge of his seat, glaring and eyes wide in anger at Anderson. "So don't fuck with me, Tom, because you know what I can do."
Anderson had to fold, because he knew what Corneo could do. He could snap his fingers and have one of his assassins put a bullet through his brain while he was sleeping. He was trapped, and there was only one thing he could do.
"Okay. Just tell me when."
Two weeks later, Anderson and his new partner Reagan walked nonchalantly up the fire escape stairs of the same building, to the same premium sniping spot where Anderson had shot a security guard in the back of the knee.
"Why the fuck are we in the same spot?" Anderson hissed. "Aren't they expecting us?"
Reagan remained silent.
"Do you know what's going on?" Anderson asked Reagan.
"We're killing the attorney general," Reagan replied coolly as he opened the M99 case.
"Great, fucking great. You're a hotshot, ain't ya?" Anderson hissed.
"Look man, I don't want to be here as much as you don't want to be here," Reagan answered, turning to Anderson. "In fact, I'd say I'm more afraid of dying than you. All I want to do is set up, shoot, and leave." It was true; Anderson had heard of Reagan’s attachment to life (“fucking pussy,” Corneo had mentioned in his brief), and had compared him in his mind to a rabbit struggling not to look at the headlights of an oncoming car while crossing a freeway.
"Well, why don't you bail and let me take care of it?" Anderson asked, hands on his hips.
Reagan pulled out the bipod and began attaching it to the barrel of the rifle.
"Well?"
Reagan didn't turn around as he attached the silencer to the end of the rifle. "Corneo's got men watching us. If we bail, we get shot."
"What?" Anderson couldn't believe his ears.
"Corneo's got his eye on you. I don't know what you told him in his office, but he thinks you're going to bail, so he's got a backup team on your ass. You don't do what you're supposed to do, you get capped. Understand?"
"So why can't you bail?"
"They'll shoot me too."
"But you got nothing to do with me!"
"And why should that matter? You know that's always been the rules. In fact, you're lucky Corneo didn't just shoot you on the spot when you returned and you got a second chance instead. Maybe you'll make the right decision this time, and do your fucking duty."
Fucking hell, thought Anderson as Reagan finished piecing together the rifle. There seemed to be no way out of this circularity. Kill or be killed. There had to be some way out, some other option. There had to be some way to escape this cruel prison which had been built around him, some way to get out of this goddamn box...
"Baby's ready, Tom," Reagan informed him as he began to line up the shot.
"What are you doing?" Anderson asked. "It's my shot, isn't it?"
"No, it's my shot, man. Corneo didn't trust you with that either."
"Well, what the fuck am I doing here?" Anderson threw up his hands in frustration.
"Keep it down, dammit!" Reagan hissed. "You're covering me when something fails."
Anderson sighed and took a couple steps back from Reagan to give him some room. When something fails, eh? When, not if? Anderson's heart skipped a beat as a loud crack emerged from the M99 as Reagan shot the attorney general in the neck. The usual pandemonium accompanying an assassination ensued, but Anderson knew it offered no cover this time. This time both men remained still, completely aware of their doomed situation. Security probably already knew their position from the rifle crack, and was coming for them.
"You fucked up the silencer, you fucking idiot!" Anderson hissed sharply at him.
"Fuck!" Reagan hissed in agreement. "Let's get the fuck out of here!"
Leaving the rifle and case behind, they bolted for the exit to the stairs. They started down the stairs, only to see police and federal agents storming up the stairs for them.
Shit, thought Anderson, and he turned around to run the other way.
"Where the fuck are we going?" Reagan cried as he followed him. Bullets nipped at their heels like a guard dog off its leash and whizzed around their heads like angry bees.
"Look for a room to hide in," Anderson ordered.
The room they found themselves in now was pitch-black, allowing no light in or out. Anderson opened and closed his eyes, and saw no difference in the two images. It was most probably a small room, and square in size, and ancient. Every sense Anderson had led to this conclusion. Anderson could taste the stale and dusty air, which made him believe there was no way out of this room except the one entrance. Each sound Anderson made in the room resulted in a series of creaks and echoes of creaks, continuing softly yet endlessly at the level of a low whisper, to the effect that it felt as if whispering ghosts were angrily brushing by his neck.
But the most horrifying sensual experience for Anderson was seeing nothing at all. The room had to be some kind of void, some eerie sort of "mu", some vacuum that must have been similar to the birthplace of this universe. Anderson felt it resonate with his soul, and reflected with self-disgust; he might as well not be alive...
"This room is freaky, Tom... I don't like it," Reagan whispered, which in turn evoked the whispers of passing ghosts in the room. "It's empty... there's nothing here."
"Nothing ever existed here."
"Yeah."
Deathly silence followed, and again Anderson became aware of the room's absolute indifference to his situation. It did not antagonize, it did not sympathize, it simply did not exist. Staring into the blackness, it seemed to make no difference whether his eyes were open or closed, whether he was alive or dead; even the ghosts were still, and Anderson almost gagged on the stillness with each breath.
"Reg," he started.
"Yeah, man?"
"Why did we kill the attorney general?"
"We were hired to."
"Yeah, but why did we do it? Why did we agree?"
"Man, we had to. Corneo needed the attorney general dead."
Anderson sighed. "God... there had to have been a better way out."
"Man, we had to. Listen to me. If we didn't kill this guy, we wouldn't get paid, and we wouldn't be able to live. And I told you Corneo had other men watching our job tonight, because he thought you might bail. And if we had bailed, we would have been dead."
There it was again, Anderson thought grimly. We either die by one hand or by another. Do this job and have it cost us our lives, or don't do this job and have it cost us our lives. It was an empty choice they had made...
"It was a simple choice!" Reagan insisted. "We either lived for a bit longer, or we died on the spot. One or the other. No way around it."
Reagan's last few words rung in Anderson's head like a discordant harmony - an odd, eerie cross between a diminished and an augmented chord of the same key. It sounded like a crashing building, like stones crumbling out of a wall, like the march of policemen's boots.
"Shit!" Reagan cried when he heard the crunching footsteps. "They're coming!" They were faint footsteps, but enough for Reagan to frantically begin finding some place to hide. Escape was out of the question, for there was only one entrance, and it would inevitably lead to the guards. Reagan proceeded systematically, finding first the intersection of two walls, and then going up and down a narrow strip of the room in order to see if any objects, boxes, or anything was there which he could hide behind.
"What are you doing?" Anderson asked.
"Look man, it's simple. You either hide, or you get caught. So I'm trying to hide."
The same discordant harmony registered in Anderson's head again, louder this time. "Are you sure we have no other choice?"
"Man, I'm telling you - it's one or the other. C'mon! Hurry up!"
Anderson shook his head slowly. "There's nothing here, Reagan. Nothing here for either of us to hide in, to live in, or anything. Can't you feel it?"
Reagan continued to pace quickly across the room - where exactly he was, Anderson was uncertain, but he could hear his footsteps grow louder and softer as he moved about the room, like a melody over the harmony of footsteps crunching in unison somewhere outside.
Anderson raised his voice. "God, Reg, there's nothing here! Don't you understand?"
Only Reagan's footsteps responded by increasing in frequency.
"There's gotta be another way out!" Anderson cried.
The crunching footsteps grew louder, a crescendo of terror. Anderson imagined his bones crunching in their teeth and under their boots. The madness elevated itself, the ghosts from his last cry whirled around him screaming inaudible phrases, Reagan's footsteps quickened. Anderson could feel his heart quicken and his breath shorten. He felt stifled; he had to escape before he drowned in this nauseating nothing.
Instinctively, Anderson’s feet began to move. Good idea, he congratulated his feet. Desperate to escape the enveloping madness, he stumbled around fleeing the ghosts, escaping from the blackness of one area to find refuge in the blackness of the next, running towards and away from the crunching footsteps, running around in circles, until he managed to break out of a circular path and run smack into the door through which they had entered the room.
The door. It was so fucking obvious now, Anderson realized. He turned back to the room to address Reagan, wherever he was at that point.
"I'm outta here, Reg," he declared, hand on the doorknob.
"You're gonna fucking die," Reagan chided, still hunting for a non-existent hiding spot.
Anderson turned the knob and pushed outward on the door. "Better than not being alive."
____________________________________________________________
Fan-fic (there is just a fanfic and a song... anyway here they are)
____________________________________________________________
Rye
Category: Fan-fic
Looking Back
A young blond man's figure stood on a cliff, blocking the sun. His expression was restless, as he had to make a difficult decision. His bright blue eyes, that were normally playful, were clouded by a choice that he was going to regret. He turned back and looked into the eyes of the girl that meant everything to him. She shook her head sensing what was going to happen, her soft brown hair bouncing as she moved. Tears were flowing from her eyes as she whispered "no...no" All he could say was "Yuna"...
Yuna bolted upright, cold sweating running down her face. Just a dream she though to herself, shaken by what she just seen. It didn't feel like a dream though... maybe it was because it was the past. A truth she wasn't going to get over soon.
"Yunie!" an excited voice yelled. A blond girl ran into the room with a big grin on her face, the sun shining in her bright green eyes.
"Y-yes Rikku?" Yuna replied, was still shaken by her dream.
"Good morning... or afternoon really." Rikku smirked. Yuna was such a later sleeper... But she deserved extra sleep, after all that happened.
"What's going on?" Yuna said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, trying to not look upset about her dream.
"Great news! C'mon! Lets go already!" Rikku was almost bouncing with glee about the good news, her smile even larger than it usually was.
"Ok ok! I'm coming" Yuna said as she got up from her bed, stretching her arms out and yawning. She walked over to her mirror, her barefeet padding on the cold wooden floor.
Rikku left the room while Yuna got ready, waiting outside the doorway looking outside the window. The warmth of the sun kissed her skin. I can't wait to get outside, Rikku thought. Afterall it was a beautiful summer day. Yuna emerged from the room all ready to go. They walked out the door and into the fresh, warm breeze of the isle of besaid. Yuna missed the small island when on her pilgrimage. She never thought she get to enjoy another day of it ever again... instead she lost something that meant more to her than any island. The islanders waved to Yuna and Rikku as they passed by. They known Yuna for many years, she was like family to them. She smiled and waved back politely, as she was taught by the temple elders when she was little. The temples meant nothing now...
Rikku led Yuna to Wakka and Lulu's house. The recently got married and they were happy together. Yuna loved them as if they were family. She lost her father and mother at a young age. Kimahri the ronso, took her to the besaid isle afterward. Yuna loved Kimahri, but she needed kids to play with. Lulu, Wakka and Chappu -who died for an honorable cause- played with Yuna everyday. They went through good and bad times together.
Yuna thought back to the first time they met. She wasn't use to besaid and the fiends there. She wandered of from the temple and was ambushed by a dog like fiend... she thought she was finished, until Wakka and Lulu saved her. They're live savers, she thought to herself. Rikku tapped Yuna on the shoulder and woke her up from her day dream.
"Tell her Lulu!" Rikku said, her face flushed from her excitement.
"Yuna... I'm having a baby." Lulu said, losing her cool composed look, replacing it with a smile. Wakka put his arm around her and smiled brightly.
"That's wonderful!" Yuna was smiling, thinking of the new baby to come. I'm going to be an aunt... sorta of, Yuna thought to herself. "I can't wait until he... or she, comes." Yuna added as she looked at Rikku, who was grinning at the idea of a baby. She could teach the baby to be al bhed, Rikku thought. Yuna giggled knowing what Rikku was thinking. Wakka wouldn't like the idea of an al bhed child.
Then it hit Yuna again. How could she ever forget? That terrible day, the day that changed her live forever. Yuna then felt cold thinking about it, her insides feeling like ice. She needed to be alone, to think. "I'm going for a walk" Yuna said weakly, as she walked away.
"Yunie?" Rikku called out in shock, but Lulu stopped her. She knew what it was like, and she knew that Yuna needed time.
Yuna walked along the beach, feeling detached from the world. She found the cove that she often went to, to think about her desicion to become a summoner. The waves crashed against the cove's rocks, roaring and droning over the sound of the besaid children at play on the island. A desolate place was what Yuna needed at a time like this.
"Why did you leave me?" Yuna whispered to herself, as she sat down on the rocks. She stared blankly at the sea, which was shining from the bright sun, then looked up into the sky.
"Why?" she managed to say after a few minutes. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she her head into her hands. I've lost so much, why did this have to happen? Why now, she thought to herself lost for words. She lost her father, mother, and now someone who she imagined her living her life with forever. Yuna layed on the ground silently as she thought about what happened. The cool sea breeze blowed her hair as the tears dried on her face. She was tired from the nightmare she had and sleep claimed her...
The night sky's moon illuminated the water, giving it a blue-ish glow. The reflection of the water rippling showed on the young man's face as he stared deeply into the girl's eyes. They were brimming with tears, as she sobbed in the water. The young man put his hands on the girl's shoulders as he said "Yuna" softly. He drew closer as the girl gazed at him. His lips touched her's as a tear from the girl fell on his cheek...
Yuna woke up again, but this time she didn't jump up shocked. She couldn't... she was devastated. She couldn't move as she felt completely numb.That dream was one of the most cherished moments of her life. It occurred to her that it will never happen again, and she couldn't take it. Why did it happen to her?
"Why!?" Yuna yelled, infuriated. She worked for the people so they could have love, so they could have and enjoy their family, while Yuna couldn't enjoy hers. Her love was gone and her family too.
Doom
Category: Story
Fate of the Lonely
The night air was bitterly cold and the chilling touch of the howling wind bit through the traveller’s cloak as he stood watching, waiting, thinking.
The view of Winterborne village was beautiful, almost perfect, from the hill that overlooked it, situated within a surrounding forest and enclosed comfortably by a sheltering mountain range. The village itself was old, built centuries ago and still standing. It had originally been a lot smaller than it was now, but the timber trade had thrived and many came from all over to seek employment, leading to an expansion in housing.
The man looked about him as he stepped down onto the gravel path that ran through the village, his eyes taking in every sight and not missing a single one. A tawny owl sat perched in a tree to his right with an unblinking gaze. A leaf broke away from the branch that had held it captive, drifting and spiralling lazily to the ground. The clouds moved to obscure the hazy silver moon.
He felt a pang of heartache as he entered the settlement through gates of iron. It was two years since he had last been here, the place of his birth and childhood friendships. He had travelled long and hard to return, but he was not here for a reunion.
He had come back to Winterborne to die.
The place was now deserted, the citizens having migrated to pastures new when the climate took a turn for the worse: storms had destroyed much of the industry that had built up, and the dream became a nightmare for many. His friends were all gone, too. He was totally alone. He thought of them now, of the time they had spent together.
One image in particular appeared in his mind, that of a girl who had been exceptionally special to him. They had grown up in the village together and had experienced a deep and meaningful relationship that blossomed into an unparalleled love over the years. She was dead at this moment in time, murdered two years ago when Winterborne had been raided by a sizeable group of bandits. She had died for him, to buy him the space to escape, and he had fled like a coward instead of trying to aid her, leaving her broken and bleeding body behind him. A single tear fell from a pale blue eye as he recalled her last words: “I love you.”
She had been so pretty, he remembered, like an angel. He had a clear recollection of her appearance: long, dark hair which had been so sleek and silky to touch as it cascaded down over he shoulders and back, chocolate-brown eyes that seemed to draw you in and warm your soul, a dazzling smile that could light up even the darkest, dimmest room. He could almost see her before him, her elegant dress fluttering and flowing in the breeze as she danced gracefully in front of his eyes. He missed her so much and longed for her to be by his side once more, though he knew that this could never be. An overwhelming sense of guilt and loss welled up inside him, making him feel sick, dizzy. He was plagued by the fact that he could have helped her, and that she might have lived if it hadn’t been for his own selfishness. His dreams were haunted by visions of her form impaled on the blades of those who had slain her, or worse still, her lying face down in a pool of her own blood.
He had tried to deal with it, he had tried to remain strong, but he could no longer cope. Grief had cast a shadow over his life, a life that he could not bear to live anymore. He was gripped by a burning desire to pass on, to free himself from the chains of sorrow that now bound him. He knew the perfect place to fulfil this desire. It was why he was here.
It took every effort to remain upright as he stumbled along the empty streets. Memories hit him like a wave of nostalgia as he sighted various areas which had been important to them both. He saw the serene, peaceful waters of Crystalmir Lake where they had raced paper sailing boats as children, screaming with delight and elation. Further on was the weatherbeaten bench where they had sat and talked for hours on end. An immense tree that was rooted on the village outskirts had served as the site for their first kiss, an event that had taken place under its watchful branches. Ahead of him was the square where they had revealed their romance to the others in their social circle, and to the left of that was Winterborne Church, where they were due to marry on the day after her death. She was taken from him before the sacred ceremony could occur, and he blamed himself. His rage and self-loathing amplified then, and he began to run blindly, guided only by instinct. He was close though, he felt it.
The houses swam before his face in a blur as he hurried past them. On more than one occasion he tripped and fell in his haste, only to pick himself up and struggle on with renewed vigour. He looked forward to being reunited with her in any way possible. By the time he reached the hideaway that only they could locate, he was weak and weary. The entrance was a trapdoor in a backyard of one of the houses. They had discovered it, quite by accident, when they were teenagers, and had made it their own. It became a secondary home and retreat for the couple, and they kept it secret even from those they trusted. It was forever known as the Lover’s Den.
He descended the rope ladder that trailed from the trapdoor to the floor of the cavern, fumbling in his pocket for a box of matches. He struck one, dispelling the blackness from the room, and he smiled slightly. It was exactly as they had left it. Makeshift beds of straw mattresses lay adjacent to a wall. Roughly carved, crude furniture of his own making, including a table and chairs, littered the chamber. A dresser nestled snugly in one corner. A set of shelves had been screwed to one rocky surface, and a number of odds and ends had been placed there. The den’s primary use was that of an underground storage chamber during the Kaln Wars, but it had since been forgotten, left abandoned and empty for a period of time before it was found by two curious teens.
He lit the rose-scented candles on the table. She had provided those, and the smell relaxed him a little, enveloping him with a delicate fragrance. He grew calmer. He had accepted his fate, and it didn’t seem like such a hard thing to do now that he was finally here. He took the dagger from where it had been sheathed in his belt and held it out in front of him. It was exquisite in quality. The handle was solid gold and the hilt was set with gleaming sapphires. The blade, about six inches in length, was silver laced with intricate jade patterns. It was more a decorative item than anything else. Something on the dresser caught his eye. He retrieved it. It was a photograph of his girlfriend at her most radiant. She had given it to him as a gift, a token of her love in a unique heart-shaped frame of mahogany. The picture brought back yet more memories and with them a new wave of sickness. He vomited, on the verge of collapse. At that point, he broke down completely, his body wracked with sobs as he rocked back and forth, clutching the photo to him. This was the end. His end. He wouldn’t have to endure this pain for any longer. He hoped that she would forgive him in the afterlife. His hand shook violently and uncontrollably as he aimed the dagger at his own heart and closed his eyes.
“I love you.” He echoed his deceased sweetheart’s words as he buried the weapon up to the hilt in his chest. A cry that was more animal than human escaped his throat, raw with suffering and anguish. He fell to his knees, dagger still jutting from its unholy resting place, as his lifeblood ebbed away from him. Time appeared to freeze for a few seconds, then he hit the floor with a dull thud and lay still. His restless spirit had found the peace that it had craved for so long.
Outside, it started to rain, pattering softly against the treetops, as if the gods themselves were shedding tears of mourning for the young man who had taken his own life. The tawny owl hooted softly, spread its wings and flew away into the dead of night.
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Doom
Category: Song
Abby
Didn't believe in love until the day I saw you
Knew you could be the one to make my wishes come true
Long dark hair and a shining smile
I was taken right in by your hidden guile
BRIDGE
Turn me down, knock me back
Silence is so powerful
Break me down, build me back
I never dreamt you'd be this cruel
CHORUS(*2)
Ooh, there's so many things that I want to say
Ooh, now I know that you're going away
Abby, you're on my mind
A lover is so hard to find
Your f**ked-up friends get off on this
Taking pleasure in taking the p*ss
Screwing with my thoughts, they really mess me up
Blaming it on you just to cover it up
BRIDGE
CHORUS (*2)
You didn't lead me on but you made me obsess
I don't know how you did it but you made me feel blessed
Now I feel like sh*t but it's not all your fault
I guess you can't play with fire without getting caught
BRIDGE
CHORUS (*2)
You're my own drug, my little heroin
I can't get enough, it's my own private sin
(And I'm past f**king caring!)
You make me fly, you make me soar
You bring me crashing to the floor
(And I've stopped f**king caring!)
BRIDGE
CHORUS (*2)
BRIDGE
Ooh, I've run out of things that I want to say
Ooh, now I'm glad that you're going away
Abby, get out of mind
Another ain't so hard to find
(Bitch! Get out of my mind!)
(You f**king bitch! Get out of my mind!)
REPEAT TO FADE
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Now u're goin' to read this, think what's you think is more cute, not cute and:
- send ur votes for me or for Trumpet Thief, I think Chloe is having problems with her computer.
- You enter the category, the username or the title of the job.
- Trumpet, Chloe and I will count the votes and we'll tell the winners later;
- If I forgot smth tell me, oh and Strawberryman I haven't forgot you I'm just waiting for ur entry!
Stay ok
Sweet_Angel and Chloe
However, I'm not 100% positive.
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