Good-Bye Pikachu!

Pikachu left today. It happened while I was
leaving the car-park of Takashimaya - a
popular Japanese department store here in
Singapore. Thinking back, it seemed symbolic
that he should choose to go at that precise
moment and place. Why, you ask? Well, he
came from Japan, and Takashimaya is a
Japanese department store. As such, it fits
that his departure should happen on Japanese
soil, even if it's only by proxy.

It happened suddenly. There was a loud, gut wrenching beep, but to me it
sounded more like a painful shriek. I felt a lump in my throat, and an over
powering sense of loss. I picked up Pocket Pikachu, expecting, hoping to see
him looking back at me with those huge, expressive eyes. What greeted me
was a blank, empty screen with static Japanese characters.


This is what it said:
"Congratulations! You've reached 1,000,000 footsteps and 3293 hours."

That was it. He didn't even appear one last time to say goodbye. The last time
I saw him, he was playing with his yo-yo. I remember tapping on the screen,
seeing his mock expression of anger, and laughing as I hugged him close to
my heart.

Remembering was painful, so I did some math. 3293 hours... that means
approximately 138 days. I got him on 29th June and today is 13th November,
so I've had him with me for more than 4 months. I didn't realize it, since time
flies when you're having fun.

I don't know much about re-incarnation, but I think Pikachu will be reborn
again in the United States. His friends are there already, giving love and
companionship to many lucky people. My Pikachu will be among them, and
that makes me proud.

It started to rain when I finally placed Pikachu in my pocket for the drive
home. It got dark fast and I could hardly see with all the water. The rain
stopped after a while, but only after I had run out of tears to cry.

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

19 Warbeck Road

Something kept poking me in the spine. My body, however, was still asleep, only my brain was awake enough to take offense at the ongoing assault. I made a noise - inarticulate but rich with complaint.

"The baby is crying."

I wrestled with the blankets until I worked myself up on my elbows. If my brain hadn't been on half speed, I might have kicked Matthew as he resettled himself under the covers. I glared at him as balefully as I could manage considering the hour but decided that it was being wasted. I'd have to kill him in the morning.

I swung out of bed and jammed my feet in to slippers. I could hear the baby fussing. It was the type of restless complaint that was only barely worth waking up for. He was probably feeling just a little disjointed, I know I was. The move to England had been a suprise, we'd only been there for three weeks, in the house for one. He was just a little slow to settle.

I scuffed morosely down the hallway toward Adam's room. The door stood half open, the faint illumination from his night light spilled out into the hall. He was quieting down on his own, my pre-dawn sojour seemed to be wasted.

At that point the alien sounds that had been teasing for my attention made it through the sleep thickened barriers to my brain. Some one was humming - and it was coming from Adam's room.

My entire being went into she-bear mode, and I charged in to the room determined to protect my child, but there was no one there. No sign that any one had been there. I resisted the impulse to snatch the baby up, and quickly searched the room.

Wardrobe, changing table, crib, it was a short search, and it turned up nothing. I looked at Adam, fast asleep, his fists curled over his head. The flannel blanket was neatly tucked in. I stared. Adam never stayed tucked in for more than five minutes - never. Already his feet began their restless movements under the blanket, he'd be tangled or completely free of it in minutes. He always was.

I ran my finger down his soft cheek, and he sighed in perfect contentment. I smiled, my mind racing, my conclusions were fairly interesting. I wouldn't have to kill Matthew after all, I could scare him instead.

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

"There was no need to shove me out in to the cold last night, Adam was fine."

My husband looked up from his toast and newly discovered marmalade, "It was your turn, Kate," he said, munching, " And it is August. You were hadly likely to freeze," he grinned his lopsided grin at me, but I was not so easily distracted.

"Well, he'd already been seen to by the time I got to his room," I perched on the edge of a chair, my chin cupped in my hand.

Mattew looked at me oddly, "Huh?"

"I think we've got a ghost, Matt," I grinned, "Cool, isn't it?"

"A ghost? How do you figure?"

I told him of the night's event in great, possibly embelished detail, while Matthew stared at me.

"I think it might be a nurse ghost or a nanny ghost," I stopped, laughing, "nanny ghost," I chortled.

I stole a piece of toast, and headed toward the door in response to Adam's morning bellow. I looked at Matthew's blank expression, "try to work through it, dear, I have to get Adam."

I got Adam up and changed him, knowing full well that Matthew was watching me from the doorway.

"You're going to be late, Matthew."

Adam gurgled conversationally as I put him into a clean pair of overalls.

"You're kidding, right, Kate? A ghost? There isn't any such...." his head whipped around and he tested the air, "Do you smell that?"

I sniffed experimentally, and the baby grabbed my nose, "That's not helpful, Adam."

I carried him to the doorway and sniffed again. Matthew and I looked at each other, "Bacon!"

We galloped down to the empty kitchen where the aroma still lingered. Tha stove was cold, and I knew for a fact that there was not a scrap of bacon in the house.

"Wow, she cooks, too," I glanced at Matthew, "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

I put Adam in his chair and touched Matthew's forehead, but he pulled away, distracted.

"It can't be true, right? It couldn't really be a ghost, could it?" he asked almost plaintively.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it...."

"Oh, sure, I saw Poltergeist."

"I'll look into it," I promised soothingly, "Even if it is true, she makes a heck of a converstion piece."

He gave me a sour look.

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

It took a couple of months research, there really wasn't a lot I could find. The Blitz seemed to have made quite a snarl in any in depth research one may have wanted to conduct in London. But what I pieced together seemed to make sense.

"The house has two dates," I told Matthew one evening, "1848 is the earlier house, that burned, but not apparently to the ground in 1869. The place was rebuilt 1869/70."

Matthew peered at me over some tretise or other that he had dragged home, "And?"

I rolled Quack-quack Duckworth toward Adam's waiting arms, "I couldn't find out if there were any fatalities, but maybe not much would be made of a servant's demise."

Adam missed the wheeled duck, so I sent a multi-colored ball rolling toward him, "Also the date makes sense in view of Nanny herself," I said.

Matthew's brow furrowed, "How?"

"Her skirts. Havn't you heard her skirts? She must have a dozen layers of crinolin on. It follows that she must date from the age of big skirts, the mid-Victorian period when the house burned. QED."

"That's pretty thin, Kate."

"Well you heard the splashing down in the old scullery. That dates from the earlier period."

Matthew averted his eyes, he did not like to admit he had been hearing and smelling Nanny's goings on, too.

I retrieved the baby and the toys and deposited them all in the playpen, "I still think she probably died in the '69 fire."

"Well, I wish you would tell her that she's dead. Maybe if she knew, she would go away."

"I will not tell her any such thing. It may hurt her feelings."

He made a face, "Kate, hon, if you want to make a project out of this imaginary friend of yours, fine, but -- OW!" he grabbed his head and leapt to his feet, staring about wildly.

"She pulled my hair! That cow pulled my hair!"

Adam and I stared in amazement.

"Nanny!" bellowed Matthew, "Nanny, this is my home. If you intend on retaining your position here, I expect to be shown proper respect!"

An absolute silence descended on the room. Matthew stood in the center of the floor, arms crossed, waiting expectantly. Adam and I continued to stare. A subdued 'shush' of fabric on fabric - as if someone unsen had curtsied - emenated from in front of Matthew, then a rustling noise proceeded out the door and faded down the hall.

Matthew's expression crumpled shepishly, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets as he looked at me. I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing, and collapsed in a chair. Matthew flushed and beat a strategic retreat.

We all now tend to accept Nanny as a member of the household. I think we'll miss her when it comes time to move again.

By Solenoid (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

I wrote this. It is called "Clone's Tale."


* * * *

Far away in the land of Nimm there was a peaceful and magical Castle. The inhabitants prospered and sold their grain. That is, until Volrath came.
Volrath sent his Slivers to take the Castle for his own. The inhabitants fought bravely, felling each sliver with potent magical arrows of Striking, holding the Castle for many a moon.
Volrath was displeased by this, and so journeyed deep into the Shadow Planes to the lair of the Sliver Queen, the most Legendary and Powerful Sliver of all.

"I bow before you," lied Volrath humbly, "and ask your personal assistance on this matter. Many of your children have died in the land of Nimm, mercilessly hunted and killed by the ones who dwell there. I have done all in my power to stop them, but alas, I could not. Help them. Do not turn a cold eye and let them die."

The Sliver Queen threw her Pteranodon-like head skyward and screamed a primal scream. Then, taking to the sky, she burst through the ceiling of the cavern. The caves collapsed, burying Volrath alive with stone and ash.

* * *

At Castle Nimm, an unholy silence permeated the plain. From the parapets, the guards strained their eyes at the horizon. Quiet... then, like the sound of a million crystals shattering, the Sliver Queen broke through from another dimension.

The guards dropped their pikes in fright - this was by far the largest sliver they had ever seen with a wingspan longer than seven wagons and a mouth that opened wider than the drawbridge itself. When she shrieked, stone shattered, and with each scream, new slivers emerged from the void, summoned to her from the shadow plane as if by the force of her will.

The soldiers launched volley after volley of magical arrows, causing the spawn to fall from the skies. But they began to feel the deepest dread as their arrows ran low, and indeed, even with the magical arrows, not one could pierce the Queen Sliver's tough hide.

* * *

Deep in the barracks, the King sat solemnly on his throne. With his head in his hands he wept as he listened to the explosions all around. Lifting his head, he turned to Chaos, his Royal Honor Guard. "Indeed, Chaos, you have always protected this kingdom, but I fear now that there is nothing even you can do to protect us. Your troops fight bravely, and we have stopped the slivers for many moons, but the healing salve runs low, and I fear the end is near."

"Perhaps, perhaps not old friend." Chaos removed his cloak and hood, revealing himself to his King, and then, for the first time, the King laid eyes upon his Royal Protector as he truly was. Chaos' body morphed into an amalgom of faces, shapes, and forms. Chaos was not just a man, he was a Shapeshifter.

"Yes," said the King, "Yes! My... my old friend, you truly are the bearer of welcome surprises. I see that you may save us yet! Take care, loyal subject, and may you rise the victor in the name of our people!"

The King dubbed him thrice with the flat of his sword, then watched as the glowing shapeshifter left his chambers.

* * *

High in the battlements, Chaos emerged in his human form once more. His troops were in awe at his presence and envigored as he stepped to the catapult. "How goes it, lads?"

"Badly, Lord Chaos! We can handle a few sliver spawn, but not in these numbers. The Queen must be stopped, and yet we cannot. We are doomed unless we can stop her."

Chaos thought back to every form he had ever assumed, but there were simply none to match the Sliver Queen. Of course, there was one thing that just might work. Dangerous, but still, just might work.

Chaos sat atop the catapult stone which had already been loaded into the catapult. Drawing his sword, he slashed at the cord. He could barely hear the protests of his men as he whistled high into the air and straight at the Sliver Queen.

-To steal your form- he thought, -I shall have to touch you. I only get one try at this, I cannot afford a failure.- Chaos slashed off the heads of sliver-spawn as he flew, not allowing even one to touch him. As his momentum began to fail him, he took a rope from his side and bound it tight to the hilt of his sword. With a last mighty effort, he launched the sword blade-first at the Sliver Queen. The rope went by, somehow, in some way finding its target, nailed deep into the Queen's breast.

A cry of pain, and the Sliver Queen clawed viciously at the thorn, trying to dislodge it. Chaos swung himself higher and higher, kicking his flying attackers from the sky as he climbed toward the Sliver Queen. There was only one thing that might take out the Sliver Queen, and that was another Sliver Queen.

At last he reached her, but in pure anger she clawed a great gash into his chest. -Ah ha!- he smiled weakly as he fell to the ground, the warmness of his insides washing over him,
-Contact!-

Gaining strength as he fell, the Shapeshifter grew and grew. His armor burst apart as he grew wings and his pupils narrowed into tiny slits filled with fire. His gash closed up, his strength grew immeasurably. Almost full-size, Chaos arched up into the sky, his target: the Sliver Queen herself.

As he approached, his heart beat faster and faster, growing in size as his own body grew. He could feel his own intellect dwindle as he became more animal. His heart grew and grew, his mind shrank away, and finally, finally all that was left of his humanity was a distorted image of the Sliver Queen in the distance, her eye piercing into his own.

His heart beat, beat, beat - something was wrong - he could hear the call of the hive, of the Queen.

He tried to fight, tried, but could not. His body could not assimilate the complexity of the Sliver hive or the ancient vastness of the Sliver Queen. Similtaneously, he fought to become the Sliver Queen as he fought to remain human. His heart, now racing, reached its full size and then exploded inside him, seeping into the crevasses of every organ.

Chaos saw only red, only red, and yet as he fell to his death, he could still hear the shrieks of the swarm, no longer alien to him, welcoming him home.

By Amanda (Starkindler) on Unrecorded Date:

I love it, but why did he have to die? *weeps*

By Solenoid (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

You know, basically it keeps Paramount from capitalizing on my story with a lot of expensive low-plot sequels.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Magic game against a formidable foe, Sol? ;>

By Solenoid (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Actually, Wizards ripped off their idea for the whole Weatherlight Saga from my short story. You'll notice that they like to use Volrath a lot, though. Oh well - that's what you get for not copywriting your work!

By Amanda (Starkindler) on Unrecorded Date:

But he died? *cries*

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Probably both creatures destroyed each other, allowing Sol to narrowly avoid being stomped on that turn by his opponent. Don't look at it as the death of a character--merely an "unsummoning". He'll be back the next time Sol plays his deck, only the beauty is, since it's a shapeshifter, it'll be somebody else! L8R!

By Amanda (Starkindler) on Unrecorded Date:

Here's mine. It's called "The Little Cafe"

---------------
From below, he watched her sit at her window. He stood there, in awe, at the beauty of her movements. In his mind, he wanted her. Yet, he couldn't move from the position he was in.

The rain dripped from the dark sky. He kept his distance, but remained fixed on her imaged until she moved from the window. She slept and he felt a power within that desired her. Tonight was the night that she would become his, forever.

She slept. The visions of her deceased parents played in her head. Her long brown hair caressed the satin pillow. She tossed and turned. Sweat formed on her brow and she felt weak with fear. Outside, a presence waited to take her away.

His dark eyes played on. His rough handsome features formed and he became one with her. Their souls touched and he wanted to capture her, to take her away from the awful pain she endured. His soul knew what she felt. He felt her pain, her unbearable aching and he wanted to make her happy once more.

She tossed once more before she woke. The dream suddenly ended and she exhaled, frightened. Her green eyes scanned the room for a familiar face, but the only thing she saw was the bare white walls. She felt the anxiety of her dream. She needed to get out of her room, out into the cool fresh air of the night. She longed to feel the embrace of the sky.

She dressed out of her silk nightgown into blue jeans and a navy sweatshirt. She quickly ran for the door to escape the anger she felt. Her parents were dead and she had no one. No one to rely on. No one to turn to. She felt as if she was going to be all alone, forever.

Outside he pondered. What could he do to make her see that they were meant to be together? He wanted her for the eternity that awaited them both.

All of a sudden he could smell her. Her warm soft fragrance echoed in the night. Out of the apartment doors she came quickly. He watched, hidden in the night, as she approached her small red car that waited in the parking lot. She got in and drove. He felt that he needed to follow her, to find out where she was going, and to help her escape her nightmares. He got into his black truck and followed.

Their automobiles raced along. He stayed far enough away from her vehicle so she wouldn't panic. She turned a corner as the moon followed, to a small, deserted café beside the cinema on Locust Boulevard. He slowly joined her without her realizing. She curried into the café and took a seat in a booth. The booth was covered with leather the shade of blood. It squeaked as she took her place on the right. She brought out her journal as a short and chubby waitress brought over a menu. The waitress waited patiently as she only ordered coffee, black.

He entered the doorway of the little café and found himself drawn to her. He walked slowly to the booth that she was in and looked at her elegance. She turned and looked at him. She felt his soul reach within her body, feeling his power and his beauty. He said, "May I sit down? I don't like to sit alone."

She replied, "Sure. I don't like to sit alone, either."

By Amanda (Starkindler) on Unrecorded Date:

No one died in my story.

By Bryan (Houdini) on Unrecorded Date:

That was a great story. Very romantic and mysterious at the same time. I could actually empathise and feel the loneliness the two main characters experienced in the story, and the removal of that loneliness by the meeting of the two characters in the cafe. I like the way it leaves it hanging at the end. The story doesn't say that they eventually get married or live happily ever after, they just meet at the coffee shop. It is forever locked in that initial moment of joy that accompanies meeting someone. I like that. I also like the description of the cafe/diner. There is something uniquely american about the 24/7 dinner. Everytime I go to one of the old boxcar diners with plush red seats and bottomless cups of coffee, it is like taking a trip into the past.. a slice of true americana.

Cool story Amanda!

-Houdini

By I am (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

This is one I wrote over the summer one day for a talent show that night so its a quickie.
A Knights Return

The day started out like any other with the sun rising in the North. Yet I knew that something was wrong, not so much a feeling of dread as a feeling of something being just not…right. I walked out of my small cottage into the morning air took a deep breath, the air seemed to be less alive then before. Looking around I did not hear the sounds of the morning animals. The birds were not chirping their chicks were silent not begging to be fed.
I lifted my head as I heard footsteps coming in my direction. Looking up I saw no one. I squinted, still no one appeared to be coming, but the footsteps continued getting louder as they drew closer. As they got closer I could discern that they were the footsteps of a heavyset man or at least a very muscular one. This time when I looked I could just make out the silhouette of a man dressed in armor. I had however failed to notice the clops of the horse that the man led.
The man neither spoke nor knowledge my presence what so ever. I looked at the horse and saw that it was or looked as if it were mostly bone, as if it hadn’t been fed in weeks.
“Would you like to put your horse in my barn for a rest sir? I mean it looks as if it’s going to fall at any minuet.” I drew back at the gaze that came from the armored man. I could not see his face clearly but his eyes. His eyes I got quiet a good look at; they appeared to be sunken into his skull. I had seen that type of thing throughout my time as a soldier for the king; it was the look of a man that had seen too much death and destruction. But it was the color of his eyes that got to me. They were a deep crimson as the color of blood and in that color I saw the death and the horrors that he’d seen. I looked back to the horse and saw it for what it was and once proud and powerful war steed that had led the charges of many glorious battles, now only a ghost of what it once was. At the thought of ghost I realized what I was looking at. A knight and his mount that died in battle and was finally returning home.

By Amanda (Starkindler) on Unrecorded Date:

I'm so glad you liked my story, Bryan. It makes me feel good that it's touched others like it's touched me. I wonder what does happen in the end. I guess I'm going to leave that up to the imagination of my readers.

By Amanda (Starkindler) on Unrecorded Date:

Knight hawk, that was a very enjoyable story. Short, but sweet.

By I am (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Thank you.

By I am (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Ever Onward
“View the moment as if it were your last. Treasure the moments shared with the ones you love. Never give them up because they could be the only thing left after all is said and done.” Unknown
I remember the day it all ended. I remember the way her hair smelled, the way the clouds looked, how blue the sky was. I remember the sounds of the breeze blowing through the trees mixing with her laughter to make a sound that can never be duplicated. I remember the way she felt in my arms, the feeling of her lips on mine as we kissed. But most of all I remember the look in her eyes as the bullet tore through her flesh and ripped her heart in two. I remember the pain I felt as the bullet hit me in the chest throwing me away from her.
That was a long time ago and the world and I have changed in many ways. No longer do people walk in the open for enjoyment. No, they walk outside of their homes only if they have to, preferring to take the warptubes. Those who do walk outside do so armed and at personal risk to their wellbeing.
I myself am on the outside often and always heavily armed. My most trusted companion has become the Desert Eagle strapped to my chest. The twelve-inch knife in my boot still longs for the taste of blood it has sampled on so many occasions. The rest of my arsenal lies in the place I call home, waiting for me to use them in the way they were created. Only in this way is the hunger in my soul satisfied.
Like much of the scum in this galaxy I have altered my body through the use of cybernetics. I am more machine than the flesh and blood of those around me, and to tell you the truth I don’t regret it at all. My heart has become a shallow grave for the man I once was. Nothing of him remains save the memory held in my armored head.
About thirty years earlier the universe had become too small for the egos of the galactic leaders. The main target however was Earth. Instead of being the virtuous peacekeeper that it was portrayed as in the movies, the Earth Force was going at this war tooth and nail.
None of the worlds wanted to use the devastating nuclear weapons that were still left after the anti-nuclear treaty of 2059. Yet each side needed a weapon to overpower their enemies. The Earth Force was the first to employ the cyber-netic warriors called Cyber-Naughts. I was among the first to be altered in this way due largely to the fact that I was not expected to survive my wounds from the gunshot.
The war dragged on till no one could remember exactly why the war had begun and from there it slowly eroded to a few petty squabbles in some of the border worlds. The Cyber-Naughts were then used as intergalactic police patrolling the worlds and trying to keep the peace as best as they could.
Violence had become a part of my soul and my blood burned with a yearning for more. This being the case I became a mercenary and bounty hunter, but not before I sought out the man who killed my wife. What I did to him can never be repeated nor do I wish anyone to know what happened that day. Suffice to say he will never walk this planet to harm another being.
It didn’t matter what the job was I did it and did it to the satisfaction of my employers. I became something close to the character called Boba Fett. In fact I took that last part as my name and became known as Fett Griffon, a bounty hunter feared and hated. My first job was to locate and eliminate the president of a weapons manufacturing organization that was encroaching on the Mobs territory. Instead I killed his ten-year-old son and mailed him the head.
I later sent him the body of his wife minus the head and gave him explicate instructions to leave the system. He of course sought retribution. So I was forced to kill him. I would have killed him anyway but I love the feeling of combat. My employers were extremely impressed and tripled my pay for my creativity.
With my heart growing ever colder and my reputation farther I found myself on worlds man had never even dreamed existed with sights beyond the imagination. But even seeing these didn’t breach the walls of my soul, as it grew darker with each passing day swallowing me into its blackness.
I am now on a job hunting down the ambassador of the planet Andromada. His only crime was that he breathed. As I said before, it doesn’t matter what the job entails as long as the pay is good and I satisfy my ever-growing hunger for blood. I have recently become known as a vampire because I drain the blood from my kills. What I do with it has never been brought to light but the press believes I drink or bathe in it to keep my body young. Of course this is not possible since I no longer require food and the cyber-suit has brought my aging to a slow crawl. I will live beyond the second-generation descendents of any one alive today.
I rarely think back on the days before I became what I am and I don’t regret it. I have no regrets. I don’t feel nor do I care. Life and death are the only things I care about, my life and their deaths. I am beyond depression or hopelessness which would impede upon my ability to do my job and only make living that much harder. There is nothing outside of what I do. There is nothing outside of who and what I am. I know that after I complete this job there will be another and there will be more after that. My journey will never end, for I will keep going ever onward till the day there is no one left to die.

By I am (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Just a quick note I wrote this shortley after my Fathers death. A lot of what the character is saying and feeling I felt for quiet some time. Truth be told I still have many of those feelings, I wake up at night sad and alone just hopeing that tommarow brings another sun. Before you get to feeling sorry for me I must admit that due largely to my high school class I am and will always be a lone wolf with few close friends and a reliance on the friendship of the silence of solitude.

By Amanda (Starkindler) on Unrecorded Date:

Very sad.

By Amanda (Starkindler) on Unrecorded Date:

This was written spontaneously in 1998 for an English class. I used it as a journal entry.

****

One

The snow falls lightly as I walk nonchalantly through it. It is a crisp evening in the sight of God. The stars, one by one, twinkle in the dark sky, lighting the way of followers. I walk, unsure of where I am headed.

Fresh snow is mixed with snow that is a day old. A mixture of sounds come from beneath my feet, in which, are covered with brown leather boots. I continued my walk, a forest closing in on me, and look at the odd shapes of the trees. Their brown exterior rises up above me, throwing off glances that appear frightening to me. I proceed on, ignoring the look they present.

The snow lessens as the forest gropes my surroundings. Trees everywhere close in on me. The path on which I tread becomes smaller, mud seeps around my boots, and the sound from which the snow made, disappears. Silence is all I hear, except for the melancholy call of the night owl.

I am short of breath, so I stop and catch it, listening to the silence and the owl who are one. Transfixed as I am, I move on, once more and stare about the environment that has engulfed my soul in curiosity.

The darkness clings to my eyes and I squint, looking for familiarity. Where am I headed to, I question myself? I conclude my walk and the clothing in which I wear becomes drenched from the unending dampness of the night. I pull my cloak tighter around my solemn body, trying to reach warmth. I do not, and shiver from the eternity of coldness that I must keep.

My heart reaches an aching, of the coldness in which I endure, and of the sorrow in which I feel, for my destiny is unknown. The coldness that I had felt leaves my body. I'm numb to it, frozen in fear of what I am to become.

The darkness slowly leaves me and I am paralyzed to the nights longing to stay, yet dawn slowly interrupts and comes into view. I see it with new feelings. The sun warms my unfeeling body and I feel a satisfaction that I will make it, as a human being, as someone who is one with the earth.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

I'm writing this now, in this topic, since I can't think of anywhere else to write it... I just feel like writing something. I'll apologize before-hand if it makes no sense or has no plot or whatever, since it'll be largely free-form, spewing from my brain, through my hands, and onto the computer...

By I am (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Here part of a larger story a began to write for my College creative writeing course. It's based on 'Vampire: The Masquerade' role playing game.


Dayless Lives: One Last Sunset

I watched from the motel roof as the silver disc of the moon rose from the horizon, slowly it began its trip across the night sky. Below me the day world was winding down as the night world took over. The clubs would be opening soon and the Kine would be herding through the streets like the cattle they are. As I watched them mill about like lemmings I began to prepare for my nights activities.
When I see her my sire calls me John, however I still don’t know why. To many of the Elders I am simply Whelp, but to my friends I am Michael St. James or just Mike. I was Embraced some one hundred years ago and in that time I have lived off of the “victims” of three wars and countless skirmishes.
I made my way to the Raven, the only nightclub that caters to my tastes; it is also the meeting place of the cities Prince Frederick Deagestino. As I walked in the song playing on the jukebox assaulted my ears.
You can always tell when the Neonates are the most prevalent because Bauhaus' “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” was always playing. Walking over to the jukebox I unplugged the power cord. All eyes in the room became focused on me at the sudden stoppage of the music. I got dirty looks from the Neonates at the bar and restrained nods of approval from the Elders at the tables. I plugged the jukebox back in and made my selection before I headed for the bar. “Who Wants to Live Forever” began to play as I reached the bar, the Neonates made a hole for me but they still glared at me for changing the song.
“What’ll it be friend?” The bartender asked.
“A glass of the freshest and best you’ve got.” Unfortunately no matter how fresh they claim it to be it still far less filling then if I were to go out and get it myself.
“Sure.
“Touch that jukebox and I’ll cut off your credit as well as your arm.” He yelled at the Neonate who was about to unplug the jukebox, undoubtedly to start the previous selection over again. “I don’t like having my stuff f@34%d with.”
The Neonate opened his mouth as if he were about to protest about me being able to but thought better of it with the threat from the bar tender. The bar tender poured a red liquid into the wine glass in front of me still watching the Neonate slink back to the bar. I sipped my drink waiting for the inevitable; it came as I took my second sip. A hand touched my shoulder and a man dressed all in black leaned next to my ear.
“The prince will see you now,” he said.
“Thank you.” I added a growl into my voice so that my response was not too polite. Standing up from the barstool I finished off the remaining liquid in my glass and followed the man to the door at the back of the bar.
As I stepped through I noticed that the door was made of stainless steel and was about four inches thick. There were two guards on this side of the door, both were armed with automatic assault rifles no doubt loaded with White Phosphorous incineration rounds; better known as “Dragons Breath”. The stuff burns anything it is fired at, including the gun it is fired from. They were likely stationed here to stop anyone who broke through the door; however I wondered if the two would be enough to stop anyone with the strength to knock down a door like that.
The guards watched me carefully as I walked down the hallway following my guide. We walked down the hallway that seemed longer than it possibly could until we finally reached a door that he stopped at. He opened the door and motioned for to enter.
The room was large with two bay windows one on each of the walls that flanked the one with the door I had just walked through. The window to the left looked out onto the streets of the city while the one to the right looked out into the bar. I had somehow gone up to a second story without realizing it nor had I noticed the window when I had entered the club. There was a desk at the end of the room between the two windows but placed close to the wall. I could see a row of security monitors on the wall behind the desk. On one I noticed the hallway I had entered but this time there was about ten guards all armed with assault rifles station at the door.
“Please, have a seat.” It was more of a command than a request coming from the man seated at the desk. From what I could see he had dark hair that he wore pulled into a tight ponytail. His features were like those of a hawk with sharp eyes and a hooked nose that resembled a beak. His complexion was fair and he was a pale white; I wondered if he had been out to feed yet. He wore a black Armani suit, which was accented by the gold studded cuffs at his wrists, and the jewel encrusted tiepin.
“Thank you my prince,” I said sitting down.
The prince leaned forward in his chair and steepled his hands as he looked at me and then began to stare into my eyes. “Now my dear Michael what is your purpose for coming to my city?” He continued to stare into my eyes and I noticed his flash slightly warning me not to stray from the truth. I had heard stories of Kindred that had dared lie to a prince; their remains are still to be found.
I sat straighter in my chair and cleared my throat trying desperately to keep it from faltering. “Right now I’m just looking for a more suitable place to stay. Something a little safer than the Days Inn I’m staying at now.”

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

The Gift
by: SoL


Roger pushed through the crowds... it was the mall, the holiday season. He was busy buying for his family and friends. The lights burned in his eyes, his ears rung with the clamour, and then he took an elbow in the jaw as someone tried to wriggle past him to the Pokemon display in front of We R Toys!

Next to him in line was an attractive woman with a shopping bag in one arm and a purse in the other. "Nice holiday," he said. She didn't respond, just blew a pink bubble with her gum, snapped it, and stared out into space. Kids tugged at her skirt, screaming about the toys they wanted and she would absently swat them away. One of the kids looked ahead to an action figure display, spotted one that he wanted, and started to gibber, "I want it! I want it! It's the Robotoid Rangers!" He pushed through the crowds and grabbed for an action figure on the shelf. "Hey," said the teenage clerk, "Wait in line!" It was too late. Little Johnny was stuffing three, four, five figures into his coat as the clerk tried to wrestle them free. The boy's mother yelled at him from somewhere, unable to penetrate the crowd to the front, but shoving people left and right as she tried. The other kids in the mall noticed the fiasco, and not wanting to miss out, launched themselves at the display, each grabbing for their favorite toys in an attempt to grab some wealth for themselves before all was taken. Six-year-olds cried as ten-year-olds pushed them down, and soon the store clerk was drowned as angry parents went pushing forward to help their children prevail.

An hour later, Roger made it to the front of the line. "One Gold Robot Ranger, please."

"Sorry, sir, all we have left is Doofy the Wondercrud." Roger looked to his left - the display was wrecked - all that remained were about a billion Doofies. Roger shrugged, took one, and then glanced at his shopping list. One, he said, crossing out the top name.

* * * * *

Roger fought his way out of the mall with his four huge shopping bags. At first, he could hardly see, then he spilled one - the gadgets and brick-a-brack fell everywhere. He stooped down, setting the paper bags into the snow as he wrestled to repack the first one. Little by little he refilled it, then tried to regain his psychotic balancing act, all the while losing more as his water-soaked bags began to tear through. Onlookers walked by, but similarly encumbered, were unable to do more than hurry on by. At last, he dumped the morass into his trunk as if pouring water from a pitcher... wet paper mess and all.

* * * * *

Gas was almost empty. He went to the gas station - there was only one nearbye, and this one was right next to the mall. He shuddered as he realized that the line of honking cars was actually a line to the gas pump. Well, he sighed, at least I get to sit down for a while. Roger inched and inched toward the pump. He turned on his radio to try to drown out the noise, but there was no music... just commercials. Feeling hassled this holiday season? Just one big fiasco? Well, come to Bargain Bin City, where you can buy, buy, Buy everything you ever wanted! Don't be left out, get your loved ones the things they WANT at...

He clicked it off. It was getting really stuffy in his car, he couldn't escape... he grasped his neck and loosened his scarf. Then he brought down the window. It was freezing, but he let the gas-soaked fumes into his car anyway. Roger coughed, then realized he smelled burning, and his car stalled. The needle... empty. And as he turned his key to the off position, and as the sound of his engine died away, he could hear in its place hundreds of beeping cars behind him, headlights flashing in the dark, trying to get to the pump. Roger looked forward - still 20 cars away from the Self Serve. He opened the door to jump out - both sneakers went straight into an ankle-high puddle of freezing water. Roger groaned, then shuffled through the water to the back of his car and started to push...

* * * * *

His car complained as he pulled into a parking space at the super-market. Roger hadn't even tried to get a close parking space. He trudged through the snow to the seeming oasis of Groceryplex. All the carts were soaking wet with slush-snow, but Roger took one anyway, trying his best to dry it with his sleeve. The store was surprisingly busy for this time of night, and Roger smiled slightly to himself as he passed under the huge glowing sign - "Open 24 hours." The bodies of shoppers assaulted him on every side, pounding against him. His body responded not at all, as if it was a dead fish being pounded with a hammer. Roger, dazed, slowly worked through the store, following the list to the letter - 6 pies, 8 hams, 2 turkeys, wine, and 12 party trays. Santa laughed and rang his little bell as Roger pressed by - "Two Honey Glazed Pork Butts for the price of One! Ho ho ho ho!" Roger took four.

* * * * *

He popped an Advil and drank a Choco-Caffine Cooler to wash it down, staring dumb-founded as the conveyer belt pulled his purchases ceaselessly toward the cashier. Roger pressed his palm against his forehead and tried to blink out the pain. Then he realized that the cashier was talking to him.

"Sir! Sir!" she said, holding up a deck of playing cards. They weren't his - they'd fallen accedentally onto the conveyer belt. "Sir! Do you need these?"

Roger looked at the playing cards, at first confused... the Jester... he straightened, a certain life came back to him. He turned to the cashier, and with warm eyes smiled and said, "No, I don't really need them. I don't really need any of this." He pushed out through the front of the store, leaving all of his groceries there on the belt, buying instead just some bread and cheese. He went out to his car, drove by the Salvation Army and dumped the presents - every last one.

* * * * *

He left his car on the expressway with the Title on the seat and put on the hazards. Roger tightened his scarf and pulled down his hat. There was a pink glow on the horizon - a city. The glow illuminated the snow with an almost transcendant light - there was no darkness in between. He hopped the rail and left the expressway. With bread in one hand and cheese in the other, he took a last look at his car and walked away.

By Amanda (Starkindler) on Unrecorded Date:

Excellent story! What happens next?

By Who yo Daddy? (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Then he gets cold, changes his mind, gets back in his car, goes home and has egg nog. ;)

No, no, just kidding. But so glad you liked it!

Sol

By Margravine (Ranger) on Unrecorded Date:

Ingenerate

South China Sea 1821

Suki had never know any other life but the pirate junk. As far as she knew, she had always been on board. Over the years she had carved out a niche for herself as one of the ships cooks, squatting over her brazier at the stern of the junk in all but the worst weather. She protected herself by being unnoticeable, hiding behind a mask of dirt and a curtain of matted hair. She seldom spoke to any one, and almost never made eye contact. Her precautions were not always successful in shielding her from the crew's attentions, but at least such attentions were minimal.

She pushed the mat of filthy hair from her eyes with one bloody hand. She quickly chopped the eel laid out before her into even slices, scarcely looking at what she was doing. She listened without appearing to as the discussion between Captain Keung and his first mate, Chu, escalated into an argument. Most of the crew were still asleep below deck or Chu would never have been so bold.

She butchered a young shark, and threw the chunks into the soup pot bubbling gently over the flame. She brushed her fingers across her cheek, adding another layer of grime to her face before wiping her hands on her trousers.

The argument between the two pirates was about direction, she realized, where to best hunt their next trophy. The captives they had taken two days ago had proven disappointing. The high born Manchu woman had thrown herself into the sea, and her companion had proved himself too soft for the life of a slave and too poor to bother ransoming.

Suki frowned unconsciously, she could not conceive of any reason worthy of committing suicide. The life she led caused her to grasp it with both hands and take all that it could give. Her life was not much, but she was too intelligent not to know there were options. She was just biding her time - where there was life there was hope.

The captain seemed to have won the argument. He began screaming orders and the square rigged junk sailed clumsily north. Junks were designed as coastal vessels and were not much in the open sea, so it was a rare day when they lost sight of land completely. But in order to hunt the western ships that had been coming to Indochina, the captain had to find their shipping lanes, and ambush them there.

Once on their way, Suki dished out breakfast for the crew, dodging both blows and gropes with practiced ease. She made sure that the Tamil, Monshu, got some meat in his portion. He was the only crewman who treated both captive and slave decently, and he had actually spoken to Suki as if she were a person.

The crew hurried through their food. They would have to sail hard all day if there was a hope of making a safe harbor that night.

The brief tropical twilight had already passed into darkness when the sails were furled for the night. The crew seemed subdued. Conversations were quiet, drinking was minimal, and the women were largely ignored. Suki packed away her wooden bowls and cooking chopsticks. If there were to be a battle tomorrow, they would just be in the way.

The two masted schooner was set with a single topsail and was making good time in the freshening evening breeze. She would have to slow, however, to tack around the shallow water reefs that Keung had chosen as the pirate's hunting ground. The area was well chosen for ambush.

The pirates drove the slaves and women below deck in anticipation of the coming battle. Suki hated waiting in the foul darkness of the hold. Drowning in the hold with the rats was always a real possibility in any fight. The captain before Keung had lost the other two junks of their fleet.

Suki heard the schooner's four-pounder fire. The crew of the junk bellowed as one, and the battle was joined. She rested her forehead on her knees, and tried to block out the noise. She closed her eyes in the darkness and waited.

The gunfire ceased eventually but the noise from above seemed undiminished. A square of yellow light shone abruptly down on the upturned faces in the hold as the hatch was opened.

Rough voices raised in command, shrill voices protesting, neither understanding what the other was saying, only understanding the tone.

Suki counted three new arrivals as they were shoved into the hold, one man and two women. Their faces glowed with the alien paleness of the westerner. Suki guessed that the man was the schooner's captain. He wore the brass buttoned blue coat that she had seen before. His face was flushed darker than that of the women and he blustered loudly to all who would listen.

Suki heard Chu as he listed the junk's casualties for the captain. Eight dead, including Monshu and seventeen wounded.

An ember of rage ignited in Suki. If hatred had been a blade, both captains would have died where they stood. She never realized how important Monshu's small kindnesses had been in her life, and these fools had killed him.

She purposefully shifted her glance from the hairy faced western captain, and was caught by the intense gaze of the taller woman prisoner. She seemed calm, even dignified though her hair had fallen and her hat had been knocked askew. Blonde tendrils fell well past the woman's shoulders, and her strange blue eyes held Suki's gaze in a way that felt almost physical.

Unused to prolonged eye contact, Suki struggled to break the grip of those blue eyes. When at last she succeeded, she could not help a final furtive glance. The strange woman's mouth lifted slightly in the smallest of smiles.

The smaller of the two women seemed to be the blonde woman's servant. She seemed no more concerned about their capture and imprisonment than her mistress. Suki shuddered at their alieness. She felt a superstitious prickle at the back of her neck as she noticed that the blonde woman's eyes seemed to reflect red in the lamplight. Slowly, she tried to fade unobtrusively into the shadows, but she knew she was unsuccessful. At every turn she could feel the eyes of the blonde woman upon her, even as she worked her way deeper into the hold. At last, in the darkest hours of the morning, Suki fell into an exhausted doze deep in the bowels of the junk.

She awoke about sunset, having slept the day away. She knew she should be concerned for her position. She knew the captain would be angry if he missed her. But at that moment, her only concerns were the raging thirst that gripped her, the foul taste in her mouth, and the stench of the junk's bilges, which struck her like a physical blow. She could not remember ever having felt so ill before. She curled into a fetal ball and covered her ears against the terrible noise around her. To her dismay she could hear just as well through the feeble protection of her hands.

After a few minutes of adjustment, she realized that she could sort the sounds, that it was a whole concert rather than one continuous clamber. Though her hideaway was below the water line, she could hear the sound of the water being pushed to either side as the junk plowed through the waves, she could hear familiar voices above her on the deck, she could hear the calls of seabirds, and most maddeningly of all, she heard the irregular drumming of almost two score heartbeats all around her.

Suki bit her fist as she tried to stave off panic. Her immediate and inarguable instinct was to hide. She tried to burrow deeper into the nest of rags, but the options offered by the junk's interior were limited. She knew she would be missed, she probably already had been, but she also doubted that anyone would care enough to look for her as long as the they were still feeling the after effects of last night's celebration.

Without thinking, Suki pulled at the shadows around her, cloaking her hiding place from prying eyes. Then, for the first time, she wept - but she shed no tears.

For three days the junk kept a northerly course while Suki hid in the hold, convinced that the incessantly hammering hearts were driving her mad. It had occurred to her on the second day to listen for her own heartbeat - the silence she heard was deafening.

The thirst that she had felt on the first day had worsened to the point of torture. The water she had taken had done no more than cause her to heave until she was exhausted. She could even feel the thirst through the unnatural sleep that came upon her every morning. But still, she struggled against it.

On the eighth evening, she lost the fight.

She stood on the bloody deck looking about her. She had no memory of the frenzy that had gripped her; she saw only the results. Thirty-eight bodies ripped apart. Thirty-eight souls sent to their respective hells. Twenty-eight murders to atone for. Of the blonde woman there was no sign, but her servant and the western captain were among the dead.

Suki licked blood stained lips and shuddered. Never again, she promised herself, never. She stripped off her blood caked clothing and walked between the corpses to the captain's quarters. She took a red silk cham song that had belonged to the captain's woman. She took three sets of tunics and trousers, but there were no shoes small enough to fit her. Not that she had ever worn shoes before in any case. She took all the cash she could find and then wrapped her acquisitions tightly in a long oilskin and slung it over her shoulder.

She gathered all the oil she could and spilled it across the deck. She thought briefly of the nine man prize crew that had sailed ahead with the captured schooner, and spit for luck. They at least had had luck enough.

She pushed her brazier over and watched as flames raced across the deck, fanned by the sea breeze. Golden light reflected off her naked skin and for a brief moment she contemplated staying and burning along with the junk. Then she shook her head, turned, and dove into the sea. The light from the burning junk shone on the water like a golden pathway leading to a shoreline some two miles distant.

Suki took one last look at they dying junk then set off swimming strongly for shore. She fought to keep her mind blank, but it was impossible. She had been thrown unasked, unwilling, untested, and untrained into an entirely new existence. She promised herself she would find a way back - a way out of this unlife chosen for her but not of her choice. And she promised herself one last killing - she would find the blue eyed devil who had taken away her life, and she would pay her back.

Her future had been chosen for her, but she had no intention of rolling over and accepting it. The life of meek acquiescence was over. She would chose her own path or be destroyed in the attempt. Behind her, the flames had reached the water line. A hissing billow of steam rose up from the junk's remains as they slipped under the water, and the night sank into darkness.

By THE ALL POWERFULL (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

This is chapter one of the story idea I had last week. It runs a bit long and is wordy but thats because it gives a run down of the history to date. It may be a little slow but give it a chance.


Death of Innocence
Damien Ertle


Chapter 1
September 3, 2459
The halls were quiet as the old man walked through them. He looked out the window and saw what he always saw as he followed this daily ritual. Outside of the quiet hallways beyond the protection of the steel dome that stood over his head was the crushing pressure of the deep ocean.
Shaking his head the old man continued to walk down the hall. Ahead of him stood an open door with a soft light spilling out. The old man walked to the door and looked inside, sitting on the floor was a young girl intent on the book in front of her. As he watched her she brushed a strand of her red hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. Her features were hidden in shadow with the light of the fire coming from the other side. As she read her face took on a look as if something was bothering her.
“What’s wrong Kelly?” The old man asked.
“Huh, oh hi Grandpa. Well I’m trying to understand this history lesson that Nana told me to read.” Kelly responded. Nana was the instruction robot his son-in-law had bought for the girl. Her mother had died when she was just a baby and her father was always at work, leaving her in the care of the robot most of the time. It was a useful educational tool but as far as being a capable parent it came up lacking.
“Well maybe I can help.” The old man offered.
“Um, it’s about the third world war. I just don’t understand what happened, I mean I understand what happened during the war and after it, but what I don’t understand is why.”
“Why what child?”
“Why did it start? The book only says that there was an accident that caused it. Grandpa you were alive at that time what happened?” Kelly asked looking straight at him with her emerald green eyes. It was at times like this that the girl reminded him of his daughter.
In many respects Kelly was very much like her mother, the same color hair the same color eyes the same facial features that looked innocent and yet full of a knowledge only gained through years of experience. Her mother had been dear to the old man and her death had ripped a large piece of soul from his heart. But through Kelly the old man had been able to deal with and eventually get over the loss.
“No one knows for sure what caused the accident but we do know that it was in the first hours of that war that the continents were made unlivable. It started early on a Friday morning in 2387. I remember it because it was my first day in the aquanaught training facility.
“I had just joined up and was preparing for the first day of instruction. I had already gone through the boot camp training and had completed the basics of hand-to-hand combat and firearms training. On my graduation day I requested a consideration for the aquatic combat training. Once my application had gone through I was sent to the station off of the Antarctic coast. While it was considered one of the worst places to be stationed it was also the best.
“The main operations portion of the base was located in the ice while the training area and barracks were located under the water. It was there that I spent most of my time getting to know my ship and how it worked as well as how to become a member of and function as a part of a squadron.” The old mans eyes seemed to glass over as he ran through the memories of that time.
“Originally it would take us about a year to get through training but given the circumstances our training schedule was reduced to four months.”
“Grandpa? Was it hard to pilot those old fighters?” Kelly asked.
“Oh no, it wasn’t the piloting that was the hard part it was watching out for our wingmen and our surroundings.”
“You mean the colonies?”
“Not so much that as it was the aquatic life. Because at that time the aqua colonies were not that numerous or complex. They tended to be spread out and small, not like the mega colonies we have today. Back then a colony averaged about the size of a large city. Whereas now they can be as large as a state.”
“State? That was what the old USP was wasn’t it?”
The old man laughed, “No. First of all it was the USA, The United States of America. Secondly The US wasn’t a state as it was a group of fifty states. A state was like a province of sorts with its own limited government that all answered to a higher source.”
“The president?” Kelly offered.
“Exactly. Now the first aquatic cities were established sometime in the early 2160’s and they expanded from there. It had been a goal of the governments of the world for a long time to establish a station out in space but when that became too expensive it was decided to try it in the oceans.
“The very first station was set up by a group of governments but it was never completed due to a disagreement as to where it should go. The alliance soon fell apart with everybody attempting to make their own cities. It wasn’t until 2168 that the first aqua city was successfully built and then it was a military base for the US. That was followed by an attempt by the Russians to establish their own base but they chose an unstable area and the base sank to a point beyond its pressure threshold.”
“So it was crushed.”
“Indeed it was, and the Russians stopped their attempts when their lead scientist was killed. The US realized the benefits and uses for these aqua cities and offered to help the Russians complete the city. It was finished in 2175 and from there the two countries began to set up further cities for themselves as well as aid other countries in their endeavors. It was at this point that a time of peace unlike any known on the planet began and the wealth and prosperity was enjoyed by every human being.”
“So what happened Grandpa?” Kelly asked.
“Well by this time the awe and wonder of the aqua cities disappeared and they became just another everyday thing.”
“So they were no longer being built?”
“Not as much as before, in the early 2300’s there were as many as fifteen cities being built at any given time by the late 2360’s that number had dropped to about three cities. But by then there were as many as 130 cities completed and full of people.”
“So when were the battle fleets formed?”
“Now you have to realize that there were battle fleets in existence well before anyone knew what the US was. They weren’t as advanced as those today but they existed. But as for today’s battle fleet, the designs for the attack subs were completed as early as the late Twenty-first century. From there on they became more refined and cost efficient.”
“What do you mean Grandpa?”
“Kelly Submarines have been around for a very long time, the first subs were attack vessels used to destroy ships. These vessels were large and needed a crew to keep them running. It wasn’t until the late twentieth century that submarines were used for exploration, and even then they required two man crews and could only go down so far. The first true one-man attack submarine was not fully functional and useable until some time in the mid twenty-first century.
“Our attack subs today are more like the jet fighters of long ago. Anyway I’m getting off track here. What happened exactly is as I said unknown but at about seven o’clock on that Friday morning the president received a fax from the Russian Premiere that a large number of their defense missiles had gone off and were heading toward random targets that the computers deemed a threat. This unfortunately included the White House where the President lived and worked.
At five past the hour the missiles hit the US and devastated most of the country. The war computers at our own defense facilities automatically retaliated. Ten minutes later the land portion of the war was over and the underwater hostilities began.” The clock on the mantle softly chimed out the hour to be midnight. “Dear me Kelly I didn’t realize it was so late. It’s time for you to go to bed.”
“But Grandpa.” Kelly pleaded.
“Off to bed with you, I’ll tell you more in the morning.”
“Ok Grandpa, good night.” Kelly said kissing the old man on the forehead.
“Good night Kelly.” The old man watched his granddaughter walk out the door. Once she was gone he settled into the chair and watched the fire. As he watched the flames dance he listened to the crackle and the pops and slowly his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

This is a fragment of the story I started yesterday. Comments are accepted and appriciated. I would also like to hear some suggestions for a title.

Untitled
Damien Ertle
July 5, 2000


The walls glowed with an eerie unearthly light that could only be made by magic. Jason walked down the hall uneasily with his sword held ready. He had already gone through two levels of the labyrinth but knew he was close. The upper levels had been lit with regular torches but now Nor Goth’s magic was at work.

Jason looked around a corner and drew a sharp breath, three Hell Hounds waited for him. Taking a deep breath he gripped his sword tighter and stepped around the corner. The first two creatures immediately ran at him baring their fangs and growling at him menacingly. Jason side stepped quickly and brought his sword down severing the head of one of the hounds.

He turned his attention to the second when he was struck from behind and driven to the ground. Jason rolled throwing the third hound off balance enough to knock it loose. Getting up quickly Jason drew his dagger as the second Hell Hound jumped at him. Jason sank his dagger into the hounds flesh but not deep enough to kill it nor fast enough to avoid getting bitten. Jason shoved the beast off and staggered back, he looked at the two creatures and realized he was unarmed.

The wound burned as the poison ran from the hound’s saliva into Jason’s bloodstream. Clenching his teeth Jason concentrated for a second as he drew on his inner strength and summoned a lighting bolt that struck both Hell Hounds dead. Breathing heavily Jason drank a poison antidote and retrieved both his sword and dagger.

The door behind him opened and the light from in the room blinded him briefly, there was a laughter coming from the room that sent shivers down his spine. It was Nor Goth; Jason had finally reached his goal. There was a second voice coming to him, it was far away but it was calling his name. Jason saw the image of the princess in front of him. She was calling his name and beckoning to him to enter the room and take on his destiny. But as he began to walk forward her image began to waver and though he was walking forward the doorway was getting farther and farther away from him.

Jason sat up in his bed as his mother knocked on his door, “Time to wake up Honey.”

Jason dropped his head back down to his pillow and grunted.

“Honey, you don’t want to be late for school.” His mom said. Jason hated going to school, it wasn’t so much going as it was how the other kids treated him.

Jason got up and walked to his mirror, he was a bit over weight with short brown hair, blue eyes that were bad so he was forced to rely on glasses. He wished he could be more like he was in his dreams. Tall, muscular, and an object of affection to the ladies, as it was he hadn’t even been on a date let alone had a girlfriend.

Jason shuffled into the bathroom and took a shower; he thought back to the princess that had been in his dream, the thing was she actually was the girl Jason had had a crush on since the seventh grade. She was the head cheerleader, president of the student council, and the class valedictorian. She was also dating the captain of the football team.

He walked into his room and started to get dressed. He wore his usual; jeans, black T-shirt, and sneakers. Grabbing his bag and his hat Jason went downstairs.

“Breakfast is on the table Jason.” His mom said.

“Mom you know I don’t eat breakfast anymore.” Jason said. “Besides I’m gonna be late for school.”

“Jason you come in here and eat this food this minute.” The only response she got was the sound of the door closing.

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Prologue

If this were a movie the camera would be attached to a helicopter. The view would be a quick pan of the carnage below. Nothing would be seen clearly as the camera started from one end of the field till it reached the other side. Once at the other side the camera would make a panning turn and begin to focus in on the ground.

If this were a movie the camera would then be cut to one situated on a crane to allow it to focus in on the bodies that liter the ground. The camera would then focus in on a specific group of bodies until it finally came to rest on the face of a single corpse.

The corpse would be that of a young women no older than 25. Her eyes would be rolled up into her head and there would be no color in her cheeks at all. Her golden hair would be stained red with blood as she lay in a pool of her own blood. At this point the director would yell cut and the ‘corpses’ would all stand up and get ready for the next shot.

However this is not a movie, each and every person lying dead on the ground is really dead. Unlike a movie corpse each and every one of them had a name, and a family waiting for them. And while there are thousands of bodies here now our main focus lies now with the girl, her name was Victoria Sweeney.

She now lies dead beside her friends and enemies alike in what was probably the bloodiest battle in the worst war this planet has ever seen. She was born on October 12, 2075 and she died on December 25, 2100.

Christmas, while kids open presents in their homes feeling safe there are others praying to survive and yet others praying to have their loved ones returned safely. Death has no prejudices or concerns, it merely takes those it chooses and it chooses everyone eventually.

By Vengence is Mine (Knight_hawk) on Unrecorded Date:

Tell me what you think. It's just something I started to work on.

The night was darker than any night Abigale had ever seen. The darkness seemed to wrap itself around every tree making the visibility poor. Abigale was nervous as it was but now her flashlight barely helped her see. The lack of light also seemed to amplify all the sounds around her and Abigale began to tremble more and more with every sound she heard.

As usual Abigale couldn’t sleep and usually a walk in the woods helped her. But tonight she felt as if the night wanted to hurt her. She’d started to feel uneasy shortly after entering the woods but it was so dark she soon got lost. Looking at her watch she saw that she had been lost for the past hour and a half. Taking a deep breath she continued to walk hoping she’d find a path or something.

Each tree she passed seemed the same as the last one so Abigale found it difficult to get her bearings. She wasn’t sure if she was even heading in the same direction she had when she started out. Abigale looked at her watch again and saw that it was about two hours to dawn. She decided to sit and wait for daybreak and see if she could find her way out then.

From behind her she heard a twig snap as it was stepped on. Looking Abigale saw the figure of a man walking towards her. Her breath was caught in her throat as she turned to run. Abigale heard the mans steps as he ran after her, his foot falls were getting closer every second.

Abigale ran blindly trying to get away from the man. She weaved around trees trying to trip him up and gain any advantage she could. Abigale felt the man getting closer and tried to run even faster. Each step got the man closer and Abigale was starting to tire. She forced herself to continue all the while the man got closer. Abigale stumbled after glancing off of a tree she tried to get around and dropped her flashlight.

Abigale felt a hand grab her upper arm and pull her backward. She tried to scream but the mans other hand quickly covered her mouth. Abigale struggled to get free from the man’s grip but it only got tighter. She became aware of the man's face next to her ear.

“Shh. They’ll hear you.” The man said. “Now if I take my hand away do you promise not to scream?”
The man let his grip loosen and removed his hand from Abigale’s mouth after she nodded her head.

“Good. Now, what are you doing in these woods this late?”

Abigale turned to face the man and take back her flashlight as he held it out to her. She gasped; he was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. “I’m just out for a walk. You see, I don’t sleep very well and when I can’t sleep I come here to make myself tired and I got lost.”

“So you live near here?” He asked

“Yes. I live on the edge of the woods.” Abigale said. She found herself getting lost in the man’s blue eyes.

“Well it’s dangerous in these woods at night, so why don’t I walk you home.” The man suggested. “Oh by the way my name is Michael.”

“Ok.” Was all that Abigale was able to get out. Abigale began to walk in the direction she believed her house to be in. As she walked she found it easier to talk to Michael and in fact she looked forward to talking to him. “What did you mean by ‘they’ll hear’?”

“The spirits of the forest, their malevolent and dangerous to those who do not belong.” Michael said.

For a while neither spoke and it was some time before Abigale tried to say anything again. It seemed to her as if they were not getting anywhere but she dismissed the thought quickly. Michael’s breathing was becoming heavier and deeper. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. How much farther to your house?” Michael asked.

Abigale looked around and was surprised to find herself in an area she recognized. “Not much farther.” She said. “Michael are the spirits the reason you said that the woods were dangerous?”

“No, I am the danger in these woods.” Michael said. His voice was suddenly deep and guttural causing Abigale to shudder. “If you run now you may make it home before I get you.”

Abigale needed no other prompting as she took off toward the edge of the forest and her home. She heard Michael coming after her and tried to go faster. The trees around her seemed to be grabbing for her trying to stop her. She stumbled on an exposed tree root and dropped her flashlight.

Not wanting to look back or stop Abigale ran blindly through the forest frantic to get away. Her thoughts were going through her mind faster than she could process. Michael had slowed and she could no longer hear his pursuit.