From The Archives : Lenore Part 2

This was the second part for the piece I was working on called Lenore. If you recently read the first part I thought maybe you'd be interested in seeing how it continued. Have a great week, the weekend will be here sooner than you think.

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My home itself is nothing spectacular from the outside, and as we drove up on it on that rainy night it was hidden in the darkness. I hit my garage door opener and backed into the driveway, and the pale yellow outdoor light popped on and struggles to reveal what few facts of my home it could. But I doubt she noticed, because as I put the car in park and opened my door and stepped out, moving towards the wall to flip the lights on in the small area, she barely moved.

I will say that I am very proud of my small home and the way that it keeps me. It blends into the countryside fairly well, an old farm style house that's surrounded by trees that grew when the house was no longer a farm. Further down were my few neighbors, it was a lovely place for a Death Mignonette to live. With an old barn in the back, a small garage attached to the house that used to be a woodshed long ago, and approximately 8 rooms looming above the basement. I'd refinished all of them when i moved in.

As the fluorescent lights began to buzz and flicker to life, the stainless steel that filled the garage gleamed cheerfully. It was one thing to have to work in a garage at all. But I made sure i got to work their in a clean and medical type area. I noted that she looked slightly shocked as she stepped out of the car and took in my meticulously clean workshop.

"Yeah... I like to build things... I'm sure you've seen some of my work in town." I smiled lightly and leaned on the wall slumping my shoulders slightly. "But of late i haven't really had a muse." I wasn't lying. I'd been too busy trying to complete assignments to be able to start any new woodcrafting projects.

"Oh. I bet the metal makes it easier to clean up the shavings and keep it up." she responded curiosity in her tone as she moved towards the table where one of my barely started projects lay, scolding me for neglecting my creative  works. She absentmindedly ran her fingers over the cut in the wood and seemed to wonder what it was going to become.

"Yes... one might say that." i gave myself a shove and left my post at the wall and grinned at her. "Do you want to watch me work for a bit?"

"Could i?" she looked up from the table saw, her eyes sparkling a bit excited at the idea of watching me work on something artful, and she bashfully removed her hands from the wood.

"Certainly." I moved over and took my seat before the piece of wood that she'd been looking at. i unzipped my coat and shook it off revealing my black turtleneck that seemed to meld into my comfortable black lounge pants. I pride myself in always being prepared for anything. And this look nt only hide blood, but always looked professional. Let's just say i own a LOT of black turtlenecks and pants.

"Won't the sawdust cling to your clothes?" she asked blinking a bit as she looked me over.

"Doesn't matter. it brushes off easy enough." i picked my workshop glasses up off the table and put them on as i flipped the switch for the saw turning it on. I moved the wood slowly through the saw following the barely visible line i'd sketched... oh... how long had it been now... 4 days? before she'd entered the garage. The saw swept easily through the wood, and knowing my very own prey was watching me work, sent me to work with a frenzy, and a while later i turned the saw off and stood the small wooden piece up on the table.

"Wow... a unicorn!: she looked amazed and reached to pick it up.

"It's not finished yet..." I started to comment, and as she wrapped her fingers around it she let out a surprised yelp and dropped it back onto the table.

"oh...i'm sorry..." she stood it back up getting small blood speckles on the pale wood, and i shook my head.

"It's ok.. just don't get any more blood on it." I gently took her hand and looked it over and found where the splinters had snuck their way into her fingers. "Want me to take these out?"

"if you don't mind..." she looked a bit ashamed for having injured herself on the wood, but i'd known she would try to pick it up, that's why i had paused in my work on it. The few pieces that i keep for my own collection.. all have special meaning. And this piece, was undoubtedly fated to remain unsold and becoming part of my own inside collection.

"Certainly not. Come on inside." I picked my jacket up and paused at the car to snag my purse and get my house keys. Then i moved to the door and unlocked it and opened it and motioned her to go ahead on inside before me into the unlit house. "After you." I laughed softly when she hesitated but she didn't pause any further and stepped into the door and i followed behind her, relocking the door and sliding the bolt into place before hitting a few switched that sent the lights of the house to life, flickering softly and revealing the magical world that I lived in to her eyes.

"Oh....wow...." she stammered and blinked about taking it all in.... "You're Duela..."

Wings

Standing on the narrow window ledge looking down to the cement below, I feel a strange relief.  All that's left to do at this point is leap. The dying Queen city is quiet, most folks asleep in this slow place. Only the occasional sweep of lights float past as someone heads home from the last drink at the bar, or from closing up one of the office buildings. I imagine their weary eyes would never notice me here, nine floors up. Most of them honestly could never imagine living so far from the ground. Yet here I am, standing on the thin stone ledge my toes sticking out into the nothing before me.

I close my eyes inhaling deeply. Even so high, the smell of the fall leaves throughout the area fills my senses. I imagine if I looked out past the grey crumbling buildings I could see the orange tree tops at Tift Farms. But I don't bother to look. Instead I lift my eyes to the heavens, searching the stars and desperately looking for a reason to change my mind. But the stars only flicker and stare back, the full moon low and heavy in the sky. Her pale face holds no answers, but I can feel the cool breeze, colder now so late in the year than it had been in early summer. The breeze lifts my hair, sending loose strands to brush along my face and tickle my nose.

My hands, which have been pressed against the gritty grey stone of the building flex slightly. For a moment am uncertain how safe it is to lift one to brush away the hairs that are disrupting my reverie. But eventually I lift one hand, that in the moonlight looks pale and almost see through save for a dark line going from inside my elbow to my wrist. The blood from the self inflicted wound has slowed but it has not eased the pain within me. Looking back at the moon, I feel a pain shoot through the very core of my being. A despair for the joy and existence that once I had enjoyed. My heart yearns for a yesterday that may never have been. A time that I imagine, and believe with all my heart to have existed. My eyes lift again to the moon, as the pain strikes my heart again.

I let out a small cry, my shoulders leaving the stone work as a sharp stabbing pain shoots through their blades. My fingertips curl some holding to the stone work as the pain increases, I cringe, my feet shifting on the ledge as the back of my shirt is torn open. A coppery scent hits the air around me as I lean forward slightly more, my body morphing and pushing forward. I take a deep breath inhaling the smell that I recognize as my own blood. It's stronger now than I've ever smelled it before, and I inhale deeply. The pain at my shoulders numbs slightly but I can't lean back against the stonework now. Which means I can't got back to the window I came out of.

The frustration, angers, fears, and disappointments that have driven me to this point finally cause me to crack. Salty hot tears stream down my face as I shift again. In doing so I look over my shoulder, seeing a pair of blood coated wings pressed against the stone work. I can feel the chill that rolls through my body at the realization. I shift trying to see if I can spread them. They open wide with little effort the blood sprinkling around me as they unfurl. I look up into the sky again as if to find an answer for this. But there is no answer. The stars are silent and know nothing of my plight or what kind of peril this change may have in store for me.

Defeated and changed, I close my eyes again inhaling deeply the scent of the world and myself. There are so many things that I would have done differently, so many things that I would have seen changed. But none of that matters anymore. I understand now that I am nobody, and that in the end I will be the same as those that came before me. Forgotten. Then finally understanding, I lean forward into the cold night air; wings spread wide as I leave the ledges safety, unafraid of what may come.

A Darkness

They often say that it is darkest before the light comes back. I'm not really sure that I believe that anymore. The darkness stays, lingering and hiding the shining stars and joy from sight. Leaving one to wander in perpetual night. It is sadness and fear combined that leaves a soul lingering on the cusp of some imagined loss or breakthrough. Both or one alone nagging the edges of happiness, discouraging the creation of true joy. If only there was a light, that could pierce the veil of this darkness. A light that would offer true freedom from the chains of uncertainty and doubt. But I fear there is no light strong enough to offer the freedom so desperately desired. So in darkness, one waits. Lingering and clinging to the last sliver of hope for some shining light to save us.

Yet what is there to save? Nothing is left but a shell, the darkness has managed to stifle and kill that which was once vibrant and alive. Instead there is a hole, a deep abyss where the woes have begun to wallow. Pity, self pity and self loathing run rampant. Decorating the spirit with wounds of doubt and discouragement. There is none there to save thee, there will be nothing left for saving anyway. The little imps of the darkness gleefully declare.

But even so there is that tiny little spark. So small, I fear, even the slight breeze of a falling leaf may blow it out. This little spark is hope. Hope that perhaps, if one hangs on there will be a better tomorrow. Perhaps the light will shine in tomorrow. But for now, there is only the darkness. Were it not so, one wonders what the world would seem to be. But for now the deep velvet blackness of night hides the paths that may lead out into the vibrant rays of the sun. But there is that tiny spark of hope... perhaps...one day it will burst into a sun and throw it's beams from one border of the darkness to the other, banishing it from existence. One can only hope.

Grandfather Pluyta's Song

I was going through some of my older files recently, and I stumbled upon a folder buried in my writing folder. It's of a few short things I had been working on when Maru was working on the Jinopets project. It didn't last too long, but I remember how much fun it was. So I'm going to post a few of them here to share them with you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did then.

This is what a Pluyta was.

 The dawn of time

Was not long past

When our story first began

And the phoenix Aeroh took to flight

Giving the day its light

But not to be outdone by her

The silver Nigard took to the sky

And where the shadows fell at night

Made stars, and phoenix he reflected.

The waters bubbled and broiled as deep beneath the sea

The Nasinar started to chant

And creatures filled the sea

On the land the earth was barren

 But the Metak saw to that

Forest soon were growing

And the scent of flowers filled the land.

Khaurn though scorned the daylight

And took to making caves

Kenja being quick to the chase took to the plains

The others all divided, living close and far

And each of them was different

But no single one can be called the star

For in truth as is reality

To be fruitful and have joy

There must be some interaction

And everyone must have a voice

After the jino’s had taken to the world

Humans seemed to just appear and populate

Far corners of their earth

And as we find now, as we see

Jino’s and humans are family

For together there is much to learn

Together they can destroy or build

Which brings us to today

Remember that the choice you make

Can affect another’s day

Freedom's Lost

Freedoms are no longer free
they all come with a cost.
people have become unwise
common senses lost.

There is a certain hunger
driving common man,
looking for a wealth
without a cause to understand.

Freedom once meant flying
on wings of fancy free
now our wings are clipped
and the skies only to be seen.

Kept grounded from our purpose,
lost in others dreams.
things are more confusing
our own ripped at the seams.

but even in this madness
and the sadness that we see
there is still a chance there
that we all yet can be free

The chains may yet be broken
of the grounding we have gained
if we realize and see now
That we are the ones to blame.

By giving others power
over the choices we may have
we've given them our freedoms
Becoming societies slaves

They take away our reason
leave us barely to survive
but even as they grieve us
they leave us yet alive

Ours eyes can see
our ears still hear
our days go moving on
The time is marching swiftly
As the years fly seasonally on

Don't despair of freedom
there is no true loss you see
you're only ever as free
as you believe yourself to be

k.m.b. 2013

Not Your Home town Hero (1)

All our lives we look for somewhere that we fit. We go through the motions of daily life, some of us losing our way and becoming listless and empty. But what if the time we spend here is only being used as a training ground? The idea isn't comforting, since in truth, the fear of the unknown riddles the world with a whole lot of negativity.

Understanding nothing, and standing before the pearly gates of Heaven in my worn out sneakers and thrashed jeans I was worried. All my life I had been rather skeptical about the whole Heaven thing. Sure, I'd gone to church with my family, but that didn't mean I was subscribed to the daily bread.Besides, as far as I was concerned, it wasn't my time yet. I mean, no one wants it to be their time. But I'd been on my way to an audition. One that I was sure I was going to land.

By the time Saint Peter called my name I was very angry. I felt robbed, and I wasted no time in letting him know it.

"You know, It's not fair! Just when I was finally getting somewhere in life I end up here!"

The Saint laughed, his blue eyes mirthful with a hint of understanding in the corners. "Yes, many of us feel that way when we first get here. But fair isn't the point. Need is. Besides child, would you rather be at the gates of hell?" His tone was teasing, but I still felt slightly shocked.

"Need?" I responded once I got control of my mouth again.

"Oh yes, you're needed here on this side. A guardian angel can't masquerade down there among people forever you know." He responded simply, as though it was something that should have been obvious to me.

"You're joking right?" Though I knew it was a bit improbable I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a chill raced down my spine.

"No, we don't joke too often here at the gates these days. We've found it holds up progress." His tone implied that he was already getting annoyed. and as he glanced over my shoulder at the throng of people waiting to be admitted, I knew I didn't have much time left with him. "If you'd kindly enter the gates of Heaven you can report to the Angel Hope. He can fill you in on your duties." He waved his hand, and I felt shooed towards the gate by invisible hands as the gates opened.

"Answers!" I shouted over my shoulder as I passed the gates. "I hope he has answers!"

The gates shut behind me with a slight snapping sound. And there was silence. Looking through the bars behind me, I saw nothing outside them. Before me, wasn't the classic heavenly scene the books and movies often offered. No streets of gold. Instead I saw what appeared to be a copy of my home city of Buffalo, built of some sort of silvery opalescent material. And I was standing on main street. Slightly baffled by this, I shrugged and proceeded to wak along it. I hadn't been walking far when I saw it.

Hope's Guardian Angel Agency. The sign was large, hanging over the entrance to what had been the main place mall on earth. The idea that anyone would revive the old place in such a way, amused me. As I made my way towards the doors I could feel a smile twisting my lips. If only my cousin could see this. I was just about to pull the door open, when a hand rested on my shoulder.

"Don't bother going in yet. Someone told me you have questions."

I looked over my shoulder, and felt the color as it heated my cheeks. Ok, whoever had decided that the dead didn't feel anything was wrong. Because as I met those green eyes with my own, I felt a lot of things rush over me.

"Hey! Hey! None of that now! It's not a good time to get distracted. I need you back out to earth as soon as possible kid." He smiled pulling his hand back, slowly brushing it through his red hair. "Someone really needs you."

"Yes....well... I need answers." I finally responded while smoothing my shabby clothes in an attempt to appear more presentable. "He said they don't like jokes at the door. But the irony is that I was on my way to an angel audition when I ended up here. "

"Yeah, That was my ad."

Shock hit me, and I blacked out.

Hole In The Wall (1)

A good story isn't decided by the author. But I do hope that you will enjoy reading Hole In The Wall as it is written. Eventually am hoping that you will think it is a good story. There may be some changes to it made over time, but for the time being, I hope that you enjoy it for what it is. If I do make any changes to it in the future, I will make sure to note the dates that there were updates to it made at the bottom of the page.

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Chapter 1. Hole In The Wall

There was a small hole in the wall, down in the corner, where the wooden molding didn’t meet properly. Something had chewed through the wall years ago, and it had never really been covered up or sealed. In fact no one had ever even noticed it. A small dresser had been standing there for years hiding it from view, but now as the house was emptied, the hole in the wall was the only thing in the room. It was a nice hole, with an arching top, the bottom flat along the floor boards. Dark shadows beyond it hiding the secrets of what was inside.

But the movers didn’t care; their job was to move out all the furniture. And once the room was bare save for the worn crimson carpet, they pulled the shade down over the small window of the room to keep prying eyes out. After the rest of the rooms on the second floor of the little house were empty, a saleswoman moved through each room. She made sure every shade was down, and pulled each door shut.

The only open thing in the house after they left was the hole in the wall. A silence fell inside the house, and darkness fell outside the little house. As the hours passed the small building shifted its aching timbers slightly, almost as though sighing and missing what had been within its walls. But the little hole was still there. While some may think a hole is nothing, to some such things can be the world.

This is where our story begins. In that empty room, with the door closed tight and the old worn shade pulled down keeping out even the small curious eyes of the stars. As the house sighed, something within its walls stirred. And had anyone been in that room where the little hole was, they would not have believed their eyes.  For as midnight drew near, sounds started to pour from the little hole.

Sad forlorn music came from within the walls of the little house; almost as though the house itself was weeping. While the music played small things crept from within the walls and started to gather on the now empty carpet. These things were quiet as they gathered on the carpet, until the music stopped. Then there was a small uproar that would have woken most. But since there were no people in the house, the things were not afraid of waking them.

You see, the hole in the wall had once been the home of a mouse. But the mouse had turned his residence over to a small goblin before he passed away. And as goblins go, it is unusual that one would want to live within a house. But this little goblin was not your garden variety goblin. He only stood 3 inches tall. This meant he was not big enough for most things goblins are expected to do. So he took over residency in the little hole that at the time had been behind a dresser.

Goblins, similar to the other fairy tale creatures, tend to live a very long time. They don’t worry about dying or change, and they find amusement in the actions of humans. This goblin was worried though. And he stopped playing his sad music and went out of the hole to great his entourage. His large dark eyes which could see very well in the dark, had tears in the corners as he viewed his worried companions.

There was a small doll. She had once been quite beautiful, and very loved by a little girl who had lived in the house many years ago. But her small porcelain face had been cracked, and she was forced to hide. The goblin rescued her, and she had joined him in the little hole. She had been the first companion. Time had not been kind to her, her curls that once had been shining gold, were now dusty and braided with cobwebs. But the goblin didn’t care, for he could still the beauty there.

There was a small felted pony, which was missing one hoof. A plush rabbit that was missing an eye, and a handful of plastic soldiers and Indians that had seen better days. There were many others, and all together, including the goblin their number was thirty. They had all joined the goblin over the years that passed since he had taken over residency from Mr. Mouse. The goblin smoothed his tattered coat as the toys shifted in the new uncertainty of the empty house.

“The house has never been truly empty before.” The Goblin finally said. His voice was low and sadness was etched into the edges of his words. “We are here still, so it is not as empty as it could be, but it is empty. I do not know if we will be safe without the people here in the house.”

“I don’t think we need to worry.” The doll responded, her painted blue eyes coated with dirt, marring her vision. Some people say they cannot see clearly a situation, the doll, certainly was having trouble seeing things for what they were. “People are not always kind, you know.” She added, one small porcelain hand moving to cover the crack that ran from her eye down along her neck. “They can be careless and hurt us.”

The other toys murmured in agreement with the doll. She was their leader whenever the goblin was away. But he was not happy with their quickness to judge their circumstances.

“This is not Toyland.” He said bitterly. “We are not safe without people here. Humans tend to tear down old houses when there is no one living in them any longer.” He crosses his skinny arms, long fingers tapping his elbows agitatedly as he waited for the meaning of his words to become realized by the toys.

The toys all shifted anxiously. They had not thought about the possibility that the little house which was their sanctuary might be destroyed. People are after all, as they all knew from experience, fickle things. They will love you until you are broken or hurt, and then they will throw you aside.  The toys had never thought about people doing such things with houses. A cry of distress came from the felted pony, and soon moved through the other toys, many of whom fell over.

“What are we to do? I don’t know if any of us could make it to Toyland in the state that we are in!” The pony shifted, limping some. “Even if we tried, we might be taken up as refuse, and thrown away into oblivion.” He shifted shaking his half bare mane worriedly, the thin tail behind him swishing.

“I said nothing about going to Toyland yet.” The goblin interrupted, a hand moving to rake through his thick yarn like hair. He usually kept it tied up in some fashion, but today it was loose. He had been watching through cracks in the walls as the movers had worked during the day. “I have heard tell of a toy doctor.” He offered the words quietly, large round eyes watching the crowd to see how they reacted.

“Toy Doctors are nothing but children! And children are more likely to break us than fix us!” The Doll retorted.

“I think you could be wrong Mabel. This person is a grownup. She mends toys, and repairs them. I have heard from some that she helps find homes for homeless toys once they’ve been repaired.” His words were measured and he took a step back as a murmur started going through the toys.

“I could help each of you get to her. That is if it is what you wish.” The goblin shifted almost anxiously, his bare feet shifting through the carpet.

The toys discussed the information amongst themselves. Many of them were very worried about the idea. Change was not something some of them were certain about. Many of them were under the impression they could never be repaired. But finally Mabel came forward.

“If you really believe that there is such thing as a toy doctor, I will volunteer to go to her first. As I have been with you the longest, it is in good will that I volunteer.” Mabel sighed, a small cloud of dust moving from within her as she did so. “But you will promise to take care of all the others, and pass them information as we go.”

The goblin nodded. “I agree to the terms. But you all will need to be prepared for the journey. Leaving our home is not going to be an easy task.” He paused, tucking his hands into his pockets as he leaned down to look at the worn carpet intently. “Those that would rather be moved to Toyland, I will gladly aid you in that endeavor as well.”

Story Time?

So I've been rolling a thought around in my head for a bit, and I've decided that there's no reason not to follow through with it. I know that some of the people reading this know who I am and where I am. And that is alright, and good. Story time though is something that everyone should be able to enjoy.

http://www.storylineonline.net/

http://resources.woodlands-junior.kent.sch.uk/interactive/onlinestory.htm

so here's two links to things online to check out for now. they're neat. But keep an eye open... things should be getting interesting around here soon.