Me and my friend Ceyla write tons of stories, so we decided to put some of them up to see what people think of them. ^-^ One of mine to come.

Orion

Crisp autumn was fast settling in, and little Ariana wasn’t quite so little any more. At her full height she stood 5” 3’ and she had a body that was easy and lithe. She was still young, a budding sixteen, but she seemed older some how. Her lean face marked with a strange mix of femininity and strength.

She strolled the hallways of her school with an odd air about her. A sense of right. When Ariana’s light golden brown eyes swept over you, it was like she was making some sort of judgement on what she saw, but you couldn’t dislike her for it. She looked wise and strong. Easy to get along with, but not some one to mess with… which made scenes like this rather embarrassing for her.

Her left foot caught on the fabric of her right leg and her hand shot out in a useless effort to latch onto the air around her while the people scattered to avoid getting caught in her downfall. She made a single surprised exclamation, aware that no one was going to catch her, and felt a moment of disgust for their lack of concern before her eyes closed tight and she prepared for impact.

She never felt it. Instead she felt the strange, semi-present embrace of strong, well-toned, arms. Oh, she hit the ground; there was just no physical discomfort. As if the embrace had removed all the shock of it, and simply set her down on the ground to avoid any suspicion; for it really would have been suspicious if the people around her had suddenly witnessed and act of levitation. There was no one there. As frantically as her eyes jerked around upon landing, she couldn’t see any one… she just felt those arms as they slowly released her.

Moments later she was on her feet again, composure returned to her face as she dusted herself off like she had simply been worried about mussing her black button jacket cut short at the sleeves, long stripped sleeves extending over her hands, the grey and red patterning in thick bold lines. Or perhaps she was worried about scuffing her low cut, blessedly heal-less, black leather boots, just high enough to justify tucking in the dark denim of her skin tight jeans.

She adjusted the dark, handmade top hat into place over her short, practical bobbed dark brown hair. The tufts of blatant red and deep blacks gave her the touch of originality she loved so much as she looked herself over. One of a kind, everything she wore. It was all handmade by herself with some touches and jewlrey made by her younger, but just as talented sister.

Her entire family created things. She made clothes, shoes, jackets, shirts, jeans, she had very few purchased items. Her sister, Dalla made bits and bobbles, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, figures like animals and shapes, from beads mostly. Mother dearest worked with pottery and glassware, detailing handmade works with her own touches of brilliance and providing me and my sister with appropriate focal point for our creations. Michael (or as he preferred to be called, Taido) was a painter. There is little that he couldn’t paint, be it landscapes or people, her art was sought out by many collectors. Her father, last but not least, was a wood and metal worker. Making anything from bows and arrows, to spears, to swords, to happier things like tables and chairs. Yes, their family made everything but the kitchen sink… or anything in the kitchen for that matter.

Ariana sighed after a moment, all the sounds of relief filling her voice while she masked her uncertainty. She didn’t understand what had just happened. She didn’t know why she had felt those strong arms… or smelled that strange musty scent… She didn’t know why, and she didn’t know how, but she hoped to find out.

Turning a cold shoulder to the friends who had ignored her, she squared herself to leave the hallway in favor of the outer realms of the school. She found school to be so boring. And the bell had rung to dismiss the school day any way, so now people filed from the building in those strange currents. Like water being pushed through too few holes, spraying all over the outer regions after the moment of congestion at the door.

Of course Ariana didn’t want to leave through there. Instead she made her way slyly to one of the less obvious exits down a little used hall, ignoring the brief calls from those who pretended themselves her companions in hopes of receiving one of her original works.

She cast thoughts of them aside, letting her mind instead fill with patterns. What did she need to make? She detested wearing the same outfit more than once, and she had so much fabric… Perhaps a beige silk shirt… large sleeve… just a bit of ruffle along the front, lined in a burgundy thread… an arm band to match… a vest, rougher fabric, texture is very important… maybe a deeper blood red with the burgundy ribbing… and a kerchief! It had been so long since she wore a kerchief, and they were so handy sometimes… Smooth black slacks, and a nice belt. Maybe Dalla could embroider them with a nice red beaded pattern… yes that would be quite nice. The shoes would have to be a smooth black leather. Not as shiny as the ones she had on, with a red fabric laced into it… and heels, yes heels, and a black bolleo… yes a black bolleo to tip to the back of her head.

Ariana felt the grin forming on her lips (which bore only the faintest glimmer of lipgloss, she didn’t like make-up) and knew she must look positively insane, but she didn’t care. Clothing, and the thought of making it, always made her happier. Made her smile.

So she boarded the bus with a content smile, her golden eyes skimming the sea of faces. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for. She never found it no matter how often she did that, and she did so with every chance she got.

What ever it was, she didn’t find it… again, so instead she claimed her seat, which no body dared take regardless of her presence or lack of. When the bus made the junior high rounds, it was the same seat used by her younger sister. What could Ariana say? Dalla and her were birds of a feather.

Ariana leaned back into the ugly faux leather of the seat, her eyes, no longer absorbed in the task of looking for what wasn’t there, now skipped over the buses outside. The ostentatious yellows and the grim black. Faces, faces, faces, but never one that caught her attention.

She’d had vague crushes before. She met a guy, thought he was cute, decided his personality was compatible, and when he asked, she said yes… but it was always boring. It always lacked… something. Physical attraction… there was something to be said for physical attraction. It has never been so simple for Ariana as the guy was cute.

It’s the eyes, she decided while thinking on it, there’s always something missing when I look in their eyes. Which was why she’d never gone past hugging. Never kissed, never ventured to the world of bed games. It was a long standing joke that such a being as she, lean lithe and full of attractive vigor, a magnet for guys looking for something unique, was such a prude. She never gave more than she took and she never took more than she wanted. And she had never wanted anything from any of the boys here.

She sighed, more to herself than anything, finally letting her gaze slip from the buses to be congregation before her. A multitude of students all chitter chattering at one another while waiting for her to give them some sign of acknowledgement. She hated them. They were all just users, posers, ‘wanna-be’s. She wanted to get the bus ride over with, and to go home and make her clothes.

The trip passed with nothing but muted distaste from Ariana, seething out just enough to deter the others around her from trying to make contact.

When she finally got to her stop, she bolted, once again glad for the flat bottoms of her boots as she darted into the cover of trees. The large oaks hid her home from public view, and gave her family what little privacy that could be granted them… the electric fences gave them the rest.

As soon as she was past said fences, she found herself being bombarded with a mob of animals. Mostly dogs, she found herself on the ground in moments, laughing happily. She was well aware of the fact that her clothes were being pressed into the dirt, it just wasn’t terribly important. It never had been, worst case scenario she had to make the clothes again. She didn’t mind. So she just enjoyed being covered with furry bodies as dogs barked and yipped and it was just a fun time.

On top of being so creative, her family ran a sort of shelter for dogs. They had a portion of land set aside, with a large homey building, where people close to the family and in the neighborhood could bring stray animals to a good home. Her family never got more than they could handle, and they always loved the company.

Currently they had three labs, six small dogs of varying breeds, two beagels, three true blood wolves (which didn’t associate as readily with the rest of the dogs but were perfectly willing to let themselves be petted once or twice by a familiar hand), and twelve other assorted dogs, as well as about fifteen different kinds of cat. They had a license to own wild animals, and the three young deer, wild cat, two tigers, one adolescent female lion, a sun bear, three grizzlies, an assortment of snakes, and a large aquarium with a pair of female crocodiles, were all perfectly legal. They all had more space than was necessary, and were well fed and content. They each had their own pen depending on their breed, all well adapted to the best they could want.

There was also an assortment of less dangerous, but just as wild woodland creatures, like foxes and raccoons and possums.

Most of the animals were rescued from one bad environment or another, and were all living quiet isolated lives. Her family was kind, not crazy, and they didn’t encroach on the animals’ cages, and hired professionals to do that job. They provided the care, the food, the habitat, they just didn’t go too close to the more dangerous animals.

It was the dogs, minus the wolves, and three rather species confused cats, that were now mauling her into giggles. “All right! Down! Off! Come on, let me up all ready!” She fell into helpless laughter once more as the tongues flew and there was the excitement of the animals flying through the air.

It took a full fifteen minutes for her to crawl from the dog/cat pile and escape to the door, the woofs and oddly bark-like mrows following her to the porch before she finally shut the door on them.

She huffed and puffed, sighing as she waited for her grin to subside to a content smile.

Her home was everything you would expect of a creative and eccentric family. A mesh of colors and decorations all over the walls. Each wall a mural of some kind, each one of a different level of skill, showing her brother’s improvement over the years. All over the tables and furniture was fabrics and thread, lumps of clay half molded, unfinished strings of beads, all making a strange mess that was intriguing to look at.

She settled and dropped off her bag at the door, running her hand along the spine of the fluffy pug-nosed cat on the table just inside the door. “MOM! DAD! I’M HOME!!!” She called out in her usual greeting. But she was in a hurry. “I’M GONNA GO TO THE SEWING ROOM UPSTAIRS!” She shouted for their benefit before dashing up the stairs. Her house was composed of four levels. The bottom most was the family level, but that was divided into two parts because it was the largest and included the outside rooms as well. One part was for the whole family and the kitchen, and the other was her parent’s workrooms and bedroom. The second level was her brother’s. The third was her sister’s, and the top, was hers.

She slipped into her room, locking the door to the stairs behind her. She didn’t want to be interrupted. She wheeled, casting a glance to the cage in corner with a smile. She owned a sugar glider. The one pet all her own. “Hey Vera!” She called affectionately to the sleeping ball of fur. The adorable rodent face peeked out with a sleepy glance. Her sister had hamsters. Her brother… he had a bat. An actual vampire bat… it was pretty cool.

When Ariana had been given her greeting, she moved further into her domain, moving through the first room into the large work room, and past into the storage room. Here she filtered through the plastic bins of fabric, sifting around for the proper fabric, and tossing them onto the table as she went. It didn’t take long. Everything was sort by color, then alphabetically by fabric. She finished quickly and moved immediately into the workroom, scooping up the mess of fabric as she went.

Ariana decided that the shirt would likely take longest, and thus should be made first. She spread the flimsy silk over the table, and took a step back, watching it settle… seconds later she was back on the fabric like a predator pouncing on prey, a piece of chalk practically materializing in her hand as she sketched out the pattern of the shirt… and she began to work.

***************

It was hours later when the outfit finally lay before her. She worked quickly and efficiently. She was used to deadlines, and tonight’s was simply dinner. She glanced outside… the sun had gone down and through the generously sized window she could see a lovely collection of stars. The one constellation she could recognize looking from her window, was Orion, his belt, his two dogs (Canis Major, and Canis Minor) and the bull and rabbit he always hunted across the sky. She smiled, setting the garments on hangers and then on the work table to be worn the following day.

This done, she turned on her heels, and marched out the door back down the stairs. Because her family was so scatter brained, they decided that they only schedule they would bother to enforce was that dinner would always be served at eight thirty. No matter what happened, you could always rest assured that when you stepped down stairs for dinner at eight thirty, you would find yourself attacked by the scents of the meal ahead. Tonight was no exception.

They didn’t eat dinner inside though. They only times they used the dining room were when they had guests, or it was raining outside. Today there was no rain, and no guests, so upon reaching the bottom step of the often too-long stairwell, she turned to move down the hallway and through the kitchen, passing by the mess of dishes (their maid hadn’t come by yet, and they were always so busy!) to the back door, pushing open the heavy wood to come to a stop on the patio out back. Her family was just opening up the pizza boxes. They always ordered five. One to match each preference, and ensure leftovers for the following night. Plus the extra large pizza that had absolutely nothing on it, to make the dogs feel more like the family. It also was a good motivator to keep the dogs out of their hair while they tried to eat.

She pulled out the chair to the table, sliding into place while her father nudged her pizza box towards her. It was strange to look at the two of them and try to connect them as related. The only feature she bore of her father’s was her eyes. Her hair used to match, a light golden color, but as she no longer had her natural born hair color, that no longer connected them. She really took after her mother though. They could be twins if not for the age difference and coloration of hair and eyes.

Her mother, Brittnae, had a slim build, taller than Ariana, but not by much. Her features were smooth, rounded, but her green eyes were sharp as knives. She had light, auburn hair that flowed down to the small of her back in waves. Her mom didn’t like to restrain her locks, it didn’t seem right for her to.

Looking back to Ariana’s father, Allen, you saw lanky awkwardness. He was very tall, six foot two, and he was all angles. With a sharp chin and nose it almost looked like if his features were exaggerated any more they could cut some one.
Her brother was only a little shorted than her father, with the same round features as his mother, but Allen’s build. His hair was once the dame golden color as his father but… well when you leave paint in too long it will eventually stain. So his hair was every imaginable color, and his face was streaked with fresh paints from what ever scene he was detailing now.

Her younger sister was simply a shorter, female version of her dad. Hair done up in a ponytail, she was the only one who restrained their hair.

Ariana smiled, pulling up a piece of shrimp and artichoke pizza, taking a large, ravenous bite and chewing it down. “So,” murmured Brittnae, “what did everyone do today?”

Conversation ensued and the typical Rotweld evening ensued… until Ariana heard a strange kreening echo through her ears. Like a startled cry, which stopped her in the middle of talking about the clothing she was planning on making. This drew the attention of her family, for she never stopped in the middle of talking about clothes! “Honey? What’s wrong?” Asked her father in a husky baritone voice.
Ariana blushed, glancing to the pizza box before her. “Nothing, sorry. Just got distracted.” She smiled and threw herself back into the conversation, trying not to think about the sound growing in her ears. None of her family seemed to be hearing it… or were they? She noticed Dalla trying to pick out something from her ears. Michael was oddly solemn, like he was trying to focus on something. Her mother was just smiling a little too brightly, and her father was glancing around like trying to find the source of the sound.

Finally her sister cut in. “Oh. My. God.” She whispered, starring up above her into the sky. All eyes turned to match. It was Orion, his dogs, the petite form of the rabbit, and the bull… all the stars that made up the constellation seemed to be glowing, as if burning through the night sky. Everyone’s attention was swiftly drawn up by the source of the distraction.

As they watched, the stars seemed to move, the other constellations seemed to shift towards Orion, as if trying to stop him from whatever he was doing. Even more, Ariana’s eyes obviously were deceiving her into thinking she saw the faint light of matter hitting the atmosphere. Crazy right? Stars are giant balls of burning gas, there was no way that they could ever be that close to the earth and still look like pin pricks of light… slowly getting closer to one another.

The stars grew brighter and brighter, soon the light touched the light of other stars in distinct rays, making out the bodies of two dogs, a man, a rabbit, and a bull, sounds of distressed surprise mounting and growing into different voices of shock.

“What is that?” Ariana murmured, staring with wide eyed wonder.

The five falling constellations grew even more defined, the form outlined by starry light was flesh out with shadowy distinctions. Muscles flushing into existence without losing any brilliance in between.

They broke through the last layer of the stratosphere, hitting the clouds and hurtling further downward, passing from sight for a few horrible moments. Then the strange new beings passed before the face of the moon, their strong bodies struggling for some kind of control against the moonlight.

It took only seconds for Ariana to figure out where they were headed.

“Dad,” yelled Michael, all ready hurtling toward the house.

Both the men were in the house before any of the girls could respond. They were headed for where the large and dangerous animals were kept.

Here's something bizarre from a few years ago:

An Aged Verse for Your Eyes and Ears
We experience the world in a slow, burning slide
Thoughts slipped from my tongue to my toes
In words that now I tried to hide

It hurts thinking as I do.

An old written passage from some time ago:

“Slits,” I asked, “why do you call them slits?”
Her eyes flitted to me from beneath darkly painted lids. “Slits,” she told me, slashing once across her shirt with that finely chewed pencil of hers. “Yes, slits,” she continued, observing her work with a keen, blue eye, “as in cloth, or—” at this she glanced at me again whilst stabbing a new grey line across the first in an X pattern—“skin.”
She dampened her forefinger with a flick of the tongue and started rubbing at the spot, attempting to remove it from the silky white of the fabric. “Question is,” I emphasized weakly, in half-embarrassment, “why that?”
“This is what sounded worst in my mind,” coolly replied the she-poet. “What is right to my head,” she sang slightly. It was confusing to me, yes. “I am half-entitled to this thought, I say,” she scrawled to herself with her tongue. She adulated the sound of it and her words saying themselves with her and through her.
I said the thing I’d said before, a hundred thousand times. “Why?” begged I, “oh pray do tell, a thousand deaths aren’t worth this hell! Ask thee I, what shall I do? ‘Slits’ call thou thy poems, or parts thereof.”
“Not so!” said she. “Poems they are not; I cannot write but for to empty of loathsome words, love, and confusion.”
“Settle down,” I thought and said aloud. Empty of confusion, indeed, swelling myself to full capacity of it as she does. Looseness in lettering, she spoke to my eyes.
“So cruel and full of solemnity,” she rolled along her tongue, casting her pencil athwart the hallway and rising from her chair. “I love and write to say what I mean, yet I do not mean what I say.”

Chapter 1
So it begins.


For fifteen years now, I’ve been trying at a ‘normal’ life. I’ve lived as a young girl named Ariel. I’ve taken from her this name, the role in the family as an older sister and loving daughter, and the friends she would’ve had, all in the name of escaping; escaping from a crumbling world to one of relative safety without the same magical charm; from Orlion to Earth.
Many things had gone wrong and I had to get away from those that would do me harm. The fetus that I had stolen the life of wouldn’t have survived as it was. My ‘mother’ was a heavy smoker and it would’ve caused complications with the baby otherwise. It would’ve been the end of my ‘little sister’ as well if I’d not taken measures to prevent this.
My ‘father’ is a man who has great charisma and is well respected if not well known. He works on electronic boxes known as computers for a living. Nothing grand or special, and yet still it seems to be tiring. Even so, he’s always scheming up some invention, and helping around the house, making the most of everything no matter what.
My mother, while less admirable in her actions, is still a lovely woman. She works in a cafeteria, managing the food that I and my peers will eat at school… well she’d never actually done that at my school, but she’s still a lunch lady manager. Her personality has her in a constantly foul mood, and a need to clean is clear through her actions. She is a very neat and organized person, so my laid back attitude, wrought on by at least a millennia of life, tends to upset her. Just the same, the woman is my biological mother, and I care for her.
My sister is a full two years younger than my physical body, and quite the embicile. She could be smart, if only she’d make the effort to learn as much as she could. She was just about to turn thirteen, going into seventh grade, when things started to roll down hill.
It was the beginning of the school year, tenth grade for me, and all summer I’d had to deal with all kinds of shit. You see, the previous year, a group of friends of mine had decided that they wanted to meddle with magic, to see what it was all about. They should thank their lucky stars that I’d been with them at the time. I played ‘the summoner’ in their little group, able to ‘summon’ things from the other worlds, and put them under my control.
Tyler, the instigator of the whole affair, played the ‘barbarian’ with great strength and instincts, as well as ‘the navigator’, ‘guiding’ our little group along.
Matt had liked to believe he was a ‘poisoner’ and his scratch was loaded with poison that was harmful towards those he wounded. All because a single laceration he’d given to Tyler had begun to swell and sting predictably.
Alex had been the unknown, possibly a necromancer in training, or a witch hunter in waiting. Either way he proposed a lot of confusion within the group, often referred to as Bunny by Lufarea.
Lufarea was considered the ‘oracle’ and could tell what a person was in a past life, swiftly weaving fantasies about Tyler having been a god in a past life named Nile, god of power. She informed me that I’d been a black dragon, a creature of Lore, the goddess of Love. Matt had been one of Tyler’s minions, and she was a wolf trapped in human form. All of this was bull as far as I was concerned, because I’d never had the chance to allow my soul to be recycled more than this one time, and even I had, Arne and I would know every last past life we would’ve been through.
This whole thing had happened during the middle of the second semester, and during that short time, Tyler had stirred up no end of trouble, claiming to have a certain ‘sense’. Matt it seemed had a small bit of natural sight and could see the weaker demons that resided in this world. And then of course, Sarah had been involved with my magic for years. My impulsive naturally and unruly young tongue had me telling her more than I should have.
I got Sarah involved, but the others had gotten themselves involved… still, I’d played along, so I was as much to blame as they were.
Matt and I had played sweet hearts for a time too, really very boring. I’ve had far more entertaining men over the years, though none of them had lasted very long under my unyielding power… though there was that one… Any way. We played lovey-dove for a short time, and he was the one to end it through ignoring me repeatedly. And then we went back out again, only to end it once more; a very pointless relationship that had only served for minor entertainment. Much of the drama between us had occurred during the time when magics were running through the air. I’d even gone out with Alex in between the relationship, lasting only three days and hardly considered a boyfriend/girlfriend type thing.
The year ha finished out quickly, with Tyler the only one still in the practice of cockamime spells that were only angering the creatures around him, thus provoking the entire magical community on earth to start regularly attacking him and his peers in hopes of quieting him at last. My attempts to get him to stop were in vain and I’ve spent my summer making sure every one was safe.
Now I’m riding the bus and staring out the window, laid back on the small patch of fake leathery plastic, and watching a murky green world pass by, interrupted frequently by patches of white and odd reds as houses marred the forests so bland to me. I sighed, my hand resting atop the otherwise invisible Arne, clear in my sights, but not in any one else’s of this world.
He was my familiar for the past thousand plus years, and had changed forms when I had from a mighty red dragon, to this miniscule and comparatively powerless dragon. Though he was worlds more adorable than the menacing figure he’d once been.
He had a slim black figure about as long as my arm, or two and a half feet not including the tail. His tail added another three feet to the picture, as well as four inches of sharp point.
While the main of his form was black, his under side was a vivid purple color, and his head was covered in a bone looking substance that was harder than mithril extending into sharp spiraled horns about five inches long. Should he choose to open his eyes, they would be a startling red color, as vivid as rust, and as dark as blood, they were an oddity to his species. Usually the type of dragon her was now (corrinian barvilun) had the same colored eyes as they did under belly. His ancient spirit, however, had turned his eyes into that vivid color, just as mine had turned my eyes black as apposed to the green they were supposed to be.
Though perhaps the most annoying thing for Arne was his lack of wings. Corrinians were born with out wings and didn’t get them until they reached the age of fifty. A fact which I remind him of often in a teasing manner, though I did make it so that he could summon a pair of shadow wings whenever he wished.
Sighing, I would have to draw myself from my thoughts to push up, short blonde-brown hair falling into my eyes as I did. I’d brought nothing with me on that first day. It had seemed pointless to me to do so, and so I merely filed off the bus with the rest of my peers, ignoring the few calls from those I disliked in favor of fleeing to fetch my schedule.
I took a glance to the sky to see a glistening white and blue bird Tsubao perched on the rooftop, Hita waving down to me in the form of a black hair human with a red lion tail flicking around behind him. I chuckled at the ice phoenix and flame lion, they’d been a lot of help over the summer. Hita had watched over Tyler, and Tsubao had watched over Matt. Aralia had been assigned to Alex with Rulan, and Koreya had found his was to Lufarea’s house. Roval had taken up his post at Sarah’s house in my stead.
I have a lot of charges. The first of course, was Arne. Then there was Tsubao, an old ice phoenix around three hundred and forty. Hita was a flame lion about five hundred and thirty-six. Aralia was a bird of pure sound and wind, and Rulan was a young wood wolf. Roval was a water snake, and very lazy, unwilling to put much effort into anything really. Then there were thirty one others of less consequential note that you will likely get to know sooner or later.
Once more I would have to drag myself from the depths of my thoughts to register the teacher’s question about my name so I might retrieve my long awaited schedule. When the yellow sheet was at last handed to me, I turned and made way for the stage, back tracking along the marble floors of this rotten penitentiary.
It seemed that for one of the first times I could recall, I was there before any one else and was forced to take a seat on the plastic-like wooden steps to wait for them, recalling how many time before I’d sat in exactly the same place. This was where Tyler had first revealed to me that he was delving into the worlds of magic, and that he was dragging Matt and Alex along with him. Lufarea soon followed, and I had always been there from the start. It had been a truly entertaining point in time.
Sighing, my eyes found familiar faces in the crowd, but no one I cared to rush over to. My fingers drummed on the shiny surface beneath me, a familiar steady cl-cl-cl-clump ringing in my ears. Lufarea was the first to arrive, and I allowed her to believe that I didn’t know she was approaching me from behind, continuing to stare forward blankly and boardly.
I then felt light pressure pulling me back along my neck, and I didn’t struggle at first, feigning a weaker body than I had as I fell back into her. Then I twisted around, reminding her of my teeth with a light squeeze to her arm that would be sure to leave a bruise. Immediately the pressure was removed and I could here a happy cry of pain in my ear. Turning with a light laugh I embraced Lufarea with a rare display of affection.
She returned it, and took a step back to look me over, and after determining I had changed as little as her and her bright green eyes and bushy tightly curled brown hair, she asked me about my summer. Leaving out the constant trips to her house, I made a brief summary and returned the question to find hers had been just the same as I’d observed.
Next to arrive was Joanna, soon followed by Matt so that I could ask the both of them the same question after a brief exchange of greetings, unwilling to show any more affection to any one. The first hug had been impulsive and uncontrolled, now I was jut as violent and impassive as ever. No one had anything really that important happen to them over the summer that I didn’t already know about. Tyler, Amanda, Sarah, Claire, Alex and Shelbi were all the same. Beyond that, the arrivals were all new information that I didn’t even listen to any way.
Then we compared schedules, and I memorized every one else’s as well as my own, some how managing to keep them straight and separated, planning out the creatures I’d assign to each for their protection. Amanda, Claire, Joanna and Shelbi weren’t involved, but it was always better safe than sorry.
It seemed that I had AP history with Sarah, Shelbi, and Joanna. Joanna and Shelbi had English together, and the three of them met up again for science (biology). The whole of the group had managed to get B lunch one way or another.
Through out the course of the first day I made my decisions as was necessary based off of location and personality type of those involved. Within the same day I only had to be asked to be excused once to handle something while the others under my charge were all busy with others. And with over thirty creatures looking to you, for them all to be busy at once was saying something. Unfortunately though, I’d made their job even harder when I ordered them not to kill anything without explicit permission from me, or real danger to their lives.
To kill these creatures merely following orders would’ve been a very bad idea, indeed. After all, how would I have felt under the same circumstances to here that my charges were being killed off under my orders? Despite how this might knock some sense into the dunces that persisted in their attacks against the group, I was unwilling to inflict that kind of punishment upon them. So instead I only required a detainment and for them to be sent back to their own world later on by me.
Many days would pass in this boring way, with out any need for notation. They were quiet times within the classrooms, learning trivial pieces of information that either already knew or didn’t care about. Endless days of what seemed to be a very cruel form of punishment to me. It wasn’t until Halloween came around that things started to get interesting.

Here's something stupid from English:

The lunchroom shrieked and giggled in my ears, and the pungent scents of fried cheese and hot pizza spurred me on so that I flew from the door to the stairwell. I was rushed; I was panting; I was moving half a mile per hour because this school is like a can of live sardines. Faces swarmed past, too many to process, so many that my eyes swept over them carelessly and did not notice one until, right in front of me, a big smile in a black-curled frame seized my attention, and I smiled impulsively.

From the stage I could stare down to the end of the corridor, but the hall was empty. “This guy just smiled at me on the stairs.”
Claire only glanced at me. “Well, was he hot?”
“Yeah… I guess he was handsome…. But who was he? And why did he smile at me?”
“Just being friendly, probably.” And she went back to her grey chicken strips.
But the next day I was slower to leave class, more watchful of the faces around me. My chest felt compressed and I worried the first ten seconds that I wouldn’t see him again at all. But there he was, and, with a flash of white teeth, gone again. Well, this was insufferable! Every day, the same: this strange person would stroll past and SMILE at me!
My perplexity was such that would not remain silent. “Who ARE you?” I cried at last.
Well, he jumped about a foot in the air. “I’m Jay,” he managed to utter after a moment’s recovery. I was shocked at how high-strung he was.
With a laugh, I said, “And I’m Sarah. Hug?” My arms spread expectantly.
He looked at me suspiciously. “Okay….” Then, stiffly, a quick embrace with another smile, embarrassed, now; and shy goodbyes. I walked away laughing.
The next few days were much as before; we didn’t talk, only grinned and maybe said hello once or twice. That was until he turned around one day and he said to me in a voice far too interested: “So, what do you usually eat for lunch?”
This was obviously an insane way to start a conversation, yet I was keen to continue.
“What grade are you?”
“Junior,” he said; not senior, I smiled. Then he sighed and murmured (which he seemed to do frequently), “I wish I was a sophomore.”
“And what grade do you think I’m in?” I asked teasingly.
He cast his eyes up to the ceiling and said, in a much clearer voice, “Um, you’re a sophomore, right?”
“No, I’m a freshman.”
“Oh. You seem older.” Apparently I seem older.
So I was standing at the door a week or two later, bouncing on my toes with an eye turned to the corner. Suddenly a light came into my eyes and I called out a greeting.
He smiled back and said warmly, “Are you going to the party?”
To such an introduction I could only reply: “There’s a party?”
“Yeah. For the anime club. It’s going to be at my house.”
“Well, when’s it gonna be?”
The schedule was sometime after exams, to be clarified in a club-wide email to be sent by Friday. Only Friday came along, and there was no message. Then passed by Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. A whole, lovely week of furious impatience.
After the rise and fall of a dozen empires, the president saw fit to tell her club what the hell was going on and sent a brief message detailing the time and location. The former, turned out, was three days away.
That was okay. Probably most of the members checked their mail every couple of days, right? Then the president decided to send a second email one day early, this one explaining that the party was cancelled due to lack of response.
This was not okay. On the line, Jay was telling me this was done completely without his knowledge and very much against his will. He still wanted to do it, but nobody was going to come, no one except for two boys I didn’t know, Daniel, who had never paid his dues, and Meg, who could only stay an hour or two. Apparently that would have to do, because EVERYONE else was completely confused and had no idea what was when. And I had to give Dani a ride.
My mother took the directions. She studied them. She questioned them thoroughly and then eventually turned off the road in a shortcut so severe that I was shouting at her for the next six seconds until we found ourselves on the road outside the subdivision. A moment was spent puzzling over the gate mechanism before the calling system was sorted out and Daniel was saying, “Why hello thar, Jay.”
The activities were few and catered to the hobbies of everyone who wasn’t me. They consisted of these: taking turns playing Guitar Hero and watching other people take turns playing Guitar Hero. I was low on the floor, staring at the screen, at hairy boy feet, and at boy game-zombie faces. The buttons fired on the screen as they slid forward, Jay hardly ever missing a note until the end of his song. As he settled on the floor and I adjusted the strap across my shoulder I had to change the setting from “Expert” to “Easy”, and I felt embarrassed in front of these people whose free time was dedicated to the analog button.
The song started up, and I massacred the first few notes while I remembered how to move my fingers. A pair of bluish eyes stared up at me. “Oh nice strategy, Jay,” I said. “Stare at me until I’m distracted and mess up.” My index finger twitched at the wrong note. Still I managed to button-smash my way to a decent score, but I handed off almost immediately to Nathan, one of the two friends whom Jay was able to draft, a guy who, frankly, scared me. So I nestled alongside Jay and started talking. Random things, mostly. But something surfaced in my head, and I turned to him and said, “Why did you say you wanted to be a sophomore?”
“Because I love… Klein Oak.” He’d started without thinking, but he hesitated at the key object. My heart stopped pounding, and instead started dashing itself madly against my ribcage. There was not a chance I was going to say a one of my very loud thoughts. I frowned.
“I can’t say I feel the same. I had Mr. Bickley for English.” Distracting myself with horror stories of how completely insane THAT teacher had been was effective (I hoped) in masking the frenzied thoughts I was really struggling with. Still, as hours went by and we watched the others make high scores, a great bubble of happiness was filling my chest, and I heard more from Jay than either of us had said for the entirety of our earlier acquaintance.
And then there was a ring at the gate. It was Daniel’s mother, come to pick us up at the appointed time. “Oh, no,” I said. “Oh no, I don’t want to go.” But I had to go.
Only Jay came downstairs to see us off. “I don’t want to go,” I informed him a second time.
“I’m sure we’ll do something later this summer.”
The car was two headlights glaring impatiently up at us. We climbed in, me staring out the window while Daniel and his mother argued incessantly. When I got home, Mom said, “So how was it?”
I could only manage an uninformative “you know” falling into bed.
Summer melted away like vanilla ice cream while I stared down the walls, thinking about nothing and worrying about everything. The phone was at my fingers; the phone was miles away. Glowering at it, I pondered my own meaningless existence and the meaningless existences of others. My mind turned around philosophy and questions no one had asked me. But I was always fixed on that phone!
I only knew Jay from the hallways. I had only seen him once outside of school. I didn’t have privileges to call and say, “I just want to talk.”
The phone begged to differ. Or rather, I begged to differ and simply blamed it on the phone. Eventually I differed so strongly that I took the phone into my hands and started dialing-- 2-8-1…! It rang once. It rang twice. And then…
“Hello?”
“Hi! Jay! Um.”
“Oh hi Sarah.”
“…Wait, you knew it was me?”
“I know your number.”
“Oh, uh, wow, well!”
“I’ve been waiting for you to call all summer.”
My brain turned to water. “No way.”
Apparently yes way. Apparently yes way until eleven thirty in the evening. Apparently yes past eleven every night for three weeks. I told him about being hit in the face with a soccer ball and getting a nosebleed twice; He told me about sitting in class all day with a broken arm because the nurse said nothing was wrong with him. We talked about reality, religion, and dealing with people. I told him what I’d been thinking about for the past month and a half. He listened and gave thoughtful responses. He told me that he was a Stoicist and talked about his views of honor and responsibility. If something bad happened in any of the memories I related, I was sure to get at least one supportive inarticulation before he stated his opinion.
“Jay,” I said, “you are full of sympathetic noises!”
On occasion I was given to sigh hopelessly, and he’d ask me what was the matter. “Mmm, nothing,” I’d have to say, and the conversation moved on. But one day he didn’t let me stop at “nothing”.
“What’s the matter, Sarah?”
“Nothing, really.”
“You sound unhappy.”
“Well, the thing is, I’m frustrated.”
“Well what’s frustrating you?”
“Ah, now that I can’t say.”
“Come on, just say it.”
I wouldn’t just say it.
“Does it have to do with a friend?”
“Mmmm.”
“Are you having trouble talking to someone?”
“Not exactly…”
“Is there something you want to tell someone?”
“…Yes….” My heart sped up a little bit.
“Can’t you tell me anything about it?”
“Well, that would spoil the fun!” I turned it into a guessing game, tried to make it easier for myself. That game took longer than a round of Monopoly. He nearly guessed the truth so many times that I had to say something misleading to veer him off the trail. I wanted to say it more than I wanted anything, but I couldn’t; I was so terrified of the outcome.
“Your breathing changed.” He said that again several times during the interrogation. “Sarah, your breathing changed.” And then he asked, “Does it have something to do with me?” I could only answer yes.
At last I gave up and started to say, “My situation… is such that one feels as though everybody knows, everyone except the object of… it.”
“Oh.”
There wasn’t any point to this game anymore. I knew he knew, or if he didn’t, he never would. But I could tell he wasn’t going to say it first; I had to be brave, do it myself. My heart was in my mouth as I admitted, painfully, hopefully, fearfully, “I love you.”
He exhaled slightly and said, shyly but absolutely, “I love you, too.”

Mmm, yes... English...

Chaotic Similarites

Chaos has its own sort of order. It’s own way of falling into place… or at least that’s what Darla was thinking as she stood amidst the impossible creatures feuding all around her. Honestly, how had she managed to attract so much attention in such a short time? She shook her head, light golden hair moving in time with her sighs and expressions of exasperation.
Why were they all being so childish? Seriously, you’d think that after so many thousands of years of life they would be able to recognize some of the same basic truths within one another. Take for instance the European and Asian dragons bickering beneath the grand oak.
They had decided that since they were so different in appearance, they should be called something different. But neither was willing to concede to the name change, each feeling that they had more right to the original name than the other. The steady scents of sulfur that emenated from the area were quickly becoming noxious and Darla took a few steps further away. Seriously, why was it that they could just see that were almost exactly alike? Physically they were extremely different, one represent a large snake with legs, and the other like a fat lizard with a long neck.
But personality wise? They were all hot tempered when young, and yet so wise when they grew up. They all liked treasure and things, and each saw themselves as superior beings. But of course, they would never notice that, not when smoke was clouding their vision as it so often did.
Listening to them bicker was almost as annoying as listening to the elves. There were cobbler elves from those cute little stories about shoe making, each no taller than Darla’s palm was long, and the larger more elegant beings from more serious stories. The larger elves were trying to convince the smaller that they were merely a subspecies to the main branch which they represented. The smaller elves were convinced that the larger elves were simply freaks and as such should call themselves freaks for that was what they were.
Darla simply sighed. Foolish pointless arguments that only served to get the other party heated up and ready to fight… which Darla was hoping she wouldn’t get involved in. Though those goblins and ogres seemed about ready to rumble.
The gremlins and the gnomes bantered with all ill intent about who was more trouble some to the humans. The pixies and the faeries flattered themselves with praises of their beauty and challenged one another with displays of winged vanity. Kelpies targeted unicorns over who could lure humans close easiest, and who was best at defeating them.
Darla didn’t involve herself in any such argument though. To do so would be silly, she thought to herself repeatedly. It wasn’t worth her time, and besides, she was unique in herself. There weren’t many beings that could boast about being similar to her, and even less that could boast without proving themselves wrong in doing so.
Why had this meeting even been called? Oh, that was right. They wanted to catalogue all of the human ‘fairy tales’. Well hadn’t that just turned out marvelously?
She felt her ears twitch in the gust of wind as she bit back a snarl, casting a glare towards the area where the kitsune and imps argued about who could lure men into traps with their intelligence better.
Some argued over the namesake and others over who had the better of the trait that they had, but all were the same at heart. Watching them it was difficult to tell the difference between any of them if not for their forms.
Feathers floated down into her path as she stood to make her way to a less hazardous point in the field. Her gaze traveled up to find that the hippogriffs and wyverns were trying to prove who had the best aerial skills. All the same. Every last one of them.
So why was it so hard for them to see that? She shook her head, hear ears laying flat against her head. The gorgons and basilisks fought over who had the deadlier gaze. Dwarves and mermaids snarled at one another by the water’s edge in a heated debate over whose housing was more magnificent.
Darla merely sighed. You could pair up and two beings, no matter how different and they would find a similar point to argue over. So stupid.
She kicked at a rock as she passed by another quarreling group, her bare foot ending in a delicate hoof. Her legs bent at an odd direction, and her top half was bare of clothing. It wasn’t the way of her kind to wear clothing. Besides, she was proud of her form! The perfect mixture of man and beast. She flicked her tail passionately at the thought, tossing her head and the golden bangs with it, stamping one of her back legs. Yes, truly her kind couldn’t be matched. So why did she need to argue? She already knew what she was and how much she loved what she was. She was a centaur, pure and simple, and no one could argue that they were any better than she.
So she enjoyed herself instead. Why not take a run? Get away from this bickering clearing? She grinned tucking her face down in a preparation to bolt… then she caught some one’s gaze… a very particular some one… and anger mixed with resignation filled her features. How she hated satyrs. They were so ugly. A goat? Hah! What a laughable thing. To be melded with the legs of a goat. How pathetic.
“Hey! Stupid centaur! You can’t hunt worth nothin’!” The deplorable beast called. No, she couldn’t let that slide. She set her face into a determined mask of anger… and charged into what quickly became just another argument in the chaos of the field.

Originally Posted by Lurker-chan

Mmm, yes... English...

But it is from English; we HAD to write about something in our lives, and that was all I could think enough about to write out at the time. Even if I hate it now, it's one of two stories that are actually saved onto my computer.