More words exploding out of me. I'm loving this. :)
I tried so hard to make you see.
Why couldn't you have thought of me?
We used to laugh and smile, but then,
I got buried in the sand.
Remember how it was back when,
We used to laugh and smile, but then,
We drifted apart like weeds in the sea.
Why can't you just remember me?
I lost you, lost you, long ago,
Buried down under the snow.
Asleep like bears in hibernation,
Will you come back and take your place and,
We can dance away again.
Forget this awful, lonesome trend.
Pull me into you arms, and then,
Show me you think of me please, man.
10 July, 2012
04 July, 2012
I Got Inspired.
I finally found my words. I found my inspiration. It's been way too long, and I've been trying to find it again.
So earlier, I had to find a pen because these words were threatening to spew out of me everywhere if I didn't. This is rough, but it's a beginning. So here's what I wrote.
You didn't even fight for me.
There were some things I really would've liked to hear you say.
But it was easy --
Oh, so easy...
For you to let me go.
For you to let me go.
Did you ever even have it in you?
Did you ever have the drive?
I feel like you were just pretending,
When you said your heart was mine.
You used to say you loved me.
Why did that have to stop?
You forgot all about me.
Left me behind.
In the dust.
You couldn't even look me in the eyes when we fucked.
But you won't find me up all night.
No.
You won't.
You won't.
I'm moving on. I've made up my mind.
You're not worth my precious time.
I have bigger, better things to do,
Baby, than waste myself on you.
I could've shown you so, so much.
I hope you know I really tried.
But I'm not wasting any more time,
Waiting for you to smile.
It's my time to shine.
05 February, 2012
Month of Harve, Day 16 (Night)
I was right. Someone had been calling out my name. It was Ser Deston, Lord Guinn's calling man. I let myself down from the tree and went to him, knowing that there would only be one reason for Deston to come looking for me. I took my time making my way through the garden to him.
"Ah, there you are, miss Mihlen. I've been looking high and low for you." I doubt the man has a care for anything in his brain, except pleasing the Lord. Maybe he should just offer himself on a silver platter, or try for the position of concubine. He might just pull it off.
"Sorry, I was daydreaming." I came up with a story that would sound good to him. It's rather frowned upon for the mistresses to be climbing trees. Although it probably wouldn't have mattered if I had told him I was off gallivanting with wizards and slaying dragons.
"Ah, yes yes. Come my dear. The Lord has want of you." He turned and strode off, me in step behind him. I followed Deston through the house the fifteen of us share. There are special rooms designed for Lord Guinn's liking located at the front of the house. You never know which one he'll feel the desire to use. It was the luxury room, filled to the brim with the finest silk straight from the island of Kree. The carpet is thick, the color of wine. And the dressings on the bed are made of violet silk. The bed frame itself is carved of the rare blue-colored wood from Vaelle.
Deston held open the door for me, announcing my arrival. "Lordship, your Mihlen has arrived." I walked in, and the door shut behind me.
I suppose I had been expecting the usual. Lord Guinn is fairly predictable, especially depending upon which room he chooses. Usually the luxury room means that he wants to be more gentle and chivalrous. But when that door shut behind me and I looked in his eyes, I was terrified. He was sitting at a small table across the room. His broad shoulders were stiff, and his eyes seemed like they would catch fire with fury.
I froze. I have never seen him like that in the four years I've served as concubine. When I was little, working in the manor kitchen, there was one time I saw him angry. The chef had cooked up lamb to serve to the ambassador from Ruiz, who was apparently vegetarian. Lord Guinn had stormed into the kitchen in a fury, yelling and cursing the chef, who had consequently resigned the next day. And even then, he was not as angry as he was now. The difference was like hot and cold. Years ago, he had been an over-boiling kettle. Now, he was calculated and smooth.
"Come here." I did what he said. I feared what would happen if I didn't. I'm sure I showed that in my demeanor, for his eye glinted at me like I was weak prey.
"Something is different about you." I stood before him, tense with worry. "I felt it last night. It woke me from my sleep." He sat in the chair, his stance seemingly casual. One elbow was on the arm of the chair, and he leaned to the side, the opposite leg extended. "I couldn't get back to sleep once I realized what it was. Something in our bond has changed. I can feel it crumbling even now."
I stared at him, bewildered. It is true, I do feel different. Somehow, I am suddenly aware of other people's emotions. I'm even more aware of my own. Over the last day, since I had the dream, I've felt more than ever in my life.
His eyes lost some of their cold glint, it seemed. I was still wary, for I could see the anger he held in his body. I knew that he was thinking that his property had been damaged, or tampered with. "Now, Mihlen," his voice was softer, "I just want to know what happened. I can see that you are conflicted. I can feel it." He stood, towering above me. Over the last few years, I have learned to be comfortable around him. When I was sixteen, and just barely taken into the harem, I remember being terrified of his huge proportions. Any girl would be.
I stood my ground, not meeting his eye. I wasn't sure if I should tell him about the dream. What would he say? How would I sound if I told him I dreamed of a world of fire and a girl who resembled me? Or that an ethereal woman had come to me, telling me to leave this place?
He was calculating me, and I could feel it in my bones. After a moment he spoke again, his voice quiet, the steel gone. "When I bought you, I knew that you were different. All anyone has to do is look at those strange amber eyes of yours. You were so much more valuable because of those eyes. Babies are valuable as it is because we can train them from birth to be what we want them to be... But those eyes made you ten times the price of any normal infant."
Lord Guinn took me by my shoulders and sat me down. He took the seat across the table from me. I didn't know what to think of this strange show of emotion from him. He was always stoic. The last thing you expected was for him to be sentimental. It almost seemed that the more emotion I felt, the more he reacted.
"The slaver I bought you from told me she had found you among rubble, laying next to the dead body of your mother. It appeared as though she had given birth to you in the middle of the raid. She said your mother had likely died while giving birth to you without aid." He paused, looking at me. Was it pity I saw in his eyes? "Your father... Was killed by the slavers. They took all of the children and women and killed the men of the village."
As he spoke, I felt my mouth open slightly. Of course I have wondered over the years about my past, and where I came from. But I had learned very early on not to question it. There would be no answers. I felt completely shocked. I looked down at my hands laying in my lap. They were shaking. A million questions were running through my mind. "Why are you telling me this, Ser?"
It felt as though I had broken through thin ice and fallen into the glacial water below. His eyes grew hard again, and he seemed to gather himself. "No matter. I have to deal with this problem. I will break the binds that now connect us. It must be so for me to form a new and stronger bond."
I dug my fingers into my skirts. I could not allow this to happen. The feeling of urgency in my chest was so strong, there was no way to ignore it. I played my only available card. "Ser, please. You don't understand." I was afraid I had wrecked my chance of reasoning with him by asking that stupid question. "I was dreaming, Ser."
This got the attention I wanted. "Dreaming? Slaves don't dream. Property doesn't dream." He was perplexed. "And... What were you dreaming, then?"
"I... The world was all afire." I stopped then, putting a mask of fear on my face. "Everyone was burning. I searched and searched, and finally found a strange stone building. The only entrance was through a mirror. And in the mirror, I saw a girl who looked strangely like me."
I tried to gauge his reaction. He was looking at the carpet, lost in thought. I took this moment of vulnerability to act. "Ser, you were so honest with me just a few moments ago. I want to make sure that I can be honest with you, Ser. I'm afraid to tell you what came next in my dream."
Lord Guinn raised his head and stared at me with his blue eyes. The look on my face must have convinced him, because he nodded and gestured me on with my tale.
"Ser... In my dream, a beautiful woman came to me and told me something. She knew my name. The woman told me that I must come to her. She said it was urgent." I finished, and looked at the Lord sitting across from me. He didn't say anything, just looked at me. "Ser, I did not ask for this. I know not what this woman wants of me, or even where she wants me to go. I just feel... Different, Ser." I looked down at the ground, saying nothing.
"What did the woman look like?"
I closed my eyes, remembering her. "She had long silvery hair. She was tall, and she seemed to glow. Her voice was completely enchanting. Although she seemed very wise, she was ageless. Her body was unbent by the weight of so many years. Her hands were softer than the silk in this room."
We sat in silence for a time. The sky outside the window was full of stars when Lord Guinn finally shifted and stood. He paced along the room, his strides long and slow, hands behind his back. "Mihlen, if any of the other girls told me this, I would tell them they needed to stop reading so many fairy tales. But the price I paid for you was far more than that of ordinary girls. I do not believe you are like anyone else alive. There is something about you. The only time a slave bond has been broken like this is if someone on the outside of that bond damages it. The slave does not have the ability to do so.
"Before my grandfather died, he told me that he had met a God, once. He said that Shiv, the God of change came to him in a dream, warning him of a shift of balance to come. Shiv told him to prepare, for something foul was happening in the heavens. It's no secret that there are things walking this earth that should not be in existence. The numbers have been growing slowly over the last thirty years. More and more, we hear stories of demons attacking travelers and even patrols.
"I may question what a girl who just barely passed two decades can do to help the situation. But I feel for some reason that the right thing to do is help you. If the Gods need you for their cause, so be it." He stopped his pacing and turned to look down at me. I thought I saw a glint pass through his eyes, but it may have been the flickering of a candle. "You should go get some sleep. We will be better suited to finding a solution to your dream after we've had some rest."
The Lord took my hand and led me to the door, which he opened for me. Outside, Deston was dozing in a chair. He snorted himself awake at the squeak of the door hinges and bolted to a standing position. "Ser."
"Take Mihlen to bed, Deston." He began walking away. But after a few steps, he turned. "As an afterthought... Mihlen, tell me if what we talked about happens again." He strode away, leaving Deston to take me away.
"Ah, yes, miss. Let us get you to sleep." Deston continued babbling on as we made our way to the sleeping quarters. I am writing now, before I go to sleep and lose the freshness of the memory. I wait for what tomorrow has in store for me.
"Ah, there you are, miss Mihlen. I've been looking high and low for you." I doubt the man has a care for anything in his brain, except pleasing the Lord. Maybe he should just offer himself on a silver platter, or try for the position of concubine. He might just pull it off.
"Sorry, I was daydreaming." I came up with a story that would sound good to him. It's rather frowned upon for the mistresses to be climbing trees. Although it probably wouldn't have mattered if I had told him I was off gallivanting with wizards and slaying dragons.
"Ah, yes yes. Come my dear. The Lord has want of you." He turned and strode off, me in step behind him. I followed Deston through the house the fifteen of us share. There are special rooms designed for Lord Guinn's liking located at the front of the house. You never know which one he'll feel the desire to use. It was the luxury room, filled to the brim with the finest silk straight from the island of Kree. The carpet is thick, the color of wine. And the dressings on the bed are made of violet silk. The bed frame itself is carved of the rare blue-colored wood from Vaelle.
Deston held open the door for me, announcing my arrival. "Lordship, your Mihlen has arrived." I walked in, and the door shut behind me.
I suppose I had been expecting the usual. Lord Guinn is fairly predictable, especially depending upon which room he chooses. Usually the luxury room means that he wants to be more gentle and chivalrous. But when that door shut behind me and I looked in his eyes, I was terrified. He was sitting at a small table across the room. His broad shoulders were stiff, and his eyes seemed like they would catch fire with fury.
I froze. I have never seen him like that in the four years I've served as concubine. When I was little, working in the manor kitchen, there was one time I saw him angry. The chef had cooked up lamb to serve to the ambassador from Ruiz, who was apparently vegetarian. Lord Guinn had stormed into the kitchen in a fury, yelling and cursing the chef, who had consequently resigned the next day. And even then, he was not as angry as he was now. The difference was like hot and cold. Years ago, he had been an over-boiling kettle. Now, he was calculated and smooth.
"Come here." I did what he said. I feared what would happen if I didn't. I'm sure I showed that in my demeanor, for his eye glinted at me like I was weak prey.
"Something is different about you." I stood before him, tense with worry. "I felt it last night. It woke me from my sleep." He sat in the chair, his stance seemingly casual. One elbow was on the arm of the chair, and he leaned to the side, the opposite leg extended. "I couldn't get back to sleep once I realized what it was. Something in our bond has changed. I can feel it crumbling even now."
I stared at him, bewildered. It is true, I do feel different. Somehow, I am suddenly aware of other people's emotions. I'm even more aware of my own. Over the last day, since I had the dream, I've felt more than ever in my life.
His eyes lost some of their cold glint, it seemed. I was still wary, for I could see the anger he held in his body. I knew that he was thinking that his property had been damaged, or tampered with. "Now, Mihlen," his voice was softer, "I just want to know what happened. I can see that you are conflicted. I can feel it." He stood, towering above me. Over the last few years, I have learned to be comfortable around him. When I was sixteen, and just barely taken into the harem, I remember being terrified of his huge proportions. Any girl would be.
I stood my ground, not meeting his eye. I wasn't sure if I should tell him about the dream. What would he say? How would I sound if I told him I dreamed of a world of fire and a girl who resembled me? Or that an ethereal woman had come to me, telling me to leave this place?
He was calculating me, and I could feel it in my bones. After a moment he spoke again, his voice quiet, the steel gone. "When I bought you, I knew that you were different. All anyone has to do is look at those strange amber eyes of yours. You were so much more valuable because of those eyes. Babies are valuable as it is because we can train them from birth to be what we want them to be... But those eyes made you ten times the price of any normal infant."
Lord Guinn took me by my shoulders and sat me down. He took the seat across the table from me. I didn't know what to think of this strange show of emotion from him. He was always stoic. The last thing you expected was for him to be sentimental. It almost seemed that the more emotion I felt, the more he reacted.
"The slaver I bought you from told me she had found you among rubble, laying next to the dead body of your mother. It appeared as though she had given birth to you in the middle of the raid. She said your mother had likely died while giving birth to you without aid." He paused, looking at me. Was it pity I saw in his eyes? "Your father... Was killed by the slavers. They took all of the children and women and killed the men of the village."
As he spoke, I felt my mouth open slightly. Of course I have wondered over the years about my past, and where I came from. But I had learned very early on not to question it. There would be no answers. I felt completely shocked. I looked down at my hands laying in my lap. They were shaking. A million questions were running through my mind. "Why are you telling me this, Ser?"
It felt as though I had broken through thin ice and fallen into the glacial water below. His eyes grew hard again, and he seemed to gather himself. "No matter. I have to deal with this problem. I will break the binds that now connect us. It must be so for me to form a new and stronger bond."
I dug my fingers into my skirts. I could not allow this to happen. The feeling of urgency in my chest was so strong, there was no way to ignore it. I played my only available card. "Ser, please. You don't understand." I was afraid I had wrecked my chance of reasoning with him by asking that stupid question. "I was dreaming, Ser."
This got the attention I wanted. "Dreaming? Slaves don't dream. Property doesn't dream." He was perplexed. "And... What were you dreaming, then?"
"I... The world was all afire." I stopped then, putting a mask of fear on my face. "Everyone was burning. I searched and searched, and finally found a strange stone building. The only entrance was through a mirror. And in the mirror, I saw a girl who looked strangely like me."
I tried to gauge his reaction. He was looking at the carpet, lost in thought. I took this moment of vulnerability to act. "Ser, you were so honest with me just a few moments ago. I want to make sure that I can be honest with you, Ser. I'm afraid to tell you what came next in my dream."
Lord Guinn raised his head and stared at me with his blue eyes. The look on my face must have convinced him, because he nodded and gestured me on with my tale.
"Ser... In my dream, a beautiful woman came to me and told me something. She knew my name. The woman told me that I must come to her. She said it was urgent." I finished, and looked at the Lord sitting across from me. He didn't say anything, just looked at me. "Ser, I did not ask for this. I know not what this woman wants of me, or even where she wants me to go. I just feel... Different, Ser." I looked down at the ground, saying nothing.
"What did the woman look like?"
I closed my eyes, remembering her. "She had long silvery hair. She was tall, and she seemed to glow. Her voice was completely enchanting. Although she seemed very wise, she was ageless. Her body was unbent by the weight of so many years. Her hands were softer than the silk in this room."
We sat in silence for a time. The sky outside the window was full of stars when Lord Guinn finally shifted and stood. He paced along the room, his strides long and slow, hands behind his back. "Mihlen, if any of the other girls told me this, I would tell them they needed to stop reading so many fairy tales. But the price I paid for you was far more than that of ordinary girls. I do not believe you are like anyone else alive. There is something about you. The only time a slave bond has been broken like this is if someone on the outside of that bond damages it. The slave does not have the ability to do so.
"Before my grandfather died, he told me that he had met a God, once. He said that Shiv, the God of change came to him in a dream, warning him of a shift of balance to come. Shiv told him to prepare, for something foul was happening in the heavens. It's no secret that there are things walking this earth that should not be in existence. The numbers have been growing slowly over the last thirty years. More and more, we hear stories of demons attacking travelers and even patrols.
"I may question what a girl who just barely passed two decades can do to help the situation. But I feel for some reason that the right thing to do is help you. If the Gods need you for their cause, so be it." He stopped his pacing and turned to look down at me. I thought I saw a glint pass through his eyes, but it may have been the flickering of a candle. "You should go get some sleep. We will be better suited to finding a solution to your dream after we've had some rest."
The Lord took my hand and led me to the door, which he opened for me. Outside, Deston was dozing in a chair. He snorted himself awake at the squeak of the door hinges and bolted to a standing position. "Ser."
"Take Mihlen to bed, Deston." He began walking away. But after a few steps, he turned. "As an afterthought... Mihlen, tell me if what we talked about happens again." He strode away, leaving Deston to take me away.
"Ah, yes, miss. Let us get you to sleep." Deston continued babbling on as we made our way to the sleeping quarters. I am writing now, before I go to sleep and lose the freshness of the memory. I wait for what tomorrow has in store for me.
29 January, 2012
Month of Harve, Day 16
I woke in the early hours of the morning with a start. The room was cold and my skin was clammy with sweat. The dream I'd been having was beyond normal. I had been dreaming that the world was on fire. The land, the sea, and even the sky were all in flames. I could see the forms of people writhing in agony, their bodies contorted by pain. There was a hazy voice trying to speak to me. I couldn't hear it, because the sound of the flames ripping apart the earth was too loud.
In the dream, I traveled across the earth, searching for anything, anyone, who could possibly be alive in all of this. It seemed there was no one. But finally, I came to a field. The ground was scorched and scarred. In the center of the field was a huge building. It was ancient looking, and ominous. The walls looked like enormous stone slabs, impossible for mere humans to transport. There were no windows. The only entrance or exit into the place seemed to be a huge black door. As I carefully made my way forward, alert for any disturbance to the air, I realized that there was no handle. And as I got closer still, I saw that this wasn't a door at all. It was what looked like a mirror. The glass was black. Small distortions dappled across the surface, unknown shapes that could have been anything.
When I got close enough that I could have reached out an touched it, I saw myself reflected in the mirror. Only, it wasn't really me. She seemed more to be the opposite of me than anything else. The girl looked like me, but her clothing was that of a shrine maiden, and her skin much paler than mine. Her hands were perfectly manicured, like mine, but they seemed to hold much less weight. Her face was so much more innocent, her amber eyes full of light and happiness. If it wasn't for the darkness of the place, I'm sure she would have been glowing.
I stood there studying her for a time, trying to glean a hint of who this girl was. Suddenly, her eyes came to life and she took notice of me standing there. She moved slowly at first, as if shaking off a deep sleep. As soon as she was fully aware, her face creased in despair. Her hand flew up, reaching for me. I thought that it would actually come out of the strange mirror, but it did not. Her mouth started moving, trying to speak to me. I could not hear her, but I knew that she was trying to warn me of some grave danger. After a few seconds, her body snapped straight, terror in her eyes. Some dark substance was winding its way around her, like dark ribbons meant to keep her captive. It dragged her away from me, and all I could do was watch helplessly. I was afraid that if I reached out to try and touch the mirror, I would be sucked in and lost inside its depths.
Distraught, I turned around, thinking there might be someone to help me. But I was confronted with the black ground and a wall of flames. I fell to my knees, not knowing what to do but feel helpless. I sobbed, afraid that I was losing a part of myself into the depth of that mirror.
The tears flowed for an indeterminate amount of time. I had no gauge for anything but my sorrow and fear. I felt a hand reach out and touch my shoulder. I would have been afraid, but the touch was soothing. I opened my eyes and looked up into the face of a woman. Her face was regal, her eyes knowing. Her hair was pure silver, and I thought that if I reached out and touched it it would feel like silk.
She began to speak, and her voice echoed softly like the patter of rain drops in the forest. "Mihlen..." It seemed to be a great strain for her to speak, for her voice was distant. "Mihlen, you must find a way." I stared at her, the tears drying on my cheeks. "You must find a way to come to me, Mihlen. It is of utmost importance." Her form started to waver at the edges. "You must come." Her voice faded away with her form. There was no trace left behind. Not even a footprint.
That was when I woke. I pulled the blanket tighter around myself to calm the chill that raced through my bones. I felt that something was horribly wrong. The state of the world is chaos at this time, with demons becoming bold enough to walk outside during the daylight. Next, they'll be walking in the towns, terrorizing people.
I could hear the soft breathing of the three other women in the room. The light was mostly dark, with the suggestion that it would lighten up soon. I knew that most of the women would continue sleeping for hours, even as the sun threatened to bake the outside world. I lay in bed, waiting to see if Lord Guinn's calling man would enter the room, seeking out whichever one of the fifteen women in the home the Lord had a taste for as an early morning treat. Some of these women are my friends. Most of them mean nothing to me. And a few of them are my enemies.
In the time I spent waiting, I pondered over the dream. I knew that it was significant. There was a tug in my chest that hadn't been there before, screaming at me that I must do as I was told. I was used to doing my duty. But this duty came from a source I had never encountered. I felt confused and restless. All I wanted to do was fling the covers off of myself and escape the harem I've called home for most of my life.
I calmed myself. I would find a good time to make my escape. I have thought about leaving many times over the years. Each time, my mind automatically stopped working, like something caught in the gears and forced them to a halt. It's some sort of safety trained into me by my owner. I know nothing of my past. All I know is that I am a slave, and I do what I am told. The dream that woke me caused me to feel the most emotion I think I've ever felt.
Eventually, the calling man came in as was his morning routine and gathered up Halene, a petite blond who Lord Guinn had just bought the other day. I lay in bed, pretending to be asleep. It was strange, but as the girl was led out of the room, I felt a touch of fright in my chest. It was like I was feeling what she felt. It's abnormal for me to perceive the feelings of others.
The morning dragged on. I continued laying there, shifting my position once in a while to stretch my body. Lord Guinn's concubines are not expected to do much of anything. We sleep until it's time for lunch. After that, we are permitted to stroll through the gardens or take a swim in the indoor pool. Some of the women prefer to sunbathe or sew. Usually, some time in the afternoon, Lord Guinn calls for another of his girls to tend to him. Some times he even calls two. Dinner is served, and again, it is leisure time. At the end of the day, there is usually another call for a girl. If the Lord is throwing a party, we might be invited to the after party with his friends.
I went through my day as normal. Lunch, then a swim. After dinner, I found myself sitting in the garden enjoying the warm summer breeze. The summers in Laypath are always pleasant. And the breeze blows in off the bay, carrying the scent of the sea. I climbed into a tree and sat there, staring through the branches out at the bay and all of the little ships finding their place before the dark swallowed them up. The Lord's manor is up on a hill in the city and you can see around for miles. The living quarters for the concubines is actually a little building set off on the outskirts of the Lord's property, surrounded by a high fence as if to convince people that it's not there. It has its own gardens and everything.
So this is where I am now, writing away my thoughts. It's beginning to get dark, and I can't see very well. Besides, I think I hear a voice calling my name. I will write again tomorrow evening. Maybe I will have dreams again tonight.
In the dream, I traveled across the earth, searching for anything, anyone, who could possibly be alive in all of this. It seemed there was no one. But finally, I came to a field. The ground was scorched and scarred. In the center of the field was a huge building. It was ancient looking, and ominous. The walls looked like enormous stone slabs, impossible for mere humans to transport. There were no windows. The only entrance or exit into the place seemed to be a huge black door. As I carefully made my way forward, alert for any disturbance to the air, I realized that there was no handle. And as I got closer still, I saw that this wasn't a door at all. It was what looked like a mirror. The glass was black. Small distortions dappled across the surface, unknown shapes that could have been anything.
When I got close enough that I could have reached out an touched it, I saw myself reflected in the mirror. Only, it wasn't really me. She seemed more to be the opposite of me than anything else. The girl looked like me, but her clothing was that of a shrine maiden, and her skin much paler than mine. Her hands were perfectly manicured, like mine, but they seemed to hold much less weight. Her face was so much more innocent, her amber eyes full of light and happiness. If it wasn't for the darkness of the place, I'm sure she would have been glowing.
I stood there studying her for a time, trying to glean a hint of who this girl was. Suddenly, her eyes came to life and she took notice of me standing there. She moved slowly at first, as if shaking off a deep sleep. As soon as she was fully aware, her face creased in despair. Her hand flew up, reaching for me. I thought that it would actually come out of the strange mirror, but it did not. Her mouth started moving, trying to speak to me. I could not hear her, but I knew that she was trying to warn me of some grave danger. After a few seconds, her body snapped straight, terror in her eyes. Some dark substance was winding its way around her, like dark ribbons meant to keep her captive. It dragged her away from me, and all I could do was watch helplessly. I was afraid that if I reached out to try and touch the mirror, I would be sucked in and lost inside its depths.
Distraught, I turned around, thinking there might be someone to help me. But I was confronted with the black ground and a wall of flames. I fell to my knees, not knowing what to do but feel helpless. I sobbed, afraid that I was losing a part of myself into the depth of that mirror.
The tears flowed for an indeterminate amount of time. I had no gauge for anything but my sorrow and fear. I felt a hand reach out and touch my shoulder. I would have been afraid, but the touch was soothing. I opened my eyes and looked up into the face of a woman. Her face was regal, her eyes knowing. Her hair was pure silver, and I thought that if I reached out and touched it it would feel like silk.
She began to speak, and her voice echoed softly like the patter of rain drops in the forest. "Mihlen..." It seemed to be a great strain for her to speak, for her voice was distant. "Mihlen, you must find a way." I stared at her, the tears drying on my cheeks. "You must find a way to come to me, Mihlen. It is of utmost importance." Her form started to waver at the edges. "You must come." Her voice faded away with her form. There was no trace left behind. Not even a footprint.
That was when I woke. I pulled the blanket tighter around myself to calm the chill that raced through my bones. I felt that something was horribly wrong. The state of the world is chaos at this time, with demons becoming bold enough to walk outside during the daylight. Next, they'll be walking in the towns, terrorizing people.
I could hear the soft breathing of the three other women in the room. The light was mostly dark, with the suggestion that it would lighten up soon. I knew that most of the women would continue sleeping for hours, even as the sun threatened to bake the outside world. I lay in bed, waiting to see if Lord Guinn's calling man would enter the room, seeking out whichever one of the fifteen women in the home the Lord had a taste for as an early morning treat. Some of these women are my friends. Most of them mean nothing to me. And a few of them are my enemies.
In the time I spent waiting, I pondered over the dream. I knew that it was significant. There was a tug in my chest that hadn't been there before, screaming at me that I must do as I was told. I was used to doing my duty. But this duty came from a source I had never encountered. I felt confused and restless. All I wanted to do was fling the covers off of myself and escape the harem I've called home for most of my life.
I calmed myself. I would find a good time to make my escape. I have thought about leaving many times over the years. Each time, my mind automatically stopped working, like something caught in the gears and forced them to a halt. It's some sort of safety trained into me by my owner. I know nothing of my past. All I know is that I am a slave, and I do what I am told. The dream that woke me caused me to feel the most emotion I think I've ever felt.
Eventually, the calling man came in as was his morning routine and gathered up Halene, a petite blond who Lord Guinn had just bought the other day. I lay in bed, pretending to be asleep. It was strange, but as the girl was led out of the room, I felt a touch of fright in my chest. It was like I was feeling what she felt. It's abnormal for me to perceive the feelings of others.
The morning dragged on. I continued laying there, shifting my position once in a while to stretch my body. Lord Guinn's concubines are not expected to do much of anything. We sleep until it's time for lunch. After that, we are permitted to stroll through the gardens or take a swim in the indoor pool. Some of the women prefer to sunbathe or sew. Usually, some time in the afternoon, Lord Guinn calls for another of his girls to tend to him. Some times he even calls two. Dinner is served, and again, it is leisure time. At the end of the day, there is usually another call for a girl. If the Lord is throwing a party, we might be invited to the after party with his friends.
I went through my day as normal. Lunch, then a swim. After dinner, I found myself sitting in the garden enjoying the warm summer breeze. The summers in Laypath are always pleasant. And the breeze blows in off the bay, carrying the scent of the sea. I climbed into a tree and sat there, staring through the branches out at the bay and all of the little ships finding their place before the dark swallowed them up. The Lord's manor is up on a hill in the city and you can see around for miles. The living quarters for the concubines is actually a little building set off on the outskirts of the Lord's property, surrounded by a high fence as if to convince people that it's not there. It has its own gardens and everything.
So this is where I am now, writing away my thoughts. It's beginning to get dark, and I can't see very well. Besides, I think I hear a voice calling my name. I will write again tomorrow evening. Maybe I will have dreams again tonight.
28 January, 2012
Preface
I decided to write a little preface to my story to help the process along. I've been thinking a lot over the past week about the story and characters and the world and all of that wonderful stuff! My mind feels alive with all of these crazy ideas.
There was a little trouble simply with figuring out how to organize this, since not all of the content in this blog is directed at the blog fiction I'm about to begin. So, I've decided that I will title all other posts whatever title they deserve, and title the blog fiction as dates from the fictional world. Hopefully that will be easy enough to decipher for everyone.
Writing the story like it was a diary was almost scratched, because I think it would be a lot easier to write from multiple people's points of view than from just one. But that's just a part of the challenge for me. It may be difficult to describe everything that's going on from only one character's viewpoint. But I will figure it out. So off I go to keep myself up way too late writing the first post in my blog fiction!
There was a little trouble simply with figuring out how to organize this, since not all of the content in this blog is directed at the blog fiction I'm about to begin. So, I've decided that I will title all other posts whatever title they deserve, and title the blog fiction as dates from the fictional world. Hopefully that will be easy enough to decipher for everyone.
Writing the story like it was a diary was almost scratched, because I think it would be a lot easier to write from multiple people's points of view than from just one. But that's just a part of the challenge for me. It may be difficult to describe everything that's going on from only one character's viewpoint. But I will figure it out. So off I go to keep myself up way too late writing the first post in my blog fiction!
21 January, 2012
The Beginning of a Blog Fiction
I am feeling bored, and my mind is restless, so I'm going to continue writing. I'm still very curious about blog fiction, and I think I might give this a try. For those who don't know, blog fiction is the concept of writing a blog from the perspective of a fictional character. You can choose a favorite character already in existence, or you can create a whole world of your own if you so choose. It seems to be a pretty new idea, or maybe just has a very small following.
My blog is a little different than a traditional blog fiction because I don't dedicate every post in this blog to that specific task. I will make sure to title all of my posts under my ongoing blog fiction the same so that it's easy to find them.
After the first step of coming up with a rough storyline, I need to come up with some characters to fit that storyline. I've seen some blog fictions where the character bio is listed on the blog, but I don't think I like that idea. I want to show you this character through the process of writing. You would never see a character bio in a novel with age, height, gender, and all of those stats. If this goes far enough, I may create a sort of glossary, but nothing extreme.
I have seen blog fictions written from first person, in diary format. I have also seen some written from third person. I think this may be difficult for me at first, but I will write it in first person. It seems right to me that since this is a "web-log," I should write in that format.
And a few hours later, I have completed the main idea of my storyline and my main character. I was hoping to get a start on my first blog fiction, but it's almost 5 AM and I need to sleep. I'm excited to mull these ideas around in my mind and see how they come out!
Stay tuned for my next entry, it should be the beginning of my story.
My blog is a little different than a traditional blog fiction because I don't dedicate every post in this blog to that specific task. I will make sure to title all of my posts under my ongoing blog fiction the same so that it's easy to find them.
After the first step of coming up with a rough storyline, I need to come up with some characters to fit that storyline. I've seen some blog fictions where the character bio is listed on the blog, but I don't think I like that idea. I want to show you this character through the process of writing. You would never see a character bio in a novel with age, height, gender, and all of those stats. If this goes far enough, I may create a sort of glossary, but nothing extreme.
I have seen blog fictions written from first person, in diary format. I have also seen some written from third person. I think this may be difficult for me at first, but I will write it in first person. It seems right to me that since this is a "web-log," I should write in that format.
And a few hours later, I have completed the main idea of my storyline and my main character. I was hoping to get a start on my first blog fiction, but it's almost 5 AM and I need to sleep. I'm excited to mull these ideas around in my mind and see how they come out!
Stay tuned for my next entry, it should be the beginning of my story.
A Favorite Tool
A lot of times, I find myself having a hard time coming up with something to write. Usually, I find that if I can just find a starting point, I can go somewhere with it. I found this wonderful tool with the help of stumbleupon. Oneword.com is a website that can help me solve this problem. It's very simple. You click the "go" button on the homepage. It shows you a word, and gives you one minute to write whatever you can think about it. The site then posts your minute's worth of writing with all the other people who have participated that day. I also enjoy looking back at other people's posts to see what ideas a single word could spark.
The one negative side that I've found with this site is that it only gives one word per day. I would love if it were unlimited and you could just click it a hundred times. So I decided to make a similar tool with things at my own house. The concept is the same. I wrote a whole bunch of descriptive words down on pieces of paper and put them in a bag. I mix them up and draw out a word when I feel the need for some inspiration. An egg-timer is always handy to give myself a time limit. The results of my writing get put away, maybe to be used as inspiration later for some other writing task I have in mind. On good occasions, I might actually decide to go with the flow and ignore the timer!
I'm feeling the need for some inspiration, so I'm going to use the grab bag method right now, and write for ten minutes. I'm also closing out of Facebook so I won't get distracted....
My word is... Sheep!
My sister was always dragging around that little stuffed sheep. I remember wondering why she was so attached to it. Granted, I didn't stop sleeping with a stuffed animal until I was nineteen, and started sleeping regularly at night with my then boyfriend.
She called it "Lamby." My mom had to take it from her a few times and force her to wash it. My sister always hated that. Lamby would be too wet for her to carry around for a few days. I let her borrow some of my stuffed animals when she was alone without her stuffed sheep. One was a stuffed rabbit dressed in ballerina clothing I called "Bun-Bun." I remember being so devastated when she finally fell apart.
Lamby actually disappeared once. It was the summer my parents took us to Disneyland. I was twelve, and my little sisters were ten. We stayed in a hotel for five days. We visited with my grandpa and his family. And at the end of the trip, we forgot to check under the beds. My dad always told us to check under the beds before we left anywhere, and we forgot. To this day, I won't forget again. Poor Lamby got left under the bed, deserted in a lonely hotel.
Somehow, we forgot all about Lamby until it was too late to go back. My sister was so upset. No, we couldn't replace Lamby with a new Lamby! It just wasn't possible to fix, no matter how hard my parents tried to console her. But only a few days after we got home, we got a call from the hotel. One of the cleaning crew had found Lamby under the bed, and thought some little girl would be missing it. They had found my parent's information in their system. They actually shipped the stuffed sheep back to us. Of course, Lamby did have a detour on the way. There was another town with the same name as the one we lived in in California, and that town's post office had to figure it out before they could sent it back on its way home.
My sister was so relieved have her sheep back. // END
Well, that was ten minutes. It's interesting to see what comes to mind when I look at one little word. I usually prefer to write fiction, typically fantasy or sci-fi. But I couldn't resist writing some non-fiction when the word "sheep" triggered my memory.
My creative juices feel like they're flowing better now! Critiques are always appreciated.
Until next time!
The one negative side that I've found with this site is that it only gives one word per day. I would love if it were unlimited and you could just click it a hundred times. So I decided to make a similar tool with things at my own house. The concept is the same. I wrote a whole bunch of descriptive words down on pieces of paper and put them in a bag. I mix them up and draw out a word when I feel the need for some inspiration. An egg-timer is always handy to give myself a time limit. The results of my writing get put away, maybe to be used as inspiration later for some other writing task I have in mind. On good occasions, I might actually decide to go with the flow and ignore the timer!
I'm feeling the need for some inspiration, so I'm going to use the grab bag method right now, and write for ten minutes. I'm also closing out of Facebook so I won't get distracted....
My word is... Sheep!
My sister was always dragging around that little stuffed sheep. I remember wondering why she was so attached to it. Granted, I didn't stop sleeping with a stuffed animal until I was nineteen, and started sleeping regularly at night with my then boyfriend.
She called it "Lamby." My mom had to take it from her a few times and force her to wash it. My sister always hated that. Lamby would be too wet for her to carry around for a few days. I let her borrow some of my stuffed animals when she was alone without her stuffed sheep. One was a stuffed rabbit dressed in ballerina clothing I called "Bun-Bun." I remember being so devastated when she finally fell apart.
Lamby actually disappeared once. It was the summer my parents took us to Disneyland. I was twelve, and my little sisters were ten. We stayed in a hotel for five days. We visited with my grandpa and his family. And at the end of the trip, we forgot to check under the beds. My dad always told us to check under the beds before we left anywhere, and we forgot. To this day, I won't forget again. Poor Lamby got left under the bed, deserted in a lonely hotel.
Somehow, we forgot all about Lamby until it was too late to go back. My sister was so upset. No, we couldn't replace Lamby with a new Lamby! It just wasn't possible to fix, no matter how hard my parents tried to console her. But only a few days after we got home, we got a call from the hotel. One of the cleaning crew had found Lamby under the bed, and thought some little girl would be missing it. They had found my parent's information in their system. They actually shipped the stuffed sheep back to us. Of course, Lamby did have a detour on the way. There was another town with the same name as the one we lived in in California, and that town's post office had to figure it out before they could sent it back on its way home.
My sister was so relieved have her sheep back. // END
Well, that was ten minutes. It's interesting to see what comes to mind when I look at one little word. I usually prefer to write fiction, typically fantasy or sci-fi. But I couldn't resist writing some non-fiction when the word "sheep" triggered my memory.
My creative juices feel like they're flowing better now! Critiques are always appreciated.
Until next time!
19 January, 2012
Welcome to My Blog!
I really wanted to kick this blog off with a welcome, so here it is!
My name is Liz, and I am a newly-wed young woman with far too much on her mind for her own good. I live with my husband Dan, our vicious pit bull Ricky, and our fat cat, Tahiti. That's probably about all you really need to know about me, as this blog isn't about me! It's about me exploring my writing skills and developing new ones.
I recently made the decision to start a blog after I realized that I have a lot of issues and topics that I love discussing, but I need an audience that wants to hear those things. I also want an audience that I can interact with, and learn things from.
While doing some research, I decided that the best way to start blogging was to choose a specific topic for my blog. Since I have many things I want to write about, I can't possibly put it all in one place. This blog, Out Of My Woods, is created for me to get into the blogging world and learn how to work with my blog and maximize its potential. I love creative writing. It helps me expand my mind and my vocabulary. It's also a more leisurely writing experience for me, as my other blogging interests tend to be on the more serious side of things.
Right now this blog is an experiment. I'm not quite sure the extent of what I'll post here. Some of it will be creative writing exercises. I'm debating writing an ongoing story as well, maybe dabbling in the genre of blog fiction. I may just use this blog as a tool to open my mind when I'm feeling blocked. I'm also hoping that this blog will help me bring the creative side of me that I've lost touch with. Maybe I'll even start drawing again, if I become inspired enough.
It's very important to me that anyone who reads this blog feels welcome to comment on my posts. I need to hear compliments and criticism, so feel free to dish it. It will only help me grow!
Whatever happens with this blog, I'm going to enjoy the ride. So sit back and join me for it!
My name is Liz, and I am a newly-wed young woman with far too much on her mind for her own good. I live with my husband Dan, our vicious pit bull Ricky, and our fat cat, Tahiti. That's probably about all you really need to know about me, as this blog isn't about me! It's about me exploring my writing skills and developing new ones.
I recently made the decision to start a blog after I realized that I have a lot of issues and topics that I love discussing, but I need an audience that wants to hear those things. I also want an audience that I can interact with, and learn things from.
While doing some research, I decided that the best way to start blogging was to choose a specific topic for my blog. Since I have many things I want to write about, I can't possibly put it all in one place. This blog, Out Of My Woods, is created for me to get into the blogging world and learn how to work with my blog and maximize its potential. I love creative writing. It helps me expand my mind and my vocabulary. It's also a more leisurely writing experience for me, as my other blogging interests tend to be on the more serious side of things.
Right now this blog is an experiment. I'm not quite sure the extent of what I'll post here. Some of it will be creative writing exercises. I'm debating writing an ongoing story as well, maybe dabbling in the genre of blog fiction. I may just use this blog as a tool to open my mind when I'm feeling blocked. I'm also hoping that this blog will help me bring the creative side of me that I've lost touch with. Maybe I'll even start drawing again, if I become inspired enough.
It's very important to me that anyone who reads this blog feels welcome to comment on my posts. I need to hear compliments and criticism, so feel free to dish it. It will only help me grow!
Whatever happens with this blog, I'm going to enjoy the ride. So sit back and join me for it!
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