Wednesday, December 19, 2012

ON THE THIRD DAY OF CHRISTMAS


  
Next!

Ah.

The dance.

Yup.


Kallista Pendragon sighed and looked on wistfully at the sharply-dressed dancers criss-crossing the ballroom floor, and- not for the first time that night- wished that someone would swoop in and dance with her.
A laughing couple passed by her and didn’t even spare her a glance; instead, they took two of the champagne glasses that Kallista balanced expertly on a silver platter. She itched uncomfortably at the white bib around her neck that symbolized that she was a waiter. She nervously darted around the procession of dancers and made her way to the kitchen doors. They swung upon and she avoided all and pulled open the nearest refrigerator. Kallista refilled the champagne flutes and exited the kitchen. She completed another full rotation of the floor before standing quietly by the bar.
There was only one other occupant of the bar. Even the woman who had been cleaning the glasses with a dirty rag had left. The remaining person had the appearance of a middle-aged man, with cheeks full of stubble and a rough beard sitting around his mouth.
She resumed staring wistfully at the procession of dancers, and he pulled something from his side and slammed it down onto the bar.
It looked like a large metal army surplus canteen. It was shining silver and was engraved with the initials 'I.E'. But it wasn't a canteen, Kallista knew. It was an oversized hipflask.


That's as far as I got. Where was I headed? Israel is drunk and tries to dance and ends up falling asleep. End of story. Possibly the worst story idea I've ever had, and thus the reason that I stopped shortly after starting. Kal, I really am trying to write up that dance story properly. I might incorporate it into your bday story, if you give me time. Actually, yes, I've got a brilliant idea. No need to write up a dance, Kal, I'll put it in the Bday story.

Ok, good. That's all sorted. And yes. Israel has a hip flask the size of an army canteen. People, I don't even know. This is Israel. He gets drunk. He has a rough beard. He has been mistaken for a homeless man on many, many occasions. You really need to stop getting your hopes up about this guy. He's not going to shrug off his coat and have a suit underneath. Just another coat. 

Ok. Moving on. What else do I have? I have a short piece I wrote on the 16 hour bus trip to Canberra. I expected myself to write tonnes, and I wrote a little more than 300 words...


I lay back in my uncomfortable seat on the bus and sigh. It's 2am. My eyes feel like closing over, yet I know sleep will not claim me as fast.
My friend beside me is asleep. The people on my left, across the aisle, are asleep. Everyone seems to be. Except me.
My headphones are plugged in, under the fluffy hat I wear to keep my ears warm. The music is full of quotable lyrics and soft, slow rhythms.
I have a lot on my mind.
The facade is gone. No-one's up to see it, so why should I bother? So, without the facade or anyone to talk to, my heavy thoughts are my only company. Thoughts of hate, thoughts of distrust and thoughts of fear and anxiety.
I should get some sleep. Of course I should. Wake up and don the mask again tomorrow, and it'll all be fine. Wear it all week, wear it when I get home. Even when I talk online, I wear it. Because without it, all of my hate and anger shines through. Every wrong someone has committed against me floats to the front of my mind.
A fox makes a dash for the median, tries to cross as we approach. The bus lurches and brakes as the driver goes to avoid it. I glimpse it's face, the tiny yellow orbs as they stare at impending death, unable to move.
And then we've passed it, and I have no idea if it escaped or not.
I change the song.
The night is beautiful. A perfect night for torture, as Serpine would say. But still, above all else... I can't stop thinking. But I won't try and put it on here. I'll try in the morning.

I never really got to bed. I drifted in and out of sleep, and at around 5am, the bus started to wake up again. I missed the sunrise. Now it's 10am, 12 hours since we left. We should be there in 4 hours time.

And now, 6 hours later, I'm sitting on a bunk bed in the small building-type thing that will be our home for the next few days. I still don't want to write about things bothering me.


So, that was that. I think it was back in August, I'm not sure. I don't even remember what was bothering me. Emails, I think, because I remember desperately trying to get an internet connection in the plazas we visited and looking at long emails on the bus.

The line "makes a dash for the median" is from a song I was listening to at the time, Tin, by Everything Everything (Please click this link, this song is very cool and awesome and good for listening to at night in the car. Find the lyrics...) which is, indeed, about a fox that crosses the road and gets killed. It has some beautiful imagery and the lyrics are some of the most quotable things I have ever had the joy of listening to/reading.

Little sea
anemone, pool of rocks.
Why'd you see
an enemy I could not?
Could there be
a more heavenly artifact,
as pure as that?

Just brilliant. And yes, at the time, a fox did try to cross and I glimpsed it as the driver screeched the brakes to stop in time, awaking a few questioning students. I swear, I was the only one to see that fox.

I talked about the 'masks' that we have to don in that piece. I don't know if that's still my opinion. Life's so gorram complicated. Opinions change and mine are no exception. Just wish they stayed the same.

Ok. It's 10pm. Still got a bit of a headache from yesterday, and I'm famished for food. So, instead of being smart and going to bed NOW, I'm going to watch Kill Bill instead XD 

I know these posts have been kinda shortish and sorta lamish and I have no idea where I was going with half of them BUT HEY, tomorrow's post should be good! Just sit tight until then :D

On the Second Day of Christmas.../Fanfictions about games that not many here will know.


Caution: This is a short post because I was too sick to write a bigger one.

I had a Portal Fanfiction in mind a while ago, and there was a lot of fangirlish screams in my mind at the time, and I was really thinking that it would be an awesome story. Didn't even get past, like, 150 words. Most of it is just notes.


Portal Fanfic

I'm out of the loop. Out of my mind. I'm hidden for the moment, where she can't find me.

..For the moment.


This is for anyone who finds these recordings. This is for all to know what true evil lies here. This is for my daughter, Amy. 

This is for the record. 


My first day working at Aperture Science Laboratories was not as I expected, to say the least.
I didn't know what I was in for. I had been sent a letter, clean and crisp, three days earlier. It contained the whereabouts of a place that when searched into Google Maps or looked up in any directory, did not exist. Under the address, there were a few lines of text, stating that I had been given a chance to work at a science laboratory that specialized in a 'very interesting area of science'.
I was instantly interested.


(a quote for later)

"This is for the record. History is written by the victor.

History is filled with liars. (bold)

If he lives, and we die, his truth becomes written - and ours is lost. He will be a hero. 'Cause all you need to change the world is one good lie and a river of blood. He's about to complete the greatest trick a liar ever played on history. His truth will be the truth. But only if he lives, and we die."

-Captain John Price



Alright, that's all I had. Things to note? Amy is a reoccurring name. I had an Amy in my class when I was in year 1, 2 and 3. I don't remember anything else about her except her blond hair. I left that school and never heard from her again, until recently, when I found all of that class was going to a church nearby. Yeah. We're just not in the same group. In fact, that entire class is kinda like...the 'popular' group now, so I just tend to stay away. I didn't know you could have popular groups in church. At least, because they're Christians in a church, they don't insult/slander you in your face. They're awesome people. Just none of us are friends XD
I have used and will continue to use a lot of the names from that class. There were some really cool names. One of the guys is called Isaac, which I've always liked. I felt that name was a precursor to Israel, because...the 'I'...and they look similar...if you squint your eyes...kinda.

Captain John Price, for those who are wondering, is a computer game character. I know, I know. Not the most inspiring of people. But I love that quote. Especially the line "'Cause all you need to change the world is one good lie and a river of blood." Makes you think. Well, it made me think.

The idea that I had for that story is that the main character would be invited to work at Aperture Labs on GLaDOS, the incredibly smart AI from the game series. In Portal, the AI has already turned evil and gassed everyone in the building, with only one survivor (save those in the stasis chambers). I thought it would be fun to do a story before she turns crazy on the Bring your daughter to work day. Valve, the company that produced Portal, released a beautifully illustrated comic called Lab Rat which was like my idea, but much more refined and awesome and really quite beautiful and sketchy. I gave up on my FF shortly after :P




There's another story I want to put here, my Fallout 3 Fanfiction. I love the Fallout world because it's just so...cool! An apocalyptic USA with 40's style music, advertisements and places? A storyline so vast that it had an infinity of backstory to be filled in by others? Hell yeah!

The problem? It's not my franchise.

Ok, it's not a massive problem. But I love the idea of an apocalyptic world riddled with Nuclear Fallout and ticking Geiger counters. Does that make sense? Too bad! I have an idea for a comic/story/THING that I want to do in the near future and it uses some things from Fallout that I should probably edit so that it's not so much Fallout and a bit more original. The storyline that I've concocted is 100% me, but the setting is not quite. A world after a Nuclear War, underground Vaults to keep the human race surviving, hell, I might as well make it a fanfiction and be done with it. I know I'm rambling and not a lot of this paragraph makes sense, but it's better I told you all sooner rather than later.


This post has not been the best of posts. This has been because I was extremely sick over the last day or so. I'm feeling much better, but I'm just so hungry that it's not even funny XD And we have nothing to eat except yogurt and lollies, which I don't think my stomach can hold right now. 

But hey! In, like, 8 hours I'll post again, with the third "Day of Christmas". So, like, look forward to that. 


Monday, December 17, 2012

{START} Creativity Dump/On the first day of Christmas...


This was going to be a big post.

I mean, like, pretty big. But instead, I've chosen to split it up into seven parts, and post one each day until Christmas Eve. So, like, ever heard that song "On the first day of Christmas..."? And each day, there's a different gift?

I can already hear you asking me; "But Hellllbooooy, there's TWELVE days of Christmas in that song!"

And to that I say: "Shush! It's too late to do 12 posts leading up to Christmas! Be happy with seven! Be happy that I'm even posting stuff! Normally, I just mumble a few words on a chat somewhere, something about Santa and hip flasks! Now shoo, potential questioning blogger! I've got to post this before I get distracted by YouTube again!"

And instead of different gifts, I'll just dump all of these stories that I never got around to finishing or just gave up on. And a few that I really do want to continue but I just don't have time right now.

So, over the past few weeks I've been trying to get the next part of Kallista's story finished. Just hasn't been working out for me. Not sure why. I know exactly where I'm going, but I just can't...write it, you know? I feel like writing it is a chore, and all I'm doing is connecting point A to point B, getting the main characters to move from here to there and have limited conversation throughout it. Reread some of my old SP fanfic and was almost saddened at how my skill has gotten almost worst over the year and a bit since I finished writing that.

Soooo... Yeah. Some of you may already know, but I use a website called MyWritingSpot which allows me to write online with several documents and then sync it to my iPod, so I can write wherever. I'm sure there are multiple apps that allow you to do this, but I like this one in particular and it hasn't let me down yet. Well, it has once. It was running a bit slow and I went to delete an empty document and instead deleted that latest part of the World War Three thing that I had been working on, and then I hit sync as a reflex, which also deleted the copy online. So, poof, no more of that story XD But that was ages ago.

So far, the list of documents I have stored online looks like this:


As you can see, a lot of fanfictions, color coded. Brown for the huge SP Fanfiction I completed a while ago, White for stories that I actually got around to finishing, Blue for the World War 2 stories, Yellow for stories that I tried very hard to complete and utterly failed at getting further than (in some cases) 200 words, and Black for stories which I am currently working on, or have the highest priority. Within their colored sections, they are ordered in alphabetical order. I'm telling you this because while it seems that there are quite a few stories above Kallista's Bday story and it would seem that they have a higher priority, it's not. Kal, the story for you is right on top, in my mind.

Where was I? Ah, yes. My Writing Spot.

Today, because I actually have nothing to show you lot, I'm going to go ahead and share one of the unfinished stories that I had written up.

Something interesting to look at about some of these would be the notes. As I'm writing a story, no matter how far I get into it, I'll jot down notes at the very bottom of my page. They become like a little plan for my story, and most of the time they make no sense whatsoever. Random words, sentences intersecting each other and questions without much punctuation. 

The most notes I have right now in any story are in Kal's Bday Story, and even then, it's only about 120 words XD Or in the latest Private Eye part. A lot more notes are in my head, and that sucks, because I never write stuff down.

Now I'm just rambling...

Oh, the other thing. I'll also be putting up some drawings in these posts, just a couple. Even then, it's only one drawing and two or three pages of just sketchy stuff and scribbled notes and lines that kinda look like recognizable figures. Does that make sense? I hope so.

Alright, let's see. What should I show first? How about some Amy Hawkeye. This was the first story I had written down for her, I think. Most of these stories are going to be less than five hundred words, btw, but the idea was there. Here you go:




Amy Hawkeye grinned manically to the man in front of her, gave a middle-fingered salute, and launched herself off the window-cleaner’s platform that she was standing on. His thoughts ran around like crazy as her body was thrown like a ragdoll in the air. Too many thoughts, too little time...
She spun in mid-air, spreading her arms out and laughed at the wind rushing through her hair. She angled her descent towards the building on her left, aiming for the fiftieth window up. She could hear the thoughts of the man who owned that room, and knew he was walking right now, moving across his living room to open the window for some fresh air in…
Her form flew right through the now-open window and crashed right into him. She let her power consume him, not a single one of his thoughts escaping her. Tracey, the girl watching TV in the other room… a can of processed food for which the man had wanted to eat…and his instinct to grab his daughter and run, to escape through…the door on her right.
She got to her feet, snatching up an umbrella from a bucket full of them by the door. Her shoulder smashed into the front door and she ran on through the corridors of row upon row of numbered doors. She brought her power back, saving it for when she needed it, and saw the door that she needed; 303.
The door gave in to her sturdy kick and she moved past the questioning woman in the kitchen. She came at Amy with a knife, but the umbrella Amy was holding suddenly found itself inside the woman’s stomach. She gurgled and fell to the ground, and Amy drew the weapon holstered underneath her shoulder- a 50. AE Desert Eagle. She held it ahead of her; sights trained on the bedroom door, and fired two shots, one at the top hinge and one at the bottom.
She knew that the man inside wouldn’t shoot her. His thoughts were clouded with too much curiosity- he wanted to know how and why she was here. She didn’t care. She didn’t even know his name. She just knew that he had to die.
Amy pulled the trigger.

Israel Elysium sighed on the edge of the window cleaners platform and looked on as the woman somehow managed to accurately angle herself towards the building...


...Aaaaaaand end scene. See how short that was? I think I was going to go somewhere with it. Actually, I can't quite remember, but I think I did. I just don't know where I put it. Something about a barfight and Spring Heeled Jack. I'm not even going to look for it...

Things to note on that story; I struggled for a power to give Amy, and I wanted it to be pretty damn cool, so I thought "Why not Telekinesis?" Buuuut that power has already been chosen by a couple of awesome bloggers already, so that's why the Amy Hawkeye stories just kinda...drifted off...and never got completed... XD I didn't want to infringe on those OCs that were already created.
Another thing to note is the number on the door; 303. In a lot of my writing, I will reference things that not everyone will get because they will be incredibly obscure and just plain stupid. This is one of those things. 303 is the number on a few doors in The Matrix, namely the door at the end of the first movie as Neo is running through the apartment complex. This is not the first (Nor the last) reference I will make to The Matrix. So I apologize in advance for anyone that won't get them :P

What else was there? Oh, yes. Amy 'angles her descent' to the window, and somehow manages to fly right through it without clipping the sill or anything. I put this down to the Telekinesis; you know, the manipulation of objects and such, and she had tried it on herself so that she could accurately enter the building without hurting herself. Completely unrealistic. One of the many reasons why I didn't continue this story.

So, this is the first day of Christmas. Well, it isn't, but it's the first day of myyyyy Christmas XD Please! Enjoy!


EDIT:

Hey guys! Louis has been helping me mess around with design and stuff of my blog. In the end, we only ended up changing one thing, and it's the little Favicon at the top. Right now, yours should automatically be the Blogger symbol, but if you go to your browser settings and empty the cache (If you use Google Chrome, you should easily be able to search this in the browser's Settings) and then refresh the page, you will then see the Blogger icon replaced! Success! One step closer to world domination!

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

HAAAAAAAAAAAPPY BIRTHDAY!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAREST KALLISTA :D


Kallista, you have- and always will- a special place in my heart, right next to my love of Butterbeer and lots of hugs.
In the last couple of years that I've known you, I've seen a brilliant sister that has proved herself time and time again despite struggles that seem insurmountable. You push on always, and seem to have a smile for each and every member of Blogland that you meet. 
You're a shining light among the dark, Kal, a beacon that never dims and gives the kind of friendship I'd die for.

...Plus, you're like, fantastically kind to new people, something which I don't think I'll ever be able to do XD

Alright, enough rambling from me :P

EDIT:

Oh hey! How could I forget? Like Lenka said, Lizzy had this great idea to make happy birthday videos from us to you. So here's mine- enjoy 20 odd seconds of me singing :P


EDIT EDIT:
OH GOD SO MUCH PIXELATION

SORRY FOR THE QUALITY IT LOOKED FINE ON MY COMP :(
Here's your Birthday Story, Kal :) 

The girl gasped in delight as the forests spread right before her very eyes, trees popping and snapping as they pushed themselves from the ground. As they did, grass sprouted and raced across the hills that were slowly raising themselves to the sky.
The forest lay beautiful and quiet, then. And the girl stood right in the heart of it.
And it was all hers.

Time didn't seem to affect this place, but the girl had a watch strapped to her wrist anyway. She kept glancing back at it, and watched as the numbers crept slowly forward, moving from 6:28 to 6:29 and then seeming to stop. There was no way to properly define the watch, of course. Every time she tried to look closely at it, the watch face would become impossibly unfocused and swirl around, and she would somehow see the numbers among the mess.
That was the problem with this world. If she focused too long on something, it would become fuzzy and indistinct. And yet, if she only saw something out of the corner of her eye, it would seem completely real...
She was crouching in a little nook of the pine tree when she saw him. The moment she glimpsed his figure, she struggled to turn her head towards him. Time came and went and slowed down just for her, as if it was playing a game. But it was a dangerous game, and it was with the Queen of this world...
She forced her neck to turn properly, and suddenly she had him in her sights. Her mind couldn't figure out the figure, and tried identifying him at a thousand miles per minute instead.
Slender- a teache- Dementor-
Hello, Michelle, he said.
His lips didn't move but they were definitely his words. She went to respond but suddenly her watch was crawling again, and moved from 6:29 to 6:30. Her eyes widened in surprise to the size of dinner-plates and then kept widening, and all the trees melted away in a rush of scratched records and nails on a blackboard... A boat arose out of the mist that curled by her feet- which were now trees- and blared its foghorn, once, twice, and on the third time-

She awoke.

She slapped her hand down onto the alarm's snooze button and lay there for a moment, eyes staring out the window. She tried to remember her dream. She really did. But all that came to her mind of her dream and then sudden nightmare, was a large brown overcoat of some kind...
An intruder her dreams. That had never happened before.
A yelling from downstairs halted her from drifting to sleep again. She sighed and tugged her quilt back. Her feet touched the cold floor and led her to the kitchen, where her hands moved of their own accord and made herself some breakfast. She stared numbly at the TV and munched down on her toast. All in all, it was a very boring morning.
So was walking to school.
Sitting in school.
"Learning" at school.
Walking home from school.
And lastly, looking blankly at the homework she had brought with her.
5:42pm. The homework denied any creativity, and stubbornly made her work for the next two hours before she gave up and threw it across the room.
8:01pm. No-where near the time that she normally went to sleep. But she didn't need another hour awake. Not here. Not in this world.
She changed clothes and flicked the lights off. The covers were pulled up.
All in all, a boring day. She stared at the roof in darkness and the words suddenly floated up to her mind, just as she was falling asleep.
"Hello, Michelle."
She sat bolt-upright in bed. She had said them aloud. But it wasn't her voice. She put a hand to her throat, worried and scared, and searched the darkness. But no-one was there. It was just her.
Someone had said that to her earlier today. She was sure of it. Well, a couple of people had said those words, or different variations of it, anyway. But that wasn't what her mind was trying to tell herself. It was trying to tell her about the dream...
And suddenly, she understood. The man in the brown coat.The imposter. Her mind raced again, asking all sorts of questions of herself. She struggled to keep herself calm, though. She fought down the dual feelings of excitement and of anxiety from rising up. A clear head. That's what she needed. A clear head, and then-
Her head hit the pillow, and sleep dragged her under...

Her eyes closed in the real world and opened in the other. The trees popped and snapped and brought her to the sky. When the world stopped forming, she gazed around at the beautiful forests and perfect mountains at the perfect distance away from her forests. She sat atop the tallest pine in the whole lot, and smiled.
There was a rustling in the tree next to her. A head with purple streaks peeked out from behind a branch, and large, bright eyes peered like luminous orbs.
"Skyril!" Michelle called to her, and helped her up to the highest branch.
Skyril gave Michelle one of her rare smiles. Skyril was a quiet girl, and Michelle's faithful companion in the dream world.
Michelle had created Skyril one day out of loneliness. It had taken a lot of her time, but she finally managed to do it. She never had quite gotten emotion to show through Skyril's voice, however.
"Hi, Micky," Skyril said flatly.
Skyril was like an extension of Michelle. But she had her own thoughts and morals and was just as good as any other friend. Her best companion.Her only companion.
They sat, swinging slightly on the branch high above her world. Skyril pulled sandwiches out of a backpack that wasn't there moments before and handed a couple to Michelle.
"Skyril," Michelle said, after what seemed like an hour, although probably wasn't long at all. "Were you here yesterday?"
"I'm always here, Mic."
"No, but... did you see... did you hear..." Michelle struggled to form words to explain. "The Imposter. Do you know of him?"
Skyril cocked her head to the side, puzzled. "Imposter...?"
"He was here yesterday-" Michelle began.
"-Last night," Skyril corrected.
Michelle shook her head. "It was right before I woke up. I saw him and... he wasn't from here. I don't know how he got in. This is my dream. My world.My trees.All of it. Mine."
Skyril gave a rare smile. "You're so immature."
Michelle laughed and tried to reply. But she couldn't. She frowned suddenly, and spoke several words, but none of them had sound. Beside her, Skyril also frowned, and let off a sentence to find that her words had been silenced, too.
In fact, Michelle couldn't hear anything. The sounds of the wildlife, almost a backing track that ran on a loop in the forest, had ceased. The wind pushed the trees violently, but there was no sound. Nothing.
It scared her.
Michelle tried to change it. It was her world, and it was upheld by her rules. So, she changed the rules. But they held stubbornly. Something was holding them. And it wasn't her.
The wind pushed the trees violently and Michelle cried out silently as she fell straight out of the tree. Branches cut into her but the last few turned to pillows and softened her fall.
She peered up at Skyril, who waved from the top of the trees and rapidly climbed down.
Michelle gave her the thumbs up and Skyril returned it. Skyril pointed to her mouth and spoke some muted words, most likely asking what had happened to the sound. Michelle just gave a shrug. She beckoned Skyril over, but the dream-girl halted immediately.
What's wrong? Michelle mouthed to Skyril.
Look,Skyril mouthed back, and pointed over Michelle's shoulder.
He was standing in the corner of her eye. She couldn't see him. But she knew he was there.
She turned.
He had a brown coat, like before. It fell to his shins and stayed there, covered in dusty patches. His hair was brown and messy, his beard was surprisingly clean-cut and his leather boots were heavy and pressed firmly into the forest floor.
Everything about him was wrong. This whole thing. It was all wrong, and Michelle couldn't stop the man as he walked closer, closer until he was standing only a few metres away. His features burned themselves into her subconscious.
The Imposter spoke, but his words weren't muted. As it was the only sound Michelle could hear, it was crisp and clear.
"Run," he said, and then more urgently; "It will be here soon. It's already muted all sound. We need to get out of here."
What will be here? Michelle asked, or at least tried to. And who are you?
There was silence.
And then, with an eerie ringing and popping noise, sound returned to her world. Almost instantaneously, the ground in front of her buckled and crawled and became alive with movement. The Imposter strode forward but roots snapped and snarled around his feet, holding him still. He shouted but Michelle's eyes were focused forward, gazing at the bubbling mass of horror before her.
It constantly changed shape as it pushed itself from the earth. It grew the spindly legs of spiders and the scaly skin of snakes. The clawed arm of a stone Angel reached out and grasped at the hem of Michelle's dress, but withered away once it touched her. The sound of tires screeching and skidding and gut-wrenching screams emanated from the nightmare before her, but they were all chopped up and spliced into another. Dogs barking, glass smashing and the very essence of terror wound itself around her head and creeped in through her ears, shutting down everything. She sobbed and collapsed and held her arms tight over her head, trying to block the assault. But it was too late, the fear had lumbered through her mind and she was nothing, nothing in her own world, her own sanctuary compared to the-
"NO!" came a shout from above her, and her eyes cracked open. The Imposter stood next to her, shouting into the heart of the impossible creature that had spawned in her dream. Wind whipped around them fiercely. A small hand tapped her on the shoulder and Michelle looked up to see Skyril crawling towards her. They grabbed each other’s hands, and Skyril began to drag them slowly away.
The Imposter continued to shout and yell at nightmare. It had grown to the size of some of the smaller trees, towering over the man in the brown trench-coat. It rose like a wave and dived, beginning a new assault on him, but halted almost instantly. He just laughed maniacally and pulled an odd-looking charm from around his neck.
"Oh," he said, a grin spread across his face as the wind threw his hair wildly around his head. "You recognize this?"
The creature formed many mouths in the space of a second and screamed at him, but he was unaffected. The mouths melted away and became hands, arms that tried to grab him and pull him to pieces. But they never reached him, not a single one even touched his coat.
"That's right," the Imposter said, holding the charm and walking confidently forward. "You're not the first Nightmare I've faced."
As he strode forward, the creature of horror screeched and fell backwards in its haste to retreat. Wave upon wave of bubbling sludge solidified into hard stone and eventually stopped completely. The nightmare was nothing but pure stone. The claws and scarred faces were now frozen in an eternal sleep.
The wind died down. Skyril stopped dragging Michelle and both of them sat up warily.
"Didn't I tell you to run?" The man with the brown coat said. He walked towards them and Michelle stood up suddenly, Skyril right behind her.
"Stop!" she cried. "Give me some answers right now! Who are you? How did you get in here? And what is that?!" She pointed towards the statue of the nightmare not ten metres away.
The man stopped walking and sighed. "My name is Israel. Weird, I know. It's about to get weirder." He gestured behind Michelle and Skyril. "That... thing was a Nightmare."
Michelle turned to look at it again, but it had disappeared. All that was left was a strange black splotch on the grass. "Where'd it go?" she asked him, starting to walk closer to the place where it had been.
"It had been defeated, so it left. Stop walking! Do not go near the black mark. In fact, try and give it some space."
"What is it?" Skyril asked, tilting her head to the side. "It's like there's...nothing there."
"That's because there isn't. The Nightmare, it's going to try and erase everything. It started to take away sound, but stopped once it arrived. That black mark right there is what happens when it starts erasing things. That black mark is pure nothingness. You fall through that and you'll keep falling."
"A Nightmare..." Michelle began. "But I've never even had one of those before... not since I was at most five years old."
"It's because of you," Israel said. "Haven't you noticed yet? This dream, this world. It's so lifelike." He knelt down and picked a few blades of grass from the lush forest floor. "No-one should be able to do this. It's impossible. No-one should be able to create life so realistic-" He gestured to Skyril, who remained impassive as ever "-or have this much control at all times. And yet... we do."
"We?" Michelle asked.
"I'm a frightfully good day-dreamer," Israel replied with a smile. "I used to have dreams like this all the time." His face turned grim. "But that's the problem. It shouldn't be like this. You became so good that you've even stopped general Nightmares from attacking you. So, they bid their time. Because that's what evil does; it waits. A thousand nights are but the blink of the eye for Nightmares."
"So you're saying that every Nightmare I should have ever had, but didn't because I was all-powerful and had control of my dreams, has now joined together to become some super-Nightmare and try to erase everything?" Michelle shook her head. "This is crazy. I'm sorry, but this is crazy. How the hell did you get in here, anyway?"
There was a roar in the distance that echoed through the trees. When it sounded all three of them spun around to face it.
"Come on!" Israel said, and grabbed both Skyril and Michelle's hands. "I won't be able to stop it so easily next time. We need to get to my boat."
"You brought a boat?" Skyril shouted over the sudden wind that was picking up.
"Not just any boat," Israel said, grinning.
They burst out of the treeline and beheld a fantastic sight. Before them was a huge lake that spread for what must have been a thousand metres. And on the edge of that lake proudly sat a magnificent ship, an old galleon with polished brass headpieces and recently lacquered wooden beams. It flew a blue flag upon the mast and simply glowed with brilliance.
Michelle gasped in awe, but Israel wasn't paying attention. He sprinted the last few metres to the lake's bank and leapt with an inhuman ability. He landed safely on the deck of the galleon and quickly swung a rope ladder down the ship's flanks.
Skyril reached the ladder first and climbed it almost mechanically. Her arms moved like pistons and by the time Michelle grabbed held of the first rung, Skyril was on the eighth.
There was another roar from the forest and it was much closer now. Panicked, Michelle shot up the ladder as fast as she could. On deck, Israel climbed up to the helm and grabbed a lever next to the ship's wooden steering wheel. He pulled it and the cream sails unfurled from the three masts and instantly billowed on the wild wind. He ran to the chain that secured the anchor and untangled it, then threw the entire thing into the lake and ran to the next task. By this time, Skyril had reached the top of the ladder and pulled herself to her feet.
"Pull Michelle up!" Israel shouted, and then sprang back up to the helm. The ship had finally begun to move forward at a steady pace, but Israel knew it wouldn't be anywhere near fast enough to escape the Nightmare. He span the wheel regardless, and slowly the galleon tilted to the right and out towards the smooth surface of the lake.
The rope ladder that Michelle was climbing up suddenly was yanked upwards by Skyril. She almost lost her grip on the rungs but managed to hold tight as Skyril pulled her upwards to the ship's deck. She clambered up the last few rungs with the help of her friend and looked in wonder at the beauty of the ship.
"How did you even...?" Her voice trailed off.
"You ask way too many questions," Israel said, and pulled a lever towards himself forcefully. The boat lurched forward and Israel smiled. "You hear that? All we need now is, what...sixty seconds?"
He pulled another lever and heaved on a rope that sent him swinging across to the other side of the ship. He grabbed two more ropes on his way back and threw their ends to Skyril and Michelle.
"Grab hold-" he said as he swung past them to the helm again. "-and pull tight!" he finished on his swing back to the bow.
The boat was moving at a steady pace now and was at least a hundred metres away from the banks of the lake. As Skyril, Michelle and Israel pulled down on the three ropes, three separate sails slid from compartments on the ship; one on each side of the hold and one extending outwards from the galleon's rudder.
There was another roar, now.
Israel alighted onto the helm of the ship with Michelle and Skyril. They watched as the treeline burst apart in a shower of fallen leaves and upturned roots.
The Nightmare snarled in anger at its fast-escaping prey. It was large, now, much bigger than it had been when it faced them earlier. It towered above the few trees left standing from its rage, and seemed to have a more definitive shape. Apelike arms and legs extended from a muscled and scarred torso, and a head shaped like a squashed loaf of bread sat on a stubby neck. Even from her place on the helm of the ship, Michelle could clearly see the disproportionate canine teeth that forced themselves from bloodied and torn gums in the Nightmare's mouth.
Even as she watched, bits of the Nightmare bubbled and boiled and were constantly changing, building the creature into something more horrifying than before.
"Ten seconds," Israel said, turning his back to the monster on the lake's shore. When he did, he missed the beast as it flexed its leg muscles and sprang, gliding over the lake and landing fifty metres closer to them. Where it landed was unsure; the clawed feet of the beast clutched strangely at the surface of the lake and somehow used it to spring another fifty metres.
"Israel..." Michelle said, watching the Nightmare. It only needed one more bound and it would be upon them.
"I know," Israel replied without looking back. "But watch this."
There was a lever that hadn't been there before with a polished brass handle instead of a wooden one. The captain of the ship smiled and pulled the lever right down.
The entire boat shot forward across the water with sudden speed and urgency. The Nightmare made a final lunge but landed too short from its target. The ship sped away and began to bounce along the surface of the water, moving so fast that it was like a stone skipped from one side of the lake to the other.
With every bounce the boat jumped higher and higher until the huge wing-like sails that were on the side of the boat caught the wind and the entire boat lifted like a feather on the wind. It moved surprisingly fast for such a huge object and faster still it flew as it gained altitude and soared out to the further reaches of the dream world.
Israel broke out in maniacal laughter and Michelle couldn't help but join in. The wind threatened to push them all over the railings of the boat but nothing could deter the excitement that was bubbling inside of her. They were flying! Sure, she had done it before while dreaming, but this was ten times better.
"Things aren't usually this realistic," Michelle shouted over to Israel. "Things are mostly unfocused."
"It's because I'm here," Israel replied. "I told you; I'm quite the day-dreamer myself. Flying was one of the first things I wanted to do once I realised how easy it was for me to dream. And once I started flying, I never stopped."
Skyril rapped her knuckles onto a wooden beam and it gave a sturdy knocking back to her. "How'd you even get this boat into the dream?"
"It's all up here," Israel tapped his temple with his forefinger. "Took me an age to think up the technical parts. Everything had to work properly, you see." He cranked another lever by the steering wheel and stepped back. The ship flew of its own accord, keeping a steady pace. "It's called the Albatross. Come on inside, I'll get you a drink."
Skyril wandered to the railings and peered over to the ground rushing four hundred metres below. "I'm going to stay here for a while. It's...calming. I'll tell you if the Nightmare comes back."
"Thanks," Israel called to her, before descending down the steps into the hold of the ship with Michelle behind him. She shut the large wooden door and turned to see the boat's belly.
The hold had been split into several sections by wooden walls that also supported the frame of the galleon. Michelle glimpsed a bedroom behind an open door and part of a kitchen behind another. Israel and Michelle disappeared into the latter, and Israel dove straight into the cooler that was chained to the floorboards. Michelle sat down at the small round table unsurely and Israel's head reappeared from the cooler and lobbed her a brown bottle.
Michelle laughed when she saw the name on the bottle. "Butterbeer? You're kidding me."
"Hey, it's all a dream," Israel said, smiling back at her and breaking the seal on his own drink as he sat down too. "Alright.Question time; go!"
Michelle drank a few sips of Butterbeer first and thought to herself. It was like liquid gold and was by far the best drink she'd ever tasted. She wondered how he'd made it in the dreamworld. Did he just imagine the Butterbeer straight out of the Harry Potter books, or did he try coming up with the flavour himself?
She took another gulp and decided that he had probably just imagined it as it was from the books. Israel was still waiting. She studied twin streaks of faded ink running down his cheeks, starting from the corners of his eyes and ending at his chin. With a start, Michelle realized she was still silent and apologized to him for keeping him waiting.
"Sorry, I just kinda...drifted off for a second there," she said sheepishly.
Israel frowned immediately. "You're sleepy." It wasn't a question.
"I guess...Why, what's wrong?"
"I'm not sure, yet. I don't know of anyone that's fallen asleep within a dream. I'm guessing that it's bad, very bad. Try to stay awake, and tell me if you're feeling sleepy again." Suddenly, there was a glass of water in his hand and he splashed it directly into her face.
"Hey!" she shook droplets of water from her face. "Brrr. Don't do that again."
"I'll throw you off the boat and into the lake if it means you'll stay awake."
His face was grim, and Michelle realized that he wasn't kidding.
"Alright...First question." Michelle looked around the kitchen in thought, and all of a sudden it was right in front of her. "Ok; what's that charm thing, the necklace you used against the Nightmare?"
"Good question." Israel pulled it out of his jacket and threw it to her. She caught it and was surprised to find that it was stone cold. Upon close inspection, she was almost horrified by it, and she quickly dropped it to the table. It was a rough piece of leather that looped to become the necklace part of the charm. The bit connected to the end of the leather was hard to explain. It could be described as a sort of shrivelled and shrunken heart. It appeared to have all of the correct valves and the four main sections, although, to be honest, Michelle had fallen asleep during that lesson in school. It was the deepest black in colour, and... throbbed with mini heart-beats, as if it was still alive. She turned away in disgust, feeling queasy.
"It's the heart of another Nightmare," Israel explained. "The Nightmare used to be in my dreamworld. I was just like you; I made the mistake of letting it grow."
"How did you kill it?" Michelle said, taking care not to look at the shrivelled heart.
"To be honest... I don't remember." He scratched the back of his head absently. "I think I made myself forget. I had too much control of my dreamworld, you see, just like you do. And power corrupts. If I kept that power in my own world, all it would do is brew Nightmares.
"So I made myself forget. I think the process is easy enough. I get nightmares every so often in my dreams, but they're normal nightmares now." He averted his gaze. "Some of them give me glimpses into what I had forgotten. And I think that for a moment, I'll remember everything. Then the nightmare will end and I'll forget again..."
"Only through your nightmares you can see your past..." Michelle shook her head. "That's terrible."
"Yeah." He grabbed the charm and lowered it around his neck. "Next question."
"How'd you get in here?"
"Honestly? I was walking by and thought I might drop in."
She scoffed. "Bull. Why should I trust you?"
"Because it's me or it's the Nightmare."
"How do we kill the Nightmare?"
He paused and she smiled. She had caught him off guard.
"I...I don't entirely know, yet. I told you, I can't remember how I did it. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
Michelle finished the last of her drink and put the bottle on the table in front of her. She yawned and Israel gave her an odd look.
"What happens when we die here?" Michelle asked.
He studied her face for a moment before answering. "The body cannot survive without the mind. If you die here, you die in the real world."
She tried to hide her fear but Israel grunted and saw it. Suddenly, there was the thudding of shoes on the wooden stairs and Skyril burst forward into the kitchen.
"The ship's rising," she said flatly, and Israel stood up.
The three of them rushed out of the ship's belly and out onto the deck. Instantly, they were buffeted by the winds that were once again speeding up. The sails were filled and gloriously illuminated by the shining sun as the ship soared across the dreamworld. The ground was now far, far below them and sped by at twice the pace it had been before.
Israel was at the wheel of the galleon and checking some ancient gauges set beside it. His forehead creased in worry and he kept looking back up at the sails and the sky.
"This isn't good," he muttered aloud. There was sudden thunder and they looked upwards and to the front to see steel clouds gathering. The rain fell in sheets within seconds, soaking the three.
"It's the Nightmare!" Israel shouted over the thunder and rain. "It's messing with everything it can!" He called Skyril over and got her to hold onto a lever and stop it from springing back up again. "It's cancelled the gravity; we're going to fly straight through that storm!"
The dark clouds loomed ahead, infecting the once-blue sky that had been the playground of many a good dream. Now, as it menacingly waited to swallow them whole, Michelle was beginning to feel that there was no way they could win.
And then they met with the clouds and the world seemed to change.
Darkness, at first, and then they cleared the first cloud and were thrust into a sea of grey forms and crackling energy. Thunder boomed and wind whistled, and rather more dangerously, lightning danced around the hull of the Albatross and dared to skip onto the deck before skipping away again.
Michelle scrambled up the stairs that lead to the helm and held the railing for dear life as the boat rocked and groaned through the Nightmare's storm. Israel was shouting but there was no noise. He pointed to Michelle and Skyril and then pointed to the sails. "Choose a mast and cut the sails! We're rising too fast!"
He ran off and chose the farthest one from the helm. Skyril chose the middle mast, leaving Michelle to handle the last one. She looked up at the towering wooden beam and gave a sigh that was lost with the wind. There were sturdy bronze railings that formed a ladder and she climbed these as fast as she could with the strong gales pushing the Albatross to and fro. She had almost reached the crossbeam that held the sail when lightning started to play around her. It came with deafening thunderclaps that shook her to the very bones as she scaled the mast, scared and trying to remember quieter times. Shaking, her arms finally hoisted herself onto the crossbeam and there she clung to it. Looking over to Skyril on the other mast, she saw that her friend had already cut her sail down and was nimbly descending back to the deck. Skyril pulled something shiny from her belt and threw it with practised ease to Michelle. The silver knife thudded into the crossbeam centimetres from her elbow, startling her. She pulled the knife free and got to work sawing through the main rope that held the sail.
The sail was held by several ropes that all tied to onto a main one about as thick as Michelle's wrist. It was this main rope that she steadily cut away at while the lightning crackled around her.
Finally, the rope snapped apart and the sail came free, whipping instantly away and into the storm.
Triumphant, Michelle grinned and started climbing back down the mast. Her arms moved mechanically but already she was feeling tired...
She reached the deck and stumbled all of a sudden. Her hands found the railing of the ship's starboard side and clutched them with sweaty palms.
Her friends were calling her, she knew, but their voices were easily lost in the thunder and wind. She gazed over the edge and into the heart of the storm, and a tiny voice told her, no, urged her to just...fall.
She could see herself falling already. Gliding. She was so tired. How easy it would be, to just...slip away...
Time slowed down just for her and she watched in wonder as a bolt of lightning crackled past and ignited a part of the deck near her. Michelle smiled and simply let go of the railing, toppling over the edge of the Albatross's side.
A metre over the edge and she was jolted to a halt. She felt a hand grasping her own and she opened her eyes to peer up at the face looking down at her. Skyril wordlessly pulled her back onto the deck and calmly slapped her in the face.
"Stay awake," she said. "I don't know what'll happen if you fall asleep."
Michelle shook her head side to side. "I'm so sorry. Thanks, Sky."
"You two!" Israel called. He chucked a heavy rope to each of them, and started tying one of his own around his waist. "That can't happen again. Tie the rope around your waist, and hurry!" He fixed all three ropes around the main mast and knotted them tight.
Israel stumbled over and hurriedly pushed them up to the stairs to the helm, where he grabbed the wheel and spun it to the right. The Albatross banked with the wheel and narrowly missed two bolts of lightning. But the deck was already alight and fire was racing up the masts to create enormous crucifixes of flame. At any other time, Michelle would have been in awe. But it was fear that filled her instead. Fear of dying in a crazy dream and never waking up again, fear of never regaining control over her own dreams. Fear of the Nightmare.
"We're not going down!" Israel shouted. "We're being pulled up!"
It was true. The Albatross groaned as the nose lifted upwards and they renewed their ascent. Lightning flashed brilliantly across the shrouded sky and illuminated the fearful faces of the three on the deck. Fire was still raging and raced quickly up to the helm.
And then, they were clear of the clouds.
The yellow sun blinded them with its glare, but the sound of the thunderstorm was gone now, and all that was left was the blue sky stretching around them infinitely. The fire vanished the moment they cleared the storm but left giant patches of blackened planks on the galleon's deck. The view was even more spectacular from all the way up here. Glancing over the edge, Michelle saw that the storm and the hills were already far, far below them. And they kept growing smaller.
"What's it trying to do?" Israel thought aloud. "We're rising, fast. But we cleared the storm. Why do we keep rising? What's up?"
Michelle frowned. "The sky?"
"Yeah, but..." Israel squinted upwards. "Huh. Almost looks painted. Like, with a huge brush. Are you an artist, Michelle?"
"I've painted a few blue skies," she replied sheepishly.
"Oh," Israel said. "No. Really? That's not good. Not good at all." He pulled the charm out from around his neck and gripped it with his left hand, holding the boat's steering wheel in the other.
"What's wrong?" She eyed the Nightmare's heart warily. It still creeped her out.
"The bleeding effect, right?"Skyril answered for her. "Happens to everyone. Well, not me. Things you do in real life 'bleed' through to the dreamworld. Happens with subconscious thoughts frequently."
Michelle squinted at Skyril. "How do you know?"
"I am the subconscious," Skyril replied. "I painted the skies. And the hillsides, and the great seas and lakes. You may uphold the world, but your subconscious created it."
"She's right," Israel confirmed, grunting in effort and pulling a lever towards himself. "The subconscious builds the world, paints it and designs it based on your thoughts and memories and even skills. But the dreamer pulls it all together and holds it there."
The question arose on Michelle's mind but Skyril asked it first. Her head tilted slightly to the side.
"Where's your subconscious? Your companion?"
The man in the brown coat didn't answer. He stared for a moment at the sky. His gaze appeared unfocused but then sharpened and he started in fright. "I can see the brush strokes clearer, now. We're not slowing down, we're going to hit the sky!"
He gathered Skyril and Michelle next to the wheel and clasped their hands around the heart of the Nightmare. "We have to act fast. I'm going to siphon off a little of the heart's power for you to use. It's your world, so you have to take control. I'll try bringing the ship down, you two focus on creating more sky. You have to only concentrate on the sky. Even the tiniest doubt will mess it up. Ready?"
Michelle took a breath, clearing her mind of all the nagging little thoughts threatening to force their way into queries and out of her mouth. She dismissed the doubts and the fears and throughout it all, one tiny voice rang clear.
Do you trust him?
She stole a glance at the man laughing crazily at the helm of the Albatross, great-coat flying around his shoulders. He span the wheel with a swing of his arm and the boat tipped to the right along with it. She still didn't know how he even got here. "I said, are you ready?" He called to them both.
Yes, she answered to the voice in her head.
"Yes!" she shouted back to Israel. Skyril nodded.
"Brilliant!" Israel grinned.
Michelle placed her hands over Skyrils' and it was as if a great shadow was placed over the world. She frowned and looked up at Skyril. Her companion's eyes flitted around the place and struggled to stay focused. The pupils, once piercing blue, had darkened and were black and grey, tiny ebony veins of plague crawling out to cover the rest of the eye...
Michelle yanked her hand off of the heart, but the tiny black tendrils still spread out to cover the white orbs inside Skyril's head.
"It's ok," Israel said from the helm. "Let it happen. It'll just make things a little darker, that's all. You'll get used to it." Israel's own eyes were seemed bloodshot and stared frantically at the heart, as if he was at any moment about to leap forward and snatch it back.
Tentatively, Michelle reached forward again and clasped the heart. Skyril's eyes were covered by the inky substance fully now. Then the inky blackness dripped like tears and ran down Skyril's cheeks, leaving faded black streaks set there. Michelle recognized them instantly; they were the same lines that she had noticed on Israel's own face earlier. While she was studying her companion's eyes, her own vision was dimming rapidly. It got to the point where it appeared she was looking through thick sunglasses. And then her vision brightened a bit and she felt tears welling in the ducts of her eyes and threatening to spill over. They did, and she cried out as they burned and seemed to carve trenches down her cheeks. She went to wipe them away but they had already dried onto her face.
Skyril was staring intently at the Nightmare's heart. "We can use it now," she commented.
Michelle gazed at the heart herself and found that it was on fire with darkness, burning for eternity with flames black as sin. They were hazy and did not hurt her. But they whispered horrors and strange, alien words.
"Focus!" Israel shouted at them from the wheel.
Michelle gazed upwards at the sky. They were really close, now. The sky definitely seemed painted on with some giant's brush. She focused on a point in the sky and it groaned with an almighty sound. The clouds rippled and bulged and swallowed themselves whole, and the skin of the sky buckled and split and spewed forth more of itself. She didn't know how she did it; her thoughts were completely focused on making more sky. But there was one voice that spoke up, the voice of reason that raised its head and refused to lower it.
You can't do this, the voice told her. You can't 'make more sky'. We both know that's not how it works. You can't do this.
Michelle tried to silence it, she really did. But the voice just got louder and louder until it was almost shouting at her.
You can't do this! No-one can, and this isn't possible! Because we both know what happens in the real world if you get too high. We both know that the sky doesn't just keep going; it has to end sometime, and in its place is-
The blue sky vanished even as the voice of reason was speaking in her mind.
Tiny pinpricks of white light shone in the distance, tiny stars all burning ten thousand miles away. Black emptiness stretched away in every direction.
"The Nightmare's changed it to night-time!" Skyril said.
"No..." Israel looked around, and then ran to the edge of the ship and looked over. "Oh God, no... it's not night. We're in sp-"
His voice cut out and he gasped for a breath that wasn't there. He clutched at his throat but Michelle already knew it was no good. Because he was right; it wasn't just night.
They were in space.
If she had looked over the edge of the ship, she would have seen the dreamworld stretch out beneath them, remarkably similar to the earth. She would have seen the strangely shaped continents and the islands and the swirling clouds.
If she had time to, she could have tried focusing on the lake they had lifted off from, or anywhere else in the dreamworld but here, where there was no air and no salvation and nothing but emptiness and the promise of distant stars...
But she couldn't think of anything other than space. Israel passed out, still clutching the wheel of the ship, and Skyril tried crying out but couldn't. Michelle's mind raced as she still held the Nightmare's heart. She knew something was missing but even at a hundred miles a minute, she couldn't work it out. A huge white sphere, her mind offered, pockmarked with thousands of scars from the work of asteroids.
The air left her and she didn't try to keep it. Her body began to convulse and shudder for the need of oxygen, and suddenly, her mind focused that tiny bit more and she remembered what was missing.
The moon.
And with a whumpf of sound that shouldn't be there, a moon just bigger than their ship appeared before the Albatross and seemed to grin wickedly. Was it their doom, or their salvation?
Michelle's vision faded. Before it went completely, she saw the bow of the boat splinter as it collided with the moon. She felt herself jolt forward and then jolt backward again; the rope she had tied around her waist earlier kept her close to the deck of the ship, and safe.
The ship fell away from the miniature moon slowly, drifting towards the huge blue world below. Michelle looked up at the stars, and the faintest of smiles showed on her lips.

Her eyes closed, and the world went black beyond them.


To be continued...

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

ANOTHER EPIC BIRTHDAY :D

LIZZY

HAPPY BIRTHDAY :D

WOOT! Another year older! And another year closer to the zombie apocalypse. Didya have cake? Have a TF2 marathon? Tell me everything. Especially where you hid the bodies. Ha ha ha, isn't this fun? Conversing? Versing of the con? We know. Ohhhh k. Enough with the creepy voices, I think. 

In all honesty, tell me about your epic day and the loot you scored. Cos I'm imagining some pretty epic loot. Have I used the word 'epic' too much in this post? Not nearly enough.

Sorry :P I've given you this ramble of words for your birthday. Well, I'll give you a link to a website, though. Yes, I only just found this out. Please, guys: No-one yell at me XD


Amazingly awesome items. Cheap and ridiculously expensive. Everyone; enjoy.

Monday, September 24, 2012

A BIRTHDAY

SKYRIL!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY! :D

Skyril, I think you were the first person I chatted to on Derek's blog. Y'know, along with Lynith Fae and Insanity Moonshine (cupcakes?). You and I are basically seniors now (mumble grumble no-one gives us any respect mumble we started the blogs grumble damn noobs are taking over mumble grumble...), and you and I have had an epica friendship complete with some awesome points or discussion :P ("There's no place I would be, since I found Serenity...").

Sorry for all the brackets :P In the end, I hope you are having and continue to have a fantastic day :) No complimentary story, I'm afraid :/ I've heard that Kal's is brilliant, though.

*hugs tightly* Once again: Happy Birthday, Skyril!