heatheronahill

This is a dress up game I played today and really loved http://xsheepi.deviantart.com/art/Charlene-Dress-Up-206154743

and the above picture is what I created using her game.

Wild, Beguile

Darkness abounds filled with the sound of a thousand beating hearts.
Waiting in anticipation, a hush encompasses the crowd.
Each eager statue clings to any noise in the muted atmosphere.
Breaking silence with a beat, the music starts soft and grows loud.

Lights fill the stage and the frozen crowd comes alive,
pulsating to the rapid rhythm, sensuous and wild.
In the spotlight a young girl stands screaming out her soul,
peeling back the layers, underneath is just a child.

Faceless, screaming bodies calling out for more,
Just under the surface, fear, she has no more to give.
She is a pretty, charming picture to please the greedy masses,
She bats her lashes and shakes her hips, and is afraid to live.

Memory is such a strange thing to think about. Unraveling its mysteries is just another one of those tasks of life that worry at you until the end of your days. Now that I am old and my memory is beginning to fail me, I find myself pondering the past, trying to remember the years of my life as I saw them. Hour after hour I listen to my brother tell his memories of our childhood and I find myself confused. When I re-live in my mind the same years that my brother fixates on in our troubling conversations I do not see the painful events that he relates to me.

My brother, Everett, is one year older than me, so I understand that he may remember those early years much better than I do. I remember the warm touch of my mother's hands and how she smelled of cake from her job at the bakery, where my brother remembers only her gaunt face and sad eyes as she worked herself to an early grave. I remember how silly I thought it was that she called me 'Bessie' even though my name is Rosemary. My brother remembers that mother was confused there at the end when Aunt Bess came to stay with us.

After my mother died, my father sank into a world of his own, and my brother and I were forced to move in with Aunt Bess and Uncle Irving. Mother's sister, Bess, and her husband owned an ancient farm way out in the country where the wilderness was abundant and the people just faded into the background. Moving there seemed like the biggest adventure of my life; I felt like an explorer trekking into dense, unending jungle.

As a child, I tended to lean a bit towards the wild side. I recall exploring that house, leaving no corner unturned and delighting in the discovery of an actual secret passageway. Outside, I played with bugs and animals that would have made my Aunt faint on sight. My best memory, however, of living in that old house was on summer nights after the lights were out I would sneak onto the balcony and pretend to rule the night's creatures. I can still feel the rush I would get when the whole night-world would become still and silent as though they had been awaiting my arrival. I would pretend that they were my subjects chanting my name, and as I, their benevolent leader, took my position to give a speech, they fell silent in awe of my radiant presence.

My imagination, perhaps, served me well in those murky years that my brother remembers as the worst of his life. He portrays to me brutal scenes of physical and sexual abuse and emotional scarring that our Uncle Irving submitted us to before the state stepped in to help us. As he describes to me the horrors that I unknowingly lived through, I can only be grateful to my own mind for beguilingly saving me from the harshness of reality. I doubt that I will ever know why I do not remember those awful things, but I do know that I will not be taking my brother's advice to seek therapy to help unveil my past. Whatever force deceptively hides the truth from my delicate mind behind a smokescreen of beckoning wilderness, I will strive never to interfere with its charming drug that allows me to live out my days in peace.

Jasmine, Forever...*

April 25, 2009

Dear Isaac,

I was very glad to meet you last night. I know you had to leave early this morning so I am going to send this to your forwarding address. When Jax told me she had someone she wanted me to meet, I thought she was trying to set me up with another of her brothers' lame school friends again. Meeting you instead was a pleasant surprise. I can't wait until June when you come back. I am going to hold you to your promise and we are having a full on picnic in the park...It's a date, so don't forget me.

Forever,

Jasmine

June 3, 2009

Dear Isaac,

That picnic was great, I couldn't have asked for anything better. I thought the portable fans were a nice touch. Don't mind Jax, she's just been watching too many shows about going 'green', I'm sure they weren't actually all that bad for the environment. I loved talking with you this weekend and I really enjoy hanging out. I know you are coming home on Fourth of July weekend and I was wondering if you would go with me to Jax's party? I hope you will. I look forward to your reply.

Forever,

Jasmine

July 5, 2009

Dear Isaac,

First of all, I would just like to say I am sorry about how I acted at the party. I don't usually drink that much and I know I made a fool of myself. I must say though, I didn't think you would get so possessive, I mean it was just harmless flirting. I hope you aren't still mad at me. About that question you asked...I would love to be your girlfriend, if you'll still have me. I can't wait for your reply...Oh yeah, I got a new cell phone and forgot to give you the number on Friday, it's 233-555-0418. Call me!

Forever,

Jasmine

August 31, 2009

Dear Isaac,

I'm so glad you finally got to meet my mother. She liked you very much and said you come again next time you are in town. I'm sorry I shamed you in front of her. I didn't mean to make you feel inferior or embarrass you, I just don't like displaying affection openly in front of my mother. I'm not mad at you for hurting me when we were talking in your car, I know you didn't mean it, you just don't know your own strength. Please don't stay mad at me for long, I know I keep messing up, but you make me nervous and I get a little crazy. Your are the best guy I have ever dated and I don't want to lose you.

Forever,

Jasmine

October 19, 2009

Dear Isaac,

I'm glad you said it first, I was always worried that I would do it too soon and scare you off. Thank you for letting me stay at your place this past weekend, I had a great time. It was nice, just you and me, like a married couple all alone in your apartment. I'm glad my mom was out of town, she would probably freak if she knew I was already sleeping with you. She just doesn't remember what it was like to be young and in love. Hey, don't worry about my eye. I know you didn't mean to hit me, it was just a reflex. The bruise is almost gone so we can just forget about it all together. I can't wait to see you, I love you!

Forever,

Jasmine

December 25, 2009

Dear Isaac,

Thank you for letting me move into your apartment for these past couple of months. I don't know what has gotten into my mom, she's not usually like that. This is hard for me to say, but I think we would be better off just being friends from now on. I am moving out of your apartment and going to live with Jax. I don't blame you for anything, but I have to tell you that you scared me last week. I know that you are under a lot of pressure and I was being a bitch, but when you hit me like that I was actually afraid you were going to kill me. When you went for that knife I almost wet myself...I know that you didn't mean it, but I just can't live like that. I still want to see you, I just don't think we should date.

Forever,

Jasmine

January 5, 2010

Dear Isaac,

I'm sorry we called the police on you. You nearly gave Jax and me a heart attack when you threw that brick through her window. I hope you didn't get in too much trouble. I didn't expect you to react so strongly to my last letter...it was wild of you to go AWOL just to come and try to convince me I am wrong. I am sorry that this whole thing didn't work out better and I blame myself for that. Your brother tells me that you avoided any real punishment from the Army and are back on base, I'm glad to hear that. I know I said we could be friends, but I think it is just better for you to stay away from me for now until you calm down a bit.

Forever,

Jasmine

March 3, 2010

Isaac,

What the fuck do you think you are doing? You could have killed me, you could have killed my mother. You just stay the hell away from me. If you come near me again I will call the police and I promise you it won't be a slap on the wrist this time. You are fucking insane...Did you know that you burned down my garage? What if my car had been in there, or God forbid, a can of gasoline? Our whole place would have gone up in flames. Do you want my blood on your hands? Please, just leave me and my family alone!!

Forever,

Jasmine


Girl Found Dead, Boyfriend To Blame
Karen Stableman

At 8:59 am on April 5, 2010 Jasmine Blake, 18 of 2321 Maple Avenue was found stabbed to death in the lot next to her home. Ms. Blake had reportedly left her home early the previous evening headed to her friend's home, four blocks away. According to Jackie Lynn Givens several hours after Ms. Blake was supposed to arrive she became worried and called Mrs. Blake, the deceased's mother. After reporting Jasmine Blake missing, Mrs. Blake proceeded to call her neighbors and friends to find out if they had seen any sign of Jasmine. One neighbor , unnamed, reported seeing Jasmine leave with the boy she had formerly been dating, Isaac Cole. After questioning from the police, Mr. Cole confessed to the crime, at this time charges are still pending. No further information is available at this time as we were not allowed access to Mr. Cole.

Memorial Held for Murdered Girl
Karen Stableman

There will be a memorial held on Saturday, April 10, 2010 at 12 pm in honor of Jasmine Blake, the girl found slain in last week's brutal crime of passion. Friends and family will gather at Jasmine's favorite park to light candles and honor her memory with songs and retold memories. Mrs. Blake will be in attendance, the second time out of the house since the tragic death of her daughter. Previously, when asked to comment on her loss, she said only this, "She will live on with us in our hearts, our bright and cheerful Jasmine, forever."


*I would like to point out that most if not all errors in this story are intentional...I was writing as a seventeen to eighteen year old girl writing letters to a guy in the military so I assumed there would be some error in grammar and spelling and in the news article keep in mind that this is from a small town. I live in a small town and all of our articles sound exactly like these do.

Our fathers waged a mighty war
we know not what they fought it for.
The time has come to war again
though it could sign mankind's end.
We will fight and our blood will be shed,
then we'll nuke the place 'til everyone's dead.
I long for peace that our fathers once found
when they ended the war and turned it around.
We're facing the same storm our fathers went through,
but now, how to stop it? Ah, if only we knew!

About 37 minutes and 18 seconds...give or take a millisecond or so.

The lights were dim, the curtains hung heavily in front of her face, and there was a very loud silence waiting for her just beyond them. She had finally made it. She had reached the one place that she had longed for all her life. She was thrilled, excited, and terrified beyond reason. She stood there, center stage, waiting as her knees trembled like the gelatin her roommate had served at lunch.

Her name was Corriander Woode, and she couldn't help the small, smug smile that graced her otherwise stoic face, even though she knew it wasn't in character.She had been applying and auditioning for parts since the age of twelve, and each time she had been turned down. The rejection did not hurt her. The pain came from the look in her family and friends eyes when she came home with her shoulders slumped from yet another failed audition. It looked a lot like 'I told you so!' and felt even more like a slap in the face. Corriander understood, of course, why they did not believe in her though.

From an outsiders point of view she was beautiful. She had long flowing hair, black as a ravens wing, that swung down past her waist. Her eyes were large, expressive, and a shade of blue that most people found that they could not quite describe. Her complexion was smooth and ivory colored with a pinkish hue when she got angry or embarrassed. Her lips, though small, were perfectly shaped and their color allowed her to go without lipstick on most occasions. She had one of the most expressive faces that most had ever seen, and her graceful body, petite and strong, left nothing to be desired. Physically she was the perfect candidate for every single job she applied for, and yet still no one would hire her.

Corriander Woode was mute...To be mute and try to be an actress was like being blind and flying a plane. Each audition she went to was a suicide mission because she knew beforehand that she would crash and burn. To make matters worse, most people when told that she was mute, took it for granted that she was deaf, too. This lead to many hurtful and awkward situations because no one ever bothered to keep their opinions to themselves. She'd had to stand there time after time as her potential was debated upon. "She'd be perfect for the role, if only..."

Ah, if only. Not that it mattered now, though. She had finally found a role that suited her desire for the stage and peoples' desire to hold firmly to their preconceived notions of what she must be capable of. The role of a deaf mute girl who falls in love with the man she works for, but must find a way to tell him before he marries her horrible stepsister. A role where 'if only...' didn't apply anymore.

As she stood there trembling behind the velvet curtains, Corriander slowly slid her face into the broken frown of the girl she would pretend to be now. The curtain began to raise and she slipped silently in the role she felt born to play. Here she was not something to be fixed or molded, her mute mouth was not a blemish. She was finally just a girl like any other that had graced this stage, an actress whose silence was her voice and whose face would captivate any audience.

The cavernous house creaks around him, softly groaning his name. He sits alone night after night in his house that will never be a home. The fire pops and crackles before him catching the silver in his hair and making friendly shadows on the wall. What he wouldn't give to have it all, the love he could never give to anyone. If he still had the strength he would give back all the pretty things and the loneliness they bring. Give back all the lifeless green, the silver and the gold that have made his fading heart so cold.

He can't say he wasn't warned, he knew the life he lead. He remembered a time when life was grand and love was new, but still he went ahead. They told him find love before he waited too long, they said love lasts forever, but in the end those feelings fade. They lose their charm and nothingness slips silently into their place. Money can be earned and stolen, and given and taken and lost. He didn't listen and his chance slipped through his hands, a fool and his money just can not be taught. The cavernous house creaks, softly groaning his name. They had a lovely funeral....nobody came.

This is a new part of an old story I wrote in seventh grade...there is a back story to how these lovers came to kill one another like some kind of inverted Romeo and Juliet. I hope you like it!



The muted sound of the window latch lifting awakened Maya from a deep sleep. She silently fought her instincts, struggling to lay perfectly still and maintain the peaceful breathing rhythm of her former state of unconsciousness. Behind her a soft footstep fell upon the floor, her training took over and she knew in an instant that feigning sleep was done in vain. This intruder would not be fooled by her flimsy facade. She recognized the silent but firm stride, the shadow silhouetted on the wall in front of her by the moonlight streaming from the window, the clean smell of soap and soft hint of cinnamon that she had so adored in the life she left behind.

The intruder stopped a few steps from Maya's seemingly sleeping form. She could hear his breathing become ragged, as if he were trying to bring some intense emotion into check. As she waited expectantly she could feel his indecision tangibly filling the small room. At last, the decision made, he spoke. "Maya?" he sighed. Only one tiny word, barely a whisper, but to her it could well have been a roar, or more accurately a battle cry. As she heard his voice, she felt as though her chest had been torn asunder. The battle only just begun, and she had already been mortally wounded.

Maya gasped for breath, fighting against the pain that was washing over her in waves. She knew her assailant would hear the hushed struggle, but she could no longer control her breathing. Just as it seemed like she had gained control he spoke again and started the rush of emotion anew. Though she heard each word he spoke they held no meaning for her paralyzed brain. Maya breathed in deeply and let the life giving oxygen settle in her chest. When she breathed out her mind was clearer, and she started to comprehend the whispers that were assaulting her ears.

"Maya," he begged, "Please don't make me do this. I still love you, I want you back, but I am bound, just as you once were, by honor and the thirst for justice. I have my orders, but if you will come back I will spare you." He stopped then to breathe, it was obvious he expected her to reply. Retorts flew through her mind, but none were able to express the betrayal and pain she felt, so she remained quiet, still as stone in the darkness.

After a moment that might also have been an eternity, he began again. "What happened to you, Maya? You used to believe the same as I, that what we were doing was not wrong. You know that the loss of life is the price that must be paid for the greater good. Now though, you flit through night protector to those who used to hold the role of enemy." He paused, as if to regain his composure, and then went on in a plaintive tone, "Tell me, Maya, was it me? Did I not love you enough? I was a broken man when you left, I threw myself into my missions with a vengeance just to keep from going under."

Maya drew a deep breath preparing to break her silence, but he continued before she had the chance. "The worst part of the whole thing is that if you don't cooperate and I am forced to do away with you tonight, I will have to live the rest of my days knowing that you would have come back anyway. You would have returned to me eventually, to the life that you made for yourself. I know that you would have, because I was once in your shoes. I, too, left the comfort of home behind once to protect those I hate for fear of enforcing injustice, but I came back and so, too, would you. We are kindred spirits, my love, birds of a feather."

The words struck her like a hurricane, the compromise she had been about to propose swiftly died on her lips, crushed by the overwhelming fury building up inside her. Stealthily, she spun from the bed, through the air to land lightly on her feet. Crouching into an attack position, she looked him straight in the eye. "Azraiel," her voice trembled with the force of her anger as she spoke, " you do not know me as you think you do. I, for one, am a bird that has no feather." The silence following her statement filled the space between them, speaking volumes. Hesitating only a moment longer to let her message sink in, Maya attacked her one true love with the intent to kill.

Maya knew in her heart that she could not kill the dark angel she battled. Knowing as she did that the outcome would fall in his favor, she expected fear to course through her veins and fill her limbs with desperation. Her expectations were met only with regret and melancholy for the untidy task at hand. When the fighting had reached its peak and he delivered his death blow, she fell at his feet. As she felt unconsciousness surround her, she frantically searched the darkness until her eyes found his face. She used the last vestiges of her strength to memorize his heavenly face...the only face that had ever mattered.