Monday, 28 September 2009

OH NO SHE DIDN'T!



Remeber that post Thirty One Days from a week or so ago?
Well basically I've decided to carry on with that Idea. You don't need to go back and read it of you haven't because you'll probrably be spoiling it for yourself. I've created another blog just for this where I'll post each chapter as I finish it (We'll se how long that lasts... ha.). I figured it must get a bit annoying not being able to find all the bits of the story in one place.
    Anyway, I've posted the first draft of the Prologue here for y'all. I hope you enjoy it, but you'll have to excuse my quality of writing, it's pretty crappy at the moment (to be improved with practice).
    I'm quite into suicide/ grieving type novels at the moment, so that's what I'm writing about. I haven't really experienced much of what I write about I'll admit, but If I did write about the things I've experienced, well, it'd make for some pretty boring reading.



I've realised that basically all I write is soppy romance stuff, most of which is probrably completely unbelievable, but I suppose that's just what a normal (can I say that?) fifteen year old girl wants. Romantic, cheesey teen fiction. I love it. I mean, who cares if it's kind of unoriginal, or not written like a revolutionary classic? As long as you enjoy it that's ok right?
    I don't understand people my age who hatehateHATE teen fiction with a passion. I mean, yes, you're entitled to your opinions, but going on about it doesn't make you look any smarter. Some of the adult stuff I've read really isn't that different to the stereotypes people have of teen fiction, all the characters are just older and the drama happens at work rather than school. So if you say you hate teen fiction, doesn't that mean you should hate a great deal of the adult stuff too?

Sunday, 27 September 2009

Lamebook Moment


Hello there!



On friday I met some really nice new people and I hope they want to be friends with me because I really want to be friends with them.

Saturday, 26 September 2009

Quote of the day.

"This is a man who once constructed a bong using only the barrel of an air rifle, a ripe pear and an eight-by-ten glossy photograph of Anna Kournikova. Not the brightest gem in the jewellery shop, but you've got to admire his single-minded dedication to drug abuse."
-Looking for Alaska, John Green.


Friday, 25 September 2009

Life Skills



I am currently in a lesson where I learn about life, writing about life.
I had this realisation on the bus this morning that I really don't want to be an adult.
When you're young you get special treatment, exceptions are made for you.
You get cheaper cinema tickets.
You get cheaper travel.
People bend the rules for you.
People look after you- they make laws to save you from becoming an alcoholic or crashing a car.
When you're an adult people don't care as much anymore. You're just another one among the crowd.
You're not as... special.
Yeah, you might be able to drink
and drive
and smoke
and be generally more independant
But is that all really worth giving up my shallow worries for ones that actually matter?

Immaturity's coming back into fashion for me. I like it.

Thursday, 24 September 2009

Bad Day.




Sarah Walker broke my finger.
Therefore I can't play the piano.
It has swollen to double it's size and is an attractive shade of purple.
My teeth are going crooked again.
We have seven bottles of shampoo but not a drop of conditioner so I'm gonna have dreads tomorrow.
I broke my earphones.


Wednesday, 23 September 2009

A day in pictures.

I said I'd do it.
Today we had most of the day off of school because of speech day- basically an excuse for our school to show off how fantastic it is- so off we went for a day of fun in St. Albans.
That's all I'm going to write, I'll let you create your own version of events from there.
Enjoy my amazing photography yeah?































































Briony and Jo Davies, Rachel Mulcahy, Sarah Good, Molly Downes, Eleanor Austin, Nemily Evans, Alice Cunliffe, Jan Henney, Conor Niccolson, David I'm-not-even-going-to-try-to-spell-your-last-name, Chris Pollard and Nabi Shah.

and all the others I forgot to take photos of.
Thanks for lending me your good looks for the day ;)

Tuesday, 22 September 2009

Everybody's a blogger now.



Everyone seems to be discovering the blogging scene now. I like that.
I find that people write things on their blogs that they wouldn't necesarilly talk about face to face, or even facebook to facebook, even if they don't really realise it. It's like getting to see the other side of someones personality that you thought you already knew so well.
    I can't really complain, i mean, SEVEN FOLLOWERS! Even though most of them are my friends and not people I've attracted because they think what I write is actually interesting, it still feels good to see that little green number bump up one or two over night.
    When I first made this blog I wasn't going to let anyone I know know about it. I wanted to just really be myself and not be scared of what people think about my writing and some of the deeper things that I post on here. I guess I actually secretly wanted somebody I know to stumble across it one day. My resolve lasted all of one month before I decided to go start recruiting some followers.
    I don't think that the fact that more people that know me read this is going to change what I write. I'm still going to give a go at putting things I think, but don't talk about into words, because I do want people to know them somehow.
    The one thing is, now everybody else is doing it
    I don't feel so special.

Monday, 21 September 2009

Thirty One Days.

Lately I've been thinking and reading alot about death.
Here's somthing I wrote today. I like the idea of how grief messes with the mind, although I probrably could never say for sure how it feels as I've never lost anyone close to me before.
I don't really know how it ended up becoming so dark. I just thought maybe I could get a feeling of what some of these things are like if I wrote it down.
    I'm thinking of maybe expanding this idea into somthing more another time, but I'll show you my intitial ideas first. It's only a first draft so don't expect any masterpieces.
It started with a photo.




The sun finally peeks over the trees and spreads its orangey tendrils of warmth over me. The air smells fresh with the dew of the night and the birth of a new day. I pull the old patch blanket closer around me. It smells wonderful, just like Lucas. His presence is slowly fading from everything else of his I managed to rescue but it’s as if the spidery stitches of the quilt have captured wisps of his soul and are refusing to let them go.


I close my eyes and feel the warmth of the morning sun against them. I stretch out my stiff legs in front of me on the neatly cut grass. Lucas promised me once that we’d watch the sunset in the west, and watch the stars above our heads, and then watch the sun rise in the east. I’ve always wanted to do that.

We never got our chance. I’ve always been so scared of the dark. But with Lucas I felt safer; it took a lot for me to do this tonight. Alone.

I feel better, more peaceful for it.

My eyes still closed, I immerse myself in memories of Lucas. His touch, his presence, his smell. And he’s here. With me, curled up in the blanket on the lawn of his house that his parents have long abandoned for a new life where no one knows about what they’ve lost.

The garden is neat and clean and new, just like the first day I ever came here. I don’t know who’s keeping it, but they’re doing good job.

I can feel Lucas’ warmth beside me now, his arm around my waist, holding me closer. We watch the sun rise in a comfortable silence, content in each other’s presence. This is how it should be, two young people with two young lives spread out before them, golden ribbons of light intertwined in the moment.


My eye lids are so heavy, they droop and I rest my head on his shoulder. I’ve got to stay awake, got to finish the sunrise. Lucas’ Sunrise. Lucas’ voice in my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck. A whisper so soft, so as not to break the spell of the sun. Not even the birds dare to disrupt the beauty of the morning.

That wasn’t so hard.

“I had you.”

I can’t protect you forever.

“I know.”

One step at a time.

“I don’t want to move on. I want to keep you”

I’m not good for you.

“You’re the best for me.”

You know what I mean. You can’t waste your life on a dead boy.

“I’m not wasting my life with you. I’m happy like this.”

Are you?

“Yes. You’re here, that’s all I need.”

Am I here, Jessa?

“Yes, you’re here, I can feel you. You’re so warm, and my skin tingles where I touch you, and....”

He’s not here. I’m alone. My mind, I’m going crazy. He seems so real. He is real. But then he’s not. Lucas comes and goes and comes and goes and I live for the moments I steal with him. But every time he’s here, he’s telling me that he isn’t. He’s telling me to move on. He’s saying my name over and over in my ear and using words like free and flight and I don’t know what he means. I have no interest in life without Lucas.

I open my eyes and squint in the sunlight. The sky is a beautiful, deep blue. Another lovely day.

God I miss him so much. For every moment of content I manage to grasp, two more come where I feel the hole that Lucas left so sharp the only way to relieve the pain is to drag the knife across skin and let the sting and the well of blood overwhelm me.

Tears spill down my cheeks, into the soft fabric of Lucas’ quilt. I can never let him go, I just can’t. I realise this and no matter what he tells me, I can’t live without him any longer.

I’ve seen my sunset. I’ve seen my sunrise. I count the small scars on my arms and wrists, none deep enough to kill me, none deep enough to put me at rest. I’ve made up my mind and I don’t want to live any more.

I stand up, letting the quilt fall from my shoulders, exposing my thin white dress, damp where the nights dew has settled. More scars on my thighs. One for every day I’ve lived without Lucas.

I reach into the one of the small pockets of my dress and feel the cool metal of the penknife. Flicking open the blade I press it to my thumb and allow the blood it brings to well on my fingertip. I press the cut to the dress over my heart and allow the romance red stain to spread over the delicate fabric.

One last slash to the leg. Thirty one and I’ve made my choice. Lucas winces inside my head. I do not. I no longer feel the pain of my feeble efforts to distract myself.

I drop the knife to the ground and feel the warm trickle of blood down my leg.

My hand goes to my other pocket, the one that contains the sleeping pills I was prescribed to help me sleep after Lucas died. I’m going to sleep forever.

Thirty one days I lasted without you, Lucas. But I can last any longer. Thirty one days, thirty one scars, thirty one pills.

I rattle the pills in their little white container, the sudden noise startles a bird in a nearby tree and I hear the urgent snapping of its wings as it makes its escape.

I stand for a few more seconds, taking in the peaceful dawn, the dewy grass beneath my toes, the slight breeze that raises goose bumps on my bare arms and legs.

Suddenly I’ve had enough. Enough of this world. I can’t stand how it mocks me with all its beautiful things, even when I’m too numb to appreciate them.

I spread out Lucas’ quilt on the grass and Lie down on my back, looking up at the sky. I crack open the lid of the container and line the pills up on my stomach. I’ve been saving them for this day.

One

Two

Three

Four

My throat’s dry and at first it’s hard to swallow, but every pill brings me closer to Lucas.

Don’t do this Jessa.

Five

Six

Seven

Eight... Nine, Ten.

I’m getting impatient now.

Listen.

One by one the pills go down until I’m holding one tiny white cylinder in my palm. I can already feel the effects of thee drugs kicking in. My head is spinning, My stomach rolls. And yet I feel strangely happy.

One last step.

JESSA!

Down it goes.

I drift in and out of consciousness on the grass. Am I dying? Is this what it feels like? A couple of times my stomach rolls violently, but I manage to keep the poison down. Letting it seep into my veins until I know I’m beyond repair.

Then suddenly, Lucas is there. Clearer than I’ve ever seen him. He kneels over me with tears in his eyes.

Why Jessa?

I don’t have the energy to move, to speak, so I just smile lucidly at him.

You have to live, they always live. You’re meant to go on and live a normal life and be happy. They always do Jessa. When you read your books, they’re happy! You’re meant to find someone else, you’re meant to...

This is the most I’ve heart Lucas talk since he died, on the road outside his house, metres away from where I lie.

Ghostly tears patter onto my stained dress as Lucas touches my cheek. My chalky cheek. My eyelids are so heavy, this is it, I can feel it.

I don’t fight the sleep as it overcomes me, I welcome it. Peace. So peaceful. My senses are slowly draining away, and as I seem to slip out of being I am left with one last ghostly whisper ringing in my lifeless ears.

I love you.

I heart you, you haunt me.

wow.





http://lisa-schroeder.blogspot.com/

.

Get a life.
'kay?

Sunday, 20 September 2009

Some things you might like to know...



Goodness I was depressed in Friday. But now I've calmed down I feel quite strangely happy. It's strange how one message on facebook can change somthing forever. A few people I know have done this thing where they write down some random things about themselves that most people don't know. I'd like to share mine with you ^_^


My favourite film is Studio Ghibli's How's Moving Castle.
My favourite book is Uglies by scott westerfeld.
I read to get away from whatever I don't want to deal with right now in the real world.
My favourite band is called Mae, and if they ever play in the UK i'll probrably cry.
I'm terrified of the dark, and zombies.
I like to write songs about the things I can't tell anyone.
I feel the most creative when I'm in bed at night.
Sometimes I tell my life like a story in my head.
I write letters to people but they never get to read them.
I like being the centre of attention.
I want to paint my room red.
I wish I could draw well enough to put the ideas in my head into pictures.
Sometimes I wish I didn't have a conscience.
I'm intimidated by people who have a lot of self esteem.
I like it when people say they're jealous of me.
If I could have any super power it would be to fly, preferably including a big pair of feathered wings.
I want to get a tattoo when I'm older.
I believe in soulmates.
Sometimes characters can mean more to me than real people.
I can't be myself around people I really like because I'm scared of what they'll think.
Even when I'm really depressed, I still force out a smile.
I lied, I remember everything I said, and I meant it.
I think I lie too often.
I feel a little fickle.
I like reading yesterday's horoscope and seeing how true it is.
It only takes one small thing to knock me back to square one.
I want Iceland back.
I don't miss the eight.
I hate being in places that don't speak English.

That's not nearly all of it but enough for now.

Goodnight,
Sasha x

Friday, 18 September 2009

It's over, face it.



Today I found out that someone I know tried to kill herself. I didn't breakdown and cry like I though I might have. I didn't feel anything, nothing. I'd even go as far as to say I didn't care. That same person told me "Sasha, I know you're in there somewhere, stop thinking Sasha, feel."
She dosen't know anything.



Today I told someone just how much I hated them. It felt so good, even though I was kicking her when she was down. I was told to be honest, so I was, and I don't regret it. She's a bitch and she should know it.

Today I found out someone was jealous of me. I was flattered, and I'm not planning to change. I've never been the best at anything, so now i've got some recognition I'm not going to tone it down.

Today I admitted I was a selfish, attention seeking bitch inside, and I was proud. From now on I'm going to be who I am.

Today I decided that a friend would be the friend and tomorrow I will tell her everything. I will tell her that my parents almost split up. I will tell her that what I seriously dream. I will tell her who I love and how much it's hurts me. I will tell her how lonely I feel. I will tell her that I hide myself in books and stories to try and fill the gap that my shrinking self esteem left. I will tell her that I cut myself because it made me feel more whole.
I will tell her everything.

It's wierd knowing that I'm so happy in a time where all around me people seem to be falling apart. It's even wierder that for some reason I couldn't care less. It's like I've lost my conscience. I know who my friends are, and who I want to be more than friends, and who I don't want to be friends with at all. I feel confident and almost whole and great. But it can only last a small amount of time.

I'm falling for someone I really shouldn't be.


Friday, 11 September 2009

9/11

Never forget.


Sunday, 6 September 2009

Soul Searching (the final part of) Part II


FINALLY! I hear you saying.Here it is guys!

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.”



“The legend of the Gamaitha says that hundreds of years ago, after the loss of his partner, one lost soul went mad from grief and started to consume the bonds between others to try to fill his aching hole in his heart, this consumption caused significant mental and physical changes in him, most of all the addiction to the minds of Soulmates. I guess only the Gamaitha themselves will ever know how much of that is truth. As protection from the growing number of these enemies in the world, the Soul Society was formed as a haven for those on the run, and a place to live on for those who had fallen victim.

The word originates from the ancient Germanic form, gamaithaz that was applied to people who were mentally ill, the original idea being that they were ‘changed’ from a normal state and ‘different’ from ordinary people.

Nowdays, that Gamaitha are a secretive race of not-quite-human creatures whose sole purpose is to seek out and harvest souls such as yourselves. They live among normal people, but generally keep to themselves. Children of the Gamaitha are trained from a young age to become hunters, even warriors of their kind. We can’t even begin to know how many of their kind there are across the world. No matter how many fall, there are always others to take their place.

“The Gamaitha have evolved to have inhuman reflexes and speed, they have the ability to move silently and stealthily, and are known for their dark appearances.

“ Now listen to me, because these words are probably the most important thing I can tell you. You must not allow anyone to find out what you are. Because if you do, one of them will be listening. The only safe place for you to talk out loud about any of these things is here, in the soul society. Do you understand?”

“If you are ‘harvested’ by a Gamaithan warrior, they won’t kill you. They will keep you locked away a rip apart your bonds, feeding on your pain and loss as you slowly fade away. When they are finished with you not even your soul will have the energy to keep in existence and trade in for a new life. You will be nothing but dust.”

Kieran and I sit, stunned into silence by our mentor’s words. Across from us he sits stiffly in his chair, his fists clenched. Shining purple hair hangs around his face which is contorted into an expression of rage.

We can both guess what happened to his Soulmate.

“I’m so sorry.” I finally manage to choke out, reaching forward as if to comfort him in some way.

A clap of thunder sounds outside and I jerk back, taken off guard. The warm and welcoming atmosphere of the room has shifted so that it’s whiteness seems cold and empty. The once blue sky outside the window has been smothered by angry black storm clouds, violent rain batters against the window pane. I turn back to my mentor but both he and his armchair are gone. Disappeared into thin air.

“Kieran…” I say softly as a second roll of thunder crashed through the clouds outside. I wait for his reassuring reply but it doesn’t come. He has disappeared just as Zain did before him, and I am completely alone.

I start to panic. The light is slowly leaching from the room, gradually plunging me into darkness.

I spring to my feet and spin around frantically, searching the seamless walls for some way escape. The chair I was just sitting on a couple of seconds ago has vanished. The sounds of the storm are getting louder. The room darker.

A sudden peal of thunder that is so loud it sounds like it’s in the room with me makes me jump and shriek. “Zain? KIERAN?” I shout out his name in panic. He’s not in my head, he’s not anywhere…



…I’m running. Rain attacks my bare arms and face. It’s so dark but the intense grief pulsing thorough me keeps me fumbling blindly through the storm.

Then, suddenly, I’m standing, dripping in a doorway. The room beyond it is lit only by a streetlight outside the window. I pick out the familiar furniture and realize where I am.

This is Kieran’s front room.

I step into the dark house. Over the rain I can hear someone crying softly. Kieran’s panicked thoughts buzz though my head.

They’re gone, gone. They’re gone. Oh God no, they’re gone…

“Kier?” I whisper, following the sound of his muffled sobs to the big red sofa against the far wall.

There’s a gap between this sofa and the wall that used to be just big enough for one of us to wriggle into. We’re fourteen now and, at six foot; Kieran is the tallest in our year at school. To fit into our old hiding place as it was would be a miracle.

At some point the gap-behind-the-sofa has been passed down to Kieran’s six year old sister, Heidi, who also happens to be a hide and seek fiend. Kieran and I have spent many afternoons searching under cushions and behind doors while she hides, giggling, in the same place every time.

He loves that kid so much. He always says that if she ever wanted a boyfriend, he’d have to go through him first. This, of course, makes Heidi giggle and pull faces at the absurd thought of being anywhere near those ‘smelly boys’.

We’re his girls, Heidi and I. I know that he’d do anything for us.

I creep towards the sofa and notice that the heavy piece of furniture has been pushed out at an odd angle.

It is here that I find him.

Kieran is curled up into a ball in the small space, tightly clutching one of his sister’s toys to his chest. His body shakes as he sobs uncontrollably.

I blink back my own tears at the shock of seeing Kieran in such a state.

I reach out to touch his arm and he flinches, cringing away from me. He looks up and meets my gaze and his eyes are full of fear. We look at each other for a few moments, listening to the pounding rain outside, until that fear is slowly replaced with recognition.

“Scarlett?” Kieran asks in a voice hoarse from crying.

I just nod my head. Suddenly his eyes are full of tears again, but I think I see a little relief through the pain. He curls back into a ball as violent sobs rack his body once more.

Kieran’s grief washes over me twice as strong as before and I allow the tears it brings to silently roll down my cheeks.

I crawl into the small space and curl up alongside him, taking his shaking body into my arms. At my touch he uncurls slightly and buries his face into my damp shoulder like a small child.

Kieran tries to say something but is interrupted by a fresh round of small sobs. I pull him closer, shushing him and stroking his sandy hair.

“It’s ok.” I whisper, “You’ll be OK” Although I have a strong feeling it all, really, isn’t.



The storm rampages outside as we lie curled together behind the sofa and Kieran’s tears slowly re-soak my t-shirt. I can’t help but cry with him. His grief is so strong it almost blocks out my own emotions, I can’t even get through to see what caused him to become such a mess.

After a while, Kieran’s sobs subside but he still makes no sound or movement. I assume that he has fallen asleep, exhausted from the earlier hysteria. I press my lips to his hair, inhaling the familiar scent. I can’t believe that the Kieran curled up in my arms is the same one that I’ve spent almost every waking moment of my time since I was four years old with. Not in all the ten years I’ve known him have I seen him in such a vulnerable state as this.

“Poor Kieran I whisper sleepily into his hair, finding myself being lulled by the consistent patter of rain on the window and Kieran’s steady breathing beside me.

My eyelids are just about to drift closed when Kieran whispers my name, bringing me back to consciousness.

“Scarlett. They’re dead. The warriors…” He mumbles into my shoulder.

“What? What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. I have been so preoccupied with the state of my Soulmate; I have barely though to prepare myself for what was to come.

He takes a deep breath before he continues and I wriggle down to look into his tear-stained face, searching for something that tells me this isn’t true.

“The Gamaitha. They’ve found out who I am. They came for me… but I… They killed the Scarlett. My Parents…” He stopped and struggles to compose himself then forces out the last words, they are barely the ghost of a whisper. “Heidi… I couldn’t protect her.”

My breath catches and it takes all of my will power not to burst into more dry sobs. We both ran out of tears a long time ago.

“We should call Zain.” Is all finally manage to say. I can’t deal with this now. I almost lost him, if Kieran had come home ten minutes earlier… I start to move but he tightens his arms around me.

“No, I just, I can’t face anyone right now.”

“But…”

“Please. You’re the only thing I have left.” He whispers, touching my cheek. “I don’t, ever, want to let you out of my sight again, because I know that losing you will hurt a thousand times more than this. And I don’t think I could live through it.”

His words stun me into silence and I let him pull me in so my cheek is resting against his shoulder. After a while I say,

“We can’t stay here.” And he knows I don’t just mean behind the sofa. The fact that his identity has been discovered means that we will have to leave everything we know behind and restart life again somewhere far away. If we stay, there is a good chance that the same fate will come to everyone close to me as to Kieran’s family today. Including Kieran.

“I know” Is all he replies and we don’t say another word. Slowly, gradually, my eyelids become heavier and heavier and I drift away in his arms.

<3

Friday, 4 September 2009

Love, love is a verb...

.... Love is a doing word.




A beautiful cover of Massive Attacks teardrop by Newton Faulkner.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ax0Rct0rDbk&feature=related

His dreads are awesome.

Thursday, 3 September 2009

Goodbye Summerland.


Today was the last day of a fantastic summer, and now we must get up at the crack of dawn to face the fact that yes, this year it's serious. I absolutely hate the British education system, which basically bases everything on exams and coursework. If we mess up now then that's it. No matter how well you've worked in class for the past year, your teachers get no say in the matter. If you don't get the marks, you're screwed- which means bring on the dreaded revision.
The only thing I have to look forward to is our creative writing piece of English coursework, and music, quickly followed by a blissful half term and a succession of sweet sixteen parties, please. I'm off the alcohol though, bad things happen with me and alcohol, and I wish everyone would shut up about it already.
I think I've figured out a lot about who I want to know, and who and what makes me happy, which unfortunately resulted in me neglecting the piles of textiles coursework i've been set over the holidays :/


Bye bye summer. See you next year. It's Autumn's turn now.
Maybe it won't be so bad.



Sequin lights, shining lights,
You tease me with your hues.
The dark creeps in, the rain begins,
Yet all I want is you.

Sequin rain, shining rain,
You tease me with your touch.
The cold sets in, ice on my skin,
I miss those sparkling hues.

And all I want is you.


P.S The top photo's all mine :)

Tuesday, 1 September 2009

Immortal Inks

Hello! Before I get started, I have an important announcement, THIS IS THE FIRST EVER POST FROM MY BEAUTIFUL NEW LAPTOP. It will go down in history as one of the most amazing events ever, I assure you. I have appropriately named him Ike, and you'll hopefully be finding out more about him (the character not the computer ;D) in the near future.

Onwards with today's post then. I feel that it is important that I alert you to the birth of a new blog, Immortal Inks. It is the Beautiful work of a friend of mine, Briony Davies, who is using it to post some of the things she is writing, much like me.
Now, if her stuff was utter crap I wouldn't be telling her to get it up on the Internet for everyone to read. I do think she does have a lot of talent and it's definitely worth getting over there to look at it.
I'll stop plugging things now when you're all getting exited for another slice of Soul Searching (Ha.) I PROMISE PROMISE PROMISE I will type some more up in the very near future, hang in there.

Sasha x