hey

[Topazia]

would anybody be interested in reading a few excerpts from my books? not the whole things of course, both (at the most complete stage) are over 150 pages. would that be okay? I mean, I intend on publishing them in the future, but it's my work. I can just find the ones that have the least sexual stuff and drug stuff in them (and I never cuss in my stories). because my main one has a lot about child abuse in it...but I can find the least offensive stuff if need be. the first six chapters are relatively harmless.

[Horatio]

would anybody be interested in reading a few excerpts from my books? not the whole things of course, both (at the most complete stage) are over 150 pages. would that be okay? I mean, I intend on publishing them in the future, but it's my work. I can just find the ones that have the least sexual stuff and drug stuff in them (and I never cuss in my stories). because my main one has a lot about child abuse in it...but I can find the least offensive stuff if need be. the first six chapters are relatively harmless.

Please do post them. It would be excellent to read your work.

[Topazia]

would anybody be interested in reading a few excerpts from my books? not the whole things of course, both (at the most complete stage) are over 150 pages. would that be okay? I mean, I intend on publishing them in the future, but it's my work. I can just find the ones that have the least sexual stuff and drug stuff in them (and I never cuss in my stories). because my main one has a lot about child abuse in it...but I can find the least offensive stuff if need be. the first six chapters are relatively harmless.

Please do post them. It would be excellent to read your work.

ok, I'll search for decent excerpts

[Horatio]

would anybody be interested in reading a few excerpts from my books? not the whole things of course, both (at the most complete stage) are over 150 pages. would that be okay? I mean, I intend on publishing them in the future, but it's my work. I can just find the ones that have the least sexual stuff and drug stuff in them (and I never cuss in my stories). because my main one has a lot about child abuse in it...but I can find the least offensive stuff if need be. the first six chapters are relatively harmless.

Please do post them. It would be excellent to read your work.

ok, I'll search for decent excerpts

Great! Thanks!!!

[Topazia]

ok, first excerpt is NOT from my main book. It's an aside, a practice if you will, from my superhero series.

Tad Sheikourj

Tad Sheikourj, now 23, is writing down his most vivid memories of childhood. He has been researching his and his father’s journals for solid facts. Tad’s father was very violent when Tad was a child, and the two strong-willed men were constantly fighting.

Scott recently went through a change of heart when he realized just how badly he had wronged his son. Scott began to feel curious about his son’s beliefs and started to read the Bible a little bit, in secret. He found the words truthful and oddly comforting, so he looked into several non-Biblical texts to compare claims.

Scott dropped out of the Communist Party, and Tad saw the startling difference a lack of influence made for his father’s temperament. Tad enjoyed the sudden lenience his father displayed, but was still cautious with his actions and words when religion was brought up.

Scott was known, by family and close friends, to be just as avid about Commu-nism as Tad was about Christianity. The man’s decision to convert startled everyone, most of all Scott himself. Scott was later heard to say that he “would never have thought it possible” that he would “make the right choice” about Christianity. Tad was relieved that his father had at last come around.

A Broken Promise||Age 12

My face was on fire. Dad had really hurt me this time. I couldn’t think, couldn’t move… I was barely breathing, still too shocked and afraid to catch my breath. I was hiding in the only safe place in the house: the attic.

Perhaps I should explain. Until the beginning of my senior year, my father and I had been in a true battle of willpower. I used to think he was the stronger of the two of us. I realized, however, that I knew stuff that he did not. For example, I knew that, as a child, I could outmaneuver him by listening to my instincts. This would prove vital in the years to follow that revelation.

 

Back to the past. Dad had broken the one promise I was glad he made. He said he would never kill me. He said he couldn’t do it. Tonight, however, he had been drinking and tried to stab me! I moved out of the way, but he caught my sleeve. As soon as it was over, Dad realized what he’d just done.

 

“Oh, Tad…” Dad had whispered regretfully. I just bolted up to the attic. And people wonder why I used to be reclusive! Dad had tried to go after me, but Mom stopped him after a few steps. She tried to get his attention, but failed as Dad shrugged her off.

 

Which brings us back to the attic. After a few long minutes of me hiding, the attic door opens. I block my eyes from the light before recovering.

 

“Tad, I know you’re up here…” Dad’s coarse whisper rattled me and almost knocked me out of the rafter where I was hiding.

 

“You broke your promise, sir!” I said as I threw my voice. Dad looked around for me, upset.

 

“I know. I swear, I didn’t mean to, Tad! I’m sorry!” He spoke truthfully. I continued to throw my voice to hide my body from him.

 

“Yeah, so am I, Dad! You’re drunk right now, so I’m not coming out until I’m good and ready! Sober up a bit, and maybe I’ll come out! Until then, I’m staying here until I’m tired.” Dad sat on the edge of the hole from whence he came. He looked kinda funny, really.

 

“Tad, I swear, it was an accident. You’re right, I’m drunk, but I swear it was an accident.” I was unconvinced, but I stopped throwing my voice.

 

“You keep trying to convince me, but it just isn’t working, Dad. Now why do you think that is?” I asked sarcastically. A look of desperation started to show on his droll face as he heard this.

 

“I couldn’t kill you if I wanted to, Tad!” That one brought a sour laugh from my direction. Dad winced when he heard the disbelief.

 

“Oh, yeah? Why am I any different from your friends way back in England? What is my saving grace to you? That I’m your only child? Who gives a d+++!?” He blinked at the biting tone of my voice, unaccustomed to the retorts I’d been saving in a basket in my closet. Tonight was not going to end well, but I didn’t care.

Snapping!||Age 13

I can’t take it anymore! Dad is being a bigger jerk than ever! I am fit to be tied right now because of him! It’s been a year since Minda’s accident, and Dad is completely drunk! I hate this life! I hate this stupid, violent family, I hate this echoing old house, and I hate this confounded responsibility of keeping quiet about my sister!

 

It’s too much! I told Scott the day Minda got hurt to never disgrace her name, or I’d kill him, and what does he do? He swears on his daughter’s grave that I’ll never make it past high school! That daughter is my late twin sister, Melinda Katherine Sheikourj! It’s a disgrace!

 

I can’t kill him, though. I could never kill my father. I love him. But I hate my life, and he does too, so I can kill myself! He wouldn’t do anything to Mom ever again!

 

But… then they would be sad, because I was dead. They wouldn’t have any more kids. Mom can’t have any more children, so the Sheikourj name would stay bad. I don’t want Mom to be sad for me. This is just to get back at Dad, not to hurt her!

 

I’m in the bathroom. Dad’s razor is on the shelf. I don’t know what to do! What do I want to do more? Should I hurt my father or help my mom? I only have a few more seconds to decide what to do. I don’t know if a few more days will end this whole battle between Dad and me.

 

A warm drop falls on my arm. I’m crying?! I didn’t know that! I can’t do this! It’s too selfish of me. I throw the razor on the floor to make it look like an accident.

 

The next day, Mom brings me to the supermarket to get a watch. It’s really cool looking, because it’s both digital and analog.

 

It’s been ten years since I tried to slit my wrist. I’m lucky to be alive. When I told my best friend, E’Ann, I realized how much I’d grown. Too many teenagers and children today are pushed to suicide. I was thirteen. I wasn’t the youngest, though.

 

Parents, be kind to your children. Children, obey your parents. Please, watch your friends and look for signs of trouble. A bruise isn’t always what it seems. It is sometimes much more insidious.

Pillow Fight||Age 14

I woke up to a pillow being shoved in my face last night at around three. Thinking quickly, I turned my head to the side for some breathing room. I fought back for about two seconds before realizing it was my father, drunk as usual. So, I fought for a few long moments before playing dead, now quite at ease with holding my breath. My father lifted the pillow away, waking up from his alcohol-induced daze as he realized what he’d done.

 

“Oh, s---!” Scott whispered. I kept a blank face on, but I wanted to deck him right there. Scott checked my breathing, but I continued to hold my breath. I was aching for clean air, but I couldn’t respire or he’d really kill me. Scott, being the med school drop out he is, tried to give mouth to mouth, but I lost composure a split second before. I began coughing, so he rolled me over. My father was obviously relieved, though I had no clue why.

 

“Are you all right, son?” He asked. I rolled over to look at him, glaring. I knew it was he who had done it to me.

 

“Get out of my room, old man.” I replied calmly, a very dangerous glint shining in my eyes. Scott hesitated, triggering the trained instinct I had forced myself to develop for Melinda’s and my sake.

 

“Ouch!” Scott yelped in reply to my open fist making contact with his jaw. “What was that for?” I sat up, very angry at his behavior.

 

“You just tried to smother me, and then you didn’t leave when I told you to. You know there are repercussions for that!” I hissed indignantly. Scott rolled his eyes.

 

“I was waking you up.” He countered, a vain attempt to defend himself.

 

“Say my name, and I’ll get up, sir. You were not waking me up.” Scott glared at me, a bit stung by the truth, and then he pulled me out of bed. I fought back and managed to lock him out of my room.

 

“Let me in, Tad.” He tried to turn the knob enough to open the door, but was too drunk to use any coordination.

 

“Fat chance! ¡Si usted piensa que permitiré que usted apoye en mi dormitorio después que lo que usted acaba de hacer a mí, usted es ñoño, Papá! You just tried to kill me, and you’re drunk! What makes you think I’ll open this door and let you mess with me again? I’m afraid I don’t respect that, sir!” Respect is a big deal to him. He growled a little bit, and I held the door shut while he rammed it. Thanks to physics, I won the fight over which side of the door he would be on.

 

“Tad, please let me in.” I was still bracing the door. I just shook my head angrily in reply to his plea.

 

“Nope. Not gonna happen, Dad. Go to bed; there’s no use fighting through a closed door, correct?” That got through to him. Dad went away, and I went back to bed till morning shone through the window.

A Very Good Thing||Age 15

I was reading a book in the den (family room, living room, whatever.), on the couch, when Dad came over. Not again, I thought, bracing myself for the inevitable. But he just sat down. That’s a first. “Are you feeling alright, Dad?” He turned to me and nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine, why?” I gave him a look. “You’re not hitting me.” Dad blinked, a bit surprised. “Of course I’m not. You didn’t do anything wrong. That a good book?” I nodded. “Yup. The best I’ve ever read. You wouldn’t like it.” That spiked his curiosity. “How do you know that? What’s the title?” I just looked at him blankly before returning to the page. “You’ll have to trust me on it, sir. Our differing viewpoints guarantee you wouldn’t enjoy this.” I wasn’t in the mood for a fight, and he knew it. Dad nodded a little. “What’s it about?” I sighed. I had no choice. “I’m reading the Bible, Dad. I have no intention of stopping, either.” He just shrugged, and I looked up. “Hitting you isn’t going to stop you, so why try? Why don’t you ever hit back?” I marked my spot and turned back to Exodus 20. “Honor thy father and mother. Ergo, don’t hit Dad back. In Ephesians 6, Paul says, ‘Fathers do not exasperate your children. Instead, bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord.’ In Colossians 3, he says, ‘Fathers do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged.’ In Matthew 5, Jesus says to ‘turn the other cheek,’ too. Do you even know the whole thing about Christianity?” Dad held my gaze. I was still tense for a fight. Ding! The oven interrupted us. “Dinner is ready. I won’t hit you tonight, Tad. I promise.” I smiled and washed up before joining him and Mom at the table. Dad never breaks a promise to me. “How was school, sweetie?” I looked up at Mom to answer. “I got an A on my science test today. I don’t have any homework, be-cause I finished it all in class, in addition to my class work. Other than that, it was quite boring.” Mom gave me a look. “Don’t you have something to tell your father?” I blinked, and he looked to me. “Oh? Oh, yeah! Our Health teacher got arrested for lewd acts to-ward minors today. He was bugging some of the cheerleaders, and one of them knew karate. It’s a shame, really. He was a great teacher.” Dad smiled a little. “Mr. Mayhew shouldn’t have done that. I’m not his lawyer.” I turned to him seriously, slightly upset. “It shouldn’t matter who represents him. I saw it, I could testify. I won’t, though, because I’m too busy. Exams are coming up, and I don’t need more on my mind.” That was a hint to Dad not to hit me. He caught my eye and noticed the demand. “Okay, no problem.” I shifted in my seat. This was new! “Are you sure you’re okay, Dad?” He nods slightly. “Yes.” I looked at him carefully, a bit wary of the change. “Then what’s up?” He gave me a sour look. “Please, Tad.” He ran out of beer. In reality, I dumped it. He could go without alcohol for the rest of his life, for all I cared. Then I realized why he was acting real. Dad was sober. At home, he was sober. That was a very good thing.

Curiosity Can Be Good||Age 16

*Tad: My dad is changing. He isn’t hitting me as much, and he’s becoming more accept-ing of my beliefs. This isn’t like him at all. Last night, I found him reading a Bible I had stowed in the attic. He claims he was cleaning out up there and was wondering what it was. When I asked how long he’d been looking at it, he shrugged and set the book down, open. This morning, when I went up there to get a box, the Bible was gone. I found it on his nightstand. I left it there, because he could use the Message.

*Scott: I’m trying to change. I don’t deserve a great kid like Tad, and he doesn’t deserve to be pushed around. He’s staring to catch on. Last night, I was messing around in the attic and came across one of his Bibles. He caught me looking through it, so I told him I was wondering what it was. That’s not a lie. He asked me how long I had been looking at it, but I just shrugged the question off and set the book down. Later on, I came back to the book to try and figure out why Tad is so avid about this stuff. Tad quotes the Bible more than I thought.

---

*Tad: This evening, I found the Bible back in the attic. I just smiled and brought it down. I found Dad in the den and paused. He put it back upstairs because he didn’t want me to know he’d been reading it. That realization brought a smile to my face as I brought the Bible to him. I set it on the table beside him before walking off. “Keep it, Dad.” I turned to see his surprised face, and another smile escaped me. He needs it more than I do, so why not give him a Bible he’s obviously curious about?

*Scott: What was that about? Tad just gave me that Bible. I didn’t have a clue as to what to do with it, so after a while, I just set it on my nightstand. Tad was wrong when he said I wouldn’t enjoy reading it. It is interesting, and the words ring true. Maybe I was wrong about Christianity. Maybe Tad was right. Maybe I should apologize? No, I can’t. That would be admitting I was wrong the entire time. We both know I was, but I won’t admit it.

---

*Tad: I think Dad’s pride is lessening. He isn’t drinking as much, and he’s starting to relax a little. He used to be so wooden, but now, he’s becoming a little more lenient eve-ryday. It’s hard to notice, but it’s definitely there. I don’t think he realizes this, but he’s starting to quote the Bible. That means he’s been reading it. My decision to give the Book to him was not in vain, after all. Thank goodness.

*Scott: I no longer consider myself a Communist. It doesn’t make sense to me anymore. It is a good thing I was not active, or I’d be dead by now. The Communist Party can’t afford to let “double-crossers” live. I received a letter yesterday saying to watch my back. I simply wrote back, saying I couldn’t turn that far anymore. That’s probably going to get me in trouble, but I don’t care anymore. I don’t think it’s worth lying to my family and friends, and myself, just to “prevent” something that’s going to hap-pen anyway. Besides, as long as they don’t mess with Lecia or Tad, I can take it. However, if anyone even tries to touch my family, I will probably end up putting them in the hospital, if I don’t kill them. No one messes around with my wife and son… Now, not even me.

[note: Tad's mom is Latina. What he said in Spanish was basically, "if you think I'll let you into my bedroom after what you just did to me, you're senile, Dad!" I hope it's not too graphic; I'm fairly certain I was more specific when I posted the thing for the ZombieCat campaign than here.]

[Horatio]

You are a really talented writer. This is superb! Very moving and very powerful!

Please do give us more to read.

[Topazia]

Tom’s Secret

By Tomas Cleary

 

When Tom was a child, he faced many physical obstacles. His heart and lungs sometimes stopped working, leaving him with a constantly cyanotic appearance. Tom learned to control it by staying hydrated. In some ways, Tom needed water more than anything, because the sudden coldness shocked his system into working again. Swim-ming also provided the necessary “shock treatment.”

As Tom grew older, he was determined to surpass the other children so that they wouldn’t suspect the insidious heart defect’s existence. As far as Tom was concerned, the problem was only another game to be won, a kind of constant opponent to boost his crea-tivity. That is, until Tom fell out of a tree and broke his neck. The only thing that saved his mobility was a grim determination to get better and a passionate, fiery anger toward weakness and infirmity.

Tom used a self-control unknown to most nine-year-olds to move and recover from the usually fatal predicament. As soon as he could move, Tom then directed his un-usual ability to control things toward his lungs. For four long years, Tom forced himself to gain control over the unpredictable time bomb most called the diaphragm. He slowly learned to predict when a cardiopulmonary arrest was about to occur, signaling a vital victory over the handicap Tom refused to accept.

As in all quick fixes, Tom’s water solution didn’t always work. Sometimes, he’d have to go home and find the life-saving epinephrine. Only a few people knew about Tom’s heart, and he refused to wear a medic-alert bracelet, so only Tom knew what to do in the case of an arrest. If he didn’t get home in time, he would die. If he took too little or too much, he would die. Tom learned that the hard way.

Tom was a loner. In a way, this was out of necessity. It was mostly pride, but a lit-tle bit of necessary precaution. When he was alone, there was no stress to raise his pulse and blood pressure to the point where his heart stopped. But if he was alone, there was no one to help if it happened too far from water or his home. Tom didn’t get out of the house much as a result of the dangers.

As Tom enhanced his control, he noticed that he could control other things, also. Things that weren’t part of his body. He discovered this one day when he told a cat to lie down, and it did. He then told the cat to sit on the chair, and it did. Tom, his curiosity piqued, told the cat to meow twice, and it did. The sixteen-year-old frowned in thought, suddenly wondering what it was like to be a cat. He called the furry creature over to talk to it, as he was alone that day and wouldn’t be judged.

“What’s it like, mate? How’s life for a cat?” Tom looked into the cat’s eyes for comprehension and found none. “He’s a cat, Tom. Grow up.” As Tom scolded himself, he realized that he really wanted to know what being a cat was like. The strange curiosity would end up confusing one of his friends in high school.

Just for kicks, he imagined himself as a lanky black tomcat, knowing that was what he looked like in real life. Tom could identify with the skinny street cats he’d seen around the city, especially downtown. They were outcasts among their own kind, skinny, and usually sick. Yes, Tom could see himself. It was a bit humorous to him that these stunted waifs that no one cared about had become his closest comrades. The connections between the boy and the animal on the porch beside him were very uncanny.

In many ways, Tom was just like a cat. He was aloof, often detached because of his love of thinking, and when Tom was angry, he’d try to run before too much happened for his faulty heart. Tom was cautious and reclusive, also because of the cursed demon in his chest. He was also more primal, listening to his instincts to survive. As a result, he was about as dependant as a young, bold tom. It made sense to Tom.

Tom’s fascination with the experiences of others only increased as he matured into a young man, as did his talents for control. He worked at harnessing the full power of his mind, trying to figure out just what made him so able despite his condition. Tom was fast, strong, and smart, and broke every school record except slowest pulse after the mile run. That was a student-run record book, obviously.

Tom’s friend Tad, one of the few people he felt like getting to know, had broken that record, that is, until the boy’s new girlfriend came to Minneapolis. She surprised eve-ryone, because she skipped three grades. But E’Ann didn’t look her age. Tad had skipped one grade, as well. He, E’Ann and Tom had an inside joke going that Tom was jealous, but they all knew he couldn’t stand the thought of dating E’Ann.

Tom used every moment of spare time to exercise his mind. What was initially a curiosity about the human brain and the thoughts and memories of others had, quite hon-estly become a bit of an obsession with learning. Tom read every book he could find, but didn’t like the thought of being a bookworm, so he just checked out books from the li-brary. He also made up impossibly difficult math problems and solved them in his head to improve his mathematical skills. He wrote thesis papers on anything and everything that occurred to him, too.

When he had finished reading the books that could be checked out, Tom started in on the reference books. He read very quickly, and he really was interested in everything to learn, so he finished the reference books within a few months. Still curious, but with nothing to learn, Tom turned to his parents’ college textbooks. He also read all of the re-ligious texts, learning six foreign languages in the process.

In the midst of all this, Tom still fought with his heart’s tendency to suddenly stop beating. He still had to go to a hospital every six months to keep track of it. He still had the water intake of four purist athletes. He was also still single. Tom’s secrecy kept the girls at a safe distance, even though he hated being so lonely. His pride kept it from showing, though.

After Tom had finished reading all educational and theological books in the lan-guages he’d taught himself, he had a pretty clear idea on where the world was in his time frame. He also decided that Christianity had the most truth of all the religions, even Zoroastrianism. Tom had had to learn a dead language to read that, and he also had to convince the museum director to let him have a closer look at their replica of the Zoroas-trian text. That was the hardest part of studying the dead religion of Zoroastrianism, be-cause he had figured out how to translate quickly.

Tom’s incessant curiosity brought him to the realization that he could do more with his mind than most thought possible. At any given moment, Tom was using almost thirty percent of his brain, three times more than the average human. He tested himself constantly, thinking up math problems and using Socratic Method to figure out the uni-verse. He often wished for something new, some great new discovery to happen so that he could learn about that instead of the same old mathematical principals and theorems that haunted his dreams at night. Tom was getting bored with learning.

So he rested, using his knowledge instead of increasing it. Tom wrote poetry and prose, often about the dark thoughts he’d had almost all his life. He also learned how to play guitar, putting some of his work to music. It was the one thing he really learned for almost a year. The break from learning refreshed his thirst for knowledge, and Tom quickly learned the rest of the instruments to pass time until he could find something new to wrap his mind around for once.

Tom maintained a quiet exterior so that no one would disturb his secretive passion for learning. He was quiet in class and dressed in muted tones, if any color. He would dis-tance himself from socialite kids and preferred to hang with a less accepted crowd, one that enjoyed rocking out and getting stoned. Tom never participated in the latter, but only social rejects heard him laugh and saw him smile. Until E’Ann came.

She somehow managed to get him to open up and display the wry sense of humor he kept hidden. Tom avoided her in order to stay the same as he was, and as a result, he stopped hanging out with his cousin, Amy. It hurt, but he felt it a necessary sacrifice to remain steady in his way of life. The kids he hung out with pressured him to try drugs, but the willful teenager returned with equal pressure on them to quit. So they stopped spending time with him. Tom started to have the dark, depressing thoughts again, and he hated that. He was slipping back into weakness, and he knew it.

Tom’s heart was acting up more often, too. The water wasn’t lasting long enough, and only he and E’Ann knew why. Tom wouldn’t let her help him out, though. He fig-ured that, if he was really doomed to live and die with this curse, he’d just let it be. But Tom knew that wasn’t an option if he wanted to overcome every one of his enemies, and that flawed heart of his was the biggest one. Tom’s pride started to crumble, further weakening his defenses against a cardiopulmonary arrest, where his heart and lungs froze up. He warmed up a little to E’Ann, talking to her if she decided to walk home with him, and eventually relaxed enough to smile around her.

Having that specific girl for a friend ended up saving Tom’s life. E’Ann was very kind, making up for her annoying persistence, and bugged him into letting her help him out a few weeks before graduation. The sudden help proved to be exactly what the doctor would have ordered, had he known who E’Ann was, and knew her lineage.

Tom and E’Ann shared a secret, one that could get E’Ann and her family in a lot of trouble, and Tom knew it well, as he hid the same secret, so he kept it for the girl. She never suspected him to be any more than a strange, secretly talented teen, and Tom in-tended on keeping it that way, at least, until they were all out of college. He kept the dark secret for almost five years, until his girlfriend teased it out. They had been talking, and it was clear that she wouldn’t care about what that secret was, just that she wanted to know a little bit more about the man she was dating.

“That’s it?” She had asked after he told her. “Gee whiz, baby, I thought it would be something sinister, the way you always act guilty about it!” Tom had only smiled, ex-tremely amused. His girlfriend was very sweet and incurably curious, similar to E’Ann, only his age, and much more likable to the tall, quiet-loving boy.

After E’Ann helped him, Tom’s heart was completely normal. He felt indebted to the girl, and he hated it. E’Ann always tried to blow it off, saying it was “unimportant” and that she was “just helping a friend out.” Tom eventually gave up. He figured it wasn’t worth lowering his walls to thank her every time he saw her. Tom also stopped teasing Tad about E’Ann, because he knew Tad really loved the girl.

[Horatio]

[ Outstanding!!! Please continue! ]

[Topazia]

Susan walked down the road in soft silence, a blank stare piercing the darkness before her. She told nobody to smile, because it would keep them healthy and strong. Nobody answered back, why thank you, I will, and Susan felt the emptiness of the world around her begin to thicken, cutting off her last hope for happiness.

 

Susan felt her body pause, testing the darkness for light. There was none. Susan contin-ued to walk down the street in the thin, pale green gown with which she was coerced to grace her body. The gown reached only to her knees, which was torture to the false prin-cess’s modest consciousness.

 

Susan watched her feet step over hard, rocky asphalt as she crossed the intersection to the other corner. She watched her soles bruise and callous from the unyielding stress put upon them. Susan felt her link to reality slip away and knew that nothing could ever re-trieve it. Susan’s will to live vanished, so she knelt. Her legs were very cold, but Susan no longer cared about physical discomfort. Her body was not worth saving.

 

Susan looked down at her pale hands as they melted. She almost screamed, but it did not hurt. That is, it hurt quite much, but she liked it. Susan knew in her heart, what was left of it, that she was dying. Susan felt a small pain, but it failed to make an idea in her mind to stop letting go.

 

Susan looked up in a last burst of curiosity just before she completely relaxed in death, and she blinked. That was not supposed to be there. Above her, Susan was met with the image of a young man with sad, gentle eyes. She stared at him for a long time. The man was so sad, but he seemed to be urging her to keep fighting. Susan thought to herself that the man asked something impossible. She knew she was too far gone.

 

Nevertheless, the man’s glow of liberation was alluring. Susan looked at him again for a time, knowing she could never be a part of the splendor he represented. The man’s face turned to anguish, and blood flowed from his scalp. His wrists exploded, and his ankles, spraying warm blood over Susan’s face. A growing bloodstain marred the man’s robes at his chest, and a dark red puddle grew steadily at the man’s feet. Susan felt the man’s tor-ment and wept, but still refused to get up.

 

The man’s agony continued, and his breathing became labored as he progressed toward death. Susan watched as the shadow of a soldier pointed and laughed, proudly displaying the weapons that produced the man’s injuries. It looked like a spear and a hammer. As the soldier grew more visible, Susan saw that it was female, and she thought she recognized her. As Susan stared, her heart leapt into her throat: the soldier was Susan, and she was jeering and taunting the man who, without her realizing it, had outstretched his arms, and was shirtless. At last, Susan realized what was going on.

 

Susan awoke in the hospital an instant later, knowing she had just met the only one who could save her life. She cried loudly, begging the air for forgiveness. The dream had put a bright fire in Susan’s heart, and she knew, deep within, that she was finally healed, and nobody could ever be rejected in the assembly of the well.

 

I love this one.

[Topazia]

The sky grew dark as the wind started howling and the dogs barked loudly at the air.

No rain had fallen that entire decade and no one knew what would happen there.

The dogs fell silent and the wind grew calm, but the sky remained dark as stone.

Children peeked out at the ominous sight while staying safe behind closed windows.

A distant flash of light and a rumbling noise marked a tree in the forest beyond.

A single drop of rain fell slowly to the earth, and the lone man walking looked on.

The last in a line of powerful kings, the man knew his lineage well,

but he never let pride interfere with his life, for the man knew the tale he had to tell.

The lone man walking paused to test the air, remaining silent as a mouse stalking cheese.

He smiled at his answer as he put his bag down, and he drew from it a pair of keys.

He also took some string through which he threaded the two keys, and then he sat down on the ground.

At first, he only swayed, and the rain delayed, but soon his voice began to resound.

The pure, rich notes, put together, made a song, a song that would change the people’s lives.

As they heard the man’s words, the village people gasped, and their eyes went wide in surprise.

The man spoke of love, and of a world left behind, and he spoke of truth and honor.

He sang of great wisdom, of glory, of strength, and he spoke above all of great power.

He sang of his friend, a strong compatriot, who was filled with deep-set love.

The lone man walking also sang about himself, and how he was a gift from above.

The lone man walking is an allegorical tale of Gods love. Below is the interpretation:

1. The sky grew dark – the fall of mankind
   
2. Wind started howling - tempation ever present
   
3. Dogs barking loudly at the air – prophets
   
4. No rain… decade – no prophets for a long time
   
5. No one knew… there – none were prepared
   
6. Dogs fell silent – no more prophets
   
7. Wind grew calm – sin was acceptable
   
8. Sky… stone – Evil was still there
   
9. Children… closed windows – Pharisees watched carefully
   
10. Distant flash of light – star in sky (Christmas)
    
11. Rumbling noise – shepherds, wise men, angels
    
12. Tree… forest beyond – young Jesus or Mary and Joseph
    
13. Single drop of rain – Jesus in Jerusalem
    
14. Slowly to the earth – Simeon blesses Jesus in Jerusalem
    
15. Lone man… looked on – Jesus coming into his own
    
16. Last in line… kings – see Matthew 1: 1-17
    
17. Man knew…well – Jesus knew his role
    
18. Never let pride… life – servant king
    
19. Man knew… tell – Jesus knew he was sent to die for us
    
20. Lone man… test the air – gentile woman seeks His help, Jesus does so
    
21. Silent… cheese – remains innocent his entire life, stigma put on him
    
22. He smiled… answer – Jesus saw his purpose and embraced it
    
23. He put his bag… keys – 1 key = 6 disciples x 2 = the twelve
    
24. String… the two keys – string = the truth and word, keys = the twelve
    
25. Sat down on the ground – Jesus in the garden or Jesus’ last dinner
    
26. At first he swayed – the wine (not in chronological order)
    
27. Then the rain delayed – all the traveling He and the twelve did
    
28. Voice began to resound – Pharisees took notice as more people started following Jesus
    
29. Pure rich notes… song – miracles made up Jesus’ life
    
30. Song… change… lives – Jesus life and death saved our lives!
    
31. As they heard … with surprise – Pharisees, Jews and gentiles all saw Jesus for who he was in the end. Cool, huh?
    
32. The man spoke of love – Jesus talked a lot about love
    
33. A world left behind – heaven
    
34. Truth and honor – Jesus spoke of these often
    
35. He sang of great wisdom – God has great wisdom, wouldn’t you say?
    
36. Of glory… strength – Jesus spoke of these often
    
37. Above all… great power – importance of believing or you go to ####
    
38. Sang of friend… compatriot – “God is my homeboy” JCA
    
39. Filled… deep set love – “For God so loved the world” John 3:16
    
40. The lone man walking – Jesus!
    
41. Also sang about himself – “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life, Nobody comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6
    
42. How he was a gift from above – “For God so loved the world, he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” John 3:16
    

[Topazia]

[woohoo an excerpt from my big book that doesn't inlude TOO much stuff. Sorry if it seems abstract, it's on pages 370-372 or something like that...(ben GUY is proper pronunciation.) Basically Bengai is the emperor's father, Melissa is his girlfriend, and Jarrod is the drug seller that Bengai used to purchase from. Athena is the main character of the book...ok one of them. Sabrina is Bengai's exwife. I think that sums up the character sheet.]

 

Bengai left Melissa’s home after walking her back from the same movie Theo and Carlos had watched. He was smiling softly. Things were looking up, and even his relationship with his father had begun to improve as of late. Life is good, he thought serenely as he walked home.

 

Then he saw his old dealer walking down the street. Bengai turned around, but the man had already spotted him. The former ruler felt the sudden pain as a craving set on.

 

“My Dear sir,” called the young man, walking with the confident saunter of a drug dealer, which was reasonable, as that was what he was, and had been for many years. Bengai frowned and turned, ignoring the pain in his gut as best he could, with the cause right in front of him.

 

“Yes, Jarrod?” He answered calmly. The smooth talker in front of him smiled slickly.

 

“How’ve you been, sir? I haven’t seen you in months. Is there a reason for the extended absence of my best customer?” Jarrod asked. Bengai blinked without expression at the question.

 

“I’m fine. I quit.” He told the man bluntly, bringing about a shocked reaction from Jarrod, understandably.

 

“You what? Surely you miss it?” He asked incredulously. Bengai nodded honestly, seeing no reason to lie to him. “Surely you are in constant discomfort now?” Bengai nodded again. “You know that can go away with a small amount?” Bengai smiled in disbelief.

 

“Trust you to work at me. I know what I’m doing, Jarrod. I chose to quit five months ago, and I’m glad I did. Yes, I miss it. I long for it with every ounce of my being every second of the dapex. But,” he paused, emphasizing the “but”. “I will never partake in it again.” Jarrod thought for a moment before producing some finely powdered heroin.

 

“Are you sure, dear sir? It’s on me.” He offered smoothly. Bengai looked at the fiendish temptation for a long moment. He turned and looked at Melissa’s house only a few yards away. He thought of Ben and Theo, and how Frank/Mitch/whatever had also been addicted to heroin. Bengai turned back to Jarrod blankly, knowing what he would say to the young man before him.

 

“I’m sure.” Bengai told him, and walked away, leaving the shameful secret behind him. Jarrod blinked in surprise as he watched Bengai’s back recede. Little did he realize how hard the man was fighting not to turn around at the free ticket to “happiness.” Bengai was sweating under the pressure, and his stomach was in so much pain it felt as thought it were on fire hot enough to melt glass.

 

Jarrod walked away, somehow respecting the former ruler, but not really knowing why. Bengai refused to look back, knowing that, if he did, he would break a promise he’d made to eight different people. He could not afford to do that.

 

“My family is too important. Melissa is too important.” Bengai real-ized what he’d said a moment after the words exited his mouth. “Listen to me. I’ve grown up. When did that happen?” He muttered aloud, not expecting anyone to answer him. However, even in a city the size of Sidhe, there are bound to be chance meetings.

 

“You grew up when you decided to leave supremacy with a clear mind, sir.” The girl told him calmly, speaking civilly to him for the first time in a very long time. Bengai turned to a smiling face and immediately wished he hadn’t spoken aloud.

 

“Good eventide, Athena.” He greeted formally, fighting off a wave of nausea. Athena grinned, knowing what he was feeling.

 

“Good eventide. It just occurred to me, I’ve never apologized for…” Her voice trailed off at the expression in Bengai’s eyes.

 

“I deserved it. You don’t need to apologize, little one. The only person who should ever apologize to me already has.” The man told her softly, knowing he spoke the truth. Athena thought for a moment before making the connection to Sabrina, but she only shrugged in reply, still slightly uncomfortable around him.

 

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later, sir.” Athena’s cheerful smile helped decrease Bengai’s discomfort, but he knew it was for all the wrong rea-sons. Athena walked away, knowing Ben would be along soon.

 

“I’ll see you later. Grow up, Bengai.” The growling self-reprimand brought him back down to Mertha, as he still struggled with the side effects of heroin’s mind-altering attributes. “Eighteen. Remember that, old man.” The dark utterances reminded him painfully of Sabrina, the woman he couldn’t shake. Bengai broke out running, desperate to escape his past. Too many aspects had come up in too short a time period.

 

On the way, he ran into Sabrina. She was sporting a cast. Bengai paused, knowing he probably shouldn’t, for fear of breaking his promise to forget her.

 

“Are you alright, Sabrina?” He asked cautiously. Sabrina looked up at him silently.

 

“I will be. You aren’t the only one who’s grown up since back then, you know. I’m going home. Goodbye, Bengai.” She told him before walking away. The man stood there, dumbfounded that the cunning beauty had let herself fall into harsh treatment.

[Topazia]

how were those, H?

[Horatio]

how were those, H?

My apologies, I thought I had commented. You are getting better and better as a writer. Those were wonderful, moving and very insightful.

[Topazia]

how were those, H?

My apologies, I thought I had commented. You are getting better and better as a writer. Those were wonderful, moving and very insightful.

Thanks, they're among my favorites

[Topazia]

I wonder if anyone else but horatio reads this.

[Horatio]

I wonder if anyone else but horatio reads this.

Look at the number of views, 191, and you will find lots of people do. The boards have been really slow. Not everyone replies.

If you would please stop by my friend's topic in Warm Wishes. His name is Nutzky and he is in Iraq.

It would mean a lot to him if perhaps you would write him a poem, draw a picture or just send him a

post. Thanks for stopping in his topic. Here is the link:

http://www.hampsterboard.com/board/index.php?showtopic=5200

[Topazia]

have you asked HK about uploading different kinds of files, like word docs and powerpoint presentations?

[Horatio]

have you asked HK about uploading different kinds of files, like word docs and powerpoint presentations?

He is looking at a variety of things. This is to broaden the appeal of the site and allow us to have more options.

[Topazia]

Little Tad winced as he felt his tiny arm snap. He couldn’t understand why Daddy would want to make him feel this pain. Little Tad looked up at his father with big, tearful eyes.

“Daddy, why are you hurting me?” His small voice failed to reach the man’s ears, so the little boy stood up and asked again. “Daddy, why are you hurting me?” Scott heard the complaint and paused, allowing Tad to recover from the pain. The simple question made him think and realized what he was doing.

“Go to your room, boy!” The heated remark cut little Tad deeply, but he did as he was told. Scott sat down to work out the question. “Why am I doing this?” he pondered, not noticing Lecia at the doorway. She was dabbing foundation onto a blackened eye, and was afraid to answer his question because he was drunk.

Tad sat on his bed trying to ignore the warm pain in his arm. He reached over to his desk to grab the ruler and tape. He placed the ruler in the crook of his elbow and taped it there as a sort of makeshift splint. Melinda watched in brooding silence.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Tad complained. “You’re making me nervous, Melinda.” The sullen tone of his voice incensed the girl into speaking.

“You’re hurt, Tad! Why won’t you let me help you sometimes? It isn’t like I’m completely useless, but you make me feel like I am!” The soft whisper of anger in her voice surprised little Tad.

“Fine, Minda. Hand me the gauze. You know where it is,” he smiled weakly, trying to look normal for the innocent little girl he’d grown up caring for almost on his own. Melinda started to give him the gauze, but took it out of Tad’s reach as he went to take it. “Oh, come on, Min!” Melinda glared at him.

“Teach me. If you get knocked out next time, Daddy might not take care of you again. Mommy might be hurt, too, and you know he can’t hurt me. I’ll have to do something. What if I don’t know how?” Her eyes were wide with worry. Tad sighed and smiled weakly.

“Okay. Gimme, sis. To set a forearm with gauze and a straightedge, you have to physically re-straighten the bone, like this.” Tad bit down on his watchband and pulled his arm straight before carefully setting it back where it should be. Already, the arm looked more natural than it had before. Tad continued to bite his watchband until the pain subsided. “Then, you put the straightedge, a ruler, for example, next to the arm. My arms are short enough now, a ruler is all it takes, but when we get older, you might have to find something longer, because you have to freeze the elbow and wrist in order to correctly stabilize the arm.

“So I put the ruler here, on the inside of my elbow, because it reminds my arm not to bend. Could you please hold the ruler while I put the gauze on? It’s really hard to do with one hand. Thank you,” he smiled softly as Melinda held the ruler gently, careful not to press too hard. Tad put one end of the gauze strip on the ruler right next to where Melinda was holding it. “Chino lamia, tist?” Hold it, please? The twins’ language came naturally to him. She slid it under her thin fingers, and Tad carefully wrapped it around once, overlapping Melinda’s hand. “A dint?” And this? Melinda obliged silently, watching Tad’s every move as he continued to wrap his arm, overlapping the bandage carefully in order to protect it from further injury.

When he got close to the end, he couldn’t reach anymore, because the ruler dug into his arm. He asked Melinda to finish wrapping his arm, so she did.

“Now what, Tad?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity.

“Thank you. Now you have to go get the gauze tape, Melinda. I can hold the gauze with my foot while you hurry.” Melinda walked as quickly as she could to get the tape, careful not to fall on her way back. “Thanks. Tear a strip about four inches long. That’s about the length from your wrist to your elbow.” She couldn’t do it. “Um… Okay, pull up a little piece and stick it to my desk, right next to my hand.” Melinda did so. Tad pulled a piece to the right length and pulled out the scissors he’d pilfered from his dad’s workroom. “There. Catch the tape when it falls, Melinda.” He cut the tape and took it off the desk quickly as Melinda caught the tape and set it on the desk.

“Let me guess, Tad. Do I wrap it around your wrist now?” Tad shook his head no before answering.

“No, but good guess. Cut the tape in half, and use one piece to tape the gauze at my wrist, and the other one is for my elbow.” Melinda nodded in understanding as she obeyed, carefully placing the tape so as not to catch Tad’s skin with the sticky residue as she taped his elbow. “Good job, Melinda! Usually I catch my arm, and it itches for weeks! Now we can go get the self-sticking gauze. It’s dark blue, and it comes in little rolls about this big.” Tad held up his fingers in the shape of a circle an inch and a half in diameter, and then held them two inches apart. Melinda walked with him to his first-aid bin, hidden in their closet. “You’ll need to know what everything in here is, in case you do need to help me. I’ll get to that later. Here it is!” Tad pulled out the special gauze and opened it easily by popping the bag it was in with one hand. Melinda blinked.

“How will I open it, Tad?” He held up the scissors. “Oh.” She smiled, knowing she could cut almost anything with those scissors, the way Tad taught her.

“Exactly,” he grinned, shaking the strip down a little with his good hand. “Now wrap this around the white gauze, leaving half an inch showing on each end. Start at my wrist.” Melinda did so, carefully overlapping the blue strip just slightly, so there would be enough. She had a little extra, so Tad just tucked it in at his elbow. “This is your basic homemade cast, Minda. Thank you for helping me.” Melinda smiled.

“Thank you for teaching me,” she replied, “‘cause now I can be useful.” Tad looked hard at his sister.

“You really feel useless.” Melinda nodded, looking down and away. Tad gave her a hug as best he could with the splint. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I know how horrible that feeling is.” Melinda squeezed back gently.

The two highly intelligent children were totally unaware of their father watching silently from the doorway, shocked at how brilliant and advanced his twins were for seven-year-old children.

 

 

 

 

the end

[Topazia]

I should find more stuff to put in here.

[Horatio]

I think you should find more stuff to put in here.

 

My we request your autograph before you become famous?

[Topazia]

I should really find more stuff to put on here.

[Topazia]

And my autograph? Yeah my signature kinda sucks... Maybe. k?

[Horatio]

So design a new signature.

[Topazia]

*whine* But that would take work....

 

I'm going to put something in here tomorrow. Just gotta dig through my recent work for something harmless. I've taken to delving into character pasts, and I can't post pretty much anything here. Maybe a couple things, but not much. o.0 A PG forum is harder to write for than young adult/adult fiction with no such restraints. (I say PG bc a G rated forum wouldn't allow anything remotely uncomfortable, and it's clear that historically we even enter PG-13 at times, save language)

[Topazia]

Story of the Bell Diver

 

Once upon a time, there were mechanical water spirits whose souls resided within a tiny, magical bell. It was said they were a helpful race, but very lonely, as few people could see them. They say you could tell when one was near the surface by their bubbles if you looked closely enough. Most could hear a bell diver’s ringing late at night on calm water, a faint tinkling emanating from the center of lakes and ponds. It signaled favorable weather the next morning if it was slow, but storms if it was fast. Eventually the stories of bell divers rescuing lost boaters and keeping children from drowning faded into myth, and then obscurity.

 

One day, a small, bookish woman was sitting by a secluded lake. There was no one around for miles, the only sounds from birds and small woodland creatures. The young woman was sitting very quietly, staring out over the water. She was searching for something, but couldn’t seem to find it, even after months of visiting. As the day wore on, she grew frustrated. As the sun grew closer to setting, she angrily stood, took up her books and pens and a strange looking contraption, and stormed off in a huff. One last time she turned back, a regretful look on her face, and saw it. A small line of bubbles in a lake with no air-breathers traced a circle near the center of the water. The woman shouted in joy and danced in celebration, dropping most of her load. When she was done, she picked up her things and left after noting the time.

 

The next day at the same time, the woman appeared with just the odd machine and sat by the water. Right when she saw the bubbles in the same spot, she took a hose with a metal rod on the end and placed the tip into the lake. She cranked the machine, generating a small electrical current in the water. The bubbles, which had been simply circling, paused in place, then started creeping closer. The woman put a hand in the water, knowing the current was too weak to harm her. The bubbles started coming faster but stopped about ten feet from shore. They circled a few times and then vanished. The woman sighed in disappointment. She pulled the current emitter from the water and started packing to leave. She hoisted the heavy thing up and stopped. Ting! Ting ding! She turned, but the bubbles were going back to the deeper water. She left, disappointed once again.

 

Many weeks went by and the woman never showed up. The curious but shy bell diver missed her.

 

More? Not sure how to continue. I think I need to add more in the girl's story, make her curious to make the bell diver's attraction warranted to the reader.

[Horatio]

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... do not stop now! I like this story. Please continue! This will be a very good and interesting story!