In Bulgaria on December 5th, 1610, Yllana Truffle bawled. Her newborn child was being ripped from her arms. “No Mama! Mama?! Mama! Help!” Yllana wailed in turn, begging for her mother’s intervention as her father stole the child. Before the screaming life could be taken away, Yllana hopped up and kissed the babe on the forehead. “Good-bye, my child. Mama loves you.”
In North America, Alabama in fact, Tootie Brown cried out to her maker as she was brutally whipped to death on December 10th, 1810. Tootie had been found stealing bread from her master’s table. It was for her child. Her little malnutrition baby was slowly wasting away, and she couldn’t stand back and not do anything. What Tootie could not believe as she stood there writhing in pain, waiting to die, was that her master, her own father, was the one administering the fatal blows. She uttered six last words as her body began to shut down, “Lord take care of my daughter.” And then she blew a kiss to the one she loved the most.
Bella looked at herself in the mirror. Today was her birthday. It was December 15th, 2010 and snow was falling from the sky, landing on the sidewalk like a comforting blanket of white. It was your typical day in White Springs Massachusettes. The town had an altitude so high that on average, it snowed 340 days each year.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Short Story: the One She Loved the Most
Detective Micheals came home from the precinct that evening feeling more tired than he had ever been. There was a case at work that he’d been trying to solve for more than two weeks. He didn’t like to bring work home. It made his wife, Jenny, squeamish. But tonight he couldn’t help it. He needed to unload. He began telling the details of the case to his wife as they ate their dinner.
“This is what we’ve gathered through interviewing each of the teenagers’ parents and friends. Cliff Workshaw and Catherine Lipton drove home from school together on January 29th, 2009. Catherine’s mother overheard their conversation from where she was in the kitchen.
“‘So I’ll see you at eight?’ Cliff asked his girlfriend
“‘I... I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘I don’t think your parents are going to like me.’
“Catherine and Cliff were from vastly different worlds. His was perfect, it’s only trials being what to spend his parents’ money on. Her world was the polar opposite. It was filled with death, sorrow, and poverty. It still had its simple joys, however, such as music and art.
“Catherine just knew that Cliff’s family would not approve of her. She’d seen Cliff’s past girlfriends. They all had perfectly blonde straightened hair, designer purses, gigantic trust funds, country club memberships, and tons of plastic surgery on a certain area of their anatomy--none of which Catherine had. Catherine was pale with numerous orange freckles, unruly black hair, close to no money, and a flat chest. And to top it all off, she was the eccentric daughter of funeral home owners.
“Catherine could tell that Cliff knew exactly what she was thinking as his hazel eyes stared into her chocolate ones. His look made her reproachful. How could she refuse to do something that would make Cliff happy? He was the only person other than her parents that had ever cared about her.
“Cliff kissed her forehead and smiled. ‘So you’re coming, right? Keep in mind that if you say no, I’ll just have to kidnap you all day.’ He wasn’t about to take no for an answer.
“‘I’ll be there,’ Catherine grumbled.
“The two young ones walked to the front door walking hand in hand. After Cliff left, Catherine stood there thinking of how much she loved him.
“Later that evening, Catherine hopped into her car intent on meeting Cliff’s parents, but she never got there. Cliff’s friend Ponelope said that he was so mad, he started crying. She kissed him on the cheek, trying to cheer him up, but then the bullet came through the window and killed the poor youngster.
“It’s a tragedy, really. Nothing like this has ever happened in W. Uthering, sweetheart. I always thought that we’d remain a crime free town. I know I’m a policeman, but all this recent crime is making my job a lot harder.”
The detective’s wife pondered the details while setting a freshly baked apple pie on the table. “Wait a minute, whatever happened to Catherine?” Jenny inquired of her husband.
Detective Micheals sighed. “I guess you could say that it’s a bit of a mystery. Just after Catherine left the house, her parents left on a one week vacation. When they returned, she wasn’t home, but her totaled car sat parked in the driveway. She hasn’t come home yet. No one knows where she is.”
“Darling, you can bet your last penny that if that girl knows her boyfriend is dead, she would’ve gone to see him. And if my suspicion is right, she is the one who killed him.”
“Jenny that is absurd! Everyone I spoke to told me that they were so in love. She couldn’t have done it. She had no motive!”
“Ahhh, but she had opportunity, dear.”
“What opportunity? She never showed up.”
Jenny’s eyes opened wider. “Exactly! But you can’t assume that she went missing before her boyfriend got shot. My guess is that she saw the boyfriend and What’s Her Face kiss. She lost it. She shot at the other girl, but since the two bodies were so close, Catherine shot the boy instead.
“In an attempt to cover it up, she drove her car into a tree, and then ran away.”
Once again the detective exhaled loudly. “She’s a seventeen year old girl. We’ve been asking around and searching the area. Something should have came up.”
“Like I said before, she’ll want to go see her boyfriend.” Jenny said, then left the topic alone so she could finish eating. “This pie is the best I’ve ever made.”
Detective Micheals wasn’t completely convinced, but he put a surveillance team near the graveyard to see if Catherine would show up. She did, just as Jenny had expected. When the detective approached her, she broke down and offered up a confession. Again, Jenny was right. Catherine said she’d seen the other girl kiss Cliff, and in a fit of rage, she’d shot at her. She missed, however, and now the one she loved the most was dead.
“This is what we’ve gathered through interviewing each of the teenagers’ parents and friends. Cliff Workshaw and Catherine Lipton drove home from school together on January 29th, 2009. Catherine’s mother overheard their conversation from where she was in the kitchen.
“‘So I’ll see you at eight?’ Cliff asked his girlfriend
“‘I... I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘I don’t think your parents are going to like me.’
“Catherine and Cliff were from vastly different worlds. His was perfect, it’s only trials being what to spend his parents’ money on. Her world was the polar opposite. It was filled with death, sorrow, and poverty. It still had its simple joys, however, such as music and art.
“Catherine just knew that Cliff’s family would not approve of her. She’d seen Cliff’s past girlfriends. They all had perfectly blonde straightened hair, designer purses, gigantic trust funds, country club memberships, and tons of plastic surgery on a certain area of their anatomy--none of which Catherine had. Catherine was pale with numerous orange freckles, unruly black hair, close to no money, and a flat chest. And to top it all off, she was the eccentric daughter of funeral home owners.
“Catherine could tell that Cliff knew exactly what she was thinking as his hazel eyes stared into her chocolate ones. His look made her reproachful. How could she refuse to do something that would make Cliff happy? He was the only person other than her parents that had ever cared about her.
“Cliff kissed her forehead and smiled. ‘So you’re coming, right? Keep in mind that if you say no, I’ll just have to kidnap you all day.’ He wasn’t about to take no for an answer.
“‘I’ll be there,’ Catherine grumbled.
“The two young ones walked to the front door walking hand in hand. After Cliff left, Catherine stood there thinking of how much she loved him.
“Later that evening, Catherine hopped into her car intent on meeting Cliff’s parents, but she never got there. Cliff’s friend Ponelope said that he was so mad, he started crying. She kissed him on the cheek, trying to cheer him up, but then the bullet came through the window and killed the poor youngster.
“It’s a tragedy, really. Nothing like this has ever happened in W. Uthering, sweetheart. I always thought that we’d remain a crime free town. I know I’m a policeman, but all this recent crime is making my job a lot harder.”
The detective’s wife pondered the details while setting a freshly baked apple pie on the table. “Wait a minute, whatever happened to Catherine?” Jenny inquired of her husband.
Detective Micheals sighed. “I guess you could say that it’s a bit of a mystery. Just after Catherine left the house, her parents left on a one week vacation. When they returned, she wasn’t home, but her totaled car sat parked in the driveway. She hasn’t come home yet. No one knows where she is.”
“Darling, you can bet your last penny that if that girl knows her boyfriend is dead, she would’ve gone to see him. And if my suspicion is right, she is the one who killed him.”
“Jenny that is absurd! Everyone I spoke to told me that they were so in love. She couldn’t have done it. She had no motive!”
“Ahhh, but she had opportunity, dear.”
“What opportunity? She never showed up.”
Jenny’s eyes opened wider. “Exactly! But you can’t assume that she went missing before her boyfriend got shot. My guess is that she saw the boyfriend and What’s Her Face kiss. She lost it. She shot at the other girl, but since the two bodies were so close, Catherine shot the boy instead.
“In an attempt to cover it up, she drove her car into a tree, and then ran away.”
Once again the detective exhaled loudly. “She’s a seventeen year old girl. We’ve been asking around and searching the area. Something should have came up.”
“Like I said before, she’ll want to go see her boyfriend.” Jenny said, then left the topic alone so she could finish eating. “This pie is the best I’ve ever made.”
Detective Micheals wasn’t completely convinced, but he put a surveillance team near the graveyard to see if Catherine would show up. She did, just as Jenny had expected. When the detective approached her, she broke down and offered up a confession. Again, Jenny was right. Catherine said she’d seen the other girl kiss Cliff, and in a fit of rage, she’d shot at her. She missed, however, and now the one she loved the most was dead.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Thirst (Giogianna-1)
He's never spoken to me before. Ever. He was popular. I wasn't. But that didn't mean that I couldn't ogle him from afar.
Eli had moved to Jones Springs last fall, around the time of all those disappearances. He was the most fascinating thing that the town had ever seen. He was gorgeous and talented. You either wanted him or wanted to be him. Of course there was that uber-odd feeling you got when you were close to him, but it was worth it.
He was always cordial to me, but we'd never exchanged more that five words in one sitting so naturally I was surprised when he called me on that steamy July morning. I almost clawed the phone from my mother's hand when she told me that Eli was on the phone. "Wanna go to the beach?" he said. So cool. So nonchalant. Of course I accepted.
Eli wasn't much of a talker. He stared at me sleepily all day as we lay in the sun. Even though he didn't speak, the way he looked at me was so romantic. But the closer it got to noon, the more rough his manner became. For a minute it smelled like his skin was burning but he excused himself and returned at around one o'clock with the same gruff manner, but was physically okay.
As time wore on, his mood continued to change, as if with the change in the sun's location. But i thought nothing of it. Some people are night people, right? Eli began asking me questions like what my favorite movies and books were. When I responded, saying i liked Thirst and The Twilight Saga, he seemed utterly repulsed. "The junk kids read these days," I thought I heard him mumble under his breath. He couldn't have said that, however. He's only like a year older than me.
It was fully dark by then, and every second Eli inched closer to me. He lit a candle. Inhaled. Made a (purring?) noise. It was a bit creepy, actually. I cleared my throat, "So now that you know basically everything about me, tell me about yourself. Who is Eli Vanderbuilt?"
His eyes seemed to mock me for the five long minutes before he answered. "I am your worst nightmare, Giorgianna. Your stupid vampire books should have made you wary of my kind." In a flash, he was over me, pressing my body into the sand with inhumane force.
"Stop playing around, Eli! Take me home! Now!"
"I'm afraid I can't do that. You are splendid to look at. I wonder how you taste!" And with that, he dove into my neck. Essentially sucking the life out of me. It was the most excruciating pain i'd ever known. My body gave way to painful spasms as I faded into blackness and then drifted toward the light. Just before I touched the bright beam, Eli stopped, straightened his clothes, and waltzed away.
I touched my neck. I could feel the wound closing, the blood drying. The pain stopped. In its place was a new feeling. Much like thirst. But I'll call it thirst multiplied
Monday, May 17, 2010
HARANZA In the Forest--NUMBER ONE
I tripped on a twig. I, Haranza Vigil, tripped on a twig in the middle of a forest that doubles as my backyard. This was the place I'd spent my whole childhood. I knew where every tree was, where every crack in the earth's surface was located. I knew every bird that sang in my forest, and every Judai that purred. The forest was mine. My name, Haranza, means she who rules the forest. But that day, my forest betrayed me. And as my face hit the dirt, I knew it was all over. I had no idea what would happen next. I just knew that life as I knew it had suddenly ceased to exist. When I fell I lost something. I lost the will, the killer instinct, to stay alive just for a moment. That moment has cost me the past three years of my life.
Let me reverse a little bit to the time before I tripped. Everything in Ragain, my village, haad changed. We had a new leader. All of the Ragaini people were in the streets rejoicing and falling at the feet of Ormiou. He was the man that was to bring us freedom from the Foosas, the neighboring village-people.
The Foosas are quite a barbairic bunch.
Let me reverse a little bit to the time before I tripped. Everything in Ragain, my village, haad changed. We had a new leader. All of the Ragaini people were in the streets rejoicing and falling at the feet of Ormiou. He was the man that was to bring us freedom from the Foosas, the neighboring village-people.
The Foosas are quite a barbairic bunch.
Friday, May 14, 2010
This is My Blog
Okay so I already had a blog and for some strange reason I decided to make another one. I have no idea why. I created this blog back in March and I've been trying to figure out what to do with it ever since then and just a couple minutes ago, it hit me. I was watching this episode of Degrassi where Claire posts these stories online. I used to be so into writing. I think it all went out the window when I got a boyfriend. I didn't need a fantasy world anymore because my boyfriend is the absolute best Prince Charming. Anyway, on this blog I will post all the crap that I write. Let me forwarn you: my writing is nowhere near good. It's actually pretty damned horrible. I am hoping it will get better.
I like to write about things as soon as I think of them so sometimes this might not make sense. For example, I might just write something like 'Raine-->India--->Adopted.' Posts like that will be for my own benefit. I think my first project will be following the lives of different teenage girls. Here's how this is going to work: the title of each post will clearly state a name and a number. The name will be the name of the girl from whose perspective I'm writing. The number will represent the story number. Example: if today was the first day I was writing about Raine title would be something like 'RAINE the Intro (1)'.
Hopefully this makes sense. If it doesn't make sense then... I guess it doesn't really matter. It's not like anyone is going to read this anyway! :)
I like to write about things as soon as I think of them so sometimes this might not make sense. For example, I might just write something like 'Raine-->India--->Adopted.' Posts like that will be for my own benefit. I think my first project will be following the lives of different teenage girls. Here's how this is going to work: the title of each post will clearly state a name and a number. The name will be the name of the girl from whose perspective I'm writing. The number will represent the story number. Example: if today was the first day I was writing about Raine title would be something like 'RAINE the Intro (1)'.
Hopefully this makes sense. If it doesn't make sense then... I guess it doesn't really matter. It's not like anyone is going to read this anyway! :)
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