Easy way to end paragraphs much?

I just realised that Amelia falls unconcious WAY too much. Time to make some edits -_-

Oh, by the way

Yeah, so I've been writing this story for a while, and I never actually realized this, but blog spot doesn't copy my italicized fonts unless I add some codes into the blog post itself, which I've neglected to do because it just takes so darn long. In any case, I just thought I'd let you guys know that I will get around to it later, because it's actually kind of important to how Din speaks. The "voice" that Arthur referred to at the end of chapter 2 part 4, was supposed to be writing in italics. That is to say, every time Din spoke with said voice (described as icy and cold, the font would become italicized. So forgive the lack of this tool, I promise it will be set right in later updates, but for now, just know that Din's voice changes just before fights, but he leads Arthur to believe that he is capable of making this change whenever he desires.

Chapter 2 He’s still Biggie, but I’m Not So ‘Twiggy’ Now eh? Part 5

“Come now, you can’t expect to get it on your first try! Stop crying, and just try it again. I know you can do it. We all know you can do it, so just don’t give up. You hear me Amelia? Never give up. No matter what happens, promise me that you’ll always keep your chin up high. Promise me that you will never let anybody step on you. Promise me that you will never stop trying. Right Amy? Promise me!”
“I promise”
Amelia opened her eyes slowly, and realised that she was in the exact same room as the one she had awoken in several hours ago. She twitched her fingers in fear of the pain that would engulf her body from having been outside in the rain, then realised that she had not been out in the rain. She turned and stood up from the bed to find a note on the floor. She brushed off the dust and dirt from the paper and squinted her eyes to try and decipher what was undoubtedly Din’s horrendous handwriting.
“Mornin’ sleeping beauty! I hope you’re feeling better. Art and I are down in the Atrium getting a cup of water. If you wake up before we get back, feel free to just walk down the hallway and meet up with us. Before you do any of that though, I want you to count to 10, say your name 6 times, and make sure you can move all of your limbs. Art and I still don’t really know why you passed out, so if you feel weak at all, don’t just stay there. We’ll see you soon. Later Amy!”
Amelia scoffed at the use of “Amy”. It felt familiar and comforting, yet the fact that Din used it made the name utterly vile to her. I’ll have to give him a good smack later she thought, as she walked out of the room that had surprisingly begun to feel like a home to her. She shook her head to remove that thought
As she stepped outside, she noticed that the hallway was completely empty. What used to be a small hallway packed with people was now as barren as the desert outside.
Amelia remembered the way to go from her earlier trek that had been so rudely interrupted by Arthur, and began to walk down through the empty hallway. She made her way quickly through the seemingly endless tube of doors and found herself in the Atrium, which was now full of people. Puzzled, Amelia scratched her head and approached a man by the edge of the crowd. She jumped a few times to try and see over the sea of people, but to no avail, and finally decided to ask the man what was going on.
She tapped the man on the shoulder and was immediately met with a fist to the face. The man had smacked her without even a glance.
Amelia laid on the floor holding her cheek. She felt herself turning red both with embarrassment and the blood cells that would heal the blow. She clenched her fist, catching sand in her palm. She stared at the craggy ground for a second longer and felt the heat from her face moving down to her neck and her chest. She looked up at the man that hit her, who had apparently taken interest in the girl that he assaulted and was looking down at her. Their eyes met and Amelia could feel the heat reaching the tips of her toes.
She could see the man’s lips moving, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. The man was certainly talking, but the vibrations were hitting Amelia’s ears far too slowly for the words that they should be creating were incomprehensible. Amelia felt herself relax her muscles, getting ready to tighten them in order to stand up, and fell unconscious. “Finally”

Chapter 2 He’s still Biggie, but I’m Not So ‘Twiggy’ Now eh? Part 4

The barracks hadn’t changed for as long as Din could remember. What they called a “barracks” was really just a small, square shaped room with weapons lining every inch of the walls. From swords to katars, jurs to bows, it was a wonder that so many instruments of death could be found in one place. Contrary to the beliefs of most non-Tursen, the barracks was not guarded at all. Any person could easily steal weaponry from the barracks if they so desired. The thing is, every person knew that, even armed in every single way possible, no person could fight a Tursen evenly.
Both Din and Arthur found Coras Tursen uniforms hanging up in a supply closet in the corner of the barracks (the only spot where no weapons were hanging). Din picked up his own after a few seconds of searching. The Coras uniform was a simple garb of black cloth lined with the bones of beasts slain, or found dead. The bones were arranged to form the Coras insignia: a single fang over a rain cloud, symbolising their defiance towards the rain, and their custom to raid during storms. The garb was nothing more than a cape and a hood to fit over a Tursen’s clothing; however, Din’s was special. He liked to take time in order to distinguish himself among the Tursen. Din’s uniform used rain resistant material, the same colour as the regular uniform, that covered his entire body, like a full suit. The arms and legs were lined with the rib bones of creatures he himself had gone out to slay, as well as the joints, which were capped by circular bones. He swiftly slipped his uniform on, and tied the cape around his neck. He then picked up mask for his mouth made of the jaws of what some might say to be a dragon, and attached it to his hood.
Din walked towards a box made of the bones of some sort of monster. It looked to be the skull of a giant snake; the head severed, and the jaws latched together to form a container. He tugged on the two longest fangs, releasing them from the latch that bound them, and opened jaws as wide as the joint would allow. Inside, two daggers were stored.
Both were completely black. So much so, that anyone other than Din might mistake the blade for the handle. They were different sizes, one at about 14 inches, and the other at about 9, and both had a jewel encrusted into the hilt. The longer blade contained a deep red gem. It seemed to pulse, and radiate cold. The shorter dagger was charmed by a calming green stone. It too seemed to have a pulse. Din slipped the two into his belt
“Wow” Arthur said, looking over his shoulder from across the room where he was apparently inspecting a pair of axes. “Come now, they aren’t even Reghs, Din! No need to get serious.”
“That” Din said back, his mask giving the already cold sound of his voice an even more menacing tone, “Is very true.”
Arthur relaxed slightly. His shoulders drooped, and he smiled at his small friend. “You know,” he said “I’ve known you for 8 years, and I still don’t know if you turn that voice on and off just to scare people or if it’s actually something you can’t control”
Din smiled back at Arthur. “What voice?” he said, as he laid his daggers back into the jaws of the serpent. Arthur shivered.

Chapter 2 He’s still Biggie, but I’m Not So ‘Twiggy’ Now eh? Part 3

“It’s just a fight?” Amelia had said, three hours earlier. “You called them games though. Fights aren’t games, nor are they a very... Classy way of solving differences between uh, what were they called?”
“Grey Areas” Din had answered. “And yeah, they aren’t very glorified, but don’t go calling then ‘just fights’” He frowned slightly “Anybody can fight for water Amy. The difference is the ‘who’. We’re Tursen, not just random sand rats scrounging for a drink”
“Yeah?” Amelia scoffed jokingly “Judging by your build, I doubt you could fight off a rat. In any case, what’s so special about Tursen? How does that change a fight into a game?” She crossed her arms, as if to say “Humour me”
“For the simple reason” Din said as he too crossed his arms mockingly “That Tursen have an...Unexplainable power.” Amelia raised an eyebrow.
“Power?” She said “That sounds ridiculous. You sure you’re sane?”
“You’re the one asking questions. So go ahead and don’t believe me”
“Touché”
“Damn straight” Din said with a smile “Anyway, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted” He affectionately punched her arm “The difference between a street brawl and a ‘game’, is that the earned water is pure. You know firsthand what it feels like to get water on your skin. Now multiply that by a couple thousand, and put that pain on your insides. Is it worth it to get a drink of water? I doubt it.”
“So, to continue, the water won in a ‘game’ is somehow purified. I said Tursen have power, right? That power is purification. Any time two or more Tursen are put against each other, the water nearby somehow purifies itself.” Din stood up from the stone bed and sat back down across from Amelia.
“Then why don’t you just have Tursen fighting while it rains?” Amelia said.
“I don’t know if you realised this yet” Din said laughing “But the rain would kill us before purifying. It kinda stings when it touches you, no? Come on, I’ll tell you more later. Let’s go check out the Atrium. But stick close; I’m not exactly liked around here.” The pair stood and left the room.
“Any specific rules?” Din called across to the trio standing in front of him. He could see them shiver at his voice.
One of the two followers took off their cloaks and looked up at Arthur. He quickly shifted his gaze to the floor in front of his feet. “Elimination. We’ll fight in one on one’s until you lose, then the next fighter will take over.” He called back to Din.
The foreigner who spoke took a second to tie his hair up behind his head. He wore the outfit of an Ulto Tursen. Their symbol, a snowflake made of daggers, was tattooed onto his left cheek. The extremely long sleeves reflected their theme of “Avalanche in the desert” while their bottoms were covered by a kilt-like piece. The entire outfit was made from the purest of white cloth. It was a shock to the eyes in contrast to the pure black cloaks worn to ward off the rain.
“If it’s elimination, then we won’t need to call Shale, will we?” Arthur asked, looking down at Din.
“Prepare yourselves. The challenger barracks is that way.” Din said, pointing down a long hallway. A path of people had opened up for the challengers to walk down that way. Din turned to Arthur “To be honest old friend, without Phera here, I doubt we would need you” Arthur shivered again, and walked began walking towards the host’s barracks. Din had already disappeared.

Chapter 2 He’s still Biggie, but I’m Not So ‘Twiggy’ Now eh? Part 2 (yeah, chapter was renamed)

“You shouldn’t go underestimating them, Art” Din replied. His voice had begun to take on a cold tone. “You know what happens if we lose”. Arthur began to shiver. Din always became like this just before a “game”.
“That’s true” Arthur replied, distancing himself from Din. No matter how many times Arthur had heard Din’s voice when he got like this; it still caused him to shake.
The atrium began to awaken as three figures strode into the enormous room from outside. The only opening to the desert from Coras was a small door that connected directly to the atrium. The door was made of stone, but covered in a cloth that had properties resistant to the rain. The same cloth that was used to make cloaks that the Tursen would wear. If somebody were to pass by the door, they might think that it were just another door in the Atrium. The might think that the guards standing by it were just for show. Of course, everybody knew that going through that door would get them killed.
All three of the newcomers wore cloaks to protect from the rain. Although, the skies appeared to be clear, rain could fall without notice, killing off anything stupid enough to still be outside. The first stood at about the same height as Din. He walked in the front, signifying that he would be leader, and last to fight. The other two skulked behind. Din raised an eyebrow. They appeared to be afraid of their leader.
A crowd quickly formed around the visitors. They booed them, and some even threw their (empty) cups at them. None however made any attempt to actually cause harm. Every single person in the atrium knew that Tursen were not to be trifled with. Any Tursen could easily kill every person in the atrium in a matter of minutes. That is, every person except for the other Tursen.
The Raiders stopped moving inside of a circle etched into the floor. The circle was drawn to show that any who stood inside of it were fully aware of the consequences. Often, regular people would step into the circle by accident and quickly lost water from that game.
Din and Arthur walked forwards and stepped into their respective circle as well.

Chapter 2 He's still biggie, but I'm not so twiggie now, eh?

“She’s asleep” Din said, as he and Arthur walked into the main atrium of Coras. The two found a table with two vacant seats and sat down. The room was massive. One could hardly look from one end to the other, and the fact that 80% of the people currently living in this particular Gray Area. The roof stood well over even Arthur’s head, in the shape of a dome. The dome was split up by different coloured stonework into three areas: Rest, Fight, and Observe. The resting area is where residents often found Din and Arthur talking, and was covered entirely by tables identical to the one that the pair sat at.
“You mean unconscious” Arthur corrected “People don’t just fall asleep while you’re talking, you know.” He sipped a cup of water, and the sound of sloshing turned heads. Arthur growled at them, and all the heads turned back doubly as quick. “What a bunch of rats! Scurrying at even the sound of water”
“I can’t say that I blame them” Din answered “These are hard times for all of us. Besides, it’s kind of your own fault slinging that stuff around. You know full well what it’s like around here” The pair knew all too well how treasured even a single cup of water could be. Deaths over water had become so common that the city of Coras didn’t even bother policing water trafficking anymore. After a while, only Tursen were given rations of water that they could keep. All other resources were able to be picked up in exchange for ration tickets, and had to be drank the moment they were picked up.
“Fine” Arthur said “You’re right. But they know who we are. Why would they even bother giving us such murderous looks? Having water obviously means that we’re Tursen, and having the status of Tursen means that we obviously could kill 10 of these rats in a second!”
“Because” Din said, looking at his friend “They will die without water anyway. I’d say living is something worth risking your life for” Sometimes Din didn’t like constantly having to correct his friend, but it wasn’t as if he could sit with anyone else. Giving the pair the nickname “Biggie and Twiggy” wasn’t a name given in teasing form. It was the only way that the other people living in Coras could insult the pair. People would have the look of those who tease using these names, but it was obvious the feelings that their smiles would hide. Tursen had water, and the people didn’t. Thus, the Tursen were hated. “But hey, it’s better than being thirsty, right old friend?”
“Damn straight” Arthur replied. He drank the last bit of the cup and stood up to find Din gone. Arthur wasn’t worried. He knew exactly what was going on.
“They’re here.” Din said, at Arthur’s side once again. Din’s ability to be undetected even by Arthur amazed him even after the six years the pair had been a pair.
“Who is it this time?” Arthur asked
“Ulto” Din answered “But Phera didn’t come. Neither did Toun, or Tamber.”
“Ulto without their top three?” Arthur laughed, emitting a high sound, betraying his figure. “These Tursen aren’t even worth our time!”

Sorry For Being Selfish

Will you please give me a smile? Come now, you know it’s easy. Just a slight tense of a muscle here, and a muscle there. The kind of smile that made my heart leap. Yes, it sounds cliché, but that’s what I resort to when I think of you. Your smile that I crave to see when I am lonely, the same smile that I crave when I am sad. The warm look upon your face as you express happiness. The shared happiness I feel through solidarity. Will you show it to me? It need not be held, although the longer you smile, the greater the happiness.


Will you please hold my hand? I need the warmth of your smooth fingers intertwined with mine. Ten laces weaved tightly, showing the sign of affection. I

would feel your pulse as my own, through the hand that links our bodies and souls, hearts and minds. It need not be long. The momentary bliss is enough to sustain me until the next time.


Will you please give me a hug? An awkward embrace, I know, yet it would mean so much. With my body so close, my pulse would match yours. A brief squeeze lets me know that you are still here. I love the warmth of your body, your head at my chest, the soft breathing. It need not be lasting. The warmth will get me through the night


Will you please give me this dance? A step here, and a step there. Each movement calm, and deliberate. A step taken, a step followed, a twirl here, and a swing elsewhere. We add glazes to each simple count. The music sustains us, and I feel your soul. It feels ethereal, detached. “Is that really me?” I wonder, then, in quick realization, change the “me” to an “us”. The song may not be long, but the memory will last forever


Will you please give me a kiss? Cool lips together, an oath is made to share ones love. The description is not long, we both know how we feel.

I know I am selfish, always asking, always taking. But please, dear, bear with my complex demands as I ask of you one last thing.


Will you please give me your heart?

No title yet chapter 1: I have red hair too (Part 4)

“Well, the thing is, we’re in the middle of the desert. How do you expect us to get a drink of water around here? We can’t exactly collect the rain water, and oases don’t show up every day. We’d be lucky to find one a month! Let alone one close enough that none of your water leaks out on your way home. Besides, springs that are found are usually found by people selfish enough to conceal their locations. They hide out near ponds and kill anybody who comes close.” Din spat on the floor in disgust “It’s not easy living out here. That’s why we have Tursen.”
“Tursen?” Asked Amelia. Something hurt in the back of her mind.
“Raiders. Fighters, for Gray areas. We go out to hunt down other Gray areas and challenge the local Tursen to “games”. The winners get water.” Din answered
“That’s all great Din” Amelia said “but I have two questions. One, why haven’t you questioned my appearing in the middle of the desert? And two, Don’t you ever wonder where the water comes from? I mean, you said you don’t often find-”
Suddenly, Arthur popped out of one of the nearby rooms, jumping on Din’s back, and knocking him over. The shockwave of the two hitting the ground made the floor shake. “Art...” Din said, muffled by the stone floor, “Get Off.”
“Sure thing Din!” Arthur said, smiling widely. He turned towards Amelia, extended a hand and said “Arthur Tiro, at your service. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Amelia looked up at him in bewilderment. How such a large man could move so quickly was beyond her. Not to mention that she had just met Din. There was no way that this man had heard “so much about her”. “What do you mean? Heard from who?” Amelia became very nervous. Who is this? She thought. Her palms became sweaty. Her breathing became heavy, and every inch of her screamed to run. Her breaths came quickly, yet no air filled her lungs. She began to panic, and bolted off down the hallway. An uncountable number of doors flew by in her inhuman speed. She heard Arthur calling after her, in words spoken too slowly to comprehend. I need to get away from that man she thought.

“Stop.” Then suddenly, she was in Din’s arms. He held her close and tightly, as she realised that she had not moved a single step. Amelia felt weak. “I think I need to....” and fell into unconsciousness.

No title yet chapter 1: I have red hair too (Part 3)

“I’m so proud.” Said Amelia, dryly. The boy wore tattered clothes, which were completely beige and nearly disintegrated. He had crimson hair, a rare colour, just like Amelia, and a soft, kind face. Amelia relaxed. “Were you the one who found me?”
“Yes” the boy answered. “You’re one lucky kid. Any grown man would have died in your place”. He placed the knife he was using to whittle on a nearby table, and pocketed the piece of wood.
“I guess I should thank you” Amelia said. “Thank you. I’m Amelia by the way”. She turned her head to stare at the ceiling once more. Her neck barely throbbed.
“Din” The boy said “Din Took. Whittler, runner and Tursen, at your service.” He stood up and extended his hand in a friendly offer. Then in embarrassed realisation, he pulled it back “oh yeah. You can’t stand.”
Amelia twitched her fingers. They did not burn. She moved her leg. Nor did they. Slowly, yet with an odd sense of bravery, Amelia stood up. “Shows how much you know” she said, jokingly.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, Amelia approached Din after he finished his match as well. “You’re pathetic” he joked “Sweating from that? Terrible.”
“And I suppose you were perfectly fine?” Amelia shot back, smiling “From the looks of it, I guess you are”. He was completely prim and tidy. He looked exactly the same as he did before he went in to fight. “I’ve never watched you before” She added “How do you do it?”
Din grinned. A look Amelia came to love and hate. It generally meant that she was going to be made a fool of in a few seconds. “I’m good at reading people.” He answered. “Why dodge, when I can make them miss?” Amelia puzzled over this, and the two parted ways.
Three hours later, the pair walked out of the room. They had spent the time bonding over their mutual witty venom that they called conversation. It wasn’t long before Amelia was capable of getting up out of the “bed” (which she noticed was actually just a rock with a human-sized indentation) and walked up and out of the room, as Din explained exactly where she was.
“We call it a Gray Area” Din began “It’s a safe zone from the rain. For some reason, the rocks that this dump is made up of are unaffected by the rain. I don’t know if you were conscious outside for long enough to realise that every other building in the country has been completely overwhelmed by the acidity of the rain.” Amelia nodded and continued walking. The two had entered a hallway that seemed to go on forever. Doorway’s lined the walls, each leading to a room similar to the one she had spent the last three hours in. “We’re not the only Gray Area” Din continued, “There’s plenty more out there, but nobody ever bothers to go out and find them. Well, almost nobody.” Amelia raised an eyebrow.

No title yet chapter 1: I have red hair too (Part 2)

Arthur moved beside his friend and looked out onto the horizon. “What do you mean?” he said “I can’t see anything. It’s raining pretty hard out there” he said, straining his eyes. Din ran into the tower and hopped down the spiral stairs two by two, the dust barely stirring as he moved. He paused for a moment and yelled “Stop looking and just follow me! Grab a cloak, we have to hurry!” Arthur hopped down the steps after him. The steps protested his weight combined with his speed. “What’s the hurry?” he called “It’s not like there’s a person out there!”
“Bring an extra cloak.” Din called back.
Amelia didn’t know who she was. She didn’t know where she was, and she sure didn’t know what was happening to her. She would have loved to sit down and figure out what exactly was going on, but she couldn’t sit, considering her present predicament. In fact, she really couldn’t do much at all except lie there on the sand. She never knew such pain until this moment. Or so she thought. That’s when the moment passed, and yet another wave of “water” landed on her body. She screamed out, yet somehow she knew there was absolutely no way that anybody could hear her. She couldn’t hear herself. She couldn’t feel anything. Her entire being was forcing her into the black abyss of unconsciousness, but she fought against that with all of her might. Surely if she fainted here she would die. These thoughts passed through her mind in an instant, only to be washed away by the pain of the water. Screw it she thought. She passed out.
Waking up after being in excruciating pain is like drinking salt water after a drought. It will feel great at first, that drop parting your lips, but you don’t realise that you will only be more dehydrated in a few minutes. So, Amelia felt great. The pain was all gone. It was almost funny how fast the mind can forget something like pain, and yet as she tried to sit up, and every burn on her body rubbed against anything touching her skin screamed in protest, her body remembered the pain very vividly, and she lay back down.
Her eyes darted around, trying to take in as much of the one hundred and eighty degrees of vision she was limited to. A fly buzzed around the craggy, old roof. It was beige, (the roof, not the fly) but the colour was no doubt dyed from not being painted for a very long time. She sniffed the air, instinctively, attempting to get a grasp on where exactly she was. She then realised just how little information sniffing the air would bring her. Much to her surprise, she smelled food. She closed her eyes. Not that they were doing her any good at this point anyway. Her ears became more sensitive, as she closed off her brain’s access to her other senses. Scratching, no, whittling. She heard whittling. Soft scratching, with a slight change in the sound after each previous strike on the wood.
“Good morning”. Amelia snapped her eyes back open, and turned her head to the side. Her protesting neck screamed in pain, but she continued her slow, agonizing movement. There sat a rather small, scrawny boy. “you didn’t have to turn your head” he said, absent minded. “I know what that’s like after being in the rain. Or I know what it’s like after being in the rain for about 5 seconds. You must have been there for a good twenty minutes.”

No title Yet Chapter 1: I've got red hair too. (Part 1)

Amelia began to sweat. Her feet began to itch as the tiny rocks she was standing on scraped at her skin. She tossed her hair over her shoulder; a nervous habit, since she knew her hair would be flying everywhere in short order. Absent minded, she deflected yet another oncoming blow from her opponent. Her hair fell in front of her face. Her opponent saw this as an advantage and made a daring all or nothing leap at Amelia; he didn’t know her very well. Amelia easily side stepped the attack and her opponent continued onwards past her, slamming into one of the rounded walls of the arena. I wonder how everybody else is doing. Amelia thought. Then: I should probably get my hair cut again. It’s getting in the way while I fight. Of course, she was given no break to think all of this. Her opponent made advances the entire time, slashing, stabbing; all sorts of ridiculous attacks that Amelia would only expect from the absolutely least experienced fighters.
She flicked her hair again and, frustrated far beyond a controllable amount, used one of her daggers to slice off about three inches of her hair. The soft crimson locks drifted slowly to the ground. It looked out of place against the rough floor of the arena. She kicked her opponent. There. Much better She dodged another oncoming blow, and countered with a sharp jab from her elbow. It kind of looks like blood when it’s covered with dirt there on the floor. She looked down at her fallen opponent. Oops. Guess I hit a little too hard. The arena gates opened, and she left.
It was raining, so Din Took was staying inside. Of course, so was everybody else in the country since they all probably enjoyed living too much to take a step into The Rain. Much to his dismay, however, he was stuck doing sentry duty. “As if anybody would have even the slightest notion to come here while it’s raining” he muttered to nobody in particular.
“You’d be surprised”, came the unexpected response. Arthur Tiro patted Din’s head playfully. He stood a good foot-and-a-half taller than Din, and was incredibly muscular. Next to the slim frame of Din, his build appeared even more ridiculous than it already was.
Din swatted Arthur’s hand away from his head, running his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to return it to its original filthy, yet neat form. “Yes” Din said “I really would be surprised if anybody were out there. I doubt anybody could survive ten seconds in the rain, let alone walk all the way from one of the other Gray Areas.” He turned around and sat back in his chair. The two were unlikely friends. Din one of the smallest people living at The Library and Arthur being the biggest. Also, Din was not only rather short, but of a small build as well. Arthur on the other hand could probably lift twelve times his own weight, which is a lot considering his weight. The joke around the library called the pair Biggie and Twiggy. Although insulting, the pair took their names as a compliment.
Arthur walked over to Din, kicking his shin to force him to stand up again. “The Grey areas really aren’t that far Din. You know that. It’s not like we haven’t made that journey yet” Arthur said, pushing Din back to his designated spot of standing watch for the day. Of course, Din couldn’t catch his balance after such a shove. It was unlikely that anybody could. He fell onto the floor. “Oops” Arthur said.
Din rubbed his shin. “Oww!” He said “You definitely didn’t need to push so hard!” Din stood and gazed out over the landscape. He squinted in disbelief. “Hey, Art...Do you see what I’m seeing?”

The Beginning, The End, and a Door to a New Beginning

The time was only 9:00 and I already feel the chills. It was almost funny, since it was supposed to be a warm night. Oh, the Irony! A warm night in winter when I am given up by my closest friend. The words would flow easily at least. If I could bring myself to apologize, perhaps that would have made things better? But unfortunately, that would be impossible. You, who understands my situation, you, who made the promise, you who I need. Why do I feel this way? Since it’s her that I love, there can be no room for you as more than a friend. Except you are just that. Except that I love you also. Do you understand?


Do you understand? Could you understand? The tear in my heart born of treachery from within? The rift created between what I want and what can never be? What is now and what can never pass? Do you understand, my dear? There’s no way around it. You, my second love, her, my first. I want to make them happy. And thus, creates the trouble. Sympathy pains for the first? Sympathy pains for the second? Sympathy pains for the third?


Do you understand? The hole that you’ve thrown me to? The feelings and thoughts that are born of my own traitorous heart? It cannot, will not be. No matter how you wish it. As the heart goes, I must follow, so forgive my transgressions. Once a traitor always a traitor. The pain of giving pain. The pain of receiving pain. Sympathy pains for the first.


Do you Understand? I look down the hole, oh the inevitable, never-ending hole that you throw me to. I find no stones to throw, and thus shed a tear instead. A drop. Your drop. It falls, down, down, down, further and further, until you hear the tiny sound of it finally finding the bottom. The Bottom? I peer, into this hole that you have thrown me to, and I find my release. Sympathy pains for the second


Do you understand? The bottom? Perhaps there is salvation after all. No, dear, we cannot be, but take this plunge and perhaps the rift will heal. Bear with me, the feelings are ending. The words stop flowing,. And I fall.


Do you understand?

A Writer Is...

A writer is a free soul
Writing stories is his goal

Of professional writers, there are two kinds
With different styles born from different minds

Fiction writers create their own worlds
With dragons, fairies, or talking squirrels

Non-fiction writers stick to the facts
newspapers, journals, or Bush’s latest acts

Both involve determination
reading, writing, and instigation

Poets, Authors and playwrights too
they all have things to say to you

Expressed through writing, and drawn in ink
Each word, or punctuation is to make you think

“Gee, I never saw things that way”
And wake up tomorrow thinking it’s a better day

Even experienced writers have all had
A critic say their book is bad

But it’s helpful to know, where they’ve gone wrong
So they can write their next book, and be twice as strong

So stand tall fellow writers, all will be well
Ignore the bad news that critics always tell

Just stand up, and grab a pen
Simply start to write again

The Girl With White Teeth

Kyle felt strange. A funny feeling in his gut. Or stomach. He was never good with anatomy. It felt like butterflies were hatching down there. A strange nervous feeling that could only be described as indescribable. He hadn’t eaten caterpillars, so butterflies hatching really didn’t make any sense. He was nervous, he realized, and yet, he did not know why. He had rehearsed this many times. He walked. Calmly, even though he was scared past his wits. He past a friend, her black hair tied back into a ponytail. She smiled at him, makeup accenting her white teeth. “Almost too white”. He really didn’t care though. Casually, he smiled back, braces gleaming slightly. He waved his hand lightly at her, as he continued through to the stage. Crates lined the hall. It was a mess back there. Many others were at the stage already. It was almost time. He reached the stage and took a deep breath. The feeling left him, only to be replaced by a worse feeling. “The butterflies must be flying around now,” he thought, chuckling to himself. He brushed his hair behind his ears, a habit he had picked up since he had grown his hair out. The lights turned on, and the curtains began to open. He took another deep breath, and the butterflies settled down. He quickly got into position, knowing that he was late. His partner was whispering something to him, but he couldn’t hear. He didn’t want to. The butterflies started up again, but he didn’t care. He was finally happy. The curtains opened, the music started, and he struck a pose.
Of course, it wasn’t always so perfect. Kyle used to be something of a loner. He entered elementary school at the regular age of 5, and was an average student. Years past, and he grew older, wiser, and began to stand out from his peers. He learned what true friends are, and he stuck with them. More time past, and the hunger stepped into his life. I need to learn. As if all else made no difference. Learning was his life from ages ten through to twelve. Oh, yes, he played several sports; soccer, a bit of basketball, and even a little bit of street hockey, but mostly he was involved in learning. That completely changed after he hit thirteen. As an adolescent and a pubescent teenager, humans (specifically the female variety) and computers became a larger chunk of his lifestyle. He was still a studious boy, but other things often distracting him. His grades fell, but he didn’t mind. He was still far above the average student.

He smiled. He had to when he was performing. The music soothed him and he began to move. It was natural to him, regardless of how many times he had rehearsed. His partner smiled at him as she too began the movements. He felt blind, void of all sensations except for the happiness. His movements complimented hers, like a flurry cherry blossoms, they continued. The audience clapped, but he didn’t hear it. The music was fading out, and his movements became slower. Finally, the song, his movements, the movements of his partner, and the feeling of happiness dispersed in an instant, like a fearful flock of birds escaping a child. However, Kyle was still hopeful. He stripped of his costume to replace it with a new one, and prepared to return to the stage once again.
The time had come for Kyle to graduate. He passed elementary school, obviously, and he had fallen in love on the way. At least he believed it to be love. The problem was, he knew the signs of infatuation, and they were incredibly blatant within his relationship with his “love”. She had black hair, and incredibly white teeth. Her black hair and dark skin accented the teeth perfectly. She usually wore no make-up, however, when she did, it was on special occasions, and Kyle would often pause to admire her. Which is one of the main reasons he is afraid that his “love” is infatuation. Secondly, she wasn’t single. Her boyfriend was one of Kyle’s friends, and any advances Kyle made would undoubtedly harm their friendship. So Kyle was trapped. Fearful of losing a friend, and fearful of losing his love. Even with an IQ of 183, it was an impossible decision. He had many friends now, the Kyle that was a loner was now gone. He had changed in the past year. He smiled more, and people could talk to him easily. He didn’t mind people complaining to him, nor did he mind complaining to others. He became very popular. Known as a smart person, people naturally came to him to receive his advice and opinion in problems. If only he could solve his own.
The curtains opened, and Kyle began his movements again. He knew that this time around, he main strain his body. The nervous feeling was gone, and the happiness appeared to be permanent. He was in utter bliss. A movement called for a turn, and as he did he saw the girl who had smiled at him earlier. He tried to smile at her, however, he was already smiling, turning his friendly gesture into a malicious-looking grin. He sighed with relief when she didn’t make any obvious response. He continued the movements after dropping the strange expression off of his face. The song was coming to an end, but the happiness stayed. His partner had already stopped moving. Kyle listened to the music. “Just another count of eight, just another count of eight, just another count of eight, just another count of eight”. He counted to eight, and stopped, precisely when the music stopped. He smiled as he walked off the stage, preparing for the next show.

Kyle’s family was an interesting group, to say the least. It consisted of 6 people, two parents, three boys, and a girl, Kyle, at age 14, was the youngest of the bunch. His family loved him very much, and they noticed his inactivity, and thus signed him up for a number of things; piano, soccer, basketball, tennis, swimming. Kyle had tried nearly everything, but he had not found his hobby. On the computer, he would play role-playing games, so as to escape reality. He didn’t dislike his life. In fact, judging by the size of his house, he had a very good life. He didn’t dislike his parents either, he loved them both very much, and yet, something was missing. Nobody could find it. Kyle looked everywhere to find this piece that could not be found. Until eventually, he did find it. He needed a hobby. Figures. Of course his parents are right. They’re always right. It’s just that, nothing really suited him, and he really hated trying new things.
The show had come to an end. The last show had just finished, and the happiness had died down to a faint glimmer. He was looking for the girl with white teeth to find out if she had noticed him. Unfortunately he did not find her. No doubt she had left directly after the show. He walked outside the school into the parking lot and waved to his parents. He walked towards the car smiling.
. If he just waited until after graduation, there was no way her boyfriend could see her. But if he joined that is, until he discovered dance. He had asked the girl with white teeth to work with him on a science project. Naturally, due to his growing popularity, she accepted. The pair of them were intelligent, but horrible procrastinators. At the last minute, there was no time left. The girl with white teeth had a dance rehearsal to go to, and there was no way Kyle could finish on his own. So he volunteered to join her at her rehearsal. The entire time, he was in awe. The movements corresponding to the music amazed him, not to mention time to spend with the girl with white teeth. He had found his answer; he could see her all the time. It was a malicious plan, but he was too smitten to care.
“Did you have fun?” Kyle’s father asked, turning backwards to face Kyle and the back of the car.
“Of course I did. I love to dance. And don’t turn around while you’re driving. It’s dangerous.” Kyle responded. He scowled at his father, although the smile on his lips never faded. It looked kind of strange to his father.
His father chuckled. “Were you supposed to scowl like that in the middle of the show?”
Kyle sighed, and let both scowl and smile slide from his face. “Was it obvious?” he asked.
His father started to turn around again, but thought better of it. “Not at all” he answered. “Your mother didn’t believe me when I told her.”
Kyle smiled again. It seemed nobody had seen his little slip up. He could rest easily now. And rest he did, once the family arrived home. Dancing was absolutely exhausting.

Graduation day arrived, and Kyle was excited. He had found an old suite in his attic. Earlier that week, the graduating students were given a permission sheet to get signed allowing them to leave school early (at lunch). Kyle, being a bookworm, and assuming that at least one other person would stay with him, decided that the full day of school would be worth his time. He was wrong (for once) about both assumptions. Firstly, the full day of school would not be worth it. His teacher had (also) assumed that no sane student would stay for the whole day, and planned a hair appointment for 1:00. Secondly, no other student figured that the whole day would be worth it. So Kyle sat, eating lunch alone in his classroom. Fitting, for one who had such lonely early years. It was lonely, and terribly boring, and yet he enjoyed the time to sit and ponder (mostly about the girl with white teeth). Eventually, the principal realized that Kyle was not under supervision, and sent him home.
It was summer, so there really wasn’t any reason to get up just because of that annoying buzzing sound. Kyle slept a little longer. Eventually, the buzzing got so troublesome that he had to get up and turn it off. He quickly checked the time. Realizing that he wasn’t late for anything (what could he possibly be late for?) He slowly rose from the bed. He groomed and primped for a few minutes, grabbed his rollerblades from the garage and set out for the girl with white teeth’s house. He put on his permanent smile, which rarely came off these days, and knocked on her door. She soon answered and invited him into her house.
Blushing, he said, “I don’t suppose you saw me during that dance, did you?”
She smiled at him, knowingly. “Of course. There was no way that I could have missed that.” She replied.
Kyle sighed. His smile still on, he politely asked her if she would eat lunch with him. She accepted, and said, “What was that look for anyways? I thought I wasn’t smiling while dancing, and you were trying to get me to smile. Apparently, when you try to smile while smiling, you end up with a strange look on your face.” She laughed. “Don’t look like your sorry. You must have that expression on a lot, considering you’re always smiling!”
She’s right, he realized, but he can’t let his smile drop.
At the graduation dance, Kyle danced with several people, including the girl with white teeth. He was not shy to express his love for her, and the art of dancing. He moved easily with the girl with white teeth, keeping pace with the music. They quickly became the center of attention, swiftly, and gracefully moving about the floor, in a flurry of motion. Kyle became lost in the feeling, focusing solely on his partner. He could hear the song ending, but yearned for it to continue. He felt his grip tighten on her arms. Finally, when the music stopped, he let go. The feeling of happiness once again torn from him. He walked slowly off the dance floor, with the tantalizing taste of defeat in his mouth as he watched the girl with white teeth dance with her boyfriend.

The two of them decided that oriental food would make the best lunch for now. The restaurant was about half a kilometer away, and neither minded the walk. Kyle was still smiling when the pair arrived. “Teberu tameni nii” Kyle told the hostess. She led the pair to a table, where they sat, and ordered (the pair often came to this restaurant, and thus knew exactly what to order. For any who are interested, Kyle ordered Soba with tripe, a type of Japanese noodle served cold, and the girl with white teeth had mun, vermicelli, a type of rice noodle).
The pair ate in silence for about a half hour. Soon, feeling uncomfortable, the girl with white teeth said, “You even smile while you eat! Why do you smile all the time?”
Kyle momentarily stopped smiling. He glanced around the restaurant suspiciously, and dropped the smile completely. “Isn’t it better than walking around frowning? Or looking upset?” he asked, “People come to me for support. Who do I go to if I need support? Will people lose faith in me if I do not appear perfect? If I cannot solve my own problems, how am I to solve other people’s? It is a matter of perception, old friend. If I do not carry the weight of others, then the weight will fall. And I’m afraid there is no spotter.”
They ate silently again. The girl with white teeth now utterly speechless. Or so Kyle thought. Unfortunately for him, she was far superior to him academically, socially, and physically. The only way Kyle outranked her would be in the size of their vocabularies.
She put on an expression the scared Kyle. An omniscient look that Kyle often used when explaining something to someone he felt superior to. He felt small, insignificant, compared the girl with white teeth. Her grin showed her white teeth as she spoke, “ ‘How long will you hold onto vain truths and seek after lies?’ ‘When we look at the wise, they die’ psalm forty-nine, part ten, page 604 in my bible. That’s definitely you, Kyle. Don’t worry about it. You’ll be alright, you always are.”
“How do you know I’m always alright?”
“Well, for one you’re always smil-….Oh. Yeah. Right.”
“Exactly”
She looked at him hard. The omniscient look wearing off of her face, she had to have the last word. “It will be alright”. She put her hand on his, and gripped it tightly.
“How do you know?” He pulled his hand away from hers, and finished his meal. The pair ate in silence. Kyle stood to pay for the two of them, but the girl with white teeth stopped him, and ordered two drinks for the pair (no, not alcohol, just a dessert drink).
“Sit” She said. He sat. He could sense the tension in her voice. The atmosphere around the pair changed suddenly, from peaceful, to calm, to awkward, to hostile. She looked into his eyes. Her gaze was too much for Kyle, and he averted his eyes.
“Getting angry never solved anything, you know.” Kyle said. “Let’s just pay ad be on our way!”
“No.” She said. The tension lightened enough for Kyle to regain eye contact. Her shoulders were tense, but suddenly relaxed. Kyle could see the folds in her shirt again, as her shoulders sighed back into their natural position. The two drank in silence. After both had finished their drinks, her face softened, and she grabbed his hand again. “The world is not on you’re shoulders. I’m hear for you. I can share the burden if you let me in.” She said.
She stood, and paid for both their meals. Kyle sat, bewildered by the effect of her words on him. She left the restaurant, leaving him alone. “Alone” he thought. “Why am I always alone?”. He sat and thought about that one question that burned at his mind for so many years. He sat and thought. Seconds past that felt like hours, until finally, he stood and ran after the girl with white teeth. “Dania!” He shouted her name. “I have the answer!”

Ending A) Although disappointed, he didn’t mind watching Dania. It wasn’t love. The pain of thinking it stung, but the feeling quickly passed. He smiled, and leaned back against a nearby chair (to the dismay of its current inhabitant). The night went on, and the white slowly faded to black.

Ending B) Although disappointed, he didn't mind watching Dania. His heart beat a little faster, and he knew he was in love. The song ended, and Dania walked over to Kyle.

"Get up and dance with me" She said.

And he did. The song played, and he heard each individual note. He moved, swiftly and gracefully, in her arms. And in his mind, the song never really ended.

We continue the waltz of love and life.