![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
2. Age: 29
3. Single or Taken: blissfully single
4. Favorite Movie: Repo! The Genetic Opera
5. Favorite Song or Album: Repo! The Genetic Opera
6. Favorite Band/Artist: Dunno
7. Dirty or Clean: Dirty
8. Tattoos and/or Piercings: None
9. Do we know each other outside of LJ? No, wish we did. You seem like a cool person.
10. What's your philosophy on life? Don't do if you can't stand getting caught
11. Is the bottle half-full or half-empty? More please!
12. Would you keep a secret from me if you thought it was in my best interest? Depends on the secret. The fact those pants make your butt look big, yes. If your boy/girl friend was cheating on you, nope.
13. What is your favorite memory of us? All the snarking you've done, you genius you.
14. What is your favorite guilty pleasure? Fluffy romance novels
15. Tell me one odd/interesting fact about you: I wrote plays between the ages of 8 and 10.
16. You can have three wishes (for yourself, so forget all the 'world peace etc' malarky) - what are they? A. to have the wisdom to do better in life, B. to have the drive to put that wisdom to good use and C. to have all the money I need to get what I want.
17. Can we get together and make a cake? Sure!
18. Which country is your spiritual home? Probably Germany. I keep wanting to go back.
19. What is your big weakness? The computer
20. Do you think I'm a good person? Yes
21. What was your best/favorite subject at school? Writing
22. Describe your accent Though born in NY, I have the thickest southern accent ever.
23. If you could change anything about me, would you? Don't know you well enough to change anything.
24. What do you wear to sleep? A shirt and boxers
25. Trousers or skirts? trousers
26. Cigarettes or alcohol? Ick, neither. My body is a temple. A big, round temple.
27. If I only had one day to live, what would we do together? (If you have no idea, just say something crazy, it'll entertain me!) Go snorkling in the Bahamas!
28. Will you repost this so I can fill it out for you? I think that's possible.
Hey, anyone in my Flist, if you want, fill this out too.
Rupert Milton Stanley, once a minor lord and now another fanged nobody, watched them from his apartment window, idly swirling a glass of blood in his hand. He wasn't sure who he hated more; the government or the Fangsies.
Fangsies were pretend vampires, little teens who rebeled against their parents by dressing up vampire chic clothing and donning fake fangs. They came into the Blood District to make-believe they belonged and that no one understood their pain. They partied with the monsters when it was conveniant for them.
In the end, they went home and saw their families. They got to eat what they wanted and never got sick from it. They could walk in the sunlight and not fear that some twitchy cop would kill them for sneezing. They wanted the fantasy and Rupert lived the reality.
They were pathetic.
Not pathetic, Rupert. Sad.
Rupert closed his eyes, resting his head against the cold window pane. God, he could almost hear Jacob. How many times had they had that conversation?
He could almost see Jacob now, standing behind him. It was pure imagination, vampires didn't cast reflections, but he saw him nonetheless. Medium height with an unruly mop of black hair, wise dark eyes perched over a nose that only a mother could love and his yamake that he wore proudly. Never in all the years that Jacob had been a vampire did he ever lose his faith.
"Sad is an understatement," muttered Rupert to the memory. They don't know how it really is."
"And how is it," asked Jacob, walking past Rupert to sit on the couch. "We have more freedom now. Things are looking up."
"Looking up? We're hounded nightly!" Rupert stalked past the couch, pacing. That night had been his final straw. A massacure at the A-negative District, all over some silly girl who swore that a vampire had hissed at her. "No fair trial! No jury of our peers! No investigation! Just fangs and shoot!"
"It takes time for things to change," Jacob said. "Some people accept us."
"There are more and more Vampire Friendly groups out there," pointed out Rebecca, Jacob's fiancee. She was sitting quietly in a corner, reading wedding magazines.
Rupert snorted. "Vampire Friendly? Like the Fangsies or Coffin-bangers. Oh, real friendly as long as they can get in your pants."
"And what do you suggest, Rupert? That we go back to the way it was? To hiding what we are and fearing each night that we won't be able to eat, that we'll be discovered? Go back to sneaking around in shadows?" Jacob asked. "I like it this way. We're making some progress."
"Progress? We're forced to live in special districts. You have to have a police escort when you go to your night classes and they ration our blood supply. We had to be branded, Jacob! Branded!"
Jacob sighed and Rebecca held the magazine closer to her face. Rupert regretted it immedietly. "I'm sorry. I forgot."
"Say nothing of it," Jacob said with a forced cheerfulness. "Say, are you coming to the Bachelor Party?"
Rupert nodded, but he saw that Jacob had moved his hand to cover the tattoos on his left arm. One was the mark of the vampire, imposed on him by the government. The other was best left unsaid.
Rupert sighed and pushed away from the window, shaking the last bits of that memory away. It hurt to think of them, to remember Jacob and Rebecca. It had all changed. No more sitting in his apartment or laughing over tea they couldn't drink.
Sitting on Rupert's kitchen table were three flowery, ornate teacups. Too girly for his taste, but Rebecca had liked them. He never really got a chance to give them back. It was always, "Let me wash them and you can take them back next time," except, they never wanted there to be that next time. The cups stayed with Rupert, and Jacob and Rebecca always came over.
"If only we didn't have that stupid Bachelor Party," Rupert snarled. He finished the last of the blood from the glass and slammed it down on the table. "Why did you want to have that stupid party!"
"It's not stupid," said Jacob as they entered the bar. "It's a tradition. My last night of freedom."
"Ha! You and Rebecca have been together for decades, centuries," said Rupert. "You don't need to get married. You already are."
"We want to do this right. Now that we have the freedom to marry, we want to. It took us a long time to find a Rabbi to marry us outside. Heck, it took a long time to find a Rabbi to marry us period."
"This is still stupid," grumped Rupert. "Aren't Bachelor Parties supposed to go to strip clubs or something like that? Not the bar down the street."
Jacob smiled. "Rebecca would kill me if I ever did that and you're too uptight for that anyway. If I took you to a strip club, you'd have a heart attack."
"Need a heart for that."
Rupert picked up the teacups and brought them over to the sink. They weren't used, but he needed the ritual. Washing the cups would make him feel human. He had to be careful or he'd break them. Rebecca wouldn't like it if he broke her teacups.
If onl they hadn't had that stupid Bachelor Party. Hell, if only Jacob hadn't wanted to hire the wedding planner. That was were it all really went wrong. That wedding planner!
The police showed up at the bar, The Leech's Delight, the night after the Bachelor party. They stormed in, guns out and ready. Everyone froze, pints of blood halfway to their mouths. When the police showed up, it meant that someone with fangs was going to die.
"We're looking for a Jacob Goldstein," one announced.
"I'm Jacob. What seems to be the problem?"
"Where were you last night?"
"Here. Everyone can vouch for me. It was my Bachelor's Party," Jacob said. He gave them his most harmless smile without a hint of fangs. "I believe some of you fine officers were on duty here."
A few of the police shifted uncomfortably. Rupert's pale blue eyes narrowed. The police knew why they were here, but it looked like they were also embarassed.
"Mr. Goldstein, you're coming with us as a person of interest on the attack of Miss Melanie Hews," the lead officer said. "Please come quietly, don't make us use force."
"Of course," Jacob said. They all knew it was no good to fight. Melanie Hews was the wedding planner, a human that Jacob and Rebecca nearly counted as a friend. Her name had been plastered all over the papers, either as a traitor or as a pioneer. Depended on what paper you read.
"Is Melanie okay?" Jacob asked as he approached the officers.
"She'll be fine. Truamatized, but she'll recover."
"What happened?"
"Just come with us."
"Why did you go!" Rupert gripped the sink as he tried to not cry. That was the last time he saw Jacob alive. Melanie Hews, it turned out, had a boyfriend who was very anti-monster. When she continued to help Jacob and Rebecca, he attacked her. She named Jacob as the attacker, though.
No one questioned it.
No one did anything.
No one, but Rebecca.
"Jacob! Where are you taking him!" Rebecca came running down the street once word got to her that Jacob was being arrested. Though the words, "You're under arrest" were never uttered, no vampire ever left with the police and didn't wind up being charged.
"Ma'am, stay out of this please."
"You have no right! Let him stay. He's innocent!"
"Ma'am, please, move back."
"Sir, she has the mark as well," whispered one officer.
"Ma'am, stay back. Don't make us use force."
Jacob pushed away from the officers. "Rebecca, run home. Don't worry, I know I'm innocent. I'll be home by tomorrow."
"The cemetaries are filled with the innocent," cried Rebecca. "The government doesn't care. You have fangs, they already think you're guilty."
"I'll get a fair trial. You'll see."
"Don't be naive," snapped Rupert. "No vampire has ever gotten a trial, let alone a fair one."
"Jacob, you can't go! They can't take you! Don't leave me!" Rupert had to move fast to grab Rebecca as she launched herself despretly at the man she loved.
That was when Jacob made his move. He walked over to Rebecca, pushing the officers off himself. One of them got jumpy and shot him in the back.
Jacob died in Rebecca's arms. There was no write-up in the paper. Melanie Hews finally came clean after she learned of Jacob's death, though what did she expect when she accused a vampire.
Don't worry, I'll get a fair trial.
Rupert placed the teacups in the drainer and walked away from the kitchen. He sat on the couch, his friend's words ringing in his ears. Jacob never got a fair trial. No vampire ever did. But, times were changing, weren't they?
He picked up a text book, flipping through to that week's chapter on the History of Law. Maybe, vampires didn't have a fair chance now, but he'd change that. He'd fight for the rights of vampires. He'd fight for the Jacobs of the world who never got their fair trial. He'd fight for the Rebeccas who were still hurting from the unfair laws.
Look out world! Rupert Stanley, Vampire Lawyer was on the case!
Chapter Two
( I decided that Florida was not where I wanted to spend more time then necessary. )
Words in chapter: 2330
Words total: 7412
Prologue
The everyday noise of the city faded as Bella stood, her mouth dropped open in shock at her best friend. Time stood still in that instant, capturing everything like a picture. Every detail became vivid with perfect clarity. As Bella tried to find her voice, little details stood out in her mind. The way the setting sun entered the study and glistened off the antique sword collection, casting rainbow shadows on the walls. The muffled sounds of cars and pedestrians out the window, scurrying about their day, unaware of what was going on in the top floor of the brownstone house. The faint bumps and scratching beyond the walls that gave reminder that people lived just next door all seemed so far away and in another time.
“What did you say?” Bella gasped, stepping back. She could not believe her ears, or her eyes. This was her best friend, the person she had shared her secrets with and confided her dreams. It was in this very room that they had become blood sisters.
That seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, her best friend glared at her with insane eyes, filled with anger and hate.
“I said it’s all over. You lose, Bella,” she said with a smirk.
“Why are you doing this Am-“ Bella started, but she was rudely cut off.
“Don’t call me that! Don’t ever call me by that name again. I’m no longer her, no longer that weak human I was forced to become. I am Faydhonia now.”
“What?”
Am – No! Faydhonia – laughed. Before Bella’s eyes, she changed. Her limp blond hair grew and coiled into golden ringlets that fell just beyond her waist. Her pale skin started to glow and her blue eyes sparkled. The room filled with the sickly-sweet scent of flowers, but it quickly changed to the moldy smell of decaying plants. Iridescent wings sprouted from her back, buzzing angrily behind her. Whatever Faydhonia was, it wasn’t human.
“Oh, Bella,” Faydhonia mused, pleased at the look of astonishment on the girl’s face. “It would have been so easy to just kill you and leave you unaware of the truth. You’re so naïve, letting me get so close to you. You never did figure it out, did you?”
“What are you?” Bella took another step back, bumping into the desk. “What do you want?”
“I want you do die. You are pathetic, Bella. Everything was just handed to you! You never had to work for a single thing!”
“I don’t understand,” Bella pleaded. “I thought we were friends. We used to have sleepovers and make s’mores over the stove. How can you hate me?”
Faydhonia snarled, reaching towards Bella. A powerful force lifted her into the air, smashing her into the wall as Faydhonia smirked. Bella moaned as she pushed herself up off the floor, watching her friend with the hurt shining in her eyes.
“We were never friends! I only pretended to be your friend to get close enough to kill you! I never liked you! I hate you!”
Bella whimpered in pain, though she wasn’t sure if it was from her physical wounds or the hole that Faydhonia’s words had cut into her heart. This had once been her bestest and only friend.
With a cruel smile, Faydhonia magically threw her again. Bella screamed as she came crashing down on the desk, cutting her leg on the corner. The blood ran hot down her leg, soaking into her designer jeans.
“I could kill you now,” Faydhonia said. “You’ll still be clueless, weak. You can’t fight me and win.”
“Please, don’t do this,” Bella begged around her tears.
Faydhonia purred, “what is the fun in that, hmm?’ To defeat you when you are nothing? No, I want to kill the real Bella, not this pathetic shell.”
“I am the real Bella! You know me! Remember? Am-“
“Stop calling me that!” Faydhonia waved her hands and Bella flew through the air again. She cried out as she smashed into the wall, knocking a collection of fake katanas and worthless movie replica daggers to the floor. They scattered around her, rattling in their sheathes like dry bones.
Bella was sure that the noise would attract some attention. Surely someone outside had heard her screams, or the neighbors heard the thuds against the walls. Someone had to come to investigate or call the police. At any moment, she would be rescued.
Something must have shown on her face because Faydhonia sneered, “Waiting for your knight in shining armor? Don’t hold your breath. No one can hear you. No one will help you. I’ve set up a Silence spell. You are without any support. You will die alone and no one will ever morn you.”
Panting, Bella pleaded, “Why are you doing this? What have I ever done to you?”
“Oh! That’s right. You don’t remember, do you?” Faydhonia made a tsking noise with her tongue. As she approached Bella, the frightened girl scrambled away on her hands and knees, ignoring the pain in her leg. She hid behind the desk, curled up in a ball. She could hear Faydhonia pacing in front of the desk, taking her time. The desk proved to be a flimsy barrier against the monster that was once her best friend.
Faydhonia tapped her nails against the desk. Click-clack-click. Click-clack-click. When she spoke, her voice was calm. She sounded like the person she had once been, not this glowing creature that made no sense.
“You always had it all. The good looks, the effortless good grades. Boys eager to be near you and the girls always wanting to be you. I hated you for it. You flaunted your good fortune in my face, laughing at me as I struggled to keep up with you. Always in your shadow. I was just you little tag-a-long companion, Faydhonia the Invisible. Wasn’t I, Princess?”
“Princess? What are you talking about?” Bella shook her head even though Faydhonia couldn’t see her. Or, could she? Bella wasn’t so sure about anything, anymore. Nothing that Faydhonia was saying was making sense. Bella wasn’t beautiful. She was plain – ordinary – with pale red hair and green eyes. Not sparkling emerald or jade or any other romantic color. Just a rather uninteresting shade of green that bordered on muddy brown. She was too skinny and covered in freckles. She wasn’t popular and the boys never cared too much to be in her company. It was always Am – No! Faydhonia! – whom the boys wanted to be around and the girls sighed in jealousy over.
“You are Princess Bella,” Faydhonia said. “I gave you everything, and you never noticed!”
“I’m not a princess,” Bella protested. “Please, you have it all wrong.”
Faydhonia overturned the desk, exposing the fearful Bella. Before Bella could run, Faydhonia grabbed her by the throat, dragging her up. Bella clawed at the hand with no luck.
“I have nothing wrong, Princess,” Faydhonia snarled. “You are the one who is wrong.”
“Please,” Bella croaked. “I was your friend.”
“We were never friends. The very thought makes me sick!” Faydhonia physically tossed Bella away from her. She landed in a crumpled heap on top of the fallen swords. Her hand landed on top of one jewel-encrusted dagger that would have been worthless in an actual fight. The dagger glowed and changed shape into a wand that sent tingles up Bella’s arm.
Use the wand, Bella, a voice whispered in her mind. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t remember who it was. Use it now.
“No more games, Princess,” Faydhonia said. “Now, you die.”
Use the wand!
Bella held out the wand, unsure of what it would do. For a moment, Faydhonia looked surprised and almost afraid. Then, a force exited the wand and sent Faydhonia crashing into the wall. It was a welcoming sight.
“Where did you get that,” demanded Faydhonia as she stood up. She wiped the blood from her mouth. “You can’t have that! It was buried with your father!”
“My father isn’t dead,” Bella said, holding the wand in front of her like a pathetic shield. “You’ve got the wrong person.”
Faydhonia smiled. “Even with the wand, you can’t remember. This is precious. You have the Sacred Wand of the Fairy, but you don’t have the memories to use it!”
“The what of the what?”
“The Sacred Wand of the Fairy,” Faydhonia said. She slowly moved around Bella. Bella kept the wand between them at all times. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll still kill you. You don’t know how to fully use it.”
A dark power surround Faydhonia, and Bella knew she was seeing her death.
Use the wand, Bella! You have the power.
“How,” she whispered. “How do I use it?”
“I’m not telling you, silly girl,” Faydhonia laughed.
The power is inside you. You must send her to the Dark Abyss.
Bella closed her eyes and felt the tingling power of the wand radiating up her arm. She could feel it touch inside her, stroking a part of her that had lain dormant for so many years. As a child, she had always known that she was special, playing the part of a fairy princess in her imaginary tea parties. Dancing with butterfly wings as she pretended that she could fly. Never had she thought that her make-believe would really mean anything.
She held out the wand, the words forced from deep inside her. She didn’t even know what they meant or what she said. The black power of Faydhonia was met with a radiant white light.
“No! What are you doing!” Faydhonia tried to swat at the light, but she screamed and cradled her hand as if burned.
“Rest in the Abyss,” Bella said as the light intensified. Then, it vanished and the darkness remained. All was still for a heartbeat before the darkness pulsed and collapsed into itself. Faydhonia screamed as she was swallowed by the darkness.
Bella stood there for a moment before dropping to her knees. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she thought of her friend, the one that she knew. Not the insane Faydhonia. She remembered their camp outs, sleeping in a tent in the living room while her father pretended to be a wild animal. They would shriek and laugh as he roared and shook the tent until her mom would come out and tell him to stop.
She remembered spending weeks with her friend after her father left, wanting to live with his new mistress instead of staying with his family. She remembered how they used to sit at lunch, giggling about their favorite book series and sighing over how romantic the hero was.
“Why did this happen,” Bella whispered.
“It happened because of Morgause.”
Bella looked up, but she saw no one. She slowly stood and looked around the room. She had heard a man’s voice, the same voice that told her how to use the wand. She had to find out who was speaking.
“Hello? Anyone there?”
“Just a moment, dear.” There was a glowing light by the overturned desk. Bella watched as it took the form of an elder man. He was stooped over with a long white beard that dragged on the floor. Twinkling green eyes smiled at her over a bulbous nose and under two very bushy white eyebrows. A golden crown sat on his balding head and two delicate wings perched on his back. His clothes were robes of brilliant gold.
“Who are you?”
“Why, dear Bella, I am your father.”
“No, you’re not. My father left us when I was five. You look nothing like him.”
The winged man laughed, and it was a nice, inviting sound. “Bella, I am your true father. That mortal that you call father had nothing to do with your creation. You are the reincarnation of my own darling daughter.”
“I can’t be,” Bella said. “This is a dream. I hit my head too hard. I ate a bad taco. Someone is playing a trick on me.”
“No tricks, daughter. You are the only surviving member of the royal family of the Fairy. You hold all our power in your hands.”
Bella looked down at the wand. “This thing?”
“Inside you. You are my daughter, and you are the only one who can avenge our deaths,” the old man said. “I am King Tearlach, ruler of the Fairy and keeper of the Elements. I was once known as a wise and kind king, and our people flourished.”
“Fairies don’t exist.”
“We do, Bella. We have always existed. You know this.”
Bella shook her head. It didn’t make any sense.
Yet, it did. Everything that she had always secretly known was becoming a reality. Didn’t she just send her ex-best friend into a place that she knew in her heart was called the Dark Abyss? Didn’t she feel the truth in the words of the old man, knowing in her heart that he was indeed her real father? She could feel it, just as she felt the power awakening inside her. She was really a princess.
“Okay, I believe you,” she said slowly. “How did you die? How come I’m human?”
Tearlach smiled sadly. “Ah, it was my greatest folly. I had hired a new court wizard. He was a charmer and we were caught in his spell. Your mother – your real mother, the good queen Ula – and I thought that he was a good man.”
“Morgause?”
“Yes, Morgause Perfidas, the Dread Overlord of Evil. He betrayed us in a most brutal manner.”
Bella frowned. “You thought a guy who calls himself the Dread Overlord of Evil was a good guy?”
“He didn’t call himself that when we hired him,” Tearlach said. “He was just the wizard Morgause, then.”
“What happened?”
“He started courting you. However, you were engaged to marry Avery, Prince of the Elves. He thought to woo you away from the prince, but once you saw your betrothed, you were in love. Morgause flew into a rage and cast his lot with the vile vampires and werewolves.”
“So, there are really vampires and werewolves in the world?”
“Oh, yes. And now, they serve Morgause, eagerly awaiting for the day when they can overthrow the humans and plunge the world into darkness.”
“How do we stop them?”
Tearlach leaned over Bella and kissed her on the forehead. “You must find the Elvan prince, Avery. Morgause locked his memories inside a mortal boy, just as he sent your spirit into a human girl. Free Prince Avery, and the elves will follow you. Then, you will have the power to completely lock Morgause into the Dark Abyss and save the earth.”
Words in Chapter: 2443
Words total: 2443
Plot bunnies that are now staring at me with those big, soulful eyes and floppy ears:
Pretty vampires that use their good looks/charms as a way of luring in victims come across a smart girl who isn't fooled. They only let her live since she's amusing to them.
Red Riding Hood set in NYC
A vampire who runs an antique store and has a food fetish
A vampire story where the fat/plain friend gets the hunk instead of the model
Person finds out about vampire lover has a killer past through newspaper clippings
Secret society of Elemental powered teens bursts into an ordinary girl's life when she finds herself on the wrong end of a squabble between her bisexual boyfriend and his secret lover.
((More to come as I remember/think of them))
Prologue (http://amamelina.livejournal.com/7871.ht
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
I will be making a Table of Contents before Friday so that it will be easier to navigate through the chapters. My goal is to write a chapter a day (two chapters on days I'm off work and school). This gives me almost a week window to play catch up if I slag behind.
The story (as presented) is about a girl who is the last daughter of the Fairy King. She is to find the elf prince, who is sleeping inside the mortal body of a teenage boy, and free his memories. Then she can stop the Dread Overlord of Evil from destroying earth.
Sounds corny, huh? It's not. There's murder, magic and mystery. Oh, and horror.
http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2511940/1/D
As of now on April 30th, the count for Dangerous Games is:
12,443 words
25 pages
The only entries I'm doing from now on will be:
1. Book updates
2. Words of wisdom that I've come across (advice from other authors that I think should be passed on)
3. Movie reviews (I'm a big movie buff)
4. Silly stories from my life (cause we all need to laugh once in a while)
To start off, my novel Dangerous Games is the one I hope to finish by December. It used to be called Allie Quinn and the Sack Man, but that was just dorky. The basic idea is that Alastrina Petrov just lost her husband. While she is trying to pick up the pieces of her life and care for her four-year-old daughter, she discovers that her husband's killer was really targeting her. She is drawn into the dark world of reborn demons and nightmares, and her only hope is to trust a werewolf that she has hated almost all her life.
My family has recently found out that a friend of ours, Chris, has an agressive form of cancer. Other then knowing that it's aggressive, I don't know anything else. I am asking anyone who can see my journal to please pray/think good thoughts/light candles/what have you in hopes that he survives this.
Thank you.
- Mood:
sad
That scene I put in below, with Elsbeth and Allie, will not be chapter three. In the newest rewrite, Elsbeth doesn't show up until chapter three, but isn't a friend of Allie's until around chapter five or so. I still want it in the first book.
Below is a quick scene that brought a smile to my face. Just to let you know what's going on, Alastrina Petrov (maiden name was Quinn), is about to have her title as Lady of the Court (the vampire ruling body) taken from her since her husband has died and she is just a mortal woman. The Marquis, who is the representative of the Court in America, and her father-in-law (Zoran) are there with her. This was just my little stab at some of the names that vampires have in books. I am so putting Tim the vampire in this book. The world needs Tim!
( Read more... )
Not too bad. At least, I like it.
Elsbeth leaned down, plucking the book from my wastebasket. She quickly wiped off the cover and said, "What's this?"
"Something I couldn't read," I told her, taking down the cups. "I only have that Diet Mint tea. Will that be ok?"
"Oh, that'll be fine," Elsbeth said. "Why'd you toss this in the trash? I heard the New York Times gave it a great review, said it was hot and steamy and her best work yet."
I snorted. "Oh, please. I've been more turned on reading a cookbook."
Elsbeth laughed. "I know. All that talk about beating the eggs, whipping cream and kneading the dough. So sexy!" She gave a low moan.
I threw a dish towel at her, hitting her in the face. She laughed, snapping the towel at me in retaliation. I stuck out my tounge and finished making our tea.
"So, Allie," said Elsbeth as she sat down, "have I ever told you about my meatloaf fetish?"
- Mood:
working
The screams had awoken Akumet, every night it was the same. She heard them, crying for help. The sound of nails scratching at the walls. The hopeless wails of the dying. Frightened, she curled up to go back to sleep, wrapping herself around her sister, Sagira.
How long had it been since she had been placed in this prision? How long must she stay here?
Akumet and Sagira had once been like queens, having been selected to be the handmaidens of the God's Wife, servants of Isis. The pharoah's wife had taken the title of God's Wife, being a woman of power and holding a connection to the female dieties. Through her, questions of home and family were answered. She held power like her husband had.
However, being in the service of the God's Wife had been dangerous. Many were envious of the honor bestowed on Akumet and Sangira, the lowly daughters of a serving woman. The God's Wife had wanted to be surrounded by beauty, as was befitting a goddess. Akumet and Sagira were beautiful, flawless with their smooth nut-brown skin and silky black hair. There was no mark on their bodies and they moved with grace.
They had been elevated from poverty to riches. No longer did they dress in rags and beg for food. They were wrapped in silks like the pharoah's wife, dressed in jewels and bathed in perfumes. They followed the pharoah's wife everywhere, sometimes to carry her personal belongings from her room to the special place of offerings set up just for the God's Wife, other times to merely look like lovely gems that stayed with the pharoah's wife.
The honor was more for Sagira then for Akumet. When the pharoah's wife had told Akumet that she had been chosen, Akumet had begged for her to take her sister as well. She knew that Sagira deserved to be treated like a queen. Her sister had spent too many years starving and did not deserve the future of being married off some fat merchant and wasting away in a small, dusty home. Akumet, the elder sister, had always looked out for Sagira.
However, the ladies of the court grew jealous of Sagira's beauty and good luck. They had wanted their daughters to be named the handmaidens of the God's Wife, for their daughters to have the honor. Why should two lowly girls be raised above those of the ladies of the court. Even the pharoah's own daughter was not part of the holy circle.
Akumet realized now that she should have known of the danger. Urbi, the pharoah's daughter, was a vengeful person who was as cruel as she was beautiful. Her mother had seen her destructive behavior while she was a child, and wanted no such ugliness of the soul to taint the practices of the God's Wife. However, Urbi did not see it that way and made life miserable for Akumet and Sagira. Several times, Sagira would leave for her bath or a walk and return with horrible bruises. Urbi, jealous of Sagira's long hair, had cut it to almost nothing.
Urbi never attacked Akumet. She must have sensed that Akumet would fight back. Since Sagira never said it was Urbi who tormented her, Akumet could not fight back. Everyone turned a blind eye when Urbi hurt others, not wanting to be the one to tell the pharoah that his daughter had nearly caused the death of this servant or that servant.
Then, one night, it happened. The pharoah's cousin grew jealous of the God's Wife and plotted with Urbi to change things. The cousin would be pharoah and Urbi would be the new God's Wife, devoted to him. Urbi agreed, though she had no plans of giving her powers to a man.
The fateful night was one of fire and blood. Urbi slaughtered her parents and then went after Akumet and Sagira. She had them tortured and thrown into a small room beneath the palace to die.
Sagira was weaker then Akumet. Akumet could see her sister failing and held her tighter.
"I won't leave you, Sagira," Akumet promised. "I will defy the gods to keep you safe. No one will ever disturb you again."
The years went by. Akumet was only aware that she slept alot. She was awakened by the nightmares when something living crossed through her chambers. Rats, mostly. She never noticed how Sagira had become still and slowly turned from a young woman to a pile of bones. She never noticed how the same thing happened to her body. She only knew that she had to protect her sister in case Urbi ever came back.
No one would ever disturb their rest. Akumet would see to that.
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1947
Professor Hopkins was fairly dancing with glee as the wall was broken. Beyond it was a treasure far beyond his imagination. A room no one had ever seen.
"Just two skeletons," Jabidi the guide said. "No writting either. These bodies were meant to be forgotten."
Professor Hopkins felt his glee falter. "Nothing?"
"There are some scratches on the walls. These two were alive when they were placed here."
"Well, take the bodies. We'll still have to examine the room."
From somewhere in the dark, Akumet woke up. The screams had started again. Someone was in the room. Someone was taking Sagira.
Akumet stood up.
The end
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I wrote this story after a nightmare I had back in high school. However, I provided the background. My nightmare started after Akumet woke up, in the home she had taken to hide the treasures of her sister. I might post that part of the story later.
The God's Wife is true. In Ancient Egypt, the pharoah's wife could hold a vast power connected to the female deities, especially that of Isis. Her power and influence was as great as the pharoah's.
- Mood: creative
It was a truly hideous handbag, Margret Arnold decided. It sat in hopeful expectation among the brightly colored wrappings of her birthday gift. A jaunty tangle of ribbons was tied to one lopsided handle in a rather pathetic attempt to make it seem beautiful. The longer she stared at it, the more Margret thought of it as horrible.
Margret finally pulled her eyes away from the handbag, only to find herself now eager face of her sister. The handbag had been a gift from her, the younger and very artsy-craftsy June Arnold.
“Well,” June asked. Her blue eyes were wide, giving her cherub face an innocent look. She and Margret were as different as night and day, and her gift merely emphasized that point. June was the blond angel; tall and thin and always looked adorable. Even when she was in paint-splattered overalls and clay in her tangled hair, she looked beautiful. Margret, on the other hand, was shorter, darker and a little heavier set. She was “interesting” with “a great personality”. Though June had reassured Margret several times that she was cute, she never believed her.
“It’s, uh, interesting,” Margret managed. She held the handbag up, inspecting it closer. It was made of painted denim, a very gaudy mixture of reds, yellows and greens to form an army of roses. It was lopsided with two uneven straps poorly sewn on. One side had a n asymmetrical flap that was supposed to serve as a way to close the bag, as indicated by the loop that didn’t quite match up with the button lock. There were two pockets in the back that looked suspiciously like pants’ pockets.
“I hope you like it. I used those jeans you outgrew, the ones you said were your favorite. This way, you can keep the jeans with you always,” June said.
Margret could only stare now as the hideous handbag became even more repugnant. She now had a new reason to dislike this handbag. Now that June had told her what was used, she recognized the pattern and feel of the handbag. She had worn those jeans for years, size 14, thinking that was as round as she’d ever get. She outgrew the jeans thanks to her medicine for Lupus, growing larger instead of shrinking as she had hoped. No amount of exercise or diets had remedied the situation. In tears, she had thrown out the jeans, not wanting to be reminded of time when she was thinner.
Apparently, June had fished the jeans from trash and washed them. Then, she cut them up and stitched them back up as a handbag. Sewing was not June’s forte.
“I love it,” Margret choked out. She held the handbag and cried, though she wasn’t sure why. Part of her was upset over being given a constant reminder of what her illness had done, though her doctor had told her that the new pills she was on might help with weight loss. Part of her was upset that her sister had made something so horrible and then gave it to her when everyone could see, trapping her among witnesses to be nice. And yet, a part of her understood that all June wanted was to make her remember the happier times.
The handbag found a resting place by Margret’s bed. She never took it into public, but she never threw it away, either. She filled it with her birthday cards and Christmas cards each year, adding pictures taken on vacations. She never did realize how she felt about the handbag. On some days, she hated it. On other days, she loved it. Whatever she felt about it, it always remained a truly hideous handbag.
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I wrote this story after I made a handbag like the one described from a pair of jeans I had outgrown. I sat there, staring at it, and could only think of it as ugly. Laughing, I called a friend and told her about it, and she said it sounded awful. I eventually threw it away, but the memory of how awful it was will always be with me.
- Mood:
giggly
