Free Uglies!

Tally can't wait to turn sixteen and become Pretty. Sixteen is the magic number that brings a transformation from a repellent Ugly into a stunning Pretty, and catapults you into a high-tech paradise where your only job is to have a really great time. In just a few weeks Tally will be there.

But Tally's new friend Shay isn't sure she wants to be Pretty. She'd rather risk life on the outside. When Shay runs away, Tally learns about a whole new side of the Pretty world- and it isn't very pretty. The authorities offer Tally the worst choice she can imagine: find her friend and turn her in, or never turn Pretty at all. The choice Tally makes changes her world forever.

I read Uglies about two years ago and it completely changed my opinions on reading and books and just about everything. Yes, it was one of my great obsessions and my friends were all sick of me going on about it after about six months, but it's still one of my favourite books.


The author, Scott Westerfeld, has posted links all over his blog to download it for free as part of the run up to the release of his new book Leviathan, I don't know how much longer it will be there so you better snag it quick.


I really recommend this series to anyone who has read The Hunger Games and loved it, as it has the same kind of futuristic, revolutionary feel. It really delves into what it means to be pretty and the politics of a totalitarian society, but also with the ever needed hints of romance and teenage angst.


This is the link to his blog, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

http://scottwesterfeld.com/blog/?p=1294

Sasha x

UPDATE: People in the UK who are waiting for Catching Fire, head down to your nearest Waterstones, because it seems to be avaliable early there ^_^

Waiting For Angels

DON'T WORRY I'M ALIVE!

I have yet again been awesomely lazy and deserve to eaten by an escalator- Yes, I saw the final destination IN 3D! and that was by far the most awesome death ever.

I know nobody really wants to hear about my life etc etc so I'll treat you to something I wrote a few weeks ago which is really just a completely random idea. I wasn't going to post it because it's so horrifically bad, but I'm just trying to distract you from the fact that I haven't typed up any more Soul Searching.

I have no idea for a plot or anything with this yet, it's simply a scene that came to my head, and it kind of fizzled out before i could properly finish it, so I hope it actually makes a bit of sense. I've given it a little title of Waiting for Angels- hence the title of this blog. If you like it let me know and maybe you'll get a little bit more ;)

The moon light trickled through the open window and the gauzy white curtains fluttered in the breeze. Leah waited for the angel.
Maybe tonight he’ll come. Please. He has to.
She was sitting cross legged on her bed, looking up to the big silver moon that gave the air around her a bluish tinge. Leah had only met the angel once before. She closed her eyes and remembered the gentle swoosh of wings as he came to land on her windowsill. Beautiful white feathers that shone against the midnight sky. His eyes were the colour of sunlight, set amongst flawless, angular features and framed by a halo of golden curls. He wore jeans and nothing else, an upgrade from the traditional white robe pictured in the paintings of long dead believers. His bare feet padded across the carpeted floor with the stealth of a cat as he came to where she sat on the bed, as she sat now.
Even if Leah had wanted to she couldn’t have moved as she melted under the angel’s gaze. His eyes never left hers, not for a moment. He moved with purpose, even with his huge wings folded tight against his back the tips of his feathers still brushed along the floor behind him.
The angel stood over her so she had to crane her head to keep his gaze, he looked down at her, taking in every inch of her bewildered expression, her flyaway mane of white blond hair, the big white T-shirt she wore to bed that left an indecent amount of leg on display. He took her hand, gently, and her skin had the feeling of being bathed in evening sunlight under his touch.
Leah found herself standing as great white wings enclosed her. Something cold was pressed into her hand and she curled her fingers around it, unable to tear her gaze away to see what it was. He looked at her a few seconds longer and then bent down as if to kiss her, with his mouth at her ear he whispered so softly the words sounded as if they had been carried by the breeze.
“Safe, Leah.”
And then he was gone. Leah shivered with the sudden lack of his feathery embrace, feeling the bite of the night breeze as she was released from his spell. She climbed back into bed, too tired to stand any longer, and began to drift, all the time with the Angels gift clutch tightly in her palm, like an unopened present.
The next morning Leah awoke to the sound of birdsong through her open window, and dreamlike memories of feathers and sunlight. A sight escaped her lips.
It’s always a dream.
Leah rolled over to face the window which was streaming morning sunlight and a soft glinting caught her eye. Her arm was sprawled across the pillow next to her head; the glinting came from something enclosed in her clenched fist. Slowly, she opened her stiff fingers like a flower unfurled its petals. Twined around her fingers was a slim silver chain, and hanging from the chain a silver pendant. A feather, so detailed that when she touched it she almost expected to feel the softness beneath her fingertips. Her mind travelled back to the depths of the night before and she stumbled towards the window, the muscles in her legs still relaxed from sleep.
Something fluttered, caught in the window frame. A white feather, a real one this time. As Leah carefully dislodged it she could almost hear the rustle of wings. She closed her eyes and stroked the softness of the feather across her cheek, basking in the warmth of the morning sun.
That was no dream.
She turned and swept her hair over her shoulder, clasping the chain around her neck.
Safe, Leah.

The words echoed through her head.

You can tell from this how much difference a second draft makes. :/

Hello, Piczo.

I was sorting out all my millions of random favourites on my Internet explorer and came across all of the websites I used to use for photos and HTML codes and stuff back in the day when I was a piczo/ myspace fiend. Look what I found! This is only one of the many photos I found as I was browsing about. I don't know why but I could look at some of these photos for ages. There could be so many stories behind this one, for instance, and I just want to write them all down.

Something else nice, i found this amazing cover of Kings of Leon's Use Somebody by Pixie Lott.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5o8L-Or0O4

It almost moved me to tears, I'm a complete sap for these things. Anyway, I was surprised at how amazing it sounds acoustic, so much less ugly than the real version.

I'll leave with a little poem i jotted down in the back of my much abused writing note book (nicknamed Kieran, surprisingly.) when I was just contemplating a few things to do with Soul Searching etc, mostly so far into the future that I doubt I'll ever get round to writing them down.


Hope glimmers
In the darkness,
At the centre.
At the soul
A small white light
Flickers,
And it's all we need
To get through one more day.
With hope
At my side,
I have something to live for.


Sasha x

Soul Searching part II, part.. uh 2?

Hello Earthlings. I come bearing more of your favourite long short novel story type thing. It's only a short part really, I'm being lazy and you have my permission to punish me in any way you see fit.
So yes, this is a little more, not even the rest of the part, but at least it's something right? It's basically just a tonne of stuff about the Soul Society, ridiculously boring probably compared to the heart rending action of part I (ha.) but it's essential so we're just going to have to power through. (I promise I'll think of a more intelligent way to do this in the real thing ^_^)



Minutes pass that seem like hours, and hours pass that seem like minutes. We sit, entranced, on the edge of our seats as Zain animatedly tells us all that we’ve been longing to hear.
Kieran and I, we’re connected on another level. More intense than most people can ever even hope to experience. But with the magnitude of this dependency comes consequence.
“Your souls are like conjoined twins…” He says. People have always said that Kieran and I were joined at the hip. I guess they weren’t so wrong. “… That share a vital organ, if you are separated, your condition, both physical and mental, will deteriorate until eventually, you die.” Those last words are so blunt, so final that it seems all the air has been sucked out of the room. We sit in a stunned silence; my head feels suddenly dizzy again.
Zain leans forward in his seat, the expression on his face serious, almost grave.
“You guys are lucky you found us when you did. Another couple of days being separated like that and for one of you this might have proved fatal.”
“But… but…” I blurt out, shaking my head “we were with each other practically all the time, I mean, apart from the first few days, but after we figured out something was wrong…” I trail off.
“I didn’t mean to do anything,” Kieran says softly, solemnly looking at his shoes like a kid being made to apologize for some petty playground crime. “I… I was just so angry… I can’t even remember what about.” He looks up sharply, his determination barely covering the fear and vulnerability beneath. “You can fix us right?” Kieran demands tentatively, he seems almost afraid of what the answer might be.
After an agonizing pause Zain finally replies “Of course.” With a small, but reassuring smile. I hear Kieran echo my sigh of relief. “Actually, you probably could have fixed it yourselves if you knew how, although it requires cooperation on both parts.” He looks sharply at Kieran, although he can see something in his mind.
In the Soul Society logic doesn’t exist in the same way as anywhere else, like a faerie plain from old folklore. Zain said earlier that sometimes you can catch glimpses of things in other people, not just your own soul mate, sometimes even glimpses of the future. There’s no art to it, no way it can ever be controlled or pinned down, it just… happens.
I choose not to linger on whatever Zain saw, and neither does he, choosing instead to delve back into his lecture.
“From the very moment your eyes first met, your minds have been connected, no matter how far apart, physically, you were from each other, and pretty much always will be. But if either of you so something, either accidentally or on purpose, to disrupt that bond and cut yourself off from your partner, it can have fatal consequences, as I’ve already told you.”
We spend hours learning how to reach out to each other with our minds, reforming the bonds. We also learn how quickly they can be shattered. Zain teaches us how to send snippets of thought to each other and build walls and doors in order to keep our private thoughts in place.
“It takes a long time to master these techniques, to be able to truly control what you share. Most of the time, if you feel strongly about something, it’s harder to control it. Thoughts are easier to screen than emotions.
“Of course, there are always some who seem to master these things quicker than others, and are also able to become stronger in their techniques, so strong sometimes that their partners can barely feel their presence.” This time Zain is looking straight at me. I feel like those eyes can see right through me, all the ways to the things that I don’t even know about myself yet.
He holds my gaze for a few seconds, searching, but then turns back to his lecture. I glance over Kieran, but he didn’t seem to notice what just happened. He is staring out of the large window beside us. With our minds finally reconnected I can see that he’s thinking about the time. I can’t tell how long we’ve been here. The sky outside the window seems forever blue.
Later on Zain is telling us a little more about the Soul Society and I can’t help but marvel at the enthusiasm he’s managed to keep up all this time. There is so much information that he has to get through to me and Kieran and yet he has managed to keep our attention from wondering better than any teacher I’ve ever had, and this lesson has gone on far longer than the standard hour.
The Soul Society is a safe haven for people like us. There is no need to remain connected here; nothing affects us if we shatter. It’s like our bodies our frozen in time, making deterioration and ageing impossible, although over time appearances tend to become… altered, like Zain’s eyes and hair. The more time someone spends here, the more resistance they build up to the harsh forces of the outside world. It’s almost as if they become part of the place itself as the power they possess here in their minds slowly begins to return to the world with them.
Many people who have lost their soulmates choose to live on here, never ageing, in this dreamlike place where everything comes down to the mere power of the mind. They choose to live on and help the next generations from making the same mistakes, even though they are missing half their being.
“Zain, these people, these… lost souls you are talking about…” I struggle to find the right words.
“- am I one of them?” He finishes my question for me. The glint seems to fade from his eyes a little, a sad smile playing on his lips. “I’m afraid so.” He sighs and refocuses on us, his expression very serious.
“I think it’s time for you to learn that the Soul Society has enemies. Enemies that will ruthlessly destroy your bonds and torment your soul, then consume what little you have left and use it to feed their own sick addiction. They are so changed by this habit that they can barely be classified as human. I’m talking about the Gamaitha.

Bleach and Banksy

I promise i won't do this every time but...
YAY ANOTHER FOLLOWER YAYAYAY! I can use plural terms now! (Kieran says yay too!)


Ohhh, i must get typing! I had set aside today to really get my creative juices working but then my sister got me all involved in a major Bleach/ Air Gear marathon (Yes, i confess, me= closet anime geek) so i kind of forgot about that. On the plus side we must have devoured a RECORD amount of popcorn AND there's this character who is just sooo Kieran, except for cuter and with a hat and 2D and roller skates... OK so he's blond. But that counts ^_^.


Only a short one, I know, but I shall leave you with one of my favourite pieces of art in the history of art ever, courtesy of Mr. Banksy. I have this obsession with fallen angels going on, I don't know why, it started when i was in Venice with my mother. She was taking me around all these museums and galleries, trying to get me to take interest in the art, and then we walked past this tiny back street art shop. I just stopped at this poster in the window and was like: MINE! I'll try to figure out how to get the photo from my phone to my computer eventually and upload it for you... I'm quite terrible when it comes to leads and wires. We do not get along to say the least.
I appear to have meandered off the track a bit now, but anyway, this is a piece by Banksy, who's exhibition I'm off to see in Bristol next week. I'm already ridiculously exited.





Sasha x

Soul Searching Part II

Hello hello, I've typed my fingers off to churn out another chunk of Soul Serching just for you! This isn't the entire part, it's a long one, but hopefully enough to fulfill any burning needs (ha.).
Enjoy :)


PART TWO
DREAMS



I dream of my memories, of my past, of Kieran. We’ve been through so much together and yet is seems we grow apart every day. I’ve seen into the very depths of Kieran’s soul, and yet our miscommunications are still fatal. How could we let this happen again?
My dreams are vivid and startlingly clear. Each slips and slides into the next before it is properly finished so that the end of one becomes the beginning of another. Memories I’ve tried to bury, and others that I hold dear all raise their heads and in the fight for dreamspace as I drift among them.

The blackness of unconsciousness enveloping around me slowly thins into a fine grey mist that feels cool and moist against my skin.
I am small. The playground around me is filled with parents and older children. They all seem so tall. The ominous building in front of me is the biggest of them all.
I am not scared about my first day of school. This new experience seems like an exciting adventure to my young mind. Even so, I can’t help but feel butterflies of nervousness fluttering around in my small chest.
My mittened hand is clamped tight to another, it is so big it almost completely envelopes mine in its grasp. I look up at the owner of the hand but I can’t see their face. The body seems so tall that it reaches up into the sky. I can see my breath curling up towards it in the frosty September air.
I’m a dragon. RAWR!
I take a deep breath and it shoots out in a line in front of me, like the smoke from a dragons lungs. I imagine flames licking at chapped lips.
A few minutes into my game I am suddenly called back to reality as a strange surge rolls through my chest. My little heart beats faster and I feel a strange force pulling, beckoning me towards the entrance of the school.
I drop the hand I am holding and slowly turn around to face the gates. It is there that I find the source of this strange energy.
A small, blond haired boy stands in the entrance, clinging to his mother’s leg. He buries his face in her thigh and wails.
Like everyone else in the playground, the boy’s mother’s head seems to disappear into the clouds. I feel a strange urge to protect him.
As I watch the boy seems to sense my presence. His wailing abruptly ceases as he turns to stare at me with wide blue eyes.
In that moment everything going on around me seems to stop. I feel his fear in the back of my mind; I can almost hear his thoughts. His presence seems to fill an empty space inside me that I hadn’t noticed until now.
Involuntarily me feet begin to move, one in front the other, carrying me towards him. I come to a stop about a foot away. Not once have we broken our gaze.
Tentatively, I hold out my hand to him. The boy releases his grip on his mother’s leg and takes it, still looking at me with the same wonder that I can feel overflowing inside me. My skin tingles through the glove at his touch.
I look from our hands to his face and grin at my new sandy-haired friend. He grin back and together we walk through the crowd of insanely tall strangers and towards the ominous building before us…

…Kieran squeezes my hand. The walk down the long and unfamiliar hallway seems endless. Finally we are going to find out what the strange bond that was forged between us that first day in the playground is.
I am twelve years old. But the strains of my bond with Kieran, the fact that nobody seems to understand what he means to me, have already caused me- both of us in fact, to mature beyond our years.
After what seems like an eternity of following the ghostly figure that finally answered our calls for help we come to a stop.
A tall but narrow white door stretches up before us. I look behind me but all I can see is the long white hallway stretching back into the distance. It is brightly lit, although there are no lights or windows. It’s almost as if the unchanging walls are emanating their very own luminescent light, leaving no place for shadows to linger.
When I turn back to the door, our ghostly guide had disappeared. I look towards Kieran but I’m afraid to speak in this strange place, it just doesn’t seem right. It’s so strange to knowing his thoughts after the seven years we’ve spent together, our souls and sub consciousness’ endlessly entwined. He was always there, somewhere, even when we were physically miles apart.
Taking a deep breath I reach towards the brass doorknob and slowly turn it, suddenly afraid of what’s inside.
Kieran puts his hand over mine on the handle and we push open the door together.
It opens into a large room. Bare and white like the hallway, except for a large window in the wall opposite me, showing a clear blue sky. There is a single chair in front of the window. On that chair sits a man.
Long, deep purple hair hangs straight down his back. The man stares longingly out of the window, off into the depths of the sky.
Kieran and I stand awkwardly next to the door before the man gets up out of his chair. He looks at us with wise eyes. They are such a vivid emerald they seem almost unreal. He spreads his long arms elegantly before him.
A deep and calming voice spills from his lips.
“Welcome.”
I open my mouth to speak but I can’t find my voice. I am so nervous but as soon as I look into this strange man’s eyes it all drains away. I know I can trust him. I know he can answer our questions. Despite his youthful appearance- About in his mid to late twenties- his eyes hold such knowledge that could not be obtained over a single lifetime.
Kieran’s grip on my hand relaxes, and, even without being connected to him, I can tell he feels the same way.
The man chuckles at our bewildered faces and gestures towards the window where two more elegant looking chairs have appeared, their satin upholstery matched the man’s hair.
He grins at us.
“Take a seat; I’m sure this is a lot to take it. My name is Zain, I am your mentor, and behalf of everybody here I would like to welcome you to the Soul Society.”
This is all so surreal, I manage to teeter over to a chair and drop down into the surprisingly comfortable seat. Kieran takes the seat next to me, perching tentatively on the edge while Zain sprawls in a big armchair that I could have sworn was a wooden chair just moments ago.
Zain regards us for a few moments with those piercing eyes and sighs.
“Well, Scarlett, Kieran… Congratulations!” What? This was not what I expected. “It’s so rare for two soulmates to connect at such a young age, in fact most people’s soulmates don’t even live in the same time as them, let alone get to meet each other. I’m surprised you managed to survive so long undetected.” Survive? There are more dangers to this world than I thought.
“The Soul Society is a safe haven for people like us. We can teach you how to develop your bonds, and shield yourself from the dangers that could pounce at any moment, if you’ll allow us.” He pauses to give us a crinkly-eyed grin.
“I have been assigned as your mentor, someone to teach you and listen to you, and help you understand just how important you’ve now become to each other.”
If I were in any other situation I would find this all completely unbelievable, but in this place I could probably believe anything.

Sasha x

Meet Kieran

OK, before i get rambling i have a couple of things to say (whether they're worth your time or not i don't know but I'm damnn exited about them)

1. FIRST FOLLOWER! I logged on this morning and there was this unfamiliar little green thing in the corner. I'M SO HAPPY! i was honestly expecting this blog to float about talking to air for the rest of it's life ;)

2. Just look at my beautiful new laptop! I'm finally getting my own laptop and wireless in our house on Thursday which means more time to write in peace for me and more posts for you! Now i just need to figure out how to fit the piano into my room...

3. I just found the spellcheck button. That makes things so much easier for me.

Right, so on with today's post. I thought maybe I'd just introduce Kieran to the world wide web a bit more. In my messed up, dreamy little brain, he is by far the most prominent character, and I don't know if anyone else who writes might understand, but it's almost as if I've come to know him as a person rather than just words in a note book.

I don't know if anyone has ever read one of those blogs that authors create which are basically their characters blogs. All the posts are written by their characters as a sort of extension to the story they tell in their books, but also a different way to get news across (try taking a look at http://mysocalledundeath.blogspot.com/, an awesome example, but also an amazing young adult series). I've always loved this idea, so every now and then I'm going to step back and let my characters step up to the.. uh... keyboard.

Kieran

Hey, nice to meet you. It's good to stretch my fingertips after being caught up in such an emotional whirlwind for so long. So much had happened that nobody has even scratched the surface of in the things they've written. Soon I'll have my say.

But enough of that depressing reminiscent stuff. I'm here to tell you about the here and now, about myself, well, as much as I can without ruining the story for you.

My name is Kieran Swallow, I'm 15 years old, 16 come October. To some of you that might seem so young, but I've already lost enough to last a life time. I'm 6'1, sandy blond hair and blue eyes that Scarlett has always said look like oceans. Basically one of those pretty teen fiction stereotypes- not that I'm complaining, and not that I care, I've got my soul mate. Even if it isn't exactly conventional at the moment.

I think that's all I can write for now, considering you are yet to meet or even find out about most of the prominent things in my life, the things which have basically shaped me since i first locked gazes with Scarlett across the playground ten years ago.

So it's goodbye for now, but look back for part two of soul searching soon, hopefully things will start to make more sense...

Kieran.

Soul Searching

Okk, then. Fresh from the oven, i just finished typing up the first part of, well i don't know what to call it really. Too long to be a short story, too short to be a novel. I suppose i can leave that for you to decide.
I actually started writing this for an english homework about 'frienship'. But I kind of got a little carried away, I suppose i could call it a character building exercise before I move onto the real thing now. Anyway, i hope anyone who spares their time to read this enjoys it, and i'd love any comments you'd like to say ^_^

It has a working title of 'Soul Searching'



PART ONE
DIZZY

Scarlett Messenger
English Poetry Homework

The spirit shines in their eyes,
Or rather lack of it,
Their dark disguise.
Svelte movements deemed unworthy of all those earthly.

A sense of calm from them exudes,
But our pain and anguish is theirs to use.
The dark disguise, disguises too
Their source of strength
From human view.

13th October 2009












IMAGES. There are so many images. They linger in my head, flash before my eyes every time I blink, and yet, when I try to chase them I find nothing. I can’t remember anything about them, except the fact that they’re there.
Kieran, please. I’m falling.
I slip closer to the edge every day, things are happening to me, things I can’t control. I plead to empty air, my head is still a barren wasteland. He still won’t talk to me, won’t even look at me. I don’t think I can bare another moment without Kieran.

I sit alone in our English classroom with my head between my knees; silent tears drip down my cheeks and create a pattern of dark dots on the ugly brown carpet beneath my chair.
If I squint it looks like a broken heart.
The end of break bell echoes through my pounding head and I watch as the people lounging on the benches outside the ground floor window- enjoying the global-warming-induced Indian summer- reluctantly start to shrug on their blazers and head off to their next lessons.
I blink furiously to stem the flow of my tears. Soon a class full of rowdy students will occupy this room. I can’t let him see me like this, I just... can’t.
The simple motion of sitting up sends my stomach rolling and I resist the urge to gag, the foul aftertaste to bile still stains my mouth. The pain and nausea gets worse every day but I force myself to come to school. Kieran hasn’t come home in days, it’s the only place I can see him.
The class room starts to fill and I hide my tear stained face behind my long hair. The tears have stopped but my eyes are still res and swollen. The last thing I want is for somebody to make a fuss.
I sense Kieran’s presence before I see him. I glance through my hair to see him standing in the doorway, eyes scanning the room. The only spare seat is his usual one next to mine.
His piercing midnight blue eyes meet mine and they are full of hostility. I turn away.
Seconds later he drops his school bag a little too heavily onto the desk and takes his seat, moving as far away from me as the desk allows.
I watch as Kieran sneezes into a grotty tissue. When Kieran sneezes, it’s like three small sneezes all grouped together. He has dark bags under his eyes and his sand hair is limp and lifeless. It doesn’t make me feel better to see that I’m not the only one suffering.
I don’t know what I did to upset him like this. In all the time I’ve known him Kieran has never, ever, cut me off so deliberately like this.
What could I have done to make him want to hurt me so badly that he would let his own health be affected? Kieran’s my soul mate, but at times like these I understand him less than anyone.
I try, for the thousandth time, to reach out to him with my mind. I test the edges of the wall he’s build between us but, as usual, its flawless surface is impenetrable. No cracks, no weak spots, nowhere for me to prise my way into his mind.
I give up and allow myself to revel in my own misery for a few minutes. I miss feeling his presence in the back of my head so much. Like a guardian angel, albeit a fallen one, I feel so empty it’s painful.
We sit in silence until the teacher enters the room. I put my cheek against the cool surface of the desk. Kieran coughs into his fist and sneaks a Strepsil from his pocket to his mouth is one smooth, well practiced action.
I straighten up and look at him for a long moment. When he answers his name in the register his voice is thick and phlegmy.
I’m overcome by a sudden wave of anger towards him, ripping a page from the back of my book I scribble him a note. He will tell me what’s going on.

Kieran, just talk to me. I don’t know what
I’ve done but I’m sorry. So sorry. Please. I
can tell that I’m not the only one suffering here.

I fold the note twice and grab Kieran’s wrist. He tries to pull away but I anticipate this reaction, my grip is firm. I press the square of paper into his hand and close his fingers around it before releasing him. He exaggeratedly jerks his hand away and I feel what I like to call his ‘speciality death glare’ boring into the side of my head. I struggle to keep an even gaze towards the front of the classroom where our teacher is explaining the syllable patterns of a Haiku.
To my surprise, Kieran unfolds the note and begins to read my words. In truth, I was expecting him to just ignore it like he has every other time I’ve tried to get through to him.
He lets out a frustrated sigh and angrily scribbles a reply on the crumpled paper, before shoving it in my direction and folding his arms across his chest. My heart pounds as a scan his words.

You’re so stupid, Scarlett. Are you out of your mind?
You can’t honestly believe you’ll survive this. Have you any
idea how much pain you would put yourself, put ME through?

I read the note, then read it again, but I can’t find any sense in his words.
Despite its harshness, I still can’t stop the wave of happiness that washes over me as I realize that this note is the first time that Kieran has communicated with me in weeks. I clutch the crumpled piece of paper to my heart. I realize that he has been watching me as he raises his eyebrows and a small smile plays at his lips. For some reason Kieran has always found me hilarious.
For a second all the anger and hostility drain from his ocean eyes and I see the glassy film of ignorance that has settled over them dissolve into the soul beneath.
In that short moment his wall crumbles and I can see the doorway into the Kieran that I have missed so much.
Without thinking I hurl myself towards it. My mental fingertips brush the door handle. I’m almost there.
Then the second ends. Kieran slams his wall back in place twice as thick as before and shoves me back so hard that I cry out loud, cringing away from him in my seat. He glares at me through his sandy fringe, breathing heavily after getting rid of me with such force.
A fresh wave of nausea crashes into me, I close my eyelids and dark eyes stare back at me. Images rise up in front of me, I can’t tell if they are memories or premonitions. Bruises spreading over a pale throat, the orange light of a street lamp through the rain, bed sheets tangled around contorted legs, scream of pain as life ebbs from my fingertips...
I force my eyes open and tears burn down my feverish cheeks. It is only then that I notice that the whole class is staring at us. I hear someone stifle a giggle and others are visibly biting the insides of their cheeks to keep from doing the same.
I drop my eyes to the desk in front of me. The teacher clears her throat and asks,
“Is everything okay back there...?” Clearly more concerned about me disrupting her lesson than what could have possibly caused me to scream out loud.
Kieran mumbles a “Yes Miss,” but I shake my head. My stomach heaves and I clamp my hand over my mouth as it starts to fill with foul tasting bile. My head pounds with the teacher’s objections as I lurch from my seat. I need to get out of here.
Black spots cloud my vision as I stumble through the rows of desks towards the door. People cringe away from me like I’m infected with some contagious disease.


I feel fainter with every step... but I keep going. I only have to make it across the hall. I’m seeing double, thoughts whirlwind around by brain, dark images dance across my eyelids. I can barely concentrate on where I’m going... or why I need to go there.
Left leg right leg move...
Too many doors...
Scarlett...
I can’t see...
Keep going...
I can’t stand...
Black velvet...
Falling...
Gasps...
Darkness...

...Kieran. I’m on the floor; my head hurts... where am I?
Someone bursts into the back of my mind.
He’s here! He’s back! Oh, Kieran’s back. He’s back!
A thousand apologies and feelings and pains and pleas flood my throbbing head as Kieran crumbles his wall for good.
Tears, hot against my feverish skin, run down the sides of my cheeks and into my hair.
The ringing in my ears slowly subsides but my ears are immediately assaulted by a babble of anxious voices. Hands touch my face, my neck, my arms.
“Scarlett? Scarli? Can you hear me? C’mon Scarli, wake up... please? I’m so sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean...” Kieran chokes back a sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He mumbles as he takes my cold hand in both of his.
I don’t want to wake up, I want to go back to sleep. But Kieran is so scared, I can’t leave him like this, with great effort I peel back my eyelids.
The harsh overhead lighting blinds my suddenly sensitive eyes.
I screw them shut again and a small groan escapes my lips. No images, the images are gone.
“Scarlett? Do that again. Open your eyes for me!”
My eyelids flutter open for a second time and I find the light has been blocked out by a blurry shadow looming over me.
I blink a few times and the picture swirls into focus.
My vision is filled by Kieran. His face is open and anxious, Sandy hair flopping into watery eyes. The corners of my mouth twitch into a small smile as I see he has dropped the harsh mask.
Kieran sees this and smiles back at me, but his eyes are full of shame and apology. His guilt and despair pulse through me like an electric current.
I try to sit up but nausea rolls over me once again and I slump back down to the floor.
Kieran’s worry peaks.
“NOnononono. Stay down.” He says soothingly, putting his hands on my shoulders to emphasize his point.
I whimper, my head hurts.
“Shhh. Scarlett. It’s OK. The ambulance will be here soon.” He takes my hand again and squeezes it.
I squeeze back feebly and try to smile at him but my face helplessly contorts as tears well in my eyes again.
As I cry, Kieran’s mood sinks lower and lower. I try to send reassuring thoughts to him but all I can muster is pain, worry, and more tears.
Suddenly I feel as if all my energy has been drained away and it takes all of my concentration to keep my eyelids open. My grip on Kieran’s hand loosens as my muscles relax.
He notices this and leans over me, saying my name anxiously.
I do my best to hold his midnight gaze and stay awake like he is asking me to, but I can feel myself slipping away again.
My eyelids slowly droop closed and I feel my senses draining away, like water down a plug hole as unconsciousness swallows me.

Sasha x

And so it begins... Ha.

Hello! It feels odd talking to thin air but maybe someone will stumble across my rambings eventually, and maybe even like it, so i'm going to persevere for now.


So this is basically a place that I can use to express my ideas both in my writing and music, and hopefully some people will give it a look and tell me what they think, but also just for me to rant out my opinions and delights and scenarios in my head that i would feels to stupid to talk about out loud.


Soul Keeping is the name i thought up for a novel, well a story really, that i'll probrably never get around to writing. I have my characters and my plot right there in my mind, sometimes so vivid it scares me, but so far I have zero motivation to put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, in this case.

So here is the place that, hopefully, they can come alive. I'll be introducing you to them in the near future, even if there's no one to see them at first.

I write alot of songs, or parts of songs, or poems, but they very rarely get to the point that I write some music to put to the words. Secretly I'm always pining for people to read my stuff ;)Hopefully I will manage to get a recording or link up once I actually get started on that whole side of things.

Ahh, that sounds like such a broad topic of things I want to write about, but I'll give it a try, and, who knows, maybe if this blog suvives past two posts, I'll sort my head out and manage to refine it to the things I'm really passionate about.

I guess, this is over and out then. For the first time, and hopefully not the last!



Sasha x