Silent Hill drabble 5/25/2010

I wrote this based on events between games 1 and 3. I love Silent Hill and the relationship between Heather and her  father Harry. I pretty much love all of Silent Hill and the universe. I would love to make a psychological story like that. Anyways, that's neither here nor there. For now, here's what I wrote.

~

Harry stared blankly at the TV where some show--sports or something--was on commercial break. He was slumped in his old arm chair glancing anxiously at the door every few seconds. She should have been home by now. The show's announcer shouted words that held no meaning for him as a crowd cheered. He turned the power off and rushed over to the phone. He would start down the line. There was a list of numbers he would methodically call whenever she was late. First was the local police and then the hospital, followed by the mother of some friend. Last was the police station in Brahams. He had never had to call down to that number and prayed he never did because if he did, it would probably be too late.

"Hello, Ashfield Police," the voice on the other end answered, sounding bored, "how can I help you?"

"My daughter's missing. She was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago." Harry said urgently into the receiver.

"Sir, we can't file a missing person's case over just twenty minutes. How old is she?"

"My daughter's sixteen and--"

"Oh, a teenager," the police officer on the other end chuckled.

"You don't understand. Heather's not like this." Harry leaned against the wall.

"Sir, every parent doesn't want to think their child could be a wild party girl, but trust me, she's probably so busy hanging out that she let the time slip away. If you don't hear anything in another hour or so, then you can call us again."

"Hey wait!" Harry shouted as the officer hung up. He growled in frustration and began punching in the numbers for the hospital. The phone had started to ring when the door handle turned and in slinked his little girl.

"Hello, Ashfield general," another bored voice asked. Harry placed the receiver back on the cradle and glared at his daughter with narrowed eyes.

"Sorry Dad," she looked away, shifting under his glare uncomfortably. "I missed my bus because I dropped my bag and the wind decided that it would steal my essay." Heather laughed nervously.

Harry sighed. It wasn't her fault that he was so uptight. He reached forward and pulled her into his embrace. She breathed in deeply, hugging him back. "It's okay. I just worry about you."

"I know," Heather said as she turned towards her room. "Oh, the library had pizza for the children today and I stole a few slices, so you don't have to worry about making dinner tonight." With that, she entered her room and closed her door behind her.

Harry couldn't help but smile. She was always looking out for him as much as he did for her. It wasn't either of their faults that they were in the situation they were in even if in the begining he had blamed her. This child had come from the world of someone's nightmareish delusions brought to life and it was his job to keep her safe. He may have hated her in the begining for not being his little Cheryl, but now she had grown to be something even more and he loved her more every day. Her spirit shined through and she was a daughter any father would feel lucky to have, especially him, especially after what it took to get her.

Harry began whistling to himself as he pulled a microwave meal from the freezer.

drabble of some sort 5/8/2010

I don't even know why I wrote this or the purpose or anything, but here it is.

~

The stars were bright that night. I remember it well. Unlike here, the city lights were covered and provided merely an ambiant glow to guide the way rather than a blazing flash of white that drowned out the sky. I wanted to mention that to her, but it seemed redundant. She had grown up here in this city rather than the bustling metropolis I'd come from. The whole city was gorgeous and it was filled with music and fetivities rather than speeding cars and police sirens. How could she want to leave all of this? I hadn't even been here two days and I'd already fallen in love. With more than the miasta setting.

"Are you sure you want to leave?" I turned to her. Her eyes were on an accordian player, pulling and pushing his instrument. Polka music streamed from its bellows to the amusement of the gathered crowd. In front of him, a cup full of gold coins glinted in the street light. A few of the people had started to dance and the rest clapped along to the beat.

"Yes." She said simply. She turned to me and smiled. "Don't worry."

"But it's so peaceful here. Where I come from, I'd give anything for this." I leaned on the railing of the balcony we were standing on. It overlooked the square and offered the perfect view of everything. I almost wished I was just one of the normal civilians dancing without a care in the world rather than what I was. What we were.

"This has been my home for so long. I think I'm ready to leave." She walked over and stood beside me, leaning on the railing as well.

"It's a big risk. What if we don't come back to Krakow?"

She went to say something and then paused. I looked beside me and she was gone. I only worried for a second before I felt reassuring arms encircle me. "You took a big risk coming here." I closed my eyes and breathed in. The scent of her, cinnamin with a hint of apple, filled me. I felt tears come to my eyes. I turned in her arms so I was facing her and hugged her back. "It's going to be fine."

"Yeah," I sighed, tears coming to my eyes. "I just...What if people won't let us be? What if something goes wrong? This whole thing, what if --" She put a finger to my lips.

"You worry too much." And then to make sure I wouldn't continue with the what-if's, she brought her lips to mine.

There would be lots of worries and trials on the way. I knew this beyond a doubt. For right now, though, we had this moment to hold and it would be there to carry us along whatever we would face along the way.

Wenn ich war König von Deutschland

I wrote this for German class. It amuses me still.

ooo

          Wenn ich war König von Deutschland ich zuerst würde überfallen Polen. Nachdem, den ich keine mehr Länder überfallen würde, die so andere Nationen Krieg gegen Deutschland nicht führen würden. Dann würde ich Polen ‚Deutschland 2‘ nennen aber ich würde sie verwandeln ihre Währung zu Euros nicht machen. Ich würde eine Partei für alle von Polen und Deutschland werfen. Befreien Sie Bier und befreien Sie Nintendo Wiis würde gegeben werden zu jedem.

           Jeden Freitag würden die Leute alberne Hüte tragen. Ich würde die ganzen Videospiele kaufen die ich je habe gewollt und spielt sie jeden Tag. Nachdem, der ich die Stadt von ‚Silent Hill‘ in Luxemberg neu erschaffen würde. Verbrecher würden dort geschickt werden, für ihre Verbrechen zu bereuen.

           Ich würde Halloween Deutschland einführen. Ich lassen bauen eine Disney Welt in Berlin zu vermehren Tourismus. Dann würde ich marschierend Band steht zur Verfügung in Schulen machen. Die obersten marschierenden Bänder würden für mein Vergnügen konkurrieren. Ich würde das oberste Band mit freier Wurst für ein Jahr. Der Gewinner würde Karten zu einem Rammstein Konzert erhalten. Auch würde ich Anita Campitelli befreit Konzertkarten für eine hundert Jahre geben.

           Ich würde einen Volkswagen Beetle kaufen. Ich würde die Welt mit meinen Freunden reisen. Dann würde mich ich mit dem Leiter jedes Landes treffen und würde das gute Wort von Deutschland ausbreiten. Ich würde zurückkehren und die Leute würden sich freuen und würden mir Abendessen kaufen. Ich würde dann jene Person befreit Speise für immer geben.

           Deutschland wäre ein Land der Glücks und Festlichkeit. Ich hoffe meine Zeit, als König gute Erinnerungen mit den Leuten verlassen würde.

Reverse Rain Poem 3/10/2010

This poem goes with a short story I wrote.

~

You live your life through others lies
You see only what you want
hidden
Like a daffodil that never blooms
You aren't even sleeping are you?
Gave up on that a long time ago.
drifting
The shadows you live in flicker
A candle flame dancing.
The wax burns your hand.
You aren't used to the heat are you?
raining
Your life drizzles slowly by.
Images dance in the distant light.
Do you hear them calling out to you?
Their voices compose your symphony.
forever
Blood-stained hands mark your path
You can't give back a wasted life.
Nothing left to see.
tired
So why worry now?
You've earned this.
sleep

Oh God my Eyes 9/21/2009

I wrote this as a distraction for my roommate when she needed to be doing homework and was depressed over the amount she had. It was our two horrible OCs we made to troll an RP someone we both hated had made on a forum. I actually really like this in that it makes me laugh even now. It's purposefully horrible. I'd actually love to finish this as a parody or just a complete nonsense story.

~

Alyssa stepped out on the deck of her ship. She glanced upward at the beautiful sky. It was a pleasant day and not a bird in sight. There were clouds, but no birds. Unbeknown to her, the birds were actually in the clouds. She just couldn’t see them.

“Full speed ahead,” she commanded. She walked towards the railing of the ship, peg-leg clunking with every other step. It was quite a serene noise with the waves as background; music to her silver hoop earring bearing ears. “It’s a good day for sailing,” she commented idly as she breathed in deeply the sweet and sour sea air with a pinch of salt. Or was it a dash? She never was good with cooking.

“Why is this ship not moving?” She asked the crew. She heard something that clunked with every step, which quite threw off the rhythm of her every other clunk. Wait. There was an odd third clunk. What could make three clunks, she wondered. Was it three hopping pirates? Could it be a three legged dog? She didn’t like dogs. Or was it a parrot? Parrots could mimic noises and it was possible a parrot was mimicking her. Except, now that she thought about it, the clunks sounded much older. That, and parrots had gone extinct hundreds of years ago. Why was she thinking parrots?

“Alyssa, get down here and stop playing pirate captain.” She heard a voice clouded with old shouting at her.

“God damn it mom, you can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my…damn it.” Alyssa turned to see a very old woman full of anger and rage the likes of which this world has never known glaring up at her.

“Don’t you talk to me that way, god damn it.” The old lady glared, shifting from peg leg to peg leg to cane, which, essentially, was also a peg leg. In fact, she referred to it as her third leg. She never understood why others laughed when she said this, but she didn’t care.

“Clementyne, isn’t it time for your prunes or juice or whatever old people do in the bathroom.” Alyssa glanced down at the crotchety old woman.

“It’s prunes and what I do in there is none of your business.” Clementyne rapped her third leg on the deck of the ship. “Anyways, it’s time to stop pretending you are a captain and step up to the plate and become one.”

“Mom, what does your fine china have to do with me becoming a captain?” Alyssa asked. “Besdies, you sold your china years ago.”

“Then why are you bringing it up?” Clementyne growled, eying a nearby bug on the ground hungrily. “Mmm, reminds me of my army days.” Clementyne got lost in thought for a second, found herself, got lost again, and then snapped out of it. She got lost a third time, bought a map, discovered the map was actually for Italy, pondered for a moment what Italy was, and then found the exit. “Anyways,” Celemntyne continued as if nothing had happened, “I found us a crew.” Clementyne punched an old, veined fist into the air.

“Birds!” Alyssa shouted, spotting one peeking out from behind a cloud. Alyssa reached into a pocket on her long, red coat and pulled out her pocket cannon. She tossed her pegged leg aside and attached the pocket cannon to her waiting stump for optimal shooting stability. “Die bird!” She shouted, aiming at the bird and firing away. She missed twice and on the third try, she hit her mark. The bird then plummeted into the ocean.

“God damn it,” Clementyne and Alyssa shouted in unison.

“Now what’re we supposed to eat for dinner?” Clementyne glared at Alyssa. “Not only did my bug get away, but I’m out of bathroom prunes.”

“What were you saying about a crew?” Alyssa asked, putting her pocket cannon away nonchalantly. She then reattached her peg leg and clunk-stepped over her mom.

“Quit that,” she yelled at her tall, well endowed daughter. “Anyways, yes, the crew. I have one.” Alyssa clapped animatedly. “We can’t eat them, but maybe they have some food.” And so, the two set off to find the crew Clementyne had found and ask them for food.

Final Fantasy XII drabble 8/26/2009

I wrote this a long time ago when I first started playing Final Fantasy XII. I honestly never got far because I lost interest. I want to revisit it someday, but I did love the characters. Mostly Balthier, Fran, Ashe, and Basche. Their personalities were fun and so I wrote this little thing.

~

The land around them was differant from any they had seen before. The ground had almost a purple hue to it and was covered with a thick moss. They were standing on a dock of sorts that seemed rather peculiarily placed in a land with no water. The change of scenary had been abrupt from the forest that they'd just wandered out of and this dock had connected to their path. There were a few trees and little blue flowers dotted the landscape, but other than that, the eerie moss was the only plant life. Looking out further, stones had been placed evenly apart and zig-zagged through the land. The stones started where the dock ended. "What is this place?" Vaan asked, looking to Balthier, who usually knew this sort of thing.

"How should I know? I told you that I never bothered to come to these cursed grounds before because there's no profit from it. You’d do best asking Fran." Balthier said, motioning with his head to the tall woman beside him while fiddling with his shirt cuffs.

"These are cursed grounds. They are very dangerous, but not impassible if you're smart." Vaan must have been imagaining that she was looking at him when she said this.

"Cursed grounds?" Vaan made to step out onto the moss when a strong arm stopped him. Vaan looked up to see that Basche was tugging him back.

"Cursed as in 'don't touch' I would assume?" Balthier looked to Fran; however, it was Ashe who answered.

"These lands are cursed because of the wars of long ago and, I suppose, of today. The legend goes that some deity cursed them so that no human foot can tread on them until peace is restored." Ashe looked at the moss and turned to the stones. "Our ancestors placed these stones here for safe passage to the city when traveling on foot."

"So we just stone hop to Alkaterz?" Balthier asked, stepping cautiously to the first stone.

"That would be the idea," Ashe answered, following him.

"This is kind of silly," Penelo commented as she stepped on the first stone. She made to step to the second, but lost her balance. She stepped down to steady herself, but had stepped on the moss. Everyone took an audible deep breath, but after a few seconds, nothing had happened. Penelo moved her other foot to the moss and walked in a small circle. "Nothing." She looked up to the group.

"How can you walk on the moss?" Vaan asked, watching as his friend pranced about.

"Maybe I'm not human," she giggled.

"It seems the fairy tale was a fools story." Fran looked over at Penelo as Vaan stepped onto the moss with her.

"Don't they all turn out that way?" Balthier commented.

"I wonder why they have such a tale about this place?" Ashe wondered, a finger to her chin.

"Obviously they want to keep us out. So in we go, then?" Balthier looked up at her.

"It would seem so," Ashe laughed. And so the party journeyed fourth through the cursed lands of Colunah.

Balloon Man Story I want to write one day 6/11/09

I want to write this story one day...

ooo

Every year in this city, they hold a hot air balloon festival in the park where hot air balloons are flown and lots of merriment is had. Every year the balloon man wants to do the festival patrol but is stuck patrolling the park path leading to the festival. He can't see anything because of the trees hanging over and obscurring his view. He patrols back and forth, handing out balloons to people who run to the festival. As the festival begins, no one else passes through, but still he dutifully walks back and forth. That night when it's over, he parks his cart into the shed and walks home sadly. He makes a promise to himself that he will be the best balloon man he can be so they have to give him the festival patrol the coming year.

As he goes home, he notices a new neighbor in the room next to his 15th story apartment. It's a young woman who is suffering from cancer. The cancer is currently in remission and she wanted to move out and get some fresh air until it came back since this time could be fatal. Her best friend is a nurse and has agreed to live with her in case she needs anything. She has a bed in the living room by the window so she can see out into the skies above the city and dream she is flying through the stars. The balloon man inroduces himself and makes idle chat before going back to his room.

The year goes on and through it, he becomes very close to the young woman. Through the year, despite his promise to be the best balloonman, he falls back into his old habits; giving away a balloon to a girl who can't afford one, replacing the balloon of a child who popped his, accidently releasing a handful of balloons to help a child in need, etc. Because of this, come festival time, he's back to pacing the path outside once more.

He sadly does his duty and then come night fall and the festivel's end, he packs up his cart and turns to leave, hearing his fellow balloon men making fun of him as they leave. He sighs and sees that one of the hot air balloonists hadn't taken down their balloon yet. Without thinking further, the balloon man gets into the balloon and flies away. He navigates the balloon to the 15th story window of the young woman's apartment only to find her crying. Her cancer is returning with a vegence. He asks her to join him this night, to fly, to forget all their worries, and so she does. He helps her into the basket from her window and the two fly off into the night, holding hands.

He brings her back and returns the balloon to the park. The manager is furious at his recklessness, but instead of reportig him, he fires him. The balloon man sighs sadly and leaves. He had always wanted to be a balloon man, but it was worth it. He lived out his dream and the dream of his young lady friend. A few weeks later, she sadly passes away. Even though he's sad, he reads a note she left him thanking him for helping her live out her biggest dream before it was her time. He can't help but smile at the memories.

Eventually he moves out of the city and to the countryside where he gets a job piloting balloons for less fortunate kids. Bringing smiles to their faces warms his heart and so he lives happily ever after making the lives of others happy as well.