Thursday, April 29, 2010

Preview of Chapter Seven.

“I’m telling you Reese, Cedric is here in Virginia. I don’t know where, but he’s here. I can feel it.” Kale tells me once we get home after school.

We’ve been together for three months now, for three months Kale’s been living with me. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I have a brother, a twin brother nonetheless.

“How do you know?” I ask. As soon as we started walking home he’s been saying this. “Have you seen him?”

“No. But I know he’s here! I can always tell when Cedric is around.”

“Except for that time he caught you playing with fire.” I pointed out.

Kale rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, “Yes, except for that time.”

“So maybe it’s nothing.” I take a water from the fridge, “Maybe you’re just freaking yourself out.”

“But I’m not. I’ve had this feeling for a few days now. I wasn’t sure at first, but since this morning I’m sure of it.”

I took another water out and threw it to Kale. I sighed, thinking it over. I’ve never seen Kale this wound up, and he’s never given me a reason not to believe him.

“Okay,” I take a seat on the couch, “so lets say Cedric was here, why would he choose now? I mean, after all these years, why choose now to find you?”

“God dammit,” He rolled his eyes again, “I don’t know! Perhaps he’s been busy, or he’s just remembered I’m still alive. Who really knows!”

Kale pinched the bridge of his nose, taking in slow breaths. If you looked really closely, every time he let out a breath a puff a steam came out of both his nose and mouth. I’ve never seen that happen before.

“All I know is,” He started again, “this feeling that I have is not a good one. If he’s here, it is not just to say hello and stay for tea.”

He’s never yelled before, or sound so raddled and angry. Something must be really wrong.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010


I hate this day. Okay I don't really hate it, I'm just greatly annoyed by it.

This is my take on "National" Smoke Weed Day:
Some loser, or a group of losers, in a basement decided one day to create a day where you can celebrate weed, or the munchies. I haven't decided which one yet. There is no reason to celebrate a substance that destroys your body. And yes, it does destroy your body. You are not made to handle that many chemicals, and your lungs aren't made to survive ANY kind of smoke. And to every stoner that says it's natural so it must be good for you, you're wrong. Not everything that's natural it good for you, some is deadly. I have friends that smoke, the majority of the students in my school smoke, and other times I can handle their drug talk. But today it was too much. I mean, a freshman girl showed up to class today stoned off her ass. Today is NOT a holiday, there is no reason to celebrate. Today should be a day of mourning.

Another thing that pisses me off that today is declared "National" Smoke Weed Day, it's making people forget what happened at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado eleven years ago.
Today is the anniversary of a tragedy that happened in our own state, and I didn't hear one person talk about it today, not even in the morning announcements.
It's been bypassed for a plant.
Granted, I was only five when Columbine happened. But I still understood what had happened and that some families were never going to see their children again. It was a major tragedy, all someone has to say is "Columbine" and people automatically know what they're referring to.

I just think 4/20 should be more about remembering Columbine than about a stupid plant that gives you a feeling of euphoria for a couple hours and then the munchies. But, that's just my opinion.

I pray for all the families affected by the Columbine shooting.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Sick Little Suicide.

This is a poem I wrote awhile ago for Poetry class.
It's quite depressing, and it's bad, but oh well. The stanza's that are only two lines are telling the story from a different point of view, I guess. I know, it's confusing. That's why it's in another color. It's really long. Sorry about that.

Anyway, enjoy! And feedback would be appreciated.

Sick Little Suicide –
That's the song that's going to play.

He's planned this for months,
Looking over it again, and again –
Making sure everything was perfect,
That everything would work.

The song playing over and over again.
The lyrics swimming through his house.

His mind has been living in an abyss –
He hasn't felt the warmth of happiness,
The security of love,
Since he was a little boy.

When his parents return home and hear the song,
They'll wonder why it's suddenly so cold.

The bite of the blade –
The warmth of the steel,
Has kept him alive so far.
But now life is becoming too much.

The stillness of the house will scare them –
The lyrics ringing through their ears like a bad pop song.

His friend's sudden abandonment,
The jokes and pranks –
All the names and rumors,
Paved the way towards his downfall.

After a weekend away,
That is what they'll come home to.

He knew it was his fault.
His messed up brain, his intense mood swings –
It all pushed everyone away.
Now they all say he's crazy.

But of course, they won't put two and two together.
They won't think the song and stillness mean the same thing.

Now he doesn't expect to be missed.
He's rejected by everyone –
Like the one rotten piece of fruit,
Everyone has just thrown him away.

They'll think everything is fine –
Their son is just listening to a song on max volume.

He's talked to people who have attempted suicide.
Some say they're thankful they survived,
Others have tried again many, many more times.
Nothing can change his mind.

When they go upstairs to check on him,
Then they'll see what has really become of their son.

He's imagined his parent's reaction,
Even dreamed about it,
But they've always ended the same.
They never even shed a tear of remorse.

They'll see their beloved son,
His soul long since gone from this Earth.

Always their faces were as cold as stone,
Their eyes glazing over from shock,
Like fog clouding a window –
But never any screams of loss for their song.

They'll be frozen in place.
Both from the chill of the house, and the sight of their son.

His plan has always been the same.
Always the same date,
Always the same song,
And always the same way to die.

Then his mother would scream –
Loud enough that it pierces all of the homes in their neighborhood.

The sun sneaks through the windows,
Warming the frozen floorboards.
It's a beautiful day out –
Despite his plan to end it all.

They don't know what to do,
There's so much blood.

He plans to hang himself,
After letting his tainted blood run.
A slow and painful mixture of both.
Making sure he gets what he deserves.

Should they cut him down first?
Or stop the bleeding?

He hangs the rope, grabs the blades –
Puts the song on repeat, loud enough for all to hear –

They move fast.
Cut him down, stop the bleeding, and call an ambulance.

The rope hangs inside the closet –
On a beam high enough to silence the breathing.
He steps onto the small step ladder, razors in hand –
He slips the makeshift noose around his neck.

He's so cold.
His skin almost as translucent as fish scales.

He takes one last look as his life –
He wants to so this.
He opens his skin, letting his veins breath.
The blood makes the razor slip from his fingers.

Someone could think he was sleeping soundly.
Until they noticed how still he actually was.

One last breathe.
His warm blood drips to the floor –
In two small, crimson puddles.
1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . JUMP!

The purple ring around his neck –
It was so dark and solid compared to his skin.

He heard his neck give a loud pop –
His breathe trapped in his throat.
He began to panic.
His hands frantically clawed at the rope.

His mother held him as she fell to the floor.
She didn't notice the blood under her.

This was stupid, he thought.
He could get over his troubles –
Ignore everything said about him.
He wanted to live.

His father fell next to them.
They let their tears fall on their son's still face.

Blood smeared on his neck, face, and shirt.
His vision started to blur –
The sound escaping from his ears.
He struggled to breathe as everything went black.

Their sobs drowned out by that song –
Forever ringing in their ears.

Two things he couldn't of planned,
The beam breaking –
And his parents returning home early.
They walked through the door just as he made a loud thud.

That's what could have happened –
If his plan wasn't ruined.

They run into his room –
His mother starts to cry and fell to his side.
His mother rips off the makeshift noose,
While his father calls an ambulance.

If he never would have panicked –
The beam would never have broken.

His father wraps scattered clothing on his son's wrists.
His mother tries to get him to breathe.
There is still a chance to save him –
The faint beating of his pulse hidden under his skin.

If his parents weren't worried about him –
They would never have come home early.

With the sudden realization of the open airways,
His eyes snap open –
His lungs begging for air.
His numb hands clawing all around him.

The things he couldn't control, he didn't plan –
Saved his life.

Taking short, hoarse breathes –
Unable to get the amount of air he needs –
He scoots through his own blood,
And backs into the back of his closet.

Chance had changed his plans –
While Fear changed his mind.

Still thinking he was suffocating –
He clamored for air, and grasped his neck.
His mother tried to calm him down –
But he still couldn't hear.

He knows now that life is worth living –
That everything should be okay.

The loss of blood made him dizzy.
The sight of his own blood, smeared on the floor –
Made him sick.
Taking more short, hoarse breathes, he slips into unconsciousness.

There are times when he wants to try again –
But then he remembers what death was like.

A scar now decorated his neck and arms.
The smooth, beautiful skin destroyed by the ugly tattoos.
But they're beautiful to him, a beautiful reminder –
That life doesn't stay bad for long.

Monday, April 12, 2010


I feel like I've been ranting a lot lately.
That makes me feel like a cynic. I mean, I am. But I don't have to be one ALL THE TIME.

Only part of the time.

In other news. . .
I turned in my art project for the art show today!
Although, I think I'm the only one excited about this. When I told my mom she didn't seem very happy or excited. Ah well.

Oh, the picture is of Simon (I think) from Lord of The Flies. I love that book, even though it was assigned to us.

Wow, this is really short. It's not even worth reading, really.

I'll have something better up later. Promise.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Snow Day.

On Wednesday we had a snow day, and of course I was happy sense we didn't have to go to school, but we BARELY had any snow that day.
We've had more snow on previous days when we NEEDED a snow day for like, two days, but no. We get rewarded with one when we get not even a foot of snow and by the end of the day it was bright and sunny.

I bet the administration felt smart.

Anyway, that wasn't the problem.
Some idiot cut a wire in the town over and made my towns internet go down for the whole day. From 10 until at least 5 or 6. Okay so I may have exaggerated, but you get the point. I was VERY bored without my internet. And when I get bored, I start thinking up some pretty crazy shit. And I did that for awhile, but I resolved it.

But good things came from lack of interwebz too.
Like one of my friends, Kym, or KymSaysHello on Twitter, started writing a story during that time.
So she said over Twitter something like, "When the net is back up, I might ask @DarbeeBear to read it :3"
I felt quite happy that she thought my word was good enough in her mind to be one of the first people to read her story, which is actually quite good. Awesome, actually.

So, once the internet came back on and she sent it to me, I spent most of my time reading that. And fighting with a stupid Justin Bieber fan from Australia. But that's besides the point.

I realize I rant a lot. I should probably change that.

Sunday, April 4, 2010


Instead of reading some rant about Easter Sunday and my (too long) Church gathering, here is a preview of Rhyland and Oliver's short story (thing). Hope you like it, I'm REALLY enjoying writing about them at the moment.

I looked down at my brothers sleeping face. He always looked angelic when he slept; maybe it is the way his skin seems to glow. What a stupid thing for me to say, of course he looks angelic. He’s an angel after all. Not the kind of angels that you read about in that book, the Bible. Those kinds of angels are fake, made-up, a myth. How those people make angels seem Holy, good-natured, with not a bad bone in their bodies. Oh, and those stupid halo’s. Real angels aren’t that nice. Truth is, angels didn’t live to follow some guy human’s named God. How angels really were looked more like the Greek Gods than anything in that Bible. There are High Angels, Lesser Angels, Guardians, Dyers, then at the WAY bottom of the line are the Thrown.

That’s what I am, and my brother Oliver.

Just one thing before I go. . .

Happy Jesus Christ Turning Into A Zombie Day!

Friday, April 2, 2010


My Fashion Design teacher has some serious issues.

In my opinion at least.

She gave us an assignment to do over Spring Break (lame right?), and somehow we got into a discussion about the reasons why guys sag their pants. Seeing as how we don’t have a male IN our class, we couldn’t just as him. Some girls said that they think it’s “disgusting” whenever a guy sags. Personally, I think it’s attractive if done a certain way. Just saying. Now, something about my teacher, lets call her Mrs. Crazybitch, always makes have an attitude towards her. Which never happens with any teacher. We push each others buttons basically. Wanting to speak my opinion, I said how I think sagging is kind of comfortable. Unlike some of the other girls in my class, who wear pink and skirts, I’ve sagged on more than one occasion so I felt like I had more insight on the subject. Mrs. Crazybitch didn’t really like that. She tried so hard to turn the subject back into a negative, and she gave a rude look for saying that it’s comfortable. People these days… -_____-

Maybe just as one final push on Mrs. Crazybitch’s big button I’ll dress as a guy one day, and sag my jeans below my ass. Seeing as how she doesn’t like it very well. Hm.

Teachers, especially Mrs. Crazybitch, suck.


It’s against Dorchadas Laws to be with a vampire. Forbidden, actually. But when your Court is living in a forest surrounding a vampire House, it’s hard not to notice them. For me at least. It seems pretty easy for the other members of the Dorchadas Court; they can ignore the vampires with ease. Especially my mother, the Dorchadas Queen. Until yesterday, that is.

The new Head of House has been chosen for New York. Because we faeries are living in the forest on “vampire land” the Dorchadas Queen, King, and children (me) are supposed to go to the House to have a meeting with the new Head of House. There, although I’m never allowed in the meetings, we try to set some common ground, keep the peace with the vampires. I’m always excited to see the new vampire boss and especially if he has any children of his own.

My mother would be put to shame if she ever heard me talk like that.

Excited about meeting a vampire?” She would say, “Befriending a vampire? That is not how my daughter should be talking!”

But I can’t help it. I’m different than her. I’m different than everyone in the Dorchadas Court. I’m the odd one out. It’s just the way I am.

The Dorchadas Court is the oddball court in the first place. Other Faeries are the offspring of Angels and Demons. Dorchadas Faeries however are the offspring of Demons and Dyers. Other names for them are Fallen Angels, Angels of Death, Black Angels, and many more. But all Dyers are considered evil or dark because of how they obtain their Angelic status. Other Faeries are light, brightly colored clothing and hair; their skin always seems to glow.

Dorchadas Faeries are dark. Our hair is a dark color, our eyes black, our clothing black or gray, and our skin is as white as death. Except for me, that is. I am full-blooded Dorchadas, but I’m not normal.


There is one MAJOR part about being a Junior in high school that sucks the most.

The ACT's.

And mine are coming up soon. Tests are definitely not my best thing in school. Okay well, school isn't my best thing ever. And considering how important the ACT's are, I'm the most nervous I've ever been for a test. Granted, it's in late April, but time flies. Especially when you zone out in class and escape into the depths of your mind, like me. The only parts I'm worried about are the math and science parts, those are ALWAYS my lowest scores for the state test we had to take every year. I fail miserably at math. The reading a english parts are always my best.