Hell Frozen Rain July M.E

[fluffy]

Hell Frozen Rain
July 1st-31st

In your mind's eye lives a memory
Hard to find, blinded by sorrow
And her cold voice sings a melody
Hear her sing, hell frozen rain falls down

She can't hear your voice.
She can't hear you call
You have burned your choice
If you're here, can you prove you're really here?

[/i][/color]

Motor oil, passing cars, the sounds of shovel on ground, that rings out in a rainy night, muffled voices shouting from beyond a door, the skipping of the heart with every step taken closer. The sting and red flesh... The fear that shakes through the body as an attacker looms over, with the stare of hate in their eyes.

Memories. They are strange and sometimes return at the weirdest of times. When you find yourself happy, things seem to be able to reverse themselves, leaving you with so many different emotions. It's a wonder how it happens, well more like why. Why do people remember things, when the slightest thing conjures up feelings. The memories held deary and perhaps those pushed into the back of one's mind, always seem to resurface at any given time...Kind of. Fate is weird with the hand it deals people, but it all shows how someone can grow. Kind of like a series of tests to create whoever they will be, by showing them the good, the bad, and the ugly. Maybe not even all of them.

Although one has to wonder, why deal some people worse cards?

The wonderful past, the horrible past, or whatever you'd like to call it.. is nothing more than a constant reminder that hangs heavy on your chest in times of hardship, joy, trial. Constantly dragging a persons mind into the blackness or even the light. What makes people question things and long to redo events?

"If I was stronger."

"Had I been there."

"If she wasn't alone."

"Had I only gone with him..."

"If I didn't walk that path."

Would I still be who I am today?

Would they still be here?

Would I have a home?

Things wouldn't have changed, would they?

I'd still be me? Wouldn't I?

Had things gone better, perhaps I'd have turned into a better person.

I'm thankful things went so well, it helped me learn and made me smile...

So many things can be said about events of the past, so many regret them, fear it, and some don't. What happened, happened, and try as you might, letting go can be difficult, sometimes even impossible.Time and time again you'll find yourself thinking about it again and again. But remember, don't let the past hold you down and keep you from growing.

Look forward and smile to the future, mold it with your hands and remember. The person you are today is result of the good, bad, and ugly. Cherish the good and don't let the bad weigh you down.[/ul]

Everything is wrong
This is not my home, is it?
Do I know your face?
Does my mind wish to forget?

A toast to lonely souls
Who never could take control of life
And all the missing we love
I hope the darkness they find will give them light

In your mind's eye lives a memory
Hard to find, blinded by pain
And a cold voice sings a melody
Hear it sing, hell frozen rain

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How To:

• Pick three memories all from a different age.[ex: 5,13,19. Depending on your character's age]
  
• Post in this thread

Requirements:

• The good, bad, and ugly! You can use any memories you want to show to us, but try and mix it up. Does everyone only have darkness in their minds?
  
• Post must be 1000 words!
  
• The post must take you through a full day.
  
• Have things clue your character in about the memories... or at least give a reason why they are reminiscing.
  
• How does your character feel about the past?
  

Prizes:

• $300
  
• +3 Exp
  
• Memory Elixir
  • +5 Wis for 1 thread
    
  • Memories are explicitly clear during this thread
  
  

[/font]

[Donovan Green]

Donovan was home by himself this night… no woman to keep him company and no friends to do the same, but in a rather different manner. Having a quiet place to oneself really gets the mind running. He found himself sitting on his beat up couch holding the very few photos he had possessed. His parents were never big on taking pictures of their children… Why should they? They hated them… so yeah… What pictures they had were take by others. This picture was a day at the park. A nice woman took it….

-Six-Years-Old: If Life were Like T.V-

I was six… early seven and I was sitting in the grass with Lex and Livi who had just turn eight. I remember we were arguing over which characters we would be in a cartoon we would love to watch before mom and dad woke up on a Sunday morning. I was lucky because I always got the character I wanted me being the boy. So it was more Lex and Livi having a little squabble about the character they had both found interest. While they bickered on and on my eyes wondered around. If I can recall my mother was sitting under the tree with a lit cigarette. She had brought us there or a front and to hide the suspicion of any abuse that had occurred at home. I think she was telling the unfortunate tail of how Olivia broke her leg that previous weekend. According to her she was being careless and fell out of a tree she had been climbing. I knew better not to object stating it was none other than our fathers fault (I didn’t want any broken limbs for myself).

I turned back to see that Olivia had one the battle over the character with both a guilt trip over her broken leg and a noble game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. We then ventured to the play ground of course Lexi and I were not being mindful for our currently crippled sister. While I played with Lexi atop the play ground where Olivia couldn’t climb.. She was down playing in the wood chips with an older boy who was about ten. He was much taller than me and the twins… And well… just like any other kid Olivia started getting frustrated with the boy because he kept making fun of her pig tails and leg cast.

“My sister says they are pretty! You are just a big poopy head!” She would stick her tongue out and the boy would push her… I remember getting so mad and jumping off the jungle-gym to approach him while Alexis tended to their crying sister.

“Oh look! Limpy has a dweeb-clone! Ha-ha! And she has four eyes!” My fists were in tight little balls… I remember hearing Alexis off to the side…

“Donnie… We can just go play over there… Leave us alone!” I didn’t listen… I should of, but something in my wanted to defend my two older sisters. I just threw a punch right into the kid’s eye. He cried to his mother who just so happened to be the one talking to ours… Now our mom was furious… and the next thing I know she was storming over to me… What did I do?

“Lexi told me to do it!” it was something all three of us did… Just so we can avoid the beating… so at an extent we forgave each other for fending for ourselves….but hated each other for it. Later that night I remember going into Alexis and Olivia’s bedroom… I approached the bed to see a beaten Alexis still whimpering… She had been dealt with when Olivia and I had been sent to bed. I felt bad and I wanted to calm her down so her crying would anger dad… and before I went back into my room…

“Thank you, Donnie…” she thanked me for sticking up for her and Olivia.

--------------------------

Donovan sighed as he put the picture aside and then laughed when he saw the next one. He was dressed up in a tee-shirt that was meant to look like a tuxedo and he was at a dance with a girl he had a huge crush on.

-13-years-old: Fuck Puberty -

I was lanky and had just gotten rather tall.. I was the tallest in my class and I started growing peach fuzz on my face. No body had hit puberty except me and maybe two other boys and a small handful of girls. Some girls liked that I was able to grow facial hair, some weren’t used to the fact…. And some just didn’t like the acne that was growing on my face at the time. Well, it was our dance and no girls or boys had asked anyone for a date… we all kind of just went with a handful of friends… Though they all were stumped when a slow song came on. It was like all the boys gravitated to one side and the girls the other… Some boys had the courage to ask a girl to dance with them. I was one of them. I asked Jessica. I always had a crush on her and I was slouched and awkward still… She said yes. I put my hands on her hips and she put her hands atop my shoulders… there was at least five inches between the two of us give or take. A teacher came by with a Polaroid camera snapping pictures and she took two, giving one to both of us. As I went to go put mine in my pocket my hand grazed Jessica’s newly umm… sprouting…um… booby. When I did this I fumbled over my apology and held my hand up to hold her breast as if to steady her if she were about to fall.. I knew you weren’t supposed to do it, but it was a reflex as if I were to grab onto her arm… Then I freaked right out to the point I froze, my hand still on her chest. She fumed at me and slapped me across the face… I stood there and everyone was laughing at me for doing what I did. I remember running to the bathroom tripping over myself… when I got into the bathroom and looked down… I realized that wasn’t the only thing they were laughing at…
-----------------------------

He set the photo aside with a small chuckle. It embarrassed him even now to think about it. He had gotten a lot more smooth since then which was good. Last he picked up his Point Hope Student I.D.

-fifteen-years-old: The mistake-

I think I came home from exercising at the school gym. Yeah…I was in a wife beater drenched in my sweat and out of breath…. After all that working out I was pumped and very energetic. When I got home… I saw blood on the floor. It was a normal occurrence, but it never failed to strike fear into my mind… I remember I was really scared, because it had been dad’s day off and Livi was home sick and Alexis was off in Alaska serving some time for the crimes she had committed… so Olivia was home alone with dad. Not only all this… it seemed different… It was quiet. I rampaged through the house trying to look for her when I found my dad in the bathroom wrapping up his bloody knuckles.

“Where is Olivia…” I remember thinking right then and there he killed her.. Though he finally killed her… until he answered half heartedly

“Out back… She was bleeding all over the carpet… Reckon she will have to clean that up before your mother gets home. She will be pissed.. Maybe you should do it, boy?” if he was getting asked to do it,.it only meant that it might not be likely Olivia would be able to do it soon enough… so I ran out back to check on her… She had been passed out… her skin cold.. I was afraid for her life… I hurried her to the hospital…I was full of rage.. I returned home and stood in front of my dad whom was sitting watching the news…. That’s when I picked him up by his shirt and threw him into the wall. He was a lot bigger than me…. And he got a lot of works beating on me and Olivia…so I was quite crazy for doing this… but I fought him… I suppose mom got home and saw the brawl through the window and called the cops.

I was blamed for beating my sister and my father… My mother as the witness… I was shipped off to Alaska without being able to say bye to my sister… I wish I had gotten help rather than turn to violence…
--------------------

Donovan rubbed at his temples….. He set down all three pictures and pushed them off to the side where he wouldn’t be able to see them. He could have avoided all those situations… but he didn’t…He wish he did… Could have had Lexi if they hadn’t pushed her away for making the blame land on her… Donovan wouldn’t be so disrespectful towards women if he wasn’t so humiliated… Olivia would have been alive if she had her brother to protect her…. But now.. The past was the past… and nothing could be changed… he was who he was because of it and hopefully he learned something…

Word count: 1582 without colour code.

[Brian Andeste]

Brian wasn't one to reflect on many past events. His fathers death, his mothers basic desertion of her son. Girlfriends whose lives went down utterly different paths than his own. Things he really felt no need to dwell on. Still,there was one particular day, when he was but five years of age, that really stuck out in his mind. Why? Because it was the first of three times he had ever seen his mother cry.

The Volatile crack of lightning whips overhead, searing the clouds and sky with its fury. Men move about the ship like ants, the dull roar of the waves around them drowning out the cries of a man standing at the front of the ship, calling out orders. Long stretches of rope lash about, the mast creaking under the strain of the turbulent undersides, the howling with tearing through the cloth like tissue paper. No sound of bird can be heard- the storm had slammed around them with a suddenness that even the age-tested, weather hardened fishermen couldn't even believe. You could hear the terror in their voices, could feel the tremor as they screamed for someone to save them.

His mother was a Christian, once. She brought them to church every weekend, Sunday, the day that God had set aside for them to celebrate the birth and crucifixion of Jesus Christ. On this particular service, the Pastor had chose to be overwhelmingly boring, and so Brian had a few of his toys to occupy his mind. He built with Lego's, and loved doing Rubik's cubes. He was already in the third grade, in England, and had done well in keeping up with the mental capabilities of his peers. His mother and father were proud. Smart people, they were. He didn't understand the logic behind this certain day, though. They never really gave him an acceptable reason besides that it was needed. He went with much reluctance, but he supposed that his mother could truly care a less whether he wanted it or not, so long as he was there, beside her.

"Master! Please! Save us!"

Near the back of the ship, under a small overhang where the water had not yet reached, a man slept, his arm wrapped under his head, body heavy with fatigue. His slumber was peaceful, totally oblivious to the fright that stole the hearts of these men, his companions. The ships interim Captain cried out again, sliding closer to the overhang, stumbling and being tossed about like a rag doll.

"Master! You must awake! We're going to drown!"

His eyes turned to the dull drone of the preachers mouth, watching with feigned interest as everything seemed to slow down. The heat made the mind imagine things, and he could almost see the sound waves erupting from those ordained lips. He licked his lips, returning his eyes to his puzzle, trying his best to push the words from his head.

The sleeping mans eyes opened slowly, looking up into the bearded face of his ship mate. He arose, taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes, feeling the boat quiver underneath him. He became adjusted, looking through the opening to the colossal and terribly destructive sea that surrounded this tiny vessel, baring down on it like a bulldog would a kitten. He stood, looking into the eyes of the one who woke him, a pity and mercy and question combining into one look before he walked away- straight and steady. The men stop, all staring, trying their best to hold onto what they could without being shredded from their boat and claimed by the sea. The man stood at the tip of the bow, looking out of the dark, the rain and wind smashing his face with the feeling of ice and imbalance.

His gaze shifted to his mother, who sat in rapt attention, her liquid pools of tranquil beauty fixated upon the originator of a spiritual hope. She seemed locked, more focused on the man up front than on the entertainment of her five year old son. He didn't begrudge her for it. She often sat in silence, pondering the mysteries of a far greater universe than he dared to imagine.

He lifted a hand, and spoke.

The words seemed to be spoken softly, yet it tore through the skies, piercing heaven and earth. The water wailed at its sound, and the wind froze at the power behind its voice.

"Peace! Be still."

The waves calmed, tapping gently against the side of the boat but a few more times as though to say "aw, it was just a bit of fun!", the wind ceasing to stir the moment the individual had uttered his words. The fishermen stared, each ones eyes nearly popping from his head. What kind of man could this be, that even the sea and sky heed his word?

Brian placed his toy back on the seat before sitting himself next to it, swinging his legs lightly at his eyes went back to his mom.

"Peter. John."

The man had turned back to his friends, his disciples, and looked at them each in turn.

"Where is your faith?"

His head bowed, peter steps forward.

"Forgive us Lord...we were weak."

Her tears seemed filled with a hopelessness he had yet to grasp with his adolescent mind. She feared an entity whose existence had yet to be proven, and to him it seemed overly irrational. Still, he watched without moving as she held back her racking sobs, instead letting the silent tears fall on her folded hands. It was remarkable that such emotion could be induced through the mere possibility of a salvation from death, the ultimate fear. It seemed trivial that such matters should be regarded with such a high degree of scrutiny, since he himself saw nothing wrong in the passing of life. Such was the way of the world, in his own opinion. Everything had a life, had a death, had a purpose. She seemed unable to see the good she currently had, instead, forfeiting it for a possibility that, frankly, couldn't be real.

Years passed. His eleventh birthday. His father had been gone for almost three years- away on business, they called it. He was always away, when he was alive. Never had a birthday where his dad was present. Not saying that his birthdays were constantly spent dwelling on the lack of a father, it was just something he had to get use to. Not optional, just facts. He based his life of facts. By that age, he had begun to develop in many ways, growing some hair, a strong body, and light, airy sense of humor. His grandma had brought him presents, and he was just finishing the last one when, out of no where, in walked his father. It was a wondrous surprise, for him, but a stiff shock for my mother. She was not one to expect him either.

They seemed still, offstandish, as though they didn't want to touch or hug or kiss while everyone was present. Still, Brian paid it no heed. He was just ecstatic to have his Dad back, to show him all the presents he got. For the first time in his life, on his birthday, Brian gave more attention to his father than he actually gave to his mother. It was a difficult thing for her to put up with. Brian always talked about his dad, and when he was home, would spend every waking moment with him, almost to the point that his mother felt a little left out. It wasn't like Brian had totally forgotten about her in every way, but his dad was gone for ninety percent of the year. Every child would be expected to have an amazingly high amount of energy and hope and happiness when they were forced on that kind of schedule.

Water would tap lightly on the soft forearm of his mother. Brian didn't notice, at first, turning with a big grin to show what his dad had gotten him. His smile faded when he saw those extremely rare tears, silent, and yet any who many have seen them would have thought they screamed in pain. She left the room, not bothering to look back. Brian watched her go, curious as to the emotions that seemed to surge inside of her, yet unwilling to leave the side of his father.

He was fourteen. On his way to California. His mother had spent the entire week in preparations, pulling out all the stops in order to give him the fare well party of his life. He nearly rejected such a lavish event, wanting his mom to be happy and able to spend time with only him, especially after the death of his father not a few months before. Instead, she seemed strong, stronger than ever. Able. It was a frustrating predicament that had placed him on the current charter- an order more than a trip of free will. It was as though she was trying to force him into a place where he could experience individuals of his own design, of a rightful nature. He was more confused than ever.

Still, when the time came, after the festivities, he could almost see the devotion in her eyes. Tears of happiness, of pride, seemed to well up and boil over like a dam that just couldn't hold back the flood. A kiss, a hug, and a few directions were the last words spoken between a mother and son before he left her life forever. Still, they were better than the ones exchanged between his father, an unkindness he did not wish to relive

He was unsure of why he was thinking of these things now, as he lay in bed. The memories seemed to come to him, morning, noon, and now at night, nestled under the comfortable warmth of his blankets. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes boring holes into the paint above his head, hands placed between the back of his skull and the feather-filled pillow beneath it. He guessed it all boiled down to care- months had gone into the thought behind everything, and yet months had passed since he had even given her so much as a hello. Probably resentment. A distinct disgust for her lack of emotion at the death of her husband. Maybe it was just him, but shouldn't you even care, just a little...?

He reached over, clicking off his light.

Those thoughts were better left unthunk.

Total word count: 1780

[challenger]

This is a subchapter to Chapter 1: Enter San Diego happening immediately afterward

Arc The First: In The Daylight

Chapter 1a: Broken Memories

I feel my vision burn, I feel my memories fade away, but I'm too young to worry.

I was leaning against the wall of the school, surveying, observing, considering. I looked at my wrist... still no watch, so back into my pocket I found my phone. it was now 9:36. or at least Verizon said so. I took out a cigarrette and lit it. yeah it was my second one in 2 minutes, but thats actually really good for me... I can usually go through 3 packs in a day. I still had my phone out so I began to flip through the texts I had recieved. the first was from sean.

Hey dude I've got some acid some K and a mountain of weed ima smoke you out, hit me up around 3 peace

Excellent, looks like I found my day plan in the hands of the young and the restless. the next was from that hayli girl

Hey, do you know if sean is okay?

I flipped open the phone, the little keypad laid out before me. I could only wonder how kids with big fat fingers worked these things, but luckily I was not one of them and my skinny thumbs jumped around the keyboard as easily as a frog.

Seans great, big party at 3, hit me up

I texted back quickly, a little smirk on my face. hayli had been one of the many girls that rejected me, however that wasn't going to deter me from continuing to try. there was a third text, but I recognized the number and decided to just delete it. one day my dad would understand why I didn't want to come home... either that or I'd realize what an incredible mistake it is to not spend my formative years with him. either way, no regrets. of course, thats not to say I'd never had a good time with my father, or that he isn't a good person. he is incredibly kind, and knowledgable, but he just wasn't what I needed...

***

October 13th, 2000

"Happy sixth birthday!" my parents shouted in unison. my ears rang for a moment before I got the chance to actually open my eyes. crystal clear vision was before me, before I started fucking myself up with drugs I had excellent eye sight. so I grumbled and rolled over. aren't you supposed to let someone sleep in for their birthday? either way they where here and wheren't going away. I leaned up, they where so close. my mom had that same docile look on her face, ever since she had been on medication for her bipolar disorders she always seemed a little mechanical. of course I much rathered her like that then when she came barging in one day with a knife threatening my fathers life. of course like a good holy man, as he was a pastor, he forgave his wife for having a fit of being controlled by the devil. I suddenly wondered if everyone in washington was that dumb. one would suppose that a six year old would be excited to recieve presents on their birthday, but I was far more worried about going to school again... those bullies that picked on me where simply not worth growing another year older. even if they did pick on me for all the right reasons. also idiots, if they only realized that with me on their side they could be making real money and not just stealing kids lunch money, I could make a whole system of ripping people off. I drew myself out of my greedy thoughts for a moment and followed my parents out into the living room. there where two presents, one was large, and wrapped in a box, the other was tiny, like a letter, or a card. my father handed me the card first. I got the poiunt, I'm supposed to read the card to show my appreciation for the gift, but really, what if I don't appreaciate the gift? the only way to know is if I open the gift first... right? anyhow, I opened it to see it was not a card, but actually a brochure of jiu jitsu lessons. "I signed you up for jiu jitsu cause you wanted to take self defense classes" my father said with a soft worried smile, like his heart was teetering on the edge, waiting for my happiness to push it back to safety. luckily he had managed to make me truly happy with his gift, though I had been hoping for muay thai, this would certainly do. I then looked at the big gift and then back to my father. he nodded his approval and I went to it. it was a little shorter than I was, but it was intruiging. I tore off the wrapping paper, enjoying its frailness beneath my hands to uncover a box. upon opening the box I was the beholder of a brand new gibson les paul, which had a reciept taped to it. I pulled the reciept off and noticed that it was not a reciept for the guitar, as I had originally thought, but rather a reciept for the lessons I would be starting tomorow. "Thank you... really, I really like it" I said, with honesty in my words as I looked to my dad. we smiled at each other. one of the only times we had ever shared such a moment. it was easily the happiest day of my life

***

I walked around the school, in a daze, I pulled out my phone again, was it really already 11? how do things pass so quickly when you're high? of course it was stupid to think of trivial things like that. the more important question is have I done anything useful yet? the answer of course was no. on my sixth cigarrette I started actually observing the people who went to this school, scoping out possible customers. there was a punk kid who walked by, but he didn't seem like much of a stoner... and then a preppy guy, who was probably a stoner in his free time, but with that thought he was probably also already hooked up with his preppy buddies, or someone. still it didn't hurt to try.

"Hey pal, you got any bud by chance?" I asked smoothly as I walked up beside him. at first he was a tad startled, especially with my appearence, but he could see where I was coming from... just like I thought. "Nah bro, sorry" he said, continuing to walk, I kept pace. "Would you like some? you look pretty stressed man" I asked him, concern dripped from my voice in the most pleasently fake way imaginable. lying was a gift for me though. he looked at me, considering his options. "I'll hook you up fat cause its your first time with me" I said with a little smile, it only took a few favors for someone to come around. he smiled and looked around. "you got a 10 sac?" the boy finally asked, I smiled in turn, delightfully. "But of course" I said, pulling 2 plastic baggies of weed I gave them to him, he handed me the money, and right on school grounds... oh how I love intuition. he smiled and I handed him my card. not an actual business card, but a little note with my number and the letter M written on it. "Give me a call" I said with a little tip of my hat before backing off. if the kids around here where that easy this was going to be a cakewalk... it all brought me back to the first time I sold any weed.

***

July 7th, 2006

being the big bad almost teenager that I was, I was a considerable force in the middle school. in fact I was the only dealer of my middle school, and I got all my stuff from this thirty year old man who was apperantly homeless and just wandered around from place to place selling weed... what an excellent life that seemed like. adventure, full on, never a day unspent, almost romantic in a sense, like an old tyme adventure. except with more drugs, and violence. at this point I was fairly close to running away from home, but washington still had me. all the grunge kids who wanted pot came to me, even older ones, I felt so important, like my life had some shallow meaning behind it. it was a fragile facade, but it was mine, so I held on to it like it was my last breath. still, I started fairly small. I had already started smoking cigarrettes, it seemed cool, not to mention I would do anything my father didn't like, I loved the negative attention, it was the only thing that kept him from disowning me. so one night when I was out and about in seattle I ran into my middle aged dealer selling some to the local bunch of hooligans, they where much older than I was, but nothing could daunt me, I've always kind of liked danger. I approached them all. "Excuse me... I've got ten bucks... anyway I could join in on this?" I asked, my pre-pubescent voice pitiful, but solid. the man looked at me, examining me as if I was some kind of science expiriment gone wrong. his face got very close to mine, I instinctively flinched, and then I drew my face closer to his. some sort of intensity must have radiated from my eyes but he suddenly smiled and pulled back. "You got a lot of spirit kid... you like talking to people a lot?" the man asked. I nodded my head, he still hadn't answered my question. I had yet to learn that if you want something you just need to take it. he laughed, the boys laughed as well. "What's your name boy?" he asked, his toothy grin seemed incredibly disgusting in the dim streetlamp's glow. I coughed, the smoke on his breath was so intense I simply had a hard time handling it. "You didn't tell me if I could buy any" I said stubbornly, also to take his mind off of my name... it seemed like a really bad idea to tell him my real name. he laughed even harder, the stench worsened as I realized that was not just his mouth that stank. "I like you kid" he said, reaching into his pocket he pulled out a plastic container filled with nug. "have you ever smoked pot before?" he asked me. I was apprehensive, but in a rare twist of fate I told the truth, and was rewarded. he smiled at me, pulling off his backpack, which I realized was not a backpack at all but a giant case for a bong. "Boys... we're gonna show our young new friend a great time, huh?" he asked the high schoolers who all agreed quite readily. that night they smoked me out for free, and the old man gave me a jar of nug, telling me I should be a dealer. he said that if I could come back with the empty jar and one hundred dollars he'd refill it for me, he said he thought I had what it took. in a strange way he became my mentor, and I loved the feeling of it. I went out of my way to talk all of my friends into buying some, then I talked all of their friends into it, and so on and so forth. the very first person though, he was the hardest. I told him all about how awesome it was, but he had this problem cause his dad was a deadbeat because he did too much pot and nothing else... I convinced him though, I said "look at me... I get straight A's, I make tons of money, I do lots of extracurriculars, just cause you smoke pot doesn't make you a deadbeat" and all of these things where true, and he knew it, so he did it. I didn't feel bad at all. it was one of the best sales I've every done.

***

It was almost 2... a rather rare time of day, usually I begin to feel pretty sleepy right around now, but all of this reminiscing had my mind on hyper drive, thinking about everything I'd lived through, all the stupid stiuations I'd put myself in. at least I had done one thing right... I lived everyday to its fullest, and with no regrets. I conceivably could die happy. sometimes I wished I still believed in atheism, then I wouldn't feel so bad trying to kill myself the way I am...

***

January 23rd, 2009

"NO ONE FUCKING UNDERSTANDS, GODDAMMIT!" I shouted, the top of my lungs, my chest felt like it was going to burst, I threw whatever I was holding into a wall, I think it was a bong, all I reemmber was that it shattered into a million pieces. I had just taken way too much speed and was having a very nasty bad trip you see. "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT DAMMIT" I continued, kicking a sofa over, with the people still on it. of course I was at a party, and being super immature, but I suppose drugs was the only way to relive my childhood. too bad my inner child is so goddamn piss off. Everyone was afraid of me, they knew what I was capable of, so no one tried to stop me, they simply watched in slight shock and awe. I was 15, and ever so restless. I had also just started doing coke recently, and smoking heroin, so I wasn't sleeping well, it was quite the experiance. I jumped off the couch, walking toward the exit, no one tried to stop me, no one cared. I was walking into the night from this wild party toward the pier of huntington beach. as I walked a few people started to follow me, but not because they cared, but just to see what I was going to do. I hate people like that. I'm like that. I hate myself. fuck this shit. I walked faster, breaking into a run. the only nice thing about those hard drugs is it makes you feel like you can do anything, so after I ran the mile and a half to the pier, I simply jumped right over the edge to dive into the water. unfortunately bolted to the other side of the pier was a large metal trash can. I couldn't even believe my luck, I freaked out more, punching the can I was in, screaming violently, I'm sure my face looked like a contorted child that needed anger management, and I'm certain that was funny to all the dipshits watching, as they had finally caught up. and all of the suddenly I felt something shift. a sick creaking as the bolt supporting the trash can began to rip through the wood it was screwed into. I jumped to my feet by instinct, the can fell beneath me. it was like a bad bugs bunny cartoon where I was just standing on nothing for a second. I reached out, again, pure instinct, my body didn't want me to die as badly as I did. I latched onto the edge and considered letting go until one hand rested on top of mine, then gripped and pulled me up. it was a girl, older than me by quite a lot, and definately not my type. but it was curious... that feeling that someone else truly wanted me around. but then I realized she probably only did that to make herself feel good about herself. I nodded at her, that was all the thankyou I'd give, and then I stormed off, looking for something else to waste my time with. worst. attempted. suicide. ever.

***

It was now 3:30, I was in the car that would be headed up toward the epic party. perhaps I'd try to kill myself again? perhaps I would just get harmlessly fucked out and screw someones brains out. perhaps I'd just have a really good time and do whatever comes natural. I could already forsee the rest of the night.

I get there, I smoke, I smoke a bunch of people out, get a whole shit ton of numbers, and start adding them up in my head for how much money I can make off of them later. I enjoy myself for the most part, and no... I don't try to kill myself, not that night. instead I fall asleep aimlessly in the arms of some girl, or her in my arms, whichever you want to put it, I'm really not that picky

tonight, is a good night.

Word Count: Not precise but I imagine about 2800 without coding or the preamble stuff

[Cain]

OOC: 2527 words. And this was my inspiration for this thread.

And Cain laid upon his bed, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, his breathing calm and easy as he tried to sleep, though annoyed at the fact that his body still had enough energy to keep awake. It almost seemed that no matter what Cain tried to do, his eyes just would not stay closed long enough for him to doze off into dreamland. He let out a soft sigh, the sound breaking the steady rhythm of the sound of rain pattering against the window, his breathing and Zen's breathing. Zen...

He turned his head, his hair pressing against the pillow as he looked to the woman that lay by his side, her stomach inflated as she slept facing him, the beautiful peace on her face drawing a smile on the man's face. Yeah, she was peaceful now. No longer did she have to fear her door opening and her father standing at the doorway. No longer did she have to worry about waking up and finding herself alone on the bed. No longer did she feel alone, or afraid. And Cain was glad to have helped her.

He turned back to the ceiling, then, as a familiar string of fears and worries came into his head. It was not going be long until Zen finally gave birth to their twins. And once she had, Cain knew that his life was going to change. He was going to change. He could only hope that it was for the better. He never had much experience as a father, or knowledge, at that. His father was not that well of an example.

His father...

===============
8 Years Old...
===============

"CAIN!"

That voice. It was so dreadfully familiar to the young Cain, the 8-year-old turning around slowly, his eyes widening slightly as he saw the four larger boys walking towards him, with smirks plastered upon their face. Cain felt his heart race, though he tried to look as calm as possible. He did not want to look like a coward. He refused to look like a coward. He clenched his right fist as he backed away from them, though finding his back hit the locker for a moment. His heart jumped as he felt his retreat being stopped, the four bullies surrounding him. He gritted his teeth under closed lips.

As brave as he put himself up to be, Cain was still the scared little boy that he was. He had always been scared. Scared of his father bursting into his room in the middle of the night. Scared of his father pulling him off the bed and kicking him. Scared of opening the door every single time he reached home from school. In fact, school had been haven for him. Until this four boys came into the scene. And now, his whole life was a living hell. In school, these four guys did what his father did at home, pushing him around, mocking him and laughing at him. Cain, however, stayed strong and brave, as he did at home.

Apparently, the results were different in school, as it only served to annoy the four boys, who were now more determined to hurt Cain more than ever, as one of them approached him, throwing a heavy right hook at his face, the young boy falling to the side, coming on all fours, tears starting to well up on his face.

"Psh, what a useless little chicken. You know, for a son of a boxer, you sure are weak."

Weak... Weak.. That was the word that his father had constantly described him with too. Cain's hand clenched, his fingers scratching against the tiled floor as the laughter of the four boys reached his ears. He slowly raised his head, his body shivering. He had enough. He was tired of this...

He got up quickly, a loud high-pitched yell emerging from the young boy's lips as he leapt forward, pouncing on the boy that had punched him, pinning him to the ground as he pounded on his face, fist after fist after fist after fist. It was only after three good strikes was Cain pulled off him by the other bullies, one holding each of his arm and the other one proceeding to help his friend. However, the smaller enraged Cain was far from over, as he swung and struggled in their grips, his legs flailing and soon catching one of the boys' groins. The older and larger male grunted, his hands letting go of Cain.

Cain would then come upon his other captive, his free hand clutching and clawing at his face as he bit at the arm that held him, his sharp teeth drawing blood as the boy yelled for him to let go. Cain would not, however, and felt the boy punch his face and pound his head, though with every hit, Cain would only bite harder. The young fighter's face was covered in bruises, his nose and lips bleeding, his right eye swollen and black and his left eyebrow bleeding.

He let go, the boy staggering backwards and holding his bleeding arm, terrified at the rage that they had seeded in the young Cain. And as for the last one, he was a little bit smarter as he dove at Cain, pinning him onto the wall, before kneeing him in the stomach. Cain doubled over, blood splattering on the floor in front of him. Another knee came in, and Cain coughed crimson all over the floor once more, before falling on his knees. No... No... He refused to be weak...

He dove forward, grabbing the guy's ankle and squeezing hard on it, before proceeding to constantly headbutt his knee, the boy yelped, reaching down and grabbing Cain's shoulders as he tried to pull him out, but Cain simply went on, headbutting until his forehead bled and his opponent fell on the ground, crying and clutching at his knee. And with that, Cain would slowly stand up, his face covered in blood, sweat and his own tears, his shoulders rising and sinking quickly.

He had fought back.

===============
11 Years Old...
===============

"Stand back up."

Cain let out a soft grunt, the boy on all fours, wearing nothing but a pair of boxing shorts and tapes on his fists and feet. Blood trailed down from his lips to his chin, staining the mat under him red. He would raise his head, looking up with furious eyes at the large man that was supposed to be his 'father'. The man would look down at him, with eyes that screamed disapproval, a soft 'tch' coming from his lips. It was obvious that this man no longer regarded the boy that was on the ground in front of him as his son. His mouth would open, that voice sending chills down Cain's spine.

"I said, stand back up."

Cain would grunt as he pushed himself back up on his feet, his knees shaking as his arms hung lifelessly by his shoulders. He was breathing heavily, his mouth gaping open to make way for the large volumes of air that entered and left his body. He would glance upwards, his father beckoning for him to come again. Cain would grit his teeth, before running forward, a yell coming from his lips as he did, his right hand raised and poised to strike. However, just as he was about to throw that fist in, he would suddenly be swiped off his feet, as his father's right foot came round in a roundhouse kick, hitting him square at his side.

The younger male would fly to the side, landing back first on the mat, rolling side and through the gap below the lowest rope, continuing to fall, his body soon crumpling onto the solid ground, his body screaming as it did. He would squirm on the ground, trying to get away as much as possible from his father, blood spraying out as he coughed.

"Are you gonna run away, Cain?"

Cain stopped in his tracks, his father's low voice pinning his whole body down like an unbelievably heavy weight, not a single muscle in his body moving. Hell, if Cain did not know any better, he'd think that even his heart had stopped moving. Slowly, he would turn back, his swollen and wet eyes looking back at his father, who stood at the edge of the ring. Run away...

He had always been doing that. Even as he charged forward, he knew that he was simply running away from something else. Yeah. He was always running away. He slowly got back up on his feet, shaking as he did earlier, though this time with less determination, the young boy simply standing there, his hands unclenched. It was obvious that he had surrendered, as tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the blood at his chin.

He closed his eyes, unable to look up at his father, who could only scoff at him, before turning around. There was no need to speak anymore. Cain already knew his punishment as he turned back too, dragging himself to the corner, where he proceeded to sit down, his legs hugged close to his body as he buried his face in his knees, shivering in both cold and pain, as he heard the door shut. And there he was, stuck and locked in the basement, punished to wait until the next morning when he was finally let out for a small bit of breakfast and morning training.

He whimpered, his eyes clamping shut as he cried.

He was afraid. He was cold. He was bleeding. He was tired. And worst of all, he was alone.

He was alone.

===============
14 Years Old...
===============

*Thud*

Cain watched in shock as his father fell to the ground, the young boy unable to do anything from outside the ring. As always, he was in the underground arena where his father always fought in. Watch and learn, his father always told him as he dragged him here, although he hated it here utterly. The smell of blood, sweat, smoke and alcohol disgusted Cain. He was still too young to appreciate the beauty of it all, after all. He just wanted to enjoy himself. And this was not the place to do so.

However, that night was especially different.

His father was on the mat, silent and still, facing Cain's direction. And the young boy could only look at him with wide shocked eyes. Everything went slow to him all of a sudden. Around him, he heard the muffled voices and cheers of those who supported the victor. He heard chairs falling to the ground as they stood up. He heard the referee counting down from 10. He heard the victorious yells of the champion of the match. And most of all, he heard the silence that was now his father, as the man's lifeless eyes seemed to stare back at him.

A tear rolled down Cain's cheek as he looked at his father, who laid there, silent and still. Blood seeped out from behind his lips, staining his tanned and rough face red. The shine from his eyes had disappeared. His chest no longer moved, as still as the organs that it contained.

Cain looked at his father, who laid there... Dead.

And all he could do was stand there and stare, shocked and shaken at his very foundations. What was this? Why was he not happy? He should have been happy! The young boy looked at the ground as the tear finally left his chin, falling onto the ground. Despite all the noise around him, he could hear it completely, the tear splashing onto the floor, the sound ringing in his head as it reminded him what he had gone through for the past 14 years. The tears that he had shed. The blood that he had shed. It all came back to him now, like a movie squeezed into a single second.

And he glanced back up once more, as the commotion finally began, the referee kneeling down on the other side of his father's body, fingers reaching down as he tried to find a pulse at his neck, but to no avail. His father was already dead. The last punch had done him in. Despite it all, however, Cain felt as if that last punch had done him in too. His whole life was thrown into a vortex. His father was dead. And yet, he was not happy. Why?

He no longer had to fear hearing the sound of his door opening. He no longer had to cringe at the sound of a low and deep voice. He no longer had to look over his shoulder every time he walked around in his own house. He no longer had to fight just to eat in his own house. He no longer had to train so hard to prove that he was good enough. He no longer had a goal in life. He no longer had someone he wanted to best. He no longer had someone, despite everything, to call... His family.

And, more than he had ever thought he would ever feel, Cain felt alone. His mother was dead. His father was gone. He had no real friends to speak of.

For the first time ever, he was really alone.

For the first time ever, his life felt meaningless.

===============
Present...
===============

A tear rolled down his cheek as he thought back on it all. They weren't exactly the best of memories, but they were the memories that had impacted him most of all. They were the ones that had changed his life. And they were the ones that had shaped the image of fatherhood to him. Someone who sought only the usefulness in their child's existence. Someone who cared not for their well-being, but for their contributions to him. Someone who would leave you, before allowing your dream to be achieved.

At least, that was the image, before he grew up. He turned back to Zen, that warm smile coming back to his face. He was going to be the father his own father never was. He was going to be the role model his father failed to be. He was going to give them love his father never showed. He shifted closer to Zen, bringing his arm around her body as he pulled her close to him, hearing a soft moan escape from her lips, his smile widening as she did.

He had a new purpose now, a new goal in life.

And unlike before, he was going to achieve it this time, no matter how long it took and how hard it was going to get. And at the same time, perhaps achieve the goal he had when he was younger in a different way.

As a father, he was going to be better than him.

[Jayr Byrne]

Let’s start, from the very beginning.

Ireland

The steam coming off the musky shower rolled into the bathroom like an early morning fog based just off the valley floor. Her valley being made up of the pale marble tile stones each little crease and make made to look like an inlet between rocks. Jayr could remember the times back then even if they were but dreams now a time ago and a place away they were a very detailed diction. Crossing the glades marked in evergreen woods of Ireland Jayr, now only seven at the time, would skip her way through the front yard. This very one stretching for miles on end as the hills and scales carried off the horizon. In her Pink dress Jayr stood indefinitely against the tide of grass that reached at the base of her neck.


Chicago


....?

VERY INCOMPLETE

[Mischa Badoer]

Mischa was on the phone with her dad which always reminisced about the old days. It was so boring like… beyond so. She was sitting there eating chips and watching T.V until he brought up her [url=http://media.80stees.com/images/products/Marvel_Spider_Man-Plush_Doll.jpg
]Spider-man plushy[/url]. God she loved that thing… and yeah… it brought up memories… even if it didn’t play a big part in her life…

The first was when she was four.. Which she was really surprised she even remembered…

The little girl was small and she was at the dentist. She loved the dentist so much, but today she was sad. The appointment was made during the time she was supposed to visit her friend… and he wasn’t in Venice long so it was less time she had to spend with him. They were supposed to watch some dubbed Spider-Man (in colour) episodes. The old ones were the best!

They were working on her teeth due to some cavities that were forming… Mischa did have a sweet tooth, but at the age she didn’t know about cavities. Normally any parent wouldn’t care about their child’s baby teeth… but her family had the money along with the fact that cavities could effect the adult teeth if they are left to rot… so here she was.. She felt the needles and she would try her best not to cry so she could be a good girl for mommy and daddy… Her small frame would twitch about as her eyes were held closed tight as they drilled away… them doing a damn good job working on teeth that size.

Once she was out she would poke at her face and suck on her lower lip as she drooled about not being able to feel anything. She was able to get a kick out of it until she heard the news of missing her friend. He had to leave the country early so she never got to see him. Just like any kid she would pout and cry and kick..just anything ‘cause she was sad…

Her mom picked her up and brought her to a store… she was told that she could have ANY thing in the store… anything… and here she was squeeing over the simplicity of a poorly crafted Spider-man Plush toy. She could have had a fancy toy that would shoot out “lazers” or a toy that could talk if you squeezed it… but she got most excited for the her favourite hero in stuffie form. Now she would be able to carry him everywhere!

Her mother bought it for her…and she was inseparable with it.

Her mother… That was another memory…

It was Mischa’s fifteenth birthday…

She just got off school and was now helping her mother work in the pizza shop. At this point Mischa knew what the shop was a front for. Though she would never entirely work directly with the thugs that would come in for the underground business… That lead to the situation that would change her life.

A few men came in… they didn’t look to happy… Mischa played it off as just grumpy customers ‘cause they always got them. Hungry people were a force to reckon with. Mischa assumed this as her mother knew better.

“Prendi in cucina, cuore dolce.” [Get in the kitchen, sweet heart] Mischa would nod and obey her mother… though she didn’t understand why so she stood by the swinging door letting her foot stop it from closing the whole way. Her eye peaked through the crack staring at the men and her mother have a heated and hushed conversation. Next thing she knew her eyes grew wide as she saw a gun being pulled on her mother. She heard the fire and closed her eyes tight when she heard the thud of her mother collapsing to the ground. Their pizza delivery boys worked for them in other ways so they managed to gun the guys down before they caused any more damage and to avenge her mother, Vanya‘s, death.

Mischa slammed the door open and started slipping in the blood… she landed on her knees and glided across the wet, tile floor… now she was by her mother’s side… her tears would fall down her face mixing in with the crimson life that was now draining from her mother. She didn’t know what to do… her father was out of Venice at the time…. She had barely any close family… Now she was scared… and sad she had lost her mother. They pizza boys picked her up and dragged her away from the body and brought her up to her room… Mischa now laid on the bed drenched in her mother’s blood and tears as she held tight to the Spider-man plush toy her mother had bought her when she was feeling down.

She loved that plushy…. She held onto it as long as she could… it was a memory of her mother and it served as her security blanket. Though she loved it and vowed never to lose it… there was a time she had finally parted with it.

When Mischa was seventeen and still living in Long Beach… she had Aiden for the day. Kev’s baby sitter had Kazumi ‘cause they were going to have girly fun so Mischa volunteered to look after Aiden. This was when she got dome serious bonding time with him… Bonding time in Mischa speak means telling him all about Marvel or DC comics and their super heroes. He didn’t see interested ‘cause he was so damn young… but she would talk to him the same none the less. After the whole day of bonding she would finally bring up the courage to give him the plushy. By now it had been a beige-ee colour due to being so old and going through absolute hell… the fabric was no longer soft but had those small lint balls stuck to it… but Aiden loved it. His face lit up and hugged it tight with his small arms. She wanted her mother’s legacy to carry on and she really hoped that Aiden would cherish the stuffed hero as much as she had…

“Addio, Mischa. Ti amo” [Goodbye, Mischa. I love you]

“Voi pure”[you as well]Mischa hung up the phone.. And went back to watching T.V wondering in Aiden still had Spidey…

Word count not including code, link, or translation: 1041

[Reira]

Reira was all about being financially stable so planning her career path wasn’t exactly a new aspect to her early mornings. So here she was surfing the net with Excel open and many websites and tabs on the computer screen. Although Reira knew she would probably spend another year in high school due to her many absences, she was just checking out which colleges she would apply to. Reira was planning how much she had to save, which school she is capable of being accepted into, how much dorm and food fees with be along with tuition.

She had started saving money and investing money into educational saving plans and planned to apply for student loans but there is no such thing as being too safe.
Leaning back in her chair she stretched her arms back and looked up at the ceiling as her thoughts drifted off to her childhood. What did she want to be when she was a kid again?

-5 Years Old-

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!” cheered a horde of children along with Reira’s family.

There she was sitting at the end of the table with a pink party hat on with a pink boa around her neck like a little diva. Yes, she was super girly and loved the whole princess look and she wouldn’t be judged for the very reason that it was her birthday and she had just turned five years old. It’s funny how when you were little birthdays in many families were the most important day in the whole year. At the time of your infancy and toddlerhood it was even more important than the day one got married!
Reira clapped her hands together when the giant chocolate cake with ice blue frosting was brought to the table. The children “OOhh-ed” and “Ahh-ed” at the sight of the giant cake as Reira’s mother beamed with pride, because after all she was the one that baked the cake. Reira’s father brought the candles and placed five into the spongy softness of the cake. Nathaniel, Reira’s brother only ruffled Reira’s hair messing it up before he dimmed the lights and the candles were lit.

A whole chorus started when suddenly the whole group of Reira’s kindergarten friends started singing happy birthday. The candlelight created an eerie glow that illuminated the various faces that sang to her with smiling faces. However, as eerie as they were Reira could only view them to be full of great cheer as she beamed while Nathaniel snapped pictures to save the moment.

When the song was done there was clapping before Reira’s mum made a comment,

“Okay now honey, make a wish!”

Reira clasped her hands together tightly and dramatically before she blew out the candles in one big breath. More clapping ensued and the cake was cut and passed around.

“So baby, now that you’re one year older you must have an idea of what you would want to be when you are older.”

Reira’s dad was asking the good old question of “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Adjusting her little pink party hat Reira flashed her pearly whites in time for a picture when she stated, “A Princess of course!”
--
Reira refocused her eyes and blinked a few times before she realized she had totally zoned out. Leaning back forward to face her computer screen she let out a soft chuckle in amusement. Oh how naive and cute she was to actually want to be a princess, just like any other girl around the age of five to seven. Grabbing her empty mug she went into the kitchen to make some lunch but caught sight of her mom napping on the couch. Slowly and quietly Reira stepped towards the couch and pulled the blanket closer to her mother face before entering the kitchen.

Reira made a quick jam sandwich and filled her tummy before she headed out into the backyard of her house. Sipping her home-made mocha cafe she sat down on the lawn chair stretching out and relaxing before her thoughts drifted once more.

--16 years old. You’re Hired. Now get to work!—

“Yes sir! This is my portfolio...I-I know it’s not professionally done but I assure you that I am capable of producing flawless work!” Reira urged as she leaned in closer to the large oak desk where a man in his thirties sat behind.

Reira was greeted by silence even though her eyes were speaking louder than the all but evident hum in the background. The man flipped through the small binder, looked at Reira, sighed then closed the book. Reira’s heart dropped because it seemed as though he did not even have the interest of looking at her photos. He took off his glasses and held them with his left hand while he rubbed his eyes wearily with his right.
Taking in a deep breath Reira prepared herself for the worse as the man opened his eyes once more, filled with a professional spirit as he leaned in closer towards Reira.

“Tell me little girl, what do you want to achieve. What is your goal...your dream? Why should I hire you.”

Reira sat up straighter in her chair and looked at the man straight in the eyes.

“I’m confident in my abilities and I am sure that I can improve even more. I have many years ahead of me to establish my name and my skill but in order for this to occur, an opportunity is what I need. To work for you...no to work in this industry to have the chance to experience the life of an artist... it would be a blessing. I know I am young but like many others I have a dream. What makes me different is that I would do anything in my power to achieve my dream to become the most famous and skilful make-up and hair designer in the world.

To be known internationally and work for the most prestigious companies is my dream. I won’t let you down, I can swear that I will not complain when there’s hardship and that I will not overstay my welcome if my work is no up to your expectations. All I’m asking for is a chance, Mr. Anderson.”

The man stared at Reira’s chocolate hues for a good minute before he leaned back in his chair. Another moment passed before he smiled and extended his hand.

“I have great expectations and I hope you do not disappoint me Reira, I do hope that you achieve your dream. Your determination is admirable...and I have to admit you show much potential for someone your age.”

Reira beamed as she returned the gesture, giving the man’s hand a firm shake.

“Thank you...thank you so much!”
--
Reira had to admit she was far from achieving such a title as a well-known and received make-up artist or hair designer, but she was getting there. Although she continued to work for Mr. Anderson till this day she wanted to expand her knowledge and go to college for a professional education in commerce, and business. That is to say that she would like to make a business in such industry once she establishes her name.

It was now dark and dinner time came closer but Reira was oblivious to that fact because she was fully immersed in lala-day dream back to the past land.

--Two nights ago—

Ring. Ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, may I please speak to Ms. Reira Nikolov please?”

“Speaking, may I ask who is calling?”

“Ah, this is Covergirl Agency and we were very impressed by your work. We want to book you for one of our model’s Trisha Lee Marciano.”

Reira’s heart dropped. Adrenaline kicked in and joy just filled her body. What was this? CoverGirl was actually giving her a chance! It couldn’t be happening, but it was! Reira could not be happier because with this opportunity and growth she would start networking with professionals and be able to kick-start her career if she were to perform well.

“Yes...yes of course, wow, thank you so much, you have no idea what this means to me...”
--
Reira opened her eyes and laughed at her predicament. She surely was living up to what she said she was going to do. Princess and artist combined! How weird it was to remember that she wanted to be a princess and in some ironic way was still yearning to become one. Artist entrepreneur and internationally known? Yeah. Reira would call that being a princess.

“Reira?”

“Yes mum?”

“Dinner!”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Let’s just see what the future holds for her.

[The Worm]

OHHHHH<3333

You guys. so much awesome!!

Loved all of them<3

;w; especially Cain's.

So yer take your rewards<3

Jayr~~ if you finish yours. PM it to me ;D I'd love to read it.


Thanks guys<3


EDIT: because i don't feel like deleting this post.

Jasper was lying down on his bed, reading one of his manga, D.Gray-Man, Volume 15, actually, the manga was lying on his face, Jasper was sleeping, his pet kitten snoozing on top of his stomach. Shifting slightly in his sleep, Jasper woke up, as his eyes opened, just slits, as he stared at one of the panels of the manga. Lifting the manga off his face, a photograph tumbled out of the inside of the manga and landed on his chest, as Jasper reached over and picked the photograph up, all while trying not to wake up his kitten. It was a picture of a young girl and boy happily playing the piano. Smiling sadly, only when he was by himself, was he not Jasper, but he was Kazuya. Closing his eyes, Kazuya's thoughts drifted off to his past... and his childhood.

- Nine Years Old: Aria of the Past -

"Play that song dad, the one you always played for us!" A happy Kazuya's voice rang out, as his father, Kane Hikari, sat at the piano, a smile on his face, as he looked at his two children standing nearby. "That song again? Alright, if that's what you want." He replied, as Kazuya and his older sister, Kyoko, shouted happily. His father turned to the piano, and paused for a minute, his hands poised over the keys, the metronome the most prominent sound, for now.

He then began playing, his hands gliding over the keys, as Kazuya closed his eyes and swayed his head to the music, sitting in a armchair, his sister on the couch adjacent to him. Kazuya looked small in the armchair, almost like it would swallow him up. Kyoko, taking advantage of her brother, who's eyes were closed, snuck up quietly and pounced, tickling him into submission. "Gotcha!" She cried out happily, as she began tickling Kazuya, who opened his eyes and cried out. "Ah! Stop! Th...that tickles!" He gasped out, trying to escape, to no avail. His sister continued, Kazuya trying to escape her clutches again and again, until he finally escaped and ran around the room, his sister chasing after him.

Their father continued playing, a smile on his face, although he didn't take his eyes of the music sheet, he was happy his two children were having fun. Finishing the song, he allowed the last few notes to resonate, and finished. Turning, he watched his daughter catch his son and tackle him to the ground on the soft carpet. "Hahahaha, were you two listening, or busy playing?" He asked, getting off the piano bench and moving over to them, as the two wrestled playfully, Kazuya trying to escape, Kyoko trying to keep hold of him. "Both!" They replied together, making their father laugh, his laughter fading away...

- Present -

Opening his eyes, Kazuya smiled sadly as he looked at the photo, before setting the photo aside on the table beside his bed, and gently rubbed the top of his kitten's head, as Kuro shifted slightly in his sleep, reacting to Kazuya's touch. Even though his mother had been killed, and to this day he still didn't know who did it, he was happy, happy because he had his father and older sister, and they were all that he needed. Gently picking up and carrying Kuro with one hand, who woke up and mewed at Kazuya, he got off his bed and headed downstairs. "Oof... Kuro-chan, you're getting heavy you know that little guy?" Kuro just mewed back at him, as Kazuya chuckled and shook his head. Heading into the kitchen, Kazuya was about to open the fridge and make something to eat when something poking out of his textbook caught his eye. Depositing Kuro on the counter, Kazuya opened his textbook, and saw it was a picture of him making a snowman in the snow, reminding him of the last time he saw snow... with her. Sephora...

- Seventeen Years Old: Love Hurts. -

"What happened after you got separated from me? Were you alright? You didn't get hurt more did you? I saw the blood, but I didn't know what happened, I couldn't ask even if I wanted to, I was struggling just to stay conscious, and say the words I wanted to say before I blacked out." Alex said, as he continued down the path, snow falling gently from up above. "Sephora," Alex said, stopping on the path, and looking at her, his eyes serious but gentle. "I love you." He said it. He said the three words he had tried to say back at Paragon. That he loved her. And he meant every word of it. He saw her look back at him, but he could tell she was speechless, just trying to process what it was he had just said.

"I don't know what to say, Alex." He smiled gently at her, returning the smile she had given him. "I know, maybe my feelings are one-sided, but I always cared about you, I remember the first time I met you, it was at the Saturday Qi class. I still remember it clearly, you were the first one to give me a smile, a real smile, not one forced because of who I was." Alex replied, looking down at the ground, a sad smile on his face, he knew his feelings, they may not ever be reciprocated. "I'm not ready for a relationship." Alex smiled gently at this as he saw Sephora smooth out her skirt, a relationship, was not what he intended for. "I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend, but I had to tell my feelings, I had to get the words out, I had to give my feelings some sort of form. I didn't recognize what the feelings were, until then, when I saw you were alive after the attack." "I'm bad luck. I don't know if you remember the demon attack at Paragon's, but that was because someone got close to me. I don't want you to get hurt."

"You're not bad luck to me. Just because that demon attack was directly linked to you, doesn't change my view of you. Even if you changed into something different, I would always stand by you, no matter what. You are my dear friend, and I will always care about you, no doubt about it. I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I won't stop caring about you," Alex replied, smiling gently at Sephora, his eyes gentle and kind, "Just promise me, you'll always stay with me. I lost you once, I don't want to lose you again. I want to stay together with you, you, my friend closest to my heart." Together...

- Present -

Kazuya smiled sadly, as Kuro, who could tell that Kazuya was saddened, crawled over to him and rubbed his head against his arm comfortingly, as Kazuya tore his gaze away from the photo and gently rubbed Kuro's head with his index finger. "... Thanks Kuro..." Kazuya said quietly, as Kuro mewed and continued to rub his head up against Kazuya's arm. Placing the photo into his pocket, Kazuya went and made something to eat, as he took his food to the table. Sitting down, he saw his photo album hiding amongst the books in his bookcase. Reaching out, he pulled it out and pulled out the photo from his pocket and began flipping through it, finding where the photo had originally been and placed it back. Just as he did so, another photo caught his eye. Picking it up out of the album, he saw it was a picture of him wearing a tuxedo, his right hand rubbing the back of his neck, not even looking at the camera. Clearly someone took it while he was not paying attention. It reminded him of that prank played on him and Emily...

- Eighteen Years Old: Marriage!? R U Srs!? -

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join these two in holy mock matrimony." Ryuu looked at Emily and gave her a small smile, his expression saying, "What can we do? Might as well just go with it right...?" The priest then looked at Ryuu, who tore his gaze away from Emily, for some reason, he had a hard time looking away from her. "Do you, Kazuya Ryuu Hikari, take this girl, to be your lawfully wedded mock wife?" Ryuu looked at Emily, pausing for a minute, before nodding slightly. "I do." "And do you, Sacricia Emily Lourdes E. Delos Santos, take this guy, to be your lawfully wedded mock husband?" "... I do." She said, giving Ryuu a smile, as he returned her smile, earning not just squeals from the girls, but several wolf-whistles from the guys. At least they were having fun... At Ryuu and Emily's expense.

Ignoring the priest's comment, Ryuu pulled out the box that held the ring inside, Ryuu opened it, and pulled the ring out, before tossing the box quickly over his shoulder to Taku to shut him up, as he gently took Emily's hand into his own, before slipping the gold and platinum silver ring onto her ring finger. The priest then pronounced the two of them man and wife, as he stifled his laughter while nudging Ryuu, telling him to give Emily a good smooch. Ryuu nearly had a heart attack from hearing that, as he blushed just as furiously as Emily did. He had to kiss Emily... In front of their entire class!? "Excuse me!?" Ryuu exclaimed exactly the same time as Emily did. "Wow, not only do you guys look good together, you guys really are made for each other, you're even in sync with each other." The priest commented, as he began to hug himself and making smooching noises with his lips. "You're going to give each other your eternal vows! Seal it with a kiss~" Ryuu blushed furiously as he faced away from Emily.

He looked at Emily from the corner of his eye, as he stared into empty space, before turning to face her, a look on uncertainty on his face. Before he knew it, he had leaned forward and kissed Emily on the lips. The only good thing about his bold move, it had shut their classmates up. Ryuu didn't know what was going on. His heart was beating so fast, it felt like he was going to have a heart attack before it jumped out of his chest. She was warm and gentle and-- he shouldn't even be thinking about this, he should be worrying about if Emily may pull away and kick his ass for kissing her for a third time! But no, she didn't. Instead, he saw her close her eyes, as their classmates gasped, she had given in...

- Present -

Kazuya leaned back in his chair, Kuro lying peacefully on his lap, as he placed the photo back in the album. Sad or not, they were all precious memories, his memories. New identity or not, they belonged to him, and only him. And they could never be replaced or forgotten...

(OOC: Word count without BB coding and this note: 1876)

and Jack

As promised, sorry I had such a full weekend.

IC:
Jack was kneeling in the middle of his steam room, the room was located in an old warehouse that Jack and Phoenix owned and were developing. He used it for his hydro therapy and recovery sessions, after major sporting events, training or fights. In the warehouse was a large 10 by 10 clear glass cube, this cube was his makeshift compression sauna room, with vents in the ground to allow a constant supply of steam it was designed to act as any decent compression room, allow steam in but not out. Just outside the glass cube were two pools side by side, one was a spar the other was a plunge pool (A plunge pool is a deep spar that’s extremely cold around 8-12 degrees celcius). There was a barrier around the pools to stop the water getting out when it overflowed, as well as the floor directly around the pools be angled upward to minimize any water escaping.

Inside his specially designed sauna was a single seat, the tiles were plain white (imagine a prison shower room) and there were neat rows of vents lining the floor. Just outside of the cube was an enclosed area which had a large water feature, which resembled a water fall used for cold water dowsing. Wearing board shorts and a towel wrapped around his shoulders , he entered his sauna closing the door behind him and activating the steam room.

He would sit down on the stool situated in the middle of the steam room, his mind going blank as he reminisced about the path, this was the three year anniversary of that night’s training with Stein. Breath in Jack would take a deep breath in as he let his lungs and diaphragm expand. Breath out he would blow all the previous air within his lungs out into the hot air. breath in his lungs and diaphragm would expand, breathing in all the air through his nose, breath out once again the air would be expelled through his mouth. His eyes closed and his body at peace Jack’s mind would drift back to that night three years ago.

You’re far too predictable! Attack faster! Stein would yell at Jack the beast’s temper was building at his pupil’s lack of dedication. Jack once again attacked the heavily protected mook who was one of Stein’s many lackeys. A perfect three punch sequence was dealt to the lackey, a combination that would make any trainer proud, but not Mr Archist. Jack felt a sharp blow across the back of his thigh, forcing him to his knees, Stein kicked the back of his head into the mat, braking his nose in the process. He would drag his pupil by the hair back to his feet as he peered into his eyes, “When I say faster, I mean FASTER! Now…” The man clicked his fingers “See this family” Jack nodded feebly . “Forever time you disappoint me I’ll make you kill one of them, understand?”… “Yes” The beast’s eyebrows parked, Yes what?, “Yes master”. And so ended the murder of the Lloyd family.

Jack exited, out of his recovery complex, walking to his car he hopped in going for a ride. As he drove down the road he saw a bunch of kids tricking and doing some parkour practise. A flashback all those years back when he used to train himself for Urban getaways before he grew up and bought a car. Back in those days Jack had many skills as he partook in a great quantity of sports, achieving a high standard at them all and among other lesser official activities. However if there was just one that he enjoyed more than the others it was that of free running, similar to parkour yet completely different in its entirety. This was something he did for no other purpose but enjoyment, he enjoyed fighting but he fought to get stronger, he trained in parkour so he could run away or get to placed much faster on foot. Parkour was something which could he could in all aspects of day to day life at 552 and other similar, from travelling to and from fights or whenever he needed to get to class. It had many benefits and they were all different based on who the user was. Back in the day Parkour had saved Narin and Jack as they got up to their mischief.



Get the fuck back here!

A restaurant owner yelled as Jack and Narin sprinted down the street, jumping over everything and everyone. “I thought you said you were paying!”, Asshole, I never pay! Narin would shout back as they ran away from the angry restaurant owner. “You asked me out to lunch! SO you pay!” I said I would like to go out to lunch and you said let’s go, “Asshole that means you pay!” Does not!, “Fucking Pom!”, Fucking convict!, “Black and Tan!”, Not cool!, How about you go ask your crock hunter to pay for you!, “Not cool man! That man’s a saint! A fucking saint! Go fondle the Queen!.” Narin stopped running, Jack was taken by surprise, turning around he eventually came to a stop, Narin’s usually blank face suddenly turned cold and dark, his hair fell in front of his eyes. “Say whatever you want about my country, or me for that matter. But never, insult my Queen! Or by the hand of god himself, shall smite you down into the ground!”. Jack stared at Narin with a blank face, “You’re Queens a minga!” That was the last straw Narin broke out into a sprint chasing Jack across New York city, neither giving up the chase nor the run.

You Fucking Convict! “You fucking pom!” Fuck you! Learn how to play real football! “Learn how to win the ashes!” Too far! “Not far enough it would seem!” This spurred Narin into faster run, quickly catching up with the slim framed body of Jack. Suddenly Jack felt two large arms clam around his knees . All six foot eight of him came crashing to the concrete floor, as Narin began mounting him, continuously slamming his first into Jack’s face. “What’s wrong pommy? The Barmy Army didn’t have any spots left?”

And so concluded the afternoon in the city with good ol Narin. Jack continued driving down the street until he drove past a ramen cart, suddenly it struck him, that evening with Tsubame and her Ramen Cart…. But that… well that he would reminisce about later.