DR: Daniel's Teaser

Disclaimer: Characters, etc. belong to me. This is narrated to Daniel's POV and slight spoilers are contained, as it takes place AFTER Dark Redemption.

To clarify things. First, I never wanted to save the world. All I wanted was to make things better for those I care about. My family, my friends, even those kids at the Academy who pick on other students.

Second point of clarification. I never once dreamed we'd be in so much danger. It was a harmless simulation, designed to pass away the hours of the afternoon and procrastinate on a pile of homework from Ms. Turner's AP biology class. Maybe if I'd known we were going to almost be killed like that, I wouldn't have dragged Bridget along.

But what does one do when thrust into a situation where the fate of the world is at stake? What if you simply cannot do anything to make things better? At that point, do your choices even matter anymore? Contrary to popular belief, perhaps questions have no easy answers. Maybe the right answer is different from person to person and dependent on the situation.

Yet then again, maybe not. From the very beginning (even though I never read the books written by Ms. Adams), I knew that Synistra had to be evil and we, as the heroes, had to be the good guys. I have always known that the good guys have to win in the end, but when I was younger, I didn't understand why CJ was so hesitant. I think I do know why now; my time in Almendrim has taught me that evil never goes down without a fight. The good guys still win in the end, but it's never easy.

And maybe that's why I did what I did. I chose to do what was necessary to help the good guys defeat the evil guys in the end and no choice comes without sacrifice.

The Angel (a poem)

This is just a poem I wrote this afternoon. I see no need to comment on the content. Too bad our poem for class is not a free poem; if it was, I would probably use this. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it.

The Angel

Torn in two and scattered
across the empty room
Broken pieces, abandoned
Because nobody cares.

Scenes of a struggle,
Fighting between friends.
Only sound made by
the ticking of the clock.

A tall girl slumped
against the far wall hides
her tear-stained face
from prying people.

A picture of an angel,
white wings spread wide,
ready to fly, to soar,
lies broken on the floor.

Friendship ripped to shreds is
an angel torn in two,
lying there, broken because
nobody picks up the pieces.

The White Knight, draft 1

The White Knight

He launches himself over his allies,
Darts crookedly across the field
Surrounded by enemies, he retreats.

He calls out for assistance,
Now joined by a hooded man.
They launch their counter-assault.

Battle rages on and in the
End, few are left standing.
Black retaliates. White retreats.

King is protected by only his castle.
White makes his move, capturing
Black’s last competent defense.

Knight to f6. Check. Fails
to see the smallest soldier, who
Knifes him. He is killed.

The sacrifice is not in vain.
Cloaked figure to f5. King falls.
Checkmate. White wins.

Draft one of a poem due today for Creative Writing. I thought you might enjoy it...

Object Poem: Draft One

We had to write a poem for an English class I am taking this semester and here is my first draft... I kind of like it, actually. The assignment was to write about an object and how it relates to yourself, so I chose my glasses. It was kind of amusing, seeing as how a few days ago, I lost them and I had to spend a day without them, which proved to be more difficult than I thought it would be.

I may or may not be updating this with changes, so we'll see how the editing process goes and I'll see what people have to say about it. There are a few people that I'd like to get critiques from before I do too much editing... but you can read it. Hope you enjoy!

Pieces of glass
surrounded by metal
fit firmly around my face.
They have become
attached, forever a part of
me.

Without them, I
cannot see the world
so clearly. The
light filters through
the optics and I can see.

This piece of metal,
plastic and glass changes
my vision.
Lines are no longer blurry
and colours are no longer
spots. With one addition,
I feel human
again.

I do hope you enjoyed this and I also apologise for not posting in quite awhile. I've been busy with classes and hopefully with this English class I'm taking, I'll actually be writing stuff worth posting and posting it.

Elisha's Staff

Just a little piece about Elisha that I had a bit of fun writing. I hope you enjoy it and have a very merry Christmas!~

CRACK! As I held the handle of my katana, the blade snapped in two. Fear raced through my body and every muscle in my body tensed up all at once. Both my hands started shaking and I could feel all the colour drain from my face as I stared at the Nwalmiel. All my energy left my body and I felt sick, like I was going to throw up. With no strength left, I dropped to my hands and knees, what was left of my sword clattering to the stone ground.

"Get up." A voice that I'd never heard before in my life came from above me and I could feel myself pulled into a standing position by a hand that was a good deal larger and stronger than mine. "Hand me the sword." Since it was dark, I couldn't get a good look at the man's face, but he was a good deal taller than I am. Not that being taller than I am is that difficult. I did as I was told and he held Jordan's katana in his hands for long moment. "This must be returned to its rightful owner."

I slipped my dark blue cloak over my shoulders and turned to leave the room, but Jordan's voice grabbed my attention before I could take more than a step and a half. "Take my sword," he said. "You need it more than I do and it'll help you remember everything you've been taught. Laika will serve you well." He placed the katana and its sheath in my hands, gave me a pat on my shoulder and then turned and walked out of the room.

He held a plain wooden staff in his own calloused hands, with what appeared to be some sort of binding around the center. "This is no ordinary staff," he said, handing it to me. It felt heavy in my hands for the first few moments I held it, but it gradually got lighter. "It may look like nothing special, but its abilities are tied to your willpower. Keep yourself strong and focused and your staff will serve you well." He paused for a moment and I could see a faint blue light radiating from the stick I held in my left hand. "Keep it with you at all times. The Enemy will try to take it from you, but you must not let that happen. Now," here, he put his hands on my shoulders, "go in peace, my child."

The girl nodded and handed my staff back to me. "The Master gave it to you, didn't he?" she asked, the same smile that was on her lips dancing in those blue eyes of hers. I nodded. "You'll learn how to use it and don't even think about letting it go." Her own hand dropped down to touch the hilt of her sword. "The Enemy won't be able to do much against a weapon like that." She reached out and gave me a hug. "We'll talk later, alright?"

With one hand in my pocket and the other hand holding my staff, I set out from the courtyard of the castle and into the surrounding forest. Although it is sad every time I must leave, I'm sure that I'll be back to see both her and the Master again. But now, I must complete the mission that was given to me.

Meeting Allison

The young bounty hunter crossed the room. It was rather crowded and he cared little for paying attention to the latest gossip, which Lin seemed to be the center of. Well, Lin and Naomi. Elisha's nose wrinkled slightly; he knew he would never understand the female mind and its need to speak incessently of all the latest happenings, including the arrival of a new informant for the Resistance.

"You ought to go greet her." Mark motioned to where Jordan was speaking to a small girl with short blonde hair. Or Elisha only assumed she was a girl by her unusually petite frame, but really, it was hard to tell from the fifty meters away that the two boys stood, just watching. "Eh, doesn't really matter one way or another. Looks like she's getting the royal treatment from Lin over there." A slight frown crossed Mark's face.

"Aye, maybe I should," Elisha answered, almost the exact same frown crossing his darker face. "Lin really needs to learn to treat newcomers with respect or there'll be no one left to help us." There was a slight pause and the grasp on his quarterstaff tightened until his knuckles were white. "And right now, we need all the good help we can get. There's no way Ran is going to let Lin go out and spy." Using the wooden stick for a bit of extra support, he half-limped to where Jordan was standing, talking to the new arrival. Mark followed partway in silence, then broke off to go talk to Ran.

As Elisha approached, Jordan turned around and nodded towards the shorter youth. "This is Allison, a new recruit," he held his hand out towards the girl. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go speak to Harcourt and Ran and I'll leave the two of you to get acquainted." Without waiting for Elisha to protest, Jordan turned around and let his long legs carry him effortlessly across the room.

The younger bounty hunter frowned to himself and winced slightly, still annoyed with himself for slipping down the riverbank when he, Naomi, Mark and Lin went out for a short excursion the week before. Another few days of limping around like this and then he knew he'd be back to normal before the end of the week, but the fourteen-year-old couldn't help feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prick up when he saw Lin and Mark sparring and he had to sit on the sidelines, just watching.

"What's your name, Darkie?" The girl looked up at him, meeting his dark hazel eyes with her own light brown ones. "I'm Allison, or that's what everyone calls me." She looked him over and he could feel a piercing stare. "You're not a very good fighter, are you?"

The very tips of Elisha's ears heated up and it felt like they were once again subjected to the hot desert summer afternoon. He had only been that far out of the town a few times, even though his ancestors were originally from the desert tribes to the east. "Why should I give you my name?" After a moment, Elisha met her piercing gaze with his own more subtle one. "You obviously haven't given me yours, at least not your real one."

"Then can I call you Darkie?" When Elisha shrugged, the girl perked up and bounced away, leaving the bounty hunter more confused than ever. By the time he turned around, Mark was standing behind him. The taller bounty hunter had picked up the habit of being able to sneak up quietly behind people; it especially annoyed Lin.

"You know I don't like giving out my name," Elisha's voice dropped down to a whisper. "To know another person's name is to hold power over them and it's not something I need to deal with right now, so don't even think about it."

Sigh. I really don't like how that piece turned out, but whatever. I think it would've been better (especially at the end) if it had been a first person narration to Elisha's POV. And just to let you know, "Darkie" is a rather derogative term used to refer to someone from the desert, but Elisha either doesn't know or doesn't care. Meh, I might as well let you read this...

Scene between Elisha and Mark

Okay, wow... it's been over a month and a half since I posted here and I thoroughly blame real life stuff for getting in the way of writing. As a side note, remember some of the characters I mentioned earlier in this post? A brief scene between some of them came to mind earlier today and I just thought I'd share it with you...

Elisha glanced around the room briefly before turning back to Mark. All around them, bounty hunters went on their way, to and from their respective assignments. The sixteen-year-old could easily pick Lin out from the crowd, as well as his sister and Allison, who were both over flirting with some of the boys their age. His lips drew into a frown and he made a note to himself to speak to Naomi about the danger of a man's thoughts later.

"Hey," Mark's voice, as usual, was quiet. "You were thinking 'bout something, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Elisha nodded after a moment. Figuring out how he was going to explain everything to Naomi would have to wait until later. "But honestly, it's Lin I'm more concerned about. She's been acting all... wierd... lately, ever since Jordan left." It had been about two months since one of the most respected bounty hunters had just disappeared, leaving his sword in the hands of Elisha. When the youth had asked his senior where he was going, Jordan simply replied that it was a quest for something he called Veritas and that someday, he'd understand as well. No one had really understood, least of all Elisha and even as he tried to explain it to Lin, the words had refused to come. Jordan had abandoned them.

Mark shrugged and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I wouldn't expect her to believe that Veritas even exists, you know what I mean?" His own dark eyes drifted over to where Lin was standing, obviously engaged in some sort of argument with Allison.

Elisha paused for a minute, then nodded. "Lin..." he sighed. "Lin's one of those people... she never believes anything that she can't see for herself. She's a good friend and more than a worthy adversary, but she doesn't stop to consider all the possibilities." There was a short pause as he turned to watch Allison flounce away in a huff and Lin smirk, turn the other direction and go about whatever business she had. Elisha didn't wonder for too long what had happened; he was pretty sure he'd hear all about it later, whether he wanted to or not. "Mark." The other youth looked over at Elisha. "Can I ask you a question?" When Mark nodded his approval, Elisha continued. "Do you believe in the existence of a spiritual realm?"

"Yes," the voice that replied was slow to speak. "I believe that I do." Mark removed his right hand from his pocket, revealing the time keeper that Elisha had loaned him earlier that month. "I guess you might call it blind faith 'cause I've never seen anything, but I've heard about it." There was a slight pause. "Remember that old story Ran told us once? The one about Echelon and how everyone banished him to the castle outside of town because they thought he was crazy?" Elisha nodded. "What Ran said makes me think that Echelon might not've been as crazy as they say. If he had actually seen Melekhiel, that would've explained a lot... and it would be a bit more reasonable, I think, to explain why Jordan left."

Elisha frowned slightly. "But you can't even feel it, can you?" At this point, I must pause and give a brief history lesson. In the beginning, there was a spiritual realm and there was a point when everyone could not only feel it, but experience it as one would savour the richness of a barbeque with friends and family on a warm summer afternoon. Over time, people began trying to explain everything and this ability to feel the supernatural was lost to all but a few who are known as the Shiniel, or in their language, the spirit-people.

Mark opened up the timekeeper. "Eh, it's the same thing as this," he answered. "I know that it works and it makes the work I do better and provides a logical explanation as to why I don't run late anymore." He closed the gadget back up and placed it in his pocket once again. "Now, Ran knows that I've always been late and now I'm not. What's the explanation he'll come up with?"

Elisha nodded. "I see," he replied. "Even though he doesn't know that you have my timekeeper, it's most likely he'll assume you've acquired one and learned how to use it properly. I suppose, in a sense, he has faith that you have a timekeeper."

"Maybe I am accepting this on faith, but you can't always know everything, eh?" Mark's gaze trailed off into the distance and for a long couple of minutes, he was staring out the window near the ceiling. "Even Jordan doesn't know everything and I'm pretty sure that's why he went to look for answers." Mark paused and shifted to a more comfortable position, now leaning up against the stone wall of the building. "I guess I can ask you the same thing."

"Sure," the other youth spoke. A quick glance flittered around the room and he turned his back towards the commotion. He lowered his voice to several notches quieter than what it normally was. "You already know that I am a Shiniel." There was a short pause and when Mark nodded, Elisha continued. "For me to deny the existence of a spiritual realm would be worse than Lin not believing in the existence of the physical." He sighed, turned back around so that he was only halfway facing Mark now. Out of the outermost reaches of his peripheral vision, he spotted Lin, who appeared to be arguing now with Ran. "I pity her. She really just doesn't get it, does she?" He forced a weak smile over at the taller youth, who shook his head. Elisha's hand reached down to touch the handle of his sword. "Perhaps it's for the better, then." Without waiting for a reply from Mark, he turned the rest of the way and began walking towards the door.

AN: Elisha and Mark live in a society and they're both bounty hunters. Lin is Elisha's partner and Naomi is Elisha's sister. Ran and Allison are also both part of the coalition of bounty hunters. Ran is a bit older than they are and Allison is a bit younger. She and Naomi are close friends. A bit more can be explained by reading my post about Echelon's Ring, which I linked for you up above.

Swim Lesson Blues: Megan's Fear

Just something I wrote this afternoon. I guess I'll be continuing it a bit more later, but right now, I need to go get ready to meet a friend and then work on a project for class...

"I won't let you drown." Those five words had been repeated to what Sophia thought was at least the hundredth time as she watched Megan clutch onto the edge of the swimming pool, the young girl's blue eyes wide with terror. The fifteen-year-old let out an inner sigh. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

When she'd first told Coach Abby that she'd be willing to help teach the younger kids how to swim, Sophia thought that she'd be working with the ones who could actually swim across the pool. She'd teach them how to dive and perfect their strokes enough so that they could join the regular swim team during the next season. But no. Instead of working with the older kids, she'd been shunted off to work with a four-year-old who wouldn't even put her face in the water, much less let go of the wall.

"Soapy!" The girl wailed. "I'm cold!" Despite the fact that she hated being called by this rather diminutive nickname, Sophia almost smiled when any of the little kids (many of whom could not make the f sound properly yet) addressed her by name. From across the pool, Sophia could hear Mei-ling praise her students. They were all supposed to be at the same level, but the kids that Mei-ling had were already doing backfloats with minimal support. Sophie scowled to herself. Go figure that she'd get stuck with the one girl in the entire swim program who was afraid of the water.

"You should move around, then," she answered. Truth was, standing here in the water that reached just above her midriff was getting boring and even she was starting to feel a bit chilled. For a moment, she was envious not only of Mei-ling, but also of James, who had been assigned to the diving class. Well, as a diver, he would have been naturally more suited to teach kids how to dive, but none of them were afraid of the water.

Thankfully, Sophia was saved by Coach Abby's whistle, signaling the end of the session. Still sobbing, Megan climbed out of the pool and her mom wrapped a fluffy towel that had a picture of the Disney princesses on it around her. With little to no effort, Sophia swam a rather sloppy version of freestyle over to the diving boards on the deep side of the pool, where all the other instructors had already gathered for a quick debriefing.

Before Abby could address the group, James swam over to where Sophia was treading water. "After Abby's done, I kinda need to talk to you." This comment was quiet enough so that even Mei-ling, who was chatting with Kaitlyn on the other side of Sophia couldn't hear. She nodded and then turned to wait for Abby's latest instructions.

tbc... this will definitely be getting more. I'm rather excited to see what James has to tell Sophia and how that will relate back to what she's been thinking about...

Return of Digit Island!~

Well, I'm thinking about resurrecting Digit Island yet again, albeit with some changes and some alterations to character histories so that they don't all know each other. <_<

Scene: An abandoned stone courtyard. The sun has gone down and there is a chill in the air. Two humanoid figures are facing one another. The taller one, clearly belonging to a male, is sitting and the shorter, standing a short distance away, hands on her hips.

"Are you sure these are the seven?" the female asked, her voice incredulously high, especially for her. "They look... weak."

The other figure spoke a few sharp words in his native tongue. "They are human, Tem," he replied, switching back over to common. "It is the will of the High Council that this be done and as part of your discipline-"

Before he could continue, the one addressed as Tem interrupted. "Yeah, yeah. I know," she narrowed her eyes. "I just don't think they'll be ready when the time comes. But don't say I didn't warn you."

The man stood up, taking some effort to push himself into a standing position. "Take the twins with you," he replied, his voice barely audible, even in the dead silence of the night. "They'll remind you not to lose faith in humanity... yet."

Enter Isaiah and Jeremiah Lewis, age 19.

"We're going to be late for classes!" Isaiah grabbed his bookbag and ran out the door, dragging his brother behind him. Today was the first day of classes at Veritas Academy and the older of the twins had his introduction to engineering class in less than five minutes. Jeremiah, as usual, was lagging behind.

"Just hold on... there's no need to rush," Jeremiah grabbed his notebook and managed to barely get his set of house keys out of the lock before he was yanked away. Another typical morning to another typical day, right? Wrong.

"Hey! You two. You're with me today." Isaiah frowned; he'd heard that familiar voice before and it always meant trouble was close behind. Before either of the brothers could say anything, they were whisked off to a campsite. Tem was up to her usual tricks again.

Meet the Chosen Seven:

SCOTT ADAMS, your average fifteen-year-old high school student from California who enjoys theater, hanging out with his friends and just generally having a good time,
SAMANTHA ADAMS, Scott's twin sister who is an avid storyteller and a caring friend,
NATHANIEL "NATE" WINTERS, Scott and Sam's fourteen-year-old cousin who is originally from New York who has an aptitude for technology and setting things on fire,
KIRAN SHASTHRI, one of Nate's best friends from school who wants to be a medical missionary when she grows up and is rarely seen without her flute,
MICHAEL LIU, a quiet fourteen-year-old with a mysterious past,
KEITH CHANDLER, a thirteen-year-old kid from eastern Washington who talks to inanimate objects and lastly,
EDWARD McALLISTAIR, a sixteen-year-old football player from Texas with a superiority complex to boot.

Together under Tem's instruction and the watchful eyes of Isaiah and Jeremiah Lewis, can these seven young teenagers work together to save Digit Island before it falls? Or will Tem's skepticism about the strength of humanity prove accurate once again?

Silver Wings

Just a little short something I wrote... you can make your guesses about who the characters are, if they are actually characters in my stories that you've met. You can also make your guess as to the gender and identity of the narrator. Anyhow, enjoy.

I cannot fly anymore. I used to have wings, but he took them away from me and broke them. I don't even want to think about it right now, but my mind cannot keep itself from thinking of him. I don't know his real name, so I shall just call him Chris. Ironic. I've always liked that name. But not this time. Because it reminds me of him. The man who took my wings away.

These wings were a gift a long time ago and I've just learned how to use them. I guess I was born with them, but I can't know for sure. As I discovered more about myself and the world around me, they just grew until they were large enough to support my weight. I learned how to fly. She was the one who taught me how to fly, to use these wings. It is because of her that I put forth the effort into practicing and it is because of her patience when she taught me and because of her compassionate love for me (even though I assure you I do not deserve it) that I was able to learn.

She was my only true friend when the world was full of enemies and a light to help find my way in the darkness of my mind. Don't assume that we didn't argue because that isn't true; we did argue... we even fought, exchanging bitter words with one another in the irrational heat of anger. But because of that, the bond of our friendship strengthened. She taught me that sometimes a smile can change someone's day for the better and that having words to say isn't really necessary. She instructed me in a different way of viewing the world and that the scientific method doesn't always provide the answer. But most important of all, she taught me how to fly.

But now she is gone. I will never see her again. And because I will never see her again, my wings are broken. As hard as I try, they will not work anymore. So Chris cut them off. It was very painful and I remember screaming. Not so much from the pain, but from realising that they are gon, never to return. I will never be able to fly again.

Perhaps it is possible to fly without wings, but I have been told that will be very difficult, if not impossible. This is what Chris told me. "Have hope," he said. But hope is something that does not exist. Not in a world without her and since she is gone forever, how can the world have hope? No, I do not think I will ever be able to fly again. Especially without my wings. My beautiful silver wings.

I want... no... I need my wings back. Without them, I cannot fly. And without the ability to fly, life is pointless.

Letter of Forgiveness

Just a little something I decided to write from one character to another. This takes place just a few months after high school graduation. For some reason, Sam has been bugging me to write more about her and Katie, which has been rather interesting, to say the least. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy.

August 6, 2007

Dear Katie,

I'm not sure why I'm writing this to you, but I felt like I needed to say something. Ever since I last saw you about two months ago, God has been putting it on my heart to tell you a number of things. So if you will please do me the honour of reading this letter, that would be appreciated.

First of all, I have been praying for healing. We're all broken people, but it is our brokenness that makes us beautiful in a way. I don't know if you know what I mean, so I'll just leave it at that. But things that are broken need to be fixed. What you did hurt me a lot and it hurt Michael and my brother, too. You must know that healing cannot happen until Forgiveness and Grace are present.

I have forgiven you for what you did. So has Scott. Even Michael has, though stubbourn he is to admit it. But in order for you to heal - for any of us to heal, really - you must forgive yourself.

I am not going to be falsely nice and tell you that forgiving you has not been difficult. On the contrary, it has been one of the more difficult tasks I have been faced with. I know what you did was very bad, but how much must one atone for past mistakes? How long does it have to be before it becomes a legalistic ritual rather than an act of heartfelt penance? How muchmust one pay to redeem herself from past transgressions? Although no action is without consequence (as Michael so often points out to me), I see no reason for a person to continually beat herself over the head for a past mistake.

Do not get me wrong here. I am not saying that atonement is unnecessary, but that it needs to be balanced out by Grace and Mercy. From them comes Forgiveness and when all three are present, together with Love, that is when healing can happen. It is a choice, one that must be made to accept forgiveness.

And so, I have chosen to extend my forgiveness to you. God has already forgiven you for what you have done and now it is my turn. I cannot force you to accept it, but I am giving it to you as a gift and I hope that you will accept.

Your Sister in Christ,
Samantha Christine Adams

Convo in the Cafeteria

Just a brief scene between a few characters, narrated by someone who's observing them in the school cafeteria. I'll leave you to guessing what's going on, but it shouldn't be that hard to figure it out...

"May I ask you a question?" There was a short pause before the voice resumed. "Have you ever made a girl cry?"

The other youth turned around, suddenly no longer interested in his foot-long sub and he returned the half-eaten sandwich to his plate. "Sure... why'd'ya ask?" Unlike the other boy's tone, his was light-hearted and quite a bit higher in pitch.

"Oh, no reason." The response came quickly as the shorter boy set his chopsticks down on a napkin and frowned slightly.

"This is about my sister, isn't it?" The Asian boy nodded, so the other youth continued. "Well, with her, it'd be best not to try and hide behind anything." His glance shifted towards the window, where it settled for a long moment before turning back to his companion. "If you need to yell at her, then do it. She can take it a lot better than she lets on sometimes." He shoved a potato chip into his mouth.

"Really?" He narrowed his eyes slightly.

The taller youth nodded and took a few gulps of water to wash down his food. "You think I'd lie to you about this?" He let out a heavy sigh. "Chance are, if you made my sis cry, it wasn't you." He stood up and picked his tray up. Leaving the other boy to ponder the words that had just been spoken, he turned and headed out of the cafeteria...

Faramir's Song

I took a chance to write a brief little song in honour of one of my favourite fictional characters of all-time. Inspiration for parts of it was taken from the scene in Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, where Faramir and Eowyn are talking to each other in the Houses of Healing. Enjoy!

~~~~~

Your hand is reaching out
So I cannot deny
These feelings that are clear to me
And there's no reason why.

My heart, it tells me one thing
But I pretend I cannot hear
After all that we've been through
I just want to hold you near.

CHORUS
I want a hug to know you're sorry
A kiss to know you care
A smile when I see you next
To know that someone's there.
A hug to know you're sorry
A kiss to know you care
A smile when I see you next
To know that someone's there.

I see how much you're hurting;
I know how much you can love
All these things you hold inside you
Are gifts that come from above.

And so I ask you one thing
Promise me in return
That you'll be honest with me;
That is something you must learn.

Repeat Chorus

I, give you one thing
The chance to be set free
Take a chance to discover
Who you are meant to be.

I know I'm just a broken man
With not a lot to give
But my heart truly loves you
And just wants to see you live.

Repeat Chorus

Your smile is like fire
That burns my heart of stone
Your kindness is like the welcome
Of truly coming home.

So I'm asking you a question
And I hope you will reply
I really want to see you happy
But you make me want to cry.

Repeat Chorus

BRIDGE
Because I need to know
If you love me too
Because I need to know
That's why I'm asking you

Repeat Chorus x2

~~~~~

Actually, I have no idea where part of the inspiration came from. I was filling out an application for a job and all of a sudden, the chorus popped into my mind. As I continued writing the song, the scene in the third and final Lord of the Rings movie came to mind.

Anyhow, words are copyright me. With the exception of the chorus, I have no idea what the tune is supposed to be and I really don't have a way to share it with you, either. First of all, because I don't have a voice recording system. And second of all, because I can't sing.

Short Scene...

Just a short piece I was thinking of. Maybe I'll write more later, maybe not...

"You can't just keep running away." A hand came to rest on Michael's shoulder and he quickly twisted around, causing Sam's hand and arm to fall to her side once again. He turned away and she took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"Who's running?" Michael turned back around to face Samantha, his tone of voice rather snappish, especially for him. "I've come to accept things as they are, not look to how they should be." There was another long pause. "This needs to be done and I am the only one who can do it."

"But-" Sam started to say, tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Samantha," Michael cut her off before she could finish what she was about to say. "I must do it alone this time." Only a few moments later, he was gone; the sound of the door firmly shutting behind him echoed in Sam's ears.

-------

Sam went to the only place she knew of to think: the Reading Tree. The locally owned and operated bookshop had been a favourite place of hers to spend time and often, she would stop for coffee or tea in the little cafe. Zander, the owner, knew just about every customer by name. As soon as he saw Sam walk in, he called out to her.

"Usual for you today?" When Sam nodded, Zander went over to prepare the drink. Only moments later, he handed a steaming cup to Sam. As Sam reached into her wallet to pull out the two dollars and seventy-three cents, Zander shook his head. "Not today. That gentleman over there said he was expecting you to drop by."

Samantha frowned as she followed Zander's line of vision over to the far corner. At one of the other tables, she could see two Japanese girls talking, one of whom she immediately recognised as none other than Emiko Takahashi. What in all of tarnation was that girl doing at a bookshop? Sam wondered to herself. However, she was even more surprised when she saw the person to whom Zander was pointing.

In all honesty, she had expected someone like Hideaki Sato or Tyler Martin or even her brother, all of whom knew which drink she enjoyed, to be sitting at the table. Or Michael. Especially Michael. But she had to remind herself that they were no longer talking.

As she walked over, the man nodded his acknowledgement. "Miss Adams," his voice was slightly more acidic than Sam remembered, but it had been over a year since she'd last seen him. Sam took a deep breath and sat down.

A Duel of Wits, Part One

I really needed to write something... and preferably a piece when I wasn't being particularly nice to any of my characters. I'm thinking this gets worse before it actually gets better and you get to see a little bit of Michael's interactions with Emiko here. And Sharpe (as always) is awesome.

This takes place a few weeks into their sophomore year of high school (September 2004) because Kiran Shasthri is around and it's specifically stated that this happens in September because it's still warm.

Characters: Sharpe, Michael, Emiko, Samantha, Scott, others by mention
Word Count: 1000
Rating: G
Summary: Michael and Emiko have to figure out a way to resolve their differences.

Sharpe’s lips narrowed as he sneered. One hand was clenched around an Earlenmeyer flask with a pale green liquid filled nearly to the brim and the other hand was loosely fingering a long stick. He whipped the stick up against the chalkboard, scattering chalk dust throughout the classroom. Several students gasped. No one said anything; it was silent with the exception of a beaker full of bubbling liquid in the back fume hood.

Out of everyone in the room, both Emiko Takahashi and Michael Liu seemed to be the only ones who even remained slightly calm after seeing Sharpe’s reaction, and neither of them for a good reason. Kiran Shasthri was sitting in the back corner of the room, her eyes wide with fear; Samantha’s eyes were gently closed, showing a resolved expression on her face. But it was obvious she was angry… and obviously so. Scott gritted his teeth together and clenched his right hand into a tight fist. Whatever was about to happen was not going to be good and he knew it. He had known his best friend long enough to know when something was going on and Emiko was better than just about anyone else at irking any one of them in the homeroom of twenty people. And today, she was at the top of her game.

“Miss Takahashi.” Sharpe’s words were cold as they cut through the air, even amidst the warmth of the air that September morning. Emiko glanced up at him, a nauseating smirk playing on her face. Michael’s steady glance shifted towards Sharpe, then back to Emiko as quickly as it had left. “Mr. Liu.” It was now that the Asian boy frowned slightly. “A word with both of you. Outside. Now.” He motioned to the door that led into the nearest hallway and turned to pace towards it.

Emiko smirked at Michael. “Look who’s in trouble now,” she commented, careful to keep her voice low enough so that Sharpe wouldn’t easily be able to hear. After shooting a feeble smile over at Scott, Michael turned to leave and follow Sharpe. Scott felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. It was not very often he believed in what his sister often called a sixth sense, but the sophomore was sure that this was one of those times he did. And this sixth sense was yelling at him to do something. Because it just wasn’t fair.

It hadn’t been Michael’s fault… nor had it been Emiko’s. It had all happened so fast that even Scott had possessed some difficulty keeping up and knowing exactly what had come to pass. One moment, Michael was swapping history notes and talking about chess strategies with Evan Saunders and the next moment, it was like Michael and Emiko were in some sort of stalemate, Sharpe looking on with a sinister expression of both intrigue and loathing in his eyes. Only one thing had been said and Scott hadn’t been paying enough attention to tell what that something was. And now, all three of them were outside, except for Saunders, who was now passing notes back and forth with Victoria Chapel.

“You think they’ll be okay?” Scott leaned over and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. It was rare to see Scott devote even most of his attention to one person or one thing; often Michael had commented that Scott could easily be quite a bit more brilliant if he’d only learn to concentrate on one thing at a time. The younger twin had always brushed his friend’s remark off without even as a second thought.

Sam nodded. “They have to be,” she replied, her rough voice hardly even a whisper. “It’s out of our hands now and the best we can do is trust that Sharpe won’t let either of them react.” There was a short pause and Sam waited for the conversation between Kiran and Tyler to resume before she continued. “And that he won’t bait either of them in the process.” She shifted in her seat so that she could see outside, but Sharpe’s back was turned towards the window; she couldn’t see his face at all.

“Mr. Liu, I have given you plenty of chance to explain yourself, yet you have chosen not to take advantage of this.” Sharpe’s voice was considerably lower in volume, but higher in pitch than was normal for him. “Same for you, Miss Takahashi.” His voice dropped to a hiss as he spoke Emiko’s name. “Perhaps both of you should come up with a way to solve your problems without creating as much of a commotion in my classroom.” One of his eyebrows arched slightly.

Emiko met Sharpe’s steady gaze with a smirk. “How about a duel of wits?” A smile still playing on the corners of her lips, she turned towards Michael. “Well?”

The Asian boy thought for a long moment, then nodded. “Name your terms,” he replied, his voice slightly tentative.

“Ackerman’s classroom, after school.” She glanced up at Sharpe for a moment, but he said nothing. “You bring one of your friends and I’ll bring one of mine. Other than that, we both come alone.” There was the slightest pause. “Agreed?” She stuck her right hand out and twirled a long strand of dark hair around the fingers of her left hand.

Michael reached to shake Emiko’s hand, a showing a slight wince as he made skin contact with her. “Agreed, but we allow Mr. Sharpe to be present, as well.”

The girl smirked. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” She let go of Michael’s hand and dropped her voice to a low whisper. “Four o’clock. See you then.” With that, she turned and flounced back into the classroom, leaving Michael to wonder what he had gotten himself into. But he would have to wait and see. Right now, it was Emiko’s turn and it was little use to predict what she was planning to do next. He’d just have to sit and wait it out.

tbc

Cold Ramen Noodles

It just occurred to me how little I have actually been writing over the past few weeks and how much I should really be updating this on a more regular basis... and so, for a treat, I have a quick scene between Hideaki and Emiko. Yeah, they're both awesome.

This isn't meant to be deep or anything. It was just an idea that came to me earlier today and it was kind of cute. They're supposed to be in sixth grade or so.

MPAA Rating: G
Characters: Hideaki, Emiko, others by mention
Timeline: 2001-ish? Sometime after Hideaki is adopted by his dad and Uncle Joe, but apparently before he knows how to cook anything really worth eating...

"Well, we really don't have much to eat around here..." Hideaki offered a weak smile as he finished pulling a few items out of the cupboard. "And we really don't have many clean dishes, either." As Emiko watched him, it was pretty obvious to her that her friend's smile was forced. Unlike her family, which was rich enough to hire someone to do the cooking and cleaning- not that Emiko cared for Ashley, the latest in a line of housekeepers/nannies- Hideaki had always had a list of chores to do on his own. "And Dad won't let me make anything but Ramen noodles and popcorn, so what'dya want?"

Emiko shrugged. She was just glad to get out of her own house, as her father was busy with his campaign. Thankfully, Ashley had agreed to shuttle Emiko wherever she needed or wanted to go over the summer, so the sixth grader wasn't stuck at home all summer when Tetsuya was at the office trying to pass legislation. Or she wouldn't have even been here; San Francisco was a long drive from her home in San Jose. "How 'bout Ramen noodles?"

Hideaki pulled out a microwave pot and two bowls. One thing that they most certainly had a surplus of around the pantry was Ramen noodles. He was slightly less than graceful as he filled the pot about halfway with water and carried it over to the microwave and Emiko could hardly help but smile. Neither of the kids was known for being particularly graceful, but she was pretty sure she could have carried the dishes over from the sink to the microwave without almost spilling half the water.

"I'm gonna make yours first 'cause we only have one pot." Hideaki pressed a button and the microwave started. When Emiko opened her mouth to argue that Hideaki needed to eat more than she did- which she knew was true, as he'd admitted to not eating breakfast that morning and Ashley had insisted that Emiko finish an entire bowl of oatmeal, half an omelet and freshly cut fruit before leaving the house- but Hideaki smiled. "You're the guest and it'd be rude for me to make my food first," he replied. Such was always the case; Hideaki usually thought of everyone else before he thought of himself.

A few minutes later, Hideaki pulled the pot out of the microwave and poured the soup and noodles into one of the plastic bowls that he'd set aside for Emiko. As she watched him, she noticed that the liquid was hardly close to letting off steam. But she knew it would still need to cool down before she ate it; she could remember one of her father's friend's words of caution around hot foods. She had been about nine years of age at the time.

Ashley had just left for the evening and Emiko was sitting down to a delicious supper of spaghetti noodles with tomato sauce. Tetsuya was working on a speech for his re-election in the den and a friend- or at least she assumed this was a friend of her father's- was watching and providing careful critique. When her father had finished speaking, the other man said a few words and followed Takahashi into the dining room, where Emiko sat. Tetsuya had taken little notice of his daughter, but the stranger leaned over to Emiko. "Be careful. It's still hot and your father would not want to see you burn yourself," he hissed in her ear before exiting out the front door.

She'd only seen the stranger once or twice since then and hadn't ever heard him talk before, but she was always careful around hot foods. The girl took a pair of chopsticks and stirred the noodles around absently, all the while watching her friend. "Hey, go ahead and eat before your noodles get cold," he glanced back at her, momentarily taking his focus off the microwave. "I can wait." Emiko wanted to protest, but Hideaki smiled over at her. It's so like him, she thought to herself. He always thinks of everyone else before him... even me. And I don't deserve it. She closed her eyes for a moment. I don't deserve his friendship and he deserves a lot better than mine. She didn't even notice that the microwave had beeped and Hideaki walked over to where she was sitting.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. After a moment, Emiko looked up at him and nodded. "You sure?" The girl bit her lips together to keep from crying- she'd always been taught not to show weakness- and nodded once again. There was a short silence that was building up and this made Hideaki uncomfortable enough to squirm. "Hey, your noodles are getting cold."

After a long moment, Emiko smiled gently at him, but it was a forced smile. "I was waiting for your food to be done," she answered.

"You know you didn't hafta do that."

Emiko nodded. "Yeah, I know..." her voice trailed off slightly. "But it's no fun to eat alone. And besides, I like them better cold." This time her smile was genuine. The girl picked up her chopsticks and took a bite of cold ramen noodles. And she couldn't have been happier.

Happy Late Valentine's Day...

Quick VD musing here, so please bear with me. I don't normally write anything romance and for a very good reason, but I'm bored AND I finished 40 chapters of Genesis AND I finished my homework for math class, so here goes nothing.

Michael glanced over at the girl and shook his head. "You deserve better than what I could give you." He was quiet for a long moment and did not meet her eyes. Instead, he stared down at the tiled floor, counting the brown specks on one of the linoleum blocks.

The girl crossed the room towards where Michael sat on the couch and plopped down next to him, taking little notice of his personal space. She was one of the few people who had always been able to do this to him without making him too uncomfortable and right now, she chose to take advantage of that. As most girls would do. Sam turned towards him and for a moment, she hesitated before setting her hands on his shoulders. She had always believed that physical touch was a most excellent way of expressing affection and many times, her brother had playfully referred to her as a cuddler.

"Michael?" One of Sam's finger's flicked a strand of Michael's hair. "This isn't about them." She was, of course, referring to Hideaki and Emiko, who had been seeing one another seriously for the past four years. Sam suspected the only reason why they weren't married yet was because of certain objections voiced by several people. "And before you start again, my opinion counts for something."

The young man opened his mouth to protest, about to give Samantha a lecture about how the rights of women hadn't always been to have a say in the affairs of others... or of themselves. But he already knew what she would say. This was twenty-first century America, not some country in the Middle East or two hundred years ago.

"And who's to say that I deserve better than you? What if I don't want that?" She glanced at the calendar, which read February 19, 2015. It had been almost four years since she'd finished college and most of her classmates and friends - her brother included - were already married. So why had she waited? For a long time, she had thought about her decision, even seeking counsel from the most unlikely of sources. Her high school self would have scoffed at her older persona asking for help like she had, but Sam had been desperate and she wanted an opinion other than that of her twin. As much as she respected him, she disagreed wholeheartedly when Scott told her that Michael wasn't coming back. And she had been right, hadn't she?

There was a long pause where Michael watched Sam carefully, as if trying to figure out what to say to her. He was quiet during the entire time; the only sound in the room came from the second hand of the clock keeping track of the moments that passed.

I can't even bring myself to finish this right now. Okay. There is a very good reason why I don't write romance. Now you've seen why. Please don't bug me to write it again.

Brief Snippet?

So... my roommate and I were talking last night about characters and such and something struck me that I really hadn't thought of before. Sharpe is a lot more rough (for lack of something better to call him) towards Michael than he is towards Hideaki... or even really anyone else. The thing is that he knows Michael can handle it and Hideaki can't as well as Michael can. Plus, if Michael's going to grow as a person, he needs to be pushed and Sharpe realizes that.

Sharpe's pretty unique amongst my characters, I think. He possesses the unique ability to read people insanely well, but it's a learned skill for him. I don't remember whom he's talking to at this point (possibly Hugh Avery), but he remarks that he has always been a loner and studies people in order to learn more about them. This implies that his ability to read people hasn't always been as good as it is now. Well... or if you read anything about him when he's younger, you can find out that's true. Sharpe's just wierd.

But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about right now... I wanted to talk about something that happens later in Snapshots. And yes, there are spoilers here. So, Sharpe is spending time with both Michael and Jonathan Liu and when all is said and done, Michael has heard some things that he would have really rather not heard... and that Jon's not sure Michael should have been told yet. So Michael basically runs away (unlike Scott, Michael has a good sense of direction, so getting lost isn't an issue).

The door slammed shut and Jon turned to leave. He had to follow Michael... he had to go after his son. This never should have happened. Michael was too young to know all of this. Even though Michael was a good sixteen years of age, Jon would never have expected his own mistakes to weigh so heavily on his son.

Sharpe placed a hand on Jon's shoulder, stopping the older man in his steps and holding him back."Let him go. He needs to take care of this on his own." There was a certain gravity to Sharpe's voice that could not be mistaken for anything other than concern. "There is nothing we can do for him now." He was aware that those words sounded insensitive, cruel even, but he had to say them.

"What'd we do wrong?" Jon's voice was doubtful, questioning. He glanced up at Sharpe and their eyes met for a long moment.

Sharpe could only shake his head. "Nothing," he replied in a near whisper. "He needs to work this out on his own and there is nothing you could have done that would have made this any easier." The lines on his face creased as his thin lips drew into a frown. "He will come back, but please, do not go after him... not now."

Not only is Michael going to get it when he gets back, but apparently Sharpe knows him better than anyone thought was the case. Michael does come back... it just takes awhile.

But that is it for now. I just thought I should update this... and actually write something for once. I am still working on chapter six.

Just Alright - A Brief Writing Piece

I just got an idea for a scene between Sharpe and Dr. Shasthri, so I think I am going to try to write at least some. I don't know how good it will be, but here goes...

MPAA Rating: G
Word Count: 1682
Characters: Priya Shasthri, Sharpe, others by mention
Summary: Takes place right after this... Sharpe has an interesting conversation with one of his professors.
Warnings: Controversial content by the name of religion. Either deal with it or don't read it.

The teenager glanced up, still keeping his hands folded tightly, his fingers almost white from lack of circulation. He had not meant to stay this late, but he had no family... at least none that would be worried about him or wonder why he wasn't at home. Sure, it was the day before Thanksgiving and almost everyone else on campus had gone home for the long weekend, but despite the Altons' kindness and hospitality, their small house on Chestnut Avenue still didn't feel like home to him. It never had.

"Victor?" Dr. Shasthri leaned over next to the teenager. Despite the fact that the boy's student identification read an entirely different name, Priya Shasthri knew quite well that when someone requested to be called something, it was a wise idea to comply. She knew Sharpe went by his middle name... and had since at least the beginning of his freshman year. The professor seriously doubted whether anyone other than a few of the faculty members and the teenager's family even knew his first name. "Listen, I don't want to disturb you, but don't you have anywhere to go?" Even she had something to do tomorrow; she had signed up on the volunteer list to help feed homeless people when their pastor had passed it around the church congregation.

Sharpe's dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "I have a paper for Frasier's toxicology class that I am going to finish writing tomorrow." He had already done nearly all the research for that project; now all that was left was writing the eight-paged paper, something he had chosen to put off all semester.

Priya frowned and shifted her weight to a more comfortable position, letting her shoulder bag drop to the ground. Inside, she was carrying the weight equivalent of at least three text books. Something told her that prying was a bad idea around Sharpe; the university sophomore had been more than secretive over the past year that she had gotten to know him. But like anyone else, she was curious. "Do you not have anywhere to go? Doesn't your family live nearby or anything?" She could have kicked herself in the shins for that comment; as soon as she had spoken, Sharpe's face paled to the color of parchment.

The teenager bit the end of his tongue, almost hard enough to draw blood. Yes, his family did live near... well, as much as he could call them family. "Not particularly," he lied. The Altons had chosen to go down to San Diego for the break; they had left that morning and were now in southern California, visiting people Sharpe had only met once and honestly could care less about.

Dr. Shasthri sat down on the linoleum floor, thankful she had chosen to wear jeans to work that day instead of a skirt. There was so much she understood, yet so much she had no idea about at all. For a long moment, she studied the quiet student who had proved himself to be an enigma. She had been told that she was good at reading people and she decided to put this theory to practice. As she looked into his dark eyes, he glanced away, resortng to counting the speckled dots on the floor. Her glance followed down to his hands. Scars. Somehow, this didn't surprise her much. There was a short pause. "Well, you're more than welcome to come and join us. We're helping serve homeless people at the church."

Sharpe stood up with such quickness that surprised Professor Shasthri. She had never seen anyone who was not an athlete move so quickly. She watched as Sharpe recoiled into the shadows that were provided by the stairwell. "No!" This was spoken with more force than he had ever used around an authority figure before, other than perhaps Alton. Josiah Alton had heard him yell before, but few other adults had. The back of his fist hit the wall just hard enough to cause redness. There would probably be a bruise there tomorrow.

"I..." The professor was nearly speechless. She knew not everyone at the school was religious - in fact, she was one of three professors in the greater sciences department who held Judeo-Christian beliefs - but she had never imagined anyone getting so upset at the mention of a church. "I'm sorry." Those were the first words that came out of her mouth. "I didn't mean any offense." Priya thought for a moment. She had taken a lot of flack from her co-workers whenever the subject of religion came up. As if being both a woman and an ethnic minority in the sciences wasn't enough. The professor had learned not to take offense at anything that was said.

"I don't take any offense, but I can't." There was a certain aspect to Sharpe's voice that Priya had never heard before. Normally, the sophomore was quiet and his reactions were measured and composed carefully. He hadn't been inside a church building since before he graduated high school... not even on Christmas Eve or Easter Sunday. Especially not Christmas Eve. He could not go back. Not now or ever again. He had promised himself never to set foot in a church building as long as he lived and the young man intended on following through. A promise was a promise, even if it was only to yourself, right?

Dr. Shasthri glanced over at him, but decided not to press... for information or otherwise. If Sharpe was going to tell her what was going on, it would have to be his own choice, not her pressuring him to do anything. "Are you sure everything is alright?"

Sharpe nodded. "Fine. Just perfect." Sarcasm was dripping from his voice and Professor Shasthri caught that and frowned, her thin lips drawing together. Sharpe moved forward slightly and clasped his hands behind his back.

Before she could stop herself, Professor Shasthri decided to take a chance and ask a question that she would probably regret later. "You don't like anything that has to do with religion, do you?" Her question was innocent enough and her voice, non-accusing. It was the same tone she frequently used in the classroom or talking individually with her students.

"Religion is stupid." As the three-word response came, Priya couldn't have been more surprised. She was used to him being far more eloquent or at least less blunt. However, she had to agree with him... to a certain extent. Religion for the sake of religion - as she had pointed out so often to Lewis from the philosophy department, with whom she enjoyed long talks over coffee - was pointless.

Although common sense told her not to, she decided to press. Part of her inner core told her that she was closer to getting the young student to talk than anyone else had been, but Shasthri knew she would have to tread carefully. Amongst the general population, topics including religion were deemed as controversial at best. Even though she and Frank had talked extensively on the subject, both were respectful adults, capable of civil conversation, despite not always agreeing on any particular subject. "Perhaps it is..." These words were more of a muse to herself and a ploy to get Sharpe to explain his comment. "But surely anyone who dislikes religion must have a reason." As a scientist, she held to the philosophy of having some reason for every decision she made, no matter whether her reasons were logically oriented or not.

Sharpe was quiet for a long moment and his long fingers ran along one of his scars on his right hand and up his arm a few inches. "I don't hate religion. I hate Him." The last word he spoke was emphasized and the teenager nodded towards the ceiling. Sharpe's voice had lost its previously present sarcasm.

Dr. Shasthri glanced up at Sharpe. For the past several minutes, he had been standing and she, sitting. She nodded towards him and he sat down, leveling her with his dark gaze. Priya was quiet for a long moment. "If you don't mind me asking," there was a short pause as she studied him and she leaned forward, supporting herself with her hand, "please do explain." Not only had she assumed he was non-religious, but she was aware that at least one of the other faculty members was under the impression that Sharpe was an atheist. It didn't bother her one bit, but something in her said that there was more to him than what met the eye. Such was the way with everyone.

"Explain what?"

She knew she should have been expecting a question in return. She had seen this strategy before, mostly in students who preferred not to talk about a certain subject. They would ask questions in response to questions or try to change the subject; some were better at it than others were. "Your esteemed philosophy professor seems to think that you are an atheist." She was speaking of none other than Dr. Lewis.

Sharpe's eyes narrowed so much that he looked like he was squinting at something. "That is illogical." His lips drew together into a thin frown and he sunk to the floor, leaning his back up against the brick wall. "It's impossible to be angry at someone if you don't believe that person even exists." In the back of his mind, he was pretty sure there was a God somewhere, but he was sincerely doubtful that God was anywhere near caring. His life had taught him that this was most likely the case.

Dr. Shasthri nodded. She was about to say something, but she stopped herself as she caught a glimpse of something shiny in Sharpe's eye. Maybe it was the way the light from the lamp post outside was hitting his face, but she doubted it. "Are you alright?" She almost reached out to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but decided against it.

Sharpe shrugged. "I will be." He was always alright. Never great, rarely horrible. Just alright. He always would be.

NB: Yes, Frank Lewis is named partially after one of my favourite all-time authors... and after one of the characters he wrote. But these characters belong to me, despite whatever namesakes they might have. And the Altons live on Chestnut Avenue, too (same street that the Lius live on... and the Adamses and the Johnsons).
Another interesting thing to note is that Kiran makes a similar comment about one of her teachers... that their "esteemed science professor will have her corpse as the next anatomy specimen" if she left school without permission.

Eirian's Tale

I need to write more... unfortunately, I want to write something that probably wouldn't happen in the realistic stories I have going, so it might be time to bring out Eirian...

Eirian's an Annuviel, or a winged being similar in most ways to an Elf. Except that they're shorter and they have very large wings. And they can fly. She's from the same clan as Quayle (Xanthus), which means her wings are silvery-white. Her hair is also pretty light and her eyes are silvery-purple, which is characteristic of those descended from the Elder Tribe (Kai and Ismet are not descendents of the Elder Tribe). Those of the Elder Tribe are usually taller than other Annuviels; it is rare for an Annuviel to be taller than five feet.

Most Annuviels have a love of life and all things that grow or breathe, though they tend to be quite xenophobic. They're secretive folk and don't like outsiders. Eirian may not be xenophobic, but she is incredibly prejudiced. To her, humans are alright (she lived with them for quite a few years), but she hates the Dark Elves... or anyone who might be descended from them. She's also incredibly masochistic, as lying causes physical pain for the Annuviels. Some have learned to ignore the pain (like Quayle) and others have learned to like it, but most just don't lie. At all. Eirian actually likes it.

So here's a little something I wrote with her in it. Yes, it's fantasy. It takes place in Almendrim, which is the fantasy land I created. It's kind of your general fantasy land, not completely unlike Middle-earth, though there are more races... and talking animals.

MPAA Rating: G
Word Count: 438

“With all due respect, I must object.” Eirian’s voice was raised quite a bit more than anyone had heard before and she stood up. She and an unidentified human male were in the highest tower at the castle in Cynelic. They had been discussing important matters for nearly three hours; every time the man offered a proposition, the younger female refused. Time after time, arguments started again until at last, Eirian felt like she had enough.

Grey eyes darted to glance out the window, the only portal into the outside world from the Tower. The sun was ready to set and within hours, the twin moons – Lunn and Carn – would appear. The Annuviel felt sick to her stomach; she knew what happened when the moons would align as they would tonight. Far off into the distance, she could already hear the chanting and she thought she saw a flicker of flame out of the corner of her peripheral vision. Another raid. Not even the most foul words in her native tongue of Archia would suit for the moment and she swore under her breath in the common speech.

“Consider it.” The man’s voice was insistent and even Eirian couldn’t ignore the pleading tone that was infused so deeply into his emotions. His offers were tempting; she could do as he asked and still gain revenge upon at least one of the enemy simultaneously. The corner of her eye twitched and there was a brief flash of a devious smile; her ears pricked back and she met the man’s eyes after a brief moment of recovery.

“Alright then, I shall.” There was a slight smirk playing onto her face as she thought through what he had said. A hiss came from inside the shoulder bag she was carrying and a teal head popped out. Nioko glared at the man, suspicion shining through his sulfur-colored eyes. Though the moons would align tonight, there would be no more Annuviel blood spilt over senseless raids by the enemy. She now had the means she needed to exact her revenge.

Little did she know, one action of hers would set off a chain reaction that would involve a major political crisis and another betrayal in her life. Nor was she aware that during the next few months, she would come to discover with whom her true allegiance rested. All she understood was that she had been given a task and she would carry it out like every other time, only placing her signature twist on the assignment.

Instead of deterring the company, she would find them and kill him.

Nioko is her pet snake. The unidentified human male is the Duke, who happens to be a high official in the King's Court. Lunn and Carn are the names of the twin moons that orbit Praesodyn, which is the name of the world that Almendrim (the country) is located on. Cynelic is the capital of the human kingdom. Archia is the name of the Annuviels' native tongue, which is virtually impossible for a non-Annuviel to learn (though some Elves have picked up decent portions of it). Eirian's basically a hired assassin at this point.