Poetry Collection Fall 2014: IX. Taki Biha

I remember your eyes as a child:
Gray, hazy, a blindness that confused me.
But I knew, even though cloudy,
They saw me, your little baby girl.

I remember your face as a child:
Saggy, lazy, a wrinkly-ness that befuddled me .
But I knew, even though weathered,
There was a youth in your spirit, my biha.

Last year, I remember parts of you:
Insulin shots, soiled diapers, glucose tablets.
It all frustrated me, but I knew that all this
Is what you would do for me, my taki biha.

Last week, I remember all of you:
Your jaundice, empty eyes, breathless body.
I knew it was your time, even though we laughed minutes before,
But I was selfish and breathed life back into you for hours. 

Now, I see all of you, my old baby:
Your clammy skin, your closed eyes, your flat-line.
I sigh with you final exhale, and I am reassured
that you, my beautiful flower, are with Papa and your God again.

Poetry Collection Fall 2014: VIII. Mother's Eggs

She always loved eggs,
Intricate and unique.
Her most prized possessions,
In glass shrines,
Like four fragile pillars in the room.
They are crystal and ceramic;
Paper and plastic;
Wicker and wood.
My childhood favorite plays music,
a pink Edelweiss, an Austrian chime.
Among all the artisan eggs,
Treasures from Brazil to Russia,
Her favorite is a chicken egg,
Hollowed, brittle, and homely,
Scribbled with marker,
Bland beads and glitter glued:
The egg I made her
When I was six.

Poetry Collection Fall 2014: VII. Classy Slam

What is /classy/?
A term, synonymous to beauty,
But distinctly, a beauty defined by
/social location/
By the /money one earns/ and by the current /cultural weather/
One sports sport-jerseys for no other reason than /it symbolizes money/.
You deign to drive the Corvette of your dreams to make a statement,
But what statement are you driving at?
It’s because it makes you feel /upper class/.
So what do mean when you say /classy/?
It’s a cultural complication, one with no cultural homogeneity,
No common identity other than the colors
of the red, the white, and the blue.
We are a country that screams freedom, yet we continually
Find other means of oppression, this cultural oppression,
Which just so happens to be fueled, to be defined by
//Class division//
 Is what you emulate when you judge that car,
 looks /too common/; when you judge that girl
Wearing the tights and the tank top as trashy, trampy: /Lower class/Classless/
Because money defines all that we believe,
At our core, at the most primitive level in our modernized world,
Our /Rich American dream/
“Rich American dream”? 
More like poor American esteem.

Poetry Collection Fall 2014: VI. Old Poetry from a Thirteen-Year-Old

She is dressed in nothing but lace and icy stilettos.
 Aching, she awaits the onslaught of men craving for body. 
Unable to speak, she takes everything in, unwilling yet resigned.
She’ll bend over for a dollar more; she’ll touch him there, but at a cost;
he can pull her hair, call her a whore, abuse her for his pleasure;
All for the right money, dirty and worn, in her lingerie.
And when the sun rises, the light shines on her struggle for all to see, for all to cringe.
Life is a battlefield.  She is losing.

He is covered head to toe in dirt, sweat, and blood.
Helmet tight, gun to chest, he awaits the onslaught of men craving for bodies.
In a hail of gunfire, he must take life to preserve life.
 And when the sun rises, he presses his boot into the soil of his homeland;
The light shines on his heroism for all to see.
As his country salutes him, he only remembers
the long nights spent worrying his country forgot him;
if he’d make it through ‘til sunrise; or more hauntingly:
Have I widowed that wife?  Have I bastardized that son?
Both the man and woman lie awake that night,
Telling of life’s anomies.
Life is simply a battlefield that neither man nor woman can win.

Poetry Collection Fall 2014: V. Ella

She is my rosy cherub, my bubblegum girl.
I dream of her tiny sprouting wings,
A creamy carnation, delicate and dainty;
I foresee her cherry lips and her flowering dress,
The petit cherry blossom everyone desires:
A cover girl, my little blushing doll.

She is my orchid bud, my little lavender lady.
I adorn her in my favorite pale amethyst dress,
A blushing lilac tea frock, embellished for princesses;
But she is resigned, forlorn with her beauty,
Flustered by the freedom  flowing near her fanny:
My bubblegum girl, why aren’t you happy?

She is my bluing iris, a phlox in an ocean of hydrangeas.
My heart twinges as she fusses in her own cool-hued skin,
A color struggle between pink and sky blue;
But she is a thistle at heart, resilient and sharp,
Strongly braced by the garden dowel that is me:
 The security that will never let my little periwinkle droop.

Poetry Collection Fall 2014: IV. Rhythm

Bump-bump.  Bump bump.
This is our first sound in the morning.
Mother’s rhythm, the rumbling lava flow through her veins;
the pulse of our own little hearts before we rise;
The pace of all that exists, the cadence of life.

We forget that some forget to breathe;
Shelved away behind the daily minutia of mortality.
Yet it taps away, indefinitely:
Unto our skin, among our ears, before our eyes,
Making sense of the day.

For it is the wind through our hair,
Gusting and dying, gusting and dying;
In the subtle hushhh! of the brook that rumbles;
It is our feet on the long roads we traverse,
sauntering, shuffling, and scuttling in time.

It is the cool patter of droplets upon our faces,
even in the simmer of the summer;
Our rhythm remains resolute.
Even when our daytime falls to eve,
It is the quick flicker of our dying candle wick.

Poetry Collection Fall 2014: III. The Chocolatier

I dream of your syrupy lips, locking with mine,
As I struggle to taste every inch of you; 
I could smother myself with your essence.

I pine for your decadent body, a russet cream like nothing else,
An almondy joy under my callous hands,
I would gladly die in you.

I thirst for your sweet juices, like hot caramel from your opening,
Between your beautifully delicate crevices;
A feast fit only for me.

I lust for your smooth and luscious mounds,
They call forth desires from the recesses of my heart;
Oh, how I need you now.

I want your being, in all your forms and moods,
like hot ganache over my soul;
My own little praline.

And the way you tease, with your still resilience,

And the cacao of your skin, winking at me;

What confectionary perfection!

Poetry Collection Fall 2014: II. Anufat

The night is quiet, the air warm from noonday.
It smells of sea and jungle, a hot salty musk;
It burns my nose, prickles my throat, and calms my nerves
as I lay in the banyan vines, my brazen act of defiance.
 I challenge you, ancient ones, for I am not scared.
The earth and sea play my lullaby, waves upon the rocks
Churning and crashing and rumbling, the same foamy refrain.
It is an eerie night, the air cooling as the witching hour approaches
The land crabs hiss and scuttle across the damp jungle floor
The snakes whisper and slither through the trees
“He is here, he is here”
Finally, he is here.  I challenge you, ancient one, for I am not scared.
He fills the sky, blotting the stars, muting the sea.
His face is many faces – decayed, muscles contorted in bloody, pulsating death,
A festering hole straight through the skull with muck, moss, and maggots
His body – a tangle of tissues and tendons, like bloody banyan vines…
I wake from the lucid terror of hot air, ocean, and damp earth;
Of land crabs, snakes, and the mighty taotaomo’na Anufat,
The icy sweat on my neck brings me back home, grounds me,
And trickles upon a purple mark, a new contusion
 Stretching across my chest – a long, smudged handprint:
An eerie reminder of my reverence, and why we do not challenge the ancient ones.

Poetry Collection Fall 2014: I. Alone

The umber lights, strung upon poles,
Once gleaming with lust,
Now singular and dull, are apathetic eyes;
O, such indifference.

A sepia village, shingles shoulder to shoulder,
Once boisterous with warmth,
Now blanketed with plethoric icy powder;
A coat of ash on me.

The rusting conifers, balding and shedding its needles,
Once olive and  emerald with life,
Now ochre and copper in death;
Acknowledge my insignificance.

Even in an ocean of faces, so clamorous and festive,
Once thrilling and vibrant,
Now alien – a desolate sea of bronze;
I am no one now.

And all those emotions, once blossoming and sweet,
 Now withered, leave the burnt taste of disdain;
Now, forever warning me:
All things beautiful can fade to dust. 

Sunsets

The library is a white mansion, filled with the sounds of keyboard clicking, singular coughs, and stratified conversation.  The largest walls are made of glass feigning freedom to the outside world, constrained by the cross-hatching grids in the hollow construction, like one giant cage.  Massive pillars, worn with student’s pencil abuse embroidering its lower corners, stand diligent like Atlas under the earth.  In this white mansion, I sit with a colleague, books in tow, minds at work.  We were studying for a sociology final scheduled a ways out from now, but as most study socials roll along, they become less about the study and more about the social.  We went from Durkheim, to interactionist theories, to interaction.  Gren was his name.  He wanted to be an electrical engineer and was taking Sociological Theory with me to fulfill a general education requirement. 
            “What about you, ah?”  The point in the conversation that I dislike the most. 
            “Oh, me?  Eh,” I shrug.  “Geriatric social work or human resources, I hope.”
            “Wow,” he blurts.  “So noble yet so resigned about it.”
            “Heh,” I give him a nod and half a smile.  “It’s what I do.”
            “Haw,” he trails off.  What to say next, he ponders.  “How come geriatrics?”
            “Long story, breh.”  I think of grandma and grandpa, and the football game, and mom.  My smile expands to my eyes.  “A long story indeed.”

 ~~~~

The word “no” was quite possibly the very first word I was taught growing up in a world of wants.  No, you cannot have that piece of candy; no, you cannot touch that toy in the store; and my favorite line of all, “No, you cannot always have what you want because life will not always say yes to you.”  To summarize the family religion into two words, “Just no.” 

My mother was a woman of No.  Growing up, half of all her responses to my sibling’s and my requests were faced with rejection before we could finish filing the request.  The other half was filled with ambiguous responses and rhetorical questions that ultimately led to a solid “no”.  She had been devout through the years, her faith strong in her iron will and leather belt.  Her strong Catholic practice has kept her a vigilant and unmovable rock when it came to denying the fun in life.  I had decided young that if my family practices the religion of No, I wanted to be the family atheist. 

Things started to change as soon as my grandparents arrived for at-home care.  They first came to live with us from Guam when I was eleven.  Grandma was blind, bedridden, and had Alzheimer’s; papa was just a frail old man.  They both had diabetes and high blood pressure.  What they needed was a gentle touch and a soft word; they needed patience when getting their Depends changed; above all, they needed someone to say yes to them.  This Yes person was to be my mom.

I was a beacon of excitement.  I could not wait to meet my grandma and papa who had adored me when I was much younger.  My papa was the more able-bodied of the two, so I was most excited to see him again.  Very unlike his daughter, my papa was without a doubt a man of Yes.  Every morning in Guam, I used to run to their house to see him and would always yell “Papa, hello!” like a song (and for him, it was a song).  He always gave me special candy whenever he came back from Japan even though mom doesn’t like me eating junk; he always let me go out and play when I felt like it, even if I had chores; he even used to make his family specialty, coconut bunelos, just for me.  This was my memory of him in his early seventies, my image of how he should have been.  I was sorely disappointed.~~~~ 

My papa was the biggest nuisance in my life in middle and high school.  He was the epitome of a dirty, rude, old geezer.  He was a human slug: moved, talked, and looked around slow (or perhaps that was how he justified his dirty side looks).  He also had this notion that everyone he talked to was a five-year-old.  I was only twelve and I thought his humor was completely immature.  He greeted everyone with “You wanna fight?”and “huu huu, ah-heeee!”, which was only funny the first twenty times.  Above all, though, he was a rude and obnoxious mock.  Oh, he was the Champ of Mockery.  For every time we told him not to do something, he would respond with “Ohhhhh,” quite woefully, “is that right?  Okay behbee, you’re RIGHT!  You win, I always loss.  You de boss.  I always loss.  Hu huuu, hu huuuu…”

            Mama made me her nurse aid without really asking me.  She used to say that this wasn’t just her responsibility, it was mine.  For a while, I thought I understood what that meant and why it was thrust upon me.  I quickly grew to loathe it.  All of the frustration that used to be from my mama was not only combined with the frustration from being an eleven-year-old caregiver, but the line distinguishing the two was blurred almost completely.  To me, it was all their  fault.  These goddamn old people have ruined my life.
            What was heard as “Papa, hello” has now become “Papa, fuck off.”
~~~~

            The last several years have been disgruntling.  Nothing had changed except for the old people’s level of decrepit-ness: I was still a slave.  Really, why couldn’t a fifteen-year-old Advanced Placement student do basic teenager things like have friends?  Sure, there were people I considered friends in classrooms and in the court yard during lunch period, but once people start planning beyond the school fences I was no longer a thought, probably because the answer is so often “no” anyway.

All the AP English kids who despise Chemistry as much as I do have a free period now, a class designed to be a study period for the studious children.  Of course, it’s never used this way – this is social time: Time to chat about pop culture and television and the latest internet trends and music.  This is one of my free times to just be a teen, away from the pressure of home, away from mama and those old people.

The air smelled faintly of old paper and cat litter.  The walls lazily held a dusty chalkboard, stained with years of ghostly residue, and boxes on every counter, waterlogged at the edge, sagging with old age.  Here, in this dank chemistry lab (built during the plantation era of the 50’s, still in its original glory), is where we few students sit around cracking tables to talk about everything and nothing.  There are only six of us who enjoy this free period: Vinny, the Asian fashionista; Ashlyn, the typical emo child who thought she had serious mental issues; Deanne, the girl that uses her petite size and adorable Japanese features get whatever she wanted; Destiny, the mother figure of the group; and lastly, Patty, the clueless Filipino boy who goes along with what any of us says or does; and me, the anti-socialite, only cool in school.  There, in that dank chemistry lab, we discussed homecoming of our sophomore year.

“Robotics will be at homecoming as a group,” Ashlyn muses.  “I’ma go with them.”
            “Thought you hated them this week,” Destiny says blankly. 
            “I do, but no one else is going tonight.”
            “So you’d rather go to a game you don’t watch with people you don’t like this week?”
            The conversation continues along this path for twenty minutes or so; I wasn’t exactly counting or paying attention.  I had already texted my mom to ask her if I could, for just one night in the entirety of the school year, go out with friends to this homecoming game.  She responded with her monosyllabic religion.  No.

At this point I have no words, only a tense jaw, an enflamed face, and eyes that felt they wanted liberty from their sockets.  I faintly heard a small voice calling my name before I regained composure.  It was Deanne’s small voice.
            “We’re all going tonight,” she said excitedly.
            “Even Patty is tagging along,” Vinny says silkily.  “You should too.”

Before another word was said, I hear them in my head: Why did we ask her in the first place; she is just going to say no; she’s probably boring anyway; So sad how she lets her mom control her.  So often is the answer “no” in my life, so often I am denied what it means to be a teen.  Today, I exercise a different religion. 
            “Totally,” I gloss over the words for the first time ever.   “Let’s go.”~~~~ 

            The atmosphere was stoic.  The clouds were silver and amber with rosy cheeks of the sunset; the colors of symbolic pride through the crowds are mesmerizing.  The air is filled with a confusing assault of dirt, sweat, and pepperoni.  The air is hot with excitement and remnants of the day’s sun, a temperate reminder that, even though all of Kailua High’s fan club is here, we are in Ewa.  I see my friends, but they are a blur – I am drowning in a sea of heightened senses, overwhelmed by the culture of Homecoming.  I love it.

            “Hoy!”  Destiny grabs me by the wrist.  “Don’t get lost, lady.”
            “Oh, keh,” I stammer.  In this moment, I have no words.  This is all too much, I thought: all too exciting, all too soon.  The football game had already begun before I realized that I somehow navigated my way to the top of one of the dirt-stained bleachers, already loaded with fans.  Worry washed over me as I began to think about the consequences my disobedience would warrant.  For once, I dreaded the thought of the leather belt more than I did the thought of absolutely no connection to the outside world.  I have gotten lickings pretty harsh before, but never have I done something as outwardly defiant as this.  I felt my left eye involuntarily twitch. 

            Then, my ears were enveloped by the unanimous cheering that screaming from my side of the bleachers that told me our team was doing something good.  I looked up: A football player, sporting black and orange, running.  He had made it from one end of the field to the other, untouched, a stallion unrestrained.  A sense of pride I had never felt before was swelling inside of me.  My team point seven, everyone else’s team zero.  I found myself on my feet with my classmates, hooting along with the crowd; screaming with the crowd; singing with the crowd.  This is a social life, I thought.  The lights were blinding against the night sky as I let all negative thoughts fade into the recesses of my mind and lived in my dream world for the night.   

~~~~ 

It was midnight when I walked home from my dream land.  I was buzzing with energy, a product of pure adrenaline and too many Red Bulls in one night.   I was a different girl, one who had finally made the decision to no longer give in to the unreasonable whims of her overly-religious family.  As I was mentally preparing for a fight, the sight of red flashing lights at my doorstep caught my eye.  An ambulance was already departing, sirens at full alert: “Attention”, I heard it wailing, “Dying human coming through.”

I held my breath.  In the moments from the doorstep into the house, time did not exist.  My dad was home from work early, his midshift cut off because of all that was going on.  He ordered me to stay home with grandma.  Papa was gone.  I asked what had happened, but he wouldn’t respond, perhaps because he felt that I didn’t deserve to know yet.  Find out the hard way.  He said nothing to me as he left the house other than  “Sa ingratu hagat’mu.”  You ungrateful daughter of mine.

I got the call that papa’s sun had set at about 2:26am from my mom, only she wasn’t my mom on the phone.  She was this quiet, resigned woman with a small voice and a broken heart.  I hung up the phone and decided that the best place to be was lying in the middle of the road on my street.  Despite the years of hating the word, I found myself, accompanied only by the brisk air, trees and moonlight, uttering that one word over and over again to a God I do not believe in: No, Jesus.  No, God, please no.  I have not made my peace, I am not ready.    I am not ready.

I quickly became appalled with myself.  Who was I to deserve peace?  I had, for so long, blamed this man who gave me the chance to exist in the world and I showed it to him – through my insensitivity, through my harsh words, through my lack of affection.  How could I possibly deserve any inner peace?  I deserved to die, I thought to myself.  I should have died.

I went inside the empty house to check on grandma after what felt like half an hour.  She was laying in her bed, talking to someone.  I asked, “Hafa, grandma?”  What’s wrong?
            “Hayi?  Matai lu hayi?”  Who?  Who died?  “Hafa nai, just tell me?” What, just tell me.
            I hesitate.  “Grandma, hayi un quentotusi?”Who are you talking to?
            “Ha’a nai.” Yeah, she says, waiting for an answer.  She cannot hear me.  She begins listing people who have long been dead: her mom, her dad, her siblings, her aunts and uncles.  I grow scared.  Who is she talking to?  For ten minutes, she talked to someone playing “Guess who died” with her before her tone changed.  Her blind face became very forlorn, almost as if she were about to cry.  Then she finally spoke.
            “Go ahead,” she said in clear English.  “Move on, neni, it’s your time.  I’ll be okay.”

 ~~~~

            “That was perhaps the most profound thing I ever heard her say.”  My voice was low.  “I had spent so much of my youth being angry at what I thought I should’ve had.  And I couldn’t move past it.”  I choked back a break in my voice.  Be strong, I thought, be like mama.  “It only took one hour to learn that living like that wasn’t worth it anymore.”

The library transformed into a sunkissed mansion, echoing the dwindled clicks of a few students’ keyboards and footsteps exiting the building.  The glass walls allow the orange sun to spill through as Gren stares blankly at his bag.  He is deep in thought, as if in a trance.  As the orange slowly fades to periwinkle to dark, we slowly gather our studies to pack up for the night.  We are the last students in the dark mansion.  We juggle some sociologist names and terms back and forth for a short period of time before we fell silent once more. 

            “Do you ever find yourself regretting?” Gren asks suddenly.  I looked at him, perplexed.
            “Any bit of it.  The game, y’know, anything?”
            I paused.  I let my mind wander off to my mother, whose face is now a mirror of the old woman who taught me one of life’s most powerful lessons. “Remorseful, yes.  Regretful, no.”
Gren gave a final nod, one pondering humph, and we departed to our cars.

Welcome to ENG 313: Introduction to Creative Writing

Hello small audience of mine, I have returned.  Much has changed since the last post on this particular blog, and soon the function of it shall change as well.

Since my last post, I have gone on to university and have taken up a Narrative Creative Writing course, and one of the things the professor would like us to do is journal and document our thoughts detailing assignments.  As I do not have MS Word quite yet on my new laptop, this will be used as my temporary journaling.  I intend to post my final product on this blog promptly after the due date for public documentation purposes.

The world I would like to create....
~Emphasizes silence - the eerie absence of meaningful sound

~The world from the eyes of a child thrown into adult responsibility; "a child, taking care of this massive child"

~frustration with life situation; a loss of "friends" (POSITIVE OUTLOOK: the weeding out of "friends of convenience" and the reveal of genuine friends)

I would like to carry this theme onto the final assignment, LONG STORY #2.

The Majique Ball, Pt. II

Kinrea nearly fell down the stairs rushing out of the ball room like that. Maybe she deserved to, she thought, running out simply because a man asked if she was alright. Her face was hot with embarrassment, but was soothed by the cool air outside.

The lawn of the Majique Palace was just as enticing as the architecture itself. The grass was flawlessly green patterned with perfectly tall and well-trimmed trees, the lawn bordered, to its left, with a satisfyingly large and cliché pond that shimmered and danced with the moon.

Kinrea stopped at a nearby tree to collect herself when she caught sight of a white figure floating on the lake. She paced over to the pond to find a large swan dancing and swaying so peacefully, almost in sync with the concerto playing inside the ball room.

She sat at the edge of the lake for a long while. The sky had darkened and the moon had risen, high and bright. The whole romance of the scene would have typically been cheesy and displeasing to her at first, but it didn't seem to bother her tonight. She took off her heels and placed them beside her as she lifted her dress and slipped her pale feet into the water. It was night and no one was with her, so she untied her hair, which fell delicately beside and in front of a portion of her face. After moments of running her legs through the water, she began humming one of her favorite ballads. The swan had stopped it's dancing abruptly, and turned its head to Kinrea. She stopped her humming, and stared back at the swan. Its eyes looked at her, without threat - curiously, beckoning, pleading. "Sing for me."

Kinrea did so.

"Agony melts away," she sang softly, "With the sound of the rain. Silence scatters numerously..." And the swan began dancing again.

"In between the trembling worlds... it's so painful.

I'm outside the cage with my broken wings, looking up at the pale sky.

In the overflowing guilt;
Hope, drowning in the lies pours down,
The thorny rain."

"That's a beautiful song," a man's voice said behind Kinrea. She turned and gasped, startled out of her trance. It was the same man inside the ball room. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright," she said quietly. She turned back to the swan, whom ceased her dancing with the interruption.

"Hm," he said thoughtfully, "Your swan doesn't look so happy." Kinrea thought he was making fun of her, and when she was going to argue back to him, he spoke:

"It sinks into the night;
Becoming aware that I'm all alone;
Just being scared, sad, and lonely...

The feeling of sadness rises..."

The swan continued her dancing, and Kinrea joined him in his singing.

"...And it feels more than yesterday.
Deep inside, it burdens me still.

Now, the crushed philosophy;
Blood and rain merge, gets twisted;
We now knot the truth, along with the fiction."

"You know the song," Kinrea says happily. "No one else I've met has heard of it."

He smiled. "That's because you didn't know me." He sat by her and looked right into her face. "I'm Ryuuko, but for a lovely lady such as yourself... you can simply call me Ryu."

She returned his smile with her own. "And I am Kinrea."

"Well, Miss Kinrea," Ri said sweetly, "It's my pleasure to have met you on such a lovely night."

She gazed at his beautiful face, illuminated by the moon, and smiled gently at him. "Mine as well."

They both turned to the swan, still dancing despite the halting of the chorus, and they sang.

"It pours down, the thorny rain."

Girl Honey

A girl is murdered,
and thrown into the woods.
Her body rots,
and flowers grow from her body.
Bees come,
and suck the nectar from the flowers.
The bees make it into honey,
and the honey is collected.
The honey is bottled and put in a store,
and the family of the missing girl buys the honey.
The family eats the honey;
The family eats the girl.

The Majique Ball, Part I

Kinrea tapped her lap nervously when she sat in a chair towards the back corner of the room. She'd never done this kind of thing before, let alone wear such frilly clothing. This was the first time she had worn a dress in a very long while.

Kinrea was indeed in a large room, much larger than her own home. Her home was petite, made to suit one or two inhabitants. This grand room seemed fit to hold well over hundreds of people, making Kinrea feel much, much smaller. The floor was made of a creme-colored marble, matching the creme-colored walls and golden-splashed curtains and trimming. The two enormous crystal and glass chandeliers above her seemed both delicate and threatening, dangling high with no more than a mere cable and metal supporting it. Looking up at it made Kinrea dizzy and even more nervous.

She looked around the room skeptically, quickly realizing that no one she knew was currently present on the dance floor nor in the dining area. The whole reason she came eluded her still. What in God's name would posess her to suddenly, after so long of being solitary in her own little world, break out in this manner? Perhaps it was the boring daily routine that was her life, or Jinjin's mannerisms. Jinjin loved parties, but had a particular fondness for the Annual Majique Ball. She had always made it sound so profound, so unique! - well, Jinjin had a talent to make anything sound grand.

Kinrea sighed softly and walked impatiently to the ladies' restroom. The restroom itself was the size of two living rooms, just as brilliant as the main ball room itself. She turned to face a large mirror on the wall and found a stunningly beautiful young woman wearing a glistening and glittering creme-dress gazing right back at her. Her face seemed almost painted with a slight glow, her almost-black brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail with her curls falling behind her head. At first Kinrea was baffled at the sight, then grew disturbed that she was looking into her own face and had not realized it for several minutes. After playing with her hair for a while, a woman who looked no older than twenty-four walked in and smiled at her.

"There you are," the woman said with relief in her voice. "I've been looking for you!" She grabbed Kinrea's arm and tugged her through the door and back into the ball room.

"Jinjin, I-I don't know, " Kinrea stammered nervously. Jinjin was headed for the dance floor, and she didn't like that idea much at all. "I-I'm not up for this quite yet."

"Oh come on, Kin," Jinjin pleaded, "You haven't been out like this in forever!"

"And that's precisely why I DON'T want to dance yet!" Kinrea halted and tugged herself in the direction away from the dance floor. Jinjin let go of her arm and twirled singing, "Fine, suit yourself!" She vanished into the army of dancers.

Kinrea stood looking into the sea of people, wondering if Jinjin could dance just as gracefully as everyone else. She had never really seen Jinjin dance before. She only heard stories that her sister would bring home from long days of dancing and partying. She could play any party role: beautiful and elegant, premiscuous and wild... she could do it. Nothing like Kinrea. She couldn't even believe that her reflection was her own. That's what she gets for letting her sister play dress up with her.

"Excuse me miss," a man's voice said respectfully. "You look lost. Are you alright?"

Kinrea's eyes averted from the dancing sea to a young Asian man's face looking right at hers. "Um," Kinrea fumbled, "Y-Yeah. Quite alright. Thanks," she trailed off looking away as quickly as possible. She looked down at her dress for a second and spoke softly, "Excuse me..." The man only looked at her as she raced out the ball room's main entrance.

Ice Cream Parlor

A continuation of the previous entry. :3



At the ice cream parlor
Shoku: *googley-eyes Philzor*
Philzor: .... <<; ....so about that ice cream...
Dai: ...Cookie dough.... *thinks*
Tauto: Bianca wants strawberryyyyyyyyyyyyyyzzzz~ *twirls*
Dark: I want emo cream-
Letho: Ew, Dark! Eww! Just... ew! You sick person.
Dark: What the hell?
Letho: That's just nasty, man.
Dark: I was talking about Rocky Road. o_o;
Letho: ....Oh.... I knew that.
Swift: Gimme THAT thrice cream. *points at chocolate mint*
Ice cream guy moves to chocolate mint
Try: Ohh, me too! I want that one.
Swift: ...Nevermind, give me peppermint.
Ice cream guy: :| *moves to peppermint*
Try: OH ME TOO! I changed my mind. Peppermint for me.
Swift: ........
Try: :)
Swift: ....Can I get double fudge?
Ice cream guy: o_o... *moves to chocolate*
Try: OH OH ME-
Swift: STOP THAT! D:
Try: What? o_o
Shoku: I dunno what I want! Daigoro, should I get cotton candy or mint chocolate chip?
Dai: Umm... get-
Tauto: GET BOTH! :D
Shoku and Dai: Ewwwww.
Tauto: What?
Shoku: That's... a gross combo!
Tauto: Not even! I mixed mine, and it's DELICIOUS!
Dai: ...Shoku, what flavor is the vomit-colored one?
Shoku: Eegh, I don't know. ):
Tauto: D: It's not vomit! It's cookie dough with orange sherbet!
All of Hitsuzen BUT Tauto: Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
Ice cream guy: *Giggles*
Really long silence
Shoku: ....Can I get cotton candy? Please?
Ice cream guy: Sure. *moves slowly*
Shoku: HURRY UP, before I lose my appetite! Tauto is right next to me. T_T

[Outside.]
Dai: *sips melted cookie dough ice cream out of cup* :3
Tauto: *stares at ice cream* Its not... vomit... D:
Dark: Keep telling yourself that, Bianca... *licks vanilla from a cone*
Try: Hahaaaa, I got double scoop! :D
Shoku: Pshh, pansy. I gots FOUR.
Dai: *mumbles* Fatty...
Shoku: *smacks Dai's arm really hard*
Dai: D:
Kaori: *tosses empty ice cream cup away* Nummy-nummy.
Letho: He put bananas in mine! WTF! I DIDNT ASK FOR THIS!
Dark: Dude, you ordered a banana split.
Letho: ...Oh. ARE YOU SERIOUS?
Shoku: *laughs hysterically* Ohhh my god, so retarded.
Philzor: *emerges from parlor* GAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!
Swift: Oh my-
Philzor has ice cream with ten scoops high on a cone
Shoku: *stares at Dai* And you call ME fatty? -____-

Guild Outing :D

Hitsuzen home. Humongous. Has eight rooms, three bathrooms, a big kitchen, a family room, a living room, and a dining room. Seven rooms belong to the members, two people per room paired by class. The biggest bedroom, triple the size of one normal room, belongs to the founders of Hitsuzen. The house is lush, and the walls are painted a very fair, light green.

Our story starts in the family room. The family room is four times the size as a bedroom. Has three long couches along a wall. On the adjacent wall is a 70-inch plasma screen TV. TV sits on a mahogany and glass entertainment center. Electronics include a sound system, a DVD player, a Wii, a PS2 and PS3.

Dai, Swift, Shoku, and Trystrem stand around the couch closest to the door.

Shoku: *Tugging on Dai's shirt* Come on, dammit! D:
Dai: *holding onto family room couch for dear life* Nuuuuu! TT_TT
Swift: Oh come on, Dai it's just-
Dai: NUUUU! TT__TT
Shoku: LET'S GO DAMMIT! D:<
Try: Gahahaha, Dai.
Tauto walks into family room from bedroom hallway with Kaori.
Kaori: Hey guys, whats-
Tauto: *Bursts out laughing* Gahahaha, what the hell man?! *Points at Dai*
Dai: Tauto, help meeee! TT_TT
Swift: Nooo, stay there. This is funny.
Shoku: WE GOOOO! D:<
Dai: NOOOOO!
BakChee, Daraku, Letho, Erricson, and Dark hear the commotion and come into the room.
Dark: The hell? What's going on?
Swift: We're trying to convince Dai to go for a walk in the sunlight.
Dai: IT'LL BUUUURN! WAAA!
BakChee: Yayyyyy~! Let's all go!
Tauto: Guild outing! :D
Kaori: ...o_o
Letho: *Leans towards Dai* How ya doin'? :D
Dai: SH-SHADDAP! TT_TT
Shoku: Swift, lift Dai's fingers from the couch! We're going. DX
Swift: Okay. >:D
Dai: NUUUU! TT__TT

~

[Outside at Mushroom Park]
Dai: ._. ...
Shoku: ^___^ That wasn't so bad, now was it?
Dai: Shaddap... *Huff* Anyways. What're we doing out here?
Tauto: Enjoying suunnnn- lalalalalalaaaaa~
BakChee: *Climbs a tree*
Letho: *hangs upside down from tree branch*
Swift: Oh my god, dude. Look, it's Philzor!
Shoku: Phi-Philzor?! AHH! *Runs for Philzor*
Dai: What the fu-
Shoku: Eeeyaaaa!
Philzor: *whistles*
Shoku: *stands behind Philzor*
Philzor: *whistles and turns around* AHH! O_O
Shoku: AHH! >___O
Philzor: O_O... Can I help you?
Shoku: *salivates* Hiiii-I love yoo-
Dai: *Covers Shoku's mouth and drags her backwards* Okay, let's go.
Philzor: o_O
Shoku: *muffled arguing* DX
Dai: Sorry for the trouble.
Philzor: It's fine.... <<;
FangBlade walks up to Philzor
FangBlade: Hey homie.
Philzor: O_O???
Shoku and Dai stop and stare
Shoku: Wtf? o_o
Dai: The hell? FangBlade, what are you doing in Broa?!
FangBlade: I... I don't know. D: I'm the awesome number one, I can do anything! :D
The rest of Hitsuzen walks to FangBlade
Try: o_o... *takes pictures*
FangBlade: WTF. D:
BakChee and Daraku: *jump beside FangBlade, squishing him*
BakChee: Piiiictures! :D
FangBlade: D: THE HELL?!!?!
Try: *camera clicker goes off* [click] [click] Anyone else?
Tauto: *runs into picture*
Dai: o_o
Shoku: o_o
Swift: o_o...
Try: [click] [click] [click]
FangBlade: NUUUU! AHHH! *Melts*
BakChee, Daraku, and Tauto: o_o...
Swift: ....ANYWAYS. Let's get some ice cream or something.
Everyone else: Okay. :D
Philzor: Can I come too?! :D
Shoku: HELL YES!
Dai: *at the same time as Shoku* HELL NO! *stares at Shoku*
Shoku: *stares at Dai*
Philzor: o_o... Okay. :D

The Tale Of A Greedy Bastard

Written By: Jordan Conti
Mad props, Swift. ♥

Mysterious Voice: Wanna play a game?
Aneisa: *Wakes up* OH MY GOD, WHERE AM I?
Mysterious Voice: Anna, Can I can I call you Anna?
Aneisa: It's An-
Mysterious Voice: Who gives a shit.
Mysterious Voice: Anyways, you have been-
Aneisa: WHERE AM-
Mysterious Voice: FUCK.. SHUT UP!
Aneisa: o_o...... eep.
Mysterious Voice: >_> ... You have been brought here because of your greedyness towards money.
Mysterious Voice: My sources have told me that you put money infront of your OWN flesh and blood.. This is Un-Acceptable, and until you learn, you will suffer your own punishment.
Mysterious Voice: My name is Jordan, And I will be planning your Oh so Tedious day today.
Jordan: You will find That you are caged above a pit of acid, your goal is to-
Aneisa: OMG MONEY! =D *Grabs money*
Jordan: ... -_-
Aneisa: ... D:
*Hand get's blown off*
Jordan: Oh.... My god -_-
Aneisa: *Drops into pit of acid*
Jordan: You will find that you have 30 seconds to get out of this pool. Or you will deteriorate.
Jordan: You can offer your leg to the machine in return for something golden.
Aneisa: *Rams leg into machine*
Machine: *Pop's out key*
Aneisa: *Unlock's door to get out of pool*
Jordan: .. *Clap*... *Clap*... *Clap*... Well done... Now you can-
Aneisa: OMG 20 BUCKS! *Dives for it*
Jordan: Oh my fucking-
Aneisa: *Falls into pit of snakes*
Jordan: Well that was just AMAZING.

The Dance With Death

Ruby pools and diamond droplets
Rusty blades and speckled tissue
Not the end, no no...
Only the beginning.

It is a dance with death,
A waltzing enemy.
Counting one, two, three,
One, two, three
You're almost dead now,
Come follow me.

Dark little corner, crimson and raven
Dark little corner, solitary haven
It whispers
Dark little person in the dark little corner
Come out, we won't hurt you.

It lies.

Hitsuzen, Part V

Ellinia forests were quiet. Canopies of trees huddle closely overhead, letting only a few rays of sunlight drip through. The looming trees are old, but not as old as the forest itself. The air smelled of rotting leaves and morning dew. Slimes and green mushrooms hid playfully while Hitsuzen made their way through.
Liutenant Dai walked along side his horse with the Four Captains. Bowmen slung their bows around them and walked with the assassins, while the bandits talked quietly with the warriors of tactics and skills. The mages walked silently, admiring the forests of their origin.
Tadeyo found his way to Dai's side, and Dai began to speak of his youth in Ellinia.
"It was awkward for a while growing up here," he began. "My father was a mage, but my mother was a bowman. So I grew up learning to be both. When I was educated to be a wizard here, the bowman blood in me slipped away, and now I barely remember how to aim. Sad, huh?
"Yon and I used to play in these trees as children, and she'd always lose," he said laughing. "We would practice hopping from branch to branch, and she'd hate me because I would just teleport when she was winning. Once, she got so angry she stomped on a branch without thinking, and it broke right under her feet." Tadeyo and Dai laughed at the image of Yon's girlish screaming as she fell until Yon came up behind them and grabbed their shoulders.
"Laugh all you want, Dai," she said vengefully, "If I recall correctly, you cried like a baby when a stump snuck up on you when we were playing in the Growing Tree's top branches when we were fourteen."
Tadeyo burst into laughter when Dai's face flushed of color. He punched Dai playfully on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Liutenant," he said. "I fell out of the Border Tree back in the village trying to impress a girl."
"I wonder which girl," Yon says, winking at him. Tadeyo smiled at her mockingly, as if telling her to shut up rather than agreeing.
The leaves and branches that towered over them began to rustle, and a loud crack of a branch was heard partnered with a yelp of surprise.
"Oh," Swift says looking into the tree branches rustling above. "Speak of the devil..."
Yurei came falling out of the branches above along with a broken tree branch. Tadeyo ran and caught her before she hit the ground, and stared at her face for a moment. Yurei, panting for air, stared back.
"Hey you," she said casually.
"Hey you," he replied teasingly. He glanced up to the tree. "Falling from the sky, are we?" He put her down and she wobbled off, dusting her clothes of the leaves sticking to her.
"Where were you," Tauto asked. "You've been missing for quite a while."
"Ah," Yurei said. "I was delivering messages, and requesting help." She hugged Dai and Swift at the same time. "Why, were you worried?"
"Slightly," Tauto admit. "You just disappeared."
"Hmm," Yurei said monotone. "I'm sorry. But..." She turned to Tadeyo and looked him in the eye. "I found Chun Ji."
Tadeyo lifted his eyebrows at the name, and said, "How is he doing? What'd he say?"
She reached into a pack tied to Dai's horse and pulled out a water bottle, and uncapped it. "He's living on the street with the poor, I'm assuming to blend in. Most of Alaitoc is that way, right? Well, anyways. He said no."
Tadeyo's eyes fell to the ground. "Hm, I knew he would've said that." He walked towards Yurei and put his arm around her neck. "I'm glad you're back."
Yurei smiled her delicate smile and leaned into him. "Likewise."

Camp was set up right around the entrance to the dungeon, their next challenge. Fireflies floated in the air, heightening the magical feeling of the forest. Glows of lights from inside the tents began to extinguish as members began to fall into sleep.
Tadeyo crawls into the small tent pitched for Yurei and himself. The lamp in the corner of the tent glowed dim orange, warming the tent in the cold forest. He threw his shirt off and plopped on his back on the sheets, and began dozing off. Yurei crawled in the tent a little while after he started hearing voices that signed sleep, and he came to.
"You sleepy," she said taking off her shirt, revealing a sports bra.
"Yeah, kind of," he said softly. He closed his eyes, listening to her voice.
"Aww," she said cutely. "I wanted to do something before we crash out."
"Heh," he mused. "Like what?" He opened his eyes to see her kicking her pants off. She took her hair down and closed the tent closed with the clip from her hair, and crawled passionately on top of him.
"Mmmm," he said smiling at her as her face came closer to his. She smiled as she felt up his chest. She kissed him as soon as her face met his, rubbing her body onto his. He rolled herover on to her back and kissed her neck lightly. "Mmmm, maybe I'm not all that tired," he teased, tracing his tounge to the lobe of her ear. She let out a soft moan, and smiled.
"That's what I thought," she teased.

Hitsuzen, Part IV

"Ahh, an exile," he said. He passed the half-filled water bottle to her, and as she drank deeply, he continued. "So what does Tadeyo need?"
"He wants you," Yurei said wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She passed the bottle back to him, and he began to drink what was left. "To bring Alaitoc members to aid us in this war."
Ji choked on the water, coughing most of it out onto the pavement. "You're kidding," Ji gasped. Yurei stood there staring at him.
"Quite serious," she said.
"Yurei," he started, "Just because I'm leader doesn't mean-"
"Ji, we need this help," Yurei exploded. "The Hunters have already gotten Assassinate on their side. Last I saw, Blood Mafia-"
"There is nothing I can do for you, Yurei," Ji interrupted loudly. He stared at her desperate face, lined with worry.
"You can help us, Chun." She stared into his eyes, hoping to find an answer. But there was none.
"Yurei, I can almost guarantee you that Alaitoc would want nothing to do with outsider's affairs," he reasoned. And she saw the reason in it. "Do you understand what I mean?"
She turned to the road to the Elle Forest and walked slowly from Ji. "Yes, I understand."
She walked until she reached the border where the forest began. She turned her head, and looked Ji in the eyes.
"Without any aid, Chun Ji," she said in low voice. "We will all die."


~


The Hunters army trodded along slowly through the Eastern Rocky Mountains of Perion, exhausted from the excessive heat and lack of rest. Warriors slumped along side their dehydrating horses, who refuse to let anyone ride them until given water. Domeki Rihdan, the guild leader, who was saddled up high on his horse (the only horse that will stand for it), rode along side of his warriors.
"Keep the pace up, men," he shouted. "Perion is only a distance away!"
The men groaned in disbelief, and slugged along. Domeki scouted the area for anything useful that they could use. Fifty miles, The Hunters have been traveling with no rest, and no shade.
All they could do was keep trodding along until their destination is reached.

When nightfall came, the warriors unloaded their packs on the horses and set up a small camp along side of a deep valley. A fire cackled softly underneath the moon. Most of the warriors lay asleep soundly in their tent, while others stood outside chatting lowly. Domeki sat quietly at the campfire and stared into the flames.
"Little sister," he murmured. "What do you think you're doing..." he sighed and propped his head up on his hand and slouched. What an embarrassment, he thought. His own sister, running off with the Thief Captain of Hitsuzen. What would father think of this? He sighed and let out a slight chuckle and a smile.
"We'll find you, little sister."