Creativenovelist's Blog

This should speak for itself. The new map – WIP

Posted by: creativenovelist on: February 17, 2012

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Sometimes My Own Generation Confuses Me

Posted by: creativenovelist on: February 17, 2012

Reblogged from Classic Confusion:

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According to Wikipedia (I only use the best resources for my blog), we are Generation Y. This roughly includes people born in the ’80s and early ’90s, if my loyal online encyclopedia is being truthful.

I realize I’m not a revolutionary by pointing out that sometimes people my age are ridiculous, but hey, it’s 2012 and all the original ideas have been used.

Read more… 687 more words

I could not agree more with this girl. Except the stuff about the videogames. Me löööves videogames, even though most old games aare so much better, there is some pretty decent stuff out there now as well.

Glow

Posted by: creativenovelist on: January 9, 2012

Inside the scarlet darkness I linger,

forever torn between death and life,

quickly I remind myself of breathing,

escaping the horror of the darkenss I live in.

 

 

I did not choose

I did not cry

I did not smile

I did not deny.

 

 

Drip, drop,

shards raining down on me,

ripping my soul,

leaving only scars.

 

 

I did not bleed

I did not fear

I did not leave

I did not scream.

 

 

Hush, I choke on my screams,

struggling, coughing,

running far away

where there is no light.

 

 

I did not speak

I did not hear

I did not stay

I did not see.

 

 

Dear, you don’t know me

smiling, hiding the truth

I cannot bear

yet even tell.

 

 

I did not think

I did not reveal

I did not carry

I did not lie.

 

 

Hold me in your arms

keep me from myself,

hide myself somewhere

where I can’t hurt myself.

Catching snowflakes – a Christmas tale

Posted by: creativenovelist on: December 14, 2011

It was a cold December night, and snow was slowly falling down on earth. Under a dimly shining streetlight a little girl stood, with her arms stretched out before her, trying to catch snowflakes in her palms.

Holly was a beloved, but poor child. Her parents had slowly started the journey to heaven, and Holly did nothing but wander around the streets at night. She had always been a dreamer, seeing the invisible and dreaming about the impossible. Reality, on the other hand, was a place she never belonged in. She looked in fact like a little angel, with her curly blond hair and her bright smile. Every time when Holly returned home at night, finding her parents sick in their beds, she sneaked into their room and crawled under their cover, snuggling in the cozy warmth. Then, every morning she would wake up early and leave the house to sell cookies on the market. Her parents had been sick for a long time, and with no other relatives and no money to take care of them, Holly managed on her own, baking cookies and selling them. Image the burden she had to bear – only 8 years old and struggling with independence.

That evening when I saw her catching snowflakes on the streets, was special. It was Christmas Eve, and Holly was eager for her parents to open their presents and see the Christmas tree she had brought from the forest nearby. She had decorated the tree with things she had found on the street or bought at the market. The star she had put on top of the tree shined as brightly as her smile when she thought about Christmas Eve in anticipation.

Holly started to walk home, greeting every person she met, and sometimes she stayed for a little chat. the old lady next door, Ariana Williams, asked her what she did alone out on the streets on Christmas Eve.
“I was catching snowflakes,” Holly answered and smiled. Ariana smiled and secretly wished she could live as easily as this magical child did.
“I see,” she replied and smiled, “have a wonderful Christmas now, and say hi to your parents from me.” Holly nodded and walked away.

Her house was tiny and old, but Holly loved it. As soon as she opened the wooden door the familiar scent of home welcomed her and she smiled happily. She took her wet shoes off and tip-toed into the living room, where everything was prepared.
The Christmas tree was standing in the corner, right next to the bookshelf and the window. Their cat, Gina, was quietly sleeping under the Christmas tree, amongst the four presents she had been able to purchase. Despite the gloriously looking Christmas tree, the living room looked shabby with its stained, grey walls and only the wooden table with no chairs in it. There was also a sofa in the corner, but it had, just like the walls, started to get mouldy due to the leaking water pipes on the ceiling. Holly took a quick look on the cat’s food in the kitchen, and then sneaked into her parents’ bedroom.

“Wake up, mommy, it’s Christmas Eve,” she whispered and climbed up the bed.
“Daddy, you too, wake up,” she said. A weak groan came from her father, but then both he and her mother sat upright and smiled at her. They looked both were pale, but as soon as they saw her daughter smiling happily at them, their faces regained some colour.
“It’s Christmas Eve, Holly. The time of the year when you can hear the angels sing at night,” her mother said and gave her daughter a hug.
“You need to come and see the living room!” Holly beamed and released herself form her mother’s hug. Her parents smiled and followed her slowly into the living room. As soon as they saw the Christmas tree and the presents, their faces lit up.
“Oh Holly!” her father said and smiled.
“This is beautiful,” her mother agreed. Holly blushed in modesty. What a wonderful child she was, taking care of her family and making everyone she met lucky to be there.

When the presents where unwrapped and Holly and her parents had eaten some of the cookies she had left from the last sale, they all sat on the floor, wrapped in a blanket and looking out of the window. Holly enjoyed being so close to her parents, but she didn’t understand how hard it was for them to be out of bed.

“I need to do something,” Holly suddenly said and left the living room. She didn’t see the exhausted looks on her parents’ faces, and neither did she hear the whispered response of her mother. Quickly, she took on her boots and her jacket and left the house.
Holly ran down the street with a bag full of her last cookies, slipping and falling more than a couple of times. The streets were empty, and the snow was still falling. You could see through the windows into the light up houses, where happy children unwrapped their presents and hugged their parents. You heard the choir singing Christmas carols through the church’s door, and dogs barking in the distance. There were no sounds of cars, and Holly enjoyed the silence. When she turned around the corner, she could see the group of people she had been looking for.

Two women and three men, dressed in dirty, old clothes were warming their hands by a fireplace. When they spotted Holly, one of the women waved.
“Holly! Merry Christmas!” she yelled and welcomed Holly with a hug when she arrived.
“Merry Christmas!” Holly said and took a couple of smaller bags out of her bags. Each of the homeless received a package and thanked her honestly. They were overwhelmed with joy – they had not received anything for Christmas for a long time, and who would not be happy if a cute little girl showed up with cookies for the poor, when she herself wasn’t in a good situation?
“Thank you for the cookies, Holly!” one of the men said when Holly went back home. She had done what she did every year at Christmas time – thought about someone else and made someone happy. That was what Christmas was about for her, to make life better for someone else. But when Holly entered her house again and walked into the living room, she found her parents laying on the floor, dead. Dead was such a strong word for her then, and she did not understand its true meaning, but she did know that she would never hear her parents speak again. She fell down on her knees, tears silently flowing down her cheeks and falling to the floor. Her life was like catching snowflakes – as she reached out her hands to someone, he or she was already gone. Holly covered their bodies with the blanket, and cried herself to sleep that night.

It was a cold December night, and snow was slowly falling down on earth. Under a dimly shining streetlight a little girl stood, with her arms stretched out before her, trying to catch snowflakes in her palms.
“Mommy, I heard you and daddy sing last night.” she whispered and glanced at the drop of water in her hand, that once had been a snowflake.

This was a Christmas tale I wrote for English class… It’s sad, I know, but I hope you like it. :)

Lots of love,

Lisa

Struggling with satisfaction

Posted by: creativenovelist on: December 12, 2011

Hi.

 

This post goes out to all writers amongst you.

Have you ever written (or started writing in this case) a book and in the middle (or at least a good way into) the manuscript, you start to think.

“Why the hell did I write this? How did I even come up with this stupid idea?”

or, a long time favourite of mine;

“What the heck have I been babbling about throughout the last three chapters? It’s all crap!”

 

It often results in re-writing. Over and over again.

My absolutely dearest manuscript (the German one) is now at 25k words… And I start hating it (again). I’ve already re-written it like 5 times, and I don’t want to do it again. But a writer has to do what a writer has to do, right? This hasn’t only happened with my German book – “The Death Rebel” has been struggling with it loads of times also. You might think I should be used to the frequent dissatisfaction by now, but I am not. I hate always nagging on my own creations, my own plot and my characters. And especially – my language. I somehow never seem to get it quite right, not even in German, which is supposed to be good since it’s my mothertongue. But no – it just doesn’t want to come out right. Ugh. I hate hate hate hate hate it!

 

You see, right now it is worse than ever. I just want to throw it all away (which is impossible, literally, because it’s in a document on my laptop, but never mind that detail) and never ever ever see it again. Let me tell you why, for each of my books.

 

1. “The Death Rebel”

Language problems. You might know that I really only write it to improve my English skills, and because of that, the plot has been left behind and the language only gets worse with each sentence. I lack variation, personal style in conversations, I lack the abilities to make it interesting or even dramatic! I am so tired of it. You see, “The Death Rebel” includes a lot of fighting scenes, and they are just boooooring. The narration is so bad, I just want to bang my head against the wall until my brain falls out or something. Ew. Gross. Back to topic, I just can’t stand it! On the other side, I know I can’t do it better (and boy, have I tried…) so I don’t bother with it and keep on writing as if I was satisfacted with it. Reality, I want to burn it all. The only things that writing has given me recently are lemons, despair, stress and a lot of sleepless nights in a period of school life where sleep deprivation is the dumbest thing that can happen to you if you want to pass the year.

 

Plot problems – filling empty days, stretching it out.

Not possible, not in my vocabulary. Don’t get me started – I am just totally incapable of writing scenes where nothing important happens… But they have to exist! So what to do…?

 

2. My German manuscript

Language problems. Unlike my problems with “The Death Rebel”, I don’t struggle with lack of variety or anything like that. Why would I, I’m a native speaker and am capable of a very good, stabile language with only minor errors that hardly occur. My problem is my language in context with the book. You see, before I re-wrote it the last time, I used an omniscient  narrator to tell the story, in a very formal, rich way used often in Fantasy books like mine. But then I changed my mind – why do it like everyone else does? Why not write it in a very modern, funny way?

Yep, that idea blew it.

It is what I use right now, and I even changed the narration from an omniscient narrator to the point-of-view and narration of my main character and protagonist, Helice. It made it a lot easier and funnier to write, but it just doesn’t seem to fit. I am more happy with it than I was when I used the more formal way of writing, and that is what surprises me, because it isn’t exactly better.

 

Then, there’s also the problem of the plot. It is just one of these worn-out, clichée Fantasy books. What can I do to make it special? My failed narration won’t do. I can’t come up with a better plot. I could make it more emotional and dramatic, but it’s not a book I want people to cry for while reading… Also, I do not want to re-write it again because (excuse my bad language) it’s a pain in the ass. Sorry. I am just so frustrated about it right now, I think I will just write nothing for the next months and see how the whole thing evolves…

 

So, now to you: Do you recognize yourself in any of these situations? What were your most frustrating periods in your writing process?

Have you ever heard someone say “In order for someone else to love you, you need to love yourself first?” Yeah, I thought so – that’s what especially young girls get to hear very often. It’s easy to that when you in fact do love yourself, but as the receiver of the ‘encouragement’ you really don’t feel like you could love yourself. So many people are unhappy with theirselves, have low self-esteem and cry theirselves to sleep each night. So many people commit suicide because of depression and because they’re not confident with theirselves.

And it’s all our fault.
Yes, it’s all our fault. If you don’t believe it – keep on reading and think about it. The modern world we live in is nothing but a fake – in the ‘developed’ countries as we call it, we have so many issues that make life a hell for many. We are not developed AT ALL. We bully, we push other people down, we are racist, we are overall arrogant, egoistic and fake. If you think like this:’Yeah but I am not that way, so why should I care?’, I can only tell you that this attitude makes everything worse. Fine, it’s good if you are nice, but the problem remains. It doesn’t just go away because you don’t want to have anything to do with it.
Society manipulates so many people today – just look at all the crap politicians promise today, and none of it ever happens or doesn’t have the effect we wanted. Look at all the commercials, telling you who to be. What happened to being individual? What happened to standing up for yourself, fighting against conformity (group pressure) and arguing when you weren’t happy with a decision made? I don’t know.
Commercials put enormous pressure on especially young girls and women. We have to be pretty, impress on boys, be ‘hot’, and obviously be what I call with a good old-fashioned German word: Einheitsbrei. Everything’s the same. Everyone is wearing the same clothes, enjoying the same things and doing the same things in their free time. Why? That is exactly what pushes down many depressed people: What other people think of you.
Seriously – I see it all the time. My best friends say often things like “I don’t want to ask, I don’t want to seem stupid. I don’t want to eat, because if I do, I’ll be the school’s next fat girl.” and it saddens me. I literally breaks my heart to see my best friends say things like that. No wonder that they’re not happy with themselves – with an environment like ours! Seriously now, it is easy for me to say, I know that. I, too used to wonder how people easily could say something like that. If you had asked my 13 year old self if I was confident with myself, or why I couldn’t be the person I wanted to, I would’ve said:’Like you’re the one to talk!’. Now I sit here, stong, steady, hoping to help some other people out that are in the situation I used to be in.
Growing stronger is a long and painful process. When a very good friend of mine finally encouraged me to be who I wanted, I was very hesitant. But I want through it, and I am now very proud of it. I started dressing the way I wanted, talking the way I wanted, I spoke up to the persons that bullied me. They saw I was changing, and they stopped, very slowly though, commenting on everything I did. I was very harsh and had some strong arguments with them, and they almost made me cry but I will not try to hide that, but they respected me. And feared me. They knew I wasn’t the weak person they had bullied anymore, I was someone else  – the person I always wanted to be. when I was growing, I still spent many nights, crying silently and tearing my pillows apart. (No kidding, I literally ripped them into pieces)
If you are still reading this and thinking that I am just writing nonsense – fine, don’t open your eyes. But you will always be confronted with it – in one way or another. Now, I want you to know something:
You are not a weak person.
You’re beautiful – in every single way. Now, here are some things you should to everyday before you go to school or work.
1. Come up with at least 3 things that are good with yourself.
2. Come up with at least three things you are good at.
3. Come up with at least three reasons why people love you.
4. Come up with one thing you truly want to be like, but think individual here. Don’t choose anything that someone else would like you to be like.
5. Do something about it. Change yourself, slowly but safely, into the person you want to become – a.k.a. make point 4 real.
6. Believe in yourself. Be confident. Stand up to yourself. Stand for your arguments. Trust in the people you love and in the people that love you. Forgive the people who hurt you. Forgive yourself for being weak once – be strong. I love you, and you’re beautiful just the way you are.
7. There is always hope. When everything has dies, hope will always be there, as long as you reach for it. If you give up, then even hope dies, so don’t ever give up. Reach on to everything you have left, even though you feel like you’ve lost everything.
Now, we’ve scratched on the next topic: Hope.
This will be a short one, I promise, because it is as simple as this: Hope is always there. No matter how bad the situation looks, even if you’re close to comitting suicide, hope will always be with you, you only have to let it in. Think about it in your darkest moments, and also think about it in your lightest. It is important to keep it close.
Finally, I talk about something completely different now, but it is unbelievable enough that it is very close connected to the other two topics. Winter.
Winter is a very dark time where we have to keep our closest loves close in order to hold on. It sounds cheesy, right? Sounded way better in my head, promise on that! But! Winter was the time I came to realise who I am just a couple of years ago. Winter is something magical, winter is forgiving. Winter is the time where I am most alike myself, 100% me. I go out into the snow (which we have loads of here) and play. Today, we got our first snow here, which is very late, it usually already snows in november. So, I was walking home from the bus stop, enjoying the cold air filling my lungs and the snow that lay on the thin branches. Smiling, I brushed a bit of it off and let it slowly melt in my fingers. Only this small gesture was magical, I smiled the entire way home, repeating it a lot of times. I even smudged my face in the snow, and it was so releasing. The looks I got didn’t touch me – why should I care? And it made me go back to my harder times where Winter was depressing, a burden to bear in hard times. But now it’s magic to me.
Find simple thing in life that you love.
Be a little crazy sometimes and smudge your face in the snow, or dance barefoot in the pooring October’s rain. And don’t ever forget about that memory. Keep it, and let it brighten up your day.
I go crazy in Winter. And I love it.
With these final words, I want to once again encourage you to be the person you want to. Go crazy. Be individual – because that’s why I love you. You’re wonderful. Don’t ever forget it – one day you will be able to look in the mirror and scream out in joy.
Lots of love,
Lisa

Fantasy Is Not Science Fiction (and vice versa)

Posted by: creativenovelist on: December 5, 2011

Fantasy Is Not Science Fiction (and vice versa).

 

You should read this.

No, I’m serious. Go, leave this blog to die and read that post! I’m not kidding.

 

Love,

Lisa

‘Haikus’ from English class

Posted by: creativenovelist on: November 26, 2011

Hello!

So, before you get to read the next part of my novel, I will now punish you with really bad ‘Haikus’ from my English class yesterday. As you’ve probably noticed by now, my self-esteem isn’t really high concerning my writing… The thing is, I don’t think it’ll change. I know I can’t write well.

Okay, moving on…  I know that Haikus have thousands of rules to be followed, but our English teacher said that, for now, we only have to follow the rule regarding the syllables in each line, which is 5-7-5. I still hope you enjoy these… Kind of. Otherwise, I wish you a lovely day!

 

 

The fullmoon’s bright light,
the emptiness of darkness,
reveals her bloody corpse.

 

 

His eternal love,
is what makes me sleep at night,
but yet I can’t breathe.

 

 

Your eyes are sparkling,
invincibly red and gold,
like the desert’s sand.

 

 

Just like a serpent,
your lies crawl under my skin,
poisoning my blood.

 

 

Calling of darkness,
the dead scream of happiness,
my soul’s free tonight.

 

 

I wish on a star,
shining in the dark night sky,
so distant yet near.

 

 

Forever alone,
but still you are here with me,
making me feel cold.

 

 

Always by your side,
let us fight until the end,
and make our loss count.

 

 

Our crossed, worn-out swords,
fight forever in this war,
we still cannot win.

Love,

Lisa

Moving on…

Posted by: creativenovelist on: November 20, 2011

Okay. Hi.

Hope you’re doing great. I’m not. NaNoWriMo isn’t exactly going well so… I’m screwed. Also, I don’t think I’ll be working much on my novel the following weeks. I am participating in a novella competition for the local newspaper, so I will focus on that instead because it needs to be in on the 25th of January… And I’m planning to make it at least 9k words long. Jep. I know it’s a lot. In the meantime, I’ll release you from the awful poems I’ve posted recently and present you the next part of my novel :) Oh, and right, if you’re Swedish and like to write, be sure to check out the competition I talked about. You can find it here: http://www.bt.se/kulturnoje/skriv-en-novell-och-vinn-5000%283029247%29.gm ! Please notice that you have to go to High School or be 16-20 years old. Yes, I know I’m 15, but I go to High School, so I should be able to participate. At least I hope so. So, without any further adue, enjoy my novel! :>

 

 

Trish stayed at my house for the night. He had promised me to talk about leaving the next day, but he was tired and he just wanted to go to bed. He slept on the couch in my room. Even though we had fought a little that evening, we agreed on at least one thing: There was no way that we were going to school the next morning. All Angels would know about everything by then: Tiffany being Trish’s Hunter, me having made the Promise for Trish, Tiffany having passed out and they would all assume that Trish and I would leave. And they were right, if I could talk Trish into leaving. Plus, we’d only get about four hours of sleep, and that was rather uncomfortable. There was a thunderstorm that night, and it rained very heavily. Trish complained about the weather, but I was lucky because I fell asleep just after a couple of minutes.
The next morning I woke up to see that Trish had left the couch. I took a shower, dressed, put some make-up on and went downstairs to the kitchen. It was good to have a small house for myself, that was the good thing about being orphaned and emancipated. Well, I wasn’t really orphaned – both of my parents were Angels, so I didn’t really consider them my parents anymore. But officially I was orphaned and emancipated. Trish stood by the fridge and was obviously looking for something to eat.
“Morning. Don’t bother looking for food, there’s nothing in the fridge. I haven’t been shopping yet.”, I said and smiled.
“Good Morning. Did you sleep well?”, he asked and turned around.
“Yes, I did, thank you. You didn’t because of the weather, right?”, I grinned. He smiled and nodded, and I noticed the dark rings under his eyes.
“Did you sleep at all?”, I asked concerned.
“Nah, not much at least. Hey, let’s go out for breakfast, I’m hungry.”, he said.
“Yeah, me too.”, I replied. And off we were, wandering through the park, on the way to a place to eat. The town was very small after all, but there were quite some things one could do. We had a mall, a grocery store, some smaller foreign food shops, a lot of restaurants and over 7 Starbucks. Trust me, Starbucks is everywhere. We also had a gym, High School, fostercare and some other things hardly worth mentioning.
“Starbucks at the mall?”, Trish asked and broke the silence.
“You got it, genius.”, I replied. We reached the mall after a couple of minutes and went into Starbucks. It was almost empty – most people were at work or school. I bought hot chocolate and a muffin for me and coffee and a sandwich for Trish. We sat down at a table near the window, all the way in a hidden corner, where no one could see us except for people standing outside of the window, but naturally, no one was there. I took a sip from my hot chocolate and warmed my hands on the hot cup.
“So, where are you going?”, I asked Trish curiously, even though I knew he was going to protest.
“I’m staying.”, he insisted. I rolled my eyes. Didn’t he know it wouldn’t ever be safe here for him anymore? I didn’t want him to leave, either, but he had to be safe!
“Seriously Trish, you know you’re never going to be safe here anymore. Tiffany is probably taking out her rage on innocent humans or something.”, I said. Trish laughed.
“Hey, that’s nothing to laugh about! I was dead serious!”, I added, but even I had a big grin on my face.
“You know, you might be right. Maybe she’s tearing down houses now or something.” We both burst out in laughter, and it took some time until we both had caught our breath.
“Trish. You’re leaving, I’m telling you. And wherever you decide to go, count on it – I’m coming with you. No arguments, please. Just do me a favor and go somewhere safe with me.”, I begged him, trying to make him understand how much he needed this safety now. He shook his head and took another bite from his sandwich.
“No way, you’re staying here. You are safe here, your Hunter isn’t near and no Angel here is allowed to harm you.”, he protested and continued to shake his head. He didn’t see it, did he? I had a hard time convincing him, but I knew even before that I would have. But I wasn’t giving up until he finally would agree leaving with me.
“Nah, I wouldn’t even think about it. Trish, you aren’t safe here anymore, but safer somewhere else. I am safe nowhere, but I can make it safer for you wherever you go.”
“Well, you do have a point there, but no matter how good your points are, Jade, I still don’t want you to come, a.k.a. being in danger. Remember when you said you don’t want to loose me? I don’t want to loose you either, Jade. You’re my best friend, and we’ve been through lots together. I have set you through enough trouble already. I just don’t want you to look after me all the time. I’m trying to get along by myself, you know. I really appreciate it, though, but I don’t want to put you into extra danger.” Wow, what a long thing to say, but it really touched me. It was so sweet of him to protect me like that, but no Fallen has full protection, there’s always something that puts you in danger. It wouldn’t bother me to have Tiffany behind me, as well.
“Wow, thank you, that really touches me,” I smiled, “and I know you care for me. But I care for you too. Like you said, we’ve been through a lot together, a heck of a lot actually, and we’ll end this together, too. Trish, I am persistent, you know I won’t give up. Besides, we both could need a break. We Fallen are never safe, how many times do i have to say this to finally convince you? Please Trish, do it for your own safety. You need to take care of yourself, you need to make decisions for yourself, not thinking about what I do according to it. I’ll follow along because I trust you, Trish. There is no person on earth that I trust more, and I know you’ll do the right thing. Please.”, I pleaded him with wannabe-puppy-eyes. Trish sighed and closed his eyes, and I knew his brain was working overtime right now.
“Okay, here’s the deal, genius. I’ll go meet that creepy guy at the Lost Tree today. Then I’ll know more about my further actions, and you have some extra time to decide whether you’ll leave or stay. I suggest the first option, just by the way. Fallen are known for leaving after being attacked by their Hunter.”, I said and sighed. We had been arguing for such a long time, so why did he still want to stay? Maybe he wasn’t such a genius after all.
“They are leaving into the Spirit World, Jade, because most of them DIE through their Hunter attacks!”, he said angrily. I gritted my teeth.
“Fine. Just decide after I’ve met this creepy guy, okay?”, I mumbled and sighed again. He nodded, and then we ate our meals in complete silence.
Trish and  I didn’t go to school that day. I had completely forgotten the meeting I was supposed to hold the day before, so I text messaged all members and said I’m sorry but I was very busy and didn’t even have the time to cancel the meeting. They all forgave me and I was happy again, at least partly. Otherwise I knew that all Angels in town would make a hell out of our lives – like humans would say. But hell was in fact only good for us, if you looked at it that way, and I was hoping to get there later. To be more precisely, I wanted actually to talk with the Devil himself about entering the portal to heaven. I don’t know how this portal works, but not everyone can use it. But that only use, otherwise we’d be getting loads of problems in Hell. I’ve read books, studied in the library of the Temple of the Fallen for almost a year, ever since I fell and decided to do something. I wasn’t sure whether I liked it or not, but there was a prophecy, called ‘The Awakening of the Fallen Warrior’. In this prophecy, a warrior was mentioned, that would be able to read the book of forbidden magic, but it didn’t say anything about how you’re supposed to find this warrior. That’s what I hated with prophecies – they never told you how you were supposed to do or find something, but they described its characteristics deep into detail. I know it sounds like something right out of a book, prophecies, magic and all that stuff, very much like a cliché. But what was there to do about it? Also, I had found out a lot about the Silent War. When a normal Fallen is given permission from the Devil to enter Heaven and actually enters it, it will begin. We needed to straighten this conflict out soon, and I needed people that shared the same opinions as I did and were actually willing to help me. Or the world would soon be in the hands of God again, and humanity would run around like slaves, poor and empty. Okay, fighting for peace sounds so senseless, but in this case it couldn’t have been more true. We had to take a stand against the forces of Heaven, and bring an end to this. When the Silent War would begin, the Creation of Angels is stopped temporarily, until the war is over. Also, no Angels can fall while the war lasts, which comes from an ancient spell cast over the world. That’s all the information I had to work with. I would’ve found more, but I got caught in the restricted section and was thrown out and banned for a couple of months. Lovely.
The day went by, and at half past four I said goodbye to Trish. I promised him that I’d call him as soon as I knew the answer and was free to go. Then I went to the bus stop and took the bus to the Central Park. It was the biggest park in town, but it was always kind of empty. The Lost Tree was located there, a huge, old oak in the middle of the park. I headed straight towards it, because I had somehow managed to be fifteen minutes late. I saw Drake waiting impatiently and tapping his foot.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.”, I said, almost out of breath and shook Drake’s hand.
“Good afternoon, miss Lenoire. I have been waiting for you.”, he said. I gasped – had he just called me Miss Lenoire?
“How did you know my last name? I didn’t tell you the last time.”, I asked friendly, trying to hide my obvious astonishment.
“I have been researching, Miss Lenoire. I had to do loads of research, actually, because we had to check your request into every possible detail. You see, it is not considered normal, that a Fallen seeks a talk with the Devil himself. We had to be very careful regarding our answer.”, he said monotone. He seemed to be bored and emotionless again, just like he had been the last time I’d met him.
“Well, I wouldn’t have Fallen if I planned something against the Devil. I just want a talk, nothing more I could tell you why, but that would be a waste of time. And time is precious, as you may know.”, I urged impatiently. We weren’t there to argue, where we?
“Yes, we know that very well. Therefore we have decided-” I held my breath and hoped for a yes. “to grant your request of a speech with the Devil. He will be welcoming you in Hell this evening already. We are allowed to open the passage at 6 pm, so be sure to be here in time.”, he said, putting extra pressure on the last two words and smiled slightly. I smiled back, because it was the natural thing to do, even though I completely didn’t feel like smiling at that idiot. He wasn’t particularly nice to be, and obviously not even trying, and it really had started to bother me. But still i was glad that they granted my request and bowed slightly in respect.
“Thank you.”, I beamed. I waved and walked off to the nearest bench. 6 pm! I didn’t have much time left, so I fished my phone out of my pocket and dialed Trish’s number.
“Yo Jade, how did it go?”, I heard his muffled voice through the phone.
“I’ll be going to hell tonight. To be more exact, I’ll be going there in ten minutes. So, I suppose I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”, I asked without thinking about what I said.
“School? Did you forget, school is madness right now. Don’t you remember our little accident with Tiffany yesterday?”
“Ah, sorry. Then, Starbucks at the mall at 9 am?”, I asked.
“Sounds better. Take care Jade, and don’t you dare to leave out details when you tell me about it tomorrow. Please, don’t mess with the Devil. He might be on our side, but still, he’s very powerful.”, I could her him grin, but I also heard the he was afraid.
“Don’t be afraid, I’ll be back tomorrow, Trish. And thanks for the advice. Well then, tke care you too, I’ll see ya tomorrow.”, I said and smiled.
“Bye, Jade.”, he said and I shut my phone, shoved it back into my pocket and took a deep breath. Finally, the time had come, I was going to Hell.
When I came to the Lost Tree later, I first noticed that there was a dark purple shield surrounding it, making up an illusion of just the tree standing there. As I stepped inside, I was overwhelmed by the strong aura that embraced me – deep, black, powerful and mighty. It almost pushed me down to my knees and made me cough. Then Drake turned around and faced me, a indefinite glare in his eyes.
“So you know what awaits you. The strength needed to open the Gate almost killed me the first time I did it.”, he said, still concentrating on something even more powerful that I felt in the air.
“The first time you did this? The Gate hasn’t been opened for almost 500 years, and you told me yesterday that you are 17.”, I said, a bit confused.
“I am an Immortal, claiming to be 17. It’s as easy as that, Miss Lenoire. Now, if you would reveal your wings and join me in the spell, please.”, he replied. I did as he commanded, but managed to quickly roll my eyes when he wasn’t looking. Damn, he was annoying me! When I stepped beside him, he took my hand and the cozy warmth of his hand made me blush. I mentally shook myself and got, hopefully, rid of the blush before he noticed.
“Now, you speak the Fallen Oath again, concentrating on how we are linked right now, and then you add a couple of lines at the end. I suppose you know these lines?” I nodded. I’d stumbled across these words in the library a lot of times, and learned them by heart. Then I closed my eyes and cut off everything unimportant around me, and concentrated on my task. When I felt Drake squeeze my hand, I knew it was the time to start. Then I spoke with more safety than I’ve ever felt in my life, the most powerful words that I’d even say in my life.
 “I swear, that even close to death, I will stay strong,
through torture, pain and suffering, I will always support the truth,
ignore the lies and fight for the right.
Fallen is what I am, and the scars they once cut deep in my flesh,
still burn like the Black Fire on my sore back. But even in these dark moments,
I found sanctuary in my own decision, and those wings, those beautiful wings,
show who I really am, what I really stand for. Like a raven I walk this earth,
seeking peace, escaping death. And by my existence I swear,
that I fell for the right thing to do,
that I fell to bring peace and love,
that I fell t protect my allies,
and to give this world another chance.”
I gasped when strength filled me. I had never felt like this before, it was so much that I though I couldn’t bear so much strength inside me. I took  deep breath, trying to remember the last lines. I felt Drake squeeze my hand again, and spoke the last lines.
 “I speak now in honesty, to the Lost Guardian, protecting the Gate.
I know the holy halls of Hell must never be soaked with insecurity, weakness or shame.
Never shall those halls be torn down, or entered by an enemy.
I swear that I bring neither shame or insecurity, nor am I cooperating with an enemy.
I know that great power awaits me, and that only the strongest will pass through.
Now I stand before you without fear, but the will to pass this Gate.”
Drake let go of my hand and took a step backwards. With a cracking sound, the Lost Tree burst into half, and revealed a hole, precisely big enough for me to pass through. I turned around and looked at Drake. He took something out of his pocket and handed it to me, it was a golden key. The he smiled, for real this time, not one of those cold, fake smiles.
“I know you can change things, I felt it when we were linked. I wish you good luck, Jade.”, he said. I nodded, not knowing how to react to the fact that he had called me Jade.
“Thank you. Well… I’ll be off then…”, I replied. What an awkward thing to say!
“Take care of yourself. The passage is dangerous, and I would like to see you again. Alive, if possible.”, he said, flew off and broke the illusion. I snorted. Yeah, that would definitely encourage me. ‘Alive, if possible.’ Seriously, did he think that would help? Then I turned around and stepped through the hole. And for the first time in my whole life, I knew I was on my own.

Beloved, goodbye

Posted by: creativenovelist on: November 16, 2011

A raven’s taunting cry,
snow slowly falling down.
Beloved ones, hidden in black,
gathered where hope faded away.

Last words of goodbye, silent sobs,
depression lingers like a big grey cloud,
only waiting to release something,
something that could ease the pain,
of the loss of a beloved soul.

 

 

I have grown to love my English lessons more and more – we get the opportunity to write every time,

which finally gives me another reason to write.

 

Love,

Lisa

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