I'm a Kitten Killer

So, the night before last night, I read about that poor eyeless kitten in Georgia (http://goosestep-lion.livejournal.com/134965.html?view=924981#t924981 - thanks for passing on the word, Sylph). Anyhow, I went to bed, and then I dreamed that Mom and Dad bought me three cute little fuzzy kittens (keep in mind, I would never get a pet in real life, since Dad's allergic to cats and Mommy's got problms with dogs :XD: - so I should have known I was dreaming, but for some silly reason I didn't yet). They were ADORABLE.

Anyhow I was really tired, but one of the kittens needed a bath, so I took the cute little fuzz ball into the bathroom and filled the tub with a few inches of nice warm water. The kitten starts splashing around, having a ball, when I fall asleep because I'm so exhausted. Next thing I know I'm jerking up and there's this tiny black kitten skeleton soaking in the water. A SKELETON.

Now I'm perfectly traumatized and come running out into the living room screaming "I killed it! I killed it!" and yelling that we had to return the other two before I killed them too. I was crying and panicked and confused. And then my parents got divorced (another thing that's never happening; they PROMISED. Even if they hadn't - Mom and Dad love each other SO MUCH. I see that every day, even more every year. They take such good care of one another and they're a team in everything they decide) and I was really irked at them for doing that. And then I went through this weird trial, and there was this drunk guy going through it too (he was a REAL bum and a lowlife and a jerk, too) and then mom and dad were getting remarried, and then it had all been some illusion (except the kitten), but they were having a ceremony anyway, and then the end of time came, and there was cake…

It was a weird dream.

But I don't think I'm ever getting over that poor little kitten. :cry:

Happy Halloween!

EDIT: GAH! Due to blogger craziness, the pictures and the text are totally out of sink. Each bit of text has a description, however, so you should be fine if you read and look carefully. Read on!
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Yippy! It’s the Day of the Dead, All Hallow’s Eve, that special day where people buy candy just to give it away. It’s like Christmas, only sweets instead of presents, and people give to strangers rather than those they know just to let kids have a good time. I think it’s a touching holiday, and a real fun one too, with all those fabulous costumes. I love picking them out and putting them together; it’s such a blast.

Since this year I won't be doing much for this special day, I thought I should post some dress-up memorabilia. I plan to be a Psycho-Ologist - or a Sinister Psychologist, or Lyla Alden, if you remember me ranting on her - this year, but you probably won't see pics until tomorrow. To tie you over, and for my own nostalgia's sake, here's every other year I ever dressed up:



Halloween, 1999, Dear Sister and I. I think we're supposed to be Barney and a Bumble bee, but who knows? The masks kind of throw me off.




Halloween 2003, Dear Sister as Alice in Wonderland and myself Super Man! Yippy!

A vampress and a mummy. Dear Sister's costume rocked this year, being 2004.

I went as a vampire for the second and last time, Dear Sister as a ghost. Isn't the blood a brilliant touch? And while I love sissy's hood, it's her killer expression that makes me want to drop dead. This is 2005.

Brother1's first time dressing up! At a year old, I believe, this is him as Super Baby. Dear Sister and I had AWESOME costumes this time around (we scared poor little kids on accident, they were so cool); me as a Ghost Bride, and she as a vampire in 2006. We switched our costumes from the last year, if you note.

Though I looked great as Medusa, the monster from Greek Mythology, getting the snakes out of my hair was a brutal, brutal memory I won't ever forget. But isn't Dear Sister just the cutest li'l witch you ever did see? She comes with a bumble bee, too!

You long-time readers should remember this one! My first Halloween on blogger, 2008, when I went as a Harpy (not a blackbird), again from Greek Mythology. Everyone else had chicken pox at the time (though I was soon to follow), so I was the only one who dressed up this time around.

This year ROCKED. Brother1 as Indiana Jones, myself as Anna Bolena, or Anne Boleyn, or Nan Bullen, Queen of England and my personal hero, Daddy as a Man in Black, Mommy as Donna Noble from Doctor Who, and Dear Sister as a Genie. Awesome, eh?

Myself, as Cinderella, last Halloween at 2009. This costume came out beautifully, I think, and that dress is one of my favorites.

That's it, I guess. Thanks for stopping by and reading - happy, happy, Halloween!

My Favorite Original Characters

You wouldn't believe how many original characters I have floating around, and once I discovered role playing – well, let’s just say that doubled. I love them all with a tender passion like I'd love my own children – even my villains – , but I'm a horrible parent and apparently have favorites:

Lyla Alden, previously known as the Sinister Psychologist. An ex rich girl, she had virtually no social interaction as a little girl– her parents being fairly neglectful since they were really too busy for a child in the first place. She grew up around a few expensive tutors learning French, Math, History, and Science. Lyla passed the time watching people; watching her parents' parties, watching the household servants interact, watching how people gossiped, praised, manipulated, loved, fought, and cried. Unfortunately, as she hadn't actually done any of these things herself, when she finally made what Lyla refers to as her 'debutante appearance' (a twelve year old decked up in mother's makeup waltzing in stiletto heels on her parents' party uninvited) she came out stilted and awkward, and to this day hasn't been able to fix that. Sure, she practiced in front of the mirror for hours saying please and thank you, and if you ever meet a person that can smile wider than Lyla I'll give you a million dollars*, but she gives the impression of a moving Barbie doll dripping with sadism. She's so completely over-the-top polite and statically happy that she achieves exactly the opposite affect for which she was hoping. (As I once wrote in reference to Miss Alden: Her voice was cream floating in coffee, crystals of sugar dancing to the bottom. Her voice slid into your ears and gripped at your mind, twisting you from the inside out.) The affect she does achieve, however, is probably much more suiting. Lyla isn't a 'nice girl'. The human mind fascinates her; she loves the way it works and - even more - loves watching it crumble. But if you need a counselor and don't mind mental trauma along the way to sanity, she's your best bet. Sinister she may be, but she's also one of the best psychologists out there.

Theodore Rosefelt (yes, he was named in mock reference and honest tribute to a famous former president), or Farmer Ted, or the guy rolling his eyes in the corner before getting the job done and acerbically working out whatever argument he was rolling his eyes at. Teddy is a born and bred farmer (an acrobat, too!) and proud of this, but he doesn't act like stereotype would suggest. He isn't jolly or simple or even friendly. In fact he's sardonic, crabby, and a real pain in the neck. He's one of the snappiest average Joe's out there, and frankly kind of scary when you irk him. Despite all this, Theodore is loyal, loving, awfully clever, HORRIBLY witty, and a good person if you cut his chest open and take a good look at the very center of his heart. He had a tendency to feel fatherly towards people and then beat himself up about it, and is a 'family man' despite himself. This really surprised him since it seemed so inconsistent with what he knew about himself so before. But that's Teddy in a word: inconsistent. He's crabby and sardonic, but clipped and polite. He's quiet and observant, but rash and wild. He can lash out madly like a whip and later just sit quietly making a comment or two when he thinks it’s really necessary. Ted is very clever and pretty subtle in his emotions, but when he does feel he becomes completely caught up in the anger or joy and becomes absolutely, positively irrational. He's somewhat bipolar, terrified of death (though he hardly ever brings it up; it's kind of a quiet fear), and a little bit crazy. Theodore would let the world go to flames to keep himself and those he loves safe, but he loves more strongly and completely than could ever be put to words.

Emily Ana “Phoenix” Shifter, the spunky sweet firegirl. Named for her mother, Emily prefers to go by the stage name she uses when she performs with fire. It's one of her favorite things to do – grab a few sticks, rub 'em together with a match or two and dance around flaring with them. She does so for tips and performs at birthdays and parties when she can as she has absolutely no idea what she wants to do with her life – beyond opening a bakery, but the idea of settling down in one place like that rather frightens her, no matter how perfect her Shifterian Chocolate Chip Cookies may be. Phoenix is sharp as a tack, perky, bouncy, witty, open and buoyant. She is everything light and happy, completely optimistic in nature and a great sufferer of wanderlust with a longing for adventure. She's a terribly oblivious romantic at heart, and has a tendency to see the best in everything – sometimes over idealizing what something is to the point of heart break when she learns what is wasn't. Despite that setback, she sees the good in everyone and plays at it, drawing it out and brightening the world (both metaphorically and literally) wherever she goes. Phoenix has a temper she works really hard to keep a handle on, but if someone really pushes her buttons she'll go kind of crazy (word of advice: don't call her cute, don't call her 'Fifi', and don't you dare hurt someone she cares about). She's good at martial arts, knows how to hold a sword and can use it adequately (her father makes replicas of old-time weaponry and she couldn't resist goofing around with them a little. She can actually make sloppy swords if she words hard at it – all the heat and fire appeals to her – and is real good at making simple repairs), plays the flute, and is a bit of an acrobat. On the other side of things, she is one of the worst singings to ever curse the poor helpless Earth, thick crowds make her panic (especially indoors) and she hates being wet or cold. Overall Phoenix is just a kind hearted girl who wants to have a good time and really needs to find herself fast before she grows up and is still stuck performing on the streets. She's actually Theodore's granddaughter in my head - and she has a tendency to act snarky like him when annoyed – , but I doubt it'll ever come up in whatever story she features.

Fredric, or Freddy, or Fred, or the cheerful bloke Dear Sister gets a kick out of. The son of a sailor who is often off on his trips, he cherishes every moment he has with his family together. A bit of a sailor himself on occasion, Fredric loves nothing like the sea - endless and wild and lovely. He's jovial and light, always with a joke (though not always a particularly good one, he certainly seems to find them funny) and a bright smile on hand. Fred locks grief - when he ever feels it, which is rare - underneath his cheer, preferring to pretend everything is exactly the same as it was before and act accordingly. He's loyal and determined, though so easy going it's easy to sway him in his opinions - unless, of course, you're talking about someone he cares for, in which case Fredric is stuck as a boot in mud and no amount of pulling will make him budge. Near impossible to irritate but rather childish when he is such. Fred can get quite cold on occasion, particularly if he feels like someone is prodding underneath the happy-go-lucky exterior which is honestly his heart ninety percent of the time. Not particularly clever or particularly slow – he honestly doesn’t think about thinking most of the time –, he’s an excellent horseback rider and just a pleasant person to be around.

Phew! That took forever, heheh. But hey, I had fun writing it. Anyhow, these are some all-time favorites out of my characters. I hope you enjoyed reading about them as much as I enjoy writing about them.

Family Matters

These are some characters I invented and know very, very well – Phoenix Shifter, the spunky sweet country girl who can spout fire at will, and Theodore Rosefelt, her grandfather the snarky farmer. He's also a vampire (Ted was converted after Phoenix was born, so she isn’t ‘part vampire’ or anything like that) who seems only 25 in appearance, so that leads to confusion. He's also rather childish in a bratty sort of way and half mad due to traumatic events. But oh well. I love them both to death and this is a quick glimpse into their family life before Phoenix grew up (which is when I normally write her). I probably won't ever make a real book about either character, but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun, does it now? ;-)

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It is a well known fact that animosity can kindle amongst even the happiest families – especially family by marriage (exempli gratia, the Red Headed Stepchild, the Wicked Stepmother, THE INLAWS(1)). However, when disaster strikes, even those who are less than cordially inclined with one another must band together – because, when it comes right down to it, they are family, and that’s all that really matters. Even when disaster is a lovesick firegirl who doesn’t know better.

“Theodore, I…” Emily curled her lips around her teeth, twisting her tongue and attempting to continue. The elder raised a brow at his daughter-in-law, sitting up on the counter of her(2) tiny kitchenette curiously. The family chef, mentally sighing in relief at the familiar ground and excuse to snap, fumed(3). “Get off the counters – what are you, six? Molly hasn’t been up there for years.”

Teddy – resisting temptation and avoiding conflict (only so he could get her to continue, of course) – slipped off the shelf. “Yes m’am. It’s sixty, actually. You were saying?” he answered flatly.

Sighing again – this time in anxiety – Emily continued. “I need your advice.”

The words hung in the air for a while.

“I’ll be glad to answer any questions of a parental nature,” Theo prodded. “I’ve dealt with three of the monstrous things, after all. Worse than vampires.”

“You’re telling me? Your children moved out years ago and made ones of their own. I’m the one dealing with the things. And by complaining about vampires you are complaining about yourself, aren’t you?”

“I can complain about myself if I want, can’t I? You wouldn’t believe how hard it is living with me.” Emily started to concede adamantly, but Ted interrupted. “You’re stalling.”

Another sigh. “Phoenix is…” she trailed off again, tugging angrily at her black locks in annoyance. “She’s…”

“Forgetting her chores?”

“Yes. But that’s not the causal issue. There’s more to it.”

“Do continue.”

“She’s also… singing, though that’s not the fact of the matter either.”

Teddy paled – as much as a vampire can pale, anyhow. He managed a purplish hue to his grayish skin. “Not singing. Not her.”

Right on cue, a loud, out of tune, more shout-like than musical chant reminiscent of a cat in a blender or nails on a chalk board echoed through the windows as fifteen year old Phoenix Shifter began skipping towards home from her father’s forge. Mother and grandfather flinched in the horrible racket.

“Go on,” he hissed through a scrunched face.

“It gets worse,” Emily assured. “She keeps Molly up all night talking.”

“That can’t really be avoided, can it?” Theodore put in. “They get on, they share a bed, Phoenix is a gabby young lady – of course they’ll talk. That’s not even close to as bad as her attempting to sing.”

“But she talks all night long. And that’s not the bad part – there’s a reason behind all of this. She only talks about – ”

“Carl!” Phoenix chimed, crashing through the front door with her arms spread wide and a foolish, loony grin plastered over her childish face. Being a teenager, having rounded features and small eyes didn’t really give the desired sense of maturity. The poor girl actually looked cute – a fact of which she was horribly aware. At least she had her fire. She would die if it weren’t for the dear flames Phoenix could somehow conjure at will – of that much she was certain.

“What now, girl?” Emily groaned.

“He smiled at me yesterday, Mommy! He smiled!” the young girl’s arms swept across her heart as she goggled at the thatched roof none too far above her grandfather’s head. Then she noticed her grandfather’s head. “Hi there, Gramps!”

Theodore, having the self restraint to keep his jaw up, gaped with the sheer incredulousness of his eyes alone. They flicked to Emily, who cocked her head in affirmation. Even if that weren’t so, Phoenix’s emotions sprang out in an obnoxiously clear fashion loud enough for the vampires in the next kingdom to hear –let alone the grandfather who had been there her entire life.

His granddaughter was in love. His Emily Ana “Phoenix” Shifter (should be Rosefelt, the damn stubborn mother’s-last-name-taking child) was attracted to and dreamy over some boy who made her feel fluttery enough to sing. Being overprotective even of his son, the idea of his granddaughter – who seemed just yesterday to have been a little babe cooing at flickering fire – romantically attached to someone was sickening.

So you want her to stop spending time with this Carl boy? he asked his daughter-in-law with a quick tilt of the head (tolerating one another for years had its benefits).

Of course. But I’d prefer it if the girl would only get back on top of her chores; Molly and I can’t take care of everything ourselves(4), Emily conveyed crabbily, folding her arms and sticking out a hip as she glared at her daughter.

Phoenix dimmed in confusion, wondering why everyone wasn’t as happy as she was.

Teddy barely kept form rolling his eyes at his daughter-in-law’s narrow-mindedness, but he had more important things to think about. Like his granddaughter being in love. I’ve got it covered, then.

I just want advice. I can take care of this myself, Emily sniffed.

I’ve got it covered, he repeated with a quick nod.

In a flash he snapped up his Phoenix’s long red braid and pulled hard. His granddaughter called out angrily as he started dragging her across what passed for a room (it was far too tiny to be a living room or a kitchen OR a dining room, but the Shifter-Rosefelts used it for all three) towards the rickety door.

Emily’s eyes widened. “Release my daughter this instant, Theodore! I will not stand for horseplay in my house!”

“Fine them, Emily.” He slipped out the front entry – a shrieking, irate, fiery Phoenix in tow.

“You bloody monster- let me go- what are you doing?!- LET GO OF MY HAIR!” she screeched.

Theodore was about to roll his eyes when she flamed up, making him leap back. “Emily!” he called out, glaring at the blisters forming where her fire had licked his skin.

“UUUGH!!” Phoenix stomped, fists clenched. “Don’t you ever, ever, ever touch my hair again!”

Theodore, shaking off how unsettled the fire made him feel, managed a shrug. “I just wanted to tell you that I completely support your possible relationship with this Edward and you are very welcome, in my opinion, to spend time with him whenever. Oh, and your mother’s bugging me. Please skip your chores to annoy her,” he added.

“UUUGH!” Phoenix repeated, before stalking off angrily to weed her mother’s herbal garden. Before she made it, she whirled around: “And it’s Carl! The only Edward I know is stuck up and rude.” Reminds me of someone, she thought haughtily.

Teddy wiped off his hands in nervous satisfaction as she steamed away, wondering how many more times that trick would work before she (a) caught on or (b) burned him to a pile of ash. Because of this pondering, he missed the looming cloud of Emily until the hard slap hit his face, bringing him back to reality.

“I don’t know how you ran things in your family, but this is mine, Rosefelt, and I don’t care if you’re nineteen or a 102 - you will do as I say under my roof or with my children,” she snarled vehemently, glaring something terrible.

Theodore, one hand to his stinging cheek, wisely refrained from mentioning the two or three snide remarks bouncing around his head. Instead, he only pointed delicately to the literally fuming Phoenix doing her chores in the garden. Emily, not having the restraint of her father-in-law, dropped her jaw. She slapped him again before marching inside and slamming the door.

Ted found himself questioning his family’s taste in romantic partners, which eventually started him pondering whether or not Phoenix would ever forgive him if he scared this Carl out of town. Should be easy enough, with the teeth and all. That’s when, under the glint of lovely moonlight, quiet Christopher came out of his forge and started towards the garden.

“Hi, Dad,” he greeted softly.

“Our(5) Emily is in love.”

“I know. She was singing in the forge,” Christopher smiled. “You should listen to her talk about him. It sounds straight out of one of those romance novels my Emily always tells me about.”

“You’re all right with this atrocity?” Theodore blinked.

“Hell no. But it’s just a crush; it’ll pass.”

Teddy ran a hand through his scraggly red hair in annoyance. “Damn waiting. I hate waiting. They say you’re supposed to get patient with age. I just get this rushing feeling. Like I need to keep fighting because every second I have is something stolen, something I shouldn’t. Like I’m supposed to be dead and gone by now.”

“Lots of people live passed your age – immortal or not,” Chris assured gently, tinges of worry crossing his bearded face.

“I don’t want to die. I don’t plan on dying. Not ever, not if I can help it. Death is what I’m afraid of.”

“Daaaaaaaaa-dddddddddddddy!” wailed a voice from a nearby tiny window in Christopher’s tiny, tiny cottage. A pretty face framed with short black hair and bangs peered through the shutters, slightly panicked. “Daddy there’s a spider! And a cobweb!”

Christopher shrugged at his father, who managed a weak smile, before jogging off to the window to rescue his little Molly. Ted, taking a deep breath, trudged over to Phoenix with his hands in his pockets, mindful of Emily’s herbs (if only to keep from being slapped again).

“Hi, Phoenix,” he said, calling her by her preferred name to get on her good side. She shot him a nasty look and stuck out her tongue before continuing her work. He rolled his eyes before remembering what he came here for and sitting down beside her. “I’m a might mad. Not mad mad. Crazy mad. Due to that, I act a little oddly.”

“I know,” Phoenix grumbled.

He coughed awkwardly before shoving out the words as fast as possible. They mixed up and tumbled incomprehensibly, but it was supposed to be along the lines of: “I’m sorry for pulling your hair.”

She ignored him, flicking her red, orange, and golden hair (tied up in a loose braid) over her shoulder crabbily. He ruffled haughtily before continuing.

“But you did get it from me, didn’t you? So technically it’s mine,” Theo added flatly.

Phoenix shot upright from her weeding, scandalized. “I inherited my hair from my father, Grandpa! Not you.”

Teddy shrugged. “And he got it from me before that.”

“But it’s on my head!”

“Which you also got from me, judging by how stubborn you are.”

Phoenix rolled her eyes.

“And that, too,” Ted pointed out triumphantly. “I do that all the time.”

“I don’t go around pulling people’s hair.”

“You don’t, eh? I said I was sorry.”

She huffed. “I wouldn’t ever forgive you if your anniversary(6) wasn’t coming up. You get horrible then.” Ted shut up, folding his long fingers together as his eyes shot down. Phoenix sighed. “I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again.”

“Rosefelt! Phoenix!” Emily’s loud voice called. “The tarts are ready!”

Heads flipping to one another with excited grins, grandfather and granddaughter raced into the house and nearly knocked over the rickety nightstand that passed as a table in their hurry to sit. Emily sighed and served up the family – including Theodore, Phoenix, Molly, Christopher, and herself. Mouths watered until the woman of the house sat and took her first bite, allowing everyone else to dig into the pure delicacies.

“I simply love it, Mommy,” Molly cooed. Emily gave her daughter a quick smile.

“I think it’d be a bit better with a tad less sugar; it’s not quite tart enough for a tart,” Phoenix put in. “But it’s definitely divine.”

Emily glared at her eldest, Teddy and Christopher being too busy eating to talk.

Of course, looking back on the opening paragraph, sometimes families just go to hell no matter what you do. But they manage. Because in the end they’re family, and they’re stuck loving one another

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(1)No more need be said.

(2)Despite being built by Christopher’s own hands, there was absolutely zero doubt as to whether or not his wife was the soul wielder of anything with culinary uses – no matter how good Phoenix was getting.

(3)Not nearly so literally as her daughter could, however.

(4)Emily had an odd complex where she felt anything she didn’t see someone do was something they didn’t actually do (at least according to her subconscious). Christopher did all his work in the forge, Theodore did all his work in his fields, and Phoenix usually liked to help out the men of the household, while Molly did everything with her mother. Because of this, Emily came out thinking everyone besides herself and her youngest daughter were lazy do-nothings. This led to complications.

(5)Theodore had troubles with Phoenix’s nickname. Her name was Emily, even be it her mother’s as well. She should be called by it, gosh darnnit. So when he spoke possessively of an Emily, it was always his granddaughter, and whenever he spoke of the original Shifter – the one who had convinced his Emily to take on a foreign family name – it was 'your'.

(6)This would be another anniversary as a widower for Theodore. He was immortal, yes, but the one woman he ever loved hadn’t been.

The Three Scariest People In the World

Hello, everyone!

Today I am posting about the three scariest people in the world—or at least the three scariest people in the world to me. Here they are, in order of most frightening (the scariest first, least scary last):

Jonathon Teatime
(pronounced teh-ah-tim-eh)

A fictional assassin from a book by Terry Pratchett called Hogfather and a movie by the same name. He is a villain that is... so creepy. He makes chills run down my spine, and when I walk down the halls at night I always check for him and that devil-quick knife of his. He's cheerful, and has this way of moving faster than the eye. First he's behind you, then in front of you, then... anywhere. No words can really describe how terrifying I find him. I’ve had nightmares of him. Literally!

Yet at the same time, he is hysterical in both book and movie (while being more frightening than anything... odd combo, eh?) and makes some of the funniest comments throughout (though a few Death—not the state of being, the anthropomorphic personification—makes definitely beat him). I'm glad I've seen/read the story/movie, in fact they’re some of my favorites, but... he’s so terrifying!!!

Sylar

(or Gabriel Gray)

This fear is from the television show Heroes. You might know the actor as Spock from Star Trek, but before that he was Sylar, a psychokiller with super-powers who goes around killing other people with super powers in the most brutal ways and stealing their powers. His natural power is to see when things are broken, see how to fix them, and have the need to know. He was a watch maker/fixer before he… started killing people.

I'm more afraid of Teatime, but I'd much rather be killed by him than Sylar. With Teatime you see him, then in a flash you’re dead. Or you don't even see him. Or you drive him in a coach to the Tooth Fairy's castle and then he kills you. Either way, it's (usually—or rather, if you aren’t a dog or a maid or a butler before his superior told him his way of working ‘lacked elegance’) quick and clean. Not so with Sylar—he's brutal.

Dear Sister After You’ve Messed With (sometimes including looking at) Her Stuff

(she wouldn’t let me take a picture of her. Just imagine a beautiful, pale-faced girl with huge brown eyes open really, really wide and her lips pursed and her face glaring at you with a fire you’d only imagine in the depths of the most fiery pits of eternal damnation, yet still with the coldness of the darkest, snowiest winter, wrapping your soul and very being with ice)

Yep, my best friend, my dear love, my baby sister is one of my greatest fears. It's not the glare that's scary—it’s what comes after it!

Well, there you go; my three greatest fears in life (in the form of people, at least). Who are yours?

Galaxy

Death

When someone you love dies, you'll never get over it. I don't understand all those movies and books about 'moving passed' death... you can accept it, understand it as a fact and irreversible, even live your life, but you'll always have that emptiness, always have that grief.

Some days it's worse than others... some days you'll feel like you are going to be swallowed by a pit of despair and loneliness without the person you've lost. Some days you can almost pretend it never happened; you can almost forget... but it's still there, somewhere inside you.

It's something like if every night you hear the ticking of a clock; at first it's loud and clear, but after days upon days you can tune it out; it's still there though, and you can still hear it.

So you can ignore death, you can live your life and be happy, but you can never 'move passed' the loss of someone you love. They will always be part of you, and you will never forget.


Galaxy

BOOM!--a Dream Post

I was in our back yard, then this silver, round-edged box fell from the sky. It was very large, around four times the size of a smallish TV. There was a screen on one edge with numbers counting down, but I wasn't fully aware of them. The beeping, however was very prominent.

Then Daddy was next to me, and he said the Chinese had dropped a bomb--the silver box. We just had the bad luck of having the backyard it landed in. Not that that makes a difference.

All the sudden Dad was gone, and it was like he had never been there. I started freaking out... I really didn't want to die; which was kind of surprising, since normally I don't fear death. I guess when you're facing it it's a little different.

So I ran; there's a door in my fence and that's the way I went. I hadn't gone two feet outside it when I remember that Dear Sister was still inside, and how could I possibly leave without her? I turned back, feeling terribly guilty and frightened. And then it was like she had never been there.

I really didn't know what to do... finally, I just curled up in a ball, my face in our grass. So I closed my eyes, my face in soft, green grass and prepared to die. I really thought it was real. It just felt so real. And then...

It stopped ticking.

I would love to end my post like that; it sounds so dramatic and cool. I'd love to tell you how I felt dieing, but I can't--because that's all that happened. It stopped ticking--and nothing happened!

Then I woke up.

I just had to post this because it was so... real. I really thought I was going to die. I was hoping that maybe someone would know what it means. The only thing I can think of is that I'm freaking out about something that is no big deal; making a mountain out of a mole hill... that sort of thing.

It's good to be alive!


Galaxy

Bless This Final Day--a Tribute to Anne Boleyn

Hi! It's Galaxy again after an age-long posting break... I'm just not as into blogging as I used to be. Anyways, the reason I'm posting is because I'm obsessed with a certain woman from history called Anne Boleyn.
I'm facinated with her, and I think she was a good person who led a very tragic life from the information I have. I've been searching for a book about her, recently found one (The Lady in the Tower) and decided to write a poem about her sad tale. It's nothing epic, but here, read it and see what you think. Please, please, please comment your opinion!

Bless This Final Day
A Tribute to Anne Boleyn

There was a day,
I loved a man,
Gentle and Kind,
There was a day,
The man loved me,
And swore to be mine,

There was a day,
When Jealous Man,
Took mine away,
There was a day,
When Jealous Man,
Dearest love did He say,

There was a day,
When I was strong,
Before He led me astray,
There was a day,
Before hope was gone,
That I turned Him away,

“Pray find another, if you can,
Leave alone now loveless Anne.”

Accurse that blasted day.

There was a day,
Where I did run,
Away from Court and King,
To country home,
To be alone,
From the Man who so hunts me,

There was a day,
That He held fast,
I was now a newfound task,
And as hard as I would try and plea,
He would not turn from me,

There was a day,
When I gave way,
As He led me astray,
There was a day,
Before hope was gone,
That I accepted His love-say

“Pray, stay, if you can,
Stay with e’er faithful Anne…”

Accurse that blasted day.

There was a day,
When I was His,
But my own love,
I could not give,
There was a day,
I was with He,
For the love He promised me,

There was a day,
When He grew bored,
With the maid I was,
There was a day,
He turned away,
From the one He once dreamed of,

There was a day,
When I was wise,
After He led me astray,
My mind could not wrap around,
That the reason He once could love me,
Then not, could not be found,

“Pray explain, if you can,
Why betray your faithful Anne?”

Accurse that blasted day.

There was a day in my great fury,
I screamed atop my lungs,
There was a day,
When Faithless Man,
Knew he was done,

There was a day,
When Faithless Man,
Found another bride,
There was a day,
When his adultery,
He did no longer hide,

There was a day,
When I could fight,
I tried to win Him out,
There was a day,
He locked me away,
And I could do ought but shout,

“Pray, tell me, if you can,
Why leave your faithful Anne?”

Accurse that blasted day.

There was a day,
That Faithless Man,
Locked me in the Dark,
There was a day,
When I would think,
Of the man who first took my heart…

“Pray, forgive me, if you can,
You still have love from stolen Anne.”

Now is the day,
At last, today,
Of my own last breath,
All I ask is to remember my life,
And pray for my swift death.

Pray for me, if you can,
Pray for your doomed Anne…

Bless this, my final day.

Thanks for reading!


Galaxy

If I was going to die...

I don't know why, but I've been thinking about how I would feel and what I would do if I found out I was going to die.

When I first found out about it, I would probably be quite shocked at first, then I'd cry for a while, then I'd realize that if I'm going to die soon, I'd better have the best time of my life RIGHT NOW.

My number one worry would be how sad my family would be when I was gone, so I'd probably spend a lot of time trying to convince them not to worry. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to die, I want to live to 154 and see my great grandkids, but I'm not scared of death... I'm actually sort of looking forwards to the rest after a hopefully long and happy life.

I'd probably type Kings of Darkness up like crazy... I'd have to condense all the four books I plan to write into one, and I might not even finish that in time. I would probably ask Dear Sister to finish it for me.

Another worry of mine is that Brother1 and 2 wouldn't remember me. That would devastate me. I'd want to be a part of their life... Someone that they would love and adore and remember forever. Brother1 would probably remember me a bit, but #2...

Anyways, what got me thinking of this? I don't know. But, I'm definitely glad I'm going to live!


Galaxy