Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Hunt... Part One[?]

It was an old fashioned party in America. A young girl in a blue dress waved her arms in the air and laughed with glee as she danced across the dance floor doing the Twist. Teenage boys and young men danced with the girls to the music from a band standing on a flimsy stage. A disco ball spun from the ceiling, spraying everyone in sparkling lights. Oh yes, it was, indeed a party.
It was, at least, until three people, two guys and one girl, entered the room. All three were wearing exquisite clothes, obviously made by an excellent tailor. They wore suits that were dark from head to toe, but for an almost black, violet mask that was tied behind their heads under their fedoras and a cravat of the same color. A trench coat with long tails going to their ankles in the back and warm boots completed the look.
The girl wore close to the same, but a couple things were different. Her outfit was as dark as her black, purple-striped hair which was falling to her shoulders. Her shirt looked almost like a spider's web with criss-crossed strands slashed back and forth, and it fell down from her wrists in lacey sleeves. She had a skirt that went to just below her knees, and it was as beautifully and intricately designed as her sark.
She stood next to a man with blue, thunderbolt eyes, whose tar hair spiked from beneath his fedora. The other man had curly, blond hair and stood a bit behind the other two. The man with blue eyes, who seemed to be the leader, glanced at the girl and spoke in a smooth, yet commanding tone, highlighted with an Irish accent, "Well, what a lovely party. It's almost a pity we have to stop it, but then again, I, personally, don't really care very much for parties, especially ones I wasn't invited to."
"Yeah," the girl replied in a bit of a southern American accent, "And let's hope for their sakes that they don't like parties very much either, seeing as we're crashing it an' all."
The man grunted, turned his head to the side, and nodded to the gentleman behind them. "William, if you would?"
"Yes, sir." William bowed slightly, walked around the room to the makeshift stage the band was playing on, stepped up, and took a handgun from his coat which he turned on them. "If you could please shut up, I think things would be a lot less messy, don't you?" His English accent cut through the roar of the music and stopped it abruptly to angry, then alarmed, cries from the crowd. He turned the gun towards them, and the place grew suddenly quiet.
"Well," said the man with the blue eyes from the back of the room. "That went smoothly. Now," he took a step forward, "If I could please have everyone's attention-"
"Attention, please!" cut in the girl "We need everyone's attention right here! Please look this way! Yes, you too, mister! I see you looking over there! Face this way now! Good... Everyone, attention this way! Look at this man here! Bore your eyes into his eyes! Stare at him! Glare directly-" William rolled his eyes, and the man that was previously talking looked back at the girl, "Em, Skyril, I think we've gotten their attention...." She stopped mid-sentence, "Oh..., well if you say so..."
The man cleared his throat a bit, glanced back at the crowd, and continued speaking, "Now, I'd like to know who here goes by the name Mary?" No one said anything. After a moment, his look turned to a glare. "I said, 'Who here goes by the name Mary?'. I know there's a few here..." still no reply and an ominous growl slowly emanated from the man. At this point, Skyril started laughing, almost hysterically, and said, "Ah, sorry, Gepard, but I just couldn't keep up the act." He glared at her. "I'm such a terrible actress, you know!" she winked at him as everyone turned back to Gepard to see his reaction. "Oh," he said, "right."
And Skyril went on, "What we're really here for is the winners of these tickets!" She pulled something from a pocket. "They're tickets to a masquerade and the host of it just pulled the name Mary from a hat, meaning every Mary here gets a free ticket to Le Grand Monte Masquerade and party!" After a moment of silence, someone's hand went up tentatively. "Are you a Mary?" asked Skyril. "Um," the girl said, "No, I just wanted to know what the man with the gun is here for if you're supposedly simply awarding Marys with free tickets."
"Oh, William? Haha, don't worry about him. It was a prank I couldn't resist pulling on you folks. I'm such a prankster!" She still looked doubtful so Skyril went on, "It's not even a real gun, actually." She turned her gaze to him. "You should probably put that away now." William had a thing against orders from girls so his eyes darted to Gepard, who had fallen into the shadows and was circling the room. A small nod got him to put it back into it's holster under his coat.
"See?" Skyril went on. "Now, we checked out who was invited to this party and we saw 3 Marys on the list- Mary Butcher, Mary Rouse, and Mary Slaughter."

Gepard knew it was she the moment he saw her. Her pale face, the way she held herself, and the way she walked all gave it away. He would have known she was one of them even if he hadn't been searching for her for the last few weeks. She wasn't very good at blending in with a crowd, to say the least. It wasn't much of a challenge, but at least she was here.
Gepard needed this girl. She had very important information, and he was going to get it. He remembered when he first heard about her. He had almost died just uncovering her name, but he hadn't. He'd been saved and made a useful alliance because if it.
He glanced at Skyril. She was still putting on her little charade with elegant words and gestures. That girl often leaped before testing the water, but she knew how to pull herself out..., most of the time, anyway. When Gepard realized that she was giving him a nice distraction on this particular occasion, he'd slunk into the shadows and began circling the crowd as everyone looked to her.
Now he'd found whom he was looking for, and he decided now was the time to throw his die and make his move. He knew Skyril didn't particularly like talking in front of crowds or being the center of attention so it was doubtful she'd continue her speech for very much longer.
He would capture the one Mary Skyril had intentionally not mentioned- the vampire, Miss Mary Mayfield.


"So, you three lucky lasses, if you could come up here I'll award you with your prize tickets!" Skyril said with a smile and a theatrical flourish. She saw Gepard in the back of the room leading a woman through a door. Well, "leading" might be too soft of a word, Skyril thought. It was more like, "forcing," what with one hand clutching her neck in a tight grip and the other holding a wooden stake he must have taken from the inside of his trench coat where it was concealed. William was slinking off the stage to follow him.
But all eyes were on Skyril and the young girl who had just come up to say, "My name's Mary Butcher and I'd like my ticket now, please."
"Certainly!" chirped Skyril. "I give to you, our first Mary, a ticket to Le Grand Monte Masqerade!"
Skyril, her brilliant smile still in place, handed her one of the three and went on, "The place, date, and time are right on there! Don't forget your mask!"
With a slightly disbelieving expression on her face, Mary Butcher looked down at the ticket. She turned back to the crowd, glanced up, shrugged, and said, "Looks real to me!" A small cheer went up and the other two Marys appeared in quick succession.
Skyril rewarded them with their tickets. As they returned to the crowd, Skyril said "Well, I must now apologize for interrupting your party! Please, continue and have fun! Adieu! I hope you Marys will have a lovely time at the masquerade!" The band started up again and Skyril slipped out the front door before anyone could ask any questions about the fictitious Monte Masquerade.
The glare from the falling sun caught her off guard for a moment, but she shielded her eyes to wait for them to adjust. Autumn was setting in with alarming ferocity, and the chill air bit at Skyril. She didn't mind it, though. In fact, she quite loved it. She spread her arms wide, sucked in that lovely smell that springs from the leaves in this season, and did a little joyful spin.
Sadly, she knew she had to get back to work.
So, onward she went to the abandoned warehouse across the street where William was leaning against the wall, waiting outside for her, as instructed by Gepard. "You took long enough," said William with a sigh. Skyril laughed, replying sarcastically, "Oh, I'm so sorry for making you wait out here in the cold! Haha! I know you love autumn as much as I do!" she poked him. "Stop pretending to be perturbed."
Nothing but an annoyed grunt came from the English man so Skyril stuck her tongue out at him and walked by into the warehouse. He went to follow, but she told him to wait outside. He was angered further to be ordered around by a girl, but did as she commanded nonetheless. Skyril knew Gepard well enough to know he wouldn't want any unnecessary people around during the questioning, especially William, since he was only working for them for money and in hopes of finding the vampire that had killed someone close to him in the past.
When she entered the building, musk filled her nostrils instead of the pleasant scent outside. The place was dim, but she could find her way well enough before her eyes adjusted further. She walked up the cement steps in the corner. The sight that greeted her when she got up there was Gepard standing in front of Mary Mayfield who was tightly bound to a chair.


"I warn you, this will be the last time I ask nicely. Things will get most unpleasant if you continue this charade of ignorance." said Gepard, his voice low and dangerous. Mary sat in her seat, arms yanked behind her and bound to the chair. More ropes and even a chain wrapped around her waste and legs, rendering her movement to the barest shift. Tears leaked from her eyes and down her cheeks in streams, and the mascara she'd been wearing was completely smeared. Gepard went on, "Where. Is. Malcolm. Reaper?"
"I told you! I told you!" she shrieked, her voice high pitched.  "I don't knooooow! I don't know who you're talking abooooouuut!" Gepard sighed and walked to the side of the room where his wooden stakes, his broadsword, and a small, sharp dagger lay carefully on the floor. Skyril was leaning against the wall and watching with an expressionless face. She leaned over to Gepard and whispered, "Are you sure this is the right girl?"
"Yes!" he snapped, "I'm certain, alright?"
"Okay, okay..." she backed off for a second, then leaned back over. "But is this absolutely necessary? I mean... the torture and all?"
Gepard sighed. "She's obviously not going to talk without a bit of help, so I'm going to provide some for her." Skyril couldn't detect any hesitation in his voice. "Look," he went on. "She's a vampire and her name is Mary Mayfield. I'm certain about that. Somehow, I doubt there are two vampires that identical, which means she's the one we're looking for, which means she knows where Malcolm Reaper is or at least the last place he was, which means we can find him, which means we can interrogate him, which means he can lead us to Dusk, which is exactly what I want. That's what you want, right, to get rid of Dusk?"
Skyril shuffled her feet. "Well..., yeah..."
"Alright then. Now please stop questioning me and let me do what I do... The door's right there if you want to leave."
"Oh," said a voice that wasn't Skyril's or Gepard's, "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere until I drink my fill from the both of you." Gepard spun around. The chair Mary had been occupying was empty; the ropes that had bound her, broken. Gepard cursed and grabbed two wooden stakes, one in each hand. Skyril took a large dagger from it's sheath by her hip where it had been hidden under her coat and stood at the ready. She whispered to Gepard, "Um, sorry."
"Not your fault" He mumbled and took a step forward, eyes searching the shadows.
The girl couldn't be seen. She must have leaped behind a broken machine or swung up onto the pipes running underneath the ceiling. A flash of white overhead and a fun-filled laugh were the only signs she was even there. Gepard and Skyril looked back and forth, trying to spot her.
Mary dropped from the ceiling in front of them. Her tears were gone and were replace by a malicious grin. "Y'all didn't even notice the sun going down, did you? How pathetic."
Gepard snarled and pushed at the air, but she was already gone, leaping backwards and landing perfectly on a pipe above. It was obviously inhuman. Her hands went to her skull, and she shirked her flesh, revealing the slimy white beast beneath. Its eyes were black, its breath reeked of old blood, and its fangs were yellow.
It fell down to the ground from the pipe and glared at Gepard as it growled and walked around him. Gepard watched and stood still, not daring to move, for he knew this was not yet the time to attack. A drop of sweat formed on his brow and slid down to his blue eye. He blink. A roar came from the vampire, and it leaped.
Skyril closed her eyes and took its sight; Gepard leaped to the side and rolled to a knee. The vampire shook his head and roared again, but sightlessness only paused it for a moment. It could smell its pray, and it loped for Skyril. A yelp came from her, and she stumbled to the side, the vampire's claw raking against her arm, bruising it painfully, but not slicing the skin thanks to Ghastly's clothing. However, it wasn't done with her yet. It leaped on top of her and barred it's fangs. Gepard sprung towards it, electric bolts wrapping around the stakes in his hands, and brought them down on the back of the beast.
Can a monster shriek? Skyril found out that day that they can, indeed, and it's terrible. The vampire, once, so many years ago a simple country girl named Mary Mayfield, screamed as the stakes sunk in and the electric bolts coursed through its body. For a moment or two it bucked and thrashed, trying to get Gepard off. He hung on viciously for several seconds but was finally tossed off by the wild thing. It turned and roared in his face, saliva splattering everywhere, and sprang away again onto the the pipes above, blood seeping and dripping from its wounds.
Those wounds. though, were mortal, and it fell off again a  moment later after slipping on its own blood. It landed hard and writhed in pain. Gepard stood and watched it for a second. Skyril was standing to the side, gasping slightly. Her face was stricken with sad confusion, not knowing what to do with the agonized monster. Gepard walked back slowly and picked up his sword. He returned to the vampire, and he finished it off, relieving it of the pain it would have had to endure in the last minutes of life.
He and Skyril stood still for a moment, she in slightly stunned silence and he regretting having to kill the beast without getting the information  beforehand. He wiped off the sword and walked past Skyril to the stairs. On the first step he muttered. "Come on," and left without checking if she was following. Skyril sheathed her dagger, expression changing from one close to sadness to one of resigned and regretless.She went down the stairs.
When they exited, William  looked up from where he leaned against the wall and asked "Did you get what we needed?"
Skyril glanced at Gepard who was standing in front of her. "No," he said. "We're back where we started. In fact, we're even worse than when we started because we have no leads and the trail is cold!" William frowned, deciding not to reply. After a moment, Gepard walked away, speaking over his shoulder, "Skyril and I are going to base. You clean up the mess and meet us there."

I drew a drawing of Gepard and Skyril :P
I tried to draw the vampire, but I really just couldn't.
Oh, and know the clothing isn't right, but I can't draw cravats or skirts O.o
I suppose the one with Gepard is right before Mary the vampire leaped at him.
And the one of Skyril, I suppose, is when she's taking the vampire's sight. 
Pretty much the only thing I'm comfortable with these is the hair xP

Hope you enjoyed the story! Um... I don't know when I'll get back to it [if ever]. I've got so many things I need to write right now xD
And plus, a lot of this poofed in my head when I started writing, and I don't have anything past this. So I wouldn't really know how to continue it...

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

July Birthday Part 5/8ths

Happy birthday guys! So only Hellboy and Niall among the five of you told me to post this ahead of time, but I couldn't get a hold of the rest of you, no matter my extreme efforts, [eyes them crazilly] then a fellow with a mustache came up to me and told me he was not Niall, his birthday was in July, and he wanted me to post it. So what could I possibly do but post, I ask? Besides, the Queen ordered it. This was necessary. ~nods~
So enjoy! :D

Lithia Rancor delicately placed a miniature Reese's cup on the exact center of her tongue, sealing it in behind her lips. She glanced back through the grate separating her from most of her quintessence. Bags and bags of bags filled with miniature Reese's cups occupied every available space. The edge of her darkened mouth curled up in a smile of near drunken debauchery. She popped another one into her mouth before turning her focus back to driving as the red light ahead blinked to green.
It was about time her guests had gotten out, so she figured she'd best get back home to greet them. She very much hoped they had enjoyed the little surprises she'd left with them, seeing as she did put much time and thought into each one. Although, one was yet to be sprung, Lithia knew it wouldn't likely be very long now. By the time she got home, in fact, the group of them would surely have taken care of that little fellow. 
She momentarily pondered if any of her guests would be seriously injured when she arrived, but discarded the thought after a moment. The surprises she had set up were to be difficult, but not life threatening. Besides, it would be quite unacceptable if they were hurt badly, for then she'd not have the pleasure of revealing her motives and plans of their imminent demise through her genius plot to a coherent bunch, as all good villains must do before killing their victims off.
Villain, you ask? Yes, well, Lithia didn't actually consider herself a villain, but the deeds she was deviously doing were rather villainous, so perhaps she was one after all, and she was never necessarily one of the good guys on the nice side, anyway. She almost shrugged, but decided that would be a waste of energy that she could better use plopping a Reese's into her mouth.
No, she was not on the Sancutary's side. After all, most of her victi- I mean guests were on the side of the light, and that would do her no good. The good side wasn't all that good anyway so why not join the dark side? The dark side has Reese's cups!
The more she thought about her plans the more her red eyes sparkled. Lithia just couldn't wait to set her final plans into motion! Indeed, this was going to be the equivalent of what most people called "fun."

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Happy [First Half] Belated Birthday Nyx, Hellboy, Sarthacus, Nicolette and Niall!

 Author's note
Hey, Nyx, Hellboy, Sarthacus, Nicolette, and Niall! 
Happy Belated Birthday! :D
I've been writing this for ages, and yet it's still not done :P
Ah, well, I suppose I'm a slow writer! Anyway, I thought I'd split it into two halves [although the second half will most likely be shorter, just so you know...] so that it's at least posted in the month of July xD 
Hopefully, the next part will be written more quickly :P And I hope you all enjoy it!
Once again, I wish Nyx! Happy Belated birthday, you birthday girl! It's the most belated for you, actually, since your birthday was on the 1, but at least it's here, right? :D
Happy Belated Birthday, Hellboy!
Happy Belated Birthday, Nicolette!
Happy Belated Birthday, Sarthacus!
All of your birthdays birthdays were on the 9th! :D
Happy Belated Birthday, Niall!
Birthday of the 20! 
I tried to get this short story fan-fic written by then, but alas, I failed...
Anyway, you're all Birthday Girls and Birthday Boys today and when I post the next half as well, so...
Happy Birthday!!!!!

The day began as any other for Israel, awaking reasonably late, having stayed up into the wee hours last night playing video games in his mansion, Elysium Asylum. Next, it was time to eat "breakfast" at 2 PM, nodding to the cook solemnly in an appearance of guilt as he was berated for not eating breakfast in the morning like normal people rather than the afternoon, but then Israel pointed out that he really wasn't a normal person, earning him a glare and lump on the head from his nemesis... The Ladle....
At 4 o'clock, was planned a little get together with some friends of Israel's. And by "get together" he really means insane competition between four friends and possibly some random strangers at laser tag. He grinned. This was going to be fun!


With black, gold tipped hair dancing about her shoulders, Nyx Dawn pulled up to her destination on her fiery red motorcycle. She parked and examined the building. It looked like any other, aside from the big, burgundy  "Laser Tag" written on the front. 
Her watch read 3:49 P.M. So eleven minutes til Sarthacus, Israel, and Nicolette should get there. They hadn't seen each other for months, being busy out of country and all. So this would be a nice reunion. 
Nyx climbed off her bike, eyes glowing a light blue. She entered the building and proceeded upstairs to the observatory to await their arrival. 
A game began, a few people entered the dim, smoky and flashing arena below her. All had on sort of vests, some blue, some red, that flashed when they got shot by laser guns held by their opponents. A simple enough game, traversing the slopes and dips within the arena, trying not to shoot a mirror rather than an actual foe, and earning points yourself by "killing" the opposing team. All this made better by the smoke filling the room, the flashing lights, and the loud music. Looked fun! And what better way is there to catch up with friends than to hunt them down and shoot them with lasers? Nyx grinned as her eyes changed to a more shocking green. This was her kind of reunion.

Electric green eyes
A flash of gold
The ninja, red and black
A foe she spies
She slinks in close, ever bold,
Yet planning a simple attack

She stalks not a moment more
 But leaps from behind
 Her laser gun fires a blast of red light
Nic spun and swore
As her teeth did grind
"Not very polite!"

Nyx laughed with glee
Then danced away
Another foe was in her sight
She'd win, she did decree!
But alas, she's shot! Oh, he would pay
Mwahaha just wait, you, til the next epic fight!


Sarthacus Bolt, with his back to the wall, moved silently to the corner, always being sure no one was sneaking up from behind. Smoke wafted about his feet, lights flashed, red and blue, and thrilling music filled his ears. He rather enjoyed this game!
He edged closer to the side, carefully peering beyond. Ah-ha! An opponent, like he thought! She was facing away, so rather than perform a sneak attack, he casually stepped from behind the wall, lifted his gun, and gleefully shot her. He was grinning at his little victory when she turned around.
It was no one he knew. Her hair was dyed a dark green. It was straight, but cut jaggedly, creating an odd appearance. She was incredibly thin and kind of hunched over with her hands thrust in her pockets. But what caught Sarthacus's attention was her eyes. They were a deep and dark blood red with occasional ripples like someone had just thrown a pebble into a lake. Sarthacus stared into those eyes, his smile slowly disappearing; he couldn't seem to look away. It hardly registered that the girl had raised her hand to her black lips, a slender wooden tube held delicately between two fingers. She exhaled, and he felt a small prick in his neck.
Then he was feeling a falling sensation, but couldn't stop himself. It seemed like it went on forever, plummeting in slow motion, falling and falling.
Blackness suddenly filled his vision, and he knew nothing else.


Nicolette moaned as she slowly came back to consciousness. She had a headache. She hated headaches. Her blue streaked, brown hair was sticking to her face and neck. She tried to move her arms from their uncomfortable position beneath her, but realized they were handcuffed. Her eyes flew open to see, well, nothing. It was too dark. Was her magic sealed? It was. She grunted, annoyed.
Where was she? What had happened? She thought back. She'd been playing Laser Tag and was closing in on Nyx to get her revenge, but then what? She slightly recalled feeling a prick on her neck, and now she was here. Must have been a poisoned dart. She sat up, wriggling her arms beneath her chained legs and out in front. There, that's much better.
Now, to think about her current predicament. Her wrists are cuffed, powers sealed, and legs chained together so she could only take baby steps, oh yeah, and she couldn't see her hands right in front of her face. What if they had brought her here to torture her? Nicolette's heart quickened. She didn't think she could stand to be tortured. Maybe they would do it with night vision goggles so they could see her, but she couldn't see them. Then she wouldn't know what they were doing to her; she would know only the pain as they seared her flesh or cut into the most sensitive parts of her. They would see everything and grin, laughing horribly at her agonized screams...
Nicolette shook her head violently. She must not think in that irrational way. If she continued to shiver in a corner about something that may not have even been considered, there was no way she'd ever escape.
Her hands reached out into the darkness to try to at least find a wall, just as a voice said in a very low tone, "Ah, I see you're awake. Didn't think you were dead, but couldn't be sure."
Nicolette froze. It was a man's voice, or rather, it sounded more of a boy's. Nicolette thought for a moment, momentarily wondering if she'd done wrong by alerting her captors of being conscious, but realized she couldn't have known they were watching her. So she asked the most obvious question, "Who are you?"
"Oh, me?"
She sensed that he shrugged slightly. "No one you know."
"Well, duh," she rolled her eyes. "I would have recognized your voice were you someone I knew... unless you're Bob Contrast, in which case you'd change your voice just to annoy me..., but then you said you're no one I know, so again I ask: who are you?"
The voice chuckled, very casually. Nicolette tried to judge how close he was, but there was an echo making it difficult to guess.
"Well if you want to know my name, you should have asked in the first place. That would have made things much clearer, don't you think?"
Nicolette didn't reply and sensed another bit of a shrug from the boy.
"...My name is Montblanc.... Niall Montblanc."


Niall finally closed the magic book he was reading, having finished it, and glanced up at the clock on the far wall. Five P.M. already? Well, time certainly does fly when you're reading a good book! He stood up, slowly running his hand through his tar colored hair and stretching. It was time to leave. After all, he really didn't particularly want the owner of this book to find him sprawled out on his sofa reading it.
A car pulled into the driveway outside. 
Uh-oh. Yes, it was definitely time to leave. He slipped into the kitchen at the back of the house and went through the door there, closing it silently as he left. He crept around the house and carefully gazed beyond. The car beeped as it locked, and the house's front door closed. Niall made a run for it.
Ten minutes later, being absolutely certain the sorcerer hadn't discovered the break in and was hunting him down, he paused to take a moment's rest. That's when something very interesting happened. He was standing at the back of a row of buildings as he witnessed it. Down the ways a bit was the back of Laser Tag. He remembered seeing it when he came by here the first time. A van was parked there now, but what was really interesting, was that there was an incredibly thin girl, looking no more than 18 or 19, with green hair who was carrying a grown man over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  
She didn't bother to check if she was being watched, rather, she simply pulled wide open the back of the van, tossing the man in. Before she closed it however, Niall saw four people laying awkwardly inside. One of them, a different man, moaned slightly, and the green haired woman paused a second, then moved her fingertip over the man's lips. On it formed a drop of some type of liquid. The moans stopped immediately. She slammed the door shut, and trudged, hunched and hands thrust in pockets, to the drivers seat. 
Niall realized he had to know more; it wasn't everyday you met someone that could form a drop of poison from their very own skin. 
The van's engine roared, Niall watching carefully. Which way would it turn? It turned right just as adrenaline filled Niall's veins. He leaped over a fence, swerving suddenly around two more buildings before scaling another fence and spotting the the van turning down a narrow lane. Over another fence, and he was dashing through a neighborhood, trying to avoid completely ruining the many flowerbeds around here. Man, what was it with these people and flower beds? Didn't they know they were awfully hard to maneuver when chasing a van carrying four possibly dead victims and an adept woman with green hair who could very well be a serial killer?
Apparently not.
The van turned onto yet another street, but before long, it finally pulled into the cracked driveway at a very ramshackle house at the end of the street. Niall slipped behind the row of houses next to the one the van was stopped. Hunched girl, as Niall decided to call her, got out once more, this time glancing around a bit before opening the doors and carrying in her first victim, a girl with blue streaks in her brown hair.
Hunched Girl kicked open the back door of the house, stepped inside, and soon returned for the next, and the next, and the next. After the last one, she didn't come out for about 20 minutes, but reappeared to get into her van once again and drive off.  
Niall waited another five minutes to be sure she was really gone. Satisfied, he slunk to the same door she had, and twisted the knob. Yes, it was unlocked, good. The door, with it's rusty hinges complaining, swung open with a creak. There wasn't any light in there at all. He felt along the wall and found a switch to flick. A naked, dust and cobweb covered light bulb fluttered to life. He was in the middle of a hall- it's walls covered in a rustic type of wallpaper that was pealing away at the corners- so could go either right or left.
He chose to go left. There was only one door down this way, and it was at the very end. He reached it, opened it, and saw a descending row of cement steps. So that's not creepy at all. Oh wait, yes it is. Niall shivered a bit, but figured he was into it this much, there was naught to do but go on. So he went on, and it got darker and darker as he did so. The only light was coming from that one bulb upstairs. Ah, finally, the end, but the moment his foot hit the floor below the final step, he felt his powers sealed. Hmm, this may be the place he was looking for.
His hand reached out into the black in search of another light switch. Fingers fumbling across the wall, he found it and flipped it. Nothing happened. Well, that creates a bit of a predicament. Light blinked into life above him all of a sudden. Oh, good.
He examined the room he was in. It seemed there were four separate rooms here, one in each corner. The only open space in between was what might have well been hallways, they were so narrow. The walls of each were black, as were the doors, and they had numbers on them. 
He stepped towards the door on his left, number one, and opened it, entering. The walls in here were all black as well. In the middle of the room, filling almost all of it, was a large octagon of glass. The glass was the kind, though, that was transparent for him, but looked like a mirror to the one inside, and in this dim light, he could only imagine how dark it was for someone in there. 
Niall stepped close to the glass and peered in. The ground fell down somewhat inside the glass and down there, laying uncomfortably on her side, lay one of the victim's of Hunched Girl. This one was the girl with the blue-streaked brown hair. Her hands were cuffed behind her back and her ankles were chain together.
She shifted a bit. Her hazel eyes flew open and she sat up, looking around. She gave grunt of annoyance, possibly realizing opening her eyes didn't help her in the slightest, and moved her arms underneath her til they were in front. After a moment, the girl's hands reached out in the darkness.
Niall decided to make himself known.


Israel Elysium's ears heard something. Something that was odd. Something that didn't quite fit. Something that needed an Israel that was awake. His gold flecked and glowing green eyes showed themselves. He didn't move anything more than those eyes for a moment, not only because he could feel his hands chained together and his powers sealed, but also because he wanted to get any information he could before whomever had kidnapped him discovered he was awake.
The room he was in was well lit. From what he could see at that point of view, it seemed  he was in an octagonal room with walls made of mirrors. He was laying on cement and, over there in the corner of his eye, was that a rusted grate? His head moved just a fraction to get a better look. It seemed there had been a largish grate on the wall, like a smaller cage for the one he was in, but it had been opened and laying next to it was a dagger, the steel of it reflecting the light into his eyes. Israel pondered what this could possibly mean. 
But it could mean only one thing: that whatever had been kept in there was out now and most likely locked inside with him.
Of course, at the very moment he realized that, a menacing snarl emanated from behind his prone form. His heart rate quickened considerably at the sound of it, and adrenaline immediately pulsed through his veins. But he restrained himself from making any sudden movements for fear of startling the creature into an attack, even though he very much wanted to leap from the ground and make a mad dash for that dagger. 
Instead, Israel very, very, slowly moved his chained hands beneath his chest, pushing himself from the ground as his knees moved forward and under as well until he was finally on hands and knees. Another threatening snarl echoed towards him. Israel could tell it was closer this time, and it sounded quite a bit like it wasn't very happy at all with Israel. Either that, or it was just deciding he would make a rather ravishing meal. Whichever it was, he wasn't the happiest he could be right about then.
Israel tilted his head half an inch to try to see, at the very least, what this creature, whether is be monster or animal, was. Ah, there it is, he could see it. 
It was an animal about the size of a dog. It was brown and furry, resembling a small bear. The creature was a wolverine, and most definitely not at all tickled pink about being trapped in here. Drool dripped past it's barred fangs. Oh joy, it was rabid and, with Israel's luck lately, probably quite hungry.
Israel looked back at his only weapon and lifted one hand from the ground, very tentatively outstretching it for the dagger. The wolverine snarled once again, but it didn't stop there this time. It loped towards him at an alarming speed, leaping when it got close enough and landing on Israel's back but falling onto his leg. It's jagged teeth grinned up at him with a sickening glimmer before savagely tearing into the back of his right calf. Israel yelled out in pain and forced his shaking hand to grab the dagger laying before him. He swung around as best he could stabbing the mad creature. The knife slid about halfway into the body of it. Alas, it pierced nothing but flesh, but it was enough to get it off of him. Israel leaped to his feet, leaning heavily on his left leg as blood dripped alarmingly quickly through his shredded black jeans on his right. He really needed to visit Ghastly soon.
The wolverine glared at him for a moment as a thick drop of blood splashed onto the cement from the gash on it's side. Israel grinned. "Didn't know I'd fight back, did'ya?"
It didn't bother to reply but came back at him, jumping with claws outstretched. It was so quick. Israel dodged to the side, the wolverine catching him on his brown jacket and clinging, the jacket tearing a bit. Israel crashed to the ground, and the bloodied dagger flew from his grip, landing across the room and clattering on the cement. The wolverine fell too, but it was back at him in a second, leaping into the air, aiming for his face.
At the last possible second, Israel raised his fists, chain between them taut. The wolverine couldn't change its course so crashed into it, and Israel immediately wrapped the chain tightly around its neck. The mad creature clawed and hissed as best he could through it's blocked airway, but Israel held on viciously. "You do not rip my jacket and get away with it. That was a bad move, Wolverine, and very silly of you, really. Surely you must have known you would never get away with it?"
The animal jerked only with spasms now.
"No? Well, now you won't make that mistake again, will you?"
The wolverine would never move again.
Israel stood slowly- his leg searing with pain now that he wasn't in so much of an adrenaline rush- and thought he might have become a bit delirious. He stumbled around the dead body and over to the dagger, picking it up and moving on to the cement steps he'd seen. At the top, he looked up and down at the mirror, wondering how to get out. He thought perhaps he could slide it, so lifted his hand, the wolverine's blood smeared on it, and placed it on the door. Before he could attempt to slide it, however, a bit of the blood got onto the glass, and the door swung open before him. "Er... ok, that's alright with me, hahahaha!" Wait, why was he laughing? He shrugged and went through the door.


"...My name is Montblanc.... Niall Montblanc, but what the real question is, is who are you?"
"No, no, I think I had the question right the first time." She nodded slightly. "And if you don't already know who I am, why would I inform the person that may have very well kidnapped me in the first place?"
"I didn't kidnap you. I followed the person that did."
"So... you just happened to see him kidnapping me and rather than, say, call the police or copy his license plate number, you decided to follow this person who could, by the way, be a serial killer or someone who just enjoys... torture." Nicolette shivered at that statement, but went on nonetheless. "Yeah..., that makes perfect sense!"
"Well, I thought it would be a bad idea to call the police seeing as the person who kidnapped you is an adept. I memorized the license plate number at first glance, and thought it would be a good idea to follow this person  -who's a girl, fyi, and not a "him"- so that I would know exactly where she was keeping you and her other kidnapp-ies. Then after she left, well, I thought I might just come in here and check it out to see if I could find you and perhaps rescue you, and here you are, and here am I. So, to sum it all up, I think I did a pretty good job."
"Right, well, let me ask you this, does anyone know you're here?"
Niall was slightly taken aback, "Wha-? Well.... uh... no..."
Nicolette stood and shook her head sadly in the dark chamber, saying in a rather sarcastic tone, "That's rather disappointing, Mr. Montblanc, I was hoping you'd know that one, very important rule. I mean, seeing as you were so smart in everything else and all." she rolled her eyes and began taking baby steps, her feet chained and arms outstretched.
 "Well, since you're here," she went on, "You say this girl that captured me is an adept. How do you know that?"
"I saw her poison one of you when he was waking up."
"Ok? That could just mean she had poison with her."
"No, she didn't, I saw it very clearly. The poison came directly from her skin."
Nicolette's hand found one of the walls and began gingerly sliding it around with a slightly confused expression. "That's interesting, but you said- Hey, is this a mirror?"
"What? I didn't say anything about a mirror..."
"No, I mean what I'm touching. Apparently you can see me, so what am I touching?"
"Oh, all the walls in the room you're in are made of glass that looks like a mirror to you but is transparent for me like in all those cop shows. Here, I'll try to find the door."
"Alright. Now, you said something about others of us that this adept girl-"
"I call her Hunched Girl."
"- had kidnapped. Who were they, or at least, what did they look like?"
Niall slowly circled the glass walls, examining them very closely, "Well, there was one girl other than you and she had black, but gold tipped hair."
"That's Nyx Dawn..."
"And there were two guys-"
"One with dark brown hair and the other dark and kinda long hair?"
"Yup, that's them! You know them? ...Ah-ha!"
"I do know them, Israel Elysium and Sarthacus Bolt. All four of us were together when we were kidnapped. And why did you just yell 'Ah-ha'?"
A silhouette appeared across the room in a doorway. "I found the door!"


 Nyx Dawn jerked awake. The room was filled with smoke and immediately made her cough and splutter, getting into her lungs and hurting her throat, as her eyes teared up. The weird thing was, she couldn't see anything. No light or fire or llamas anywhere! It was as black as pitch and as hot as the sun beating down on you and burning your flesh in the middle of a desert. She covered her face the best she could with her arm, but it didn't help much. Where on earth was she? Did she have amnesia? She hated having amnesia! Nyx growled, trying to remember how she got here, her eyes shifted from surprised yellow to angry black.
She got on her hands and knees, crawling through the smoke and trying to at least find a wall. Hand. Knee. Hand. Knee. Hand. Knee. Head bump. She coughed again as her hand reached out to feel along it. It felt like glass. She stood up slowly, stretching her arms as far up and to the sides as she could. Everything felt like glass.
Another coughing spasm racked her stomach, and she was back on her knees. She crawled along next to the wall, trying to find something besides the glass. Ah-ha! What was this? It was cement like the ground except a little higher up. Was it a stair? She felt up it some more and found another one. Good, something normal! Nyx crawled up them awkwardly, getting to the top and feeling what was there. It felt the exact same except for the feeling of thin lines running into the shape of a large rectangle. So a glass door? But there wasn't a doorknob. She stood up once more, wishing she had her necromantic dagger, but knowing as soon as she woke up that it had been taken from her. She was not happy about that.
She lifted her leg and kicked at the wall before her. It vibrated a little bit, but did nothing more. She coughed and covered her nose and mouth with her shirt, trying to get fresher air. She kicked again and again, coughing and gagging while doing it.
Did it shake a little more that time? She gathered her strength, focusing it into her leg as much as possible, and slammed it into the door with all the might she could muster. The sound of shattering glass filled her ears. She stumbled back a step, covering her head from the falling glass, and looked up. Nothing. She could still see nothing but darkness. A fluttering filled her heart with fear, but she pushed it down and stepped up the stairs once more, her arms stretched out before her.


Sarthacus Bolt awoke to the melody of crickets. His blue eyes were filled with the sight of trees, vines, bushes, and a blue sky. He gazed at the sky. It really was a deep blue. And those clouds, they looked rather, well, flat. Wait, that's not the sky. It's a blue ceiling, and his powers were sealed. He sat up with a look of confusion, and realized he was sitting on a round platform of cement. All around the platform was grass and greenery... a forest.
Why was he in jungle-room? The last thing he remembered was shooting that green haired girl with the laser gun. Now he was here. 
A slip of paper fell from his hand as he was reaching up to comb his long, dark locks from his eyes. He noticed a flutter and glanced down. A piece of parchment? And beside it also lay a fixed knife, it's deadly blade recently sharpened. Sarthacus picked up the tattered paper, unfolded it, and peered it in interest.

Oh, great, it was a riddle. He hated riddles. Sarthacus went over it once more in his head.

To escape this cage,
There's something you'll need:

Ok, so that proved he had been kidnapped and was being held in this weird cage. Apparently, he could also escape, but had to find something.

A sliver of silver beneath a heart pumping rage
In what you may dislike, you must succeed.

Hmmm... what could a sliver of silver be? Maybe a key? Sarthacus realized he'd just rhymed unconsciously and cursed, correcting his thoughts. What could be the sliver of silver the riddle had spoken of? Much better. Ok, possibly it's a key, but what of the "Beneath a heart pumping rage"? That didn't sound very good. Nor did the next line. He didn't particularly like doing things he didn't like...

Beside a cypress is your destination,
In murky depths lays the key.

A cypress tree... Didn't Skyril once talk about cypress trees? But what did she say about them? Hm, something to do with where she was born. Urm, where was she born again? Sarthacus decided then and there that he would listen more closely to Skyril's stories.
Now, he knew it was the United States, but where there? Texas? No, Indiana? No, wait, it was Louisiana! Ha! He remembered! Nevermind about listening to Skyril's stories! So, what did cypress trees have to do with Louisiana?
Then it hit him. Swamps, cypress trees grow in swamps. Great, he was going to have to dive into a swamp to find a key? That's what the riddle sounded like...

Hold tight to your breath when with the swamp's mutation!
The bowels of the beast you must free!

Yup, he was going to have to dive into a swamp. He sighed. That's just lovely. Well, what's the swamp's mutation supposed to be? A monster? He was diving into a swamp to fight a monster? Then "The bowels of the beast you must free!" He'd have to kill it and cut out its guts? Not a very nice thought there. Ah well, best get on with it. He stood up, dusted himself off, slid the knife into his boot, and set off randomly whilst humming Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer."
After a couple of minutes of swatting mosquitoes and walking on, he came to what he thought was a rock wall covered in vines, but when he pulled the vines back, he saw a wall made of mirror reflecting his image. He rapped on it with his knuckles, but it barely did anything. Must be bullet proof or something. Hmm, well, if this is a wall, and he started walking from that direction where there must have been another wall, then that way might possibly be headed for the center of the jungle-room! He trudged on that way.
The ground beneath his black boots seemed to be getting more muddy the further he went. Up ahead, he noticed through the trees that the ground had an odd color to it. It was more of a light green than the lush green and dirt brown colors around him now. He walked a bit more and realized that ahead of him was the swamp, the top covered in green slime and brown leaves fallen from the tall cypress trees growing in its midst. Gnats and mosquitoes flew above it in a swirling mix. A ripple spread from the swishing tail of a crocodile as it disappeared below the muck. Sarthacus gulped. It had probably gone to alert the others that dinner had arrived.
How was he supposed to find a key- which was apparently in the stomach of some mutated creature- in a swamp with the crocs fighting over who gets what piece of him? He sighed once again, trying to think of another way of getting what he needed without actually diving in. He decided to test something out to see what would happen. Sarthacus grabbed a good, solid stick from the ground and threw it into the swamp at far as he could. It splashed about the middle. Alright, good; now he would watch. Nothing happened. Hmm alright, I guess that didn't-
A great splash of slime and water exploded as at least four crocs burst from it, a stick in one of their mouths. Sarthacus stumbled back a bit. Ok, he was definitely not diving in there without even magic and only a fixed blade for a weapon.
He continued to watch the crocodiles fight a couple of minutes more before he noticed something coming up behind them. It appeared to be another crocodile, but only it's snout was poking out of the water for Sarthacus to see. For a moment, its yellow eyes, like a pair of shiny marbles, seemed to glare up at him from where it lay in the swamp. They disappeared a second later, though, and again swam through the muck towards what was likely to be its prey.
When it got right behind the brawling creatures, dirty water splashed up in torrents, and the biggest crocodile Sarthacus had ever seen in his life emerged from the slime, its great maw gaping with fangs like daggers already dripping the blood of its helpless victims. The quarreling crocs didn't stand a chance against this monster. In but a moment, three of the four were dragged below to the depths, the fourth wounded and splashing away as best it could. It practically yelped in surprise as it too was dragged below the filmy surface a moment later.
Sarthacus just stared, unable to remove his eyes from the spot he last saw that monstrous beast. Was that the mutation? He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, but just made him sort of sick and dizzy. He wondered why it always seemed to work for the people in books.
He stood up, deciding he needed to get away to think of what to do with this prodigious predicament. He turned around and took half a step before a guttural growl emanated from behind. He twisted around to see what it came from. The monster croc's front legs and head were on land and its back legs and tail were in the water. Sarthacus very slowly turned all the way around. It gazed at him for a moment, its yellow teeth glinting in the light.
It moved a bit farther up on land and growled maliciously when Sarthacus attempted to back up a few steps. The monster croc's hind legs were now only in a bit of very shallow water, and before Sarthacus's own deep blue eyes, the croc stood up, towering over Sarthacus- his mouth hanging open as if on broken hinges- at least two feet above his head. Yup, this was the mutation.
It growled in a deep, throaty tone, as it's gaping maw opened, further revealing jagged spikes for teeth, and roared in a language that was nothing like Sarthacus had ever before heard. However, if he had to guess, he thought it may have been Egyptian. The monster paused, and spoke again, this time thumping its chest mid-sentence. Still, Sarthacus didn't know what he could possibly say, so said nothing. It cocked it's head and growled out something yet again. At this point, Sarthacus had completely formulated his plan. It was simple. It was desperate. It probably wouldn't work. He'd probably die. But at least it was a plan rather than standing there listening to a mutated Egyptian speaking crocodile grow angrier and angrier at his prolonged silence.
Sarthacus went down to one knee, his head bowed down in a worshiping type of stance. The beast growled in what Sarthacus thought might be an approving tone. Later, the crocodile would see he should have eaten that human when he had the chance because after a split second more, Sarthacus had moved with incredible speed, although it seemed to happen in slow motion for him.
He withdrew the knife from his boot, and, from his kneeling position, leaped at his foe, dagger held at the ready to stab as he fell upon it, and stab he did. With the strength he got from his leaping assault, the dagger sunk to its hilt. The horrible monster roared, stumbling backwards. Sarthacus didn't let go, but soon realized he should have because they were falling into the swamp. He gasped in a breath of air half a second before they hit the water, slime and mud raising into the air as they splashed into it. They quickly began to sink, but Sarthacus realized he couldn't swim away yet for he had to get that key.
He once again held on to the knife, but this time, he slid it down the belly of the beast. Red swirled about him and mixed with the muddy water. He didn't want to do what he was about to, but had to, as crocs were coming, and they were coming fast. Something from behind hit him hard in the back, as a shadow fell upon him from above, but he kept his mind focused on what he had to do. His hand slid into the belly of the beast once more and felt for something like a key. He almost gagged with what he was doing, but pushed on til, there, something smooth and shiny. His fingers closed around it not a second before the monster's body was grabbed by what Sarthacus saw to be only lots of teeth and dragged down into the deeper depths just like so many the mutation had taken for himself in the past.
Sarthacus didn't waste any more time because he was running out of breath. His legs kicked, and his arms thrust the water beneath him. He wouldn't get out of this unscathed, however. There were many more crocs who weren't fighting over the monster's remains and thought Sarthacus looked like a nice snack. He was swimming hard and fast, but he had sunk rather far whilst grasping the dagger in the beast, yet he saw the light above him and knew he was close, just as a jaw clenched his arm between its teeth. Sarthacus screamed out in the depths of the water, losing any oxygen he had left, but he didn't much care about that at the moment and instead was quite worried about his arm filled with agony. The dagger was still clutched in his other hand so he thrust it at the creature gnawing on his arm. It released it and swam off, Sarthacus doing the same.
He reached the top, sucking in the air, coughing out the water that had gotten into his lungs, and clawing his way to the shore. He crawled as far away from the swamp as possible as blood seeped from the deep bite wounds on his arm. After he caught his breath, went a bit further from the swamp, and placed the key, slimy and beautiful, in his pocket, he took his shirt off and tore it into strips to carefully bandage his wound with what he had.
Now, to get out of this bloody awful place. He stood once more and walked in the opposite direction of the swamp til he finally got once more to a vine covered mirror-wall. He pulled back the vines with his good arm, and wondered if he would have to walk all the way around the wall to find the keyhole, but a moment after pondering on that, a keyhole formed in the glass. Sarthacus inserted the key, and the door swung open.


Israel found himself in in a sort of dim hallway with a door before him. When he glanced behind him from the direction he had come, he saw that he could see through the glass mirror. He found that interesting and wondered if he had been watched at all as he fought with the wolverine. Well, no one seemed to be there now so he limped- having already ripped up some of his clothing to use as a bandage for his wound, although it wouldn't do much good for the infection that was surely spreading through his veins at that very moment-  through the door in front of him. It was even darker out here with none of the light from the room he'd been in escaping out. He could tell their was some dim light around the corner, though, so he headed in that direction. He passed another door that looked like the one he had come from, so looked to see if there were anymore. When he turned down the next hallway where the light was coming from, he saw two more, one on either side. So there were four in total, each having a number on its door.
He wondered if there were other people in each of those who had been kidnapped like he was. Just as he was deciding to check the rooms, door #1 opened ahead on his right. Israel ducked back on the side of the wall not knowing whether this be friend or foe, and listened carefully. There was a guy's voice and a girl's, both sounding a bit irritated. Israel listened closely. Wait, those voices sounded familiar. He eavesdropped a minute more before smiling and stepping out from behind the wall. Just outside of door #1 stood a thin girl of about 15 with brown hair and blue highlights, speaking to a boy with black hair that seemed to be about a year older. Although Israel knew the age difference was, shall we say, a bit more significant.
"Nicolette! Niall! Glad you're both alright! It occurred to me a few minutes ago that perhaps I was not the only one kidnapped; however, I didn't really expect to see you here, Niall, since the last I heard of you, you were going back to Dublin for a while."
"Israel!" spoke Nicolette, "You actually know this guy?"
"Yes, Niall Montblanc was in Australia last year, and stayed at E. A. for that period of time."
Niall mentioned something about him being in town for a couple of days and happened to follow someone here before the door on the left slammed open and Nyx Dawn fell out onto her knees with a coughing fit, her gold tipped hair falling about her face and covering the burn mark on her cheek. Israel helped her out the rest of the way and quickly shut the door from whence she came as the room was filled with smoke.
"Hmm," pondered Israel. "Four rooms and four of us, but Niall followed the person that kidnapped us here, right? So there must be someone in room #4. Not only that, but I suspect it's Sarthacus, and he might be in trouble. We'll figure out what's going on later, but first, let's see what's in that fourth room."
Israel limped off once again, not checking to see if the rest were following, but he didn't need to anyway because they all were. 
He turned the corner to where he knew room #4 was, but when he turned that corner, the door was already open. And leaning against the wall was a very thin man with long dark hair. His left arm was cradled in a makeshift sling, and he was soaking wet.
"Sarthacus!" yelled Nicolette. "Are you alright? What happened?"
"Suffice it to say," he muttered quietly after glancing up at the group of them, "I don't ever want to visit Skyril's homeland."

Friday, July 15, 2011

What Makes You Happy?

Someone I Watch on devientart asked everyone a question in her diary. This is how I responded :]

Hmmm, what gives me cheer?
Well, I'll tell you, My Friend,
The answer is actually quite clear,
But to find out, a little time you'll have to expend.

What makes me glad,
Is when my friends are full of joy,
When they laugh, I'm not even a little sad!
It's just so great when no one even annoys.

Also, when the color of a mulberry
Is splashed across an orange sky
And out flies a magic woodland fairy,
Just as a soft breeze appears with a sigh!

Or when I write something fun,
Like a birthday present for a loved one..
Like a story about a crazy expression!
Or a poetic answer to someone's question!

I love it when I get to feed a stray kitten,
Because I'm happy with many various little things,
Like if I bring laughter to someone through something I've written
Or when I go and see and join in at church as everyone sings

God has given so many blessings to me
All of my great friends and family for one,
And all of this precious world I see
Plus this little talent of writing is incredibly fun!

I tag everyone who has read this to also answer the question in their own personal way and post it on your blog!

Friday, July 8, 2011

Happy Birthday, Hellboy!!!!

Author's note
Here's a little miniature poem for you :]
Hope you like it!

Ah, that man from Australia,
His room, strewn paraphernalia,

Lots of names, this man owns,
That killer of a thousand drones.

Sometimes, I may just annoy,
But still, I get to call him Friend Hellboy

Did you know he's a grand inventor? "Duh!"
In a susurrus, he invented, "Epica!"

Everyone knows of his glories!
He'll be awesome-sauce way past his forty's!

He was the first from the South I met,
And one of the best, I'd certainly bet!

In all that he writes, he is amazing!
When he posts a piece, buildings start razing!

He's great and smart and clever!
My friendship with him, I'd never ever sever!

Ah, Hellboy, be good to him, I'm stressing
Because his friendship will always be a blessing!

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Two-Week Absence?

I did only just learn
Kallista shan't return!
This tear-stricken news
Meant no more chasing by goos!

"Oh, woe!" says all
"There is naught to do but fall!"
"How can we survive?" says he
"Her absence for two weeks shall be!"

No more noogies
No more boogies
No more lovely dances
No more sideways glances

This kingdom will be much less merry
And sour will become all the dairy
Without it's queen the land near' slumbers
Depleted are it's once vast numbers

All to hear of those who remain
Are tears repeatedly spilt in vain
Thunder clashes aimlessly
And boys sob shamelessly

But then a light does appear
Glowing brighter and becoming clear
There in violet stands an elegant lass
More beautiful is she than stained glass

All look up with joy and awe
At her return, they yell "Hurrah!"
Kallista's head tips just a fraction
Curious to why their great reaction

"For the next two weeks I'll be here less,
But I couldn't be gone for good, I do confess"
She strikes a pose, ever gallant!
Then hit by lightening... she has that talent...

She looks upon me with a mischievous grin
"You may want to stop typing of my chagrin"
Her hand holds a bucket of slime
To her I say, "Why would I stop this rhyme?"

Well, I'm sure you all know what happened next
And slimy now, I must go, slightly perplexed.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Fallen yet Victorious

 When God closes a door, He opens a window.

This sword I wield
with strength and skill
This shield I hold,
Humble and ready

I prepare for battle
With hope of victory
I think on my foe,
Great and clever

I wear my armor
With unheard prayers
I astride my horse,
White as a gleaming pearl

Chills touch my heart
With icy fury
Nerves wrack my frame,
Wild and frenzied

I charge into battle
With fear hidden deep
I roar a battle cry
Mighty and berserk

Suddenly in the mud
With blood and screams
Thunder clashes; I've failed...
So completely...

I'm slipping from this world
With despair and acceptance...
I feel an odd sensation
Flying, yet pulled back...

My eyes flutter slightly
With weak curiosity,
But I'm gone once more,
Horror filled slumber

Jolting, I awake
With shouts and alarm!
But I'm in a safe place...
Resting and healing...

Others glance my way
With shakes of their heads
Their eyes show their meaning
Sad disappointment.....

I am crippled
With a door that God has shut
I am broken
No longer whole and free and gallant

Will I take this closed door to heart
With depression and shame?
Shall I give up this relentless fight,
falling into desperation?

Nay, I'll hold fast to what I have left
With true and pure happiness...
Nay, I'll rise up every time a door has shut,
Taking advantage of the open window!

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Despair and Joy

The child wept,
And longed to be free
She craved understanding,
She craved a good home
She wanted to dance and laugh and sing!
She wanted to love, be loved,
And happiness bring!

She knew she was weak
And she knew she had blessings,
Yet crave she did for things out of reach,
Crave she did for what everyone wants!
She wanted a family, a doll, and a cat;
She wanted some shoes, a dress
And a hat.

But not a-one
Were hers to gain.
After all, she was just a weak orphan girl
After all, her mind was thought too sick to heal
The little girl was so distraught!
No one wanted her,
Or that's what she thought.

She thinks she's alone,
But it's so not true
God is there, watching from above!
God is there, loving and hearing prayers!
Soon to understand
God wants her!
Her path is Planned.

The light will soon shine,
The Plan unveiled
She'll be a missionary!
And she'll be a great friend of Christ!
Soon to joyfully see
Loved by more than One
And loving all is soon to be!

Monday, June 13, 2011

The Story of Sanguine

She was angry with herself. She'd failed once again. That bloody annoying Sanguine had escaped her grasp for the fourth time! How could she not catch him after so many attempts? She had studied him for three months before even trying to hunt him down! She knew him, knew his thoughts, his motivations, his skills. She knew all known associates he'd worked for in the past, and she knew every person he'd killed. Oh yes, she knew him.
In fact, the very first thing she had read about him was the story of his first murders. He was only 11.

It was late, almost midnight. The boy was tired, but pressed on nonetheless. He had to find his dad. Neither him, nor little Susie had eaten at all today. His mother was weary and blistered. She'd worked hard since dawn til dusk at her knew job, and she refused to even sleep until Henry, her husband, was home from wherever it was he'd been.
The boy's mother was a washer woman. She'd gotten baskets and baskets of strangers' clothing to wash. So, with thoughts of her children in mind, she got to it, dunking and scrubbing, then dunking once more. After that, she would take it and hang it from a line out back, returning to start that laborious process again... and again... and again til her arms were red and raw and her hands covered in blisters. She'd been worked like a dog, only to return home with not enough change to buy even a cup of soup for the family to share.
That's why the blond haired and blue eyed boy had to find his father. Where was he? Why had he not come home this night? He had been coming home later and later every night, but never this late. The boy was beginning to worry. 
He spied a bar named The Irate Duckling. He scurried over there, dodging the deadly course of carriages as they hurtled past, horses a-neighing. Why anyone would willingly be out this late, he did not know.
He got to the entrance and pushed open the door, stumbling into an entirely different environment compared to the calm and cool night outside. Laughing, drinking, and wild singing filled his ears, as the smell of old beer and sweat hit him. He ducked down and stepped around two men brawling on the floor, moving over to a less rowdy table. Three men were sitting there. All of them were chatting and guffawing at the others' unbelievable stories. "Excuse me, sirs, but y'all seen a man in his thirties, 'bout 6 feet with blond hair and blue eyes like me?"
"Wha-?" they turned around to look at the boy. One of them, the one sitting on the left with black, choppy hair said,  "No, now go away! This ain't no place for a child!" Then he turned back around and said the punchline of his joke, which made no since to the boy having not heard it, and burst out laughing. He sighed and moved on to another table, asking the same question and getting the same response.
Having talked to the men sober enough to understand his question and getting negative results, the boy left to search for his father elsewhere. He roamed the dark streets, going up and down them and being careful to avoid any dark alleyways which housed gangs and thieves.
On the next street he heard chatter and music. Another bar. The boy moved between two houses and onto that street, following the sound up the road a bit. It was another bar. This one was called Cosher Tavern . He stepped in. 
The atmosphere was generally the same, singing, laughing, and drinking. He asked the same question at the first table he came up to. This time, though, the answer was different. "Oh, you mean Henry?"
Butterflies fluttered in the boy's belly. "Yes! That's him! Where is he?" The men glanced at each other and chuckled. "Well, boy, 'e's upstairs with Sally... I wouldn't bother 'im right now if I was you, he's busy."
The boy was confused. What did they mean by "busy?" He shrugged. "Well, awright and thanks, lads." The men returned to their beer as if it was a long lost love, and the boy gazed around the room in search of some stairs. There they were, over on that wall. He maneuvered through the crowd to them and ascended. 
It was quieter up here, the noise from below was more like a rumbling and murmuring. He glanced back, slightly nervous at the thought of searching for his father in one of the rooms down this dark and empty hall. He took a step, the floor creaking beneath him. He stood in front of the first door and raised his hand hesitantly to knock. What if there was a murderer in there, thirsty for more blood, and just waiting for some dumb person to bother him so he could wring his neck, or stab his chest or slash his throat, or... maybe he would want it to be slow and would draw out a dull knife with no hurry and begin to carefully carve- no! He mustn't think like that. He must find his dad!
He shook his head and stood a bit taller with determination in his eyes and knocked. No answer. He knocked again, a bit louder. Nothing. The boy sighed with relief and moved on to the next door. No answer again. Next door. An old lady with a half knitted scarf opened the door. "Oh, sorry, Ma'am, I was lookin' fer someone else. You wouldn't happen to know which room is being used for a man in his thirties, 'bout 6 feet, with blond hair and blue eyes like me, would you?"
The lady harrumphed and pointed down the hall. He smiled, "Thank you, kindly." And she slammed the door. The boy shrugged and happily walked to the door the lady had specified. He raised his hand and knocked. No answer. He shrugged again and opened the door, knowing his dad would be in there.
It swung open on slightly creaky hinges and... there he was, standing beside a bed and facing away from the boy! Finally, he'd found him! He opened his mouth, planning to question where he'd been this whole time and how they really needed him back home and he's so glad he's alright and... Wait, why doesn't he have a shirt on? And... why is that girl in there? She must be Sally... She's probably a maid preparing a bath for his dad. Yes, that had to be it, but... why is she wrapping her arms around his neck... and his around her back. Now they're... kissing... no... they can't be.... and they're falling onto the bed. He's... he's cheating on Mum... He couldn't! He wouldn't! He surely could not leave his children at home to starve and his wife alone to work herself to death trying to feed them!
But he was.
Anger wafted over him and boiled inside. It grew and stormed in his chest. It devoured his soul. He looked down, hands clenched and heart smothered in darkness. When he looked up again, his eyes were black and empty. Never again would his eye sockets hold vibrant blue orbs. Oh no, they would hold nothing, and they would hold every bit of love he now held for his father. 
His feet sunk into the boards beneath, soon followed by the rest of him. He appeared for a second next to his father's clothes and withdrew the straight razor he always carried with him, then disappeared below the boards once more. On the other side of the bed he grew out of the ground, razor in hand. "Hello, Father." The man jumped and looked up, "What are you doing here? Get out!" He glared at him angrily before noticing something off with his face as Sally tried to cover herself. "What's... wrong with your eyes?"
The boy scowled. "I just wanted you to know by who's hands your death has come. My name is now Billy-ray Sanguine."
Sanguine slashed and his father's blood gushed out of his throat. Sally shrieked for two whole seconds before the razor slashed her neck as well, cutting her off as she gurgled and drowned in her own blood. He looked down at the two of them laying on top of one another and bleeding out their life, and realized he had become the murderer he was so afraid of.

Thursday, June 9, 2011


A spark in the darkness
A light
In the night

A glow in the black

It weaves and spins
It dips
And tips

It's joined by others
And swaying

They light up the dark
All of them aglow
They put on a show

A girl and her dad walk by
With awe she stares

She smiles with delight
Filled with glee
"It's so pretty!"

But then a question comes to mind
Her brow does knit
"Papa, what is it?"

Her dad looks down with a gentle smile
As he replies
"My dear, they're fireflies!"

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Gothic Storm

By the way, it's not about a song. I just threw that last line in there... I don't even know of there is a song called that :P
I actually wanted to say "Radioactive Decay" because that sounds so epica, and more gothic-y, but it didn't flow very well... so I put in the name of the rhyme instead :]

Moaning wind
Weeping skies
What a delightful day!

Her black lips twitch
An almost smile
At the roar of thunder out there

Lightening flashes
Lights flicker
Excitement flares deep down

The Goth Girl stands
And leaves the room
To venture into her storm

She creeps outside
She lay in it's midst.
She gazes at chaos, almost with pride.

Thunder does boom!
Rain does lash!
Lightening bedazzles her eyes!

Goth Girl watches all
With some satisfaction
Ah, the Queen of the Tempests!

Alas, the rain slows!
It comes to stop,
And clouds begin to dissipate

So away scampers she
To wait for more rain
Headphones a-playing, "The Gothic Storm"

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Betrayer Forgiven

Don't you like the word incognito?
I like that word...
It reminds me of someone,
But I can't remember who....

Oh, she cried
Oh, she sighed

Would she ever be the same?
Could she even say his name?

No, she Would not
And no, she Could not

He had left her all alone there,
Left to cry and sigh and moan there.

Left to think about the past they'd shared.
Did she think he'd ever even cared?

Yes, she had.
Oh, how sad.

How could she be that naive?
Did she really think he wouldn't leave?

No, she knew he would.
To settle down, he never could.

Alas, to him she'd given her trust,
And now he's left her in the dust

"But," she told herself, "Not again!"
She'd fall no more to the lies of men!

He was gone.
She'd move on.

Her eyes still wet, she shaky stood.
Her mind was sharp, her heart was good.

Anger there was non-existent,
For she knew he would be penitent

So she lit a light and cooked a meal
She knew her wounds would eventually heal

To God's Word she will indeed listen
Yes, the Betrayer will be forgiven

And on this night, and nights there after,
She'll pray to God for his health and laughter

Thursday, June 2, 2011


I hope y'all like this, and if anyone has any suggestions for writing stuff better, please, do tell! :] And I'm truly going to try to focus on my fan-fiction soon! I really will!
Well, you know, we'll see how it goes xD

He is one who many do shun
Even when plunged under the sun

The guardian angel comes in daylight,
But at night the monster thrives.
Like him become with just a bite;
No one likes this blood-sucking knight.

His love he gives to only one,
And yet he's left in isolation

Waiting, he stands beneath the trees
To try her blood and steal a kiss,
And soon it happens upon the leaves,
But to her boyfriend she quickly flees.

Sadly alone once more he stands there,
Sweetly recalling the smell of her hair,

But with her red blood still on his lips
His love, the monster hunts tonight,
And as the sun descends and dips
Away to his dark and barred cage he slips.

"Stop!" to the monster, he does beseech,
But it shoves good Caelan far from reach.

Roaring and angry the night will pass by,
Vampire trapped in it's cage yet again.
All through the darkness, the bars it shall pry
It howls at the light, a vicious cry

Caelan at dawn, with new skin will arise
An idea in his mind, oh how wise!

There's something he wants to attain
An acquaintance of his'll be threatened.
Great pain for this man he will fain.
And what in the end shall he gain?

Why, no less, than a serum of Wolfsbane!

Monday, May 30, 2011

Jodi Harte

This is a very short poem I did for Lenka Sweet.
[I don't think I'm a poet, but I'll still try, anyway]
I hope you like it, Lenka!!!! :]

Well let me tell you from the start,
Of this young girl named Jodi Harte!

An elemental was her mum.
Her dad a con, he was not dumb.

To them this black haired babe was born.
In her hair, rainbow clips adorned,

Each to her their trade they did teach
These, from them, she sucked like a leach

But to her parents the Reaper came.
Poor sweet Jodi was never the same.

To her is spoken, "Everyone dies."
She glares him down with her ocean blue eyes!

By their gravestones she stands today.
Jodi hopes at rest they lay.

Alas, she cannot linger, for
She must begone and stay no more.

A bit excited she walks away.
Genius cons she has planned this day!

Many a-thing she does have to do,
And at some point, she plans to con you!

Sunday, May 29, 2011

The Odd Angel

O.o Don't ask me how I came up with this, 'cause I am so not a poet.
It must be all my crazy blogger friends inspiring me :3
It's about Kallista, by the way. I hope you like it, Kal! ^.^
I wonder what the Purple Poet will think of it? I know it's nothing compared to his, but still, I'm actually kinda proud of it even though it's short :]
Hope y'all all like it somewhat!!

Purple was her hair
Her sideburns were orange
And jauntily up there
Sat a top hat with care

Upon her legs, laced boots,
About her waist, a ruffled skirt,
And wildly she hoots
With friends in cahoots

Children know her name
Animals love and woo her
But on boys is her claim
With friends she is the same

She pretends herself a majesty,
And sometimes as a zombie,
When she lifts her brow archly
In a manner rather comly

In ballrooms she does dance
With friends she laughs, delighted
But with foes she takes her stance
And does have quite a fighting chance

Ah, she is our Odd Angel
Always bringing cheer and laughter,
We are so glad she is no fable
Ah, our wonderfully odd, Odd Angel

Friday, May 27, 2011

Kallista is the best

My name is Charity, aka Skyril Oblivion, and I'm here in the hope that Kallista's parents will see this at some point so they can see that I, and many others, as I do believe you will soon see, think the WORLD of Kallista! There's no way whatsoever that she could possibly be a bad influence on us. It's not in her nature. She's EXACTLY the opposite, actually. Words can't say how sad I'd be to never see my amazing friend again. Please.... PLEASE let her come on here as you did before... Please do it, knowing that it will make dozens, all across the world, extremely happy.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Ruler of the World

Author's Note:
First off, I don't think I'll be doing a sequel. :P
Second, this is a special post for Kallista who technically requested some such as this from Lizzy, but it was just too fun for me to resist. :3

The Great Queen sighed and leaned back in her thrown, placing her delicate hand to her forehead wearily. Ruling the world was such tiresome work. She removed her hand, sat up in her seat, and spoke, "My dear boy, who would ever choose orange curtains over that luxurious, deep, and beautiful purple?" The red haired, freckled "boy" of 21 was, in fact, a boy compared to the queen, who was... well, we shan't mention her.... experienced age to the world, as she only looks to be about 20 and very much likes it that way.
The boy stuttered, nervous to be under the gaze of the Magnificent Queen Kallista Pendragon herself. "I'm s-so sorry. I'll fix it right away, Miss- I mean Madame- er Queen Ma'am..." Queen Kallista tilted her head slightly and crossed her booted legs. Her ruffled skirt and draping sleeves were of the finest silks. She quite liked them. She thought for a moment that she must request more from her good friend Ghastly. He, of course, would mutter and growl about how busy he was, but would be secretly be thrilled to make some clothes for the Queen. She smiled, then came back to the current moment as she looked down from her thrown to the boy named Freddie. "Freddie, my dear, relax, and call me 'your Majesty' please."
"Yes, of course, you Majesty. Please forgive me." He lowered his head in shame. Good Queen Kallista couldn't bear the sight, so stood from her perch and stepped down to place her hand on the shoulder of Freddie. "Don't fret, child. Now, would you please do me a favor and change those awful curtains for me as soon as possible?" Freddie raised his eyes a tiny bit, and Kallista smiled that beautiful smile of hers to put the boy at ease. It worked. "Yes, your Majesty," he said, delighted. "I will have those curtains to the royal purple you deserve before the day is out!" He thrust his arm in the air as a heroic stance. Kallista chuckled and waved the boy out.
She returned to her comfy thrown seat and thought, "Now let's see..., I've taken care of the curtains, had tea, laughed haughtily at my enemies... what's next on my list of things to do for the day?"
"Ah yes, " she spoke allowed to her little kitten, Puppy, who had just entered the room.
"Time to save the world."

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Fan-fiction part seven

Mordoc clench his fists and grabbed a syringe from his coat, plunging into his arm. Skulduggery saw all of this too. Then Mordoc, muscles relaxing, looked up to stare with loathing at the skeleton detective. Skulduggery yelled, "Go now!" 
He gave Mordoc one last look before forcing the other two out of the building as all but Mordoc ripped their flesh off.

Skulduggery drove. Vampires bounded after them like panthers closing in on their prey. No one spoke as the engine roared down the deserted road. Mar, who had turned human again as they ran to the car, and Israel sat with slightly shocked and slightly horror-struck features. "Is she dead?" Whispered Mar. No one had to ask whom Mar was speaking of.
"I don't know," replied Skulduggery. "But if she isn't, she'll be a full fledged vampire in two days."
"So what are we going to do?" Israel asked, a tad harsh, but who could blame him? He had just seen his good friend's blood drunk by a vampire. Skulduggery took no offense, "Well first," the car swerved sharply around close-quarters bend, the vampire closest behind them, whose claw was centimeters from the taillight, couldn't spin around fast enough and crashed into the wall. Skulduggery continued, "First we need to find that boy with the crazy hair."
"You mean Fletcher," said Valkyrie, no sign of question in her voice. She whipped out her phone.
"Then we need to heal our wounds as best as possible with those silly Sanctuary doctors. Lastly," his head dipped a fraction. "We need to visit an old acquaintance of mine."


"Get up."
She stands up, neck torn and  blood splattered on her dark green shirt. Mordoc gives her another instruction. Lizzy doesn't really hear it. Everything is drowned out as if she's underwater. She knows what to do nonetheless. Her eyes are clouded. All she can see is something of a deep fog, although there is no fog there. She takes a step, then another. She knows she's outside. She doesn't know how she knows that, although she really doesn't think into it much. She doesn't even think it worth a shrug. Light from above shines down on her. Must be the moon, she thinks. It seems so bright. She doesn't like the light, suddenly. She found it so beautiful before, but not now. There's a man. He's reflecting, shining. and glowing white. Lizzy cringes and looks away. There must have been more instructions because she has a new mission to do. A new task that must be completed. To her, it's of the utmost of importance. To anyone else, 'twould simply be a long and wearisome walk. She would not let anything get in her way. She would not let anyone run off screaming of her ripped neck. She would kill anyone in her path. She would walk all night till her feet bled through her shoes. And she would reach her destination before sunrise.
Or she would kill herself.


Mordoc smiled that awful smile of his at his newest recruit as she disappeared around the corner. Then, turning, leaped atop the the old warehouse and falls down gracefully into the woods behind it. A moment later, out he accelerates, breaking all speed limits by far, on a gleaming silver and white, red splattered motorcycle, coat tails underneath the gleaming armor on his chest whipping out behind him from the wind.


The dungeon was dark and dank and damp and dim and many other unpleasant words starting with D, for truly, this was not a pleasant place. There was not even one window to let in some sunshine. The only light came from three naked and flickering light bulbs, dangling weakly from above. They were far apart and down the middle row of  cells. They hardly cast off enough light for one to see his hand in front of his face. Water from the driving rain outside seeped through cracks in the ceiling, making everything wet and even more sticky than before when it was only uncomfortably hot. Rats scuttled in the corners, sniffing about for some morsels to fill their starving and scrawny bellies They would find nothing edible. A putrid smell of wastes and decaying creatures wafted through the place and mocked the paltry attempts of the fresh air as it tried to slip in here and there. The cells themselves held nothing but grime covered stone walls, puddles of black water, and their nearly hopeless prisoners.
The new boy, Michelle soon discovered, was Lizzy's brother, who is known to her as Halo. His usually spiky brown hair is floppy with the damp and his green eyes look a bit dim as he, she, and the rest of their prison mates sit huddled closely on the highest bit of ground in their little cell. It didn't help a lot, but it helped a bit anyway. The rest of her mates were Susan, to her left with dirt streaked orange died hair, she'd never been on Derek Landy's blog, Steve on her right with charcoal hair, he hadn't been on the blog either, and lastly, across from her, was Dragona. Her great friend from online. 
The other cells on all sides of them held many others. They'd communicated a few times, both sides trying to cheer up the others. Sometimes, when things were really low, they'd reach through the rusty bars, hold hands, and weep, but other times, the better times, they would talk a bit and maybe sing or hum a few hymns.
Uncountable comrades and new developed friends had been taken- shrieking and weeping and cursing their captors- to above. No one knew exactly what happened up there, but they sure as ever knew it was not fun. None of those in the dungeons had ever escaped the sound of tortured screams coming soon after.
But not for much longer. Black haired Michelle and brown eyed Dragona had a plan. A glint appeared in her bluish green eyes as a mischievous smile crept onto her face.