Don't ask...

Melanie Waters shivered, she pulled the dark trench coat around her, but it wasn't the cold that was making her shiver, it was the shadows.

They haunted her, tugged at her clothes, whispered in her ear, always pulling her attention.
They terrified her, she had felt the shadows since she was a little girl, it hadn't taken her long to realise that not everybody had shadows, they had the usual shadow of course, the image of yourself, but they didn't have the other shadows that teased you, pulling your pigtails and yanking on your dress.

 No-one knew what to do with her, for she didn't waver on her belief in the shadows until she was nine, when she realised that they only got her in trouble, so instead she pretended they weren't there, she ignored them and tried to live like they weren't there... But that just made it worse, by trying to ignore them she was constantly reminded of their presence, they became violent, more volatile, and then they started to speak to her.

She was afraid of the voices worst of all, they were very persuasive and cunning, they told her the things she didn't want to know, they reminded her of things she did that she wanted to forget, and they made her want to do thingd that she shouldn't.
 They whispered low in her ear, telling her about the girls that made fun of her for being a phsycopath, and how she should want to, "Rip their throats out, make them beg, make them plead, squeeze the life from their souls," this terrified her, but what scared her more, was that for one brief moment, she wanted to do it so badly that her fingers had inched towards the cook's knife in the home economics drawer.

When she turned 15 she couldn't ignore them any more, they hurt her, and punished her, lacerating her skin, and then they whispered to her, feeding her their words and murderous intentions, to rip, to tear, to maim and torture.
 Melanie was completely alone, she couldn't tell anyone and she couldn't have friends lest the shadows make her do to something that she would regret, she became an outcast, a reject of her own accord.

Melanie succeded in being invisible for a long time, until she fell in love. He was nothing special, but he was a good soul who made her laugh and forget the shadows, and murder and the different poisons she could slip into someones tea to give them a slow and agonising death, she felt safe.
  The shadows didn't like this, not one bit did they like having their captives attention anywhere but where they were directing her, so they gave her a little push while she was sleeping, for controlling a body in such a vulnerable state was nothing for demons from hell.

She awoke on a roof-top with blood on her hands, and her love lying bleeding beside her, the knife was sitting close by in the pool of crimson, the shadows snickered in her ear, "Isn't it wonderful? Look at it, it's such a lovely colour red," and they cackled some more, Melanie weeped and sobbed begging and pleading and cursing her own name, she had never wanted to live like this, she had never wanted to live at all. It was time to stop, she wouldn't, she couldn't hurt anyone else.

She stepped cautiously to the roof's edge, she peered over the side, it wasn't very high, but it was high enough for the deed, Melanie blinked away her tears, she wasn't sad for herself or for anyone else for she would be leaving no one behind, she was sad because if she had led a different life, without the shadows, it would have been different, she would, or could have been happy.

And she jumped.

I don't know what this is... I really don't. I don't like it much either, I had a rather different thing planned in my head, but it turned out like this.... Its a little morbid and dark but it could be worse...

Just thinking....

This might become a daily thing... I say that now when I've had nothing to do and posted a few rubbish things on consecutive days but then I won't post for a long time... I can tell that'll happen but I'm going to write this anyway.

The woman had seen into the king’s heart long before she and the child had been seperated at the prisons’ gate. She thought of escaping instead of cursing him but saw it was no use, they knew her face, they would hunt her down and kill her and Kayla, at least this way, she had a support for her daughter’s life, the soldier from the forest wasn’t a bad man, and he was too scared of what she would do to him to go back on his word, he knew what to do, she had made sure of that herself.

The king had deicded that after she had been executed he would leave the child out on the streets, for her fate to be decided there, so the woman spent the two days and two nights before her execution  on a dirty straw mattress which offered no comfort or heat to her frail and thin body, plotting how she would curse the king, she had to keep  her word, although previous it had been an empty threat, but then he made the wrong decision, and she had to hold true to her end of the bargain, she wouldn’t let him get away with planning to throw the precious life of her daughter to the scum and mongrels on the street, she was only a baby after all, she hadn’t even come into any magic yet, though she had no doubt that she would inherit her powers. Her first thought was about plagueing his kingdom, but decided that was unfair on all the villagers and townsfolk who had not wronged her in any way or who had never wronged anyone in any way, just innocent bystanders, along with this thought went tampering with rainfall, water sources and crops, she considered weakening the queen but realised that it would throw the kingdom into turmoil, nothing caused as much upset as an ailing monarch.

Then the idea struck her, it was her daughter being put at risk, her life hanging in the balance at such a tender age, the king had a son, only a fraction older than her daughter, and he as a parent, should feel the pain of someone hurting their child, she would not normally have tainted such a young life but she had to keep her word, and it would be felt for the next generations of his people, she wouldn’t physically hurt the boy, she wouldn’t kill him or do something that would last only for a short time, oh no, her magic would be long lived, and last long after she was dead, and she laughed, a hollow dry sound rasping in her throat, and began conjuring the curse.

A little snippet of something I've been working on.. it's supposed to be like a fairy tale

Just some more OC's from an original story so if you steal theem I will hunt you down and murder you violently :)

Lorelei Jenson
Looks:
  - Red hair (more auburny than ginger) just past her shoulders
  - Green eyes with flecks of gold and brown
  - Relatively short
  - Thin, but quite strong and toned
  - Pale and freckled
Age: 94 (looks 19)
History/info: Lorelei is an angel assasin, she rids the world of certain scum and murderers who the elder council to her to, she uses a one handed silver sword, and her magic to do the jobs, she has a short temper. She was partnered with a dark angel, Sam Taylor, she can't stand him, Light angels and dark angels don't get along because of the bad blood between them, but the two elder councils are trying to reform ties by putting it all behind them, Lorelei agrees with this but she can't stand Sam.


Sam Taylor
Looks:
  - Dark brown hair, thick and permanently windswept
  - Brown eyes
  - 6'5 (height)
  - Strong and muscled
  - Slightly tanned
Age: 140 (looks around 22)
History/info: Sam is an angel assasin, he's the son of the Main elder in the Dark angel's council, he uses a silver claymore and his dark magic, he's very egotistical. He was partnered with the light angel Lorelei Jenson, he can't get enough of her, but he would never let it show. He lives with Lorelei in a large apartment in London.

Just a little creepy something

The sun was setting, all was quiet, no birds sung, no children shouted or laughed, no one spoke, what broke the silence of the air was the whining creak of a metallic swing, in the bottom of an abandoned garden. 

  When new residents would ask no one bought that house and why no one removed the dreadful old thing,
they were told with gusto the story of the horrible happenings at the house at the corner.

"There was a little girl lived there, don't remember how long ago, but her wee dead body was found on that swing, her innocent brown eyes closed like sleeping, and a slit going from under her ear to her stomach,"

and they would trace the line for emphasis, and older residents, would embellish it a little more, to make sure no one would move the swing, out of respect for the dead, no one particularly wanted to buy the house either, for supersticious reasons.

Sometimes whenever all was quiet, and no wind was blowing the trees the swing would rock,

back, and forth, back and forth,
squeak and grind, squeak and grind,

what no one knew, but still speculated in ghost stories, was that there was a little girl sitting on the swing, in a white dress, rocking it,
to and fro,
backwards and forwards,

Always sitting, always watching, she'd been there for eighty years she'd be there for eighty more.

 She watches the people look at her swing in horror, and she wouldn't understand, she'd call to them,

"Why won't you play with me? I'm so lonely?"

 because the little girl didn't understand  that no one could see her, and she couldn't move from the swing because her soul was bound to the metal bars, because that was where she died,
she sat every day,
she watched and waited,
swinging, to and fro,
waiting,
always waiting,
for someone to come and play.

I don't know if I like this.... but I think I do... I don't really know where it came from... what do you think??

character profile

Given Name: Bryony Carlson
Taken Name: Celestia terror
Looks:
           - Dark brown curly hair, mid-waist
           - Amber eyes
           - Tall and thin
           - Leanly muscled
           - Pale and freckled
Age: 16
History: Bryony was orphaned as a child, she underwent truly terrible things in the orphanage, but when she discovered her powers, and how dangerous they were she ran away when she was 13. She lives in the backroom of an old bookstore, the shop owner taught her how to use the magic she sensed in the young girls veins.
She's an adept, she carries a 12 inch switchblade strapped to her thigh. She is also trained in self defense and with a staff.

Her adept power is to manipulate people's blood and their bodies, cotracting their hearts their veins, attacking their nerve system, giving them excruciting pain or an agonising death. her power scares her, she has only ever killed one person with it, by contracting their heart, the man she murdererd was her families killer, and she had sworn revenge on him, for putting her in the orphanage.

Life gets in the way

Have you ever had the most tremendous idea in the corner of your mind?
 Like something you might have come up with in a dream, but you just can't remember what it was or why it was (if that makes sense) and jsut before you grasp it a teacher calls on you, or you have to get up?
 I've had the feeling all week, and it's driving me balistic.

I've been writing various bits and pieces, no short stories though, I've been trying to focus on school, trying being the keyword.

"Children’s powers are awakened once they reach the age of four, sometimes their powers can be recognised earlier, and sometimes later. These powers are called gifts, and the individual possessing the power uses it according to their line of work, usually assigned by the empire if it is a particularly unusual gift, though mostly these are from the higher rankings, sometimes they are from lower rankings too.

The status and wealth of a member of society is measured on what ranking their gift is, they achieve their first ranking upon entrance to first school, this is however only a predicted ranking of what they will be when they enter the world of work, and once they enter second school their predicted ranking will be reviewed and possibly changed, and once they leave school, their ranking will become permanent."

Small piece from something I'm working on.... what do you think?