Dream it, live it, love it! Why wait to get something started? The stars are smiling on you now. Get online, get out and about, meet different people and embrace familiar ones. Happy new you!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Pssht.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
You just never realize it.
Monday, July 20, 2009
I'll be one tough act to follow. I'll be one tough act to follow. Here today, gone tomorrow. But you never walked a thousand miles.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Soaked
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Natalie is NOT great.
“Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.” – Dag Hammarskjold
I love these quotes.
Drat, I was supposed to save some rice for Mom...X(
Friday, July 17, 2009
Some people just don't understand the phrase "my inspiration has fled me"...
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Why, I do believe this is actually good. What say you?
“Some things you do because you want to. Some things you do because of the needs of others in your family.”
It was blazing hot and my head itched like mad, but I dared not complain about something so trivial, because it was just so stupid.
After all, I was also starving. I had no home and my family, except for my older brother Tief and younger brother Jaeten, was dead. We were being hunted for no reason and could die at any minute, or be bound and dragged to an imprisonment facility. Jaeten was ill with an unknown disease, probably the common cold, but who knew? And yet I was worried about my scalp itching.
Tief stopped suddenly, and I almost crashed into him. Jaeten bumped into me. He mouthed a ‘sorry’ and looked at our wonderful, wonderful twenty-year-old brother, a.k.a. our savior.
He was scanning the horizon, which was stabbed with the remains of long burned-out hotels. I knew what he was thinking. The remains of civilization could mean food, but it could also mean Rounders. And bombs. And nets and traps. It was dangerous being out in the open, though, too. I was sure we stood out against the blackened earth, with our charred-and-ripped-but-pale clothing. We could always go around the decades-old hotels, or turn back, but we all knew it was more likely that there would be food nearer to buildings, because if the framework survived than maybe some supplies did too.
Or people.
Tief signaled for us to keep moving, and we followed silently. I saw Jaeten looking at our older brother with wonder in his eyes…like he always did. Jaeten idolized Tief, and it wasn’t just because he had no one else to idolize. Without our wise-beyond-his-years brother, we’d very likely be dead. He took care of us after our parents died. He protected us from the soldiers and then the Rounders and stole us food. If he hadn’t managed to get us out of Tampa in time, we’d very likely be dead with the rest of the people trapped in the city.
The thought of all those thousands of people, dead within a few seconds, made my heart sting. President Patterson Darsely might’ve destroyed all the nuclear bombs before England dropped those on us, but regular bombs could kill just as easily, and they most certainly had.
World War 111 killed most of my family, and then the civil war that erupted afterwards killed the rest of it. We were all we had left. I was six when World War 111 ended, eleven when Darsely stamped out the armies set against him and declared the half of the United States that was left to him (which was a little bigger than the original thirteen colonies and included Florida) a united land he named Enta.
The southern got the worst of it, then the western states. The land above New Jersey, however, was the least destroyed, and that’s were Darsely put all the rich people that had survived, like former presidents and celebrities that got lucky and lawyers and everyone who meant something that were still alive. He turned most of the regular folk that survived into an elite fighting force, which certainly gave him an edge when ending the civil war.
Then he had to go and call the rest of us ‘rebels’. Hundreds upon thousands were caught by the Rounders, brought to the imprisonment facilities, tortured, and eventually killed. There was no mercy and no sense. These people were from all around the former United States, not just Enta, but he killed them all the same. There might’ve been a couple hundred rebels who escaped, including me and my brothers.
The Rounders were still there, though. So were the bombs. There was still danger.
“Nala. Do you see that building over there, on the right?” Jaeten’s eyes tightened and he bit his lip, obviously upset that Tief had addressed only me. Ignoring Jaeten’s jealousy, I followed Tief’s pointing finger and saw what he meant. The building was split in half, the upper portion just a skeleton, but the bottom levels were a thick black mass, which suggested something survived within.
I frowned. “It’s probably been cleaned out. It’s kind of hard to miss.”
He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, clearly amused. “You’re absolutely right. But you know that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t check.”
I shrugged off his obvious attempted chance-for-learning moment, since I had heard the same thing many times before. He chuckled softly, so softly in fact that I wasn’t sure if I was meant to hear it.
Jaeten coughed. “It could be booby-trapped.”
Tief nodded, clearly not planning on giving out lessons to our ten-year-old brother. “That’s true of most building.” My little brother looked crushed.
I had to defend him. Tief was being unnecessarily mean. “It’s true that most buildings will be cleaned out already too. You didn’t say anything about that.”
Our leader sighed heavily. He wasn’t going to start arguing, I could tell. Jaeten shot me a thankful look, though, so I didn’t care that our big brother chose to ignore me.
Tief suddenly picked up his pace as he squinted into the distance. “Do you see that?”
I tried to follow his gaze, but saw nothing. We were still very far away from the cluster of hotels. “What?”
He shook his head but didn’t slow down. “I thought I saw something move. A person.”
I swallowed. From Tampa to wherever we where now, probably somewhere in Georgia, we had not met a single person. At least, not one worth getting acquainted with. One young boy had tried to steal our scanty supplies one night, but Tief caught him. I doubted that boy would ever steal again.
“It could be a Rounder,” I warned in a hushed voice. “You don’t know. They have all sorts of tricks up their sleeves. They could be trying to lull us into a false sense of security—”
Tief shook his head, barely paying attention to me, which I imagined gave Jaeten a gratified feeling. “I don’t think it’s a Rounder. They wouldn’t lower themselves to waving their arms to get someone’s attention just to catch them—”
“I don’t even see what you’re talking about,” I interrupted, but as soon as I finished saying it, I did. In the far distance, barely visible since she/he was wearing dark clothes, a figure was waving their arms around madly, obviously trying to get our attention.
Maybe to warn us away.
I doubted Tief would listen to that argument, though. He tried to hide it, but I could tell; he was weary of the same company day in and day out. He longed for more people. He longed for something new to distract him. I sympathized. I imagined it must grow tedious, after awhile, to spend years with no one to talk to but your two younger siblings.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
I am seriously messed up.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
I was tagged by Lizzie! Ya-hoo!
I wouldn't be in a place per se, but more of a state of mind. Everything I wrote would come easily and be beautiful and entrancing. The blockage on my Pool of Inspiration would be gone.
And all the things that you never ever told me...and all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me.
I traced the details of my house on the window; the huge disproportionate roof, the oblong porch that stuck out from one side, the tiny round windows in the top floor. It looked so hollow and empty. Because of its abnormal shape, it wasn’t quick to sell, and Mom was in a hurry. My home for fifteen years was to be demolished the coming Saturday.
The drive to our new house was going to take fourteen hours, crossing through Canada, but Mom wouldn’t just buy plane tickets. She said it would take too long. She, unlike me, wanted to get out of Rockford, Michigan as soon as possible. She was still reeling from the divorce and desperate to escape Dad, who, by an ill twist of fate, was her promoted to her boss a day after divorcing her. Three days after everything became final, she started packing our bags.
I asked her where we were moving. She stopped throwing things in a bag, stood up, and stared at me till I left. At dinner that night, she announced we were finally going to make use of the old house her uncle had left her in his will.
“I thought you said it was too old to be an actual house,” I say, bored. She will probably change her mind by tomorrow. There’s no way we’re moving to Vermont.
Mom shoots me a sharp look. “Mia, I want the utmost cooperation from you. I’m going to busy with arrangements and I need you to watch over Jeffery.”
I look out the window, unafraid. “Why would we move to another cold state? Why not Florida?”
She doesn’t answer. She shakes her head and resumes eating dinner. She never lasts in any sort of discussion. She’s too weak. She’ll change her mind.
Mom had been serious about moving to Vermont. She could’ve gotten another job, but no, we had to move out of the state. I stared bitterly out the window, at my home. It would be gone forever in four days. My childhood, gone in four days.
Jeffery whined from the middle row, his round blue eyes confused.
“’Sokay, Jeffy,” I whispered. Mom must’ve heard me, but she didn’t say anything. She was too defeated to say anything to me. If it came to a fight, which it surely would, I would destroy her.
Strangely, after she had declared we were moving, we stopped fighting. I avoided her because I was furious; she avoided me because she was exhausted. It had been a strangely calm, yet tense, week.
Jeffery continued to whine.
“Throw him a toy, will you, Mia?” She didn’t look at me as she said it. Maybe she was worried our eyes would ignite the screaming match.
Jeffery’s tiny blue elephant, the only toy not in a suitcase somewhere, was shoved into the stuffed glove apartment at last minute, when Mom had realized he had nothing to play with.
He grabbed it as soon as he saw it, and immediately started chewing one of the soft blue ears. Mom saw it in the rearview mirror and sighed.
My home disappeared from sight too soon. I knew I’d never see it again, so I stared at it as long as I could, trying to hold the memory of it in my head. I looked for my bedroom window, but it didn’t come into view till we were turning the corner.
My breath caught in my throat. There was someone standing in the window. Their face peered out at me, cold as stone, with blood red lips and hollow cheeks, and eyes the color of the midnight sky.
It was not peaceful, even in sleep. It’s heavy back rumbled as it breathed like an earthquake, its teeth shivered with every breath. I had been taught to fear the teeth…and respect them.
Awaking the beast would mean death. I had to remember that.
Slowly I moved. Just a tiny bit, stopping suddenly in case it showed signs of waking up. The beast remained sleeping. Setting aside my relief, I completed the step closer to its massive hulking body.
A painful, horribly sharp noise burst over head of me. I didn’t have to look to know it was that of the colorful Gayana Bird, the loudest in the forest. In my mind, I saw the bright plumage, a rainbow of colors, always different…the sharp, golden brown beak and talons…the shining white eyes that never blinked.
The monster stirred, very gently, and I froze.
A grumbling sound, like a volcano, erupted from it, shaking the earth with its force. I refused to breathe, in case it would give away my position. I had to complete my mission…death, if I didn’t.
The grumbling stopped, and the beast was still asleep.
Again, I put aside the overwhelming relief and slowly, carefully, raised the sharp glinting spear over it. So close…I could not fail now.
In that moment, I realized I was alone. If I failed…if I missed the heart…no one could save me. This was my orientation. If I did not learn, I would die. It was simple…it was terrifying.
I closed my eyes…they would betray me if I saw the disgusting scene about to unfold. Whether it would be mine or the beasts, blood was about to spill. My one weakness…gore. One of the many reasons my orientation was so much more deadly than others. I had to overcome my fears, or else I could not survive. Only the strongest survived, and I had to.
My eyes did not give me away…my terror did. As I raised the spear higher, I could not fight back the sharp intake of breath as I thought about the impossible task I had been assigned to.
In that one instant, I saw the monster’s horrible blazing eye, red like fire, staring at me.
No, I thought. I’m not going down without a fight. Not like this.
No longer hesitating, I shoved the spear into its chest, praying I would hit the heart.
The red eyes still stared at me, but the looked not angry. Fear tainted them, not rage. I realized that I was so entranced by it, I had forgotten to close my eyes. But it didn’t matter…all I could see was that burning eye staring at me. I could not feel anything except what I saw in that eye…fear, sadness…loneliness. Time froze. Its eyes went blank.
The wind whistled briefly through the trees and almost seemed to say Thank you.
Time restarted.
Monday, July 13, 2009
This isn't healthy.
- Interior decorating and housing/furniture styles.
- Expensive clothes.
- Back-to-school shopping (school supplies, not clothes).
- The Sims 2
- The Xenon.
- Article writing (for the school newspaper).
I'm fantastic.
Okay, so for back-to-school, I'm writing an article on: If it had to be one or the other, should music/art or sports be cut? I should get started on that, but most of it I can't do till school starts. I also started one for the Valentine's Day edition (I know, faaaaaaaar away): Can middle schoolers feel love? Fun, no? I started writing it and so far it's just the deep, corny crap I expected. Yahoo!
By the way, not that it's particularly important, but I believe it's the indivual, not the age group, that feels love, and it's a different love for every person.
[Hit the Floor--Linkin Park]
I would, of course, be referring to romantic love. But hey, if you can love your friends and family, can't you love someone as a boyfriend/girlfriend? I think most people would say no because our age throws the term around too much and doesn't realize what it really means. But really, does anyone know what love is?
So, I would update you on my recent going-ons, but there have been none.
I'm going to go browse the Charlotte Russe website for back-to-school ideas.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
And the world thinks that I'm to blame...why can't we see that when we bleed, we bleed the same?
This is a little-known fact, but I love high-end clothes. I love clothes that you see and think "I could never wear that. Only movie stars wear that." Some of my favorite stores include Express, Bebe, Charlotte Russe, BCBGMAXAZRIA, Armani Exchange, Juicy Couture, and Marshall Rousso, which I secretly love despite the fact that they're all for twenty-three-year-olds. The clothes reek fashion, even the ones from Juicy Couture and Marshall Rousso (I never actually went into these stores, but I absolutely adored the clothes on the mannequins in the window).
- I'm not 23, and thus, I don't have a 23-year-old's body.
- If I wore these clothes to school, I'd still be stared at, but for a much different reason.
Ah, the horrible suckishness that there are no high-fashion clothes for eigth graders.
http://www.express.com/catalog/product.jsp?productId=19908&parentCategoryId=2&categoryId=444&subCategoryId=470 Damn, it won't let me get a picture. Anyway, this shirt is soooooo hot, and the belt just completes it. I'm not sure if it would be allowed in school, because of the sleeves and the sheerness (even with a tank underneath).
http://www.express.com/catalog/product.jsp?productId=21156&parentCategoryId=2&categoryId=444&subCategoryId=470 I absolutely adore this neckline, and I wish I knew what it was called. The shirt is just so glamorous, but not flashy. I think the sleeves would be okay in school.
http://www.express.com/catalog/product.jsp?productId=20040&parentCategoryId=2&categoryId=444&subCategoryId=456 This outfit is just incredibly classy and fashionable. With tights (no) or dark skinny jeans (yes) like the description says, it would be perfect.
http://www.express.com/catalog/ensemble.jsp?ensembleId=508&parentCategoryId=2&categoryId=4&subCategoryId=440 This entire outfit flows perfectly together. I love the stripes on the shirt and the silver accesories just add something. The only problem is the top of the shirt.
http://www.bebe.com/bebe-Paint-Splattered-Tank-Dress/dp/B001UAA4WI?ie=UTF8&asinSearchPageIndex=9&pf_rd_r=1Y0BTYDG9YHA4K8GYD8N&navAsinList=B001UNM3XS%2CB001OPYKKQ%2CB00226EDKI%2CB001UNNQ52%2CB002APQ6Y2%2CB001R4NHHQ%2CB00243QT88%2CB002AL7YF6%2CB0024QR47U%2CB001UAA4WI%2CB0022685ES%2CB001UX1NNY%2CB0027DK2EC%2CB002268FPM%2CB001VROPT8%2CB001UX3QL6%2CB0024QP6KM%2CB0027QFWB2%2CB00243OQO2%2CB002ALDF4K&node=675941011&pf_rd_s=search-results&field_browse=675941011&searchSize=20&navAsinListIndex=0&pf_rd_t=101&field_availability=0&id=bebe%20Paint%20Splattered%20Tank%20Dress&searchBinNameList=null&store=core&pf_rd_p=482133391&ref=search_results_10&searchNodeID=675941011&pf_rd_i=675941011&field_launch-date=-1y&searchRank=-custom-rank&searchPage=1&pf_rd_m=A2FMOXN01TSNYY Holy shit, this is hot. Unfortunately, so is the rest of the clothes in bebe. They're all very sexy, no?
http://www.charlotterusse.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3676600 Damn. I could wear this.
http://www.charlotterusse.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3676578 I love this neckline, but seriously, no thirteen-year-old could either pull it off or wear it without controversy.
http://www.charlotterusse.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3632337 Dude! Tell me one reason I couldn't wear this to school!
http://www.charlotterusse.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3632236 Good God. I love Charlotte Rousse. There are so many more, but I don't want to waste space, considering how long this entry is gonna be anyway.
http://www.bcbg.com/product/index.jsp?productId=3611535&cp=2769162.2840697&page=3&parentPage=family This. Dress. Is. So. Freaking. Hot.
http://www.armaniexchange.com/product/womens/knit+tops/sequined+grecian+top.do?asc=&sortby=&size=&imageName=2333.10964.6828.042&sizeName= God, I love this store. If the link doesn't work, add the =.
http://www.armaniexchange.com/product/womens/collection/casual/marled+wrap+cardigan.do?asc=&sortby=&size=&imageName=2411.10601.6842.013&sizeName= Holy crap! This is so perfect! I can't even get over how perfect it is!
http://www.armaniexchange.com/product/womens/collection/casual/roll+up+cargo+pant.do?asc=&sortby=&size=&imageName=2102.10938.7761.202&sizeName= I can't even say it. See above.
http://www.armaniexchange.com/product/womens/collection/sophisticated/gold+trim+pencil+skirt.do?asc=&sortby=&size=&imageName=2052.10071.7255.423&sizeName= There is nothing I love quite so much as pencil skirts.
http://www.juicycouture.com/shoponline/women/apparel/dresses/prodT23KJ I don't see how anyone, anywhere, would ever have the oppurtunity to wear this, but still. Wow.
http://www.juicycouture.com/shoponline/women/apparel/topssweaters/knitssweaters/prodT26P9 Need words be said?
And I couldn't find anything from Marshall Rousso, though they looked so incredible at Atlantic City. Oh wellz. Wow, I have expensive taste. I wish I was 23 and could wear this stuff. Oh well. It's Charlotte Russe for me. What are your favorite stores?
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
OHEMJAY!
HALLELUJAH!!!
It's also my one-hundredth post! Oh, I feel so special!
Celebrate with me! C'mon, don't be shy! RAISE THE ROOF!!!!!
Wooooooooooooooooooooooot!
It's jubilation!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Dear anonymous,
The Burners
Shadow
It's a week till school starts and a week after her dad cheated on her mom, resulting in a disastrous and rushed divorce. It's not that Mia cares about that...but when her ex-dad gets promoted and becomes her mom's new boss, her mom can't take anymore. That night she announces they're moving to a house her uncle left her in his will.
Two days later, her mom is driving Mia and her baby brother, Jeffery, fourteen hours to the small town of Berkshire, Vermont. Almost immediately, Jeffery starts some strange behaviour, and Mia is stuck with no friends for the entire summer. To make matters worse, her mom is never around anymore, almost as if she's disappeared.
This is not a typical teen-adjustment story. Now it gets ugly...
After two weeks of eerie silence, Jeffery erupts into tears on the kitchen counter. Mia rushes in. Standing over her brother, eyes gaunt and cheeks hollow, is the cursed ghost named Isaiah...
Terrified, Mia slowly starts to reach for a knife, but instead comes face to face with the grotesque demon Lidra. She is sure she's going to die when Isaiah leaps in front of her and vanquishes the demon back to the forbidden attic.
Isaiah explains that he was cursed to remain on Earth for eternity, denied his access to heaven. He wandered around for centuries before discovered the murderous spirits and demons that dwell in this house. He soon devoted his life (death?) to protecting the innocents that lived in the haunted house.
He also has a warning...Lidra and the other monsters are after Mia and Jeffery. They've waited centuries for a young, susceptible body to use as a passage away from the house and back to Earth. Mia and her brother and the perfect hosts for the demons to wreak their havoc. However, Mia's spirit cannot dwell in the body still...she must be killed.
Isaiah quickly becomes Mia's sole friend, protecting her and Jeffery from the demons that want her dead.
It is day-to-day terror for Mia, until her stepsister Lizzy comes to visit for the summer. Suddenly, all the ghosts disappear, including Isaiah. At first, Mia is relieved. Aside from missing Isaiah, she and her brother are finally safe. Even if Lizzy is cruel and she officially has no friends...
Oh, but it's not over yet. Just wait and see what happens next...
Soon, however, Mia begins to suspect something more sinister with the disappearance of the ghosts. Her mom stops leaving voicemails and stops leaving her shoes at the door...all traces of her disappear. Mia's fears are confirmed when she catches Lizzy hanging over Jeffery's crib, knife in hand...
Suddenly it's again a fight to stay alive, and this time, Isaiah cannot save her.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
I tried to do handstands for you, but every time I fell for you. I'm permanently black and blue, permanently blue for you.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
"Yeah, you got lost, but you made your way back home. You sold your soul like a Roman vagabond."
Friday, July 3, 2009
In celebration of the event.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Frustrating ass.
There she wrapped her crystal-like tan-speckled-with-white wings around herself in an effort to keep warm. This was why she hated winter so much; it got so cold, and it got cold so much faster. She had spent so many nights exactly like this; shivering, terrified, and alone. For seven years she had been trying to survive like this. Ever since she was eight, ever since—she couldn’t think it. She shook back the pain and the memories and closed her eyes. If only she could fall asleep…
Of course, as it always was in large cities, that was impossible. New York was winding down, surrendering to the blanket of night that surrounded them, and yet there was still so much heartache. Mentally, Willow cursed her gift. Her mother could do great things with the Forbidden Magic, but she had been killed before she could teach Willow anything. Now she was stuck with the power she had been born with: to feel the emotion of anyone within a five-mile radius, to absorb their pain as well as their happiness. The most prominent feeling was always sadness, despair, desolation, and without training, Willow could not escape it.
She tucked her head into her wings as well, her tawny brown/blonde hair falling over the outside. Inside her pale cocoon, the tears fell freely. It was so unfair. It was nights like these she craved her mother the most, prayed for her gentle embrace and her soothing voice whisking her tears away, her melodious singing and beautiful smile. Her mother could take away the constant onslaught of pain, could teach Willow how to be strong like her. She was fifteen, but she felt like an eight-year-old again.
Willow shuddered, for an instant picturing the pain in her mother’s eyes as her wings were torn off and her neck was snapped. She could do nothing to save her. No one could. To save her, her mother had forfeited her own life.
It wasn’t worth it.
When finally it was too cold to bear, Willow fell asleep. The numbness took over and she began to dream…dream of that night almost exactly seven years ago.
Willow’s mother set the plate in front of her, smiling. Willow had just lifted her fork when the first scream was heard.
Almost instantly, her mother raced out the door, the little girl following. The mother screamed for her daughter to go back inside when a man punched her, knocking her to the ground. Willow, confused, looked up.
She recognized the man instantly. Leo Ronaldines. Her father, arrested years ago for treason against the royal family. He glowered at her with bloodthirsty eyes.
“Papa,” she whispered, holding out a trembling hand to him.
The man was knocked back suddenly. Willow’s mother screamed, with a violent force the eight-year-old had never heard before, “Stay away from my daughter, you monster!”
Urgently, oblivious to the situation, Willow cried, “Mama, that was papa!”
The mother stared at her daughter in shock, as if she could not believe the tiny girl didn’t know what was going on. The Conspiracy’s were everywhere, killing everyone who tried to fly or fight, setting fire to everything. Screams filled the air and blood painted the town. And yet Willow was only concerned with seeing her father…the leader of the Conspiracy’s…
In her sleep, Willow shuddered violently. She longed to escape this nightmare, but it was sucking her in.
One of the Conspiracy’s grabbed Willow, who instinctively began to attack the man. It was no use…jail had made them hard and strong, impossible for a weak, young eight-year-old to beat.
Willow screamed for her mother, whose eyes were blazing as more Conspiracy’s surrounded them. The traitors knew who these two were; Leo had ordered them to be killed no matter what.
“Close your eyes, Willow!” her mother screamed, but the little girl didn’t. She saw the monstrous lightning erupt from her mother’s fingertips, striking through the Conspiracy’s that surrounded them. They collapsed to the ground. The mother turned and locked eyes with her daughter, who was gaping at her, shocked.
“Run, Willow,” she whispered softly. The Conspiracy that had held the girl was dead as well, his arms completely burned off. Willow could see pain in her mother’s eyes and didn’t move.
Moments later, her mother fell to the ground, writhing in pain. The Forbidden Magic was consuming her. She needed hours to rest after using it to such an extent, but now she didn’t have hours. The Conspiracy’s were closing in.
Willow ran to her mother, tears streaming down her face. She already knew her mother would die. But Willow had the Magic too. Couldn’t she save her?
“Mama,” she whispered. “Mama, I’ll help you.”
“You have to run!” the woman shrieked, in too much pain to try and hide it from her daughter. Willow swallowed, feeling the image of her mother dying being branded onto her brain.
A Conspiracy grabbed her.
Still more surrounded her mother. They grabbed her off the ground, tore off her lovely midnight blue wings. Willow watched the blood drip from the severed wing with too-wide eyes. She heard her mother scream like there was no greater pain in the world.
The mother looked up; saw the fear in her daughter’s eyes, and nothing else. She could feel her daughter’s pain, her terror. She felt nothing else. Only one thought crossed her mind: Willow must live.
With the last bit of energy left in her, she shot her lightning through the Conspiracy that imprisoned her daughter. Almost instantly the Conspiracy holding her bent her head at a ninety-degree-angle, instantly killing her. Now Willow knew what to do. She leapt into the air, unfurling her wings, and took off with the speed of a jet.
Every fairy in Ganea saw her escape, and everyone froze, the Conspiracy’s and the civilians. They watched her shrink and shrink till she was just a dot in the sky. They watched her disappear.
A single tear fell from the sky and landed on her dead mother’s horrified face.
Willow woke up with her face drenched in tears. As if watching her mother be brutally killed once wasn’t enough. As if seeing the home she loved, Ganea, fall to destruction wasn’t enough. As if seeing her father, with such hate in his eyes, destroy everything she held dear wasn’t enough.
Hate surged through her as she thought of Leo. He was a monster, a villain beyond description. Her life’s mission, from the moment she escaped into the human world, was to find him and kill him.
But she couldn’t bring herself to go back to Ganea, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to kill Leo, no matter how evil he was. She knew she was powerful enough to, but her mother wouldn’t have wanted it. The only time her mother hurt a fly was when her beloved daughter was in danger.
The dream, though, ignited a new anger within her, a hate to such extent she had never felt before. She wanted someone to die for what the world had done to her, her mother. She wanted Leo to suffer.
With a ferocious hate boiling just under the surface, Willow took off.
She couldn’t even think of someone seeing her on the streets below. Nothing was going to slow her down, not this time. She knew exactly how to get to Ganea from the human world, and it was not a long trip. It was the same path she had taken when she escaped Ganea all those years ago.
Willow could fly extremely fast. The Appalachians were in sight within two minutes. Without hesitating, she dove straight for them, watching the rock speed towards her with grim expectation.
She exploded into the mountain, but there was no pain, no sound, no change. The gray/brown stone slid effortlessly into a slate-gray sky and the otherworldly feeling of being entirely encased in rock was replaced with the chilling feeling of flying through cold, dusky air.
It was quiet below. The entire of Ganea was dark and despondent…not like the world she once knew. The once silver trees that stood throughout the countryside were black and broken and dead, the once blue skies were dark gray with swirling clouds. The entire land was deathly still and silent. The city also looked dead, once beautiful homes, temples, and stables were now in ruin or burned down, and Willow wondered how the fairies lived there.
Why couldn’t they just fly away, though? Why couldn’t they simply spread their wings and fly away? She went down at a slight angle, searching for an answer.
A loud, shocking cry shattered the eerie silence, almost sending Willow plummeting to the ground. Her eyes instantly went to the source of the noise.
A large, heavily-built man was towering over a small child, holding a grotesquely familiar contraption with gleaming blades. The child looked about three…just old enough to fly. The realization dawned on Willow slowly.
She stared at the scene in shock. The man wrenched when of the child’s wings away from it’s back and set the tip of the brown, feathery wing in between the blades. She couldn’t bear to look, but she heard very clearly the child’s bitter cries as the Conspiracy clipped the tips of it’s wings. The noise made her stomach churn. It wouldn’t be long…
Pain shot through her, the same pain that the child was feeling. Pain was coming from all around…every fairy in Ganea was heartbroken. It was overwhelming. It numbed her devastating fury at the same time it fueled it.
Leo would pay for this.
The gleaming white castle (called the Château Blanc) that once housed the royal family of Ganea now glowed with a shadowy light. There were no guards, and why would there be? Leo had nothing to fear. No one would dare take a stand against him. Willow aimed herself towards a window on what might have been the third floor and entered the castle with no difficulty.
The hallways of the castle were nearly twenty feet wide and at least twenty feet high. Willow took a moment to examine the pearly white marble that made up every tile on the ceiling and the floor of the Château Blanc. She had never been inside before; it was breathtaking. The hallway snaked in a circle around the main hall, rising up till they reached the top. A black iron gate kept anyone from falling off (as if that were possible) and intricate columns lined the edge.
Voices interrupted the dead silence in the castle; Willow knew immediately that one of them was Leo’s. She felt anger pierce through her, and it was not only from her hatred of her father. She ducked behind a column.
“I am done with your failures,” Leo hissed, his footsteps heavy against the marble. “For seven years we have spent every resource in finding her! Yet your searches and studies turn up nothing.”
“Please, sir,” a much quieter voice pleaded. “We get leads, but she moves too quickly. She never stays in one place more than a night. She has no contact with anyone, so finding clues to where she’s going is nearly impossible.”
Leo was silent for a moment, considering. Then he spoke, “As long as she lives she is a threat to our order.” Leo and the second man were now rounding the corner, where Willow could see them. She tried to make herself as small as possible behind the column, not sure what to do if she was caught. She knew they must be talking about her…and here she was, only a few feet away from the man trying to kill her.
She wondered for a moment if she could use the Forbidden Magic to make herself invisible, but quickly dismissed the idea. The Magic had drained the life out of her mother, who was highly trained. What could it do to her?
“But…” The other man seemed hesitant. “But, sir…why is she a threat? She never once made a move to suggest she would come to Ganea to defeat you. She’s never done anything threatening or suspicious.”
Leo stopped walking, and the other man did quickly after him. They were out of Willow’s line of vision, and she wouldn’t risk moving to look at them.
“You do not know what she is capable of.” Leo’s voice was low, angry. The other man swallowed. Willow could only guess what her father’s face looked like. For a moment, she felt bad for the unknown man.
It was time. She stepped out from behind the column. Leo and the other man immediately turned to stare at her.
“Who are you?” the other one sputtered, his face red. “You can’t be in here!”
The weak one didn’t even know who she was, but Leo did. Their eyes locked. They had the exact same eyes.
“You killed my mother,” she whispered softly, though rage boiled inside.
He didn’t speak. He only stared at her, his face stone, his eyes cold. He wanted so badly to kill her…but now that she was right in front of him, he was frozen. She wore the same expression he did.
“You killed your wife,” Willow continued, her eyes narrowing.
Pain racked Leo’s body, but he did not show it. His wife…his beloved Emaline…it was cruel that she and his daughter were the only ones who absolutely had to die. They were the only one who could possibly stop him from his master plan.
“Oh, God…” the other man gasped. “Is…is it her? It’s her! Willow!”
“Shut up,” she hissed at him. “Shut up, shut up. Don’t ever say my name!”
It wasn’t so much him saying her name that bothered her, but surely, by now, someone would’ve overheard them. She could hear the footsteps of Leo’s guards pounding up the smooth marble hall. Some were flying.
They appeared the same way Leo and the other man had, but this time Willow was prepared. She froze them with a single look, some in mid-air. She could feel the power coursing through her, making her fingers tingle.
“You killed your wife.” she repeated. Leo’s eyes tightened at the corners.
“I was never married.” he hissed.
The fury was too much. Willow screamed wordlessly, pushing all the pain into him. He cried out from shock, doubling over. Despite herself, Willow smiled cruelly at his pain.
He was silent, but angry. Furious. But Willow was madder. She was losing control of herself. She could feel the pain and anger and fear of every living soul, and it was torturing her. And their pain was his fault.
She stretched out her hand violently, without realizing what was happening. The guards looked on with terrified expressions, still frozen, unable to fight back. Willow could feel power draining from every part of her and shooting out of her finger tips. Lightning was everywhere. The black, ink-like lightning from her fingers, striking them every Conspiracy, just as her mother’s had. Her mother had collapsed from the power of the Forbidden Magic, but Willow was not collapsing. She was enjoying the power, feeding off of it.
There was a flash of light and a ferocious roar. The lightning froze where it was, as if it were solid. Inside, Willow panicked. What was happening? What was wrong?
Gleaming black scales coating the outside of the lightning. Leo screamed, but it was drawn out, like the world was in slow motion. The lightning seemed to concentrate inside the inky scales, still glowing with ferocious light.

