I Have a few ideas for novels-- the two houses, a story about family influence. The mask is the one I'm working on, and finally there will be a story about a female knight, like the one on my vault page. It's going to symbolize many things, and I think it will include battles with animals, men, lonliness and taking a child under her wing. In the end she will have a victory and be revered. I should finish one project at a time tho so I'll really try to rap up the Mask.


It occured to me that I should explain my poetry. There can't be any assumptions, and I can't expect people to ask me to explain it. The lengthy blank verse below is about my adolescent years, in search for affection, while fearing deceit. One path seems more dangerous than the other but the one that tempts is out of reach. The axe the character wields represents imaginary strength. The labyrinth picture in the background on the "Me" page you were just at would go somewhat with this illustration... she's sort of at the end of the forest in that picture. "The Sparrow" relates to the previous poem and is about the disappointment of unreturned love. The last is self-explanatory.


I have a biographical essay. It's quite personal. You'll have to ask me for it...








I stood wielding the fly swatter with a stare of wild malice on my face. The buzzing ceased abruptly with a sharp shreik after a flick of the wire had spelled the fly's doom. it had been caught out of thin air and thrust against the mirror where there was now a splatter of green and brown, and no cadaver.

Where did it go? Searching along the marble counter I spotted a few scattered apendages, each resembling an eyelash. I turned and spotted it in the very corner of the room. It had hit the wall and slid.

A wave of aggression had been deployed from my body. Did the sort of the evil high come from the mere sharp physical jolt? Or maybe the sight of the ugly black creature's still body? after a moment or two of drained breathing, the still sack looked sudenly like a scene of sorrow. the sound it had made when it hit the glass sirened in my ears and puzzled me. what was that noise?

Had the wings squeaked the together like a grasshopper's legs? Against the mirror? Or could it be that the fly had screamed before its death?

poetry

Huntress

Lost in the woods in a never-ending
Pitch black, tall shadows, edges of pine
Needles glowing with a faint eerie
Green hue in the moonlight. The moon that must
Have shown somewhere, somewhere from way up high,
Outside. Not here. Here is a black dream
Standing in thin air with feet on the floor
Which way to go? They are infinite.
Black emptiness tripping over thorns and
Bushes unseen, making no apparent
Progress until, a catastrophic sight.
There appears a tiny break through the trees
Through which appears a celestial body
Tiny, high overhead. This is not the
Moon though it gleams only so dimly and
Is half full. It is a dull, defeated
Sun, a bright, blue star driven into
It so now the sun looks like a cracked rock
The day is dark and the Earth under
Your feet loses its warmth. You hear
The sparrow singing in a tree, somewhere.
You hear it in your sleep when you drop to
The cold, barren forest floor, surrounded
By thistles and thorns, to rest from your aimless
Drowsy journey. It haunts your dreams with
Feverish tossing and turning. Its song
Is like nothing you've ever imagined
Yet you know it’s lived for eternity.
It tugs at your heart but when you awaken
You persist forward in the ceaseless dark
You must resist it, you must ignore it
The end of the world is full with wolves,
Thirsty for life in the friendly darkness.
You think you need protection. You seek
Help from a friendly bear. But will it really
Help you? Or will it betray you to devour
You in your sleep in its dark lonely cave?
It’s a risk you are willing to take
You feel everlasting. It can’t hurt you.
You would slice it with your sharp axe.
You rest with it in its warm fur
So content yet so defenseless. As you sleep you
Hear that bird with that mesmerizing song
Outside, and as the bear devours your flesh
And bones, you wish you were there holding it.
And then you awaken on the cold barren
Floor, the black tree tops overhead, the bird
Is there soothing your soul from frightening dreams.