Fear

Do you believe in ghosts? Karma? Are you superstitious? For some odd reason, I am a bizarre mixture of the three. I do not believe in knocking on wood, or spilling salt, and all the rest. But, When I am walking in a dark hallway, I end up running, for fear of zombies. I never turn my back on a mirror, or turn away from one without making sure my face had not turned into a freaky monster thing.  And I never turn my music off at night, because hearing sweet, familiar music, though my rock music is not the sweetest of the bunch, at the witching hour of 3:00 AM is rather comforing.It’s bizzare, I’ll be the first to admit, but you never know…

You never know whats lurking when you’re not looking,

or whats the substance of those creepy basement-living shadows,

why the furnace snarls at you,

and the reason for the creaking at night, the very same that sound like footsteps on your roof.

You will never know how surreal your world is

until you leave it.

Devon’s Story

Internet Friends,

I am uploading the preface for my book, which is yet to have a title. Enjoy!

                                                                        Preface           

The massive gray wolf advanced toward where I lay broken and bleeding in the snow. And I knew I had seconds left, no matter the shallow wounds I’d given my attacker, he was still winning, slashing at my upraised arms that were feebly trying to protect my face. With every ounce of strength I had left, I threw my legs into a wrenching kick straight into the wolf’s broad chest. He flew back from impact, snarling viciously, rage burning deep in the depths of his eyes.  Scrambling up to his feet, pausing only to shake the snow and ice crystals from his fur, he crouched, tensing his leonine muscles. The wolf then sprang, launching himself at me, claws out before him, ready, dagger teeth exposed in an ever-widening enraged sneer.  Even as I saw him launch, I could not move, I could not scream, paralyzed and silenced by fear and pain as I was, the fresh blood pouring from my wounded arms, legs and stomach created a haze in my brain, pulling me into suffocating darkness, drowning me in more pain. I could only lie on the bloodied snow, and loose the fight.

Merry Christmas

Carillon

Silver sound

Peal of Bells

Silent angles

Of a silent night

Embers of hope

Drift from the barn

Golden hay

Lines his manger

Sacred child

Only smiles

And angles sound off

 A Carillon,

A peal of bells

Mackenzie

Imagine a friend. A best friend. Someone who gets you. You laugh with , go on adventures. Never once in their presence have you been afraid they would turn on you.

Because that is how it is. She is my best friend, and I am her’s. That is how it should be.

You never hold back, you say whats on your mind. Some how, those best friend types seem to have a talent in making your brain-gunk seem understandable.

A shoulder to cry on. A protector, some one to protect. A sister, life long companions.

And we understand each other.

Why else would we spend hours geeking out over computer games, Anime, wolves, and other worlds.

Or ranting about this book character, and that episode of this show.

Fighting is seldom, few and far between.

We are parts of each other’s family.

And for all these reason’s, I’d like to thank my best friend, Mackenzie.

Rock on girl.

How do you paint a feeling, sketch music, describe a phenomenon? I don’t know, but this blog shows I can try.

Your amazing, forever and always.

Guidance From Above

“Follow in My Foot Steps”

Said She

From a void above

“Prove the Power of love”

He whispered

In a downy world of clouds

“Be a flicker in a desolate night”

They chorused together

From the border of mountain and atmosphere

“But who are you?”

I asked

To the twinkling waters, and the ice

To the dancing grass, and the dreaming trees,

Over, to the old brook, and chattering pond.

Beyond, past the peaks, and pastures,

To the open air.

“I am”

it replied

” all to whom you are asking

and all unregarded

The questions un-asked

the songs unuttered

the petals yet to fall

and the tears waiting to be shed.”

“It tells me nothing”

I called

“You need not to know anything”

they called

“Only our name, and her title, and his calling.”

“What?”

I shouted.

“Fate.”

They whispered, and faded out and away

riding the winds.

Wake Me if Your Out There

Wake Me If Your Out There If…….

• You fall asleep to rock music
• you sing when the crowd falls silent
• You think: Screw dancing in the rain, try a blizzard!
• if you’re an introvert who looks on to their extrovert friends with maybe-their-crazy-caution
• you can listen to the voices on the wind, that originated from Australia
• you think most video game food looks delicious
• You wanted to be a fighter Pilot after watching Top Gun
• You switch in and out of english and Fantasy Book languages
• You would go to the future in a time machine, Because who wants a re-run?
• You can recite your favorite books cover to cover
• You would jump at the chance to skydive (haha, pun intended)
• Horses rule your world
• You have had a snowball fight in Mid-July
• You and your best friends have strange nicknames, some of them you got off a dog naming sight
• You have zero hand-eye cordnation
• You wonder how to think if you know no language
• You dream in books
• You would love to be a wolf girl, wolf boy, wolf person

Devon, my best-make-believe-friend

I am a writer. Obviously, since you are reading my blog, I must have a passion for the literary arts. Anyways, and I’d bet any writer would agree with me, my characters are real(to me) and I cannot make them be anything but themselves. My favorite “friend”, is Devon. Similar to my normal, reality friends, she has a very distinct personality, so when working with her, I can’t make her do something that is not how her traits and mind-set would naturally lead her to act. A little about her: she is exceptionally aware of sounds, sights around, as she had a most unusual upbringing. A wild situation, that one is, and I will be posting bits of the story later, so you may read for yourself. She loves rock music, and has zero patience for that slow wimpy stuff. You know what she means. And she is brave. Brilliant. And very confused with all things of the human world. We get along very well, naturally. I tend to jabber on about her to my class mates until they look at me with maybe-she-is-insane looks. My favorite part about Dev is that she is better than an “Imaginary friend”. Those guys are very private, and they tend to fade away. Yeah, never had that problem with this girl, she has arguments, conversations, sob-fests, all in my head. It’ll be a sad, crazy day when she is silent for over an hour. But that’s why I write. for my characters, to live with them in their worlds. That’s why I deal with them.

 

 

Being I

Middle School. A phrase all of us look unto with unpleasant memories, or perhaps a chuckle for fond reminiscing that come flooding to you now. I tend to agree with the first reaction.
Close your eyes. Now imagine your tallish, a writer, an introvert, someone who is not easily copied, and tough(which some interpret as cold). That is a facet of me. Middle School is strange because, naturally, about thirty new kids got accepted to my grade, so the bulk of the sixth grade was around seventy. Stranger yet, to see brand new kids surrounded by groups of friends when you have one or two friends, one who, most of the time, is off in some dreamland, or being mean to you exclusively. I do not feel like I have to be surrounded by friends, on the contrairy, I prefer to be alone, but really,  the new kids must really tone down their smug aura, it’s dizzying.
But really, I like staying behind the crowds, following a few feet behind, to observe why these strange children act the way they do.  They’re very scatter-brained, unable to stick to one subject for more than a few seconds, distracted by trivial things, that really, are not so important, if you REALLY want to take a semi-close look at life. Haha. But there are some kids, one of them in particular, who has shown to rise above. This girl is shot through with individuality, and we became fast friends.

But sometimes, when the girl is off with her other group friends, I wonder, why I fade into the background, like an arctic fox in a blizzard.