I'm Not Dead

Yet.

The Truth

There is a novel. It is the greatest thing ever. I wrote it. To do so, I let some blogging duties slide.

The above sentence takes place in the future. Get it?

Han's Crime Revisited

I really did love him. Once. I still do, somewhere in my soul. Yet, I couldn't stay with him. Not after what I'd done. How he felt... I deserved that. I wish he had loved me as I loved - love - him. I couldn't expect that, though. He did more than could be expected of him.

We had met in the Month of the Lotus, and the courtship was brief. We had both loved each other then, and by the Month of the Orchid, we were engaged. Our marriage would be the happiest event for us both, and so we planned the wedding for the first day of the Good Month.

My cousin helped me put my affairs in order before I left my family to join a new one. I didn’t need the help as I had little to do, but having a companion with me as I worked was comforting. He had always been so good to me. He had always been so kind. At the end of the Month of Chrysanthemums, we had completed the work, and he was leaving to let me prepare for the wedding. As I always had, I walked him down the winding path until it met the road. Alone in the darkness, we said the customary farewells, but rather than leave, he took my hand and pulled me close. As we kissed, I forgot my fiancé. I forgot everything. There was only us.

We didn’t speak after that. We had erred, and we couldn’t risk doing so again. He left to the mountains, and I to my new husband. I knew I was pregnant in the days following our wedding. I fear my mother knew before we were married. She always knew when someone was with child. My husband, though, didn’t know until my sicknesses woke him every day. I could see in his eyes he knew something was wrong. Every morning I was violently ill, and every morning I wished to retch so badly that I would miscarry. I wished that I could be free of the burden growing in me. I wished for my husband to see my guilt and beat me. I wished for some punishment to absolve me. None came.

At the dawn of the Month of the Lotus, the anniversary of meeting my husband, the baby was born. She was beautiful, but at the same time hideous. I felt a deep loathing for this despicable leech I held in my arms. As my husband grew more distant, it was my only companion. It screamed at me to care for it, and offered no thanks. I couldn’t bear it. So, I put a stop to it. As it was feeding, I drew it close. Its gentle suckling turned to struggling as it tried to push away and find air. I smiled as it grew limp. Something in my mind told me this would make everything better.

Nothing changed. We told everyone that our premature daughter died suddenly in the night. We feigned mourning. All the while, I tried to win back my husband’s heart as he turned inward to find God. I realized my task was futile, and couldn’t bear it. One night, we had fought longer than usual. Neither of us slept. The fight made up my mind for me. I couldn’t live with what I’d done.

That night, we performed. My husband was tired, and he threw his knives badly. As he threw at my neck, I saw my chance. The first blade splintered the wood inches to my right. The second was to fly to my left. I saw his hand rise, and I heard his yell. I twitched slightly, and that was all it took.

As the life oozed from my neck and the crowd gasped, I smiled. Death had come take me. Any hell would be better than the one I made for myself. I went willingly to a damnation in my heaven.

A Failure at Translation

Julia smiled as she saw the picture of the German ambassador with his daughter. "Ist sie Ihr eigenes Kind?"

The ambassador looked highly offended. Oh, no! What did I say? Julia wailed mentally. She quickly thought through what she had said, and gasped. "Nein, nein! Das ist nicht, was ich bedeutet habe!" she tried to reassure him, but he still seemed angry. "Ich wollte sagen, 'Ist sie Ihr Einzelkind?' Das tut mir sehr, sehr Leid!"

The ambassador laughed. "Forgiven. It is a common mistake. Might I suggest brushing up on your German?"

Julia blushed. "Yeah. I'm so sorry! I wanted to impress you by speaking your language, but it didn't exactly work," she laughed apologetically.

"Enough," he replied with a smile. "Now, shall we discuss what we came here to discuss?"

"Yes, sir," she said gratefully, and tried not to think about her embarrassing mistake.
Experience is a brutal teacher. But you learn--my God, do you learn--C.S. Lewis.

Twelve Hours

Twelve hours

At best.


The doctors had

Never

Seen it spread so far.




Twelve hours.


Enough time to

Say goodbye.




Twelve hours.


Enough time to

Write my will.




Twelve hours.


Enough time to

Crawl into a corner


And die.



Twelve hours.

Universe

"We don't belong there."

"So?"

"These aren't the right people."

"It doesn't matter now. Deal with it."

"Sir, I'm trying. It's not easy."

"It never is. How do you think I got here?"

"I understand sir, the odds were against you."

"Our situation was hopeless. It wasn't all me, but I kept pushing through it all with everyone else. Look what happened."

"It is remarkable."

"Indeed it is Colonel. There is no perfect situation, it only gets worse. We'll do what we can to help, but you're on your own."

"Thank you sir. I'll see you in a few weeks."

"Let's hope you last that long. You have permission to depart, good luck, and Godspeed."

"Yes sir!"

Godhood

The Muse was Dead.
The Spirits wept.
Her Soul to Earth was Lost.
A new Muse came
In Humans born
Humanity their cost.

The Hosts of
Creativity
Lost shielding naivete
Their thoughts profound
Pierced shielding Dark-
Found Truth that Men reject.

These god-men of
The Muse possessed
Went mad with joy and Grief.
The holy Art
Of building Life
To owner's Life turns thief.

Go

I woke at dawn and knew at once
I'd have the perfect day.
To start, I rode my bike to town
In warm first light of May.

I stopped first at the petrol stand
And filled a can of fuel,
And while it filled I called my boss
And said I thought him cruel.

I told him how each day at work
I felt like I would die.
When at its end I still had breath
I almost had to try

To still the urge to cut my wrist
And let the blood flow free.
My three weeks' notice given then
"You're not the boss of me."

I cut the line and rode back home
And took the gas inside.
When late that night the smoke had cleared,
They thought that I had died.

I didn't hear for many weeks
For I had pedaled far.
I knew not if the field I walked
Was of earth, moon, or star.

A brilliant storm of warming flakes
Came as the winter's snow.
The summer's rain soon followed that
With droplet's shining glow.

Each night I lay in open field
And gaze on studded sky,
And wonder what had ever caused
Me all those years to try.

God bless the day I burnt each bridge
Left ev'rything behind.
I left to worlds of clearer views
From worldlets of the blind.

Apocalypsed Venonat

Here is a Venonat, doing what Venonat do best. Dying. They are pretty pointless. I'm trying to work on backgrounds. Here is a picture of an unapocalypsed Venonat.

Torn

The silent stars gaze
On the trembling form
Of a lost little girl
Who no longer feels warm
In the hold of a life
Not turned all around,
Where up is still up
And down is still down.
She holds in her hands
A raggedy page
Spotted with tears
And wrinkled with age.
The drawing, her hopes,
The little girl's world
Have vainly been writ,
All her secrets unfurled.
The worldlet here drawn
By child's worn crayon
Shows the girl holding hands
With a woman and man.
The characters faces
All chuckle and grin
While above the sun's light
Reveals not a sin.
But-lo! what a sight
What a dark jagged tear
Rips from morning star's light
To the little girls hair.
The page rent in twain,
The parents unbound
Stand lonesomely sole
But the girl is not found.
For in the division
Of man and his wife
The child in pieces
Has lost all her life.
The trembling form
With the page in her grasp
Takes a painful and slow
Steadying shuddered gasp
As she lays the two down
She takes out her small set
Of art supplies gotten
Instead of a pet.
She sets to her task
Choking back quaking sob,
But finds when she's done
That her work is macabre.
Three slender taped lines
Run across hallowed dream.
She wishes it whole,
Yet still runs the seam
Across all she e'er knew,
Across all their lies.
The two can't become one,
And tears fill her eyes.
She weeps for her family,
She cries and she cries.
She'll struggle tomorrow,
For this night she dies.

Starshine

From depths of death to life above
The ancient scourge returned
To steal the precious light for which
Its shadowed spirit yearned.

The night it rose, the waxing moon
Shone brightly in the sky.
The fiend reached forth, the moonlight dimmed
And vanished from the eye.

The silent stars within their slots
Shook, fearing for their light.
Then, one by one estinguishèd,
They gave way to the night

As black as pitch, the dark so thick
As to possess a weight,
A substance daemoniacal
A grim foreboding fate.

The Shadowed Dead - the darkened stars -
Lie lost apart, alone.
The world in wonder sheds its tears;
The Darkness takes its throne.

???

I'm not sure what you'll think about this, it's a little out there.

Collision

No warning.

The night breathed peace.

Shattered.

Lights flared over the hill.

Grew.

With a scream, the forms collided.

Silence.

We gathered around the wreck.

Uncomprehending.

Our shoes soaked in a puddle.

Blood.

Someone found the baby.

Howling.

Every phone called for help.

Please.

A whisper came from the overturned vehicle.

Horrified.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault."

Sobs.

I bent to console her.

Lying.

I spoke, but we both heard something else.

Truth.

"It's my fault. I killed her."

Them.

The couple had been beautiful.

Dead.

We tried to console her.

Tried.

She was chained to truth.

Forever.

Delicious

What is the illustration this week? Well it is some extraordinarily delicious...

ROASTED MAGIKARP! Yum, doesn't that just look appetizing? I am really hungry now, wow, that is just so appealing that I kinda want to vomit. I really want some Magikarp now...yeah, not sure why anyone would eat one of those. Ew.

Until Creativity Resumes

I hoped you were, you felt I was,
But both of us were not.
We tried and failed and left for dead
The once proud totem Thought.

The statue shattered - fragmented -
By cold unfeeling Life
Melts, streams through mud, and poisons seas
To make our water strife.

So drink we an intoxined brew
And madly prance in throes
Of agony and bitter joy
And slow eternal woes.

Of Fancy Feast and Younger Brothers

I stared at my five-year-old younger brother, trying to figure out why he was eating Smoky's Fancy Feast (Smoky was our cat), and crying--or, at least, trying to make himself cry. "Ben, what are you doing?" I asked cautiously.

"Trying to make Smoky come here! I don't know where she went, and I want to play!"

What the... "How is eating her food going to make her come here?"

"That's what Homer said last night!"

"Homer who? Simpson? Ben, why were you watching The Simpsons?" I inwardly squirmed at the thought of what my parents would say if they knew he was watching that.

"I just turned the TV on, and he was there. But then I changed the channel," Ben explained with the patience of a parent explaining something to a child. I smiled as that image came to mind. "Don't laugh at me!"

I quickly composed my face. "I'm not laughing at you, Ben; don't worry. But what did Homer say?"

"He said that eating a bunch of dog food and crying would make their dog come back, 'cause he ran away. I wanted to play with Smoky, so I'm eating her food and crying."

I sighed, and tried desperately not to laugh. "Ben, he wasn't really saying that eating pet food was a good idea. He was just explaining to his kids that they should go look for their dog."

"Oh." Ben looked at the can of Fancy Feast in his hand, and ran to the sink, spitting out the cat food. "Icky! Why didn't you tell me I didn't have to eat cat food?"

"I didn't know you were planning on it," I laughed. "Come on, let's brush your teeth to get the fish flavor out, okay?"

"Okay."

I rolled my eyes. Life lessons from The Simpsons... brilliant...

Well, crying isn't gonna bring him back... unless your tears smell like dog food. So you can either sit there eating can after can of dog food until your tears smell enough like dog food to make your dog come back, or you can go out there and find your dog--Homer Simpson.

Moonlight

This is my world.

Imperfect
But whole.



It's flawless

In its flaws.





The moon is
Bright.


The stars are
Life.




So what if I
Turn.




What's a little


Lycanthropy?




I wouldn't trade

Anything

For the world.

New Story Series

I'm writing a new set of random stories, based on various quotes I've heard and liked. Just wanted to explain the new label. It's still a Friday's Feature, of course.




Um... that's it. Short post.

Green's Charmander

So I altered Charmander a little to make it look less healthy, due to Green's harsh treatment on him. I made it skinnier, lightened it's skin tone significantly, and lessened it's flame, which is basically a measure of it's health. Tell me what you think, I love criticism!

Conversations With Myself Part 3

"I told you. Now isn't the right time."

"It should happen sooner rather than later."

"Why? Things aren't all that bad right now. This could really ruin it."

"We've got all our assets together. There won't be another opportunity like this for a while."

"I've got other concerns at the moment. I can wait."

"You've been planning this for a while, are you just going to let it go?"

"For now, yes. I've got more important things to worry about and I'm also a little concerned about going through with this."

"It was your idea."

"Yours too."

"Fair enough. What's with the second thoughts?"

"I just don't know how much of it will actually be false. What if this ruins everything we've so carefully built? Is it really worth it?"

"There's only one way to find out."

"I'm not so sure about this..."

Pokémon: The Golden Apocalypse, Chapter Twenty-One

High above Viridian, a strong wind blew eastward. The clouds of smoke from the mountains drifted ominously across the peaks and began to settle in a dense blanket over the city. Flecks of ash preceded the mass in a downward spiral to the ground. As the mass settled, it filled the depression in which the city sat, and wisps licked gently over the brim of the cliffs. The parching fog slowly grew moist with condensing water, until it became a dense mist, obscuring anything an arm's length away. 

It was into this world of spirits that Red woke. When first he opened his eyes, he thought himself still dreaming. There was nothing to see but an ashy gray veil, within which no shadows moved. His groggy mind refused to function, and so he sat waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he sighed, and shifted to sit up.

Every muscle in his body protested the movement. Red found himself suddenly fully awake, and gasped. He coughed at the unexpected moistness of the air, and began to take stock of his situation. His clothes were glued to his body by moisture, and his hair was flat against his scalp. The ledge he sat on was nearly obscured by the foggy air, and nothing else was visible. He began to feel his way around the ledge, and his hand brushed against a sodden piece of fabric. He pulled it closer, and raised it nearly to his face so he could see it. 

The wretched scrap was what remained of his pack. The bottom had been torn out completely, and every pocket was exposed. Nothing remained inside, and the thing couldn't be trusted to ever hold anything again. Sighing, Red cast it aside into the white void. He began to feel around again, crawling slowly around the ledge. Once or twice his fingers brushed against nothing but air, indicating the edges of Red's worldlet. He slowly maneuvered about, and soon found the cliff face before him. He felt about it for a bit, until his hand fell on something cool and more moist than the surrounding air. He recoiled instinctively, before crawling close enough to see it, hoping it wasn't something interested in biting his nose off.

It was Nyoromo. The little creature was slumbering peacefully under its own little outcrop. Red lifted the creature gently, and moved to place it inside the pack that wasn't there. He stopped halfway, realizing his mistake. He set the little pokémon down inside its chamber again, and crawled off in search of his broken pack, trying to keep a sense of direction so he wouldn't need to search for the pokémon again. 

He felt about the entire ledge without any success until he came to the edge. Somehow, the pack had become snagged on a small rocky spur jutting from the main body of the outcropping. Red lifted it gently, feeling the spur crumble away as the pack brushed by it again. Gripping the pack tightly, Red crawled back to Nyoromo.

He at once set to the work of making something usable from the ruined bag. Tearing the water-weakened fabric with his teeth, he assembled an assortment of scraps from what was left of the inner pockets. Here he stopped, realizing he had nothing with which to sew them back on. He stared at the bag unhappily, as wisps of fog drifted across his vision. Suddenly struck with inspiration, he tore off a strap that was already hanging loose. Using a tight knot he had learned from the fishermen in Pallet Harbor, he closed the bottom of the pack. He checked the knot by pushing at the bottom from within. It refused to give, and so satisfied Red placed Nyoromo in the bag, along with the scraps he had accumulated. As he did so, he suddenly recalled the events of the previous evening.

He had been chased from the mountains by those horrific apes. They had pursued him up the cliff. Nyoromo had fallen to the ledge below, and Red fell soon after. The next thing he knew was this ethereal world without substance. What happened? The beasts wouldn't have abandoned an easy kill. Red had been unconscious, and he knew Nyoromo couldn't put up a fight. As if to accent this thought, a bubble drifted lazily from the open pack on his lap. The only reason for them to leave would be if something more dangerous had scared them off. But if that happened, the other thing would have still killed them.

Red looked off into the mists, almost as if to divine the answer. Suddenly a shadow materialized in the air, squawking as it flew towards him.

A Dream

The hole was still there, and this time there was no line of fire keeping me from the log. The ground was still treacherous, but that's what the fallen trees were for. I swung across gaps on low-hanging branches, and alighted gracefully on the gently rotting wood. I turned towards the hole, and he was standing there. He smiled mischievously, and leapt forward into the void. I hurried after him.
The tunnel was long, but we never picked up much speed. I lost sight of him ahead of me, and only the dirt of the walls was visible. Soon, a bluish light began to infuse the air. The tunnel sloped gently beneath me, and I soon was riding down a slide. Then I hit the first wall of water. It was cold. It was wet. It was shocking. I didn't mind it. The second curtain was more disconcerting, for past it the slide vanished and I fell again. This time, though, there were no walls to mark my descent. I had an impression of vastness; the expanse was incomprehensible. I saw a glimmer beneath my feet, and then I hit the surface of a great ocean at an impossible speed.
I hadn't taken a breath, and my lungs started to scream for air. I told them to wait, but they didn't listen. I began to struggle, even as I was pulled down by a great force. Suddenly, I felt a wingtip brush my cheek, and I turned my head. He floated downwards with me, and I no longer felt scared. He reached out with one hand and placed it on my cheek.
"Breathe." I took a breath slowly, and found the water did nothing to impede me. I smiled back at hime, and together we spiraled down through the water to the palace where the obese demons impale their own eyes with forks.

But a Test

Still a Test

Sprites

I combined lapras and arbok. The belly color of the lapras body was hard to put onto the arbok head.

Elementary, My Dear Chloride, Part II

"I'm poisonous, Sodium. I'm no good for anyone."

With that sentence, Sodium knew he had met his soul mate. "Don't you see, Chlorine, I'm poisonous, too!" He half-smiled. "And hey, if I'm gonna combine with an element, I sure don't want to screw up another gas's life. It wouldn't be noble, right?"

Chlorine smiled through her tears. "I suppose..."

"Step closer. Let's make an octet."

So the two elements stepped toward each other, but neither of them was prepared for the magnitude of the reaction. The sparks flew immediately, and the two became one: NaCl.

"We're compatible. More than I would've imagined," Chloride (for that was now her name) smiled in surprise.

"Of course we are. We were made for each other."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Elementary, my dear Chloride. Together, we were incomplete and dangerous. But now," Sodium smiled blissfully, "we sustain life. We complete each other."

Reogan

You've been here.

Always.



I always knew you.



I always

Loved you.



I've given you all

I can.



I've given you

Everything.




If you want



To kill me






Do it.








I don't care.


Just-



Just don't let them
Take you.






You're all I have.









I love you.











I'm scared.

Sprites

I didn't have time to do anything really complex, but here is a evilish Pachurisu, and a fire leafeon, which has an odd name now that I think about it. The picture quality of blogger affected the second one more than any of my other sprites, so that is why it looks a little odd. Oh yeah, here is what a really cool sprite looks like, I didn't make this, but I dream of doing something like this one day. This is from http://www.pokemontopaz.net/sprites/, it is amazing.

Conversations With Myself Part 2

"Is this a competition?"

"Sort of..."

"Does it involve quantity."

"That's half of it."

"Quality?"

"That's the other half."

"What is this really all about then? Ego?"

"In a way. Arrogance and pride are the leading contributors."

"This doesn't bode well."

"It's a careful balance; we'll see how long the peace lasts."

"Yes we will..."

Pokémon: The Golden Apocalypse, Second Interlude

The forest afforded no mercy.
At first, families stayed together, and those students who had come alone clustered with their peers. We were a large group. We didn't need to fear the Forest. Not as long as we stayed together. We thought we could survive. We couldn't.
The young and fit were the first to go. At the front of the crowd, they stumbled into the webs. Almost before the first cries for help reached our ears, the first screams came from those the caterpie reached first. Once small and tame, the larvae had grown long and vicious. They devoured flesh at a pace only an insect could sustain. Students with fire pokémon hurried to save them. They succeeded.
Mostly.
The webs burned too well. Many escaped with few burns, but some suffered. Most survived. A young, handsome man had been charred beyond recognition, and we witnessed only his dying breaths. His friend, somewhat of a scholar on the forest, was never found. Back home, we had buried bodies. We had respected them.
We left it.
We kept a vigil then, with students guiding us and guarding the sides. Their pokémon should have kept us safe. There was nowhere else for danger to come from, we thought.
We were wrong.
They came from between roots and down from branches. They were in the logs around us. As we walked, they silently emerged and struck. Poison spiked pierced through clothing, shoes, and flesh. The students did what they could, but by the time the weedle were sent running, ten score had been felled. They twitched with their brains' spasms as they gasped on the ground like magikarp out of water. Then, one by one, they stiffened and died.
We moved on.
As night fell, we made camp. The bugs were primarily diurnal, and we needed our rest. We slept, all at once, and prayed that we would survive the night. It was dark. We were cold. We were lost. We were alone.

We were scared.

Sprite

Here is another sprite.